#i played ever new level and i need them to do the same

[for-stories-maybe]

So, this idea hasn't left me for *looking at the clock* at least four weeks. This is my first post of this kind and length, so bear with me for a bit, I need to get this out of my head so someone can write fanfic about it if I never get to reaction/animation. (Disclaimer. I've only been in Xianxia recently, and I know even less about China and traditions, so feel free to point out if I'm messing up somewhere)

Crossovers are fun, aren't they? I've been stuck on genshin for 3 years now and I mix it with everything I can get my hands on. Of course, having become familiar with svsss, my brain could not miss the opportunity.

I present to your attention!

Archons (+Neuvillette) in SVSSS!

I will focus on one specific version of this idea, but if you want, I can make a post about different variations later.

The point is simple and obvious, the 7 Archons + Focalors and Neuvillette enter the world of SVSSS during the childhood of the Qing generation, about 10-15 years before Luo Binghe was born (I'm not sure if the exact age of the characters has ever been mentioned, so this is my best guess). Isekai could be the fault of the System, but I like the idea that the Archons fix the plot without even knowing it exists too much.

At first, everyone is shocked and confused (Furina and Neuvi are crying, hugging Focalors), but after searching around, making sure that they are no longer in Teyvat (Celestia's absence in the sky is very obvious) and that they have no idea how to return home, the Archons decide to do the next logical thing – to adjust, settle down and spend a more thorough investigation.

Zhongli becomes an unspoken guide: the setting, culture, people, and even the language of this place are very reminiscent of Liyue from about 1,000 to 2,000 years ago. The Archons change their names, pick up clothes, Zhongli and Nahida (and Venti) teach the others the Liyue (Chinese) language, and they look for ways to earn money. This is where an interesting aspect of this world is revealed – cultivation. Upon arrival, the Archons noticed that something had changed in them - the developed abilities to perceive and use qi and everything that follows from this.

The principles of cultivation existed and were practiced in Liyue, but were not as widespread or accessible, few achieved immortality in this way, it is easier to obtain Vision. Right now, only the exorcist clans are doing this.

So, yes, their new bodies, in addition to the slightly altered appearance, received a certain level of cultivation. I'm a little lame at this, but from what I've understood, the following turns out: Venti, Zhongli, and Raiden have a Spirit Transformation stage, Nahida, Focalors, and Neuvillette have a Nascent soul, Mavuika has a Core Formation, and Furina either also has a Formation or a Foundation. We don't have much information about the Tsaritsa yet, but let's assume that either the Core Formation or the Nascent soul. Without much choice (Nevillett is definitely annoyed that he doesn't have as high level as the three Archons), they continue to develop their level. + they all have a strong affinity with their own element.

Before we move on to the plot snacks, let's quickly go over what our transmigrators decided to do after they settled down a bit:

Venti (Tian Ling) is still the same drunken bard, wandering between towns and villages, singing songs and playing music for food and alcohol. He also listens to the wind, which whispers gossip to him from all over the world. Later, he started playing pranks on arrogant Immortals, as well as collecting dirt on important people cough Old Palace Master cough.

(Long) Zhongli – oh, that old man doesn't sit around. He has the most useful knowledge (because of the similarity of cultures) and he is a jack of all trades (interest in the life of his people has been affecting over the past few thousand years). It was Zhongli who started the business that brought them considerable profits and reputation – jewelry business. Morax has the "Earth Sense", which, in addition to sensing everything that steps on the ground around him for many kilometers, gives him knowledge of the exact location of various ore deposits and mines. Get jade, gold, and so on? Not a question. Do you want variety? Handicrafts made of wood and clay sell well among low-income citizens. At first they were traveling merchants, then they settled in some city/settlement, and when they started picking up homeless children, a small sect was formed.

Raiden Ei (Lei Jianshou) is a wandering cultivator at its purest. When her fellow Archons don't need her help, she just roams the country, taking orders for monsters. There are few things that can really challenge her (I was thinking, but how often in this case did Ei come across one of the many, MANY aphrodisiac poisons? If she were still controlling the puppet (it just got itself a qi system), would all this not affect her? Oh, what a potential!). Raiden also occasionally visits the demon world, probably causing a stir there and disappearing without a trace~

Nahida (Ye Zhi) – oh, this little girl is HUNGRY for knowledge about the new world. She spends most of her time in Zhongli's company helping him with their business, Venti tells her world gossip, Furina sometimes takes her to concerts. Others often bring her books or get admission to various libraries of noble people/clans for her. She is also the one who mainly looks after the orphans they are gradually recruiting.

Furina (Shui Zhuying) – this girl wants to promote Art! She often teams up with Venti and sometimes Mavuika for her music shows. She mixes the styles of Fontaine and China (Liyue), even accidentally at first, and then intentionally influences fashion and trends.

Focalors (Shui Zhuqian) – of course, she helps Furina with her performances and preparations, but she akts more like Nahida: she helps with business, looks after children, collects knowledge. She also often engages in diplomacy, along with Zhongli, Neuvillette, and Mavuika.

Nevillette (Shui Jiaoban) – he mostly travels with Furina, to protect her. He watches people, reads books. He is looking for everything about the laws of this place and other intelligent species besides humans.

Mavuika (Huo Guozhan) is like Raiden, she spends most of her time Hunting, sometimes performs with Venti and Furina, and also trains children.

The Tsaritsa (Yin Lian) mostly travels, especially in the demon world, and tries to spend less time in the company of other Archons.

(I was thinking of adding "character sheets" here, but this post is already taking too long to create, I can make separate posts later.)

So, the foundation has been laid, now we can talk about the plot.

First of all, the Shen brothers! There are many options, but let's focus on the fact that Shen Yuan (transmigrant) the eldest, and Shen Jiu is the youngest with a difference of a year. Yue Qi and Shen brothers were orphans on the streets and later slaves. SY had health problems, and although SJ was younger, he took on the role of a "responsible" brother, taking care of the elder's well-being, so that his too kind and naive Yuan-ge would not be deceived by evil adults.

But in the end they are separated. Shen Jiu is sent to the Qiu Manor, and Shen Yuan is later given to some wandering medical practitioner. Imagine the horror and grief when, after several visits, Qi-ge comes very sad and, having beaten the answers out of him, A-Jiu finds out that the wandering doctor has left the city with his Yuan-ge. They no longer know where Yuan-ge is or if he is even alive.

Oh, how it breaks little A-Jiu. Qi-ge then goes to the sect and promises that he will train, look for A-Yuan, and return for Xiao-Jiu to either reunite the brothers or continue searching together.

Shen Jiu has little hope, but he believes in his Qi-ge.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is not doing well.

Our unfortunate transmigrant ended up with some arrogant NPC villain who wants to achieve immortality through science, because he is complet zero in cultivation: no makings, no talents + a bunch of rejected attempts to get into the sect. He tests his experiments on child slaves, and also sells all sorts of concoctions to stupid rich people.

SY is a particularly profitable investment, because although he is sick in himself, his cultivation base (natural talent + attempts to meditate based on his knowledge from a previous life) supports him well, which means he is potentially more resilient and will survive more experiments than ordinary children.

So yes, he wanted to check it out, but it turned out to be sideways for him. The System is to blame for everything!! (By the way, does Shen Yuan have a System? The issue is under discussion)

So what's all this about? The sale of the Shen brothers takes place about 2 years after the arrival of the Archons in this world, and they get to know SY 2 more years later. Zhongli has already gained a good reputation, Archons have recently rebuilt several houses on neutral mountain as a base, but they are still mostly nomadic traders half the year. One day, they (Venti, Zhongli, and Nahida) arrived in the city to trade and decided to stop by the fair/market. Venti and Zhongli started quarreling as usual, Nahida was distracted for a minute and then bam! Some people grab her and drag her into an alley. It turns out that these slavers urgently needed a little girl, whom they almost immediately put in front of the doctor.

Nahida quickly understands what's going on, warns her Archon brothers ("I'm kinda kidnapped by slavslave traders here, which you probably be glad to deal with, but in the meantime I'll go with the doctor. He clearly has more children (learns from a conversation with him), which he experiments on.") and goes to the monster's lair. The doctor has an estate in the middle of nowhere so that he won't be disturbed and it will be harder for the slaves to escape. There, Nahida meets Shen Yuan (who quickly notices how strange this kid is).

SY is the (self-proclaimed) chief responsible in charge of the experimental child slaves, looking after them when he himself is not suffering from another fever, malaise or surgery. He tries to calm and make her comfortable (girl is completely calm), she asks him about the other slaves, and then Venti appears.

Tian Ling (Venti): Your problems with doctors are truly impressive, little radish. Did you really forget your apple for the day? Says a guy in aquamarine green robes, playing with that apple in his hands. How did he get here in the first place? Wait a minute… "Did this kid just make a reference to 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away'? What the hell, there was definitely no such saying in ancient China! Although in the novel from such a hack author-" Ye Zhi (Nahida): You're punctual as always, Ling-ge. A-Yuan and I were just discussing how to get the other kids out of here. Tian Ling (Venti): Yes, you're right. We need to hurry up before everything turns into a pancake. Shen Yuan: Excuse me?!

They actually manage to escape and take the child slaves with them, but at the last moment the doctor appears with a couple of henchmen. A fight ensues, in which SY manages to sacrifice himself to protect Nahida, Venti throws all the villains into the building and then…

A shiver runs down their spine as pressure builds up in the air around. High above the manor, a man stands on a sword, his brown robes fluttering in the wind, and even at this distance, Shen Yuan knows that the man's eyes sparkle with gold, promising retribution. "Show-off," Shen Yuan hears Ling-ge snorting to himself, and he would have easily agreed – this scene reminds him too much of a superhero action movie – if the sky hadn't abruptly darkened and a WHOLE FUCKING METEORITE hadn't crashed out of the thickening black clouds onto the damned doctor's estate! WHAT THE FUCK, AIRPLANE, WHERE DID YOU HIDE THIS OP CHARACTER??!!

Venti, Nahida and Zhongli take the sick children to their base (where Focalors spends most of her time), treat and take care of them. Shen Yuan is very confused about this strange group of NPCs who barely fit into the world of PIDW (except for Long Zhongli, he's like a native here), whether they're scams, but they're full of contradictory signals. (If SY has a System, then he remembers very well the prohibition on disclosing his transmigrant status, but on the other hand, how would the System… not recognize these people? Which is very strange.)

Shen Yuan soon tells the Archons that he has a brother whom he would very much like to save from the cruel Owners, but he only knows the surname of Qiu, not the location. It takes a couple of months to search (- a few more slave trading networks) and they find the Qiu mansion. Zhongli and Focalors come to Qiu with a desire to "buy" Shen Jiu, diplomatically threaten to inform the high ups about all the illegal affairs of this family (Venty found out), and the boy is quickly given to them (they inform anyway).

At the time of the rescue from Qiu, SJ is 13, SY is 14, and YQ is 15.

Shen Jiu, of course, is in terrible stress, quiet horror and caustic anger - exactly as long as he does not see Shen Yuan. His lively and healthy Yuan-ge, right there in front of him, smiles that warm smile and takes him into a safe and secure embrace. A-Jiu will definitely not let his Yuan-ge out of his sight in the coming weeks.

Depending on how much drama you want, Shen Brothers will go to Cang Qiong Sect in a year or later. The archons (mainly Zhongli, Nahida and Mavuika) gave them a base and knowledge, and given their potential in cultivation, they are eventually accepted despite their age. Shen Jiu goes to Qing Jing, Shen Yuan to the Beasts Peak. And either they reunite with Yue Qi before he drew his sword, or they join the sect shortly after he was locked up in the Lingxing caves, which is why it takes a whole year before they can meet. I have a dramatic scene for the second option)

Yue Qi runs straight from the caves to the Qiu manor, only to have them laugh in his face that the Jiu boys haven't been with them for a long time. Yue Qi leaves the manor with nothing, as if in a daze, he wanders away from the city, on the verge of qi deviation, his hands clenching his grip on the sword. His thoughts spiral, and the boy falls to his knees. So many years of work, sweat, blood and pain for one purpose, when Xiao Jiu had not been there for a long time. He didn't even manage to find a trace of Xiao Yuan. Qi-ge is really pathetic and useless. He failed his dear people, couldn't keep a single promise, didn't- "Aya, buddy, breathe deeper! At this rate, you'll suffocate before I can say 'apple'." Yue Qi blinked. A bright young voice like a spring breeze pulled him out of a spiral of dark thoughts. The young man managed to barely control his panicked breathing and look at the speaker. The man, even the boy, looked barely older than Yue Qi himself, in clean, bright turquoise robes, dark hair, and large green eyes full of worry and playfulness. Yue Qi averted his gaze and bowed his head. "This one apologize to Gongzi for the unworthy appearance. This one-" "Aya, don't do all this official stuff with me. Not a fan," the young man's eyes darkened. "Besides, there's nothing unworthy about feeling emotions. And considering the situation…" His throat tightened at the reminder, but now, with a clearer mind, the phrase aroused suspicion. "Does the young master know anything about the situation of this?" "Mmm, there's a little bit here and there," the young man plopped down on the ground in front of him, and Yue Qi almost recoiled from such careless and disrespectful behavior. "Name is Tian Ling, to friends just Venti, the bard carried by the wind. The wind speaks to me, and when it told me about my child's desperate plea, I couldn't ignore it." He grinned and leaned closer to the young cultivator. "We can't let Qi-ge do something stupid and reckless again, can we?" This time, Yue Qi couldn't help but shudder. His eyes widened in shock, disbelief, and a spark of hope as he stared into Tian Ling's kind eyes. Not happening. No one calls him Qi-ge except- "A-Jiu and A-Yuan have been waiting for you in Cang Qiong for a year now. Come back home, Qi ge."

(I'm not crying, it's just pollen) This is the main tie of the Shen brothers arc, the details can be specified separately. I tried to connect the Archons with as many canon characters as possible. For some, there are more ideas, for others there are fewer. For example:

As the main researchers in the group, Focalors and Nahida (although more than Nahida) could eventually start publishing some scientific reports (with rare cameos from other Archons, Neuvillette definitely has something to say about their legislation.) Focalors' topic is medicine, Nahida's – properties of various plants and animals. On the basis of one of the reports, they could have started a business and then a friendly correspondence with the young Mu Qingfang.

Liu Qingge could definitely cross paths with Raiden and Mavuika a lot on his night hunts. And fought them. Even purposefully tracking them down for revenge. Mavuika could give him a couple of lessons about teamwork and the power of friendship.

In later years, Yue Qingyuan could get to know Zhongli and Neuvillette (and Furina) at some official events.

The Tsaritsa saved baby-Mobey and has since plunged into demonic politics.

Getting to know Shang Qinghua would be fun. Imagine that he is on some kind of An Dean's mission as an apprentice and runs into Venti, who is singing a slightly reworked version of "Toss a coin to your Witcher" in the middle of the street. How many misunderstandings will there be until they figure out that, yes, they are transmigrators, but not from the same world?

Oh, Tianlan-jun is also an interesting topic. His love and interest in human culture is a good opportunity to make friends with Zhongli (a strong and wise man who nevertheless shares his admiration for humanity), Venti (a funny guy with a sense of humor and dirty songs) and Furina (a bright talented lady actress who promotes a "new" style of theater that It's very much to Tianlan-jun's taste.)

That seems to be all for now… Well, what do you think?

Masterpost

[thetorturedbolter]

can someone please inform dan and phil that golf with friends has like four or five new levels because i need them to revive that series more than i have ever needed anything in my entire life

[connormoving]

im like umm ummm. idk. i feel quite unfulfilled but idk what i want

[garez19]

a lot to share

rich! yandere x thief reader.

reader steals from her richie rich friends, yandere male, manipulation, subtle blackmailing, class distinction, 4.4k wc.

you had always wondered how it felt to be a rich kid. a real rich kid. not the upper middle class, i mean, rich kids whose parents could afford anything and everything for them. kids whose parents invest in their children’s education, their passions and aspirations without having to worry about paying the bills.

growing up you met a handful of them, and you even befriended some. you witnessed the fact that everything they -and you, for that matter- ever wanted had always been between their lips.

you were envious, even when they were certainly generous to you. why would they not be? they always had more. they could’ve always had more. and it pissed you off. the fact that you were never, no matter how hard you tried, on the same level as them made you turn into a grumpy kid most of the time. you wanted that one toy eliza had, and you didn’t want to play with it and give it back to her when the playtime was over. you wanted it to be yours. a belonging of yours.

your mother wasn’t happy in the slightest when she found the toy in your backpack. she was angry, for sure, but there was a different kind of emotion in her face; disappointed and embarrassed. still, you could only assume how much patience she needed to have to be able to have a normal conversation with you. she tried to seem understanding, and did her very best to explain what you did was not acceptable, and how eliza must’ve been very upset that her favorite toy was gone. you remained still, but your mother could see the way your upper lip was quivering.

“eliza’s mom can buy her a new one.” you said right before bursting into tears. what was the big deal? why did she have to ruin everything for you?

“that doesn’t mean you can get your hands on their belongings.” she replied, her voice sharp and stern this time. “i’m sorry.” was all you managed to let out. she gave you a sympathetic look. then she talked a bit more, and you agreed you’d give it back to her tomorrow.

“you shouldn’t do that again.” she reminded you once more. you hummed quietly. however, you still couldn’t quite understand what was truly wrong with it. even so, you did as your mother told you. but when you saw eliza with such big surprised eyes, full of joy and a beaming smile on her face, you could finally see why your mother was so upset with you.

you were happy she didn’t try to ask questions. where did you find it? why didn’t you tell me? were you the one who took it? no, none of them had crossed her mind. “thank you,” was all she said. “mom bought me a new one,” she added. “i can give it to you if you’d like.” she said while playing with the toy. you didn’t answer. you couldn’t find the right word. you were ashamed—a new emotion you’d learned very recently.

“i don’t want it.” you mastered up all your courage. the desire was always bigger. it was bigger than shame, or wrath, it was bigger than any emotion you could ever describe. but you didn’t want someone to give it to you just because it was something they wanted to get rid of.

you wanted to conquer it instead. you wanted to get your hands on it forcefully, by grabbing it and making sure that you were the one who took it.

you ended up stealing it, told your mom she gave it to you because “her mom bought her a new one.”

soon it had become a habit. you knew how wrong it was, and you knew the consequences you had to face in a scenario where you were caught. you knew you weren’t worthy of having any friends, and the excuse of “their parents can buy them a new one.” didn’t work on your conscience anymore.

but, you couldn’t stop.

you tried your best to surpass the desire. the desire to have more, to own more, and to get to have a say in what you truly wanted in this life. you tried your hardest, so much that you even avoided rich kids like the plague.

but then he came into your life with classy clothes and a car you would have only seen in your dreams.

materials don’t mean anything to me, you reminded yourself. sure, they didn’t; what got on your nerves was the fact that they had the chance to have it, maybe. maybe it was the only reason you were angry.

none of it means anything to me. you reminded yourself.

but it was hard to do so when he was there. he was kind, charismatic and intelligent. truly an overachiever, and he certainly got it all.

you have never had such desire in a long time. the last thing you had craved something so painfully was eliza’s toy.

when you ran out of patience, you already found yourself seated next to him, glancing at the notes he took in class. first it was small remarks. then you became a familiar face for him. then you were talking to him, sharing stories and making stupid jokes, asking stupid questions.

you were weird. he could almost sense something was off with you. acting sweetly and bubbly all the time, yet he could see your eyes were dull when you looked at him. it was nothing he hadn’t seen as he had always been surrounded by people like you. sly and ready to fake any kind of demeanor.

no,

what he didn’t understand was you were still trying your best to do as your mother said. just because someone is rich doesn’t mean i can get my hands on their belongings. you reminded yourself as you found a better place for your -eliza’s- toy. more than a decade had passed, and you still didn’t grow out of it.

how laughable you were.

you observed the toy very carefully, adjusting its position and rechecking again.

as i said, the desire to own something was bigger than any meaningful sense of accomplishment. and, fairly enough, rich kids could never make sense out of something so sentimental. he could never understand such emotion. he never truly craved anything. nothing ever was over his reach, which is why he could never figure out motivation of people with tenacity.

he always knew he could get whatever he wanted. his parents didn’t hesitate to spend hundreds on toys he would play with only once. he didn’t have a favorite toy, because at the end of the day, none of them was special.

he didn’t have close friends that would truly care. he didn’t know how to forge unbreakable bonds with people, because at the end of the day, he didn’t crave anything including meaningful human connections.

he didn’t have a life-time goal. sure, he had got the best grades, but it wasn’t truly because he had the motivation. he simply had endless opportunities and didn’t have anything better to do than learning new stuff that seemed somehow entertaining.

an overachiever with no real ambition in his life.

how laughable he was.

and yet you were really getting on his nerves. it was nothing new for him really, being surrounded by girls who didn’t know how to take no as an answer. girls who wanted to taste how it felt like to be with him, to be him. girls who wanted pretty boys with a lot to share.

he hated people like you. he hated that he was only a symbol of achievement and acceptance to people with materialistic values. that was exactly when he decided to go along with you. he started agreeing with whatever you wanted to do. you had a stupid idea? all ears. you wanted him to be your project partner? sure thing. you had seen a funny video? show him.

because he really wanted to see where this was going for once. he wanted to see how much you were willing to go just so you could get what you wanted. you couldn’t decide if the change was good or not. it was unexpected, and unexpected things would make your stomach upset. you enjoyed his company, true, yet you still couldn’t get your eyes off of eliza’s toy. and you sure wouldn’t try to avert your gaze on his belongings. he should’ve known better, but you could still hear your mother’s voice in your head.

hanging out with him was fun. he was only there when you actually asked him to. he didn’t need you to check up with him because, fairly enough, he couldn’t care less about you. he didn’t consider you a friend, and he most certainly had lots of things to do. the comfort of such dynamic made you feel lighter. he made you feel comfortable unlike eliza and your other friends who found you distant the moment you tried to have some time by yourself.

hanging out with you, although hard to admit, was fun. you didn’t ask about his ambitions and such topics he wouldn’t want to answer. you were just so busy with telling him how much you hated your boss and your family matters you weren’t supposed to tell anyone. you had a lot to share. you had funny stories about high school. you had recommendations on books and songs about love. you had laughs and joy to share, even when it didn’t seem genuine to him at all.

“my friend made it, wanna taste it?” you told him. he didn’t answer. you still gave him a small piece of it anyway. he could see you actually liked sharing, and it wasn’t special to him. you were annoying, sure, but you still had qualities he liked about you.

he liked not having to talk about serious matters. he liked he had someone he could be stupid with.

and unlike he had assumed, you weren’t trying to pursue him romantically. you weren’t flirting with him, and you weren’t interested in knowing his current relationship status. some compliments here and there, small jokes about how your eyes were blinded by his light, and that was pretty much it. and weirdly enough, you didn’t appreciate it when he tried to treat you to your favorite dessert.

“how do you even call this shit a dessert?” you asked him while tasting what he had. he frowned for a second. “you’re jealous it tastes like heaven.” he said. you grimaced at him before tasting it again.

you had gotten even closer by the following months. he wasn’t quite sure if he still didn’t consider you a friend. and you were happy you didn’t catch anything you wanted to own. except his car, of course, but you didn’t want to play GTA in real life anyway, so you were good.

“are you going to come to the library tomorrow?” he asked, “for the project, remember?”

you checked the date. you rechecked it.

“i’m ditching school, can we do it the day after tomorrow?” you answered.

“oh, sure. did something happen?”

“it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

he frowned. then he also checked the date. turned out, you’d never talked about the dates of your birthdays. but he was still… annoyed for some reason. the fact that he learned about it just before the day made him uneasy. why did you not tell him? who were you going to celebrate it with? why wasn’t he invited? why was he upset over it?

mom makes a big deal out of birthdays, that must be the reason.

“okay, that’s good. what are the plans tomorrow?” he tried his very best to seem uninterested. so much that he hadn’t even said ‘happy birthday in advance’ or ‘ why didn’t you tell me?’ he was unbothered. he was completely fine.

“well, i’ll just celebrate it with my friends.” you replied. he still couldn’t hear what he wanted yet. you still didn’t offer him to join. not that he cared, no, he just. it was just an old habit from his mom. that was all. yeah. nothing else.

“oh. cool.” he said, the awkwardness taking over you thanks to his 2 worded answers.

“wanna come?” you doubted he would say yes as you remembered him talking about how much he disliked such concepts due to his mom’s exaggeration.

“yes,” to your surprise he didn’t hesitate, “sure,” nor did he waste a second. you couldn’t really hide your surprise, and he felt like he was supposed to disappear from the earth for a while.

“what? was i supposed to stay and do your stupid part too?” he laughed.

“oh and, you don’t need to bring a gift,” he lifted his eyebrow as you continued, “i mean, i don’t accept gifts. so just, bring your shiny self, okay?”

he looked at you with pure terror. no gifts, on your own birthday? his mother would’ve gone crazy. but he didn’t persist. it wasn’t easy for him to understand your perspective in many cases anyway.

the next day he truly felt bad for listening to you, because even though none of the guests had any gift for you, you truly deserved anything you wanted with that elegant outfit and your lovely smile. well, not anything. the exaggeration of birthdays was passed down to him from his mother. yeah. surely that was it.

your friends wouldn’t stop asking who he was and where you met him. was he single? wait, were you seeing him? no? good. well, happy birthday, dear.

the day ended with peace and happiness. you were thankful to your friends for being there and sharing the joy. the guests were leaving, and they didn’t forget to wish you the happiest birthday one last time. everyone left, everyone except him since he needed to answer a phone call real quick.

when he was done with it, he made his way to the kitchen to let you know he was ready to leave. that was the moment he saw it: a box wrapped in glossy yellow paper, tied with navy ribbon.

“so you accept gifts?” his voice was stern, for the lack of a better word.

“uhh, i don't,” you glanced at the present. “it’s from eliza.”

“so you accept gifts,” he said once more.

“well, what, are you jealous?” you grinned. that wasn’t the deal. his mother’s weird habits was — whatever.

“of what?” he sounded defensive, “anyway, nevermind, do you want to open it?” now he was like a little boy asking his friends to open their gifts out of curiosity. “let’s see what she got.”

you nodded slowly, gently unboxing it as he watched your hands. his gaze shifted to your expression once you were done—your mouth shaped like the letter o, your eyes glossy almost like you were crying.

he had never regretted anything as badly as not getting you a present. he knew there were times his mother was right, and yeah, he really should’ve known better.

he came up with a solution the next day: another package for you. and he certainly wasn’t any different than eliza, if not worse. even though you loved him and eliza, you still didn’t want expensive stuff from them. the little kid in you still thought it wasn’t truly yours if you weren’t the one who wanted it. when he saw you hesitate, he rested his hand on his chin. “i know you accept gifts,” he said with a faint smile.

his sharp gaze was lingering in the eyes of yours. you did your utmost to get it over with as quick as you could.

you didn’t have to know how hard it was for him to pick the ideal gift out there. you didn’t have to know he went as far as asking his old classmates from highschool to help him out. he didn’t have to tell you he kept annoying his mother—telling her she was the only one he could trust on this. she was taken aback by the sudden request as she had never seen him this excited for such occasions before. normally, he would buy whatever that seemed decent enough.

it was the prettiest bracelet you had seen. simple, and very elegant in its simplicity.

it wasn’t a gift you would -or could- buy your friends, to be honest. it was probably something you could only see on top of the counter. but, you knew rich kids had a different view on such matters. eliza never hesitated to get you such presents too, and she didn’t care which brand it was (or if it even had a brand, for that matter) as long as it seemed to look good on her.

you contemplated selling the bracelet before even getting to wear it. but his eyes were focused on your wrists, leaving you little to no choice.

you wore the bracelet, gently shaking your hand to make sure it wasn’t too loose.

“it’s pretty,” you said, still ashamed of the attention from him. you couldn’t find the correct words, and you hated the awkwardness of such words, “thank you, it’s… it’s so beautiful.” you said while looking at your bracelet. he liked your expression, and was most certainly satisfied with the reaction.

“of course, i picked it, after all,” he said with a boyish grin, certainly proud of himself.

the next day he couldn’t see the bracelet on your wrist.

did you not like it? that couldn’t be it because there was no way you could fake that type of expression. you liked it, no, you adored it, there was no way you didn’t. his eyes were on your bare wrist the whole day. the day after that, and the next day too. he hadn’t said anything, but his eyes were still.

“you think she didn’t like it?” he asked his mother. she was truly confused. there was no way her son, of all people, was nervous over a birthday gift.

“she probably just doesn’t like wearing bracelets.” she said with indifference. “some people are sensitive to how things feel on their skin.”

“she could’ve just told me.” he mumbled. he would’ve get you another gift if you asked him to. it was stupid of him, really, thinking too deeply over a stupid bracelet. but, in his defense,it was for you. from him.

even though you considered selling and getting rid of it, you couldn’t get yourself daring it. you knew he had tried to play it off, but you were able to see his content expression. and just because you felt awkward wearing it, you wouldn’t just do that to him. turned out even you had principles and some ethics. you put the gift right next to eliza’s toy as they brought a similar type of discomfort to you.

he had started to pay more attention to your sense of fashion. noting what you had wore and how you styled your hair, what accessories you wore, if you did. he tried to understand your preferences in perfumes and shampoos. you -and even he himself- didn’t even realize he did it. he kept asking his mom what type of gifts girls would like. he kept keeping track of every single piece of clothing you had. but there was still no trace of the bracelet. it was completely gone. he didn’t care if you wore accessories or not, all he cared was whether you wore that one single item he had for you.

“oh, it looks so pretty,” your friend pointed at the bracelet. “is it new?”

“oh, well, it’s been a while, my friend’s given it to me as a birthday gift.” you said, looking at the accessory.

“you should wear it,” she suggested. “it’s soooo beautiful!”

you didn’t answer. the weight of the item -of the feelings included in it- made it unable to lift your arm. but, you acknowledged you were making it a big deal. nothing wrong with using what your friends gave you, no?

no one including you could find out the reason he was so cheerful and ecstatic that day. not even his mom. he kept giving kind words to his friends whenever he had the opportunity— not something people caught him doing often. he even offered help to troubled people whose assignments were due. he greeted his mother so enthusiastically that she was almost 100% sure her son was finally losing it.

he was finally losing it, but your wrist looked so pretty with his gift on it. he couldn’t shake off the feelings of craving. he wanted your attention. he wanted you to think of him whenever you looked at your wrist. throughout his life, he finally had something to hang on to, to want, to desire. and it finally made sense to him when people had their lifetime goals they wouldn’t stop thinking about. people with undying ambitions and their dedication to do whatever it would take.

he wanted to be the subject of your attention. he wanted it bad.

you were finally losing it. because the more time you spent with him, the more you realized all that character development had gone straight into the trash—and that you weren’t fixable by any means. his company was comfortable, and you liked being around him. but, still, you could sense how envious you were. how jealous you were of his stupid car, his classy outfits, his big house and his mother who had mesmerizing eyes that were identical to his. you were upset he had everything, and you were upset there was no way you could drive that stupid car once your little hangout time was over.

you were finally losing it, because he had everything you had ever dreamed of. because he had everything, and the desire made your soul rotten.

it had started off slowly. like an old crow who adored shiny objects, you started off with a glamorous ring. it was his favorite, as you recalled correctly. and then it was his pretty bracelet, though not prettier than yours. then it was the jacket from that one luxury brand. and the list was getting longer. normally, you wouldn’t go as far as this because normally, people would start grumbling about how their stuff kept getting lost.

he was confused at first, though not exactly upset. he didn’t understand your motives as he had made it clear he was okay with sharing pretty much everything he had. he liked it when you had stuff that would remind you of him. why… did you feel the need to do that? was he not clear enough?

you didn’t accept his gifts, but you were completely okay with taking whatever you liked that belonged to him. you didn’t want gifts, but you didn’t stop pocketing his stuff. he was confused, but maybe, just maybe, you wanted little things in your house that’d make you think of him? maybe you were just too much of a loser and lacked good manners to ask like a normal human being.

no matter what the case was, he wasn’t bothered at all. even if you had ill intentions, it was no big deal, because at the end of the day, it wasn’t stealing if he was aware and okay with it.

he kept getting new jackets that seemed to fit your style. he got new bracelets and made sure you saw them.

the fact that he was totally unaware made you wonder if he was truly stupid, or just richer than you had imagined. he kept getting more and more stuff, and never mentioned anything getting lost. you were completely lost because… because it didn’t make sense at all. it had started to get annoying for you. that there was no way this man wouldn’t look for his items, nor was he even aware they were gone.

it started to piss you off. and you could feel your body getting tenser whenever you glanced at his figure. there was nothing you could do that’d affect this guy. you felt yourself distancing yourself from him. at the end of the day, the only person who was losing it was you. there wasn’t a single thing he would care about losing.

well, the only exception being you.

he could see you were annoyed, though not entirely able to tell the reason. he could see you drifting apart. and worth mentioning he didn’t take it well. things were getting more complicated day by day, and understanding you had never been harder.

there was no way you could walk away. not when he finally had someone to hold onto.

“my ring got lost again,” he mumbled while you two were working on an assignment together. you looked up at him, panic in your eyes lasted only a millisecond.

“oh…” you said, not managing to form a coherent sentence.

“it’s like… the third time this has happened in two weeks.” he peered at your wrist, the bracelet was still there. he smiled softly.

“you should’ve just told me if you had wanted a ring.” his voice was warm. it was genuine, and made you terrified of such warmth.

you didn’t answer, mouth going completely dry.

“you know how hard it is to deal with authorities, right?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound threatening at all—he was still smiling, and his voice was still the softest you’d ever heard from him.

“i…” he didn’t let you finish. “it’s okay, dear,” reassured, “sharing is caring, y’know,” you looked at his expression to catch a glimpse of contempt— to your surprise, there weren’t any.

“i just… don’t think you should be distant to people when you have their ring,” he cooed, “isn’t that right?”

he made it sound weirdly romantic. like he was the one who gave it. you had his ring, that was true, and it was almost like he was happy you did.

“i’m sorry,” you finally managed to speak up. he shaked his head. “nothing to apologize, dear, the only problem we have is,” he gazed at your hands—stripped of any jewelry, “we need to find a ring that actually fits your finger.” he smiled.

you didn’t know how it came to this, but it was too late to reject any gifts.

[writing-mlm]

What about normal mark x male reader who is his childhood friend

Maybe friends to lovers

Like really from kids they were by each others side, great friends, then when Mark got his powers, Mark told him first, then when Nolan fights him, debbie and the reader are both by his side. The reader staying with him through Amber and Eve, even if he was a little jealous and maybe after the variants or conquest Mark finally realizes he's in love with his childhood friend

Mothers are the best wingman

Summary: Mark’s been your best friend long before either of you were born and it seems like your mothers have a plan for the two of you. Too bad you’re both too blind to notice. Pairing: Mark Grayson x Male reader Word Count: 4.4k Tags/Warnings: canon-level violence, reader gets attacked, one sex joke, past Mark/Amber, established (later broken up) Mark/Eve, embarrassing mothers, reader is not a hero, one drunk scene

Your mother loved her photo albums, but she especially loved the one that was wrapped in a brown fabric with a white lace trim. It was the first photo album she ever bought; she tells the story often enough that it’s engraved in your mind. 

“When I was ten, my brother had his first kid,” She’d smile, brushing against the lace. “I knew then that I wanted one, too. I bought this with my allowance money and hid it for a decade.” It was a pair, in truth. A brown with white trim and a white one with brown trim. She swore the white one was going to be for her secondborn born but then she met Debbie. 

“We were college roommates,” Again, the story was engraved in you. “Ugh, hit it off there. I met your father and she met Nolan. Would you believe it, we got pregnant at the same time? And that’s when I knew,” She’d wave her hands before pointing at the white album, where, behind the yellowing plastic, was the name card. 

Mark & (Y/n) 

Below your names were both of your birthdays. Born six days apart, you were destined to be best friends, and even if you weren’t, you doubt your mothers wouldn’t have given you much of a choice otherwise. 

She’d show everyone you brought home pictures from the albums. God forbid Mark also knew them, oh boy they were in for story after story. You remember when you first invited William over— the stupid gossip loved each and every picture— he even has pictures of his favorites in his camera roll. 

Bath time, birthdays, graduation, vacations, your awkward braces phase, Nolan carrying the two of you on his shoulders, school plays, sleepovers, Halloween, your dad taking the two of you on a solo fishing trip, Christmas, beach trips, playing in the rain, and so much more. The album was stuffed to the absolute brim with pictures. There's an entire decade worth of pictures inside of it. She had to get a new one by the time you were nine, though. And it was still going. You cringed as she showed Eve yet another picture, remembering the day in painful detail. 

“I’m so going to kill myself,” You tell him through gritted teeth, forced to smile and give a thumbs up. 

“Me first,” He whispers back, an equally forced smile and a pained thumbs up. He has one arm around you, as do you, which isn’t the embarrassing part. The embarrassment comes from the fact that it’s your first day working at the Burger Mart together, and your mother and Debbie insisted she needed this picture for the scrapbook. 

Your dad, to his credit, hides his laugh behind his baseball hat. 

CLICK!

“Look at them,” Your mother cooed, showing Debbie the picture. 

“They look so cute! I’m so proud of you two!” 

“Oh my god, she’s crying,” You whisper. 

“Should we run inside?” He snorts when you jab his side. Thankfully, your dad calls them back to the car and the two of you are allowed to actually work. It doesn’t take long for the shift lead to learn that you two should not be paired together and that making a soda isn’t a two-person job, despite your strong insistence. 

Looking back, it’s crazy that working at that job together meant you’d been the first to find out about his powers. You remembered watching as he tossed the bag of trash too hard, the black plastic disappearing with no sign of coming down anytime soon. 

Mark looks at you from his spot on the couch, giving you an awkwardly painful half smile that you share. It was the first time Eve was meeting any of you; you weren’t in Mark’s superhero circle and you never talked to her in high school. You think it was more awkward because your mother wasn’t meeting Eve as Mark’s hero partner but rather as his girlfriend. 

No one’s ever told your mother about the heroes in her life, she doesn’t know about Nolan, Mark, and now Eve. She thinks Nolan had gotten killed; she thinks Omni-Man was a man she’d only ever seen once before his rampage. When it happened, she had no idea why you were so scared. Why you’d run down the street to Debbie’s to make sure she was okay, and why you’d spent the night for a week straight over there. You told her that Mark was going through something, you forgot what weird lie it was but she eventually let it drop. 

Your mother flipping over a certain page has your eyes snapping to Mark and his find yours not a second later. You both know what that means— she wasn’t too fond of Eve. You’d assumed so, Mark too, it’s something that, after knowing your mother for a while you get clued into certain actions. But skipping over the page, that's pictures where you and Mark were watching the fireworks meant more than just her simply skipping the page. 

“I think she still thinks you and Amber would be better,” You’d later admitted in the backyard, watching as your dad flipped burgers while your mother, Debbie, and Eve laid in the pool. It wasn’t one of those fancy in-ground pools— no it was one you’d gotten from Walmart with your first check because you just needed a pool. And fuck, it was coming back to bite you in the ass. 

“Really?” His voice cracks and you hum, staring at Eve with barely hidden jealousy. You wondered if you were like her, that he’d look at you the same way. Looking at him, your shoulders slump when you see his blush— right, he’s into women. The sight of Eve in a bikini is enough to get him worked up. 

“She’ll warm up to her,” You promise. “Eve’s nice.” You add because it’s hard to find something you don’t like about her. She’s nearly perfect. 

“Yeah,” His eyes switch to you as he smiles. “She is. I’m glad you like her, too, y’know?”

Your eyebrows pinch at the confession. “You are?” 

Mark nods. “You’re my best friend,” He laughs as if that wasn’t obvious. “I care about your opinion on things.”

“Yeah, but it’s your love life,” Mark shrugs, grabbing his soda and looks at Eve again. “I don’t really see why I matter in that…”

“If you don’t like someone, I don’t like them.” He explains and then his voice gets small. “Like when you told me that my dad was acting strange after my powers.” You’d caught them, while Mark was practicing and getting better at flying, that Nolan would switch emotions when he wasn’t looking. It caused a huge fight between the two of you. “I should’ve believed you.”

“You said you got over that,” You sigh. “It’s okay, I would’ve been hesitant too if you told me that my dad was acting weird.”

“Yeah, but your dad didn’t turn out to be an evil piece of—“

“Mark!” Eve giggles, her arms propped up on the edge of the pool. “Is it true that you used to play mermaids?” She asks, her head tilted and hair clinging to her skin in a way that makes it seem like it was done in some magazine to sell swimwear. 

“Mom, auntie!” He whines, the blush rushing back to his face. “No, I didn’t!”

“His tail was blue and yellow,” Your mother grins and Eve snorts; nothing can convince her that he didn’t now. Seriously, your mother who was oblivious to the whole hero thing just so happens to guess the colors of his suit? She couldn’t be making that up. “Why don’t you boys get in the pool? Cool down before it’s time to eat?” Mark looks at you and you look away from Eve, shrugging ever so slightly. 

“I want to finish up a report, but I’ll come down in a minute, yeah? It’s due in like three hours.” 

“You always wait until the last minute,” Your dad chastises and you laugh an apology before slipping back into the house. From your room, you can see the backyard and you get a full view of Mark letting Eve climb onto his shoulders to play a game of chicken with Debbie and your mother. Looking away, you slump on your bed and run a hand down your face before turning back to your laptop. 

Staring at your approval for a semester abroad, you wonder if distance would make these feelings go away. If you could just phase them away and just be happy for Mark instead of that stupid jealous feeling you get whenever he’s with his girlfriends. 

—

Two months into living in London, it’s safe to say that going abroad was the wrong idea. Like so wrong, so incredibly wrong that you were ready to jump on a flight and leave your things behind in your flat. Now, London wasn’t bad. You enjoyed it the normal amount— spent the first week really doing the tourist things and now just tried to go to classes. But you missed home, you missed Mark and your parents, you missed your high school friends, and the food back home. 

You hated seeing the news of Invincible taking yet another beating, hearing news about some earth-ending disaster he helped stop and not being able to be there. You hated that you knew he was hiding something, you can tell based on the way he texts, and how he looks when he calls you. Something is wrong with him and he’s not telling you and you’re not there to beat sense into him. 

And then he finds the time to fly over, you seem to forget about it and enjoy him for the little time you have him for. 

Some of your university friends were throwing a party at their flat and you happily went. You didn’t party in high school or during your first semester in college and now that there were no adults or friends to keep you in line, you’d gladly chug from the suspicious bottle. While you weren’t popular, there was definitely a crowd that knew you. You’re that transfer student from abroad staying with someone who’s in a decent number of friend groups. 

They cheer as you show the empty bottle and you laugh, shaking your head and drifting off to the snacks table to find something to wash the nasty taste away. There are some good British snacks, you’d admit but you absolutely hate having to call chips crisps. It’s painful— so painful man. 

Checking your phone, you don’t find many notifications. Just ones from the normal people, the regular group chats, and a spam text thrown into the mix. You’re about to pocket your phone when you start getting a call. Mark. Answering it, you find your way to a balcony and settle on a chair. 

“Hey, Mark,” 

“Are you busy— it sounds busy over there,” He inhales like he’s done something wrong. 

“No, I’m just at a friend's party. But I’m not busy, what’s up?”

If you’d been on FaceTime, you would’ve seen the way he looked away, how he ran his hand through his hair and how he stared back at the phone as if you would climb through it. “Eve broke up with me,” He finally says. Leaning forward in your seat, you scratch your neck to hide your smile. 

“Wha- what happened? I thought you two were good,” Mark sighs at the question, tossing himself back on his bed. 

“We were fighting, like, a lot. She was upset because…” He trails off like he hadn’t meant to say that part. Because he hadn’t. 

“Because?” 

“Because,” He nods to himself, sitting up. “I’ve… I've been— I don’t even know. We were fighting over everything, it seems.” He huffs and you know he’s hiding something again. But fine, he’ll tell you when he’s ready, right? For now, you’ll focus on the breakup and ignore him blatantly lying to you.

“If you want,” You carefully say, looking back towards the party. “No one would notice you slipping into the party I’m at—“ The wind blows and suddenly Mark is in front of you, his phone in his hand. Laughing, you end the call and drag him inside. He lets you, taking the cup of unknown liquid you eagerly hand him. You introduce him to some of your friends who’re too drunk to question how he was there and he slowly gets into the rhythm of the party. 

By the time it ends, he’s still sober. He learned the hard way that it takes a lot of alcohol to get him tipsy so he’s able to take you home when you’re stumbling over your feet. 

“Gonna throw up,” You mumble as he carefully flies through the city. “Park the car.” He laughs but lands in an alleyway at your request, watching as you throw up into a trash can. Wiping your mouth, you start walking away but he grabs your hand and pulls you back to him. 

Stumbling back to him, he steadies you. “Cars right here,” He jokes and you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder. He lifts you up, carefully making sure you don’t move too much as he rises into the sky again. 

“Mhmm, gonna ride you,” Mark pauses, his face turning red and stampers out a question only to find that you’d fallen asleep on him. Shaking his head, he flies you back to your flat and carefully tucks you in without your host family finding out. Taking a picture of you drooling, he laughs as he sends it to you before he leaves. 

—

It’s the last day of you living in London, your flight leaves tomorrow so you’re making the last of your final full day. You snacks you’ll miss, some things for your friends and family before eventually just walking around. It’s late in the afternoon when you decide to turn around and head back to your flat, your legs are going to go numb soon and you’re a bit hungry. 

As you turn around, you jump at the sight of Mark, well you guess Invincible since he’s in his suit. 

He looks at you with a grin that makes you a little nervous. “Hey, Invincible,” You greet, pushing the headphones from your head down to your neck. “Everything alright?”

His head tilts in this robotic way and you take a step back, eyes narrowing. “I remember you,” He breathes and your eyes drift to his suit— it’s different. It’s a slight change but he has a symbol on his arm that wasn’t there before. Grabbing your phone, your thumb presses against his contact before Invincible grabs you. His grip is tight— impossibly tight and you shout as your wrist snaps. “Yeah,” He drags out as you fall to your knees, eyes wide as you stare at your bone popped out from your skin. 

People around you scream and run; and he seems to soak it up for long enough that you grab your phone with your free hand; pressing the call button. 

“You were one of my concubines in my empire,” His head tilts up as he continues to stare at you. “My favorite one.” Mark finally picks up, his voice unsteady. His voice is muffled by the headphones so you can’t make out what he’s saying, just his tone. 

“Let me go,” You plead, trying to avoid staring at your blood when it’s gushing from your wrist. “Please.” Mark pauses on the other end and you hope he heard it. You hope that whoever this was with his body, his voice, and a nearly identical suit won’t kill you before he gets there. 

“No.” His hand quickly moves from your wrist to your neck, tightening in a deathly grip that makes you choke. Holding his wrist, you try kicking him but he grabs your ankle, snapping your leg upward in one motion. Without air, you can’t scream as the pain ripples through your body. Closing your eyes, you try and breathe. Struggling to even get half an inhale inside your lungs. “You’re weak, fucking pathetic—“ You’re dropped to the ground and you shapely inhale. 

With your good hand you prop yourself up and look at where the weird Invincible once stood. Instead, there’s no one there and you look to your left. The gates are bent inwards, broken in pieces and on the lawn, you can see Invincibles fighting. The fake one, is on the ground, covering his face as your Invincible bashes his head in. You’d forgotten that Mark changed his suit colors. You should have known, should’ve remembered it.

Someone helps you, an older woman in a pantsuit gently pulls you away from the fight, reassuring you that she’d called an ambulance. You nodded, hiccuping as you started crying. It’s still hard to breathe, it’s hard to do anything but focus on the pain. You can’t feel your hand or your leg, the blood is getting everywhere and you’re sure there weren’t black spots on the floor before. 

“(Y/n)— hey, no, no,” There’s a black and blue suit in front of you and you lift your head as much as you can muster. “That’s good, keep your eyes open okay?” His suit is ripped, the goggles are cracked and you see his frantic eyes running across your body. “I’m gonna lift you and it’s gonna hurt, okay?” Nodding, he moves his hands underneath you and you shout as you’re lifted up. Your leg and hand sway with gravity, limp in the air and he apologizes. “Fuck, just— just stay awake, please.” He takes off in the air, flying as fast as his body could manage. 

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of him crashing into something. 

—

Mark listens to your heartbeat, his forehead pressed to the back of your hand to feel your warmth. Your other hand is in a cast, so is your leg but the doctors said that it should be healed soon enough thanks to the tech— he didn’t care for details, he just wants to know that you were going to live. 

He should've been there, he should’ve known— somehow. He should’ve gotten there faster. First Eve and now you. And the worst part, he had to call your parents to explain.

The door opens and he expected it to be them but it wasn’t. “You can’t be here kid,” Cecil says and Mark’s not sure if he’s relieved or not. 

“Those other Invincibles know about this place,” He shakes his head, not moving from your hand. “They could come here. Kill him to get at me,” He looks at you, an oxygen mask over your face, your neck bruised and his grip on your hand tightens a little. “He needs me.”

“We’re losing this, Mark. The world needs you.” He shakes his head, resting his forehead back against your palm as his eyes start to water again. 

“You’ve got every superhero on the planet fighting for you, right now.” 

“Mark… Oliver’s out there. Your mother is out there.”

“I said no!” Cecil sighs and leaves without a word. He sniffs, looking at you again. They’d washed the blood off, they’d gotten rid of the soiled clothes. You looked like you were asleep, peaceful. Your breathing was normal and he could hear you snoring like you always did when you were drained. 

The doors open and he looks up, ready to yell at Cecil but instead he sees your mom and dad. He stands on instinct, eyes still glossy and sniffs. 

“I’m so sorry,” He cries, watching as your mother rushes to your side, your dad close behind. 

“My baby,” She cries, stroking your face. “Wha— what happened, Mark?” She looks at him before slowly looking at him. Her breath hitched and he hangs his head, ashamed. 

“There’s alternate versions of me trying to take over the world,” He explains, trailing his eyes back to you. “One of them was in London and found him.”

“And you stopped him, right?” Your dad asks and Mark slowly nods. “Good. Go, we… we got him.” He wants to argue, he really does but instead he slowly nods again, grabbing his mask from the railing. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He promises and they nod.

Your mom grabs his hand and smiles up at him. “Be safe, Mark.” 

—

When you wake up, Mark isn’t there and neither are your parents. The clock shows that it’s well past midnight and you groan, a sharp pain shooting up from your leg up to your back. The hospital monitor picks up and you blink, staring up the ceiling. Lifting your arm, you squint at the metal cast and wiggle your fingers. You didn’t think you’d be able to do that anymore. Sitting up, you carefully remove the blanket and look at the similar cast on your leg. It hurts to move, but you can move it. 

The door opens and you see Eve. 

“Hey,” She smiles, flying. Her leg is in the same cast as yours. That’s pretty neat. “Glad you’re awake, it was getting boring in my room.”

“Hey,” You smile back. “How long was I… sleeping?”

“Two weeks,” She inhales, sitting on a chair next to your bed. “Mark stops by everyday, your parents too. They’re in a hotel nearby, last I heard.”

Carefully, you actually look around the room. This isn’t like any hospital you’ve seen before. “Where am I?” 

“Oh,” She slowly looks around the room. “This is the GDA, it has a hospital meant for heroes and sometimes their families.” She chuckled as she gestured to you. “Mark made them admit you.” She adds, now looking down. You smile, messing with the fabric of the bedsheet. “Do you want me to contact your parents? They won’t be able to get inside for another hour but at least they can know?”

You nod without hesitation. “Yes, please, thank you.” She nods and leaves the room. Two weeks, that’s a long time but then again you could’ve died. Holy shit, you could’ve died.  

The door opens again and you expect to see Eve, but instead you’re crushed underneath Mark. He holds you as tightly as he can without hurting and you can feel the tears flowing from his eyes down to your neck. “Mark?” You look down at him, carefully wrapping your arms around him. The heart monitor speeds up again and you curse at it, trying to see if it’s connected to a wire you can remove. 

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” He cries and you notice the bandages around his head. 

“What happened to you?” He shakes his head at that, holding you tighter. Okay, he doesn’t want to talk about that right now. That’s fine. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He sniffs. “I’m fine. Oh— shoot—“ He lifts up, wiping his face. “I’m probably crushing you, I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head and carefully move to the side, creating a space for him to lay down. “I’m fine, Mark. Whatever doctors they have at this place are sick. I feel fine.” Catching the way his eyes dip down to your arm, you show off your cast. He nods, ghosting his fingers over the metal before his other hand curls into yours. 

“I…” He breathes, slowly shaking his head. “I was so worried when you called me. Eve had just gotten attacked by one of me and then— and then you. God, I…” His eyes find yours and he closes his eyes. “I thought you were going to die.”

You shrug as if you hadn’t been terrified that night. “I’m fine now. Let’s focus on that,” 

“Okay,” He nods and then looks around the room. “Did you… speak to Eve?”

“Not really,” You shrug. “She said she was happy I was awake, how long I was out, and then went to call my parents.” Mark nods again and starts messing with his shirt. You try to not look at his bruises on his face, just like he tries not to look at your fading ones on your neck. You look at his hand, watching as he pulls and tugs at the fabric. 

“When we broke up,” He starts and you look up at him again. “Me and Eve, I mean. We broke up because… she thought I was bringing you into the relationship.” 

“I don’t understand,” Mark squints as if the memories are so embarrassing he can’t bring them up again. 

“She— I would bring you up, a lot. She said it was nearly every conversation and she was convinced that I was… in love with…you,” Carefully his eyes meet yours before they snap to that damned heart monitor. When his eyes find yours, you look away. “And I didn’t believe her until you called me. When I saw you, lying there, something snapped. I couldn’t lose you. I was so afraid.” Softly, he starts crying and you lean closer to him, wiping his tears away with your thumb. “When you were out,  Cecil said that the world needed me and—“ He shakes his head, grabbing your hand. “It clicked that you were right there, my whole world.”

“Mark…” You trail. 

“I love you, (Y/n).” He says before you can find something to say. “And not in the way we always say it. I love you, love you.”

“I love you, too.” Mark laughs, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. You were hoping for the lips, but that’s fine too. Thankfully, when he pulls away, he leans down and carefully kisses you. Holding his face, Mark crawls on top of you but you make him lay down in the spot next to you. “Am I heavy?” He laughs and you snort, shaking your head before opening your eyes. 

“No, I just wanted you to be comfortable,” He hums, eyes on your lips before he crashes his lips back to yours. 

The door opens and he pulls away, half expecting it to be Cecil or Eve, maybe even a doctor but no. It was far worse. 

“Mom!” You both say, staring at your mother, your father and Debbie. Your father removes his baseball cap and covers his laugh while your mother and Debbie giggle. You fall back, covering your face and Mark rushes to his feet. 

“We uh… we can explain,” He hurriedly says but your mother waves her hand, pushing him out of the way

“Mark, we been knew that you two would get together. Now move, my son is finally awake.”

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[hubbvrd]

Can we have more dad joe plsss🥹I thoroughly enjoyed that!

Father daughter day | JB9

summary — in which Joe and his daughter spend an afternoon together as father and daughter

pairing — joe burrow x his daughter

words — 2246

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"And you're really sure I can go?" y/n asked again as she reluctantly let her husband Joe help her into her jacket.

It was Saturday afternoon and y/n was meeting up with her friends for a little girls' day out, which had definitely been lacking since she and her friends had each started a family with the Bengals players.

Joe gave his wife a serious but loving look. She had repeated the question countless times over the last twenty minutes, to which Joe had given her the same answer every time, as he was doing now.

"Yes, you can do that. You deserve the day with the girls and besides..." he paused briefly and looked down between his legs at your little daughter, who was standing between Joe's legs grinning broadly and holding on to the fabric of his jogging bottoms, looking up at him.

She was the spitting image of her father, so the question of whether she and the famous Joe Burrow might be related didn't even need to be asked.

"...besides, are we going to be alright or Butterfly?" he asked as he looked lovingly down at his daughter.

Because Harper had been nicknamed Butterfly ever since she had grown up in y/n's belly. According to Joe, the little one had never made her presence felt like a kickboxer or a soccer player, but had been very gentle against y/n's touch, which had felt like a butterfly to him - which was somehow really the case.

Harper nodded her head vigorously, causing her little pigtails of blonde hair to swing wildly back and forth. She had a pretty good head of hair for her three and a half years, which was often a source of despair.

Because Harper hated sitting still and having her hair tamed, so y/n and especially Joe - who found it particularly difficult to be strict with his little butterfly - had difficulties.

"Yes mommy, you can go and have fun. Daddy and I have fun too! Lots of fun!" little Burrow giggled and gave her mother a big grin.

Her mother's mouth twisted slightly and she seemed to think for a moment. Joe, who was able to decipher this face immediately, nudged his little daughter gently on the arm, who immediately understood what her father wanted.

"But not as much fun as you, of course, mommy. You'll do more fun things."  

Joe nodded in agreement and he and his daughter put on the same warm smile, causing Y/n to giggle softly.

"I know you'll have a lot more fun than I will, but next time we'll all have twice as much fun together, yeah?"

Y/n squatted down to be at eye level with her daughter. The little one's blue eyes gleamed with joy and excitement, which y/n could completely understand.

Harper was a daddy's girl through and through, who could never get enough of spending time together and especially alone with her father.

"Both of you be nice and don't get into mischief, will you?"

Harper began to nod wildly, so that her pigtails began to bob up and down wildly on her head. "No way, mommy. You know that."

Joe agreed with his wife, too, because what choice did he and Harper have? After all, they couldn't tell y/n what had already happened when the two of them had been alone a few times.

After all, one or two flower pots had been broken in the garden when Joe had tried to teach his daughter how to play football.

Or once the two of them had played hide and seek in the house, where Harper had jumped out of hiding and scared her father so badly that he had pulled down a mirror, which had broken and the two of them had literally raced to the nearest furniture store to get a new one so that y/n would never know what had happened.

After y/n had said goodbye to her daughter and husband with a kiss and a hug each and the front door slammed shut a few seconds later, Joe and Harper held their breath for a moment and listened.

It took a few seconds for the muffled sound of the car door closing, the engine starting and the car pulling out of the driveway, then it was completely silent and Joe and Harper were alone.

"Okay, what do we do?" Joe grinned as he rubbed his hands together and then lifted his daughter up with a sweeping motion, who squealed softly and then buried her hands in Joe's hair, giggling and giving her father a new and funny hairstyle.

In fact, Harper gave the best head massages for her three and a half years, which Joe especially loved when he was lying on the sofa and Harper was watching her favorite show and tossing her father's hair in her mind.

"Pizza!" Harper exclaimed enthusiastically as Joe carried his daughter into the open-plan living and dining area.  

"I think that's a good idea." The quarterback set his daughter down at the kitchen island and began looking for the flyer for his favorite pizza place in the drawer next to it.

Pizza was more or less an integral part of Father Daughter Day, because if there was no pizza, it wasn't an official Father and Daughter Day.

After a quick browse through the flyer, the two quickly decided on a pepperoni pizza, which was also ordered within seconds.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for the pizza to arrive, which would take a while as the pizzeria had just opened and had countless orders coming in.

While Harper fiddled with the creased corner of the rather battered flyer - as it had already been opened and closed countless times - Joe quickly connected his cell phone to the music system in the living room.

And before long, "you've got a friend in me" from Toy Story was playing from the speakers.

Toy Story was their favorite movie series and Harper especially loved the music to countless Disney movies, dozens of which she knew by heart and sang whenever she felt like it.

When the first notes of the song rang out, her blue eyes grew wide.

"How about a dance, Butterfly?" Joe grinned and lifted his daughter back onto the floor before holding out his hand to ask her to dance.

Giggling, the three and a half year old grabbed her father's hand before the two of them began to dance slowly around the living room.

Harper tried to follow her father's steps with concentration, her forehead slightly furrowed and the tip of her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

In fact, Joe often caught his daughter with her tongue hanging slightly out of her mouth. She did this almost every time she concentrated.

Whether she was outside drawing with chalk, learning something new, pushing her peas back and forth on her plate or on the sidewalk so hip that she didn't touch a groove in the stones.

When "Let It Go" came on next, Harper ran over to the couch table, where she grabbed two remotes and handed one to Joe.

Because not a single song could top "Let it go", so every time the song came on - no matter where they were - the two of them put on a little performance.

Just like now, the two of them stood next to each other on the sofa - it was their shared stage - where they bellowed the lyrics loudly into their microphones and had so much fun that they sang all kinds of songs until the pizza delivery man who rang the doorbell interrupted their little performance and more or less brought them back down to earth.

"The best pizza in the world," Harper mumbled, placing her hand on her small stomach, which was now clearly filled with pizza.

Only the white box and the pizza crust - which Harper didn't like - suggested that she and her father had just eaten a large pizza together.

"Oh yeah, but don't tell your mommy," smirked Joe, who put his arm around his daughter and gently pulled her closer, so that Harper rested her blonde mop of hair on her father's stomach and sighed with pleasure.

"Mommy's pizza is great, but not as great as the pizza here, but that's our secret too, I promise. Because we're secret agents with lots of secrets," Harper whispered as she hiccupped slightly.

Smiling, Joe gently kissed the top of his daughter's head. Sometimes he couldn't believe what a wonderful daughter he and his wife actually had.

Harper was a really sweet and adventurous girl who loved to explore the world and get up to mischief.

"How about a little power nap?" asked the quarterback, who had clearly shoveled in too many slices of pizza, as he felt the tiredness rolling over him slightly while his stomach was filling up quite heavily.

"No, Daddy. Secret agents don't do powenaps. Besides, you still have a job to do."

Before Joe could say anything back, Harper had already jumped up and run out of the room.

Every now and then the little girl would move as fast as a bouncer, so that you only had to blink once and she was gone.

Joe heard her running up the stairs and fiddling around quietly in her room for a moment, she seemed to be looking for something.

While his daughter was in her room, he began to remove the pizza box and the traces of salami and cheese from the sofa with a wet cloth, before grabbing a few blankets and cushions, which he spread out on the floor and began to build a small cave to make it a little more adventurous and cozy for the two of them.

He also picked up one or two new children's books that he had recently bought, such as a flashlight and a string of lights.

Just as he had finished and was proudly inspecting his work - the cave was a little crooked and didn't look like it would hold up for too long - Harper stumbled back into the living room.

"Wow, Daddy!" she enthused, carefully stepping closer to her father as she examined the cave.

"Secret agents need a good hiding place, don't they?" he asked, smiling as he looked down at his daughter, who was holding a small suitcase with a picture of Anna, Elsa and Olaf on it. "What's that?"

"Grandma gave it to me yesterday. There's something great in it, come and I'll show it to you in the hiding place."

Her warm little hand carefully slipped into her father's hand before she pulled him into the cave with her, where the two of them made themselves comfortable among the countless cushions in all different sizes and colors.

Harper opened the suitcase and revealed its contents to her father, which consisted of countless colorful children's nail polishes.

"Wow, that's a lot of colors. Grandma had a hard time choosing, huh?"

"Yes, but this way I can always wear something different!" Harper grinned proudly and picked out two colors.

Purple and turquoise.

"Daddy can you do my nails for me?" With her sweetest look, she looked up at her father, a look she knew she could completely and easily look around her father's finger, because Joe could never resist that look.

"Of course, but I have to tell you that I'm not a pro at it."

In fact, he had never once picked up the nail polish himself before, his wife Harper had always painted his nails while he watched.

But it couldn't be that difficult, could it?

"I always want to alternate purple and turquoise," Harrer told her father as she placed her hands on the small case and Joe opened the small bottles to carefully paint his daughter's nails.

This actually worked quite well, so that he only accidentally painted the skin around the nails a little bit a few times, causing Harper to giggle quietly.

"Wow, Daddy!" Harper gushed a few minutes later as she looked at her colorful nails. Her blue eyes shone and a broad grin adorned her face.

"Did it turn out well?"

"Yes!" Harper exclaimed enthusiastically, briefly blowing on each nail to get them dry faster - she had seen her mother do it. "Can I ask you something, Daddy?"

"Of course, anything you want, Butterfly."

Joe's voice drifted softly through the cave and the pillow rustled slightly behind him as he sat up slightly.

"Can I do your nails too?"

Again, Harper put on her look that Joe couldn't say no to.

But did Harper even need that look?

Before Joe had become a father and a child had asked him if he could paint his nails, he would have said no for sure. But now? Now he didn't even have to hesitate and so, barely fifteen minutes later, he had purple turquoise nails, just like Harper.

And after the two of them had finished their little nail painting session, they had snuggled up together in the den.

Harper's head back on Joe's stomach, while he had his arm wrapped around her and in his other hand was holding one of the new books he had bought and was now letting his daughter read.

And it wasn't long before they both fell asleep with a contented and happy smile on their faces, reviewing the successful father-daughter day in their dreams...

[st4rpiece]

nipple piercings pt. 1

NSFW

characters: luffy, zoro, and sanji x fem! reader summary: the monster trios reaction to your new nipple piercings content warnings: established relationships, nipple sucking, breast play others: lowercase intended, not proofread, pictures from pinterest

_____

Monkey D. Luffy

you had recently gotten them done, so while they healed, you wore thin clothing instantly drawing luffy's attention. he was immediately fascinated by your new piercings.

he'd probably poke at them with a childlike curiosity, his eyes wide with wonder. "wow, these are so cool! do they hurt?" he'd ask, genuinely intrigued. surprisingly, as you explain the sensation and the reason behind getting them, luffy would listen intently, absorbing every word.

as the days went by, luffy would occasionally bring up the piercings in conversations, always with the same level of excitement. "babe, show me those cool piercings again," he'd say, his eyes sparkling with interest. he'd honestly never get tired of seeing them.

your first time fucking after getting them ignited a side of luffy you rarely saw in bed. luffy was extra careful and attentive as his hands trailed up your body before resting on your breast. his calloused hands cupping them as his thumb softly ran across the piercing, tracing its outline.

"does it feel good?" you nod, back arching, pushing your breast further into his hands. without warning he'd roughly flick the piercings, soaking in your reaction with a mischievous grin.

"i wonder how they taste," he'd say before leaning in to give them a teasing lick, his warm breath sending shivers down their spine. the saltiness of your skin mixed with the metallic taste of the metal bar tasted so good. he licked, sucked, and bit, giving your nipple the attention they deserved.

Roronoa Zoro

zoro would have a more intense reaction to your new piercings. you quickly ran to go show him the minute you and nami returned back to the sunny. you found him resting against the headboard of your shared bed.

his eye opened the second you entered the room, waiting for a kiss (something you always do after returning to him) instead you just stood there at the foot of the bed with a mischievous grin.

"what?" he'd asked, instead of answering you lifted up your shirt and showed off your new piercings.

he would stare intently at your bare tits and the contrasting silver bar with a playful smirk on his lips. "didn't think you had it in you," he'd tease, his voice a deep rumble laced with arousal.

"come here, i want to get a better look," the second you are close, he would pull you over his lap in a straddling position. while his hands rested on your hip, his eyes never left your breast. he wanted nothing more than to take them into his mouth and hear how you sounded to a new sensation. but first, he had to make sure you were okay. be began throwing questions at you.

did it hurt?

how much did they cost?

and lastly, how sensitive are you right now?

once he knows that you are okay, his grip on your waist will tighten, pulling your body closer.

without reserve, his lips would pepper you with kisses trailing from your neck down to the piercings, giving them a gentle tug with his teeth. causing you to grip his hair releasing a moan from the sensation, one he hadn't heard before.

"mmh, i like that," he'd grunt against their skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "these suit you well, baby." his voice husky as he lifted his eyes wanting to watch your reactions closely as his fingers tugged and pulled on one while his mouth bit and sucked on the other. his eyes darken with lust as he takes in the pleasure written on their face.

Vinsmoke Sanji

before parting ways with nami you tell her to send a message to sanji about you needing him in your room. you sat on the bed, nervous and excited ready to show sanji how you spent your evening.

sanji, ever the romantic, would be utterly captivated by your new piercings. "holy shit baby," his eyes would widen in surprise and admiration, a very noticeable blush spreading across his face. "how did you manage to make yourself even hotter," he'd say, his voice filled with genuine awe.

"may i?" you nodded, even though you were still pretty sore, you craved his touch. he'd gently cup you breasts, his fingers brushing over the piercings with a feather-light touch. loving the contrast between your soft warm skin against the cool metal bar.

his touch would become more confident, his fingers teasing the piercings with a mix of tenderness and desire. causing you to let out a kitten-like moan. which further turns him on, "i want to make you feel incredible," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your skin.

his lips would follow the path of his fingers, kissing and licking around the piercings, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. "look at how swollen these bud are," he says, pinching your nipples harder.

"sanji," you managed to moan out.

"hold on my love, i'm just getting started," with lips still attached to your breast, his hands toy with the band of your shorts, dipping inside skimpy underwear.

_____

I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and liking my work >.<. it means a lot!!

I'm working on part 2 atm still, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!!

in the meantime, feel free to check out my kid one shot >.<!

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 🍂 SKZ + WAYS THEY SHOW “ I LOVE YOU ” !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ ot8 x gn!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre: fluff warnings: not many… just some mentions of food & kissing <3

this is an old repost from my deleted blog !

방찬/BANG CHAN.

chan is the most perfect boyfriend you could ask for. he’s the type to never let you lift a finger when he’s around you. whether it be fixing a broken pipe in the house or carrying all of the groceries; it wasn’t a problem for him at all. he may get consumed in his work sometimes but that didn’t mean he spends less quality time with you. he’d call you throughout the day to check up on you and tell you how much he misses you. he’d share what he was working on and update you on small things. always smothering you once he comes home— no seriously, he does not let you breathe. he’d pepper kisses all over your face whilst having you wrapped tightly in his arms. the warmth of his loving embrace made you feel the safest and utmost protected.

리노/LEE KNOW.

lovesss taking you out on fun interactive dates. movies, bowling, mini golf, fruit-picking, and candlelit dinners were a just a few to name. minho enjoyed going to small family owned restaurants, he loved desserts and would order a milkshake with two straws on each side. you’d be playing footsie under the table like little kids, teasing you while staring into each others eyes trying not to burst out laughing. he loves you just as much as he loves his cats and that’s saying a whole lot. he has a picture of you playing with soonie and dori as his lock screen, it was probably the cutest pic he’s ever taken of you. he calls you and his cats a little family >\\< he loves the way they all get along with you and it affirms even more that you really are the one for him.

창빈/CHANGBIN.

constantly showers you with dozens upon dozens of compliments. could write a full-fledged novel on simply everything he adores about you. he’ll write sweet notes from time to time and leave them in random areas for you to find. your relationship with him always kept you guessing, he was so full of pleasant surprises. he noticed the littlest details about you and could practically read you like a book. he knew immediately when you were in a slump, it became his personal mission to cheer you up. is super touchy feely with you but does it with the most pure intentions. pressing feathery kisses along your hands and the insides of your palms, then trails further up your arm. he loved seeing how flustered you’d get by it, only wanting to keep doing it more.

현진/HYUNJIN.

treats you as his artistic muse. his deep infatuation with you fed his inspiration with new ideas constantly. his paintings were a reflection of his mind, his most inner thoughts and emotions. almost every painting he’s done was inspired by you in some way, shape, or form. art and photography are one his favorite hobbies so naturally he’s going to always wanna snap pictures of you. whenever you two go on dates he takes pics of you without you knowing, smiling to himself and thinking how lucky he is to have you. he tells you often how much you mean to him, he was a very vocal partner. you didn’t need to ask for reassurance because hyunjin would just give it to you anyway. it was like he could read your mind, he understood you on a intuitive and spiritual level.

한/HAN.

he is completely and authentically himself when he’s with you. your relationship is the most easy going thing in his life, he couldn’t imagine life without you. he loves that your humor is the same and you’re both always goofing off. he feels most accomplished if he can make you laugh until your stomachs start hurting. almost everything was a joke to him but the love he had for you was definitely not. he share’s everything with you, his clothes, favorite snacks, deepest secrets, nothing off limits for him. never stops talking about you with the other members, every little thing reminds of him you so he has to announce it. he could be doing something serious and then one of your inside jokes would randomly pop in his head, smiling like an idiot to himself. he was so proud to have you as his lover and best friend.

필릭스/FELIX.

the most sweet, nurturing, individual in the universe. put a million heart emojis next to your contact name and never fails each time to get a stomach full of butterflies every time he’s with you. hears a song that reminds him of you and instantly sends it; will make monthly playlists for you too. he gets lost in your eyes all the time, can’t help but feel his heart beat out his chest by your ethereal beauty. you could be having an in-depth conversation with him and he’d zone out from just looking at you. he can’t stand being away from you when he’s gone and gets real sad and lonely if he can’t hold you >.< will send you LENGTHY messages of what he loves most about you and how much he wants to be with you. if he can’t physically be there, he’ll do all he can to still feel like he’s right beside you.

승민/SEUNGMIN.

thoughtful gestures were his love language. he would notice your shoe is untied as you’re both walking and stop everything he’s doing to fix it for you. will do anything you ask him to at the drop of a hat. does chores and tasks around the house when you aren’t feeling up to it, he never complains about it either which you love. lots and lots of hugs and kisses !! he especially loves hugging you from behind and resting his head within the crevice of your shoulder. he’d kiss your knuckle before dancing with you in the kitchen and acting like an old married couple. the two of you would be slow dancing and lock eyes, your lips would collide as you both sway to the melody of the song. it was soft moments like these that proved seungmin owned all of your love.

아이엔/JEONGIN.

very much into showing PDA and lots of it. doesn’t really care about what the other members think when he touches or kisses you in front of them. likes to give you unexpected forehead and neck kisses, intertwining his fingers with yours while doing so. he bought you a necklace with his initial on it as a gift and you never took it off since the day he gave it to you. whenever he’s gone for long periods of times that necklace would get you through it all. he’d also buy matching couples pajamas and plan a night in where you do face masks and watch movies (^o^). late night cuddling was his forte; you’d be all tangled up in bed together and he’d leave short series of pecks to your cheek until you lull asleep in his arms.

[hollowsart]

And with this, I'm done. I can't think of any more designs to do for my Diamond Swap AU concept. [read it here]

White tries to blend in on earth with her new appearance and name "Crystal Quartz" or just "Crystal" for short.

fun random factoid: I call the Peridot, Pericat.. or Meowidot cuz of the "cat ear"-like hair I gave her lol

I actually reused a few old gem designs of mine for some of these btw, some had more aspects reused than others. Those gems being: Peridot, Bismuth, and Aquamarine.

here's some further info I came up with while I was working on these after that initial post:

Garnet's forced fusion has them looking like an imperfect fusion, think Malachite. They look wrong.

But when they reach that point of "We choose to fuse. We choose love. This is our choice now. Not yours." They look normal. like a "perfect fusion".

Perhaps… each consecutive reformation over the years, they grew to be more harmonious and in sync with one another. They didn't want to unfuse out of an inherent fear of repercussion even despite no longer being on homeworld and under Pink's control. they eventually learn to let go and unfuse now and again.. and learn to be on their own and explore each other individually.

They refuse in the end tho and find more peace with each other overtime. Which leads to their eventual perfect fusion as they have reached that peak level of loving themselves and becoming the one. the singularity.

No longer are they fused for entertainment of someone else, but choosing to be fused of their own free will.

Pink Sapphire and Ruby.. together as Rhodolite Garnet.

(I don't know if I'll ever draw their forced fusion form)

-----

Amethyst is both overcooked and didn't have enough resources to fully form, hence her slightly off proportions. (Her lower half is smaller than her upper half on top of just being way shorter than she should be)

If she was on Homeworld she would have been given limb enhancers. She hates when her appearance is noted as she struggles to overcome her own self-hate. Wishing she was made perfect.. like Jasper. However, overtime and with the help of her friends and Steven, she's begun her journey to self-love and self-acceptance.

Peridot learns of Amethyst's distaste for verbal observations first hand and refrains from it after learning her lesson.

-----

Pearl.. is what all pearls are like originally. she has no personalized customization. she is, default. Out of playful curiosity she was pushed onto White as a companion piece.

Pearl saw the misery of White's position under Pink's control, even if White couldn't see it herself (not fully and not well given her power of allowing others to control her like a puppet.. a toy) and helped to get White to leave and escape Homeworld. This caused Pink to throw the biggest tantrum.

Homeworld hasn't been the same since.

-----

the way Greg manages to get through to White when she's on earth and to connect with her is through his music. he plays his music and it resonates with her. She ends up spending more time with him due to the music bringing them together.

She sings along to his playing and it's magical. They share information about gems and humans.. and they share music and song.

A parallel to Rose & Greg.

music brings everyone together in some way

I had the image of her turning away from Greg and him panicking and just starts playing his guitar for her and it stops her. He starts singing a song for her and she slowly turns around to watch and listen.

Maybe she joins in, too.. Repeating a few lines with him.

He got her attention!!! he scored a point!!!

-----

Blue: ..It's no use starting another war. What would even be the point? It would only bring more misery, and that would only delay our progress even further.

Yellow: Right.. We need to focus on our colonies. Our work, and our.. roles. We must play along. We don't have the time to keep fretting over this.. little incident.

Pink: Oh? Has my favorite little plaything finally returned to me? But who played with you? You've changed your appearance, White.. What a shame.. you were perfect, but now? ..I'm sorry, but I don't think even a rejuvenation will fix you. We'll have to shatter and try again. We can always make more gems. Even diamonds if so desired, though finding the resources for another will take some time. I really wish you had stayed.. Wasn't it fun, White? Playing those games with me? Why did you leave? Don't you know how much that hurt me? Really.. I can't believe you'd go and hurt me like that, but.. You won't have to hurt me anymore now that you're back! In fact, you won't have to hurt anyone anymore! Now, come here and give me your gem~

Greg: your mother.. Crystal.. She was unlike any other woman I've ever met. In fact.. she was unlike any other gem I've ever met, too. She was.. different.. There was just something about her that made me want to get closer. To understand her. She may not be here anymore, but.. I'm real glad I was able to have spent time with her. Those are some precious memories that I'll treasure forever.

[shaunashipman]

here is the colouring tutorial i promised to go with my beginner's gifmaking tutorial.

to save image space, i've written up a simple explanation of how each adjustment layer works here, so i'm just going to over my colouring for these 4 different gifs.

as always, very image heavy underneath

there are many ways to get the same results and i'll use various methods usually just based on what i'm feeling at the moment. some of it is a little convoluted, but hopefully this will give you a rounded idea of how it all works so you feel more comfortable playing around with your own colouring

NADJA

this is the base gif with zero colouring adjustments, just resized and sharpened.

unless the base gif is already very bright, which doesn't often happen because directors nowadays are allergic to light, the first layer i add is always a brightness/contrast layer. i don't adjust any of the sliders, i just change the blending mode to "screen", and then adjust the opacity if needed. this gif was pretty dark, so i left it at 100%,

my next layers are always curves to even out the white and blacks. i use two curves layers, one for white and one for black. i used the white drop-picker and selected just below the lightshade on the lamp behind her, and for the black drop-picker i selected her hair near her neck which gives us this

it's already looking much better, it's not as green tinted, but i want to make the red of her dress pop a bit more. in order to do that without making her face too red, i'm gonna remove some of the yellow. so next i'm gonna add a selective colour layer, and under the yellow channel i moved the yellow slider to -5 and the black slider to -52. now

now that the yellow is reduced, i add another selective layer, and under the red i move the cyan slider to -66 and the black slider to +29. now the red of her dress pops and her face is still a realistic tone. when i first made the gif, i added the red selective layer first, then added another selective layer under it and adjusted the yellows to offset it. you can always shift layers around or add a new layer underneath as you go.

voila

TOMMY

here is our base gif

this scene is better lit than the nadja one, but i prefer bright and colourful gifs, so i'm gonna once again add a brightness/contrast level and keep it at 100%

and then the curves layers to even it all out. since there isn't a spot that is immediately noticeable as white, you can hold the alt button with the white dropper selected and it will highlight all the white/very near white pixels. you can also zoom real close in to select specific pixels. i selected a from the white area around his chin/mouth. the same process works for finding a black spot with the black dropper, and for that i selected from a dark spot in his hair

the curves layers evened it out but also made the gif a bit more red and warm toned, and since i've decided i want the end result to be more blue/green, so i'm gonna add a colour balance layer. in the shadows channel i moved the cyan/red slider to -16, and the yellow/blue slider to +11

now the gif already looks great, it's bright, skin tone is accurate, he's not washed out, but like i said i like my gifs colourful, so i'm gonna add two more selective colour layers. in the first i'm gonna adjust the greens, bringing the magenta slider to -87, and the black slider to +81. in the second layer i'm gonna adjust both the blues and cyans, because when you see blue in a gif it's rarely ever straight blue or straight cyan, so always adjust both. (you could adjust the blue and green in the same layer, but i prefer to do them separately in case i need to move the layers around)

now finally i'm gonna add a hue/saturation layer because i think the blue of his suit is too blue when the sky behind him is more cyan. (also, since you only have 256 different colours to work with, you don't want too many different colours otherwise it will distort the colouring.) in the blue channel i move the hue slider to -12 to make the blue a bit more cyan, and i also move the saturation to +38 to make it pop more

and voila

RHAENYRA

here is the base gif (this one is going to get very convoluted and imo best exemplifies what colouring gifs is like most of the time)

as always, a brightening layer set to screen

now the curves layers. for the white i clicked on her hair at the top of her head, and for the black i i clicked in the shadows to the left of her.

but as you can see, while it added contrast, it also made the gif more green tinted than it was. you could click around more, or manually adjust the red, green, and blue lines on the curves until it looks better but i decided to add a channel mixer layer instead. in the green channel i set the greens to -95, and in the blue channel i set the blue to -97

next i wanted to add a little contrast, but i find that using the contrast in brightness/contrast can saturate it too much, so instead i added a levels layer. first i adjusted the bottom bar, moving the right slider to 230 which reduces the overall brightness of the gif, so when i adjust the top bar it doesn't brighten the gif too much. on the top bar, i moved the right slider to 212, and the left slider to 9

now, i'd like it to be not exactly warm toned, but less cool, and while i could use colour balance or a photo filter, i'm instead going to add a gradient map, using the default gradient pink 08, and setting it to blend mode soft light at 50% opacity

next i just want to increase the blacks a little, so i'm gonna add a selective colour layer and under black i'm gonna set the black slider to +10

it's still not as warm as i'd like, so i'm gonna add a colour balance layer, in the midtones setting the cyan/red to +10 and the yellow/blue to -5

we're almost done, but i want to make her dress pop a bit more, so first i'm gonna add another selective colour to bring the yellows down a bit, setting the black slider to -15

and finally one more selective colour layer, in the reds, setting the cyan slider to -50, the yellow slider to +10, and the black slider to +15

voila

NATALIE

here's the base gif

as always the brightness/contrast layer set the screen

now the curves layer. for the white, i zoomed in and selected a pixel on her cheek under her right eye. for the black i the dark spot just above her head

now she's very yellow, so i added a channel mixer layer. in the red channel i set the reds to +88. in the blue channel i set the reds to +10

she's still a little too yellow for my liking, so i'm gonna add a hue/saturation layer, and under the yellows i'm gonna adjust the saturation to -60

finally, i want her to be a it brighter, so i'm gonna add another curves layer, but instead of using the drop, i'm going to manually adjust it. the two points along the line are where i selected it and then i dragged until it looked how i wanted. i start with the upper dot, which made it brighter and moved the line into an arch, and then selected at the lower end of the line and dragged in back closer to centre to add some darkness and contrast

voila

and that's how i do my colouring. it's generally all trial and error, using a layer to fix one thing and then needing another layer to fix something the previous layer did.

play around, have fun, see what works for you and what doesn't. it will take a while for you to develop your own method and style, and even then you'll come across scenes that make you question if you have any sills at all. you do, directors just hate us

have fun and feel free to ask any questions

[discountlittlebro]

Prince brothers??? Hello???

Older brother who is poised and put together, level headed and excelling in his lessons, good with words and can talk himself out of almost any bind. Ofcourse hes good in combat too if it should come to that, but he rarely has to resort to that. He’s so smart and knows so much and is the kings favorite son.

Younger brother who is messy and always late, who would rather be outside and playing than doing this lessons, which he’s falling behind in. He’s rowdy and loud and short tempered and often finds himself running his mouth and getting into scuffs with low lifes in the kingdom. Messy hair and scrapes all over his body.

Big brother who constantly has to pull him from fights where’s Hes definitely outnumbered and going to lose. Big brother who adores his little brother and wants to keep him safe but he’s such a brat and always rolling his eyes or making faces while his big brother talks.

“I don’t need you taking care of me all the time! I can handle myself, golden boy. Fuck off.”

“Would you stop acting like a brat for five minutes? You were not winning that fight, they outsized and outnumbered you.”

“Oh my gods! I would’ve been fine! I train with the knights, i can handle a few jerks with no real training. Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have some fucking meeting or something to be at? Shouldn’t you be by daddy’s side as his shiny little prince?”

Little brother scoffs, shoving past his big brother only to be pulled back the collar of his shirt and pinned to the grimey, alley wall. His wrists are wrapped easily in one hand and pinned above his head.

“Let go! You big jerk!”

“Stop it! I’m just trying to look out for you!” Big brother who pressed his forehead to his little brothers, forcing eye contact. “Why are you always so difficult? Just listen!”

“Go away!! Just leave me alone!”

“I can’t! I’ve tried, and I can’t. You don’t even…you have no idea…how hard it is..”

The younger pauses his squirming, looking up at the other with confused eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

The older Prince sighs, closing his eyes and keeping his forehead pressed to the other, his free hand finding its way under his brothers button up and squeezing at this hip.

“There’s something wrong with me, I know it. But you’re all I think of. My pretty little brother, with all your quirks and bad habits, you consume me. The restraint it takes to not take you…and everyday it gets harder.”

Little prince who is frozen in confusion, the fingers squeezing his hip new and foreign. This is different. This isn’t like when they train in the corridor together, or even like any of their scuffles they’ve had in the past. It feels…different. Realization starts to dawn over him.

“Are you infatuated with your fucking brother? Are you serious? That’s…oh my gods hilarious! The perfect son, the smart one, the one everyone fucking adores!” He laughs when his brother moves back and stares at the floor, face red.

“Do you touch yourself to thoughts of me?”

“Every night.” Older brother leans down, and buries his face into the younger’s neck. “Will you indulge me, little brother? Let me know what you sound like, what you taste like? Atleast once, just for my fantasies.”

His brother always was good with words, and now he was using them to make his head spin.

“I…we probably…shouldn’t…”

“Nobody will know. It can be between us, like when we were kids and you snuck extra cookies into bed. Or that time I covered for you with that stray cat. I miss that, when you would come to your big brother for everything? When you clung to me so desperately? You used to follow me like a puppy, surely you wouldn’t start to bite now, would you? Would you deny me the one thing I’ve ever asked of you?”

“I…that’s not fair it’s not the same I-“ his words are caught in his throat when his brother bites into the flesh on his neck. He couldn’t stop the little whimper that fell from his lips, his wrists were starting to go sore in his brothers grip.

“Stop running from me. I want to get along again, don’t you want us to get along?”

The hand on his hip has dipped down and past the waistband of his trousers. His brothers fingers, his mouth, touching and tasting him in ways he never imagined. He sounds so desperate, truely pleading for his little brothers affections again.

“Big brother…please.”

[sukunacest]

cw:: incest/abuse/breeding (implied)

olderbrother!suguru was all you had left after he killed your parents. they were abusive, useless monkeys who didn't need to exist in this world anymore

when suguru found out they were beating and starving you while he was away at jujutsu high, that was the catalyst to push him over the edge.

he came back home a few days early on spring break to surprise the family but it was HE who got surprised when he found you in a cage ):

you hadn't eaten in days and your parents blamed you for all their recent short comings and mishaps in life.

after suguru rescued you, he defected from jujutsu high. there was no longer a point in working to save or protect malicious people like your parents — no. all he had now was you and that's all he needed.

your sorcery was nowhere near as strong as his, but he would still help you and teach you to become stronger. he would appoint you as a leader in his cult, with the goal of ridding the world of people like your parents.

it would only be a few years later when you and suguru are living perfectly comfortably in the main hideout of the star religious group aka suguru's new cult.

you did have a leader role because you were the most important thing to him — therefore no one but him could tell you what to do, but you didn't have any actual duties like the lower level members.

suguru loved to keep you close at all times, especially during meetings he lead. he would often let you sit in his lap, idly doom scrolling on your phone.

one day there was important "elder business" being discussed and even though suguru promised you no secrets, he didn't allow you at this meeting.

"play with nanako and mimiko" he insisted with a smile and soft pat to your head. "i promise ill tell you everything you need to know later"

you frowned, feeling like you were being treated like a kid, but wouldn't dare argue with him. suguru saved you, took care of you for years. he knew what was best for you.

that same night, suguru called you to his chambers. he was kind and sincere to you, as he always was, unlike your parents. he gave no warning to what he was about to say.

"i love you, you know that right?"

you would smile and nod "of course"

"good" suguru approached you, giving you that signature head pat. "the other elders made me realize something today.... something about how special you are. and how i hate those monkeys"

you kept his gaze, letting him continue.

"i was reminded how i need to make sure our pure blood gets passed down — none of that non-sorcerer," he made a face of disgust "shit getting mixed in with ours." he gently cupped your chin, making your heart beat ever rapidly.

"mimiko and nanako are wonderful and i love them as my own but..." he trailed off.

"they're not actually yours," you finished for him.

"...yes, exactly"

you walked over to his bed, still holding his gaze and sat down. "so what would you like me to do, brother? i know manami likes you-"

he immediately cuts you off with a kiss. you gasp, taken aback for a moment until you kiss him back, letting him take control and gently push you back into the bed.

"sugu... we cant" you breathe, once he pulls back. his purple eyes locking onto yours. "im not good enough for you"

"sh-shhh" he shushes you with a finger to your lips and a calming peck to your forehead. "you. are. perfect."

and who were you to deny him? you melt into his touch and your heart is overjoyed that suguru is showing you exactly how he intends to make an heir (or two or three or four) and keep his bloodline pure. brother knows best.

[lostintransist]

The Second Duchess

Y'all, Noona's brain worms got me again. AO3 | This will be two parts. | This will end bitter. A/B/O dynamics, vaguely victorian, there will be an actual ghost in part two, odd power dynamics.

When John found you, a foreign lady, visiting a neighboring earl, he thought he had found redemption.

His first wife had been designationless, like you. He and his pack, Johnny, Simon, and Kyle, had ill-treated the first duchess. Her final words, left in an open letter, lingered over them all, even now.

You were supposed to be better. Every tale of you spoke of your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty. I found them all to be lies. When my corpse haunts your memories, may you think on it with more fondness than you ever did me.

The people who claimed the right of parentage over you had sent you to a foreign court in the hopes that someone would take pity on you. Foolish attempt really. No one at home wanted you; no one here would either.

All your life you had been discarded. Set aside for your lack of designation, you learned to cope. The scarred skin at your neck where your gland had failed to grow in the womb became your favorite place to decorate. If not with necklaces, then with art. You had learned how to paint on your body and create wreaths that wound round your neck; you set new standards because you could not do much else. If people were going to stare, why not give them something to look at?

Running wild became your favorite way to use your lack of designation. You could ride a horse side saddle or sitting forward like a man. You could ride better than most men in either seat. The stable hands at home got used to a horse disappearing for a few hours. You always stabled the horses you used, fed them, and brushed them. They stopped complaining after they saw how well you cared for the animals.

You hired art teachers and painted nude bodies. Music teachers taught you how to listen to the lewd songs sung in the taverns and play them at dinner parties. Languages were mastered; the curses were the things you memorized first. The cooks blustered when you demanded to be taught, but when you threatened to hire someone to teach you they quickly gave in.

The maids taught you on the sly the cant and candor of the working class. When they told you of the needs in the community you worked directly with the women who headed each group in need. Connections were gathered like coins in a purse and guarded like a hen over her chicks.

Without quite knowing how you became a woman of influence. A whisper or a word in the right ear and you could turn the tide on harmful policies. If you declared a business untenable for their use of child labor or the way they treated their workers the working class would not patronize them again.

That same level of leverage never breached the bubble of the aristocracy; hence, how you found yourself shipped away to start again.

The weeks warning your mother had given you had been enough for any in your contact to fire off letters to kin and foe alike of your coming. Even letters to foes told of your abilities to conquer changes.

Dock workers had a penchant for overindulging in your country. Men overindulging left women and children bereft of comfort and stability. You had been working at the underpinnings of fact before you had been shipped off.

No one noticed where you wandered, even here in this new country. No one cared. Just this morning you had sat down with the head of the laundress of the city to see what pieces you could shift. Their letter had arrived first, and tending to their needs would become your first priority. They needed childcare.

Children often needed tending and older children needed to be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic. An aging governess or two could be convinced to play school teachers and a maid without a reference could become a tender. Most of the legwork would arise from connecting with the women who would care for and teach the children. The juxtaposing issue would be where to house them and the children during the day. The price per child needed to be reasonable to the laundress and enticing to the governesses and the maid.

Censure, while a familiar disrespect, never became easier to bear. It bit at your flesh like the slap of hands. You had been relegated to the piano in the corner of the room while the other women partook in after-dinner sherry.

You hated sherry. You hated all alcohol really but sherry most of all. It tastes of lies and disappointment in its syrupy sweetness. Shuttering those memories, you focused on playing through a key change and into a jaunty tune; lewd would be a more accurate word, for the song you had learned down at the docks.

All these thoughts swirled through your head as your fingers played without you. Being so deep in thought you failed to notice the men had rejoined the party.

The knuckles rapping the top of the piano before your eyes brought you back to your body. Your motions paused the last notes you played lingering in the air. It is doubtful anyone was listening to you anyway.

A broad man leaned against the piano. His hair was cut short and sprinkled with gray. A neatly maintained beard, sun-kissed wrinkles around his eyes, as well as the fine cut of his coat completed the look of a lord. Being unfamiliar with this county’s aristocracy you offered a demure smile.

“Can I help you, my lord?”

“Where did a thing like you learn a tune like that?” His voice is rich and cadence firm.

“It is astounding the things musicians will teach you for the right incentive.” Settling your hands back to the keys you began to play a medley of your favorite drinking songs.

“Why do you not hide it?” His voice is as a surprise as it is unexpected.

Decorum meant different things here. Like it being acceptable to ask about one’s secondary gender.

“Why would I hide something I am not ashamed of, my lord? I am not causing harm to others by existing,” you lift a brow as you glance at him quickly.

He stared at the paint ringing your neck. The style of dresses here, that your great aunt had draped you in despite your protests, involved low necklines and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The corset cinched around you held up the dress. You had painted flowers and vines. Now, if anyone stared overlong you could assume they were observing your skill with a brush and not the scar where your scent gland should be.

Transitioning into a light, airy tune that has been well accepted by “higher” society you stole glances at the lord. You had yet to be introduced, but his dismissal of decorum intrigued you. Not many men approached you for a chat, even less without being introduced as an oddity first.

“Would you take a turn around the room with me?”

And there went your interest. Like with anyone who did not conform to society’s standards, you were propositioned every so often. Pursing your lips, you don’t look at him again.

“If you can gain an introduction before I depart for the night, I will consider it.” Focusing back on your fingers you played around a key change into a moving piece.

This bit of music sounded a bit like weeping when you played it.

He would not find your aunt anywhere near this room. She had consumed a fair amount of dairy in the soup course and would be leaving rancid deposits for the maids to clean in the morning. Once she felt well enough to travel she would send someone to collect you to the carriage. No one else here could claim acquaintance to the point of introductions.

As you predicted the lord could be seen drifting from person to person questioning and pointing toward you where you played still. All shook their heads and peered around for your aunt. Nearing forty minutes later a maid approached you, hands clasped neatly in front of her white frock.

“Ma’am, your aunt awaits you in the carriage,” her voice is mouse quiet even as her eyes dart to and for.

“Thank you for telling me. Can you inform the butler I will need my things?”

The notes lingered before dying, suffocated under the volume of conversation. The lord noticed though. As you slipped around seats and finally into the front hall, he followed. The aged butler held out your shawl, gloves, and hat.

One glove on and buttoned at the wrist you started on the other one when he appeared. The lord gave a near-silent dismissal to the butler. When you turned you found your hat and shawl held hostage.

“My things, my lord,” your hand extended for your things.

“While I was not able to obtain a formal introduction, I wanted to introduce myself. Duke John Price, at your service.”

Plucking your bonnet from his hand, you hum. Duke Price glared at you as tied it in place.

“How wonderful I avoided the misfortune of being introduced to a duke then being as lowly as I am, hmm?” You glanced at his face.

His sun-kissed wrinkles are now plucked with frustration.

“Will you be returning my shawl or shall I brave the night with bare shoulders, Duke Price?”

You let the title remind him of his place in the scheme of life.

The blue of his eyes reminded you of the center of a flame, scorching in its heat. You saw the decision in the tilt of his head. Standing stiller than the statues you saw dotting this land, you did not fight when he settled the shawl around your shoulders.

“Travel safe. I look forward to our upcoming introduction,” Duke Price held to the end of the shawl as you stepped back.

“Must not have much to look forward to in this country,” you let derision drip from your tone.

One more step back and you are free. A hand behind your back finds the doorknob and you are out. Now the footmen are looking to the door as you descend the stairs.

“What kept you?” Your great aunt’s voice bites from the dark of the carriage.

“It took some time for the butler to gather my things,” you lie. Climbing in and sitting forward on the bench to peer out the door window, Duke Price watches you from the door.

Sliding back the darkness hides you from view.

John fired off a letter before the sun had risen. I have found her. I will return when wed.

It took weeks before he secured your acquaintance. He tried though, gods, the way he tried. You would have laughed if he didn’t disrupt so many damn meetings.

A local Chaplin had agreed to offer room and board to the two governesses and the two maids who would be watching and teaching the children. A different church, whose Bishop agreed, would serve as the care space and classroom. The two churches would have no fees, but negotiating the prices that would remain fair for the laundresses and the women caring for the children became the sticking point.

The women all raised their voices. It was as if they could shout a little louder than their neighbor they might be clearly heard. In times like these, you were grateful for your nose blindness. Someone had once explained that the overlapping scents of anger reminded them of a barn fire, acrid and dense.

You finished finalizing the numbers on your page before standing. Snatching up your mini abacus, because math in your head forever alluded you, you placed it in a pocket of your skirt. Both hands lifted your skirt. Once your feet could move freely, you stepped onto the chair and then onto the long table where the discussion had devolved.

Both boots planted firmly you released your skirt and shoved fingers in your mouth to whistle. The piercing sound cut through all of the noise. All of the women sat down and glowered at each other, and you.

Movement at the door of the room tipped your annoyance into rage. Duke Price stood in the doorway. This was the fourth meeting he had appeared in.

“The Duke of Price has two seconds to be gone from this room or he will be funding this project for a year.”

Your pointed glare and sharp words caused all the women at the table to turn and do the same. These were proud women. They would not accept charity, and the offer of it would be seen as offensive. The duke narrowed his eyes and stepped back into the shadows.

“Close the door, my lord. If you are incapable of such a feat one of these lovely women would be happy to assist.”

The iron lock clicking into place turned all eyes back to you. Pinching your fingers to the bridge of your nose you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Here is the pricing that accommodates everyone. The women handling the children will not need to cover room and board, which will reduce their incoming monies. In turn, that reduces the burden per child for the laundresses. Now, you must decide among yourselves,” you open your eyes and scan the laundresses now, “If you wish to pay a per child fee or a flat fee. Tally your votes and inform me of your decision. This scheme will begin on the first.”

The women who handled the dirty laundry for the city nodded and rose. They spoke among themselves as they exited the room.

The older governess, Brenton, if you recall correctly spoke up now. Her white hair gleamed under her dowdy cap.

“Who will be supplying the learning materials? The pay for watching the children will not cover that.”

You climbed down as you thought over how to obtain the needed materials.

“There is an irksome lord that I will make pay for the displeasure of my constant annoyance.”

All four women shared a look. They had worked under several lords and ladies and knew this would be a formidable task.

“Well,” Miss Brenton clapped her hands twice, “We will leave you to your trial ma’am. If we can be of any assistance before our work begins, please reach out.”

“Thank you. I know this is going to be an odd period of transition for all of us.” Settling at the head of the table as the other stood, you gestured to the door. “Miss Brenton, if you don’t mind, could you play chaperone for a moment?”

“Must say, I am interested to see how this plays out.” Tucking her skirt back down Miss Brenton sat back down.

Pulling out a clean sheet you began to note down the needed items, chalk and chalkboards, readers, nappies, blankets, cribs, the list went on. The click of heavy-soled shoes stopped at your side. Paying it no mind, you continued. A second sheet joined the first, transferring a list of vendors that would help funnel money to the bottom where it was most needed. Some were spouses of the laundress, others were brothers, fathers, or uncles. All were low class and would provide solid work.

A total of three sheets filled you ensured each was dry before stacking them. Folding them into neat thirds, you turned and handed them to Lord Price.

“You are a difficult woman to make an acquaintance of,” he took the papers held in proffer. “What is this?”

“The bill.” Standing, you let the chair legs scrape against the floor. “Miss Brenton, can I interest you in having company on your walk home?”

The shrewd woman looked near apoplectic at your handling of a duke.

“This is a lengthy bill.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Lord Price’s eyes were upon you when you finally let your head finish turning. No smile graced his lips. Shame. For all he had made your last few weeks as painful as a throne in the thumb, he was nice to look at.

He wore a blue today. His eyes shone with the gold stitching on his jacket and vest.

“It has been extraordinary lengths you have gone to bother me; this seemed a fair request.”

Neither gaze shifts when Miss Brenton choked on air.

“Consider it done,” Duke Price tucked the list into his inner coat pocket. “May I join you ladies on your journey?”

“Of cour—”

You cut Miss Brenton off with a hand and a sharp look. Turning that sharp look on the lord, you speak your piece.

“No. I do not know what your intentions are with me, and frankly, I am tired of finding you amidst my business. The only men who pursue me do so for my,” you gesture to your scarred neck, “eccentricities.”

A string attached to your stomach could not have pulled tighter than if it were looped to a kite. This conversation made you wish you could skitter into a hole, a church mouse hiding from god. This would be the sixth time you had told a man no.

The duke huffed a laugh.

“I have enough eccentricities roaming my home. What I seek is a chance to see if we would get on well.”

His blue eyes left heated trails as they worked across your face. Goose flesh rose on your arms. Chest and further down where you dare not think of the flesh continued to rise. Every bit of you reacted.

“Why?” The question is breathy, haunted with questions.

Duke John Price held the sword of Damocles at your neck. The blade yearned for a taste.

You spent your days in the shadows. Confronting men who could take what they wanted was the only time you thought you knew what it was like to be whole. Acid bullied the back of your nose.

“I am in need of a wife. Someone who has the skills to manage others.”

He is not done. You don’t care.

“Choose any of your fashionably young countrywomen then.” Ripping your eyes from him, you stack your papers and close your ink well for travel. “There is a full troop of them yet unwed who would kill for the chance to lay in a duke’s bed. They have all been trained to manage households.”

The string in your body is cut. A tangle now lives in your chest.

“Miss Brenton, was it?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Can you give us the room for a moment?” The kind command would take more fortitude than the aged governess possessed.

A beseeching look to the matronly woman did not save you. Her wrinkles quivered as she slowly stood.

“I can give you three minutes m’lord.”

He inclined his head as if accepting a toast from a royal.

As the door swung shut you formed a plan. Stepping to the opposite side of the table, for distance and a barrier, failed. The toe of your boot caught the leg of the table. Papers fluttered from your hands as your knees cracked against the stone floor. Duke Price was there in an instant. He lifted each paper, laying it neatly in a stack.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t moved from your fallen position. Head hanging to your chest you held back from weeping by the breadth of a string.

“Why will you not leave me be?” The words are harsh, strangled by the tightness in your throat.

“When hunting foxes, one strategy to attempt is sending them to ground. Where do they hide when they can no longer run?” His demeanor was cool, his voice soothing. “You run in circles, managing to better every bird, twig, and rock you brush against in your escape.”

Sniffing, you set about finding a handkerchief to wipe your face; you refused to face the laundress’ if they knew you used your skirts as rags.

A blue handkerchief in a gloved hand drifted below your nose. Lifting it, careful to not touch even his glove, you dab your nose.

Somehow you had managed to drip ink into the crease where your nail becomes flesh. Gloves hurt your hands after a time. You had managed to work around wearing them. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. And if they did they didn’t care to police a grown woman who had no prospects.

“I have a pack, they are wonderful and I would burn the world for them. I need a wife who can see. I am looking for someone who notices the needs overlooked, connects with those unheard, and sends war captains on impossible journeys. If you had allowed an acquaintance between us weeks ago, I could have courted you slowly.”

Duke Price holds out your papers. They crinkle in your delicate grip as you press them to your breast.

“I do not believe you.”

His cloth pressed to your nose cannot prevent all the vile feelings filling up your bones from injecting themselves into the words.

No one wanted you. Even the one who had lied in word and deed to make you believe he did.

Brokenness allowed you to see because you could not smell; that did not make you valuable.

“And what would make you believe me?” He curls nearly in half to peer up at you.

A duke is on his knees, craning his need to get a look at you. What the hell had this world turned into?

Sniffing again, you straighten. Plans. You can make plans.

“A contract. Legally binding even in marriage. Make it two. One to court me and become engaged and the second retaining my rights to leave this country unhindered, if I so desire, if marriage were to come to pass.” You study him now. The wheels are turning in his mind.

“And what of the consequences of reneging on either contract?” A single brow is lifted in your direction.

“I imagine your solicitor has worked with you a long time, my lord. If he does not think of something suitable, I would be happy to revise and return it for review,” you lift a brow in response.

Games were easier. The rules never changed. Once understood, you could slide below notice and return to living life and helping where you could.

The man before you lifted both cheeks into a full smile. Your heart dropped into your heels still below your butt. He had a beautiful smile.

“They will be at your door for review before the week is out.”

“You have not yet gained an acquaintance, my lord, it might be rejected at the door,” you gave him a saucy wink and a watery laugh.

“I think a contract will be introduction enough.”

He held out a hand. You shook it, grip firm. Twice it bobbed before he turned your hand over and laid a kiss on your knuckles.

Catching sight of your lifted brow from his position he threw you off balance, again.

You had been to sea. Once only, were you out during a storm.

Then you had clung to the railing until a man in a slicker had slid a rope around your waist and helped haul you below deck. That wild energy that had commanded you to land came now. This time though? You longed to dive below the waves. If only to see if the storm could touch the seabed below.

Solicitor Allchin sat stiffly in the sitting room of your great aunt’s home. He wore black as if born to it, hair flounced the appropriate amount to show he would be fastidious and dogged in a task.

Your nails, trimmed short, bite into the fabric coating the arms of the wing-back chair. The crazy fool had actually done it. Two contracts lay strewn on the tea table before you. Unable to continue to read, they had been thrown down.

“Allchin?”

The man startled at being addressed. He had been taking surreptitiously deep breaths. If anyone believed you to be afflicted with no scent gland upon meeting you would call them a liar.

“Yes ma’am?”

“What is your opinion of Duke Price?”

You refused to call him John. It felt like ceding ground in a war you didn’t intend to entrench in.

“He is a fair man, mostly. Cares well for those that he considers his, discards those he doesn’t.” Allchin spoke firmly. Confident in his honesty.

“Thank you. That will be all. I will return these with any adjustments within three business days.” Standing would be beyond your power. If you rose the only thing you would manage is the three steps to vomit in an oriental vase.

“Ma’am,” Allchin rose, tugging his coat neatly into place. “If I may? I have a question.”

“You may not.”

Rage fluttered in your chest with hummingbird wings; it stung your eyes, water filling them.

Allchin nodded once and saw himself out. Lifting the paperwork, you read what you could. He had tilted everything in your favor. If you agreed to an engagement you could keep it quiet until the bans were read. Either party could break the engagement and you would receive a settlement for cover “pain and suffering.” You would retain full autonomy and legal status as a person in the event of a marriage. Property bought or sold in your name would remain yours.

Working itself out seemed to be working in Lord Price’s favor.

Someone, and if you ever found them you might actually hurl them down the stairs, had told your great aunt about the visit and the paperwork.

“What is this I hear about an offer?”

The testy old woman had called you to her office like a child. She opened and shut a fan in one hand. Open. Shut. Open. Shut.

Blinking slowly, you release a breath.

“I did not think you could hear at all anymore, Aunt.”

Slam. The fan cracked against the edge of her desk.

“Do not test me, child! Have you had an offer?” Her frail voice betrays none of her age as she shouts.

Disdain drips from your canines like blood from a throat you clenched between your teeth.

“I lost my childhood to bigotry and hate. I will not lose my adulthood to it as well. Any business between myself and any man who might make an offer is none of your damn business. Only those who care about my welfare are welcome to that knowledge.” The temperature in the room changed, flashing cool before heating up with a rage you knew waited to boil over.

Turning on a heel, you stride from the room.

Any calls from your aunt fall on deaf ears. You lock yourself in your room and squirrel away the paperwork. Not well enough.

One of the maids must have found them. Word reached you as you were fitted for a wedding gown that your aunt had offered a hefty reward for the person who could pry the information from you. You thank the young woman pinning the skirt and ask after her children. She smiles as she tells you of her daughters and their clumsy attempts at stitches.

Masterlist | Part 2

[perseidlion]

Streaming in Kaos

Well, it happened. I can't say that I'm surprised that KAOS has been cancelled by Netflix. I am a little surprised at the speed at which it was axed. Only a month after it aired, and it's already gone.

That has me wondering if the decision to cancel was made before the show even aired. We have to remember that marketing is the biggest cost after production. If the Netflix brass looked at the show and either decided (through audience testing, AI stuff or just their own biases) that it wasn't going to be a Stranger Things-level hit, they probably chose at that moment to slash its marketing budget.

That meant there was pretty much no way that KAOS was ever going to hit the metrics Netflix required of it to get a season 2.

What makes me so angry about this (other than the survival of a show relying on peoples' biases or AI) is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you decide before a show is ever going to air that it won't be a success, then it probably won't be. If you rely on metrics and algorithms and AI to analyze art, you will never let something surprise you. You'll never let it grow. You'll never nurture the cult hits of the future or the next franchise.

Netflix desperately needs people behind the scenes that believe in stories and potential over metrics. Nothing except the same old predictable dreck is ever going to be allowed to survive if you don't believe in the stories you're telling.

The networks and streamers have a huge problem on their hands. They need big hits and to build the franchises of the future to sustain their current model (which is horribly broken.) But people have franchise fatigue and aren't showing up for known IPs like they used to. The fact that Marvel content is definitely not a sure thing anymore is a huge canary in the coal mine for franchise fatigue. People aren't just tired of Marvel, they're tired of the existing worlds both on the big screen and the small one. Audiences are hungry for something new.

It is telling that the most successful Marvel properties of the last few years have been the ones that do something different. Marvel is smart to finally pull out The X-Men because that is a breath of fresh air and something people are hungry to see more of.

There's pretty much no one behind the scenes (except for maybe AMC building The Immortal Universe) that is committing to really taking the time to build these new worlds. Marvel built the MCU by playing the long game. That paid dividends for a solid decade even if it's dropping off now. That empire was built not with nostalgia for existing IP (don't forget the MCU was built with B and C tier heroes) but with patience. Marvel itself seems to have forgotten this in recent years.

Aside from that, I think people really want stories that aren't connected to a billion other things. That takes commitment on the part of the audience to follow and to get attached to. People WANT three to five excellent seasons of a show that tells its own story and isn't leaving threads out there for a dozen spinoffs. We're craving tight storytelling.

KAOS could have been that. Dead Boy Detectives could have been that. So could Our Flag Means Death, Lockwood and Co, Shadow and Bone, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, Willow, and a dozen other shows with great potential or were excellent out of the gate.

If you look at past metrics, you only learn what people used to like, not what they want now. People are notoriously bad about articulating what they want, but boy do they know it when they see it. Networks have to go back to having a dozen moderate successes instead of constantly churning through one-season shows that get axed and pissing off the people who did like it in a hamfisted attempt to stumble on the next big thing.

The networks desperately need to go back to believing in their shows. Instead, they keep cutting them off at the knees before they ever get a chance because some algorithm told them the numbers weren't there.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ˚୨୧⋆｡

Cooper Abbott x Fem!Reader

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: You weren’t too keen on your new stepfather to start, but as he and your mother grew further apart, you found yourself pulled to him more and more, and when things reach a head, you become closer than ever before.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: if you have a good relationship with your mother congrats but i don’t so this one’s for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: stepdad!cooper, age gap (reader is in their mid 20’s + cooper is mid 40’s), nondescript references to parental verbal & emotional abuse, virgin!reader, fem + afab reader, reader referred to as girl, perv!cooper, slight voyeurism, f masturbation, mention of m masturbation, dacryphilia, daddy kink, breeding kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it always), penetrative sex, pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, babydoll, baby), creampie, cheating, praise, hickeys, size kink if you squint, spit kink, degradation (whore), aftercare, mentions of murder

Rating: R, 18+

——

When your mother introduced you to her fiancé Cooper Abbott two years ago, you couldn’t stand him. He was shady, dipping out of the house at all hours of the night, and full of himself. He was confident, often to a borderline cocky level, and you wanted nothing to do with your new step father even after him and your mom tied the knot. His kids were sweet enough, but they were only over on the weekends and with their mother the rest of the week, not leaving much time to bond with your new step-siblings.

You avoided him as often as you could, picking up extra shifts to get yourself out of the house more often, dodging whatever awkward attempt at bonding he had in mind for you that particular day. It’s not that you thought he would make a bad father, he was great to his existing kids, but you didn’t feel like you needed a grown man to father you, having already been an adult yourself for a short while.

Cooper took to you right away, the urge that rose in his chest the first time he saw you frightening him. It wasn’t anything like the urge he felt when he was scoping out one of his kills, no, it was the polar opposite. He had this carnal desire to protect you, to keep you safe from all outside forces threatening your happiness. He knew you didn’t feel whole, could sense that there was something missing deep inside of you, that same something he was missing, a hole in his chest left there by the tumultuous relationship he shared with his mother. He wondered if he had been wrong about the woman he chose to marry, and as time would tell, he was correct.

As the months went on you slowly found yourself warming up to him more and more, almost startling yourself out of your chair one night when you realized you’d been absentmindedly smiling as he went on about the latest fire call his station had been on during family dinner.

That night, two weeks ago, when his foot brushed yours under the dining room table and instead of pulling away, you played footsie with him for the remainder of the meal, lingered in your mind, the faint knowing smile on his face between bites making you wonder if there was something more to it. You began to test the waters, leaving a pair of your panties in the washing machine so they’d end up in his next load of laundry to see if he’d return them or not, leaving your bedroom door cracked when you changed, “accidentally” leaving your vibrator on your bed when you knew he’d be coming down the hall to see it in passing.

He fell for every single one of your traps, lingering in the hallway to peer through the crack in your door, blood rushing to his dick at the sight of your bare breasts when you lifted your shirt over your head, the panties you’d left in the washer mysteriously never popping back up in your underwear drawer, your vibrator magically shifting positions every time you left it out.

It was mostly innocent at first, just a silly, taboo flirtation that gave the two of your lonely souls an entertaining game to play, but with your mom out of town for work, Cooper was ready to see if your little antics were really just a game.

He loved your mother, at least, he thought he did. After their wedding he began to see the sides of her that had tormented you most of your adolescence. Her controlling and narcissistic nature that she hid so well around strangers began to rear its ugly head the longer he was around, and he was just about at his limit. He’d never let your mother onto even an inkling of his dissatisfaction, an expert at keeping secrets and manipulating her into believing he was the happiest man alive, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He became acutely aware of the way she treated you, and it stirred a rage inside of him that could only be quelled by his latest kill. He saw parts of himself in you, the part of himself that was once a scared young boy, facing all of the trauma his own mother inflicted upon him. He wanted nothing more than to protect you from her, to put his skills to use and butcher her the way he did the rest of his victims, but there were too many risk factors to consider. She was too close to him, too connected legally and socially, it would be traced back to him immediately, and he couldn’t risk going to prison and leaving you all alone in that trauma-ridden house.

-

“I’m going to the grocery store, I’ll be back in an hour.” Cooper called up from the bottom of the stairs, pausing for your acknowledgment. You shouted a short “Okay!” from your bedroom and waited until you heard the slam of the front door behind him.

You wanted nothing more than to feel his hands all over you, but you knew that couldn’t happen. Cooper was respectable, a family man by all accounts, you were sure he’d never betray your mother like that. But you wished he would every time he flexed his muscular arms while carrying groceries in from the car, every time the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and every time his hand brushed against your lower back when he walked past you.

You were hungry, needy in a way you were almost ashamed of, and you knew Cooper wasn’t satisfied either. You’d heard him panting and groaning by himself through your bedroom wall when he thought he was alone in the house one too many times for him to be getting any from your mother. Their bedroom being right next to yours left very little to the imagination and you hadn’t heard the bed creak in over a year.

Honestly, after all the shit she’d put you through, you weren’t sure if you could say you’d never betray her either. Your apathy toward her had grown stronger with every nasty word she’d sent your way and as you got older, you stopped letting yourself feel bad for holding it against her. No mother should speak to their child the way she spoke to you, and despite your compulsion to keep the peace as long as you lived under her roof, you didn’t care to protect her anymore.

Despite all of your desires, you resigned to lulling your urges every quiet moment you had alone with yourself, your trusty vibe in hand as you imagined Cooper on top of you, touching you in all of the right ways. Today was no different, your cunt already dripping from the image of Cooper walking down the hallway, toned torso dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist after his morning shower. When he said he’d be leaving, your stomach flipped at the opportunity to take care of your little problem, opening the drawer of your nightstand the moment you heard the door shut.

You quickly rid yourself of your clothing, shirt and shorts in a messy pile on your bedroom floor as you pushed your underwear down your legs, the fabric catching on your bedpost as you attempted to fling them to the floor. You propped yourself against your pillows, reaching underneath them to pull out the shirt you’d stolen out of Cooper’s dirty laundry and held it to your face, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cologne and natural musk as the soft fabric brushed against your nose.

You didn’t have time to savor the act this time, with only an hour to work with, each of your actions needed to have direct intention behind them. You pulled the shirt over your frame, the loose fabric grazing over your sensitive nipples, another surge of arousal pooling between your thighs. You pulled the toy out of your drawer, the sleek aluminum weighty in your hand as you guided it to your center, using the rounded edge of the silicon head to spread your arousal up to your clit before turning the suction onto its lowest setting.

The soft hum of the small toy filled the room, echoed by your uninhibited whimpers as you held the suction against your clit, each targeted pulse of air drawing a breathy moan from your heaving chest. You dropped your head to rest on your shoulder, taking in his scent from the shirt again as you tried your best to remember the way his hand felt on your lower back, to imagine how that feeling could translate to other parts of your body, firm pressure against your hips, your ribs, your breasts, your throat.

Your thighs began to tremble as your release drew impossibly close, your finger pressing the button on the toy to up the intensity and send you into a toe-curling orgasm. You cried out his name again and again, tears pricking in the corner of your eye as your hips bucked, dropping the toy from your sensitive cunt as the feeling of overstimulation started the set in.

“Fuck.”

The exasperated sigh and sound of rustled plastic hitting the floor quickly ripped you from your post-orgasm haze, eyes shooting open as you scrambled to pull your comforter over your body.

Cooper was pissed, but not for the reasons you thought. He was mad at himself for not being the one to make you come, for not reading into your signs enough to be the man you needed him to be and make the first move. He needed to be in control, and watching you do it all yourself, with only the thought of him there to help, made him sick to his stomach.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought you’d be out longer.” You tried your best to justify your actions but you knew it was useless, this looked bad, was bad, no matter what way you tried to spin it.

“I went to the corner store instead.” He cleared his throat and picked up the small plastic bag and bundle of fresh flowers off the floor, turning to walk out of the room. His footsteps down the hall reverberated so loud you wondered how you could’ve been so lost to not hear him walking toward your room earlier. You laid your head in your hands to sulk for a moment before pulling yourself together, figuring it better to be an adult about the situation than pouting like a child.

You walked to the bathroom down the hall, messy toy in hand and a look of shame on your face. There was no point in shutting the door, Cooper had already seen your vibrator doing exactly what it was made for, a glimpse of you washing it in the sink wouldn’t kill him. The water ran hot and you got to work, thoroughly rinsing the soap suds off when you felt hands on your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt, or rather, Cooper’s shirt.

You looked into the mirror, his brown eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “I’ve been looking for this.” He started to lift the fabric, exposing your stomach before quickly dropping it and taking a step back. Your face dropped in disappointment, wishing he’d have taken what was his.

Cooper wasn’t exactly a particularly moral person, but nevertheless he didn’t feel great about your age gap or the power imbalance involved with being your stepfather. He couldn’t let himself do anything without your express permission, not when there was so much risk involved.

“You can touch me, if you want to.” You spoke softly, avoiding eye contact while turning the tap off and reaching for a clean towel to set your vibrator on to dry. Cooper didn’t hesitate, his hands returning to their place on your hips before slipping under his shirt, rubbing over the curve of your waist and taking in how soft your delicate skin felt against his palms. Your eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the feeling of his large hands on you like you’d fantasized about countless times before.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He gave a soft squeeze to your sides, waiting for your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a warm smile greeting you when you finally did.

“What are you thinking about?” He questioned, continuing to run his fingers up and down your waist. Your breath hitched just slightly, trying to put your months of built up fantasies into words and failing miserably.

“You, I want you.” You breathed out, too shy to say the things you really wanted to. He saw the way you shifted on your heels, trying to close the gap between his chest and your back. He looked so beautifully intimidating like this, tall stature looming over yours like an animal stalking its prey, the lion and the lamb. He took the hem of the shirt in his grip and slowly raised it over your head, never breaking eye contact.

The sight of your bare breasts made him groan almost animalistically, ready to devour you. It’d been so long since he’d been with a woman so supple, your body an apple ripe for the picking.

“Where, sweetheart?” His lips met your temple, placing a chaste kiss before making his way down your neck, lips ghosting over your sensitive skin, eyes still locked with yours all the while. He sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. You watched him, entranced by how expertly he mapped your pulsepoint, your hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly and whimpering when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear. You were so lost in him you weren't sure what way was up or down, let alone what he had just asked you.

“You make the sweetest sounds babydoll, can you use that pretty voice to tell me where you want me to fuck you? I’d gladly bend you over this countertop, or carry you to my bed, I just want your first time to be comfortable.” The tail end of his statement had your eyes widening like a deer in headlights, feeling like your deepest secret had just been exposed to the world.

“H-how did you know?” Your voice was shaky, unsure of yourself as you wondered if your virgin status was really that painfully obvious to others.

“I heard you the other night, on the phone with your friend.” He was so nonchalant, as if it was the most normal conversation in the world to be having with your stepfather. Your body relaxed slightly, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding.

“My bed please, I don’t want to think about my mother while we do this.” You held your fingers in your opposite hand, nervously fidgeting with your digits as you dropped your head, staring at the sink. You knew you didn’t have an obligation to feel bad for her, but guilt panned in your chest nonetheless. Cooper’s hand found your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. You were too good for her, too good for him if he was being honest with himself, but you made him want to be a better person for your sake, and he wanted nothing more than to help you lose that unnecessary guilt he knew you were carrying.

“Trust me sweetheart, I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all about her, want her to be the furthest thing from either of our minds.” His voice soothed you the way your favorite songs do, and a heat rose over your cheeks thinking about all the ways he could do that.

You almost had the wind knocked out of you when he took you by the waist and perfectly executed an over the shoulder carry, playfully slapping your ass before making his way down the hall to your bedroom. You let a moan slip, and you would’ve been embarrassed if it hadn’t been for the way his shoulder tensed underneath your stomach in response.

“You like when I manhandle you?” Cooper teased, carefully tossing you down onto your plush bedding. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together as his gaze drifted over your body, sizing up his prey. You relaxed against your pillows, the stuffed animals either side of your head framing your innocence like a halo. Cooper began to undress, watching the way your features became more reactive with every article of clothing he removed, until he was in nothing but his boxers. You gulped, seeing the outline of his member through the thin fabric and growing nervous, trying to imagine how he would fit inside you.

When he finally slid his underwear off, your lips parted in a soft gasp, mesmerized by the blush pink hue of his leaking tip, your eyes following the length of the prominent vein on the right side of his shaft. He was thick, intimidatingly so, and your mouth started to water thinking of how small your hand would look wrapped around it. Before you knew it you were on your hands and knees, crawling to the end of the bed and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I try?” You asked, voice too innocent for Cooper to take.

“Only if you really want to, honey.” He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek. You nodded eagerly, returning the smile as you repositioned yourself, bent forward to lean on your elbows and knees, his cock right at your eye line. You brought your hand to his length, just holding the weight of it in your hand for a moment, looking it over to properly memorize it. Cooper found it easy to be patient with you despite the way his body was begging for you to do more, finding your curious nature incredibly endearing. Opening your mouth hesitantly, you began by kitten licking the tip, the salty taste of his precum lingering on your tongue. You didn’t know what you expected, but whatever it was, this was better. You swirled your tongue around his head, exploring the contours of the taut skin before taking him into your mouth, feeling the way he twitched ever so slightly in response to the warm heat. Cooper groaned, his hand making its way to the back of your head, not pushing but guiding your shallowly bobbing head.

You worked your way further down his length, slowly feeling your throat adjust to the intrusion with every gag it gave, your mouth dripping with saliva. Cooper nearly lost it when you experimentally hollowed your cheeks, the added pressure of your suction drawing your name from his lips. He began to shallowly thrust, making you gag even harder as you took in two thirds of his shaft, tears welling in your eyes. You did your best to adjust, but it was no use, your throat unable to adjust to the depth he held you at. Your tears broke your waterline, leaving grey mascara streaks in their wake and you knew you must look a mess. Your shallow breaths were growing harder to take, but you wanted to keep going, you needed to make him come.

Your throat spasming around him felt incredible, and it took everything in Cooper to stop himself from forcing you to take him the rest of the way until your nose hit his stomach. He knew he’d get you there eventually, but that wasn’t the goal today. The image of your beautiful face, all smeared with messy makeup and covered in spit was something he never wanted to forget, taking a mental image as an effigy of your transformation into his perfect little slut. He needed to taste you, to know how sweet an angel like you must be. He gripped your hair, gently easing his cock from your throat, a thick string of saliva stretching across the empty divide between his tip and your lips. You panted, sitting back on your heels and catching your breath as you looked up at him, a small seed of worry planting itself in your mind. Cooper could see it, that light in your eyes dimming ever so slightly.

“What’s the matter baby?” He was genuinely concerned, worried that he’d gone too hard on you.

“It’s nothing, I’m just, I-I don’t know how it’s gonna fit.” You stumbled over your words, embarrassed by your confession. Of course you knew scientifically how it would, vaginas can stretch enough to push a baby out, of course it could stretch to fit a penis. But after seeing one in person, having him in your mouth and not being able to take it all in, and thinking back to how you could barely fit two of your own fingers inside yourself, the rational part of your brain had long since resigned itself from this topic.

“I promise it will, I know just how to get you ready so it only hurts a little, okay?” He leaned down, inches from your face, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into a kiss, his tongue pinning yours down in a subtle show of dominance before pulling away, just admiring you for a moment.

“You are so beautiful.” He sighed, cupping your face in his hands, calloused thumbs wiping away your tear stains. Your cheeks grew hot again, never knowing how to take a compliment but appreciating his praise beyond words, especially with how messy you’d gotten.

“Lay back for me, sweet girl.” He kissed you on the top of your head, gently nudging your shoulder and you followed his instruction, returning to your previous position against your pillows. He took your ankles in hip grip, spreading your legs to situate himself on his stomach between them, his face inches from your now impossibly wet cunt. He looked up at you, locking eyes before flattening his tongue against your hole and licking a flat strike through your folds up to your swollen clit, eliciting a gentle whimper from your trembling lips.

“Never had a girl as sweet as you before.” Cooper praised, and he wasn’t exaggerating. He couldn’t get enough of the savory sweet mix of your arousal, so intoxicating he thought he might get drunk off of it. The compliment made you want to hide, your thighs attempting to close out of instinct. His strong hands ruined their plight, forcing them to stay spread and using his thick forearms to anchor you to the bed. He dove back in, practically muzzling himself with your cunt, lapping hungrily at your weeping entrance. Your hands clutched desperately at your floral sheets, looking for anything to cling to, too scared to hurt him with your iron grip.

His motions moved upward, plush lips framing your clit before swiping quickly over the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, chest rising off of the bed momentarily as your body fought to process all of the new sensations it was experiencing. Cooper hummed against you, his eyes gazing over your mound to watch the way you reacted to the vibrations the action sent through you. You were a moaning mess, all whiney pleases and breathy cries, wriggling against him. When he pulled away moments later, you groaned in frustration.

“Patience, babydoll, I’m going to start stretching this little pussy out to get her prepared for me.” He slapped your inner thigh, returning back to your clit as his fingers traced the tight muscles around your entrance. When you were properly worked up again, lost in the feeling of his tongue on your clit, he inserted his middle finger, your wetness allowing it to glide in with ease. He curled it inside of you, rubbing along the contours of your warm, velvety walls. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking into his palm to encourage him to add another. He did so, his pointer joining with slight resistance, the size of his fingers providing more stimulation than your own ever could. He pumped them in and out in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue, feeling your tightness ease up around him the longer he repeated his movements. You could feel a pressure building in the pit of your stomach, one slightly different than what you were used to.

“More, please.” You moaned, bucking your hips once more, causing Cooper to smile against you. He did as you asked, his index finger joining the other two inch by inch, your muscles stretching slowly until he was up to his knuckles inside of you. He held the digits still for a moment, waiting to be sure you were ready before pulling out and thrusting them back in, curling them to hit the spongy patch that his fingers could only just reach. You felt like you were hurtling toward the edge of a cliff, moments away from losing all control when he began sucking on your clit, the added pressure causing your vision to go blurry.

“Daddy!” You cried out, back arching and thighs clamping around his head and fingers clutched so tightly you thought your sheets might rip in your grasp. Cooper slowed his actions, working you through every wave of your orgasm until you relaxed into the mattress, releasing him from between your thighs. When your mind finally cleared you realized what you had done, frantically sitting up to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from, I just got so overwhelmed, I-I wasn’t thinking.” You rambled on, overexplaining in hopes that he wouldn’t be disgusted with you.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s more than okay. You want me to be your daddy? Gonna let Daddy take care of you?” His full lips and stubble both glistened with your slick, and you almost wished you could take a photo to capture the look in his eyes. He pushed himself up by his forearms, crawling up to hover over you and tilting his head as if waiting for a response, until you realized what he wanted.

“Yes, Daddy.” You looked up at him, big doe eyes still glazed over from your afterglow, and something shifted in Cooper. The urge was back, something primal in him that needed to be as close as possible, to not only be inside you, but to own you. He hung his head, fighting back against it.

“I’ll be right back, I need to get a condom.” He sighed, prioritizing your comfort over his desires, or so he thought.

“Cooper, wait, do we have to use one?” You grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out of bed, and his eyes lit up at your words.

“You don’t want to?” He questioned, a bit caught off guard.

“I want to feel all of you, I don’t care if I might get pregnant.” Your eyes darkened and he swore he saw something more behind your eyes, like you weren't letting him in on a dark secret, but he thought better than to push it.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He let out a slight laugh, shaking his head before grabbing one of your pillows and asking you to lift your hips, placing it under your ass. The added cushion had you more relaxed, your nerves about his size starting to dissipate. He hooked his hands behind your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him a full view of your pussy, ready and waiting for him. He lined up his hips with yours, his cock laying against the apex of your thigh.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?” His voice was soft, strained slightly with pent up desire but holding nothing but love otherwise. You nodded, an eager “Yes.” pulled from your now-sore throat. He looked into your eyes, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it through your folds to properly coat it in your slick, taking a few seconds to slap the head against your clit just to hear a couple more of those pretty little whimpers he loved so much before having to see you in pain. He lined up his tip with your entrance, pressing into you at an almost agonizingly slow pace, pausing when he saw you grimace in pain.

“I know sweetheart, but it’s just one big stretch then it’ll feel good, I know you can do it.” He soothed, his hand finding yours to intertwine your fingers. You nodded, your free hand moving to rest on the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. He continued to push forward inch by inch, swallowing your winces and whines until he was finally seated fully inside of you, stalling his hips to allow your tight walls to adjust around him. He pulled away from the kiss when your sighs of pain subsided, squeezing your hand.

“Move, please.” You gave him the go ahead, and he wasted no time, pulling out carefully before thrusting slowly back in, your mouth dropping in a gasp at the new sensation, a burn so good you didn’t know whether to moan or cry. The more he repeated the action, the louder you became, all semblance of pain turning into a pleasure you’d never felt before, feeling like he was made to fill the emptiness inside of you.

“God, you’re so tight babydoll, taking me so well.” His praise had you on cloud 9, but his gentle pace was only doing so much and it was starting to feel like you had an itch you couldn’t scratch.

“Harder.” You moaned, voice tinged with frustration by the teetering level of stimulation.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He retorted, slightly taken aback by your demanding tone.

“Please fuck me harder Daddy, I need it.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, still glistening with tears from earlier and he melted, content to answer your prayers. He dropped your hand, bringing his grip to your neck to apply firm pressure to the sides of your neck, careful not to press against your windpipe as he slammed his hips against yours, the slapping of skin and both of your moans filling the room.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” That cocky confidence that you had once hated was starting to come out, but this time, it made you clamp down around him. You nodded as best you could, starting to lose your focus as your mind went blank, your orgasm building quickly. Cooper saw the way your eyes glazed over and groaned, knowing he finally had you just the way he wanted you.

“Open.” His hand gripped your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks to force your mouth into an ‘O’ shape, your tongue instinctually lulling out of your mouth. Before you could blink his spit had landed on your tongue, slipping to the back of your mouth until you swallowed it with a needy moan. You kept your mouth open and Cooper repeated the action, watching as a drop of it dribbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Only your first time and you're already such a whore.” He laughed, his hand returning to your throat. His other made its way into the tight space between your bodies, rubbing firm circles over your sensitive bundle and nerves, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts.

“Only for you.” You were so close, and you knew he was too, the way his moans were becoming more desperate, his brows furrowed underneath the strands of hair that had fallen in his face, and the feeling of his cock twitching with every thrust.

“You’re mine, gonna keep you forever, sweet girl.” His words made your head spin, and as he hit the soft spot inside of you one final time, you were gone, hearing gone fuzzy and stars erupting behind your eyes, all coherent thoughts gone from your mind, too overwhelmed with euphoria. Cooper didn’t slow down in the slightest, racing toward his own orgasm at an unstoppable pace. Your sensitivity was at an all time high, walls fluttering around him at an unwavering pace, the pressure against your clit making you want to cry as it almost crossed into pain territory, until it morphed into another growing orgasm.

“Come on babydoll, give me one more.” He encouraged, his torso pushing down against yours in almost a full mating press, more skin on skin contact than you’d had in your entire life.

“God, Cooper, please, need you to put a baby in me.” You didn’t care what he thought anymore, too close to your third orgasm of the night to give a single thought into what his potential judgments would be.

“Whatever you want, filthy girl.” He gave one final slamming thrust inside of you, his thumb swiping quickly over your clit to drag you over the edge with him, thick ropes of cum coating your contracting walls. You were both beyond spent, his dead weight on top of you oddly comforting until your legs started to cramp. He eased out of you, the empty feeling pulling an involuntary wince. He laid next to you, his arm snaking beneath your waist to pull you flush against him. He kissed the top of your head, letting you rest for a moment before helping you sit up.

“You should pee, I don’t want you getting a uti.” He helped you up onto shaky legs, holding your waist as you walked down the hallway together, each step you took feeling like a fawn learning to use its limbs for the first time.

You did as you were told, sitting in silence as he wet a washcloth in the sink next to you.

“What did you go to the store for, anyway?” You asked, genuinely curious but also trying to fill the silence.

“The flowers, I wanted to surprise you, after the comment you made the other day at the farmer’s market.” You recalled a compliment you’d paid one of the flower vendors that day, after your mother had made an offhand one to them about how wilted their stock was. You’d done that a lot throughout your life, it was just second nature at this point, trying your best to leave a trail of positivity behind your mother’s constant criticism.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to.” You looked down at your hands to hide your embarrassment.

“Look at me.” His voice was firm but caring, and when you looked up, you realized he was right beside you. He held your chin with one hand and used the other to wipe the damp washcloth over your cheeks, washing the faded mascara off of your skin.

“I wanted to. I think everything we just did is pretty decent proof that I care about you, sweetheart. Don’t ever doubt my motivations.” He wiped the last of your makeup off, cleaned himself up and let you finish before washing your hands and spending the rest of the evening together in your bed, snuggled up and discussing all the things you could do with the remaining days until your mother returned home and you had to actually deal with the complicated nature of what all of this meant for the two of you.

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tagging some angel moots: @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @hereforthehitsbaby

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