#i just also have feelings you're not supposed to. like. anger. i guess.

[jamethinks]

Personally speaking, as someone has not lost their parents but many of the people that are close to me have, I very much hate the way sxf fans talk about Anya and her relationship to Yor and Loid.

Now I have accepted the fact that canon is not going to do much with Anya (or any of the characters) status as an orphan as it was only really done for the sake of convenience and never meant to hold much weight in the first place. It only really bothers me when it comes to fandom spaces because I guess I just expect better.

I particularly hate the way Anya's mother is treated. She's always positioned as some God like figure that Yor is in competition with Loid's heart and the irony (I suppose) is that she doesn't exist but Yor doesn't know that so she doesn't know she's actually important to Anya or whatever.

What I want to focus on is the idea that Yor would feel as if she is in competition with Anya's birth mother. Because Yor has a very rare and unique experience that should completely change the way she views Anya's birth mother and should heavily inform the way she interacts with Anya.

And that is the fact that Yor's mother is also dead.

Yor knows what it is like to grow up without a mother. It is one trait she shares with Anya a common experience that most people do not have that puts her in the position to understand Anya is a way most people cannot and yet people treat it like it's a bad thing.

One day, she had her mother the next day she didn't, and she had to go through the grieving process and teenhood and adulthood without her own mother alone with little to no guidance. To this day, Yor struggles with some many things that most women/people don't because she had to raise herself. Not only that, but she also saw how it affected her brother, who was the same age as Anya (a bit old, but you get my point). She intimately knows what it is like to grow up without your parents

So why in God's name would she look at young girl who could have easily gone through life very similarly to her, a girl who at random she has been given the opportunity to save and allow her to have the childhood and protect her innocence in a way she was not afforded, a girl whos anger, confusion, frustration and reservations she can understand on such a deep and personal level and feel jealous?

Of all the emotions she can feel towards Anya's mother? Jealousy? Envy? Covet?

And it's all because of a man? A MAN? A MAN SHE DOESN'T EVEN LOVE AND ONLY MARRIED TO GET THE POLICE OFF HER ASS BECUSSE SHE IS A SERIAL KILLER?

A woman died at such a young age, leaving her only child without a mother, by the grace of God her father wasn't a complete buffoon, and you want me to believe Yor the Saint is going to look at her with jealousy so you can make you shitty twiyor moments. Fuck off.

Like I don't mind women being jealous of other women. Yor is a canonically very insecure woman, so I can not put it past her to feel some envy over Loid's first wife, but keep Anya out of it. Unless you're going with the evil step mom route, just leave her out. Yall can be delulu about Twiyor all you want but do not drag an innocent (non existent) woman into your nonsense. Don't waste my time like that.

"Fuck you" - the fuck you man (aka me)

[skrunksthatwunk]

ok so. kiwami 2. rooftop scene. the ending. it's a bit of a clusterfuck but i wanna talk about one detail, a problem they bring to your attention by Fucking. Talking About Her.

haruka is watching all of this unfold.

[this post is like 4.5k words long + pretty critical + has spoilers for kiwami and kiwami 2, and really minor/vague ones for a couple others. they're not that bad though, trust me (and i added a warning in the one place it is major)]

ALSO CONTENT WARNING i'm gonna talk about kiryu's passive suicidality a good amount in this one, so stay away from this if you think that might affect you negatively/you'd be better off skipping it. i'll also make a tl;dr (which i will highlight in red) at the very end if you really wanna know what my point is that will exclude those elements <3. i am also going to use a lot of choice-based language in regards to kiryu's contemplation of suicide because i think it's the lens through which the games treat the topic, but i personally don't find it a productive or realistic way to look at suicide or suicidal ideation at all. someone dying by suicide absolutely does not mean they don't care about their loved ones enough to fight on or whatever. i love you, and proceed with caution on this one.

(also i'm using the kiwamis as my point of reference because i uh. don't have a ps2? those are the games that i played, and though the differences are likely slight, i wanna be clear about that. also,, ignore the watermark on these screenshots,, i didn't notice them and i'm not retaking them. we're all gonna have to settle for youtube cutscene comps for now xoxo)

first, we have to talk about the ending of the first game.

[note: i am Really Really Confident kiryu has a conversation earlier in the game about his going to jail in nishiki's stead being him running away and choosing not to resist his two options (go to jail or let nishiki go to jail) and define his own path, fighting his way against fate to make it happen. part of why i'm so confident it exists is because it made such an impression on me at the time. it's pretty important to my interpretation of things but i also can't find it for the life of me, so uh. sorry ✌️ i really tried. this post's takes/analysis will be dependent on this scene existing, so keep that in mind. if anyone knows where to find the scene/screenshots of it, lmk and i'll add a follow-up with it]

kiwami stuff

so as she's dying, yumi tells haruka this:

that she may be dying (painfully, and right as she's getting everything she wanted), but she doesn't regret it, because at least she did something rather than running away from it all. that you shouldn't run away, ever.

shortly thereafter, when the police find kiryu and haruka, this exchange happens between him and date. here's the play by play:

date tells kiryu he can get him out of trouble with this, and that if he doesn't, he'll get life in prison; kiryu declines his help:

kiryu is so devastated (understandably) by the back to back losses of the three people closest to him that he resigns himself to life in prison, and the death-in-effect that would be. he would prefer to waste away rather than struggle through a life without them. prison was monotonous and isolating, but coming back after a decade was overwhelming, and coming back to everything being so warped and twisted, and then losing the corrupted scraps he had anyway, well. he wants to go back to sleep. he doesn't want to be in a world where everything's the same except he's on his own. better to return to safety, to die slowly in a hell he knows well than weather a new one where he has control and agency, and thus one where he has the ability to fail and to lose anything at any time. he explains to date that that loss is why he can accept his death:

date shakes him and asks him if there's really nothing left for him, no reason to keep living at all:

then echoes yumi's advice to haruka:

which makes an impression on kiryu:

date gives him a reason to live in the form of haruka, saying she'll be on her own again if he goes to jail. he hijacks kiryu's tragic protector complex to keep him alive, because she needs him, and because she's someone precious to him:

after the dust has cleared,

kiryu and date also have this exchange, where date tells him to stay away from the cops (and presumably arrest and a return to prison, the aforementioned fate akin to death), and kiryu cites haruka as his reason to stay away, one he holds to with no uncertainty (showing again that he's accepted date's logic, that his reason to keep living even when it's incredibly difficult is to care for the more vulnerable haruka). given the weight of the consequences, to me, it feels like date's telling him not to be alone with his thoughts or something. it's almost frightening:

so, what's our takeaway from kiwami?

kiryu lost everything and hit rock bottom, but he chose to fight, and to live life on his own terms, even when it got difficult. that's the narrative life lesson he had to learn to avoid repeating the events of 1995. he made that choice for haruka's sake. it's seen as growth.

and without him, haruka would've just returned to the orphanage (assuming she could make it back to sunflower at all) with no one who knew or understood what she had been through, no one to mourn with her, and no one to give her the attention, care, and protection she needs. kiryu knows what it's like to be an orphan with a limited parental figure who only checks in every so often (kazama, "aunt" yumi), and what someone will do for attention/affection from that person (via both himself and nishiki swearing up, climbing the ranks, etc. arguably haruka coming to kamurocho by herself to find "mizuki" is similar), and what it's like to lose them anyway (again, kazama, yumi). their situations parallel each others' somewhat, and that binds them further. and after losing everyone (which he blames himself for to some extent, as one can probably assume from this and 2, and something key to his arc in later games), he chooses to protect her. and this time, he won't fail. at least partially because failing would hurt him, too. he'd have nothing left again.

okay. now we get to kiwami 2.

if you forgot, the context is basically:

everybody's fighting on the roof of a building which i'm sure will not be a running theme or anything as the series goes on

there's a bomb that's about to go off and they don't know how to/can't defuse it

ryuji shot the twist villain to death, but took fatal hits to do so

sayama's like hey!! let's get out of here!!! and kiryu and ryuji are like nooo we have to settle this oughh it's punchin time and they stick her on an elevator and send her down so she doesn't have to watch

ryuji loses. sayama returns, they have a cute sibling heart to heart, and ryuji dies in her arms. sad

kiryu is in rough shape as well, and there's like 2 minutes left on the bomb's timer

here's the scene itself:

sayama tells kiryu they have to run, and kiryu says he can't. the gist is "let's run!" "you go without me" "i'm not leaving you!" "i'm in no condition to run" "i'll carry you then!!" sayama: *sees how fucked up kiryu is, realizes he's Going To Die Anyway* "ok, then i'm staying with you!" and then further bickering about that, before they give up and make out (as one does i guess)

date (he's here now) yells this at them from a helicopter:

before someone else in the helicopter tells date this:

we get this shot of haruka calling out to kiryu as the helicopter swerves away:

and kiryu and sayama have this exchange about haruka where they say they let her down, but that she'll understand:

then they hug and the bomb ticks to zero right when the credits hit. in post credits it's revealed that the twist villain defused the bomb when they weren't looking, betraying his co-villain for reasons i truthfully do not remember and am unwilling to look up. it's not about that right now.

so, how does this scene interact with the ending of the previous game?

the short answer is "badly <3" but here's the long answer:

it's about choices.

the thing about fiction is that anything you want to have happen, as a writer, can happen. it may not be effective, internally consistent, or logical, but you can write it regardless. audiences suspend their disbelief for the sake of engaging fully with your fiction, but everyone has a threshold past which they will stop being engaged in a story and either become uninvested or annoyed. writers usually have lines they're unwilling to cross as well. but in almost every story, there's at least a couple of places where they stretch reality a little to make the narrative they want happen. this is not a bad thing at all. that's how stories get told.

now, i'm gonna be real with you. i don't care about how feasible plots are like 95% of the time. it's not something i think about much, nor is it something i prioritize. i am a very character-centric media consumer, so if world building and/or plot are a bit stale or contrived, that doesn't really bother me much so long as i'm invested in the characters involved. some people can't stand plot holes or the ways musicals burst into song or whatever, and that's fine for them. but it's not something i tend to find that all that important.

this is all to say that i have a sorta affection for rgg's flavor of bullshit pulling. and it is a powerful flavor, maybe even an acquired taste, but i can and do rock with it so long as it doesn't damage the characters too much. this is why i'm not making a lengthy post howling into the void about joji kazama or the second joon-gi han or how many secret relatives there are. those things are silly and endearing and a clumsy yet heartfelt part of a series i care about very deeply. i'll joke about it, but i don't consider it much of a flaw. it's more like personality. flaws are texture, and they help a piece's identity. point is i am very, very willing and able to suspend my disbelief for these games in exchange for a good time, particularly via good characters.

(if you want another example of where i draw the line from within rgg, the answer's the YAKUZA 4 SPOILERS INCOMING rubber bullets twist, because i think 1) it's actively horrifically stupid (especially retconning a scene we SAW HAPPEN. WE SAW BLOOD ON EACH IMPACT, AND RUBBER BULLETS DON'T OFTEN BREAK SKIN THAT DEEPLY (THEIR DAMAGE IS MORE PERCUSSIVE THAN PENETRATIVE). THESE EVENTS HAPPEN IN THE SAME GAME YOU DON'T HAVE TO RETCON IT JUST REWRITE IT. OR DON'T SHOW THE HIT AT ALL SO THERE'S MORE PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY. DON'T DO THIS JUST TO HYPE UP YOUR SHITTY VILLAIN NO ONE CARES ABOUT. and 2) (a bit more importantly) i think it actively removes saejima's primary internal conflict for that game, that being his intense guilt over the 18 murders he thinks he committed, one i was invested and interested in. but this isn't a rubber bullets post.)

characters in this series walk off a lot of life threatening injuries. they survive miraculously, they escape in the nick of time, and they pull through in the end. kiryu still somehow hasn't killed anyone. almost every game in his saga ends with an "is kiryu gonna make it out this time?!?" shortly followed by a "yeah lol. lmao" postcredits reveal. kiryu fucking punches a marble statue into dust in the first game. having a story that asks you to suspend your disbelief so much and so often means that when a decision is made, it's not the writers saying, "well, this would have to happen so we are obligated/forced to write it happening" so much as "we wanted this to happen for some reason(s)," because you already know that they're not guided solely by logic. again, this is true of all writers, it's just amplified in stories like these because they've already given you so many hard mode suspension of disbelief moments (they've broken you in like leather, yeah? or like how obvious internet scams allow for self selection by being so obvious that only the most vulnerable people would fall for them. they curate an audience willing to play along with their bullshit flavor so they can tell a story that's more likely to satisfy that audience. in a good way, in a fun way! mass appeal is overrated). there is not much limit to what this series is willing to try and sell you.

so when ryuji takes lethal damage taking out the big bad, that's a choice. when he doesn't die immediately, that's a choice. when ryuji and kiryu send sayama away in the soon-to-be-forgotten elevator so they can settle this like men or whatever despite the literal actual bomb about to go off, that's a choice. when sayama comes back, that's a choice. when ryuji does die, that's a choice. when kiryu determines that he can't escape in time, that's a choice. when sayama is unwilling to leave him, that's a choice. when she says she'll carry him out and there's an elevator right fucking there and then she's like never mind i guess i won't anymore we're dying together right now kiryu like they're not gonna even try?? wouldn't distancing themselves from the blast give themselves a better shot, something that's super possible given the 2 minutes they have with that elevator??? sayama you met him like a week and a half ago why are you ready to die with him that's not a plot hole i just think that's kinda strange whatever anyway, that's a choice. when kiryu stops arguing with her so they can kiss (next to her brother's corpse), that's a choice. when date shows up, that's a choice. when the helicopter can't save them because the bomb was going to go off too soon, that's a choice. when they put haruka in that helicopter and take her away, let her only impact be reminding kiryu and sayama that they can't help her, that's a choice. when they spend their last moments talking as if they're already dead, then simply waiting, that's a choice.

they're all choices that the writers made for the characters, and we are asked to believe them for the sake of achieving the writers' vision, as with any story. the only problem is that the writers' vision here fucking blows.

i'm not saying it would be realistic for kiryu and sayama (and even ryuji) to make it out alive, but it wouldn't be out of character for the series in the slightest. kiryu is suddenly unable to power through here, and that's a choice. so, what is their vision?

put simply, i think they wanted a romantic last stand for kiryu and sayama, a tragic scene of doomed, devoted lovers. and i think they wanted an edge-of-your-seat fake out death. they wanted spectacle.

here's how some specific choices they made undermine all that shit we talked about earlier from the first game.

once again, kiryu is called by date to live, to pick himself up and keep going, no matter how impossible the odds are. he's even reminded by haruka's presence, his one anchor in keeping himself going. the growth he had in the parallel scene in the previous game is challenged, and he fails.

it's not enough this time. and that's a choice.

it's also one i can't think of a good reason for, and that's the real kicker.

characters can have developmental backslide just like people do, and if they're given good reason for it, it can be just as, if not far more compelling that purely linear growth (i am a chimera ant arc enjoyer, and that's all i'll say. sorry if you haven't seen hunter x hunter. uhh. i am also a zuko avatar enjoyer if that helps). but i can't think of anything that happened in that game that would cause this from a character perspective. if anything, kiryu should be less likely to do this intentionally. he's spent around a year raising haruka, and a year has passed since he lost his loved ones. at the very least, the pain should be more dull, though it is established through an early nightmare sequence that his ass is (justifiably) not over it yet. given that their deaths were the initial motivation for his willingness to rot forever, theoretically, he should be more motivated to stay alive than before now that he's got more investment and stability in his life outside of them, particularly when it comes to haruka, his reason for surviving. and if the ongoing nature of the trauma was the motivator for this, then they should've had it affect him more past that nightmare scene (it really serves more as a recap of the last game than anything else) so it didn't come out of nowhere. so the reminder of the lesson that saved his life and then guided it for at least a year afterwards, one that the whole resolution of the previous game relied on heavily falls flat for... some reason.

i think this is a good time to mention that, generally speaking, you don't write arbitrary choices into characters. sure, people in real life are often sporadic, but when analyzing fictional characters, every choice is filed into a portfolio of characterization that can and should be analyzed. going for pure realism can obfuscate their development, motivations, themes, etc. their choices and reactions may be unorthodox, but they must be internally consistent. this is very related to how i view plot contrivance as well. characters drive the plot, not the other way around. stories are about the ways characters affect their worlds/lives and vice versa, and they're the human face to the themes and ideas the writers are trying to explore and express. maybe my stance on this seems hypocritical. i don't know if it is. but to me, plot issues are usually a matter of engagement and investment, while character issues are a matter of substance.

i hope this doesn't feel patronizing explaining all of this, but i want you guys to know where i'm coming from in my analysis. starting at my base philosophy on writing is the easiest way to do that, i feel. defining the terms of the debate, and all that. anyway

and i mean, look. they survive because "it was defused the whole time we just didn't see it happen", so it's not like narrative tension or realism or whatever was THAT big of a priority overall. if it was gonna be a cop-out anyway, they should'nt have ruined kiryu's development too, yeah?. and sayama fucks off to america after this game anyway, so it's not like the doomed lovers thing had much payoff or meaning after this one (though you could argue that's more an issue with yakuza 3 than yk2, which has some merit to it). which means that they chose to sacrifice kiryu's prior development and internal logic for the sake of cheap tension for their finale that was both kinda illogical in and of itself (the elevator!! the elevator!!!) and a romantic climax that neither required nor really benefitted from this staging. (like. you coulda had them make out and then get saved by date, or kiss on the elevator in a "it's moving, but will we make it in time??" way or whatever. look i'm not saying those are great options either but they're SOMETHING okay. it would remove/reduce the amount of time wasted on characters sitting around with their thumbs up their asses for no reason in this finale).

instead the message of this finale is that, actually, sometimes it is impossible to change your circumstances and fight for your own way out of an awful situation. and what should you do about this unfortunate truth? uh. die! i guess. it's the exact opposite of the encouraging, optimistic message of the last game. zetsubou chou pride my ass.

note: i feel i should mention that when suicidality is brought up within the series (particularly in substories), it is always something someone has to overcome themselves through wanting it badly enough. they simply need the inspiration and the motivation to keep going. it's arguably treated as a moral obligation. frankly, the series is broadly very meritocratic (<- bad) when it comes to this topic (and others, but that's a Whole Other Thing. see akiyama's weird loan shark tests as well). sheer will and resolve is enough to conquer any problem, be it physical or mental/emotional, and it's irresponsible to act/feel otherwise. this is the logic the games operating under, and kiryu is often the mouthpiece for this bootstrap-pulling "tough love" sentiment. so when kiryu "chooses" to die, yet faces no emotional fallout from date, haruka, or anyone else, it feels very out of place. it's not just an odd choice; it's specifically, once again, an odd choice to make in context of the game/series/character it appears in.

kiryu's just like eh, haruka'll watch her only family die right as she gets some sense of tentative stability and lets her guard down after a devastating month the year prior (and a relatively dismal upbringing before that) that we trauma bonded over. sure, she likely came to view me as the one who would stay no matter what, who was too strong to be taken out, who she could always rely on, and so i know that dying would hurt her immensely, but she's smart enough to know it'd happen eventually. her eventual recovery means it's okay for me to do this (somehow, in a way it wasn't in the first game). it's an excuse within the narrative's logic, and one it is uncritical of simply because it's kiryu. he gets a pass.

and i think with the previously mentioned passive suicidality and general series-long mental health issues kiryu displays (i mean. yakuza 5's literally his depression arc), this could be retroactively seen as an interesting choice, like a piece in that particular narrative. i don't even dislike that viewing, especially in terms of fan approach. but (assuming this went down the same in yakuza 2), they likely didn't have that in mind. all they had then was the first game and the movie. and they took the first game's Entire Message and contradicted it for nothing but a scene they wanted to have happen because it'd be suspenseful and/or emotional (without actually doing the work to earn it). and they're not fans trying to analyze his character, they're the ones making choices for him. and they chose to massacre my boy. and if the subject of kiryu's mental health was a priority of theirs, why didn't they explore that? haruka and date's feelings on him not resisting and their words not being enough (whether that blame is justified by the narrative or not (it shouldn't be btw)), the uncomfortable drifting that resigning yourself to death and living afterwards anyway often brings, literally any conversation about it besides the minimal shit we get post credits of date being like "did you know about the bomb not having a fuse?" which like. bad answer either way (which is why they weren't straightforward about it, the cowards). you can't just be like "oh uh. idk he just gave up this time. yeah he was gonna die on purpose for some reason. good thing the bomb was fake lol" and then pack up and go home!! that's stupid!! any merit the idea of kiryu dying by suicide in this scene and in this way could have had from a character-based perspective loses its weight because 1. it didn't happen (for kinda stupid reasons), which makes it fall flat and 2. no one is really affected by the fact that it almost did, including him. they sacrificed his ass and replaced it with nothing, even when there could have been interesting outcomes to it.

so the narrative effectively chose to kill him by making the situation impossible, and this impossibility is ultimately arbitrary, given the series' usual approach to miraculous, illogical escapes. that, or the choice to stay was up to kiryu and sayama, one that 1. doesn't make sense and is actively regressive in context of kiryu's arc in the only other game in the series (as well as his whole saga in retrospect) and 2. one that contradicts how the series sees/treats resignation to death/death by suicide in all other contexts without being addressed, challenged, or condemned in ways it would in all other contexts. because they don't want you to think about it like that. they want you to think he (and the narrative) had no choice, that it made sense to do that. but it didn't. it doesn't.

and look, honestly? if i was bleeding out and had like 2 minutes to live, there's a non zero chance i'd say fuck it and kiss a girl too. i get it. but i am (and this is crucial) not a fucking yakuza character. and i'm certainly not kiryu kazuma.

tl;dr (basically just rephrasing the second to last main paragraph)

there are not sufficient character reasons for kiryu and sayama not trying to escape. additionally, because the narrative regularly facilitates even less likely escapes, it's not so constrained to logic and reality that it couldn't pull this one off. the choice to let their situation be impossible this one time was a cheap and arbitrary way of forcing a scene they thought would be cool and dramatic, and in doing so they chose to cannibalize a key emotional note of the previous finale (namely kiryu's mission to dedicate his life to protecting haruka) for hollow last minute stakes-upping in this one. it is then completely disregarded anyway. god damn.

[constantmourning]

Silly

[Buggy x AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Not being allowed in Buggy's meetings was hard, especially when you craved his attention. So, you came up with a foolproof plan on how to get his attention back on you.

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Fingering, finger sucking, thigh riding, Buggy calling you baby, not beta read

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Buggy got me in a chokehold... He's plaguing my mind... I've only watched OPLA, and haven't finished it just yet, so I do apologize if this is OOC.... I just want him, carnally. My friend sent me two prompts so this was formed from that!

“Please,” You ran towards one of Buggy’s crew members. “I need you to give this to Buggy.” You held an envelope.

“Um, he’s in a meeting…” She gave you a concerned look. “He said to not bother him-”

You pouted at her, “It’s so important! It’s for his eyes only! There is no way Buggy is going to let me in the meeting, considering what happened last time…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “But, really, this is important. He needs to see it.” The crew member narrowed her eyes, about to protest, “I won’t let him do anything to you! I promise! He’ll know what it means!”

She agreed. You thanked her. You hightailed it back to Buggy’s quarters, a smile pulling at your lips the entire time. You waited, and waited. And waited. Then you finally heard it.

Buggy’s wrath.

His scream rang through the ship and you grew giddy. You threw your clothes off and jumped into his bed, covering yourself up with just a sheet. You bit your lip in anticipation and waited for the door to open.

Buggy’s foot slammed into the door and it came swinging open. You smiled at him as you lay waiting. His for the taking. Buggy slammed his door.

“You sent me pictures of you naked while I was in a work meeting!”

His voice was full of anger. His fists were balled and you noticed crumpled papers in one of them. You stared at him with an innocent expression. You sat up and let the cover fall slightly, exposing your cleavage.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” You cocked a brow at him. “The pictures.”

Buggy growled and your stomach flipped. He held up the photos and let out a guttural noise, and you were sure you could not get anymore wet. He took a step closer and you saw the two photos in his hands. One was your wanted poster, but instead of your face it was your naked body, head out of the shot. And the other was you lying on Buggy’s bed, also completely naked.

Buggy tensed, the papers crumpling in his hands. He looked at you with a darkness in his eyes you had not seen before, and it was extremely hot. “Alvida saw one.” His teeth were gritted.

“Oh!” That wasn’t supposed to happen… “What’d she think? Does she still think I’m ‘just a cutie’? Or is her opinion different now?”

“Why does her opinion matter?!” Buggy was on you in a matter of seconds, caging you in. 

You swallowed hard. "I mean, it doesn't I guess-" Buggy was inches from you, "I'm just being-"

"Silly?" Buggy asked, head cocking to the side. "You know, I really think you have forgotten what silly means…"

"No, not really," You speak without thinking, "how can I forget when you're so silly!" You smiled widely at him. Buggy did not move, he watched you unblinking.

Finally he threw himself off of you and stood up, grumbling, "You're just as bad as the lion…"

You pouted. Buggy was not looking at you though, he was looking at the crumpled pictures of your naked form. You leaned forward, pulling your knees up and pressing your chest to them. "I can make it up to you… after all, I am all yours." When Buggy turned to you, you continued, "I was being silly sending those, but fuck, Buggy! I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought. You're with Alvida or scheming to get that map-" Buggy dropped the photos to his side and looked at you. "I just want attention sometimes." You placed your chin on the top of your knees and played with the cover.

The papers dropped from Buggy's grasp and he crawled back onto his bed. His gloved hand moved to your chin and he forced you to look up at him. "All you have to do is ask," his eyes stared into yours, his voice low and full of lust. "But I'm afraid I can't stand for the stunt you pulled today…"

"That's what you said last-" You stopped yourself. You did not want to ruin whatever it was Buggy was about to do.

"Hm?" Buggy was not going to let you be quiet. "When did I say that?" He questioned you. "When you decided to act out during the last meeting I let you in? When you were grinding against my thigh and you thought no one would notice?"

Your face was on fire. You nodded.

"And then-" Buggy was inches from you, "-you moaned so loud I had to kick you out?"

"I get it…" You looked away from him. You were just horny and needed an outlet and when Buggy wasn't giving you attention, what were you supposed to do? “My fingers just aren’t cutting it…”

“I can fix that,” Buggy smirked, eyes crinkled. “But, first-” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to his thigh. You cocked your head. “You’re going to get yourself off. On my thigh.”

You blinked. “No spanking?”

“‘Cause that worked so well last time, didn’t it.” Buggy rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t be shy now.”

Your face, going down to your neck, was on fire. You scooted towards the other side of the bed and stood up, making your way towards Buggy. He smiled at you; a knowing, shit eating grin. Your heart jumped into your throat. You settled on Buggy’s clothed thigh and inhaled sharply. Your fingers moved towards your clit and Buggy was quick to grab your hand.

“No.” His voice was stern. “Use my thigh. Just my thigh.”

Your hands moved to his shoulders and you gave him a shocked expression. You swallowed hard and began to grind down. Your arms wrapped around Buggy’s neck and you looked down, noticing his pants becoming wet from your pussy. Buggy grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. He was smug to say the least.

Buggy moved one of his hands to your hip and helped you. His leg bounced slightly and you let out a whine. Your grinding continued, you only grew wetter and hornier as you did so. You wanted nothing but to be fucked and Buggy had you using his damned thigh.

“Tell me,” Buggy drawled out, “what do you want?”

“I need you.” You whined, still rocking and grinding. A heat pooling in your stomach. You pushed forward slightly and your clit rubbed against his pants. Your brain malfunctioned briefly. “I need you to touch me-”

“Just cum for me, baby,” Buggy whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want if you can cum for me.”

You let out a whimper and moved your hips faster. Your hips rolled and bucked into his thigh, each time you felt pressure on your clit you whined. Finally you could feel it, your orgasm was getting close.

“Buggy-” You moaned his name, eyes shutting tight, “I’m gonna-”

Buggy’s hands moved to your hips and he stopped you from moving. You froze. You let out a low whine and looked up at him. He cocked his head. “What?”

“Buggy!” You wanted to scream, “I was about to- I was-” You stuttered and stumbled on your words.

“I know, that’s what happens when you pull silly stunts.” Buggy smiled. “But, now… Do you want my fingers?”

You were going to go mad. You could not answer fast enough. “Please! Please, just touch me Buggy. I want to feel you.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Buggy brought his hand up to his mouth and bit his glove, pulling it off in one swift motion. He pulled his other glove off and placed his hands back on your hips. He flipped you easily onto the bed and was looming over you. He watched you for a moment while his hand slowly slid down your side. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Once he reached your pussy, you were sure you were going to combust.

One of his fingers slid into you and and your hips bucked upwards. His fingers reached spots yours could not. He knew what he was doing. Not like you didn’t. But Buggy’s fingers were a lot better than your own, by a long shot.

You wrapped your arms around him once more and pulled him closer to you, close enough for you to kiss his neck. He slid in another finger as you kissed his neck and he was easily making quick work of you. You were puddy in his hands, and he couldn’t enjoy it more. His fingers pumped in and out of you, before he found your clit and rubbed over it. Electricity jolted through you.

“Buggy- Mph!” You mewled for him, “I’m so close. Please-’ Please let me-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Buggy decided to be generous at that moment. All he said was “Okay,” and you were coming undone by his fingers alone. Buggy You bucked and cried and pulled Buggy as close to you as possible. Buggy laughed in your ear, and you arched back. Another cry escaping you Buggy started to slow down. He pulled his fingers from you and immediately, without seemingly thinking, popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking.

You watched him with wide eyes. His fingers popped out of his mouth and he smiled down at you. He lowered himself to your face. “You taste delightful dear… It’s a good thing we have all night.”

“You don’t have any other obligations?”

Buggy chuckled, “Not tonight. I’m all yours.” Buggy pushed himself up and over you. “And you are all mine.”

“All yours,” You agreed, nuzzling into him.

“Now, where did you get those pictures taken, hm?” Buggy questioned.

“That’s a secret.” You laughed. “A silly little secret.”

Buggy did not like that answer. He was going to get it out of you one way or another…

[folkloresthings]

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track three: you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man)

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

… OCTOBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. october second.

liked by irisapatow, rachelzegler and 810,673 more

yourusername time for another track! 🤡 i first started writing you're just a boy (and i'm kinda the man) after listening non-stop to taylor swift and shania twain and i decided what i really needed was to take those feelings and make a female power song of my own. so i wrote one! it helped me to remember that losing the love of a man does not make you any less of a person, and i hope it can do the same for others. oh, and it's also a bop.

view all 499,020 comments

user QUEEN

taylorswift you're kinda making me feel like... i'm the man 💪👸

user i fear this will tear lando's ego to shreds

⤷ user it doesn't feel fair on him, like he doesn't get to tell his side of the story

⤷ user girl there's definitely a reason he's kept quiet 😭

lissiemackintosh soooo excited for this one!!!! my new karaoke song?

⤷ yourusername come at do it at the concerts

⤷ lissiemackintosh i like your fans too much to do that to them

user CLOWN LANDO ERA

REWIND... OCTOBER 2022

"guess what, guess what!"

lando was mid-game when you rushed into the living room, glancing up from the television when you bound into view. he slips back one side of his headphones, eyes following suit a few moments later once the screen is paused.

“what?”

“guess!”

lando sighs, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “lewis finally retired?”

“no, silly.” scoffing, you slap at his arm and plonk down next to him on the couch. “management just called — i’ve been asked if i want to do a world stadium tour. the bowl, wembley, madison square garden!”

lando’s mouth fell open in slight shock, your excitement obviously contagious as his eyes light up. in a split second he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“holy shit, babe,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist.

“i know,” you squeal quietly, muffled against his shoulder. “they just need to set up the next album release and then announce the dates.”

behind your embrace, the cogs of lando’s head start to turn and calculate the information. sitting back, he looks at you with confusion set in his brow.

“when would that be?” he asks, head tilted.

you shrug, not noticing his growing resentment of the news. “depends. they want the album done for late summer, so that means an autumn release. so probably in the new year.”

“the second half of the season?”

lando’s cold tone makes you smile, almost uncomfortably, waiting for his former excitement to return. uneasily, you nod.

“well, yeah, but—”

“i thought you said you were going to come to all the races, since you’ve only been to monaco and silverstone this season?” he cuts you off. you catch the frustration in his eyes like a hawk, shifting off of his lap before it bubbles over. “you’re not going to be able to do that if you’re on tour.”

“that’s not true,” you try and reason, hopeful that your calm tone might balance his. “there’s texas and vegas. besides, i don’t even know what dates i’ll have shows yet, i could fly in for race days.”

lando shakes his head, pushing himself from the couch cushions and onto his feet. “that’s not the point. you promised you’d be there for me this season. i actually have a chance for once, and you don’t even care.”

the dismissive tone that spits off his tongue makes you flinch, a heavy frown falling around your cheeks. “what am i supposed to do? turn down my biggest tour yet to come watch you race every single week?”

��yes!” lando exclaims, turning sharply. “that’s what good girlfriends do — look at kika and lily!”

anger pricks at your eyes and throat, swallowing hard to keep it at bay. “you haven’t been to one of my shows in months. you don’t even have time to listen to demos when i ask you to. there are two of us in this relationship, lando. it isn’t always about you.”

you see his defence ready behind his lips but you’re quicker, ready before he can speak.

“i went to every single race last season,” you tell him. your tone is calm, steady — making the words even more intense. “every one. i have been your biggest fan since day one. so don’t ever, ever, say i’m being selfish.”

lost for words, lando stares at you. only because he knows it’s true does he halt his argument there, turning and storming into the bedroom to preserve some dignity. you stare at the slamming door and wonder how he can watch on so easily as you slip through his fingers, and not want to do anything at all?

INSTAGRAM. november twenty—fourth.

liked by danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 928,244 others

yourusername always your #1 fan (even when you dnf) 🫶

view all 630,737 comments

carlossainz55 did he get a lollipop for being a good patient?

⤷ yourusername and a sticker 😄😄

user poor lando

landonorris my favourite nurse ❤️

user they’re sooooo cute

user that crash looked bad

yourusername dw guys i’m giving him lots of kisses and rubs better !!!!!

⤷ landonorris not as many as i’d like 😏

⤷ yourusername you’ve got a hello kitty plaster on your head you cannot be seductive right now

"oh, shit."

the fight that dreaded evening had hung over both you and lando for weeks, both of you much too stubborn to admit to any wrongdoing or, god forbid, apologise. but you carried on. if anything it was worse than not speaking. it was like nothing had happened, as if the conversation never even happened, as long as neither one of you mentioned it. still, there was a tension holding you at arms length from each other.

so to not bring up the same argument again, you followed lando to the next few races. come vegas, you had given yourself so much time to think about things and the way lando had handled it all that your mind was screaming at you to leave. to book a flight home, pack up your stuff and go. because how much more of this could you take? you weren't the trophy girlfriend, the wag whose only job was to look pretty beside her accomplished boyfriend.

you would do it after vegas, you decided. there was a few days off; time for you to talk to lando and explain your feelings, before walking out with your head held high just in time for the next race. then, the worst happened.

chatting idly to lily, the race only just beginning, you almost missed it. for a moment, you thought it was oscar spinning out. the bright orange sparks masked which number was painted onto the car, spinning drastically until the nose of the vehicle slammed into the barriers. lily grasped your arm, her sympathetic eyes making you look twice. number four, lando.

in a daze, you followed the one of the marshalls through the busy paddock until you reached the ambulance area. he had already been loaded in, paramedics and mclaren employees surrounding him. there wasn't enough room, they needed to go now.

"hop in, i'll drive you," charlotte's gentle voice appeared beside you, guiding you into the car as the ambulance hurried off. "they said he's probably fine, they just want to do the usual checks."

you nod, trusting her. you could always trust charlotte, right?

after what felt like hours, you arrived to the hospital and didn't think twice about elbowing every single person out of your way until you reached lando's room. he was laid still on the bed, eyes watching the small television in the corner. his leg was strapped up, an iv stuck into his arm, various bruises littering his skin and face. he looked up when he heard you, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"it looks worse than it is," he assured you, noticing the panic in your eyes straight away. you breathe out some of the relief, the rest coming in a sudden pool of tears. "hey - hey, c'mere."

lando outstretches the arm that doesn't hurt like a bitch, ushering you to his side. you don't hesitate, lip wobbling as you hurry over and perch yourself on the side of the bed. tucked into his shoulder, you nuzzle as closely as you can without hurting him.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you mumble, and you both know just what you're apologising for. what was a stupid fight worth when chalked up to all of this?

"me too," lando replies quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

sitting back, you look over his face. a small scratch from the helmet, just above his cheekbone. his eyes are drooping, tired from the impact and the drugs. you sniffle and smile sadly, thumb brushing over the wound.

"i'm going to move the tour," you tell him, and note that he doesn't protest. "if i'm on the other side of the world and something happens, i—”

lando shakes his head, cutting you off with a kiss. "nothing's going to happen. i'm still in one piece, aren't i?"

you hesitate, then nod, letting him shift over so you can lay next to him. resting your head on his chest, both of you quietly watching the rest of the race, you feel your head spin. maybe he had been losing you, but could you survive losing him?

writers note: we're back baby. lando count yr days my man

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @bingussthirdtoe @destinyg237 @theonottsbxtch @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

[wholoveseggs]

Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?

Stubborn

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...

"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.

"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.

"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.

"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.

Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.

You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.

You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.

You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.

He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.

"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.

"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.

"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.

Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.

You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.

"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.

"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.

"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.

Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.

"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.

"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.

"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.

Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"

You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.

"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."

"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.

"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.

You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.

"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."

"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.

"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"

"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.

You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.

"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"

"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.

"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.

She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.

"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.

"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.

"I think that's a good idea." She replied.

"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.

"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.

"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.

"Want me to come with you?" She asked.

"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.

She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.

"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.

Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.

He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.

You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.

But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.

You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.

You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.

"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.

He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.

"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.

"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.

He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.

You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.

"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.

"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"

You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.

He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.

"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.

"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.

"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.

"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.

"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.

"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.

He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.

"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.

"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.

"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.

"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.

"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.

He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.

You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.

"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.

"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.

He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.

"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."

"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.

"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark. 

"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."

"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."

His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.

"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.

The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.

He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.

Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.

It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.

"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.

"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.

"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"

He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.

"I'm not-"

"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.

"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.

He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.

He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.

Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.

"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.

Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.

You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.

"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.

"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."

He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.

He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.

"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.

He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.

"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.

You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.

He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.

"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.

"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.

His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.

"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.

The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.

"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.

"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.

"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.

"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.

"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."

You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."

Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.

You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.

You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."

"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.

It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.

He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.

He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.

You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.

Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.

"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.

He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.

"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.

"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.

"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.

"I'm getting there," you sighed.

He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.

His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.

You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.

"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"

You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.

You were definitely going to fight with him more often…

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[appocalipse]

hello ♥ i'd like to request faded photograph + antique lock and key set with steve. maybe after what happened in s4 with steve and nancy and all that r decides to leave hawkins because she's sure he still loves nancy and she wants to move on? and if you want it could have a happy ending with one of those super cute love confessions ♥♥♥

ahhhh this is so steve! ♥ (also this is my version where eddie and max are alive and fine and hawkins is safe again)

visit amy's flea market ♥

"I need to tell you something."

Steve is not sure he likes the tone of your voice. It's somber, serious. His gut clenches, and for a brief moment, he scares himself with the thought that something might be wrong with you, something he might not be able to help with. 

And it's raining outside, for God's sake. It's never good news on a rainy day like this, is it?

"Everything... everything is fine?"

"Yeah. Yes, everything is...fine." 

You smile, but Steve notices it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

You look at him as if the words are stuck in your throat, as if they're heavy and you desperately want to get rid of them. 

Finally, you clear your throat. 

"I'm leaving."

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. "What?"

"I'm leaving. Hawkins, I mean. Tomorrow."

You shrug, as if you're not sure what else to do with your arms, and then you turn around and Steve can't even attempt to read your expressions anymore. 

He knows you've been thinking about college and your future, but he thought... well, he thought you'd stay. You'd told him months ago that you were actually planning to stay. And now...

Steve clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. And because he's sure this can't be happening, he double-checks, "For...for good?"

"Yeah. For good."

The silence between you feels like a living thing, thick and suffocating. Steve can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. He's not sure if he's in shock or if he's just too stunned to form words.

"Why?" The question finally escapes him. "Why are you leaving?"

You turn back to him, and for a moment, Steve thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes. Is it... sadness? Regret?

"I...I'm not sure, I guess," you say. "Just...why not?"

The words sound pathetic even to your own ears, but you can't help it. It's not like you don't love this place, this town, your friends... Steve. You do. You love it all.

Too much.

And it's different now. Hawkins is safe. The kids are safe. You're out of excuses to stay and get your heart broken a little further. It feels like it's time to move on, to leave behind the shadow of the Upside Down, to stop waiting for something to happen.

But Steve looks at you like you're making the biggest mistake of your life, and then he says the last words you'd expect him to say right now. "You want to leave and you don't even know why?"

It's not anger in his voice, but it's close. It's desperation and fear and a kind of raw pain that you'd expect to see in the eyes of someone who's just been told they have a terminal illness or something.

"I just..." you stammer, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. "I have to."

Steve shakes his head, looking as if he's trying to will you to stay. "You don't have to."

"Yes I do! In a way that you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me!"

You're angry now, and a little hurt. All of your other friends supported your decision; Eddie, the kids. Nancy. And out of all of them, Steve is your best friend. Shouldn't he understand most of all?

"It's not that easy! You don't understand what it's like here! I can't...I can't just stay!"

Steve takes a step back, clearly hurt. "What do you mean I don't understand?"

"I mean..." You trail off, feeling helpless. 

What are you supposed to do? Tell him how you are such a coward you cannot stand to see him and Nancy find their way back to each other? 

"...doesn't matter," you murmur. "Doesn't matter. You'll be fine, okay? You have... everyone."

The words taste bitter in your mouth, and you can tell they're not sitting well with Steve. He looks at you like you've just slapped him, and you feel a pang of guilt. But what else can you do? You can't tell him the truth. You can't tell him that you're leaving because you're terrified of never getting over your stupid feelings for him, of watching him and Nancy falling in love with each other all over again.

You can't tell him that every time you think about it, you feel like you're drowning.

"Look," you say, forcing a smile, "it's not like I'm never coming back or anything. I'll...I'll visit. And...and I'll...call."

Steve doesn't return your smile. He just looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if he's trying to find something. Something that you've been keeping hidden. And then he shakes his head, and a small, sad smile finally tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You know what?" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe...maybe I should come with you."

You look at him, stunned. You hadn't even considered the possibility. Steve...leaving Hawkins? With you? It's a strange, surreal thought, and...no. Absolutely not. 

That would totally ruin your plan. 

"What?"

"Yeah," Steve says, surprising you again. "I mean...why not? It's not like I've got anything keeping me here. And maybe...maybe it'd be good for me to get away. You know? See something new, do something different."

He looks at you, hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you almost consider it. Almost. Because it's so much easier saying yes to Steve than saying no. You could be together, away from all the memories and the reminders of everything you've been through...but you'd still be just friends. 

He'd be with you everyday, and that's the last thing you need. 

You can't stand the thought of watching him find someone else, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Of course, you want him to have all of those things; you just don't want to watch.

Steve seems to sense your hesitation, his hope fading. 

"You don't want me in your life," it's not a question. 

You panic.

"No! I mean...I do, I..." You can feel the words tumbling out of you before you even realize what you're saying. "You just..."

"Is that why you want me to stay here? Just so you don't have to deal with me anymore?"

"No!" You shake your head violently. "Of course not! That's not it at all!"

But the words feel hollow, even to you. Because in some twisted, secret part of your mind, that's exactly how you feel. You want him to stay here, where it's safe, where he can't get close to you, where he can't hurt you. You know it's selfish, but you can't help it.

Steve's expression softens, and he takes a step closer. "Be honest with me."

You make an effort not to move.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, your voice barely audible. "I don't want you to come with me, but it's not because...I just...I don't think it's a good idea. It'd be better for you to stay here, where you belong. You deserve...you deserve to be happy. Your life is here, your job...she is here."

"She?"

"Nance."

Steve's face twists into a bitter grimace. "What does Nancy have to do with anything?"

"I just mean...well, c'mon, she was your first love, and you still love her, it's clear, a-and now she's single again-"

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second here," Steve says, his voice suddenly raised. "Nancy? You think I'm still in love with Nancy? You're kidding, right?"

You blink, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. But Steve has always been…protective of his feelings, refusing to really understand them. You had seen how he and Nance looked at each other when no one was around, how he would light up whenever she was near...even when you were in the Upside Down, fighting for your lives, Steve's eyes would sometimes drift towards Nancy, his expression softening. 

It's obvious to you.

"Forget it," you say. "It's none of my business, I just...I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Steve says, his voice low. "I'm happy with you here."

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. You want to say something, to apologize or explain or reassure...but you can't find the words, and with the way Steve is looking at you now, you're not even sure what it is you want to say anymore.

"Steve," you murmur in a small, quiet voice, your heart feeling like it's tearing in two.

He takes another step closer, and you feel your heart start to race. He cups your face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm, and leans in until his breath is warm against your lips. "Don't go anywhere," he asks.

Right this moment, you're not entirely sure you'd be able to if you tried.

Your feelings are confused enough. Being this close doesn't help. 

"Steve," his name rolling off your tongue is somewhere between a plea and a warning as you look up into his eyes, chest heaving. You tell yourself you want to pull away, that you simply can't find the strength.

"You really think that?" he whispers. "You really think I'm still in love with her?"

His hands are still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his lips part, and he slowly leans in, closer, until his nose is almost touching yours. 

You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, trying to will yourself not to give in to this, to not feel this way, to not want this. "Please don't," you manage to choke out. "Don't do this."

His lips brush against yours, soft and hesitant. "Don't do what?" he whispers against your mouth. "Don't love you?"

"Steve." Desperation. Feels like the world is spinning out of control.

He pulls back, eyes searching yours. "What do you want me to do?"

Your throat feels tight. "Don't do this," you manage to whisper. "Don't choose me because you think I'm a consolation prize."

He frowns, confusion flitting across his features. "What are you talking about?"

You swallow hard, feeling the tears burning at the back of your eyes. "I don't want you to do this just because you don't want me to leave, or because you're lonely, or-"

Steve cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head. "I know that's not true, and you know that's not true," he says, his voice soft. "But if it's what you need to hear..." 

He kisses you properly this time.

It's the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl, your heart skip a beat, and your stomach flip-flop. It's the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, and a little dizzy, and more than a little bit in love.  It's the kind of kiss that tells you, without a single word being spoken, that you are wanted, and cherished, and loved.

"Do you feel like a consolation prize when I do this?" he whispers against your lips. And he kisses you again, slowly, his weight pressing you against the wall. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the hardness of his muscles beneath your fingertips. "Or when I do this?"

He trails his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of tiny kisses behind. You sigh, arching into him, and he chuckles softly. 

"Steve..."

"Or this?"

He pulls back slightly, cupping your face with his hands, looking into your eyes as he trails his thumbs across your cheekbones. The softness of his touch catches you off guard. His gaze is intense, searching, and you feel like maybe he can see something there that no one else ever could. 

"Do you really feel like a consolation prize?" Steve gently brushes his nose against yours. He smiles. "Because if you do..." He leans in, lips parting just enough for his breath to tease across your skin. "...I'll prove you wrong."

"Actually," you smile, feeling the warmth spread from your chest up to your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his neck. "I think I might need some more... convincing."

Steve grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, then." He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. "I guess that's what I'll have to do."

[lovelykil]

baby assignment

ᯓ izuku midoriya

synopsis; class 1-a has been assigned to take care of fake babies for an assignment! This assignment will be helpful for hero work and other skills as well. some are wary of this assignment, especially the pairing. You got paired up with Izuku.

note; this one feels so rushed 😓

part 1

the two males look around the carrier, they search around the seat desperately. Even going as far as holding the thing upside and down and shaking it, in hopes something would fall out of it. Their disappointment grew deeper when nothing fell out.

bakugo threw the thing across the room in a fit of rage and frustration, grunting harshly when he did it.

"THIS THING DIDN'T COME WITH INSTRUCTIONS??" He roared. Kirishima held the baby near his shoulder and patted it softly to comfort it after his partner's anger out burst.

"bakugo you GOTTA stop shouting! You're going to make the baby cry more then we'll fail.." bakugo looked over at his friend still a little pissed in the face but calmed down momentarily. He went to pick up the carrier and walked over to kiri.

"this assignment is bullcrap.." kirishima glanced over at katsuki's irritated face but now calm demeanor, his lips curled into a small smile.

"I agree but maybe we'll learn a valuable lesson from this weird assignment." He holds the baby away from his chest to stare upon it. Bakugo quickly glanced over at it, standing beside his partner with one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other holding onto the baby carrier by the handle.

"we should name this little dude!" Kiri exclaims, his smile bright and wide when he looks over at the blonde. Bakugo scoffs at the idea but then snickers a few seconds later with a stupid grin.

"how about shithead?"

kirishima gives him an unfazed expression that leaves Bakugo puzzled, he crosses his arms to his chest. "It fits him, fucking shithead."

"oh, it's a he?" The redhead nudges his partner in the shoulder, obviously teasing him. Bakugo doesn't reply just goes to set down the carrier on his bed, kirishima watches him and so does their fake baby.

"why not? This thing could be a mini me." He takes a seat on the bed, his body is relaxed as he supports himself with his hands planted on the sheets behind him. Kiri looks at him for a brief moment before chuckling like if Bakugo had just said a funny joke.

"as if we need another one of you... we're naming him Airhead!"

bakugo sat up quickly and began barking, "WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? ALSO AIR HEAD? WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT?!"

"better than bakugo 2.0 or shithead.."

. . .

"so how do we even take care of this thing?" after ignoring the baby's cries with the cover over it, the baby eventually quieted down and looked back at you. Its robotic green eyes scan your facial expression as you lean over to examine it.

you were initially asking izuku but after a few seconds passed, you were now speaking to a wall. You lean away from the baby to look over at Izuku who was at his desk writing something down, there he mumbled incoherent words you didn't quite catch.

you felt a little awkward now,

"uhm izuku?" You called out only to get nothing in return. You grow a bit impatient possibly slightly annoyed as well.

"Midoriya!"

"AH—!? uuhm! Yes??" The stunned boy dropped his pencil on the sheet of paper to turn towards you. He seemed genuinely surprised at your yell like he was stuck in some trance just seconds ago.

"did you forget we have a CHILD in our care right now?" You set your hand on your hip while you point toward the baby. You slightly grin as he squirms, apologizing for his forgetfulness.

"sorry! I just got distracted with homework but I guess I can save it for later." Midoriya sits up from his seat and walks over to the kid.

you watch him silently as he goes to sit on his bed and turn the carrier his way. The baby watches him now, recognizing his facial structures. It suddenly reaches for him, his eyes widen.

"woah this baby.." Midoriya reaches inside to lend it his hand, the baby quickly sucks on his finger making some familiar baby noises.

you shuffle over to his side to check out what has his eyes big and wide.

"oh wow this thing is like a real baby, huh?" You and Midoriya watch in amazement at the this advanced technology, the fake baby was scarily like the real one.

this assignment was sure going to be very interesting.

izuku nods slowly as the baby kept sucking on his one finger, the scene was entirely too cute with its tiny hands around his finger. You look over at the teen a few seconds later, feeling your heart thump.

he had a warm smile spread across his freckled face and his kind green eyes peering gently down at the infant. He was admiring the baby and at the same time, you were admiring him. Your face grew warm, your body tensing up,

he was always so cute but here in this moment, he looked so.. surreal so peaceful and so at ease.

"I think it's gonna chew my finger off.." izuku nervously chuckled. He looked over his shoulder to you still with a nervy expression, he opened his eyes momentarily, and to his surprise you were already looking at him

and so close.

his shoulder jolted up as he blushed a bit too harshly from being so close to a girl, he suddenly blurts out from shyness,

"Y/n-!? You're so close..?!"

when caught you quickly jumped back, your face was crimson red as you began to quickly change the subject.

"was I? My bad.. uhm anyway, she's cute— or er I mean.." You end up fumbling over your words, finally giving the baby a gender. You rub your hot cheek and curse to yourself at the slip-up and well, that whole interaction just now with him.

Izuku looks back at the baby after he calms down, his blush settling down as well as his brain, but he couldn't help but keep in mind of your little accident.

a girl huh? He thinks. Izuku pulls his finger away to wipe the slobber on his changed set of clothes, he then smiles once again.

"we should name her..." You gaze over at him as he ponders a name. You look a bit surprised that he didn't question your idiot mouth, maybe he was thinking the same thing.

that the baby was definitely a girl, or at least your baby was.

you mumble a suggestion out, scratching your cheek.

"izumi?"

"izumi..?" He repeats, his hand leaves his chin to look at you. You subtly nod, hoping he wouldn't connect the dots. You actually came up with that name on the spot since it sounds like his but a girl version.

you saw him think some more, he briefly looked away. You sweat a bit, suspecting he might've caught on.

"or if you have another sugge—"

"no no, I like it! Izumi.. hmm." He reassurs you with a swift smile then turns toward the now-named baby, Izumi.

he boops her nose lightly, calling her name.

"well hello izumi." He cooed softly. Izumi cooes back even appearing to smile back at him. You stand and watch from afar with an aching heart, you didn't know how much you could take from these adorable interactions.

well apparently not for long, she began crying just seconds later.

you and izuku went into panic mode.

"oh god she's crying again!"

"oh wow, you didn't need to rant this time... huh.."

"y/n!"

"sorry.."

[thechaoticplayer]

Luca smut omg- bratty reader and brat tamer luca 🛐 jsbsjdbjshs i can't stop thinking about it

author's note: JEJEHDIEDHEI 😩😩😩 BRAT TAMER LUCA... TY ANON BC IM A BRAT MYSELF AND OMLLLLLL YES JUST. YES. Also mad shorter than expected but what can I sayyyy

Summary: Brat Tamer Luca has to put your bratty ass into place for all the shit you've been doing to him <3

Contains: FILTHY FILTHY DIRTY SMUT. LUCA KANESHIRO X READER. eatablished relationship, degrading, Luca bullying you and being extremely rough but that's ok bc hes such a daddy, my phone being on 19% and forcing it to work like Luca is with u fr

Mdni or not idgaf

Being the mafia boss's boyfriend came with a shit ton of perks: no one could say anything to you (you can't do this or you're not allowed to do that), you could do basically whatever the hell you want without repercussions, and Luca Kaneshiro spoiled you to death. It wouldn't have come as a surprise if you turned into a brat because of it.

And here you are, whining because your boyfriend has to go meet with some guy he's working with. He's not as important as you are!

"Babe, I have to go, it's important for the mafia," Luca murmurs softly into your hair as you cling to him tightly. Your arms wrapped around his waist and face buried in his chest, you showed no signs of letting go. He sighs. "I'll try my best to make it quick, alright? Just-"

"No!" Your muffled voice replies, before glancing up at him with big eyes. "I want you. To stay."

"Babe..."

"Don't 'babe' me. I guess your mafia is more important than me." You release him and step back, abruptly turning your back towards him, crossing your arms. "Whatever. Bye."

Luca stares at your back for a second, absolutely torn for a second. "What? no, of course you're important-"

"I'm second and always be second, huh?" You saunter to the bed you two share and throw yourself onto it. You rest your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes. "It's fine. Go ahead. I'll just find someone else to play with."

He goes silent. You don't open your eyes.

A beat's worth of silence. "Got nothing to say now, huh?" You scoff, a smirk playing on your lips. "I suppose you've gotten so-"

You yelp as you feel rough hands latch themselves onto your thighs and yank you downwards, and your eyes fly open. Luca leans over you with a dark look in his eyes, brows furrowed in silent anger.

"You suppose ive gotten... what?" The plush of your ass is tightly against his crotch, his gloved hands digging into your skin.

"...soft." His eyes smolder, a fire in his gaze as he leans closer to your face.

"Soft?" He echoes, a sultry chuckle sending a shiver upon your spine. "No no no, I think you got it all wrong, sweetheart..."

The mafia boss hooks your legs over his shoulders, his bigger and wider form trapping you underneath him as he grinds against your wet panties, the skirt your wearing riding up to your hips. You stifle a moan, biting your lip hard.

"You've always liked it when I'm a bit rough with you, hmm?"

"Tch! Don't you have somewhere to be?" You reply haughtily, trying hard for a whimper to not slip past your lips as he grinds slowly.

"It can wait, no? Besides..." Luca's breath tickles your ear. "Theres a certain someone, who needs to be taken care of."

"Yeah. Your friend."

"What a fucking-" Out of nowhere, Luca flips you onto your stomach, leaving you squawking as he spread your legs open, ass in the air. "Brat."

"W-wait a minute!" You stammer as you turn your head to see him rip off his pants and unleashing his cock from its confines, big and hard. The glint in his eyes suggest you were probably not going to be able to walk for a good couple of weeks. "L-Luca, wait!"

"No," he growls, pushing your panties aside and sinking his still gloved fingers into you. A whimper tears itself from your throat as he plunges the digit in and out of your crying hole. "Brats need to be taught a fucking lesson. look at how wet you are. Filthy slut."

"I wouldn't have been- mmph! A b-brat if you didn't leave me all the- ah... t-time!" You blabber, your legs already shaking a bit from how rough and quickly he was fingering you.

"Leave you?" Luca repeats, incredulous. "God, I made you into a fucking brat! Spoiling you all the time, giving you everything you could have ever wanted..."

He slips his finger out, lining up his cock with your entrance. Your mouth almost waters at the sight and he laughs at your lustful expression. "Is this what you want? then I'll gladly give to you, and you won't even dare forget this..."

The mafia boss shoves his girth into, splitting you open. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets as Luca doesn't even allow you to adjust to his size. You were fucked by him plenty of times before, but your hole could never get quite used to his thickness. Luca drills his cock into you, the fat tip kissing your g-spot deliciously so.

The bed squeaks and groans underneath you both, loud moans spilling from your mouth. You turn your face into the pillows, only to be yanked back up. You gasp as Luca forces you to arch, the angle causing you to see stars.

"L-Luca- a-ah! Fuck fuck fuckfuck-" You moan and whimper and whine as Luca's dick pummels itself into you, your walls clenching around him.

"This is what you want, huh?" Luca breaths raggedly into your ear, one hand fondling with your tit. How sensitive you've become, moaning from pure pleasure. "Want me to fuck you dumb?"

"Y-y-you asshole-!"

A sharp snap of his hips force you to choke on another keening moan. "What was that, darling? couldn't catch that."

Only moans answer and he chortles. Luca can feel you getting close, but why stop there? Why not make you wish you never provoked him in the first place? How dare you say that you'll go find someone else to play with in his absence! He tsks as you squirm underneath him. No no, he'll make you beg for him to stop, and even after that he won't obey.

You cum hard around his cock but the mafia boss still bullies himself into you as you twitch. tears rolls down your face as you attempt to scramble away, but Luca pulls you all the way back so now you're riding his cock, back arched against him. You babble sentences don't even make sense as your brain was fucked to mush.

"What's wrong? can't speak anymore?" Luca coos, thrusting himself deeper and deeper. His voice deep and husky, your fluids staining his shirt but he could really care less. "Fucked you so good- what a cock drunk whore."

You whine, skin slapping against skin as you ride his dick, legs shaking and stickiness against your thighs. Luca bites your neck, leaving a trail of bite marks against your dainty skin. He licks from your shoulder to your neck, suckling. Luca can feel the vibrations through your throat as you make such pretty noises for him. Was it possible that he seemed to get even harder and even larger inside of you?

His hips slot up to meet yours and you cum once more, drool dripping down your lips. Luca groans as he feels your walls clench and your hot cum envelopes his dick. He fucks you through your second orgasm until he releases a guttural grunt and shoots his loads deep into your tummy.

"I'm not done," he pants, pulling out of you and throwing you back down on your back. "So far from done."

"L-Luca..." you whimper quietly, body heaving and near close to exhaustion.

He cups a hand to your cheek. "You did this to yourself, pretty girl..."

Luca's mouth hovers over your tit, blowing on it and watching the nipple grow hard. Another chuckle as he pops the tit into his mouth, sucking hard. Your hand finds itself in his blond hair, soft and airy whines in the air. He releases the tit and goes to the other, teeth grazing it.

He kisses down your tummy, opening your legs in the process. The mafia boss lowers to your aching pussy, somehow getting wet all over again. Luca licks a stripe up your abused cunt and a shaky sigh comes out your mouth.

"Horny bitch." Bringing you closer to his mouth, his tongue circles your clit as his hot breaths fan in between your thighs. "Came twice already, and it still isnt enough..."

His entire mouth is on you now, slurping and teasing and sucking. You tug his hair hard, making the mafia boss growl lowly into your pussy. The vibrations add to the upcoming orgasm, your moans filling the room and you were sure everyone within the house could hear. Neither of you gave a damn as he continued his assault on your weeping cunt.

You cum against his face and he laps up every single drop, kissing and biting your thighs while doing so. Your chest rises rapidly up and down, and Luca observes your fucked out expression. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're just about ready to pass out.

Until... "Oh no, you aren't getting any breaks." Luca yanks you back up and turns himself in one smooth motion so now you're kneeling before him, his yet again hard cock in front of your eyes. "Suck, whore."

You eagerly take the cock in your hands, the slick from both parties still covered all over it.

There is definitely more where that's coming from.

[blackroserelina]

Once Lost Now Found

I'm not much of a writer I had to use AI to even get this done, but this is basically the story for the lost one out line I did. I'm not fully happy with it but it's what I can do.

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"Pfft, what a bust," Marinette exclaimed as she stomped into the dimly lit coffee shop. The hotel's coffee pot had decided to brew its last cup of sludge that morning, leaving her desperate for a decent caffeine fix before the big tour of Wayne Enterprise. She was in Gotham for a class trip, and the thought of facing the day without her usual buzz was as appealing as a soggy croissant.

Her eyes landed on the menu, and she felt a glimmer of hope as she spotted the "Death by Espresso" option. "Perfect," she murmured, stepping up to the counter. "One of those, please."

The barista, a young man with a slightly worried look, asked "You're sure you can handle it?"

Marinette's determination didn't waver. "Trust me, I need it."

As she waited for her drink, she heard the door chime, and in walked a figure that was both familiar and foreign to her. Tim Drake, in his casual yet expensive attire, strode in with the confidence of someone who was used to the chaos of Gotham. His eyes scanned the room, and when they met hers, he paused for a fraction of a second before ordering the same lethal concoction.

Their drinks arrived simultaneously, and they both went to grab them, "Well, I guess we have similar tastes in coffee," Tim said, noticing her bewilderment.

Marinette couldn't help but laugh nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

Tim's eyes searched hers, and she felt a strange sense of comfort from his presence. "I'm Tim," he said, extending a hand. "Timothy Drake."

Marinette took his hand, her grip firm yet gentle. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Tim's smile grew as he replied, "Nice to meet you, Marinette."

As they stepped out of the coffee shop, the harsh reality of Gotham's streets hit them like a cold wind. Marinette's eyes grew wide as she spotted the bus, her class's yellow beacon of safety, pulling away from the curb. Panic set in, and she looked around frantically for any sign of the teacher who was supposed to be looking out for her.

"You, okay?" Tim asked, his eyes narrowing at the bus's retreating figure.

Marinette nodded, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. "Yeah, I just… I can't believe they left without me."

Tim's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and concern. "That's unacceptable. You're not from around here, are you?"

Marinette nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It's a class trip from Paris. I won the contest to come here."

Tim's eyes widened. "Paris? That's amazing! But it's also incredibly irresponsible of them to leave you behind."

Marinette felt a warmth spread through her chest at his genuine concern. "It's okay," she lied, trying to put on a brave face. "I'm sure they'll realize and come back for me."

Tim's expression was grim. "I wouldn't bet on it. Gotham's not the safest place to be stranded, especially if you're not from around here." He checked his watch. "Look, I'm heading to Wayne Enterprise myself for some work. You can come with me, and I'll make sure you get to the tour on time."

Marinette hesitated, eyeing him warily. Gotham was a city of shadows and secrets, and she wasn't about to trust a stranger, no matter how kind he seemed. But as she focused on his aura, she felt a gentle warmth, a sense of protection and sincerity that washed away her fears. "Okay," she agreed, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Tim."

The ride to Wayne Enterprise was filled with nervous energy, their conversation bouncing between the mundane and the profound. Tim spoke of his love for Gotham, despite its dangers, and Marinette shared her excitement for the tour, her voice filled with hope and wonder. As they approached the towering building, Marinette's heart raced.

Upon their arrival, Dick Grayson was already waiting for them. His gaze swept over the group of students, and his eyes lingered on Marinette as she stepped into the lobby, clutching her purse tightly to herself. His stomach twisted in knots as he heard the whispers of her classmates, the cruel taunts that seemed to follow her wherever she went. He had been informed by Tim of the situation, and it was all he could do to keep from swooping in and putting an end to it right there.

As Marinette sees her class, she knows her time with him has ended so she waves goodbye to Tim.

"I'll be okay," she assured him with a forced smile. "Thank you again for the ride."

Tim nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he turned to leave. Dick stepped forward, a mask of professionalism sliding into place as he began the tour. Throughout the grand halls of Wayne Enterprise, Lila's voice echoed like a siren's call, weaving tall tales of her connections and the importance of her family name. The class hung on her every word, their eyes glazed over with adoration, while Dick felt his patience wearing thinner than a spider's web.

Marinette alone remained unshaken by Lila's deceitful charm, her eyes never leaving Dick as she listened to the real stories he shared about the company's history and its commitment to the city. Her gaze was a beacon of sanity in a sea of naivety. He found himself grateful for her silent support, her nods of understanding grounding him in the face of such blatant dishonesty.

As the tour dragged on, the rest of the class remained enraptured by Lila's fabrications, while Marinette discreetly sent glances Dick's way, her expressions a silent question. He returned her looks with a mix of exasperation and amusement, his respect for her growing with every step.

"Miss Bustier," Dick called out, his voice echoing in the vast lobby, "I think it's time we moved on."

Lila rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, come on, Mr. Grayson, we're having so much fun!"

The class giggled in unison, clearly on her side. Dick felt a headache coming on. "Miss Rossi," he said firmly, "let's not hold up the tour any longer."

Lila huffed, but complied, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Marinette couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for Dick. He had been trying so hard to give them a real insight into the company, and all they cared about were her classmates' petty gossip and exaggerated tales of wealth. She walked closer to him, her eyes scanning and hands fiddling with the locket that was her silent companion around her neck.

"Thank you for the tour," she said quietly, her voice sincere.

Dick nodded, his eyes scanning the locket around her neck. It was a subtle gesture, but Marinette caught it. "You're welcome, Marinette. It's not every day we get such an insightful visitor."

As the tour concluded, the students dispersed, eager to explore the rest of Gotham, but Marinette lingered, her eyes on the locket that had drawn Dick's attention. The rest of the class had ignored the actual tour, lost in Lila's fabricated tales of grandeur, but she had been the one to truly listen and appreciate the stories Dick had shared about the city and the company.

Dick noticed her lingering and approached her. "You seem like the only one who actually enjoyed the tour," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Marinette shrugged, her cheeks flushing. "I guess I just like to learn about new places."

Dick's smile grew, and he gave her a warm pat on the shoulder. "You're a breath of fresh air in this city," he said before turning to leave.

Marinette watched him go, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and excitement. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him than met the eye. She knew he wasn't just any employee at Wayne Enterprise; she could feel it.

The class trip continued, and that evening they all went to a fancy restaurant for dinner. The chatter was loud, a cacophony of French and English blending together. Lila, as usual, held court, spinning tales of her fabulous life in Paris that made the other students' eyes widen with envy. Marinette tried to ignore the noise, focusing instead on her meal. The food was delicious, but the company was… less than ideal.

As the meal ended and the students began to leave, Marinette told Miss Bustier that she had to use the restroom really quick.

"Don't take too long," Miss Bustier called out, already halfway out the door.

Marinette nodded and hurried to the bathroom. When she emerged, the restaurant was empty except for a few lingering staff. She felt a cold hand of fear grips her heart—she had been left behind again. Panic rising, she fumbled for her phone in her pocket, only to find it as lifeless as a forgotten souvenir. The battery was dead.

With no way to call for help, she stepped out into the darkening streets of Gotham. The once vibrant and bustling metropolis now seemed like a labyrinth of shadows and danger. She had been warned about the city's notorious reputation, but she never thought she would be alone in it. As she wandered, trying to remember the way back to the hotel, she heard the distant sound of laughter and footsteps growing louder. Two men turned the corner, leering at her.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little tourist," one of them sneered, his teeth glinting in the dim streetlight.

Marinette took a deep breath, her hand instinctively moving to the locket around her neck. It was all she had left of home, of her father, and she wasn't about to let anyone take that from her. She had been trained in martial arts, thanks to her adopted mother's insistence and with her experience as Ladybug, she wasn't going to let fear dictate her actions.

The alley grew quieter as their footsteps grew closer. The moon cast eerie shadows that danced on the damp pavement. The smell of rotting trash mixed with the scent of rain that hung in the air. She knew she had to end this quickly. With a swift move, she grabbed one man's arm and twisted it behind his back, causing him to cry out in pain. The second man lunged at her, but she was ready. She ducked under his arm and delivered a powerful kick to his midsection, sending him reeling into the wall.

As she spun around to face the first attacker, she felt a hand on her shoulder, firm yet gentle. "Easy there, kitten," a gruff voice said. She whipped around, ready to fight, only to find a man dressed in red and black, a hood shadowing his face.

Marinette's heart raced as she took in the newcomer. The two men she had just fought were groaning on the ground, but the new figure didn't seem concerned with them. "Who are you?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

The man in red and black, known as Red Hood, chuckled softly. "Someone who doesn't like to see a pretty girl like you fighting in the streets."

Marinette's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back, her instincts telling her to be wary. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Red Hood's grip on her shoulder tightened for a moment before he realized his mistake and let go. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said, his voice calmer now. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

Marinette eyed him warily, her heart pounding in her chest. The locket felt heavy around her neck, a silent reminder of her father's love and protection. "Thanks," she managed to say, her voice still shaking slightly. "I can handle myself."

Red Hood studied her for a moment, his eyes piercing through the shadows of his hood. "I can see that," he said with a hint of admiration. "But it's not every day you find a tourist who can take down two thugs without breaking a sweat. What's your secret?"

Marinette swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. She couldn't tell him the truth, not here, not now. "Just a little self-defense," she lied, trying to keep her voice steady. "My mom taught me."

Red Hood's eyes searched hers as if looking for a glimpse of the truth behind her words. After a moment, he nodded. "Good for you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of a Southern drawl. "But you shouldn't be out here alone. It's not safe."

Marinette felt a shiver run down her spine, her earlier bravado fading in the face of his intense gaze. "I know," she murmured, her eyes darting to the unconscious men on the ground. "My class left me behind."

Red Hood's expression darkened. "Stay here," he instructed, his voice firm. He stepped over to the thugs and tied them up with a swiftness that spoke of experience. He pulled out a small communicator from his utility belt and spoke into it, arranging for their pickup.

Marinette watched him, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence. She knew he was dangerous, a vigilante of some kind, but he didn't feel threatening to her. Her eyes wandered to the locket again, the warm metal pressing against her skin.

"You okay?" Red Hood asked, his voice softer now.

Marinette nodded, still trembling slightly. "I think so," she whispered. "I just want to go back to the hotel."

Red Hood looked at her for a long moment before nodding. "I'll take you there," he said. "But you have to stay close."

Marinette nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She could feel his concern, his protective aura wrapping around her like a warm blanket. As they walked through the streets of Gotham, she couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with him. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something comforting about the way he moved, the confidence in his steps.

"What's your name?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Red Hood," he replied, his eyes never leaving the shadows. "How about you?"

Marinette took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of rain. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Red Hood nodded. "Nice to meet you, Marinette," he said, his eyes scanning the street. "Now, let's get you out of here."

They moved swiftly through the alleyways, sticking to the shadows. Marinette could feel his eyes on her, checking if she was okay, if she needed help. She didn't. Her training as Ladybug had prepared her for moments like this, but she appreciated his concern.

As they neared the hotel, the streets grew quieter, the neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement. The rain had started to fall, a soft patter that grew louder with each step. Red Hood pulled his hood up further, shielding his face from the downpour.

Marinette felt a twinge of sadness as they approached the hotel's glowing entrance. She didn't want to leave him, didn't want to return to the cold reality of her classmates' indifference. But she knew she had to.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the rain. "For everything."

Red Hood nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're welcome," he said, his grip on her shoulder reassuring. "And remember, Gotham can be a tough place. Stick with your group and stay safe."

Marinette stepped into the light of the hotel lobby, the warmth enveloping her as the rain continued to fall outside. She watched as Red Hood melted back into the shadows, his figure disappearing as if he had never been there. The encounter left her with more questions than answers, but she knew she had to keep moving forward.

The elevator ride to her room felt like an eternity. Each floor that passed brought back the memory of her father's eyes." The locket felt like a burning ember against her skin, a constant reminder of her lost past.

When the doors finally opened, Marinette rushed into her room and collapsed onto the bed, the locket still clutched in her hand. She stared at it, the inscription blurring through her tears. "My most beloved daughter M.W.," she whispered, tracing the letters with her thumb. "Daddy loves you always." as she cried herself to sleep.

The next day, she was paired with Damian Wayne for the visit to Gotham Academy. His cold demeanor was intimidating, but Marinette felt a strange pull towards him. Throughout the day, she saw glimpses of kindness beneath his tough exterior, especially when he defended her from a sneering comment by one of the other students. His sharp gaze was assessing, and she couldn't help but feel that he was searching for something in her, something she wasn't even sure she knew existed.

As they walked the halls, Marinette found herself opening up to Damian, sharing her love for art and her dreams of becoming a fashion designer. His initial skepticism gradually gave way to something resembling respect, and by the end of the day, she had earned a rare smile from the young heir to the Wayne legacy.

In the bustling cafeteria, they sat side by side, surrounded by the cacophony of chatter and clanging trays. Marinette picked at her food, lost in thought about the events of the past few days.

"You know," Damian began, his voice low and contemplative, "you're not like the others."

Marinette looked up from her tray, surprised by his sudden openness. "What do you mean?" she asked a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

Damian's gaze was fixed on her, his dark eyes unreadable. "You're… different," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have… a strength about you."

Marinette felt her cheeks flush. "Thanks," she murmured, unsure of how to respond.

Damian's gaze remained steadfast. "You remind me of someone," he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite place.

Marinette's heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Could he somehow know about her secret life as Ladybug? She quickly dismissed the thought. No, it wasn't possible. "Really?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. "Who?"

Damian leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "Someone important," he said, his voice dropping even lower. "Someone who has faced darkness and come out stronger for it."

Marinette's heart raced. Could he be referring to Ladybug? Her mind raced with possibilities, but she kept her expression neutral. "That's a nice compliment," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Damian nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's more than that," he said, his voice intense. "It's a recognition of something… extraordinary."

Marinette felt a jolt of adrenaline. She had never met anyone who seemed to see through her so easily. Her heart pounded in her chest as she wondered if he could be talking about her heroic alter ego. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Damian leaned back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I've seen the way you handle yourself," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "The way you stand up to bullies, even when you're scared. It's… inspiring."

Marinette felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. Someone was finally seeing her, not just her classmates' version of her. "Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by his words.

Damian's smirk grew. "You're welcome," he said. "You know, if you ever need anything while you're in Gotham, just let me know."

Marinette's eyes widened slightly. Was he offering to help her, not just as a fellow student but as something more? "Thanks," she said, her voice a bit shaky. "But I'm sure I'll be fine."

Damian's smirk didn't falter. "I'm sure you will," he said, his tone sincere. "But sometimes, even the strongest heroes need a hand."

Marinette's thoughts swirled as she took in his words. Was he hinting at something? Did he know her secret? Impossible, she thought, pushing the doubt aside. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that he saw more than he let on.

The rest of the day at Gotham Academy was a blur. The tension between her and Damian grew thicker with every shared glance and whispered conversation. She felt like she was walking on eggshells, not wanting to give anything away.

As the class boarded the bus back to the hotel, Marinette couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. She knew she had to keep her distance from the Wayne brothers, not just to protect her secret but also to protect them from the danger that followed her. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were somehow connected, that they were all part of something much larger than themselves.

That night, she couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing with the day's events. The way Red Hood had moved, the way Tim and Dick had looked at her during the tour, and now Damian's cryptic words. It was all too much to process. Her heart felt like it was going to burst with excitement and fear.

The next day, the class was scheduled to visit the Gotham Museum of Art.

Marinette walked through the grand halls, feeling a strange mix of awe and anxiety. She had always loved art, but in Gotham, it felt different, as if each painting held a secret of the city's dark soul. She found solace in the quiet whispers of the brushstrokes, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

As the tour group moved from one exhibit to the next, she noticed a peculiar painting that had been recently added. It was a portrait of a young girl with her mother, and the girl's eyes seemed to follow her, filled with a sense of longing that resonated deep within her. The plaque beside it read, "Marinette Wayne," and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

The first name was the same as hers, and the resemblance in the eyes was uncanny. The more she stared, the more she felt like she was looking into a mirror reflecting a past she couldn't remember. The rest of the class had moved on, but she remained, lost in the haunting beauty of the portrait.

It was then that she heard a soft footstep behind her, and she spun around to see Bruce Wayne standing there, his eyes fixed on the painting as well.

"It's a beautiful piece, isn't it?" he said, his voice low and measured.

Marinette nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the painting. "It's… haunting," she murmured.

Bruce stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the painting. "It reminds me of someone," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Someone very important to me."

Marinette felt her heart clench in her chest for some reason.

Bruce continued, "Marinette was my daughter," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "She was… she was everything to me."

Marinette's breath caught in her throat. The locket grew heavier on her neck. "Your…daughter?" she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce nodded his gaze still on the painting. "Yes," he said, his voice filled with a sadness that seemed to echo through the museum. "She was taken from me when she was very young. I've been searching for her ever since."

Marinette's eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief. "What…what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Bruce took a deep breath, his eyes welling up with pain. "She was kidnapped," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I've devoted my life to finding her, and to making sure no one else has to go through what she did."

Marinette's hand flew to her locket, her heart racing for some reason. She felt a strange kinship with this man, a bond that she couldn't explain. "Di… did you ever find any leads?" she asked.

Bruce's eyes searched hers, the pain in his gaze was palpable. "No," he said, his voice strained. "Every trail went cold. I never gave up hope, but… it's been so long."

Marinette felt a tear slip down her cheek. The story was all too familiar, but she didn't know why. "I'm sorry," she murmured, not knowing what else to say.

Bruce's gaze softened, and he reached out to gently wipe the tear away. "It's alright," he said, his voice filled with a warmth she hadn't heard in years. "Life is full of tragedies, but also moments of beauty, like this painting."

Marinette nodded, her eyes still glued to the portrait. "It's just… it's eerie how much she looks like me," she whispered.

Bruce's hand froze, and he leaned in closer, examining her features. "You do share a resemblance," he said, his voice tight with restrained emotion. "Perhaps it's the eyes."

Marinette's heart raced as he took a step back, composing himself. "It's just a coincidence," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. "I'm sure lots of people have similar eyes."

Bruce nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the locket she unconsciously clutched. "Perhaps," he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken questions. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Marinette's hand tightened around the locket, the carving of 'M.W.' feeling like a brand on her skin. Her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle that was her life.

"Marinette," Bruce said gently, using her name for the first time. The sound of it on his lips sent a wave of longing through her. "Do you have a moment to talk in private?"

She nodded, and he led her to a secluded corner of the museum. The silence between them was deafening, filled with the weight of unspoken truths.

"I know this might sound strange," Bruce began, his voice gentle yet firm. "But I need to ask you something important." He took hold of the locket around her neck, the weight of its contents heavy. "Do you know what this means?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide with shock "It's… it's just a necklace," she lied, her voice trembling. "It's special to me, but I don't know what it means."

Bruce's eyes searched hers, and she could see the hope and fear mingling in the depths of his gaze. "Marinette," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look inside."

With trembling hands, she opened the locket. The same words she had read countless times stared back at her, "My most beloved daughter M.W. Daddy loves you always." But this time, something clicked. The initials matched the name from the painting. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

Bruce's eyes searched hers, holding the locket between them. "Do you know who this is?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and fear.

Marinette felt the room spin as she stared at the locket, the reality of the situation crashing down upon her. "It… it's me," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "It's… I'm M.W."

Bruce's hand trembled as he cupped her cheek, his eyes searching hers. "Marinette," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it possible?"

Marinette's eyes filled with tears as she nodded slowly. "I… I think so," she choked out, the weight of the revelation too much to bear.

Bruce's own eyes glistened with unshed tears as he cradled her face in his hands. "Marinette," he breathed, her name like a prayer on his lips. "My baby girl."

The dam of emotions broke, and Marinette threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring her to this moment, to this place where she could finally find the love she had been searching for her entire life. Bruce held her tightly, his own eyes filled with tears as he whispered soothing words into her ear, the warmth of his embrace bringing a sense of belonging she had never felt before.

Marinette pulled away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Daddy," she whispered, testing the word she hadn't dared to speak in so long.

Their moment was interrupted by the concerned chatter of the approaching tour group. Bruce quickly composed himself, his eyes scanning the room. He knew they couldn't stay here, not like this. "Marinette," he said, urgency in his tone. "We need to talk. In private."

They found a quiet spot in the museum's garden, the chilly Gotham air a stark contrast to the warmth of their conversation. "What do we do now?" Marinette asked, her voice still shaking.

Bruce took a deep breath, the reality of the situation setting in. "First, we need to find out for sure," he said, his voice firm.

Marinette nodded, wiping her eyes. "How do we do that?" she asked, hope mingling with fear.

Bruce took a deep breath. "We need to get a DNA test," he said. "It's the only way to be certain."

Marinette's heart raced at the thought. "But…but what if it's true?" she stammered. "What if I am your daughter?"

Bruce's gaze softened as he took her hand in his. "Then we'll deal with it together," he assured her. "But we need to be certain."

Marinette nodded, her mind racing with the implications. "Okay," she said, her voice small. "But how do we explain this to everyone?"

Bruce's expression grew serious. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said. "For now, we need to keep this between us. The less people know, the better."

Marinette nodded, her mind reeling with the gravity of their situation. She knew that if it were true, it would change everything. Her life in Paris, her friends, her secret identity – all of it would be turned upside down.

"We'll figure this out together," he said, his voice a soothing balm to her racing thoughts. "But for now, we need to keep this between us. I'll arrange for a discreet DNA test tomorrow."

Marinette nodded, her mind racing with the implications of her potential lineage. Could she really be the lost daughter of Bruce Wayne? It was too much to comprehend.

The rest of the day was a blur as she went through the motions of the tour, her thoughts consumed by the revelation. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and dread intertwined. Her heart ached with the hope of finally finding her family, yet the fear of losing everything she knew was ever-present.

That night, she lay in her hotel bed, the locket clutched tightly in her hand. Her mind was a whirlwind of questions, and she couldn't shake the feeling that her entire life was about to change. The DNA test loomed over her like a storm cloud, and she found it hard to sleep.

The next day, Bruce arranged for a private meeting in his office at Wayne Enterprise. Under the guise of meeting the winner that won the class this trip. The gleaming skyscraper stood tall against the gloomy Gotham skyline, a symbol of hope amidst the city's darkness. Marinette's heart hammered in her chest as she stepped into the elevator, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on her.

When the elevator doors slid open, she was greeted by Alfred, Bruce's loyal butler. His kind eyes searched hers, and she wondered if he knew the truth they were about to uncover. He led her into a plush office, where Bruce was waiting, his expression a mask of calm she couldn't quite read.

The DNA test was quick and painless, but the wait was agonizing. They talked in hushed tones, avoiding the subject at hand, their eyes darting to the clock on the wall as the minutes ticked by. Marinette felt like she was in a dream, one that she didn't want to end but knew would bring a reality she wasn't prepared for.

Bruce excused himself to take a call, leaving Marinette alone with her thoughts. She gazed out the window at the sprawling cityscape, the stark contrast of the gleaming Wayne Tower against the grimy buildings of Gotham a stark reminder of the life she might have had.

When he returned, his eyes were heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. "The results will be in tomorrow," he said, his voice tight.

Marinette nodded, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling a knot form in her stomach.

The next 24 hours were the longest of her life. She walked through the streets of Gotham, the weight of the locket and the potential truth it held pressing down on her like a leaden cloak. She couldn't focus on anything else, her thoughts a tornado of what-ifs and maybes. Her interactions with her classmates were forced, her mind elsewhere.

The night brought no rest. She tossed and turned in her hotel bed, the locket lying like a hot coal on her chest. The whispers of the wind outside seemed to carry the secrets of the city, secrets that could soon be her own. The room felt too small, the air too thick to breathe.

The next day dragged on like a mournful symphony, each second a painful crescendo towards the truth. The class continued with their Gotham adventures, but Marinette was lost in her thoughts, unable to fully engage with the world around her. She found solace in the quiet moments, the gentle hum of the city's pulse a lullaby that sang of a past she had long ago forgotten.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Gotham in a cloak of twilight, Marinette waited anxiously in the hotel lobby. The grand clock ticked away the moments, each chime echoing through her soul like a countdown to destiny. And then, as if on cue, the elevator doors parted, and Bruce emerged, his eyes filled with a solemn intensity that told her the moment of truth had arrived.

He approached her, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. In his hand, he held a small envelope, the seal of the lab stark and official. Marinette's heart felt as if it were about to burst from her chest as he handed it to her, his own hand trembling slightly.

With trembling fingers, she took the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper. The words she read sent a shockwave through her entire being. The DNA test results were conclusive: she was indeed Marinette Wayne, the long-lost daughter of Bruce Wayne. The truth hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her legs give out beneath her.

Bruce caught her before she could fall, his strong arms wrapping around her as she sobbed into his chest. "It's okay," he murmured over and over, his voice a comforting rumble that she hadn't heard since she was a child. "You're home now."

Marinette looked up at him, her eyes blurred with tears. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice small and scared.

Bruce's gaze held hers, filled with a fierce determination. "We get to know each other," he said firmly. "You're not alone anymore."

Marinette nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of joy and fear. She had found her father, but what about her mother? The woman in the portrait, the woman she had never known?

Bruce seemed to read her thoughts. "Your mother was a wonderful person," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "She was… she was taken from us when you were very young. But I promise you, she would be proud of the strong, brave woman you've become."

Marinette felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over. "I don't know how to be a Wayne," she whispered. "I don't know anything about this life."

Bruce's grip on her tightened. "You don't have to be anyone but yourself," he assured her. "I'll be here to guide you, to help you navigate this new chapter."

Marinette took a shaky breath, trying to process the monumental revelation. "What about my life in Paris? I have responsibility there."

Bruce nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. "We'll figure it out," he promised. "We'll take it one step at a time."

[le-panda-chocovore]

I told you guys I was going to write it

"No, you don't."

Toji's voice echoed on the walls and in Shiu's ears like an ineluctable truth. He stood still, arm crossed on his chest, staring at the middleman with an unimpressed look on his face.

"What ?"

"I said you don't," he repeated but it still didn't make sense to the Korean man. "You don't love me."

Shiu blinked and stayed silent. What was he even supposed to say to that ? What kind of rejection was that ? He expected many things from Toji, he honestly didn't think the man would accept his feelings easily, but this was more violent and weird than any scenario he had played in his head before confessing. He was so ready to handle Toji being on the defensive, claiming that he's not interested in men (despite them fucking every now and then, often after a job), that now he didn't know how to react to the man saying that he -Shiu- didn't actually love him. As if he was wrong about his own feelings.

It could be worse, Shiu thought. Toji could have laughed at him or called him a slur. That wouldn't be too surprising. Actually, that would be more realistic than Toji's actual reaction.

"What makes you say that ?" And, because the other man didn't answer the question, Toji felt the need to elaborate. "What makes you think that you have feelings for me ?"

"Huh," Shiu hesitated, because this was a weird thing to ask someone who just confessed.

It was embarrassing enough to fall in love with Toji Fushiguro -the infamous Sorcerer Killer- and it had been hard to gather the courage to tell him, and now he was supposed to justify his feelings ? Was this a prank or what ? Did he anger a god or something ? How did he even end up in this painfully ridiculous situation ?

"Well," he started and immediately looked away. Toji's insensitive stare was uncomfortable. "Hum, I guess I... I feel happy when you're around ? I mean, sure you're annoying, you're a sick bastard, but you still manage to make me feel better just by standing near me. I can't stop myself from looking at you whenever we're in the same room, I want to touch you and kiss you and talk to you. So... Yeah, things, like that, you know ?"

Toji hummed lightly. He hadn't moved an inch, eyes entirely focused on the man who apparently was insane enough to fall in love with him. Or to believe so.

Shiu was uncomfortable. He wanted to go home. He knew he'd regret confessing, he regretted having feelings even before talking about them. He had no idea what was on Toji's mind or what he wanted him to say, so he kept going, hoping that the man would finally stop staring holes through his soul like that.

"And, uh, when you smile... Fuck that's embarrassing- Hum, alright. When you smile or laugh it does something to my heart, I can't really explain it, but it feels good."

"That's it ?" Toji asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't look convinced at all. "That's not love Shiu, you just find me good-looking, you don't have actual feelings."

Shiu frowned. He was getting frustrated and annoyed by that shithead's attitude. He didn't go through all stages of grief when he realized he was in love for that bastard to tell him he doesn't know what Love is. That was bullshit. He had spent a while wondering about his feelings, trying to hide them or deny them before finally accepting them. He wasn't an inexperienced teenager who didn't know the difference between finding someone handsome and being actually in love.

"You want more proofs ? Alright, let's go through this. I already started so I might as well tell you everything."

Shiu sighed and silently prayed to not blush while declaring all the cheesy thoughts he had about that motherfucker.

"I learned your favorite dish, and your favorite drink, and your favorite TV show too. I even learned how to cook it so you can eat it when you're staying at my place. I hesitated to buy something for your birthday, but you don't like celebrating it so I didn't do it. I also bought XXL clothes so you have something to wear when you come here unannounced and decide to stay a few nights. I actually want you to stay every night, and every day. I want to take you on a date, hold your hand when we're outside, share some food in a shitty restaurant because why not, go watch a movie and fall asleep against your shoulder cause the movie would be boring. I want to kiss you even when we're not fucking. I can't get enough of your lips, I want to taste them every hour of each day and to call you with a stupid petname because you're adorable and I fucking love you. And this is stupid, I don't even know why I'm talking so much, but you're doing this to me and I'm not going to pretend these fucking feelings don't exist."

He took a deep breath after blurting out all of this and tried not to think about how much he wanted to bury himself in the ground. He couldn't look at Toji, but he could feel that the killer was still staring at him.

"That doesn't mean anything," Toji retorted dubiously. "I feel that too and I'm not in love with you."

Shiu blinked.

"What ?" He turned his eyes toward the man. "What the fuck do you mean, you feel the same ???"

Toji sighed as if it was a stupid question. Shiu wanted to punch him because he was clearly not the one being stupid right now.

"Well, what you just said," he waved vaguely at Shiu. "That's what I feel when I'm with you. The heart thing with your cute smile and wanting to touch you 'cause you're warm. And your place is nice, there's good food and hot water, I wanna stay too. But since I don't have feelings, it means you mixed up love with something else."

Shiu stared with his eyes wide open. He opened his mouth, closed it, breathed deeply, and opened it again. Toji chuckled quietly, he thought he looked like a very confused fish.

Shiu was indeed confused. Confused about how the hell did that grown ass man not realize that he was madly in love too. He just said he felt the exact same thing, and he dared to claim he didn't love him back ? That better be a prank.

"...You find me cute ?"

Toji shrugged.

"Yeah, sometimes." He said that as if it was normal. Shiu wanted to kiss him. And punch him too, but perhaps after making love passionately with that huge dumbass.

"And you'd like to stay at my place ?"

"You cook well, and your bed is comfortable. Better than mine."

"What about holding hands and kissing ?" Shiu tried, confused but hopeful.

"Yeah yeah, I told you, it's all the same ! Well, maybe not the clothes things cause I don't have money to spend on it, but sometimes I take your stuff home cause it has your smell and I like that."

"..."

He didn't even have the words to explain to him how not normal what Toji just said was. He stared. The bastard stared back.

The problem was pretty clear to Toji, and it wasn't really a problem since he managed to solve it in two minutes. There was nothing to worry about. They didn't need to stop their little coworker with benefits arrangement and Toji was quite happy with that. He also found it kinda funny that Shiu really believed he caught feelings. The middleman liked to pretend he was the mature and smart one but sometimes he was really dumb.

Toji understood how Shiu felt toward him, like he said it was exactly the same on his side. If it was like Shiu said, that'd mean that Toji had feelings too, which was completely ridiculous. Toji wasn't a romantic man, but as far as he knew, love was more like . . .

Since they felt the same thing then-

And Toji knew he wasn't-

Which meant-

...Oh.

Well, fuck.

Maybe Shiu did love him after all.

[wolfiesmoon]

The aquamarine umbrella

duke!neuvillette x dutchess!reader

i have been consuming too much manhwa and too much neuvillette brainrot so this farted out my brain in approximately 4 hours (i know)

also it just so happens to be my first time whipping out my poetic writing side so that means it was written in my native language and then translated into eng because english vocab is scary ( T﹏T )

also you won't guess.... genshin debut!!! 😘😘😘😘😘

What happens when fate doesn't favour you? When you have to leave the place you once called home because of things beyond your authority?

You are sent to an unknown land in a decorated carriage and into the arms not of a Lord mysterious to all. Well, he is not a complete stranger to you, but the name 'Neuvillette' is not quite a sufficient description of his personality.

The closer you get to his estate, the more you realise your helplessness. As the daughter of an unfavoured duke in your country, you have been chosen for this unfortunate marriage. When father called you into his office, you did not expect his grim face. Or the news that you were to recieve on that fateful day.

So, fate decided to marry you to the heartless dragon of the waters, Neuvillette. Neuvillette is a bit... mysterious among the upper class. You only hear horrible but unconfirmed stories about him. But if there are so many, there's a good chance that at least one of them is true. He didn't even show up at the wedding ceremony, so you can only imagine his appearance.

Neither fierce anger nor the shedding of tears has solved your situation. It's not fair that you can just be sold around like property if you're a woman. But you also know that the King would have you executed if you opposed him. Maybe that would even be better.

You can just clutch the big, heavy bracelet around your neck, made of beautiful sparkling diamonds, and hope that the sky above you is full of stars for a few more years. That you will feel the satin covers under you when you wake up, that you will see the sunset every night.

These little things that you used to take for granted now threaten you with an eternal goodbye.

You should smile right now. Smile and look out of the beautifully decorated window of your carriage and wave at the people of his estate who wave back cheerfully in your direction.

His people do not look miserable. The houses are beautifully built and the smiles on the children's faces bring tears of happiness to your eyes. At least that can comfort you.

There are also small creatures waving at you which remind you of deer. You have never seen anything like them before in your life. You have only seen dead deer after a successful hunting trip from brother. You have always felt a little sorry for them.

They were probably happy in nature, surrounded by clear water, lush trees and the soothing chirping of birds. And in one moment, it all ends.

Perhaps now you understand how a deer feels.

Before you can think too much about the deer-like girls, the coachman is holding out his hand for you to get out of the carriage.

Fate has brought you in front of his castle. From inside, you can hear the soothing sound of water. How familiar.

With every step, the click of your heels can be heard echoing through the great hall. The maids bow to you, standing in a row. The interior of the castle is beautiful. You feel as if you are a small pebble in a bubbling brook, and everything around you sparkles.

Suddenly you hear your own name echoing around the hall. You look up and see him for the first time.

And oh, what a sight he is.

Eyes that sparkle like polished lapis lazuli jewels. Long white hair that looks like pristine silk. A hardened, blank face that holds no forgiveness. Is this what a dragon is supposed to look like?

You bow to him quickly. If you really don't want to become like a deer, it's better to be polite and obedient. Obedience is something that is implanted in you as a young duchess. It is all you've ever known. Quite unfortunate, is it not?

"Welcome to my estate. You probably know me already, but I politely ask you to refer to me by my surname. Since exactly one month ago, we are husband and wife by law. I hope you had a safe journey here." He greeted you formally. You also realised that he called you by your father's surname. Since you are his wife, you are now a Neuvillette. How odd.

It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself and answer him. "It is nice to be here."

The answer is quite modest, just as is expected from someone like you.

"Please take her to her room. I can't assure you that I'll always be here if concerns arise, but if you have any at all, you may consult me about it. I hope you sleep soundly tonight."

And so he disappeared down the beautiful blue corridor, leaving you with only the maids who, at his command, showed you the way to your chambers.

Your bed chamber is also a beautiful blue colour. He seems to have a liking for the color blue.

The sky is already turning red, dusk is approaching and with it your first night in your new home. Tonight you can see the sunset. The maids leave you alone, and you immediately lean against the window. Even though you can't see them yet, you are already asking the stars to forgive you. That you will never take anything for granted, as long as they shine. Then everything will be all right.

.

"How do you feel? I hope the food is to your tastes." Your husband suddenly speaks. He is sitting across the large dining table, but dishes are only placed on your side.

"Everything is fine." You hesitate for a few seconds, wondering if you should bring up your concern. "...B-But, why aren't you eating anything?" you quickly grab a decorated glass and take a big sip of water to fill the awkwardness.

"Human food mostly doesn't interest me, unless it has a large percentage of water. Simple water is more suited to my tastes." His answer is simple, but it doesn't surprise you. He is the hydro dragon, after all. Although you keep forgetting that, because he looks about the same as a human.

"Ah, so... Can.... can you tell me a little about yourself?" you hope you don't sound traitorous or as if you suspect him. So far he's been nothing but polite to you. But what do you know... it's always good to be sure.

"You look like you're guilty of something. I know that look well."

Before you have time to answer, he's already talking. Thank God.

"I don't know what exactly about me you're interested in. But I assume you already know some things about me. For purely impersonal reasons, I can already tell you that in all probability we will never know each other well." These words glue your eyes to his. You don't know exactly what it is, but there is an emotion behind them that is unknown to you. One that makes your chest feel tight.

"I am my land's ludex, not just its ruler. The chief of justice, if you will. I create and oversee laws and hold trials for the accused. I do not doubt you, believe me. But it is best if we keep a distance in between us. Impartiality is the primary virtue of a judge." He explained, eyes closed.

You don't know exactly why, but his words make your heart ache. You don't even know him, and he hasn't cruelly rejected you, but as a little girl you always read fairy tales about love, where a boy and a girl love each other for all eternity. No, since when are you so selfish?! Be happy that he doesn't beat you.

A sad reality many noblewomen in arranged marriages face.

"Ah, I see."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a kind of suffocating silence. You didn't know where to look. Perhaps this accident is suited to you, because nothing comes from nothing.

.

"It's raining today." The maid gently reminds you as she puts a necklace around your neck. You've never been particularly happy about rainy days, especially because of mother. She always made you wear brightly coloured dresses and would get yell at you late into the evening if you came inside with mud on the bottom of your dress.

And she didn't like it if you got wet, either. To you, rain is an inconvenience that occurs every now and then. Since you came here, you rarely get to see your husband. But his beautiful long hair reminds you of the white silk covers on your bed, and his blue eyes remind you of the diamond in your ring. That much hasn't changed.

You have a tradition of walking through the town every day and greeting people. Your parents made you stop doing this when you were a little girl, because "it is outrageous for the duchy to talk to the townspeople and peasants."

But now that you are Lady Neuvillette, that is no longer the case. You haven't had a chance to ask Neuvillette if you have permission to do so, but so far he hasn't said anything, so you think he doesn't mind.

You are very glad that he is a good man.

You have also made friends with the deer-like creatures, or rather the Melusines. You met one while on a walk and she seemed delighted to see you. After a while, the Melusines showed you their artwork and their cuisine. You thought it was strange, but you were happy to see your new friend's culture nonetheless.

Sometimes they tell you that they notice you immediately when you go out for a walk.

And today is no different. Even if it's a rainy day, the walk has become important for you, for the Melusines and for the people of his estate. The children who sometimes bring you freshly picked flowers make your heart swell.

The maids hand you an aquamarine umbrella, decorated with lace, in your hands at the entrance. It will do nicely.

You wave to the local children on your walk, say hello to the Melusines you meet on the way, and decide to visit a small waterfall in the area before returning. It's not the sunniest of days, but it's still a day to experience. And long ago, you promised the stars that you would look forward to every day.

But you notice something interesting by the waterfall. The closer and closer you get, the clearer this thing becomes. It's not a thing, it's your husband!

He's standing in the rain without an umbrella with a peaceful expression on his face. It is as if he is relieved of all pain. You are tempted to go to him and at the same time you want to leave him alone. You stand in the rain for a few seconds, but finally hear your heart calling you to him.

He notices you and greets you calmly. You stand next to him and watch the water bounce down the little river that flows under the waterfall.

"I'm sorry I don't come to see you as much as I would like. As my wife, you are my responsibility." As soon as he says it, you start defending him. You know how busy leading a fief can leave you. You've already got used to your new life, so there's really no need for him to worry.

"The Melusines tell me a lot about you."

"Really?!" You knew that the Melusines liked Neuvillette, but you didn't know that they also shared things about you to him.

"Really. Thank you for being so kind to them. Melusines are... important to me." His smile made you a little jealous. It's nothing, he knows Melusines better than you anyways. And the agreement still stands.

"You really like the rain, don't you?" you commented, looking at his peaceful face once again.

"Yes, really. The rain is beautiful." His eyes meet yours, and behind them there is undoubtedly a gleam of joy. And it stirs something new in you. You are not a deer. At least not here.

You don't know why, but suddenly you're holding his hand instead of your aquamarine umbrella and you're getting soaked by the rain.

He looks at you with surprise on his face, as if he never expected this to happen.

"Does it bother you?" you ask him, worried he doesn't like it.

"Not really. Feel free to hold my hand whenever you wish. You are my wife."

A comfortable silence fills the air, with only the sounds of the waterfall and the rain to accompany your thoughts.

What's a young lady to do with her heart if fate decides that she should fall in love with her distant husband?

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Agent Mega dissertation

Alright since I have such elaborate headcanon for my beloved precious Owen Carvour, I guess I should do it for Agent Curt Mega too. Sigh.

So, going off of the last big one, if Owen is born in 1928, then I'm gonna say Curt was born in 1930. I'm forever won to the Texan agent mega headcanon, but I think it's safe to say that Mrs. Mega is not from Texas, probably more like New York or I've seen people say New Jersey.

We know nothing about Agent Mega's dad, but I imagine he was kind of a loser and low level con artist and moved his pregnant wife down to Texas to do scams around the bustling oil industry, and then soon after Curt was born a scam collapsed and he ran off. It's either that or an Aladdin 3 situation where he was secretly a spy the whole time and had to go into hiding.

So we've got mama Mega, raising a VERY hyperactive (read: ADHD) little boy on her own, in a place where she doesn't have any support, and he just becomes her entire world. But she has to work a lot, so Curt becomes used to taking care of himself, and most importantly- keeping himself busy so he doesn't lose it.

In this headcanon Curt would only be 15 when WWII ends- not old enough to fight, but definitely old enough to have personally known a lot of kids from his hometown who come home in caskets. I just truly think of WWII as a formative experience for both these guys. For Curt it just feeds into that inferiority complex.

Now anybody who has ADHD knows that you already spend a lot of your life feeling inadequate, feeling self-conscious about not being able to be the person other people want you to be (*especially* if you're queer). You get defensive, especially when criticized. You also get restless.

I headcanon Curt as growing up in Abilene, Texas, mostly because I have a friend who grew up there and I've visited and the vibe is right.

I don't know if anybody has ever seen The Last Picture Show, but its a film set in small town Texas in 1951-1952 (so a little late for our timeline but still) and it's (more or less) about two high school seniors essentially trying to escape this suffocatingly small, dying town before they become doomed to spend their lives trapped there.

That's definitely what I think about Agent Mega too- this gay, ADHD teenage boy climbing the walls of this little town, never being able to fully be himself. But he's got a lot of energy (and more than a little anger) to burn off, so he does sports. It's Texas, so football for sure. Maybe wrestling too. Perhaps wrestling is even where he has his gay come to jesus moment.

And when he isn't doing sports, he's home, alone (mama Mega is working so hard), out back drinking a beer (or two, or three) and teaching himself how to shoot. I think he becomes hyperfixated on becoming an expert marksman, because with all of this shit he cannot control, all the stuff he is supposed to be but isn't, this is one area where it feels like he has the power here.

What starts off as "kid drinking beer to feel cool and rebellious" starts to morph into a lifetime dependence on alcohol. Substance use is a big issue for a lot of ADHDers for the same reason I think it would be for Curt- it calms him down. It eases that constant restlessness in his bones. It softens the edges of other people's criticisms of him. It makes him care a bit less what others think about him.

In a vicious cycle, he drinks to avoid feeling those big feelings (especially as a man, especially as a gay man, especially as a gay man in Texas), but the drinking leads to more criticism, which leads to more drinking to numb the emotional response to that criticism.

But his hyperfixation on learning to shoot pays off. Let's say he becomes a junior state champion trapshooter (did I look up trapshooting competitions from the 1940s? yes I did). He's good, especially when he hits the sweet spot of drinking just enough to calm his ass down but not so much that he's useless. Maybe this is how he comes to the attention of the A.S.S.

And he fully believes that these skills he cultivated, the ability to hit hard and run fast and shoot accurately, his ability to escape when it doesn't feel remotely possible, is why many years later he just kinda rolls his eyes at Owen for insisting that they do things carefully and methodically. Careful didn't get him out of small town Texas. Careful didn't get him the exciting non-stop life he has now, a life where he *almost* gets to be himself a lot of the time.

When Owen "dies," and its Curt's fault, he naturally turns to drinking to numb that pain. But its a lot of pain, so it takes a lot of alcohol to kill it.

I'm sure I could go on, but as always I have rambled a lot here so I'm just gonna leave it.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I want to ask your opinion on the scene in Queen Banana where Zoe tells Chloe that she loves her and will stay by her side even when everyone will hate her as she's giving her the Magical Charm in order to prevent her from being further akumatized (which failed in the long run lol), do you think Zoe lied about her feelings towards her half sister just to manipulate her into doing what she wants ? Cause that's the implication this scene is giving now considering that Zoe rejoiced with everyone else in Revolution when Chloe essentially got exiled from Paris alongside their mother.

Also more importantly do you think the writers wanted us to believe that Zoe never actually loved Chloe and only told her that she did cause it was easier to manipulate her that way or it's just bad writing that it come across that way ?

I wouldn't read too hard into Zoé's actions here as she was just quoting her lines from the movie she was staring in that episode, which makes this feel like less of a thought-out action and more like improv that you shouldn't read into in almost any story.

Movie scene:

Mylène (Destroika): You're just like them, I hate you! (Falls to try floor.) Zoé (Kreatika): You may hate me, but I love you, (kneels) and I always will, even if the whole world hates you, (places hand on Mylène/Destroika's) sister. (Mylène/Destroika looks up, and the two hug each other as the class/citizens cheer. The audience applauds.)

Chloé scene:

Chloé: (shaking with anger) Don't call her that. She's not even half of a sister, she's nothing to me! I— (turns to Zoé) I hate you! Zoé: (places hands on Chloé's shoulders) You may hate me, but I love you, and I always will, even if the whole world hates you, sister. (she hugs Chloé) Remember? We have the same mother! Look, she even gave me this gift. (reaches out the Magical Charm) Chloé: If it comes from mom, then I'm the one who gets to wear it. Give it to me! (the akuma flies into the building)

Generally speaking, I'm not sure if we're supposed to believe that Zoé loves Chloé or hates Chloé or has any deeper feelings about Chloé at all. The sisters barely ever interact in canon and it's implied that they were raised on different continents, so there's no background reason for Zoé to feel any particular way about her half sister.

While I'm not much of a Zoé fan, her actions here are hard to meaningfully criticize both because they're spur-of-the-moment and because Chloé has no reaction to the love claim. She only reacts to the claim that the charm came from their mother, leading her to steal the charm (as far as she knows). That makes it hard to see the love claim as manipulative, intentional or otherwise.

The manipulation comes from the lie about the charm's origin, but seeing as the charm immediately keeps Chloé from being akumatized yet again, it's really hard to say that Zoé shouldn't have done what she did. My criticism here is much more focused on the writing which has basically decided that Chloé is a terrorist supporter now, which is the only reason the manipulation even happened:

Ladybug: This Magical Charm can help Chloé escape Shadow Moth's influence, but I can't force her to wear it. Vesperia:(holds Ladybug's hands) I know how to do it.

So, sure, lie to Chloé if it keeps her from accepting more akumas, I guess?

It's so hard for me to take anything about Chloé's writing seriously in the later seasons. No matter how she feels about Ladybug, I have a really hard time believing that she'd want to be akumatized after it had caused her so much trouble in the past. Lila does it for a goal, so that does make sense, but Chloe has no real goal. She just likes letting this total stranger have power over her because she's that petty, I guess? But if that's what they're going with, then you'd think that she'd blame Gabriel for Miracle Queen just as much as she blames Ladybug. That would make Chloé nuanced and realistic, though, so we can't have that.

It's such absurd characterization that it shatters my suspension of disbelief every time. Chloé is so one-dimensional now that I just go, "sure, why not. Have her do that, too" when she does some new evil. Zoé has similar issues, just on the opposite side where she has no meaningful flaws. It really does feel like Chloé was split into two, extremely-lesser versions of herself. Nice, bland Chloé who loves everyone and evil, terrorist-supporting Chloé who loves no one.

[indigosabyss]

Meanwhile, With Tommy... (+A Ms Marvel Show Tie-in)

He was Thomas Shepherd. All the documents said he was Thomas Shepherd, so he had to be.

But then why did that last name sit so wrong? What was it supposed to be? It was on the tip of his tongue, if he just concentrated a little harder-

The guy in the cell next to him rammed into the wall separating them with a scream loud enough to break Tommy's concentration. Fucking asshole.

Guess it didn't matter what he was or wasn't, anyway. He was still going to be stuck in this godforsaken place.

Tommy didn't want to say he hadn't done anything to deserve being put here. They found him in the epicenter of a massive explosion, as the sole survivor, with no memories whatsoever. Yeah, people were going to have questions.

It just so happened that Tommy didn't have answers to those questions, because he had no memories whatsoever.

The cops seemed to get this eventually, and he'd been... Wherever this was.

The wrong place. Tommy was sure of it. He wasn't meant to be here.

Where was he meant to be?

Well, there was this tug that he carried with him. His own personal compass, like an invisible thread yanking him to a place he was unable to go. Not with these bars in the way. And especially the cuffs.

He was hella fast, it turned out. And not the fun kind of fast. The type of fast that made things blow up. The type of fast that society didn't need.

The knock against the wall this time was more intentional. There was something about the force behind it that clued Tommy in. Other guy had real anger management issues. The stabby type, apparently.

But since his tantrum had abated, Tommy knocked back.

Other Guy had snuck Tommy a code to a knock cipher, before the guards realized his shiny crystal things could sneak through the bars on the cell door's window and barred it. It was tedious as fuck, but also the only conversation he ever got that didn't involve also being electrocuted and following instructions like a lab rat.

I've been disguising my advancing control, Other Guy reported. And then, seemingly unrelated: Note that we seem to be the only ones here?

What about it? he responded, having noticed that too. Seemed that superpowered people that have been deemed public menaces but not bad enough for the Raft were in short supply.

There'd been a bunch more. Triple the current population, which wasn't much. They were from Other Guy's party, if he was remembering the gossip right. Escaped and left him bleeding out on the stairs.

The next series of taps took a long time to finish.

It wouldn't feel right, leaving anyone behind. But if you're sure it's just you and me, then I think we can try a break for freedom. Not sure where we would go, though.

Freedom? Tommy didn't even remember what that was supposed to look like. But the feeling tugging in his gut flared, and the direction remained constant, no matter which room he was moved to, or where he faced. Everything went back to that one point.

I think I know a place, he finally told Other Guy

------

When they punched through the outer wall, they were met with dirt. Other Guy was thinking things through, as he activated his turquoise crystals to burrow through the ground into a perfect tunnel.

"Great, now let's get out, out, out!" Tommy grabbed him by the shoulder and slipped into superspeed.

They were laughing hysterically when the tunnel finally came out onto an honest-to-god meadow, with sunlight streaming in, and no walls in sight. Just fences, a house a little ways away.

"So, where's this place you had in mind?" Other Guy asked.

"Uhh... straight shot this way," Tommy recalibrated himself to his own true North. "Gonna be a bit of a walk."

"About time I got to stretch my legs," Other Guy shrugged, strolling in the direction Tommy had pointed out.

They were walking shoulder to shoulder ffor several minutes when Other Guy smacked his forehead, "I completely forgot to introduce myself! And after all the time we've known each other. I'm Kamran."

"Tommy..." he took his proferred hand, and the word dangling on the tip of his tongue finally came loose. "Maximoff."

[Based off my prediction that the DODC detainment facility the Clandestines were kept in is where Tommy is being kept like in the comics. Sequel ficlet incoming of these two showing up at the Kaplan house while Billy is doing his part in AAA]

Part 2

[tellmealovestory]

Apple Cider

Summary: First dates are supposed to be fun. So why's this one such a disaster?

Warnings: 3k words of second hand embarrassment and an awkward reader and Eddie.

Spooktober Masterlist

“You’re being a dingus. Ask her out already or I will,” Robin threatens as she flips through a magazine she’s barely interested in, but it’s better than watching you and Eddie steal glances at each other across the store. 

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, head hanging in his hands as he sighs. “Not that simple. She could say no. She could already have a boyfriend. She could think-”

“That you're a creep coming in here every day staring at her and not saying a word to her?” Robin asks unhelpfully as she glances up from her magazine just long enough to catch the glare Eddie is giving her. 

Halfway across the store as you’re trying to help a nasally voiced man pick out a selection of movies you can hear their conversation. Neither one of them understands the definition of indoor voices or private conversations and if you weren’t so polite or so afraid of talking to Eddie for fear of making an idiot out of yourself you’d tell them to shut up. 

This is a place of work after all. Sure, the store is empty save for the four of you, but that’s not the point. Your lack of a dating life isn’t up for discussion in front of strangers or your crush. 

“I guess this will do,” the man says as if he’s disappointed you couldn’t be more help trying to find a movie that was scary, but not too scary, but that had a little bit of gore, but not so much gore it would make his date queasy, but it also had to be recent, nothing old or black and white. 

While he carries his selections up to the counter and Robin checks out the movies for him you pretend to busy yourself with straightening the vhs cases while occasionally glancing over at Eddie still hanging around the counter.

The bell over the door rings signaling his exit and when no one else comes in Robin calls you over. Your throat is drier than sandpaper and your feet feel like they’re encased in blocks of cement as you slowly make your way to the counter. 

“Dingus here wants to ask you, but he’s too scared to, so I'm doing it for him.”

“Robin,” Eddie seethes with anger as your own voice melds with him chastising her for this inappropriate behavior. 

“What?” she asks, not having the gall to look the slightest bit embarrassed despite Eddie’s pink cheeks and your refusal to look at either of them instead choosing to stare down at your shoes which suddenly look interesting to you. “Eddie the dingus here will pick you up tomorrow after your shift. You guys can go to the fall carnival and I don’t know trying talking to each other for once.”

“Robin,” you start, voice shaking as you dare a few peeks at Eddie through your lashes. He looks just as mortified as you do at this new development. “You can’t just… you can’t do something like that.” 

Eddie’s heart sinks to his stomach when he catches you flinching and he naturally assumes it’s because you don’t actually like him because after all why would the town sweetheart go for someone like the town freak? 

Robin waves away your concerns, shoos Eddie out the door, but not before yelling at him what time your shift is over. 

He stays on your mind for the rest of the day and night and even into the next day. When your shift ends and he still hasn’t arrived to pick you up for the date Robin arranged you figure he’s not showing. A mix of disappointment and anger settle in the pit of your stomach and as you slip your vest off and grab your purse beneath the counter the bell over the door jingles and Robin is whistling lowly. 

You figure it’s just Steve so you don’t bother to look up as you root around for your car keys. She nudges you and says in a too loud whisper because she still doesn’t know what indoor voices mean, “loverboy is here.” 

You glance up and true to her word there stands Eddie, hands shoved deep in his pockets, black tee shirt and jean jacket on, unruly hair pulled back into a low bun, cheeks flushed and sheepish smile on his face.

Instantly, you regret cursing him out in your mind for thinking he wasn’t going to show. Sure, he was a little late, but he did show up and now that he’s here, standing on the other side of the counter watching you it’s like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve ever known. 

Robin leans her elbow on the counter watching you too and she can’t help but shove you towards him. Her push is harder and you stumble, having to catch yourself on the counter so you don’t stumble into him like a bowling ball hitting a set of pins. 

“Have fun you two!” She shouts, “and remember, talk to each other!” 

Once outside in the warm sunshine you finally find the words to speak, but when you do your voice is soft and you’re worried he can’t hear you. “I’m so sorry about her. We don’t have to do this. Go to the carnival. Or even out. I mean… I know she kind of pushed you into this…” 

“No,” he says quickly, finally pulling his hands out of his pockets. He plays with his keys, jingling them as the silver glints in the bright sunshine. “I want to. Less you don’t want to.” 

“No!” Your shout of no is even quicker and louder than his and you duck your head down in embarrassment before repeating the word again, softer this time while assuring him you want this. Turning your head to the side and over your shoulder you see Robin joined with Steve now standing at the  window of Family Video mouthing what you think are the words ‘go’ and ‘talk’ while Robin points to the van and Steve is making kissing faces.

Eddie smiles and it helps to ease a little bit of your nerves of whatever this is, a first date, a hang out, a friendly trip to the fall carnival. “You uh wanna go then?” He lifts the keys up and jingles them again and when you nod your head you’re surprised to find him opening the passenger door van for you. It’s such a simple and kind gesture, but it sends your heart galloping and your feelings for him to intensify. 

He slides into the van and starts it up and your ears nearly burst with how loud he has the music playing. “Shit, shit, shit, sorry, I know it’s loud,” he mutters as if he can read your mind. His long fingers are fumbling over the buttons on the stereo and instead of turning the volume knob down he cranks it up even louder as the banging of drums and cymbals clashes like you’re sitting front row at a metal concert. “Fuck.” He jabs the on/off button and you’re plunged into total silence save for the sound of his heavy breathing.

He offers another apology as he scrubs a hand over his face and mutters, “maybe we’ll just keep that off, yeah?” 

You giggle and tell him sure because truthfully his music taste isn’t the same as yours and you’re hoping that in the silence you can take Robin’s advice and talk.

But the drive to the festival is silent save for a few curses from Eddie when someone cuts him off in traffic and then again when he takes a wrong turn to the grounds and ends up on a muddy road that he nearly gets the vans tires stuck in. 

Once he manages to get where he’s supposed to and parks he opens your door again and your heart picks back up that happy rhythm it had when he did it the first time.

Beginning a leisurely stroll towards the entrance gate there’s enough space between your bodies to have another couple standing between you. For the life of you you aren’t sure how close you’re supposed to stand to him and something so simple that most people don’t think about shouldn’t be stressing you out this much. Stand close enough to hold hands? To have his jean jacket rubbing against your soft sweater? To have his arm slung around your shoulders? Why is it so complicated? 

While your mind is turning over that question your other senses become overwhelmed when you enter the festival grounds. Screams are emitted from some of the carnival rides, couples and families walk around with oversized teddy bears in their arms, kids run around playing tag. And the smells. Oh, the smells are enough to make your mouth water and your stomach to grumble.

Corn on the cob is being sizzled to perfection on grills. Cinnamon and apples and every deep fried food imaginable is being cooked to perfection from red and white striped tents. Hamburgers and brats are being served to hungry customers and you even smell what you think are greasy onion rings and french fries.

There’s a little something for everyone here. 

Booths with lines around the corner for face paintings and a fortune teller, a big wooden barrel where a few people are bobbing for apples, balloon dart games, even a few businesses handing out cards and offering promotions. 

“Have you ever been here before?” you ask, eyes scanning and trying to take everything in.

“Naw. Not really my scene,” he says with a simple shrug of his shoulders, but when he sees your face fall he silently curses himself for saying something so stupid. “But uh I’m glad to be here with you.” 

It sounds forced to your ears and you’re about to tell him that you can leave, go find something else to do or maybe just call this a day because nothing seems to be working out. 

Instead of doing that though you continue the walk through checking out the booths and the rides and because it’s more crowded here than in the parking lot you’re both forced a little closer together. Each time his arm or elbow or leg brushes up against yours you get a little jolt of electricity that you try to tamp down because you’re still not sure if he even likes you or wants to be here with you. 

A group of rowdy kids screams red rover as they barrel into you causing you to stumble and nearly trip a few feet in front of Eddie. Not your finest move, but at least you didn’t fall flat on your face. 

He touches your shoulder gently and when you turn around his eyes are wide, cheeks flushed a little deeper pink, reminiscent of a gorgeous summer sunset and when he drops his hand he starts gesturing to your body. You glance down and don’t see any dirt or food on the front of your skirt and sweater, but his hand gestures are growing more urgent, lowering down and you still have no clue what he’s trying to tell you. 

“You uh… those kids…” he swallows thickly before just blurting it out. “You’ve got some cotton candy uh behind you.” 

It takes your brain a few seconds to figure out what he’s trying to tell you, but when you slide your hands down your lower back and to your butt your fingers come away with sticky pastel cotton candy. “Oh my god,” you whisper as your cheeks heat up and you frantically try to push it all away, but it’s so much stickier than when you remember as a kid and it seems like with each sweep of your fingers and hands all you’re doing is creating a bigger mess.

You don’t want to, but you slowly turn around so your back is to him and glance over your shoulder. “Is it all gone?” 

His knitted eyebrows and mouth turn down into a frown that tells you no, not exactly. 

“Can I uh? Do you mind?” Again with the hand gestures. His silver rings glint in the sunshine and you nod your head. The first touch of his hands against your lower ass makes you jump and flinch and he steps back, hands in the air in surrender and once again you’re feeling stupid and naive. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you say quickly, head hanging down, wondering if you should tell him this is your first date and you’ve barely even kissed a guy so it’s just a little strange for one to be brushing your ass. 

There’s a food vendor a few feet away and you stomp over to grab probably more napkins than you need as you try to rub at the sticky mess, but you’re only spreading it wider and you’re close to tears because seriously how much worse can this day get before you shove a wad in his hands. “Can you help, please?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just uh, hold still, kay?” This time you’re more prepared for his touches. They’re gentle, methodical and though it’s not perfect he’s managed to pick off most of the cotton candy. With your back still turned to him you quickly wipe at your eyes as he tosses the napkins in the garbage. 

You resume your walking in silence with a few stolen glances here and there, a few times you both get jostled together by impatient people frustrated at your slow pace. 

Stopping in front of a drink tent your mouth waters when you inhale the spice of cinnamon and apples. Reaching in your purse for your wallet Eddie beats you to it, grabbing his own as he pays for two cups of piping hot cider. 

“You didn’t have to-” 

“I don’t mind-”

You’re both trying to talk over one another and it’s not working and so you give up, choosing instead to offer him a small smile as thank you. 

The paper cup is hot against your palms, but it still feels nice against the slight chill that’s entered the air. There’s an empty bench up ahead and Eddie nods his head towards it and you agree. Glancing down at the seat to make sure there’s nothing else that can be spilled on your outfit you perch on the edge, blow on the cider before taking a slow sip as you let out a quiet moan. 

Eddie nearly chokes on his own sip when he hears you because he was not expecting that to come out of your mouth and now that he has he can’t stop staring at you and jesus Robin was right he’s being a downright creep. It’s a miracle you agreed to this set up. 

For a few moments you both bask in each other's company and in the festivities that are going on around you, but it doesn’t take long for even this peaceful moment to be broken by the buzzing of a wasp. 

“Shit,” Eddie mutters. He’s not scared of too many things, but wasps? Fuck those devil monsters. He swats it away, but it’s still buzzing around first by his cup of apple cider and then closer to yours. You don’t notice it and when you lift the cup up to your mouth he acts first, thinks later. 

His large hand swats the cup out of your hand, still hot cider splashing down around by your feet, the cup yards away from you. You’re shocked, mouth hanging open, eyes blinking dumbly at him and as if to somehow make up for what he just did or because he’s an awkward idiot who’s hopeless around pretty girls he also throws his cup to the ground. 

The wasp that had been buzzing around you both is now distracted by the spilled sugary drink and it’s then that you notice it, but that still doesn’t explain his behavior and the silence is stretching on and oh my god how much worse could this date get? 

“Sorry,” he mutters and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed for tossing your drinks to the ground. “Wasps scare the shit out of me.” He ends it with a little chuckle and despite how awful the day has been you’re soon joining in and giggling with him as you hang your head in your hands. 

“They scare me too,” you admit softly before adding, “I didn’t even see it. Or hear it. And to think I almost drank it!” You give a little shudder at just how close that thing was to your mouth and sure, maybe it was a little dramatic the way Eddie chose to deal with it, but given the way your day has been going it fits in. 

“Naw, I’d never have let you drink it,” he says, giving you a lopsided smile and for a few seconds you think maybe this could be salvaged, but when the damn demon wasp finishes with the spilled cider it makes another go at the two of you and Eddie is quick to jump up with you following his lead as you make another loop around the carnival grounds.

Tugging at the sleeve of your sweater you sigh and glance at him. “Maybe that’s a sign we should cut this date short.” You don’t want to, but nothing seems to be going right and as your words hang in the air you realize what you just said and you’re staring at him with an open mouth and wide eyes as you try to clarify. “Not that… I mean I’m not sure this was even a date? I know it was kind of forced on us and I guess I always thought that a first date was supposed to be nice and not one disaster after another. It’s been memorable though.”

“I’d call it a date,” he says, giving you an easy smile. “Right? Always hoped I’d be more smooth with the ladies, but I guess that didn’t happen today.” He looks so different now, shoulders relaxed, another smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You were a complete gentleman, Eddie.” 

“Even when I was touching your a-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish that sentence as your cheeks burn hot and you giggle. “Yes, even then.” 

A few more minutes pass with a silence that’s not nearly as awkward as it was at the beginning of the day. And this time when he speaks you can practically hear the smile in his voice. 

“So we both agree this was a date?” He doesn’t give you time to stumble and stutter or apologize your way through a response before he’s talking again, this time it’s a little slower and the smile isn’t as prominent in his words. “That mean you, uh maybe wanna try this again another time?” 

Your heart swells and balloons and you can’t keep the smile off your face no matter how hard you try and you don’t want to appear too eager and scare him off, but if nothing about today has scared him off you don’t think this will either as you all but shout out a yes please. 

Eddie can’t quite believe his ears when you agree so quickly and he wants to pinch himself because there’s a part of him that still believes after the disaster of today you’d want a redo, but the smile on your face and your bright eyes indicate otherwise. His fingers inch a little closer to yours in front of the merry go round, but he doesn’t try to grab your hand, not yet at least, instead he lets his fingers rest next to yours as you both watch the happy couples and families enjoy the fair while he plots out what he hopes is a better second date. 

A/N: If you enjoyed reading about these two they'll be back in Hayride!

[duchess-kyuupid]

Not quite an X Reader request, but a fun little prompt: In the place of Yuu is a TWST version of Little Ghost from Hollow Knight. Everyone thinks the kid's some random five year old fae that got swiped up by accident and is mostly babysat by the staff, but that doesn't stop some students from trying to bully the baby.

However, the baby in question is very good at hiding knives on their person and is secretly a master swordsman, and one day stabs a bully in the leg for shoving them, right in front of the bully's dorm leader.

Question: How do the dorm leaders react in this situation?

Okay uhh... I haven't written anything for a long time I know, but this I feel like I absolutely HAVE to do. Hopefully Silksong comes soon...right?

« Little Ghost gets into a Little Fight™ in Twisted Wonderland »

[TWST x Hollow Knight, Platonic affection, Ghost is slightly taller than Grim, not an x reader, the bullies are from each respective dorm (like Riddle's bullies are from Heartslabyul, etc.)]

So this whole conundrum started when Little Ghost found their favorite dorm leader in the halls in between classes. In their little scurry to reach them, they had to bypass a couple other students who were also in the hallway. One such student, with their small group of friends, intended to punt them and disguise it as a mere "shove."

"Better watch where you're going, shorty- us tall people can't see you from all the way up here when- OW! God damn it, what the hell?"

Little Ghost hides away their sharpened nail within the cover of their cloak, as if it was never there to begin with. They look up to the bully, pure malice filling the void of its blank, unblinking eyes. The bully's friends decide it was probably best to take the bully to the nurse and apologize on their behalf because, just look at his leg, it's bleeding! And, oh god, how big is that hole in his foot? What even is this weird shadow stuff? Best to just apologize and get out of there while they still could...

~Riddle~

Riddle witnesses the whole thing from the very moment that the Little Ghost saw him to begin with. Yet, the bullies left so quick that he didn't get a chance to collar them for their blatant disregard for the lives of innocent creatures. And almost immediately after the bullies left, the knight headed straight towards Riddle.

He was angry at first, at how the bullies so flagrantly disobeyed Rule #75: Never kick any creature with your left foot on Thursdays. But rather, he ended up feeling more concerned over the safety of the knight than anything else.

He took a moment to make sure the knight was feeling okay before going off into great detail about how it's against school policy to carry and conceal any weapon that isn't a wand on campus. Granted, he momentarily stops himself mid-sentence during his rant about this, since technically Little Ghost isn't even a student at NRC, so perhaps those rules don't apply to them? Hmm... An interesting counterargument indeed...

Ghost merely stares blankly back with little reaction to the scolding from Riddle. He sighs and decides to say nothing else about the knight's hidden weapons because, ultimately, Riddle is just happy that he won't have to worry so much about the little guy getting hurt with the knowledge that they can protect themselves if they need to.

"Well," Riddle supposes, "I guess I can let it go just this once. But just make sure that you don't go around stirring up even more trouble. Just let me know if anyone else decides to bother you, and I shall make sure to deal with them properly. Still, I need to go make sure those other ruffians don't make the same mistake twice about breaking the Queen's rules."

Riddle leans down a bit and pats the top of the knight's head with endearment in his eyes before walking away towards the nurse's office, an obvious glare of anger in his stride as he walked.

And the Little Ghost, left all alone in the hallway, looks down to their little hand, holding onto their precious charm: Fury of the Fallen.

Ah, another time then... they think.

~Leona~

Leona catches the whole thing and laughs about it as he watches the bullies scurry away in fear. He'd be dead before he admits it out loud, but Leona was actually just about to step in for the Little Ghost. True, he was pretending that he didn't see them as they were trying to approach him in the hallway, but he's always trying to look out for Little Ghost, whether on purpose or not.

Anyway, his laugh was more like a snide snicker, filled with mocking amusement. It was almost ironic how those beastmen could be so frightened by such a small little mouse, and hearing them squeal like babies was almost like music to his ears.

Leona smiles wider when Ghost finally approaches him after the incident, and he dips down to give them a little pat on the head.

"Nice job there, runt. That's what they get for messing with the wrong pack."

However, Leona's caught by surprise when the Ghost takes his hand from their head and places something in it. It felt cold- metallic maybe?- in his hand, and he takes a look at the gift Ghost had given to him. A... brooch? Ehh... The thought is nice but he's not exactly a jewelry kinda guy, you know?

Oh wait, and there's a note on it too.

'Mark of Pride. To my favorite pack leader.'

The next day, almost all of the Savanaclaw residents took notice of the new brooch their leader started wearing around.

~Azul~

Well, those bullies did have it coming to them, to be fair. Azul is in equal parts surprised and not surprised at those turn of events. On one hand, he's not surprised that Ghost had a little something up their sleeves on how to protect themselves, but on the other hand, he just didn't expect it to be...that.

Like, you'd think that you wouldn't be able to do a lot of damage with just a comically sized nail, but apparently, it was enough to scare even Octavinelle students away. And what was with that shadow magic? He's never seen anyone use anything remotely similar- not even cosmic magic came close to what the Ghost wielded in tandem with their nail just now.

My, he's just reminded of how the land has so many things to learn and many more to gain from. Azul approaches Ghost after the bullies leave with a smile on his face. Whether the smile is from his eagerness for a new deal, his relief that Ghost is safe, or even a combination of the two- not even Azul knows.

"That was spectacular, Little Ghost! You really showed them what's what!"

And Ghost just looks back up at him with his eyes, devoid of any sort of emotion. Most people have become quite frightened of Ghost by now, and it feels like Azul is the only person who ever looks them directly in the eyes. After all, after spending basically your entire life at the bottom of the ocean, peering into the darkness is nothing new for someone like Azul.

For this reason, while Azul was talking his mouth off at the prospect of learning about Ghost's void magic, Ghost reaches into their cloak and pulls out a charm, picked out specifically for Azul.

Ghost stands on their toes and stretches out their arms to offer their one and only charm of Unbreakable Greed to Azul, and he receives it gracefully with a polite thank you and a semi-surprised expression.

"It's remarkably shiny. Beautiful even. Thank you, Ghost." Ghost quickly finds a pen and paper to write on for a quick note to Azul before he starts getting any ideas.

'Don't sell this one. It's supposed to bring you more money.'

~Kalim~

He was too carried away in talking off Jamil's ears, so much so that he never even noticed the kerfuffle until the bullies started making a fuss.

"NO! GHOST, STOP IT. That's mean!" He scolds ghost as if they were a cat, and he didn't even realize that it was out of self defense. He picks up ghost and cuddles him close to his chest and tries to apologize to the bully for the inconvenience.

Meanwhile, the bully just screams out about how the ghost is a devil in disguise- a monster. Kalim doesn't believe them as the ghost just looks back up to him with (seemingly) innocent doe eyes.

"Well if you were being mean like that to them then its no wonder why they hurt you!" And by that point, the bullies had already started to run off, frightened of getting on the wrong side of an Al-Asim as well as...whatever Ghost is- monster or devil.

"You didn't get hurt did you, little guy?" Kalim asks worriedly, and Ghost merely shakes his head no. With a sigh of relief, Kalim smiles and continues walking through the hallway with Ghost still in tow within his arms.

This was probably the most perfect time for Ghost to offer their gift to him, so from their pocket they take out their Hiveblood charm.

And Jamil has to stop Kalim from crying on the spot when the Ghost attaches the charm onto his cardigan. Ghost doesn't even need to explain what it does- Kalim will probably wear it every day anyway.

~Vil~

Vil sees what happens and also laughs for a second as he watched the bullies run away from the scene. Though, he was a bit disappointed, in a way. Those bullies were the ones who started it, and yet they didn't even have the courage to finish it? Not only that, but they didn't even look the least bit graceful in their bullying tactics. How shameful. He ought to scold them for bringing such disgusting habits into the Pomefiore lifestyle.

But, Vil decided, they were very much beyond his recognition right now. As Housewarden, he can probably set them up with a punishment befitting their actions later, but right now, Vil notices the Little Ghost approaching him with a sort of glee in their steps.

"Hello there, Little Ghost. You weren't hurt, I hope?" And Ghost shakes their head no before reaching into their pocket to pull something out from under their cloak.

Immediately, the hallway fills up with a strong stench in the air that seemingly came from nowhere. But, Vil knew better. After all, he can practically see the fumes radiating off of whatever the Ghost had in their hand. What confused him though, was why it only started smelling when the Ghost took it out from their cloak if they had it this whole time...

The Ghost reaches out their hand to offer their Defender's Crest to Vil, but he looks at it in disgust and pinches his nose so he wouldn't have to smell it. (Alas, this tactic did not help whatsoever, as now he was forced to almost taste the smell as the fumes visibly wafted into his face.) Still, he tried his best to decline the offer as politely as he could... In classic Vil fashion, of course.

"If you plan on giving me that, then forget about it and keep it for yourself. It's disguising and revolting. I'd probably catch 10 different diseases if I so much as touch that thing." Reminder, this was Vil trying to politely refuse the gift.

He almost felt bad about what he said once he sees the way that the Ghost lowers their arms and looks down sadly. Keyword: almost. While their eyes held nothing but emptiness, you could almost feel the small amount of sadness coming from them as they took a moment to think. To be honest, Vil was mere seconds away from reaching for his handkerchief to begrudgingly accept this...lovely gift before the Ghost puts it back into their cloak and pulls out something else instead. It was their charm of Deep Focus, and the beautiful purple gemstones on it shimmered gloriously under the lights in the hallway.

"That's much better," Vil smiles in acceptance and graciously takes the new gift, "And rather beautiful too. Thank you, Ghost."

Ghost was at least happy that Vil liked this one since it was pretty. To be honest though, they were still pretty hurt that Vil would call it disguisting... Ghost can't smell anything, so how were they supposed to know that Vil wouldn't like it?

At least, now it means that they can keep their memento from one of their best friends from their own world.

'I won't ever forget you, Dung Defender. Not even if I lose your Crest.'

~Idia~

Please don't blame him for not stepping in. He doesn't do too well with fights- or just drawing any sort of attention to himself. But! At least when the squabble was over, Idia stood in place and waited for the knight to come to him like they initially wanted. Usually, once Idia sees someone- anyone, really, with the exception of his brother- approaching him, he'll take any sort of excuse to get out of there to avoid confrontation.

Lucky for him, the Little Ghost can't speak. Or perhaps, they choose not to. Either way, it makes it a lot easier for Idia to hang out with the Ghost when he knows he's not going to be expected to answer any random questioning or have to actively participate in conversation.

It's gotten to the point where Idia and Ghost can communicate with each other without making any sort of sounds at all. It's kinda creepy to the other students at the college though... I mean, how can you tell what Little Ghost is thinking when they've never spoken, when their mask is immovable, and when their eyes hold nothing but empty void in them?

Ortho would just tell those people off for him though, because it's in those eyes of theirs that they can understand each other so clearly. Can't you see how much expression Ghost has? Just look at those eyes! [Its complete and utter darkness.] But...to be honest... Ortho doesn't understand it either. Idia supposes he might need to improve Ortho's emotional reading modules...

Going back on topic, Ghost approaches Idia in the hallway and their creepy nonverbal conversation began.

'Are you hurt?' 'No.' 'Good. I can dox them later if you want. Wanna play some games with me later?' 'Yes. I have something for you.' 'Let's see it then.'

Ghost pulls out from their cloak their most precious charm they own: Wayward Compass. Idia's gamer instincts can tell how much latent immense power that is stored in this innocuous brooch, and he accepts it gladly.

Later that day, Idia asks Ortho to scan the object to see what kind of power lays behind this brooch.

"It just shows you where you are on any map."

"Like a GPS?" Ortho nods.

"Oh."

~Malleus~

He's quite pleased actually. He, as well as most of Diasomnia (being the fae that they are), knows the ghost isn't quite a fae, but isn't quite human either, so even he's at a loss for what kind of being the ghost really is. And this mystery makes it all the more easy for Ghost to become the target of bullying, and thus all the more easy for Malleus to become super protective over little ghost. Ultimately, Malleus is glad to see that they were not hurt in the fight.

After all, from the moment when they first met and he looked into it's eyes, he could sense that same sort of empty loneliness within as he does within himself. The Ghost isn't scared of him either, so naturally it seemed that they've become good friends, even if neither party are prone to speaking very much- if at all.

As the Ghost approaches Malleus in the hallway after the fight, he pets the top of their head and wonders to himself- what sort of material is this mask thing made of? Bone? Or is it a type of exoskeleton? Is it made from ceramic or glass? Or perhaps a strange type of wood? Maybe it's made from a material that's only exclusive to the world that Ghost is from.

Lost in his own thoughts, Malleus continued to pat Ghost's head endearingly, and he didn't notice that Ghost was holding something out for him until Ghost takes his hand off of their head and instead wrap his fingers around the stem of a precious white flower. It looked delicate, like it could break apart and fly away at any moment.

And yet, it was such a beautiful flower.

"Is this... for me?" he asks, to which Ghost responds with a nod.

To be honest, the knight would have been completely infuriated if those bullies had managed to break the delicate flower from their home world. They would not have gotten away with the measly scrapes that they did. There was only one of these flowers, and I mean, sure- it was supposed to be for someone else, but the knight got transported here before they could even bring it to Elderbug. Truly though, it was a miracle that the flower had managed to last this long without being broken.

Meanwhile, Malleus gets lost in his thoughts again for a second after realizing that this was the first gift he'd ever gotten from someone he considered as a friend. A kindred soul. He must take great care to protect both the flower and this little creature that is neither fae, human, nor monster- but a friend.

He takes extremely good care of the flower. It might even become one of his favorite items, next to his precious Tamagotchi game, and he places it in an enchanted vase to protect it for as long as he can.

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POV: you're an aspid who broke the delicate flower