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thelostconsultant · 5 months ago

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Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that.

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him.

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head.

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help.

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse.

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh.

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean.

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you.

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

view all comments

user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #before i get the question again this is a random cute pic that came up at the top in the google search #no i wasn't paying attention to skin color

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solxamber · 4 months ago

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How Not to Court Your Crush: A Disaster in Six Acts - Malleus Draconia x reader

You're trying to court Malleus so why is he acting so weird? Malleus is trying to court you, so why are you acting so weird.

aka you try fae courtship and malleus tries human courtship, you both fail spectacularly.

Scene 1: The Offering of... Chaos?

You were determined. Absolutely, one hundred percent determined to win over Malleus Draconia’s heart the fae way. You’d done your research—well, half-researched. You might’ve skimmed some books. Okay, maybe you watched some video where a guy talked about it for 10 minutes. But still! You were ready to tackle fae courting, head-on.

Which is why you were standing in the middle of the campus courtyard holding a potted mandrake. Because, according to some source (you couldn’t quite remember which), gifting rare plants was a surefire way to court a fae prince.

Unfortunately, no one told you that the mandrake in question would scream like a banshee as soon as you yanked it out of the dirt.

"Behold!" You shouted, thrusting the potted terror toward Malleus, who had appeared in his usual fashion—stealthy and majestic, like a dragon perching on a mountain. "A rare gift for the noble Prince of Briar Valley!"

The mandrake, in all its wailing glory, let out a soul-piercing shriek. Nearby students flung themselves behind trees and bushes. Sebek fainted. Silver, as usual, napped through the chaos.

Malleus blinked at you. Once. Twice. His face was a mixture of confusion and slight amusement. "Are you... trying to summon something?"

You frowned. "Summon? No! This is for you!" You held the screaming mandrake higher, like an offering to some ancient god. "As a... token of my appreciation! You like plants, right?"

The mandrake let out a final, particularly blood-curdling scream before going silent, wilting slightly in the pot. Malleus blinked once. Twice. “I... do like plants, yes. But usually... not ones that wish to harm me.”

You grinned, proud of your extremely thoughtful choice. “Well, this one just has personality!”

Malleus cautiously took the pot from you, staring down at the now exhausted mandrake. “Thank you,” he said, sounding unsure if you were joking or being sincere. “I’ll... treasure it.”

Somewhere in the distance, Ace and Deuce exchanged pitying looks. “Man,” Ace muttered, “he doesn’t deserve this.”

Scene 2: The Worst Poem Ever Written

Malleus had been doing his own research—much more thorough than yours, of course. He’d read books. Lots of them. Mostly ancient tomes from his castle library that were centuries old. After all, human courting customs couldn’t have changed that much, right?

His plan was foolproof: Humans enjoyed poetry. Therefore, he would craft you the most beautiful, heart-stopping poem ever written, and your affection for him would blossom like the midnight roses of Briar Valley.

He found you sitting under a tree near the school, probably recovering from your last spectacular fae courting attempt (the less said about the mandrake incident, the better). Malleus approached with all the grace of a dark prince, his black cloak billowing in the wind, carrying a scroll in his hand.

"Dearest," he began, as you looked up from your phone. "I have composed a poem for you. An ode to your beauty and grace."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes. Please, allow me." He unfurled the scroll dramatically.

You sat back, intrigued. This was either going to be a disaster or absolute gold. Either way, you were ready.

Malleus cleared his throat, then began to read with all the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor:

"Your hair, like the moss that grows on the oldest tombstones,

Your eyes, like the deepest, darkest, creepiest of wells,

Your voice, as soothing as the distant scream of a lost soul..."

You snorted. "What?"

"Your beauty is like the moon, that I can never reach, because it is in the sky... far away... and also made of rock." He paused, glancing at you hopefully. “Do you like it so far?”

You bit your lip, desperately trying not to laugh. "Um... It's... something. Keep going."

Malleus beamed. "There’s more!"

"Your hands, soft like the belly of a small woodland creature..." He continued, and you finally lost it, howling with laughter. “Is it not... moving?”

You waved your hands, barely able to breathe through your giggles. "Malleus! Are you... Are you serious?!"

“I thought humans liked dark poetry,” he said, looking genuinely concerned.

“Well, some do, but—” You stopped yourself, trying not to laugh. “No, wait, keep going. I want to hear more.”

Malleus, relieved, continued. “Your beauty is like the full moon—cold, distant, and surrounded by darkness.”

Somewhere behind a nearby tree, Lilia was biting his lip to stop from laughing, while Ace and Deuce shared looks of absolute pity for their friend and Malleus.

Ace shook his head. “Poor guy. He’s trying so hard.”

Scene 3: The... Ambush?

Since the plant-gifting thing didn’t go quite as planned, you decided that maybe a more public display of affection would be the ticket. According to something you half-remembered (and maybe misunderstood), fae really appreciated grand gestures of intent. So, naturally, you chose the school cafeteria at lunchtime as your stage.

As you climbed on top of a table, all eyes turned toward you. Malleus sat at a corner table, watching you with his usual calm, collected demeanor, but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

"Prince Malleus!" you shouted dramatically, lifting your arms in the air. “I declare before all of these witnesses that I shall offer this to you!”

The cafeteria fell into dead silence. Well, except for Lilia, who was quietly choking on his laughter in the background.

Malleus blinked, his expression unreadable. “You... what?”

"Yes! I offer you—" you pulled out the cabbage you’d swiped from the kitchen earlier—"this symbol of my devotion!"

Malleus stared at the cabbage in your hands. "Is that... a vegetable?"

“Yes! It’s a sign of fertility or... something.” You weren’t entirely sure, but it sounded right. “I picked it myself!”

Malleus blinked again, clearly trying to process this information. “I... appreciate the gesture."

Lilia butts in. "Beastie, I’m afraid cabbages aren’t typically used in fae courting rituals.”

You pouted, hopping off the table. “What? But I read that—"

“Perhaps... next time, try flowers?”

Behind you, Ace facepalmed. “Oh, man. They're hopeless.”

Scene 4: The Gift of... Dirt?

Malleus was now absolutely convinced that something was seriously wrong with you. You seemed... more chaotic than usual, and while he enjoyed your enthusiasm, he had no idea why you were suddenly thrusting vegetables at him.

In his effort to reciprocate (and maybe figure out what was going on), he decided to give you a gift of his own. A very special one. From his homeland.

After all, humans liked sentimental gifts, right?

That’s why, one morning, he approached you with a small velvet pouch in his hand, his face filled with sincerity. “Child of Man, I have something for you.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, curious. “What’s that?”

He handed you the pouch, and you opened it, only to find... dirt. Black, slightly glittery dirt.

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the dirt. “Is this... dirt?”

“Yes,” Malleus said proudly. “From Briar Valley. It’s a very special soil, infused with the magic of my homeland.”

You blinked. “You got me dirt.”

“Very magical dirt,” he corrected, as if that made it better.

You bit back a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. “Um... thanks?”

Ace, watching from a distance, nudged Deuce. “Man, They're gonna end up with a garden at this rate.”

Scene 5: The Unnecessary Duel

Clearly, you had been doing something wrong, because your attempts at fae courtship had been met with nothing but polite confusion. But you were nothing if not determined. The next step in your (completely misguided) strategy? Prove your strength in battle. Duh.

You marched up to Malleus one afternoon, sword in hand, and pointed it at his chest. "Malleus Draconia! I challenge you to a duel!"

Malleus blinked at you, clearly baffled. “A duel? With... me?”

“Yes!” you declared, brandishing the sword with a flourish. “I shall prove myself worthy of your admiration through combat!”

Malleus tilted his head. “You... wish to fight me?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! To the death! Or until someone taps out. Whatever works.”

Malleus looked utterly bewildered but amused. “I... see. But are you sure this is necessary?”

"Absolutely. I need to show you my strength." You tried to strike a dramatic pose, but the sword was way heavier than it looked.

Lilia, perched nearby, was barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this is too good.”

Malleus raised his hand. “Perhaps another time. I would not want to harm you.”

You frowned. “Harm me? Pfft. I’m tougher than I look, dragon boy.”

Scene 6: The Romantic Walk—Through a Thunderstorm

Malleus had one last idea. Humans, he’d read, liked romantic walks. That was simple, right? No vegetables. No poetry. Just a quiet stroll. What could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, he decided to take you for a walk through the forest on a day when the sky decided to unleash the full wrath of a thunderstorm. And because he was a fae, storms didn’t bother him.

You, on the other hand, were not a fan of being drenched to the bone.

The rain came down in sheets, lightning crackling overhead as you both trudged through the mud. You tried to keep your umbrella steady, but the wind whipped it inside out almost immediately.

“Malleus,” you called over the storm, shouting to be heard. “Why are we walking in this? Are you trying to drown me?”

Malleus, entirely unfazed by the downpour, turned to you, his face serious. “I thought a walk through nature would be a calming experience for you.”

You stared at him, your hair sticking to your face, clothes soaked through, and boots filled with mud. “Calming?! I’m about to be struck by lightning!”

He blinked, as if only now realizing the storm might be an issue for you. “Ah, I see. Humans are... more susceptible to storms. My apologies.”

“Ya think?” You huffed, clutching your now-ruined umbrella. “A ‘romantic stroll’ usually involves good weather.”

Malleus frowned, looking genuinely troubled. “I thought the power of the storm would inspire awe.”

“Yeah, it’s inspiring me to run back inside.” You sighed, shivering. “This is... sweet, I guess. But, uh, maybe next time we check the weather before planning any ‘romantic’ activities?”

As you struggled to wipe rain from your face, you caught a glimpse of Lilia again—he was standing under a tree, dry as could be, watching the scene unfold with glee. His mischievous grin practically radiated from the shadows.

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” you shouted toward him, but Lilia just waved, clearly loving the chaos.

Malleus, still deep in thought about his failed attempt at human courtship, suddenly looked serious. “Perhaps a different form of human bonding is needed next time.”

Behind you, Ace and Deuce were trailing a safe distance away, both dripping wet but trying to keep from laughing too loudly.

“Man,” Ace muttered, shaking his head. “They're gonna give the poor guy a heart attack one day.”

Deuce nodded solemnly. “Or he’ll get us all killed.”

After days of mutual confusion and failed courtship rituals, you found yourself, once again, sitting with Malleus in one of the school’s many quiet courtyards.

“Y’know,” you began, squinting at him. “I feel like you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Malleus gave you a similar look. “I’ve been thinking the same about you.”

You blinked. “Wait, me? What do you mean?”

“Well,” Malleus said, his brow furrowed, “you’ve been offering me... odd gifts. Vegetables. Challenging me to duels. Declaring intentions in public spaces. It’s... unusual.”

You froze. “That’s... fae courtship. I’ve been trying to... y’know...”

Malleus’ eyes widened. “You’ve been attempting to court me?”

Your face flushed. “Well, yeah! I thought you were acting strange, so I figured you were waiting for someone to, I don’t know, woo you.”

Malleus’ confusion quickly shifted to amusement. “I’ve been trying to court you this whole time.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re what?!”

“I believed you were in distress, so I attempted human courting rituals. Clearly, they didn’t go as planned.”

You both stared at each other for a long moment, the realization of mutual failure sinking in. Then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, and Malleus, after a moment, chuckled too.

“Well,” you managed between laughs, “we really suck at this.”

“Indeed,” Malleus agreed, his eyes warm with amusement. “Perhaps next time, we should... communicate better.”

“Yeah,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “That might help.”

From a safe distance, Lilia watched, his face beaming with pride. “Ah, young love,” he sighed dramatically. “How wonderfully chaotic.”

Ace shook his head, utterly done with the entire situation. “They’re hopeless.”

Deuce nodded in agreement. “At least it’s finally over... right?”

They're so stupid (affectionate)

Masterlist

#malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #malleus draconia x reader #malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x you #malleus draconia x you

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xinganhao · 1 day ago

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not for sale 💳 mingyu x reader. (3)

celebrity!mingyu and small business owner!reader. check out 🛒 not for sale's masterlist.

You can’t bring yourself to end the call.

Your phone is overheating. You’re below the acceptable battery threshold of twenty percent. And the dark-haired boy on the other end of the screen looks more asleep than awake.

You should end this call, but you can’t.

Mingyu doesn’t seem keen on ending it either. His eyes are drooping and his head has begun to loll every so often. He’d spent the first couple minutes of the call talking about his day— the seemingly endless rotation of engagements that came with being a celebrity.

Sometimes, it still strikes you as odd that this is the life you now lead. Being on FaceTime with somebody that hundreds, maybe thousands of people fawned over.

But you were friends… right? And friends called each other. Friends texted.

This is friendly, a small voice in the back of your head tries to convince you. So very, very friendly.

The conversation has since mellowed out. Mingyu makes good on his word; he falls quiet, observing your work like it’s some form of entertainment for him. At one point, you even forget he’s watching.

It’s why you’re a bit jolted when he absentmindedly mumbles, “You have nice hands.”

You pause in the middle of bubble wrapping an order. One cursory glance at your screen, and you see that Mingyu is absolutely fighting for his life to stay awake. The sight almost makes you smile.

“You should head to bed soon,” you say instead of addressing his compliment. “We’ve been on call for— what? Two hours, I think.”

Mingyu says something too low for you to catch. You give a noncommittal hum of ‘hmm?’, prompting him to repeat what he’d said.

And maybe he’s just tired enough to decide fuck it. Maybe it’s past midnight and that makes everything fair game.

Because Mingyu breathes out a quiet “not enough,” and you swear something screeches to a halt in your brain. Two hours. Not enough.

You swallow. He’s out of it, you think to yourself, your fingers quivering a bit as you cut, tape, seal. He’s sleep-deprived and talking out of his ass.

That’s what gives you the audacity to ask what’s been on your mind for days now.

“Mingyu,” you ask, “why do you want to be an ambassador for Bittersweet?”

A beat. One that stretches long enough for you to wonder if Mingyu had finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

But then, his voice— quiet, but not any less sincere— rings over the line. “Because I like your jewelry.”

Plain and simple. You’re not sure why you expected more.

He goes on, his tone a little softer, slower. “I like what you’ve done with the business. I like… how hard you work. Your passion. All that.”

Mingyu pauses to yawn. You glance over to see him smiling into his phone, his half-lidded gaze trained on your hands moving over your workbench. It makes his next words a one-two punch on your poor heart.

“Your brand may be called ‘Bittersweet’,” he says, “but you’re as sweet as they come.”

EXCERPTS FROM "MINGYU opens up on being named Rising Star of the Year"

Q: Earlier this year, the Internet fell in love with you for being an ‘advocate for small businesses.’ You’ve seemed to take it a step further, though.

MINGYU: [laughs] Is that what they’ve been saying? I had no idea. But, yes— the pieces I have on right now are from a small business. It’s called Bittersweet Jewelry, and it’s something I found one day while scrolling through SNS.

Q: You didn’t know the seller prior to purchasing?

MINGYU: No, not at all. They didn’t even know it was me. I used an alias for a while.

Q: I see. A lot of people believe your support has been reflective of your personality. Being caring, considerate.

MINGYU: That’s very nice. I appreciate that. Although, if I’m being honest, I’m just a guy who likes good jewelry. I admire consistency, quality. [holds up his rings] These have it in spades.

Q: That’s why you keep coming back to brands like Bittersweet.

MINGYU: Sure. We could say that.

[...]

THE TOP FIVE SONGS MINGYU HAS BEEN PLAYING ON REPEAT LATELY

Love Me Like That by Sam Kim

Linger by The Cranberries

Tadhana by Up Dharma Down

If You Do by GOT7

LMLY by Jackson Wang

[...]

Q: What do you look for in a partner?

MINGYU: Now, Minghao… [laughs]

Q: Sorry. The readers want to know.

MINGYU: I’m never going to escape this question, am I? Give me a minute to think about it.

Q: Sure.

MINGYU: [after a moment] I’d like somebody dedicated and passionate. Someone sweet. And…

Q: And?

MINGYU: Someone with nice hands, I guess. [smiles]

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#mingyu x reader #mingyu text imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt smau #seventeen smau #mingyu smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #── ᵎᵎ ✦ series: nfs

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ckret2 · 9 months ago

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Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said.

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him.

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle.

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old.

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief.

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

#bill cipher #the axolotl #(for the art)#human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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extinctionstories · 2 months ago

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Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth

The Cerulean Warbler isn’t extinct. It isn’t even officially classified endangered. The species is, however, one of over 1000 different birds listed as near threatened by the IUCN—a perilous group that includes nearly ten percent of all birds on earth. And, like many of those other species, the Cerulean Warbler’s numbers are declining.

Of the neotropical songbirds—those that migrate seasonally between North, South, and Central America—the Cerulean is the one disappearing at the most rapid rate. Once a relatively common bird, the commonest warbler in some places, the Cerulean has seen its population drop by an estimated 70% over the past fifty years—a plunge that can be tired directly to habitat destruction throughout its range, most notably by the coffee industry. (You may have heard of bird-friendly coffee, which is farmed using methods that help preserve vital habitat.)

Current estimates suggest that there are slightly more than half a million Cerulean Warblers left. Maybe that sounds like a lot; remember, though, we lost the passenger pigeon, a species that once numbered five to seven billion.

Unless more is done (unless so much less is done), it’s only a matter of time until this bird—until a thousand others—does become endangered, even extinct.

Not every species has yet had its name inscribed on the Red List, but all are at risk.

Ourselves included.

The title of this painting is The Meek. It is traditional gouache, on 18x24” watercolor paper.

#near threatened #cerulean warbler #traditional painting #bird art #birds

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kujiba · 4 months ago

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【Mew Mew Bitch】

୨୧ — ꒰ Cat!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

reader who gets transported into teyvat.. As a half cat human

Mondstadt / Liyue / Inazuma / Sumeru / Fontaine / Natlan / Snezhnaya

After your (not so) calm trip in mondstat, you decided it was finally time to stealthy leave the city in order to experience the full time adventure!

Seeing that you were free, Aether then took the chance and offered you to assist him and paimon in their later journeys around teyvat.

Having the creator of the world be their travel companion almost made paimon completely faint from shock! But to you it felt like a silly little adventure, so you agreed.

The next stop being the nation of contracts, Liyue.

Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing; Ningguang had heard about your coming arrival and instantly issued the most luxurious and attractive looking gifts that fitted just for you, she could care less about the price, No matter what the costs it will be done without hesitation for her God.

Despite all the effort, it definitely left ningguang dumbfounded to watch you ignore the jewelry that she had brought which would reach over 100,000,00 mora.. For a life size cat stand that a worker gave as a small token.

Of course their god would prefer something like this, their body is legitimately a human with cat ears and a tail.

Scratch all the previous plans, they're going to have to make a different approach now in order to get your affection.

Ganyu, a adepti working under ningguang felt curious about your cat like traits, specifically your cat ears. Was it like hers but just more furry and soft? Are people allowed to touch them? She needs to know it all.

And so an idea popped inside her head.

Using very simple knowledge, Ganyu and Shenhe would then begin to often fish at Mt.Aozang in the very morning to seize as many fish as possible as a treat for you, this often turned into a competition in who would gather the most fish for their god.

One thing that's certain is that your love at resting in tall heights never fades, the Millelith would get an ocean of reports with countless of witnesses saying that they had seen their creator resting at the roof of wangshu inn making Xiao work overtime to catch you when you accidentally slip off the edge.

Other times would be that xiangling would have to guard you while you joined her in catching ingredients for her next dish. One moment you're eating raw fish straight from the river, the next you're getting kidnapped by some random hilichurls that spotted you from a distance.

The amount of times that you nearly encountered death was enough for hu tao herself to come and approach you, advertising her business to you with a 10% discount for first time customers. She then got scolded for trying to do such blunt move on their creator

Qiqi likes to follow you around, asking if she could touch your ears or tail out of pure confusion, she just decided that you were similar to ganyu and then asked for cocogoat milk. Once you feel something tug the base of your tail you already know who's doing it.

Zhongli has his fair share with animal type companions, so it didn't really bother him much whether you're a cat or human, you're his divine creator! What DOES bother him is that whenever in the open world, you would jump on the rock pillars he would summon WHILE there is an on going fight with an enemy

99 percent of the time you'd just fall off the rock pillar but thankfully land on your two feet like always. However, Zhongli was ready to drop everything he had on him to come and catch you in less than a second

Let's not talk about the mountains.

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audliminal · 4 months ago

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Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost - Ao3

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing.

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

#dp x dc #the one where danny stumbles into a new universe and immediately guns for nasa #the unofficial title for this chapter is post-dimensional depression #suffice to say that he's got like... a LOT of baggage

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persevereforahappyending · 25 days ago

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A Legacies Regret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You frowned as you looked down at your phone, there were a handful of unread texts to Tara that went unread. The last message she sent to you was a simple ‘I love you’ after you told her you had a late shift. She wasn’t completely ignoring you, but it was weird for Tara to not check her phone, especially since Sam, and you, to an extent, had been insistent on her responding regularly. You pocketed your phone and got back to work, you told yourself she was just studying, maybe the others came over and she got caught up hanging out with them.

You threw yourself into work for the next few hours. It was Friday night, the weekend of Halloween, the bar had been slammed since before your shift started. You had been in New York for about six months, you had quickly found a job at a bar, and Tara and her friends started school in the fall. The two of you juggled as best as you could, taking advantage when you were both off, but somehow it seemed like you saw each other less than before, even though now you were actually living together.

When your shift was finally over you clocked out and shoved your tips in your pocket. You stepped out of the bar, despite being well after midnight the city was still alive and thriving. You glanced at your phone one more time, Tara still hadn’t even opened your messages. You sighed and shoved your phone back in your pocket before making the trek back to the apartment. You sold your car when you got to the city to save on money and strictly took the subway or walked everywhere.

After half an hour you finally reached the apartment complex. You stomped up each staircase until you finally reached the top floor. As you got to the top you rested your hand on the railing and winced, you all agreed on the apartment, stairs were better than an elevator, and the top floor was the safest, but the stairs did your knee no favors. You held in a groan as you let go of the railing; despite being fully healed and the ongoing physical therapy, you accepted your knee would just never be back to a hundred percent.

You unlocked the various locks Sam installed as soon as the three of you moved in and stepped inside. You shoved your keys back in your pocket as you walked down the hall and into the living room. You heard Quinn in her room, hooking up with a guy, which was nothing new. You furrowed your brow as you looked around the room, the TV was off, and it didn’t look like anyone had been there all day.

“Tara!” you called out. You waited a second but there was no answer. You tried not to let your paranoia takeover, there were plenty of times you got home and Tara as up late studying, her headphones on, completely lost in the music.

You got an uneasy feeling as you walked down the hall to your shared room. The door was partially cracked, and you nudged it with your foot, letting it slowly swing open the rest of the way. You peeked your head in, not stepping fully into the room, when nothing happened you finally took a step in. You furrowed your brow, the bed was still made from when you left, Tara’s laptop was closed and sitting on her desk. Her backpack was sitting next to her desk chair, proving that she did in fact come home after class, but there was no sign of Tara.

You perked up when you heard the front door open. “Tara?” you called out again. It was late, but it was a Friday night, and she might have gone out with the others to get something to eat. “Tara?” you made your way back towards the living room. You paused when you didn’t see your girlfriend but Sam standing there.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked tiredly.

You cautiously stepped into the room; you had been living with Sam for about six months and had gotten pretty good at reading her moods. You and Sam were by no means best friends, probably wouldn’t even consider yourselves friends at all, but you both learned to tolerate each other. Sam’s mood was particularly grouching this night, and you didn’t think it had to do with Tara not being home.

“Did Tara mention anything about going out?” you asked. You tried to keep your tone nonchalant just in case Tara had messaged Sam and not you.

“She’s not here?” Sam shouted. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, there went your last strand of hope. “Quinn!” Sam brushed right past you without another glance. “Quinn!”

The noises from the other girl’s room quieted down and a moment later the door creaked open. Quinn came out of her room, still in the middle of pulling her shirt down. “Sorry,” she said. “Were we to loud?” she gestured back at her room.

“Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn opened and closed her mouth a few times. “She came home,” she nodded.

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes at Quinn. “Where is she?” you asked.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party,” Quinn said hesitantly.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I begged her not to go to that!” Sam said.

You had been there for that conversation, if one could call it that, Tara had asked, Sam had said no, and Tara had started arguing. The argument ended like it always did, you trying to play peacekeeper and Tara storming off to the bedroom. You understood why Tara wanted to go to the party, it was her first year of college and it was probably the biggest frat party going on for Halloween, but you also didn’t disagree with Sam’s decision. You and Sam both worked late, you couldn’t go to the party with Tara, and you didn’t wany anything to happen to her.

“Did she at least take her taser?” Sam asked. You could see her visibly trying not to freak out. Sam had been overprotective, to say the least, ever since last year happened. Tara hadn’t been making it easy, but you could see Sam was truly trying to give her sister the space she desired.

“I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” Quinn answered.

You let out another sigh, even before Sam went and found said taser in the bowl on the table by the door you knew Tara hadn’t taken it. Out of all the things Sam asked of her you didn’t think carrying a taser around was too much. You were living in New York, anything could happen at any point in time, that wasn’t even considering the fact that all of you had survived a Ghostface attack. You felt like Tara just didn’t want to carry the taser because Sam wanted her to, just another way of Sam attempting to control her.

“I’m going to look for Tara,” Sam called out, grabbing her keys again.

“Wait,” you called out. “I’m coming with you.” You winced as you jogged to catch up to Sam.

Sam looked down at your knee and back up at you. “Do you need to grab your brace?”

You really wanted to, you probably needed to. You tried not to wear the brace too often; you didn’t want to become reliant on it. You only wore it when you were doing more strenuous activity than usual or if your knee was being particularly bothersome. “No time,” you waved her off. It would only take a moment to put on, but you didn’t want to stop when you had no idea if Tara was alright or not.

Sam hesitated a moment but eventually nodded. You and Sam didn’t exactly have deep and meaningful conversations, but she seemed to be the only one who noticed how much pain your knee caused you. Sam had actually been the one to buy you the brace. You had worked a long shift, your knee causing you more pain than usual after moving nonstop for hours when Sam tossed you the brace while you sat on the couch, your leg propped on the coffee table to rest it a bit.

You followed behind Sam on the way to the party, trying to keep up with her as best as you could. She finally slowed down when you got in front of a large house with music blasting and people spilling out of it. The door was already wide open when you and Sam walked in. Just as the two of you entered you saw some guy holding Tara by the arm and trying to drag her upstairs, with Chad quickly trying to interfere.

Before you could get to her Tara tripped at being dragged up the stairs and Chad yanked the other guy down. The man shoved Chad away and reached for Tara again, but Sam was right there and ready to tase him. Your eyes widened at the action, but you didn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long as Tara pushed past you and stormed out of the frat house.

“Wait,” you called out, quickly following after Tara. “Wait!” you winced as you sidestepped a drunk stumbling up the sidewalk.

“Tara!” Sam called out from behind you. You glanced back to see her and the others following behind.

“Can you just stop for a second?” you tried to ask as nice as possible. Tara was still walking away from all of you at full speed and at this rate she would soon lose you.

“Will you stop!” Sam snapped.

“I can’t believe you,” Tara snapped. She didn’t stop walking away but she slowed down enough to turn and look at Sam. “You just embarrassed me in front of everyone.”

“Come on,” Sam groaned. “That guy was a creep!”

“Nothing was going to happen!” Tara stopped, spinning around to finally face her sister.

“He was trying to take advantage of you!”

“Why do you care?”

You stepped back as Tara and Sam continued to argue back and forth. You eventually tuned them out, all their arguments started to sound the same when it was a weekly occurrence. You caught bits and pieces of the argument, Tara pointing out how Sam was gone for years and now that she was back couldn’t seem to leave Tara alone, while Sam kept trying to bring up seeing a councilor. You asked Tara about talking to a professional once and were quickly shut down, after that you dropped it. As much as you thought talking to someone would help Tara you didn’t want to force her, you just hoped that when she was ready, she’d come to you.

“I’m not going to let my life be defined by three days,” Tara snapped. Something about those particular words seemed to bring your focus back to the conversation.

When you looked up though Tara was already storming off. You jogged to catch up to her despite the protest of your knee. “Hey, look, I get it,” you started when you got to Tara’s side. “But don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“You’re just as bad!” Tara whipped around, making you stop in your tracks. You tried not to flinch at her harsh tone, Tara and you disagreed on things but neither of you had ever raised your voice at each other.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stumbled over your words. Tara was drunk and this clearly wasn’t the time to try having this type of conversation, you just need to keep her calm and get back to the apartment safely. “We just worry about you.”

“Well stop!” That time you did actually flinch at her words. “What happened happened,” she gestured around. “It’s in the past!” she gestured widely with her hand. “I’m trying to move on with my life, you all need to too.”

This time when Tara turned and stormed away you didn’t rush to catch up to her. You stood there for a moment, replaying Tara’s words in your head as the others passed you, Anika giving your shoulder comforting squeeze as she went with Mindy and Chad to catch up with Tara. You watched them walk away, just glad that at least someone was close on the rest of the walk home since Tara wanted nothing to do with you and Sam at the moment.

You sulked the entire way home and up to the top floor of the apartment complex. You were the last one to arrive to the apartment, after Tara told you to back off you took your time, not wanting to put any more strain than necessary on your knee. When you got inside Chad, Mindy, Anika, and Ethan were all on the couch, while Sam was in the kitchen, and Tara was nowhere in sight.

You silently walked through the living room and towards the bathroom. You dug around the medicine cabinet and finally found a bottle of Advil. You went back to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water before making your way to yours and Tara’s room. When you got to the door you gave a small knock.

“Come in,” came a whispered response.

You quietly opened the door and slipped into the room, making sure to shut the door behind you. “You don’t have to knock,” Tara said in a much softer tone than earlier. “It’s your room too.”

You walked further into the room and sat the water and Advil on the dresser. “Wasn’t sure what I was walking into,” you admitted. You leaned your back against the dresser, but your eyes were on the floor instead of Tara.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” she said kindly. “I just…” you glanced up to see her trying to gather her thoughts but quickly dropped your eyes back to the floor. “I don’t need you and Sam both being overprotective and always hovering over everything I do.” You could hear the slight irritation in her voice but unlike earlier she was trying not to snap at you.

“I’m fine,” she insisted again. “I just want to move on.” Tara stood up from the bed and made her way closer to you. “You’ve been different since the attacks last year.” You huffed out a laugh, you weren’t sure how you couldn’t possibly different after what happened. “I just want my girlfriend back,” Tara ran her hand down your arm until it was resting atop of your own hand. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Just three days,” you whispered, still not looking up at Tara.

“What?” Tara asked, you could hear the confusion in her voice.

“Just three days,” you looked up and stared right into her eyes. “That’s what you called it.” Tara furrowed her brow. “Just three days,” you gave a little shrug. “Do you know what I went through in those three days?”

Tears filled your eyes as you stared at Tara, waiting for her to answer you. She never did though, Tara remained silent, she didn’t need to answer you though, you knew she knew the answer to that question. “Within three days,” you continued. “My girlfriend was attacked.” This time it was Tara’s turn to drop her eyes to the floor. “I wasn’t there,” you shook your head. “I wasn’t there while the love of my life was lying there dying,” your voice cracked.

“Now, I get to spend the rest of my life hating myself for not being there,” you continued. “Every time I’m not with you, I worry about what could happen when I’m not there again.” Tara finally glanced up at you again. “Like tonight,” your voice got louder than intended, making Tara flinch ever so slightly. “I was at work, just like year,” you gestured, it wasn’t until this moment that you realized how similarly everything felt to last year. “When I got home, you weren’t here,” your voice almost cracked again. “And I got to run off with Sam to a frat party, only to see you being dragged up the stairs by some douchebag,” your voice got louder when you mentioned the guy from the party. “Once again, a reminder of what can happen when I’m not there,” you shook your head and let out a humorless chuckle.

You looked up at the ceiling as you tried to calm yourself down, willing the tears in your eyes to not fall. “I was also accused of murder last year,” you said without much emotion in your voice. “Accused of hurting you,” your voice cracked again at just the idea of someone thinking you’d ever hurt Tara. “By your friends. The only good thing to happen last year was that you didn’t believe them.” You looked back into Tara’s eyes again. “You never wavered on me.” You could see the love in Tara’s own tear-filled eyes as she clearly listened to every word. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” you whispered. “That on top of spending a year being told by your friends I wasn’t good enough for you and your sister coming back and instantly saying the same thing, is that every single one of them jumped on the idea of thinking I was the potential killer.”

You tried not to let it bother you at the time and even after, Tara had believed you and that was all that really mattered. No one ever apologized for accusing you though, even after it was revealed Amber was the one who was a psycho killer, not a single one of the others apologized to you. You didn’t expect an apology from Sam, you would have been more concerned if she did apologize actually. Chad and Mindy didn’t bother either though, you still weren’t close with them, though they had been a little nice to you since everything happened.

“Then on top of everything else,” you whispered. “Within those same three days, I learned who my parents were,” your voice cracked. “I spent my whole life thinking I was unloved, just tossed away like trash,” you gestured with your hand.

“Turns out, I’m the kid of two legacies,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “And my mom abandoned me because she chose her carer over me and my…” you trailed off as you choked on your words.

You cleared your throat and tried to distance any emotion you may have felt from what you were trying to say. “He was the nicest, most loving man there was, who would have done everything he could to be a good father, but he never even knew I existed,” your voice cracked despite your best efforts. “And when he found out.” Your eyes got distant as you remembered back to that day. “He never even got the chance to know me,” you whispered. “Because I pushed him away,” a single tear finally fell from your eyes. “Then he died.” You quickly wiped the tear away. “His last act was saving my life and then he died.”

Before Tara could say anything, you pushed yourself off the dresser and wiped the rest of the tears in your eyes as you walked around to your side of the bed. You grabbed your pillow and looked down, quietly debating if you needed to grab anything else. You shook your head and tucked the pillow under your arm then made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Tara asked, gently reaching for your arm before you could make it out of the room.

You sighed and turned to face Tara again. “I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. You didn’t wait for her to try apologizing or to talk you out of it, you simply turned on your heel and left the room without another word.

When you got back out to the living room you saw that, thankfully, everyone was gone, having gone home for the night. You dropped your pillow on the side of the couch you wanted to lay on then sat down. This would be the first night you didn’t sleep next to Tara since the attacks, you didn’t want this, but you felt it was needed. Tara wanted space and after tonight you needed time to clear your head, it was better this way.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I will be.” You truly believed that, you knew in your heart that you would be fine, that you and Tara would figure this out, the two of you just needed a small amount of distance, at least for a night to really think about everything. “Are you okay?” you looked over at Sam, suddenly remembering the look she had on her face when entering the apartment earlier.

Sam let out a humorless chuckle and took a seat at the dining table, that’s when you knew it wouldn’t be good. “I got fired.”

“From the diner?” Sam nodded and dropped her head in her hands. In the six months since all of you had gotten to New York Sam had been through several jobs; she was a decent employee it seemed, but something always came up that led to them letting her go.

“We’re looking for another bartender,” you offered. “If you’re interested.”

“You’re dating my little sister,” Sam said. “We live together and knowing I’m not your biggest fan, you seriously think working together is a good idea?”

You shrugged, Sam did sort of have a point. “The money is good.” That wasn’t going to stop from suggesting the idea though. “Besides, we’ll probably be on rotating days, except for when we’re busy,” you added. “We might actually see less of each other.”

Sam smiled at that, seeming to like the idea a little more. “Thanks,” she mumbled as she got up from the dining table and made her way to her own room.

You smiled to yourself then hit the light for the living room. You settled back down on the couch, this time stretching out to take up the whole area. You pulled the blanket down off the back of the couch and wrapped it around yourself. You laid your head back down against your pillow and silently hoped for a rare non-restless sleep as you closed your eyes. You tried not to think about anything that happened earlier and just focused on falling asleep.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #a legacies regret

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drewsbraziliangf · 3 months ago

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don’t try this at home | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: no one never tells you how much a broken heart hurts. how you feel like you could die from how much pain it causes you and dealing with it mostly alone serves as a constant reminder of what life could've been.

a/n: Here’s part 2 of nothing to say when heaven falls, heavily inspired by ‘in the kitchen’ by Renee Rapp. I want to thank you all sooooo much for the love on the first part I’m still taking it all in💖

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

It had been seven months since the both of you broke up - more like you decided to call it all off and he just watched.

A part of you felt broken beyond repair. It felt like everywhere you looked you could see his stupid blue eyes and damned smile. As if your brain couldn't cope with his absence anymore and began to force you to picture him everywhere you went. Wether it was in someone holding the door for you, a stranger complimenting your hair, a song on the radio that you knew he’d sing along as he drove. It felt like you were dancing with his ghost. Like life happened around you but you were stuck in the kitchen where you last saw him. It was just you and the bittersweet memories.

You never knew how his family took the news of your break up, Brooke was the one who reached out to you and said that she was sorry things had happened that way. But after that everything was radio silent and you preferred it that way. It hurt less when the living reminders of him weren’t too keen on keeping up with your life anymore. They had no reason to do that anyway.

But nothing hurt more than when you began to call everything off with the contractors. The venue, the buffet, the band that would be playing, the decoration crew, photographers and wedding planners. That broke you because you could feel their pity through each and every single call. Like every time you dialed a number, the knife was piercing the open wound again.

It didn’t take long for you to move back into the apartment you rented before you had moved in with him. Slowly life was stable again. Wake up, walk in the park, work, diner, sleep. Repeat.

You also deleted most of your social media profiles and created brand new ones. You didn't want to think of how long until people realized that you were cutting online ties to any one connected to him and they started asking questions. You wanted to remain invisible at last.

Still that wasn't enough. Every other day when your best friend, Frankie, posted a picture or a video where you were in she would immediately tell you that he had liked it. Every time for the last month and a half. You didn't know if you liked to be informed of that or not, if you were honest.

Sometimes you hated yourself for leaving like you did, but in most days you asked yourself how you managed to stay that long? Of course you loved him and was one hundred percent ready to be with him in the long run, but the sudden dismiss of your relationship as soon as Odessa was in the picture was a real deal breaker. Even if you had tried to ignore and move past it, both of them seem to keep on pushing your buttons more and more.

Moving back to this apartment was a blessing and a curse. You were glad that the lender was a nice lady and accepted your application again. You loved the neighborhood and the neighbors, so you were relieved that this part you were able to recover.

Unlike the place you shared with Drew, this one barely had memories of him. So it was easy to ignore his absence in your home. The thought of your shared apartment brought a strange kind of pain to your heart. So many plans, memories and dreams that you for your future now sat alone. All of them waiting for a different kind of closure - one you weren’t sure they’d ever get.

There were pieces of furniture that used to decorate that address that you had brought with you. And on them you could feel him linger, like he was a ghost lurking by the corners waiting for you to acknowledge him again. You never did.

Weeks came and went as the breeze that passed by. None of them too significant. One failed date here and there, bar trips with Frankie, catching up with family members. Routine wasn’t hard to follow when you didn’t have anything else to focus on, it gave you a sense of normalcy. That’s how you found yourself sighing at your friends words on the speaker phone.

“Come on, it will be fun!” She points out, “And you might even find someone you’ll like.”

Frankie had been trying to convince you on the past few days to go to this party in a private club that she was invited and could take a plus one. You did enjoy going to some bars but clubs were never your scene, but you knew that with her insistence you’d end up caving in soon or late.

“Frankie, you know that I don’t enjoy this kind of things too much,” you argue as you serve yourself some pasta. “Besides, I have that presentation at work that I need to focus on.”

“That’s not coming up for another two weeks, I’m sure you can take one day to live. You’re young and gorgeous, you shouldn’t be locked up on a Friday night.”

You giggle at that. Ever since you told her what had happened with your previous relationship, she made it her mission to get you to meet as many guys as possible. Half of the times you managed to back out and the ones you did you’d find yourself under someone you were sure that you’d only see once.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You ask with a small sigh as you shake your head.

“Be ready by nine, hun.” She says, and you can clearly hear the excitement in her voice, and then she hangs up.

This was everything you didn’t know you needed. The sweaty bodies dancing on the main floor, loud chatter all around and the strong smell of alcohol surrounded you.

Everyone seemed pretty in sync with each other here and, as Frankie held your hand, the both of you headed to the bar. When you arrived, you realized that the both of you had a very different perception of what small was. This place had at least one hundred and twenty people in, all with different styles and ages.

Frankie was taller than you, with legs and a waist to die for. She drew attention anywhere she passed by with her long blonde hair, at work people called her a bombshell, since she did look like a modern version of Gisele Bündchen. You became friends not long after you moved to Connecticut. As it was closer to New York and your then fiancé, had many meetings and events in the city. Both of you working in a corporate position at one of the many offices that were spread downtown. As the two of you were closer in age, it didn’t take much for a friendship to blossom between you both.

“I’ll have two caipirinhas,” she said to the bartender with the cutest little accent.

At the name of the specific drink from your native country, you looked around and realized that the party was somewhat tropical themed, so having a drink that was heavy on lime and sugar made sense.

You were glad that your outfit wasn’t standing out too much. The skirt barely covered your behind, but somehow the soft fabric made you feel comfortable as it wasn’t clinging to your skin as a the leather option you tried earlier would. Summer was insanely hot this year and the less the better.

Once your drinks arrived, she handed you one and the both of you walked towards one of the empty seats a little far away from the bar.

Conversation between the two of you flew lightly and it was always good to talk with Frankie. She understood you in ways no one ever had, there was never judgment coming from her. Even when you broke down in front of her when your relationship ended. She was your family away from home.

She also felt confident in sharing with you her fears and struggles as a single mother. Her boyfriend had passed away a year and a half ago in an accident and left her with a little boy to raise. Hayden her pride and joy and you knew how hard she worked to provide him with the best there was. You were more than glad to help her whenever she needed, you loved the both of them endlessly.

As the hours passed by the party became more packed than it was when you arrived, now you could barely walk between the damp bodies. So that made your trip to the bar for new drinks twice as long.

The bartender acted on automatic as he took your order once more, and for a moment you felt bad for coming here again. So many voices and sounds around you that you questioned yourself how he was able to understand each order correctly.

You tapped your colored nails against the glass countered as you waited, trying not to focus too much on what was happening around you. And that was how you felt it before you’ve seen it.

The strong smell of a very specific cologne. You didn’t dare to turn your head as the smell flooded your senses, hopefully it would be just a coincidence, right? I mean, what are the chances?

But it seemed like you have zero support from the universe tonight because the voice ordering a Sazerac besides you was very familiar. Familiar as you had heard it groaning in your ear as your legs were wrapped around someone’s waist.

Fuck.

Was it too late for you to make an escape? Thankfully, the spot you and Frankie were sharing was to your left so you looked back in that directly only to see her wide eyes staring right back at you.

Fuck.

Where the hell was this bartender?

You looked ahead again and allowed your eyes to briefly look down to your right. That goddamned gold signet ring.

Fuck.

Suddenly you didn’t want to drink anymore. Not when you felt a very familiar gaze burning into you.

No escape.

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otkuhotgirl · 6 months ago

Text

─── 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 .

# with roronoa zoro.

after one harsh encounter with the marines, the merry presented malfunctioning in many areas — one of them being the water supply. baths then became shared and scarce. zoro thought he’d have no problem with it; he wasn’t the cook. of course, that was until he saw you naked.

⎰ & fem!reader. smut. solo!male masturbation. edging. oral (male receiving). water play, i guess? bathtub sex. voyeur!sanji at the end.

W.C: 4K.

when the cannonball neared the merry’s hull, none thought much of it. the cook had managed to change its trajectory with one of his irritating kicks, and the explosion was swallowed by the sea with utmost diligence. nami’s instructions led them far from the destroyed marine ships. chopper mended some minor gashes. usopp began to hammer some nails into the damaged deck. you were scolding luffy for his recklessness. robin returned to her book. and zoro himself sat somewhere secluded to take a nap.

nothing was amiss, as that had been but another day for the strawhats.

the peace that followed thereafter was odd, yet welcoming, until the first stars shone above their heads and nami screeched from her spot in the bathroom. half-covered with a towel, the navigator was wide-eyed as she dragged usopp to the showering area, begging him to fix whatever was wrong with the water’s flow.

as predicted, he had no idea what was to be done whatsoever. there was a motive behind the desperation to recruit a shipwright: merry had gathered severe damages through the journey, and it was more a patched wreck than a proper ship at that point. without one to care for it with the demanded professionalism, it would crumble within the month.

the additional harm from the earlier battle was but a droplet in an overflowing mug. the situation was frustrating, of course, yet not one of surprises. after punishing sanji with a punch to the head, nami accessed what was meant to be done next, creating a bathing schedule based on the remnant water. as the distance from the closest island was unknown, and considering that sanji would need a fair amount of water for the meals, baths were to be taken once per five days.

zoro and luffy themselves could not have cared less for that condition, as both were unused to bathing twice a week. chopper and usopp, too, had decent intervals of three days before cleaning themselves. which led to the cook and nami — who were both voicing their discontentment —, and you and robin, who somehow managed to hide it better.

when the long-awaited time to bathe — at least for some — at last arrived, a particular mistake left the crew at an impasse. sanji and usopp shared the bathroom earlier, both too eager, to remind the rest of the male members that they were supposed to join. which meant that the “garbage duo”, as nami voiced out, hadn’t showered. inviting chopper was one thing. extending such courtesy to the men in question was another one entirely.

“i don’t even like showering!” luffy had complained, having his ear gripped by one very enraged nami.

“there’s no way i’m allowing either of you to avoid what’s coming. the entire ship smells like carrion, and the pair of you are at least seventy percent responsible!” she rebuked, although not moving towards the bathroom in the slightest.

“the shitty cook was the one who kicked that damned cannonball!” zoro spat, intervening for the honor of his natural scent — or stench.

“HUH?! WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN, MARIMO?!”

foreheads pressed against one another, smoke swirling from the cook’s lit cigarette. zoro reached for his sword as the other man raised a leg. was it not for robin’s intervention — her next words enough to fill the cook with desperate envy —, the pair would have engaged in one of their countless and predictable fights.

“the bathtub is large enough to fit in six,” she pointed out, as the entire crew held its breath, awaiting for nami’s response.

“NO WAY IN HELL—” the cook began to scream all of the sudden.

“sanji, i’m thirsty,” you interrupted, becoming the object of his devotion. zoro scowled.

“i’ll fetch you a beverage right in this second, my seastar!”

he ran to the inside of the ship, leaving a sudden silence that allowed the involved crewmates to unravel what was at stake.

the navigator pondered the suggestion, sighing as her glance shifted from zoro to their captain, still a victim of her grip on his earlobe. “i’m not sure. a bath with men and women…”

“neither i nor luffy care to bathe,” zoro stated, placing one hand on his nape as he shut his eyes, preparing himself for a nap.

he felt nami’s fist meet the crown of his head. “you will be taking a bath today, walking pigsty!”

zoro placed his palm above the pained area. “WITCH!”

“it’s just luffy and zoro,” chopper pointed out, observing from where he stood, glued to your leg.

lucky guy.

“we don’t have the luxury of wasting water for three baths in a day,” you chimed in, patting the reindeer’s head as he beamed at you, grateful for the support.

nami sighed. “i suppose, if it’s fine for the rest of you.”

due to the overall agreement, the members who yet needed to bathe gathered in front of the door. luffy left no space for awkwardness whatsoever as he kicked it open, bouncing with his fists raised to the air. the unusual excitement was due to the perspective of engaging in a silly water fight — one robin had alluded to in order to convince him.

zoro had been the last in line, and before he could enter the fuming bathroom, sanji gripped the hem of his crumpled shirt, face in a tone of red as he pressed their foreheads together, his expression holding nothing but rage.

“if you dare to do a single weird movement towards our beautiful ladies—”

“i’m not you, perv cook,” he snarled, matching the man’s fervor.

“oi, you two! quit it,” nami shouted from the inside.

zoro grinned all of the sudden, stepping back from sanji’s vicious grip, not once daring to tear his glance from the cook, all too proud to have vexed him so much. he would enjoy the shared space, if only by knowing that sanji would be fuming somewhere in the ship.

he, at last, closed the door, absentmindedly removing his clothes. zoro could hear the splash as luffy sent water everywhere, immediately being scolded by nami, worried about the waste. chopper was humming happily as robin scratched the fur between his horns, and you—oh, fuck.

zoro had to dive in with haste, splashing even more water with his addition to the bathtub. nami shouted at him, yet his mind didn’t process a single word. because you had neither foam nor vapor covering your figure, offering zoro a clear sight of your breasts and legs and the shadow of your pussy.

he shut his eyes, tensing up. the reason behind the mutual decision of that shared bath was due to his and luffy’s lack of interest in trivial manners such as sex and gender divergence. zoro shouldn’t react to your presence that way; it was vile and disrespectful, and a behavior that resembled the cook’s too much for his likings.

you were attractive, of course. zoro had known that from the first instance his glance met yours. you were also strong. and a pleasant companion. and smart. and your nipples were hardening up due to the coldening water. and—damn it!

luffy somehow had the worst timing known by mankind, as his playful actions in the bathtub shoved you straight into zoro’s side. the bare skin of your arm brushed against his own and he nearly combusted. the swordsman had to press the back of his head against the bathtub’s border so that his eyes were trailed to the ceiling instead.

he should have never agreed to this. he should have known better. nami had pointed out weeks prior that reciting your favorite color and food; your sleeping schedule; the things you needed; the chores you hated the most; was something that pointed out to one very obvious four-word feeling. he should have listened to her. damn him and his meaningless pride.

the bath lasted no longer than twenty minutes — the water was precious after all —, yet zoro felt as though he had lost a decade of his lifespan from the second he entered that bathtub to the moment his crewmates started to take their leaves.

he felt you move from his side, and stupidly opened one eye, only to be graced with the full view of your naked body before you covered it with a towel.

again. eyes shut. clenched jaw. he was both in heaven and hell all at once.

“don’t forget to drain the water before you leave,” he heard nami instruct from somewhere.

despite the crew having left the tub, zoro remained glued to his position. oddly enough, his lingering wasn’t frowned upon — merely ignored. perhaps they figured he had fallen asleep.

zoro had never been more awake in his damned life.

once alone, the swordsman started to fist his cock with a vicious grip, teasing the leaking tip with a press of his thumb. he sunk his teeth on the back of his hand, muffling groans of pleasure. he gripped his erection, moving his hand up and down. the water made the movements of his calloused palm smoother; faster, even. yet, he remained just as hard, the lack of release bringing forward a jolt of pain.

glimpses of your figure danced around his closed lids. he thought of those hardened nipples and pictured himself latching his mouth to them, his tongue swirling and biting and sucking, claiming your flesh through a trail of bruises. zoro’s hips jolted at the idea, and he moaned due to the pondering of your legs intertwined with his own; your breasts jumping in sync with your body as you rode him, gripping his shoulders; bouncing on his cock.

he’d have a bruising grip on your ass, guiding your movements, matching them, even — plummeting into you in the exact moments where you sank on his shaft.

zoro’s pace quickened, chasing a release that refused to come. you arched your back in his mind, echoes of your pleasure gracing his ears, nails scratching on his back and eyes glistening with satisfied tears. zoro pictured his tongue in your face, drinking on those same tears with the desperation of a wanderer in the desert.

his cock twitched. you’d cry and beg for more, voicing out his name with a tone of undeniable desire. zoro. zoro. zoro.

“zoro, have i left something—” the handle turned, and he froze.

hand still violently latched to his erection, zoro turned his head towards your surprised figure by the doorway, his throat going dry. you were dressed, clutching to your towel, and as much as he wished to apologize — to say anything — his voice was lost as his treacherous eyes drowned in your figure, unable to ignore the flashes of what laid under the fabric of your clothes.

“‘m sorry, thought you wanted me for something,” you mumbled closing the door behind you.

“huh?” he inquired, dumbfounded.

“you were chanting my name, so i thought—”, you stopped yourself mid-phrase, closing your eyes as if that would grant you courage. “do you? i mean, want me for something?”

could he? zoro swallowed, unsure despite the ache of his cock. he was not that great of a man — hell, there were times he was rather the devil incarnate —, yet there you stood, still dripping from the previous bath, an expectation-filled expression, yearning for him; wishing for a positive answer.

the thought of having you was such a blasphemy that his lust increased. zoro was an undeserving shell of a man who had been blessed with a treasure. one awfully desirable treasure of flesh and sweat and sounds he oh so yearned to hear.

drool connected his hand to his lips as he answered, voice rasping against his throat. “c’mere.”

no other instruction was needed. you caught on his urges with a swift glance, removing your clothes as you approached his spot at the tub. neither hesitation nor embarrassment were suitable between the pair of you. ten minutes prior, you were bare in front of his starved eyes and sharing a bath with four others. when your feet submerged, then, your legs, and at last, your torso, zoro’s arms encircled your waist, causing you to straddle him as you’d done in his mind.

reality made for far much pleasant sight.

yet he had no time to observe it properly, as you started to pepper kisses down his chest, inching closer to his awaiting cock. zoro expected you to replace his hands with yours, and failed to hold a surprised groan when he saw you lower your face underwater and guide your lips to his tip.

that was madness. how were you to breathe down there? but you had stolen the worry from his mind once you dragged your tongue through the entirety of his erection, before swallowing him completely. he gripped his hair and clawed at his own skin, head falling back and a grunt leaving his lips at the sensation. zoro could neither move nor touch you, otherwise, he’d surely end up fucking your throat — a dangerous thing, considering how scarce the air in your lungs was.

so, for once, he spared you an ounce of control.

your hand squeezed his balls, a thumb teasing the sensible inch of flesh between them. your tongue swirled around his tip, while the other hand spared some attention to the neglected extension of his shaft. with an accidental buckle of his hips, zoro shoved his dick inside, and the gag you let out brought bubbles of air to the surface.

zoro couldn’t quite see you, which was a terrible shame. yet, he could feel your lips doing its magic. hollow cheeks and careful teeth. a swift palm gripping his shaft and moving it up and down. a warm tongue enveloping the rest of him. he grunted out of the pleasure and desperation to touch you, marveled to witness the rise of your face above water, gasping for air; hand still on his cock.

he could not have you returning there, as much as his primal instinct shouted otherwise. zoro needed to have you in his arms, despising the consequences that forced him to be meek and composed, measured movements that didn’t mirror the reciprocal need.

“have i done something you disliked?” you inquired, puzzled at the interruption, hesitating to touch him further.

the swordsman dragged your figure back to his lap, scoffing as if you had offended him. “there’s nothing you could do to me that i wouldn’t like. we clear? don’t fucking think that again.”

zoro wasn’t sure where to first guide his hands. he was a man capable of handling three swords at once, yet the indecisiveness clawed at him. with a grin, observing your awaiting face, he decided to wield you as he would his steel.

zoro’s mouth clashed against yours, pushing his tongue inside and swallowing the gasp of surprise born from his touch. it was the sea meeting the rocks at the shore; his teeth colliding with your own as his lips claimed you with bruising force.

his first hand groped your breast, a finger pinching at the hardened nipple. zoro rolled a thumb over it, pleased with the elicited reaction. his other hand busied itself with a fistful of your ass, nails digging into the flesh as he parted it open.

your back arched, inching your chest closer. zoro growled, biting on your lower lip before latching his sinful mouth to your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin and soothing the bruises with a warm tongue.

you started to move your hips, chasing friction, gripping his shoulders as if he was the solemn thing tethering you to that realm. zoro observed your face, contorted due to the pleasure, and was left wide-eyed. zoro cursed deities he had no faith in, for he wasn’t born with the talent to draw or write or sing, therefore unable to immortalize that singular expression; to praise your existence as you deserved it to. the swordsman wondered if you’d appreciate him if he wrote your name with the blood of those who dared to cause you harm. violence was the language he spoke. it also happened to be one you understood.

zoro felt the vibrations of the water sent to his muscles through the small jets of the tub, noticed the continuous teasing waves. he wondered, was he capable of fucking you with your cunt positioned close to it?

he swallowed. “you trust me?”

“with my life,” you answered, whimpering as your cunt slid effortlessly on his thigh.

zoro gripped your hips, turning your body without struggle. he trailed kisses down your back as you gripped the edge of the tub, with your cunt strategically placed near one of the jets. zoro pressed his chest against your back, two of his digits sliding into your awaiting folds. he moved them up and down — searching —, until he found the bundle of nerves. zoro’s lips brushed above your earlobe, blossoming goosebumps brought from his hot breath.

“how?” he inquired roughly. how do you like it?

your voice failed as you answered, the instructions broken due to a choir of moans caused by the stimulation from both his fingers and the water jet. zoro pressed himself closer, panting as he bucked his hips, seeing stars from the smallest contact.

“wish i could take my time,” zoro rasped, observing the muscles of your back. “wanted you to squirm under me a little longer.”

you moaned as he fastened the pace of one finger, while sliding the reminiscent digit to your entrance, accessing the lubrification. zoro fingered your cunt with awe, observing as the crystalline water was tainted white.

“m-more,” you begged, cranning your head to try and catch a glimpse of him. “you. need you.”

zoro grinned, licking on the lonesome droplets of water on your back. “you have me.”

“don’t make me say it.”

he stopped the movement of his fingers, retrieving the one who was once inside of you. you whimpered at the absence, to curse him thereafter.

“i need your cock,” you snarled, and zoro shuddered with anticipation, aware that he’d enjoy demolishing such attitude.

he positioned himself at your entrance, careful as not to remove your figure from the water jet. zoro’s least intention was to hurt you during your first time, and the stimulus from the vibrations guaranteed that he wouldn’t.

the swordsman was a man of composure. yet, as your walls enveloped his cock, he had to grip the edges of the tub in order not to move before your allowance. his teeth dug on the flesh of your shoulder, and you whimpered, eyes shut closed. he had never seen a prettier sight.

your chest rose and fell, nipples pressed to the tub’s surface. he buried his nose in your nape, hating the industrial scent from your perfume, wishing for nothing but to ruin you; to defy the structure of nature and fuck you enough to have you covered in sweat despite the cold water that surrounded you both.

“move,” you said through gritted teeth, although reconsidering right after. “please.”

“aren’t you a quick learner?” zoro mocked, a smug smile etched on his features.

he observed the gears turning your head. the answer at the tip of your tongue. and then he stole your capacity to speak.

whatever sentence you meant to utter melted and gave way to a luscious moan. zoro thrusted into you with diligence and precision, ignoring the ache of his knees as he removed his shaft until the tip, only to hammer it yet again, drunk in the way your pussy hugged his cock — starving, desperate, demanding to be filled. it was not the sweet beckoning of a lover, but the challenge of a rival. he marveled at the sound of your moans; at the white essence that pooled between the pair of you.

again and again, his cock rammed into you. zoro’s hands gripped your waist, his teeth on your shoulders, muffling the broken cacophony of his voice. you tried to adjust your hips in order to match his pace, yet your movements were sloppy.

the sound of his balls meeting your ass was overtaken by the splash of water, crystalline and fluid upon its entrance, and an ivory cream in its egress.

zoro drew circles in your clit, regardless of the odd angle to his wrist, movements growing ever so sloppy as you clenched on his cock, guiding him to the gates of heaven. the water jet, the teasing of your clit, his never-ending pace, and his shaft sliding through your cervix ruthlessly were an overstimulation of itself. your eyes were filled with tears, and you had to cover your mouth in order to muffle a shout of pleasure.

he clicked his tongue in disapproval, slapping your hand. zoro pushed two fingers inside of your lips and tore them open, your jaw growing slack; exhausted vocal cords.

“don’t you dare cover those sounds,” he demanded, shoving his cock deeper. “i want to hear you sing for me.”

you babbled the syllables of his name — or so he figured — crying into the edge of the tub. your choir of disharmony sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body, similar to those gained during battling, and zoro forced your ass to meet the pace of his cock, slapping and splashing added to the orchestra of that moment.

zoro was close. he felt the cum threatening to spill as though a half-opened faucet, tears of his own pooling in his eyes as he tried to hold it back, if only for the sake of watching you crumble first.

a muffled sound — not yours, and definitely not his — managed to break through his concentration. zoro halted all of the sudden, to which you whimpered and cursed. his ears peaked up, a grin of pure mischief dominating his features once he realized who had produced such a thing.

“shitty cook’s watchin’ us,” he groaned close to your earlobe, eyeing the subtle crevice of the door.

you sent a dazed glance towards the cook’s not-so-hidden position, and zoro heard him whine at the sight.

“lemme give him a proper show. you can take it, right?” yet it was not a question per se, and rather an affirmation.

zoro gave his knees a break, sitting on the tub. he dragged you with him, somehow managing to keep his dick inside. you fell on his lap, back against his chest; head pending to the sides above his shoulder. zoro dragged his canines along your pulsing point, and you whimpered. somewhere, zoro heard the cook whine. the swordsman gripped your hips and started to guide your bounces, matching the imposed rhythm with his hips. he eyed the door with a grin, fingers lazily teasing your folds as you rode him, moaning with your eyes closed.

zoro licked the salty tears dripping down your cheeks, observing you squirm with a sense of pride.

“‘m c-close,” you whined, and he increased his pace, grunting as your walls tightened around his cock.

“touch yourself,” he voiced, unable to do so as one of his hands guided your hip and the other circled your clit.

you complied, groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, arching your back. the movement had shifted your position on his cock, allowing him to slam deeper into you.

a streak of blonde hair broke through the door. zoro shifted, offering an entire view of your figure to the cook. his grip tightened, glance menacing. zoro heard the fisting of the other man’s cock, grinning to himself. the cook had to pleasure himself with the thought of you; forced to witness your tits bouncing and face contorted in pleasure, yet never given the chance to touch you. to taste you.

zoro came without warning. his seed dripped from your hole and he fastened his fingers, allowing you to reach your own ecstasy. you fell limp on him, chest moving heavily in an attempt to gather your thoughts. still with his softening cock inside, zoro moved afar from the shared cum that floated on the water, marveling at the trail of his seed that accompanied your cunt.

with some possession, he gripped the side of your neck, mumbling nonsense against your skin. his lips sucked softly on the tender spots, and though you hummed in dazed delight, zoro noticed the crease of your forehead.

“trying to mark me, zoro?”

he grinned, eyes glued to the door. “already did. mine to touch, aren’t you?”

you hummed in agreement, but zoro wasn’t taking any of that. still with your walls around his dick, he raised his hips on purpose. you yelped, gripping his arm.

“aren’t you?”

“yes, i am yours to touch, fuck—”

the swordsman heard the cook’s steps. he could have the sight of your naked figure engraved into his restless mind. zoro didn’t care; not when he had the real thing.

— 🐈‍⬛ : hi, welcome to chili’s. don’t ask me the color of anything. i ෆ men who whimper.

#one piece #op #op x reader #op x y/n #op x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro imagine #zoro x reader #op zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro #roronoa zoro

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