#mayhaps i would die for him

[solar-evant]

I've fallen into this particular pit of madness for the third time. I guess I shall finally succumb to the sweet call of percy jackson...

well, time to make a percy jackson blog!

[snekdood]

any and all types of flies in my house deserve to perish <3

[yuansie]

(3) even when there was rain, sunshine came

pairing. caleb x fem! childhood friend! non mc! reader (x childhood bsf! zayne)

synopsis. caleb planted a seed in your heart when you were both young, nurturing it without meaning to until it sprouted and blossomed. it shouldn't have grown this much, not when you knew you could never have him.

genres/aus. angst, fluff, f2l, unrequited love, childhood f2l

warnings. mentions of death, attending (a) funeral(s), lots of crying, reader goes down an emotionally unavailable time period but worry she feels better afterwards, small and and brief mentions of hatred oops, and cursing bc someone now does that double oops! if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

rating. pg-13 whoops.

wc. 5 k

a/n. not proof read as always lol also... mayhaps a double update is coming... maybe... also that last bit may be wonky bc obvi i havent graduated from uni yet so ion know how that looks like WHOOPS ❤️‍🔥

your fifteenth spring teaches you the reality of what it is like to truly mourn for someone. the news came to you in the midst of exams week at the aerospace academy, and it came to you in the form of your dad’s lieutenant colonel—his best friend. when you open the door to your dorm, you knew what it meant when you saw the man stand before you, his cap tucked in between his arm and side, his gaze downcast. your ears rang so loudly that you didn’t hear when he apologized.

and the rest of that week went by in a blur.

you took your exams and promptly prepared for the funeral the farspace fleet would give your dad in skyhaven.

it was an odd feeling.

attending your dad’s funeral in skyhaven was like a nightmare, a surreal experience that you wanted to wake up from. you always thought your dad would die of old age and be buried in bloomshore’s cemetery, long after retiring. yet, here you are: at the farspace fleet, watching as the general gave a speech about the brightest alum of the aesrospace academy and the best colonel he had the pleasure of training when he was a lieutenant. honestly, you don’t even pay attention to the old man. you know your mom isn’t either. you pay attention to the casket, the way the polished surface shines brightly against the unforgiving sun.

it’s an odd thing: attending a funeral when there is nothing in the casket.

because your dad died in the deepspace tunnel, the only casualty of the patrol team he was leading. you heard of his pilots’ recounts of the event, heard of it from his second-in-command. everything was normal, everything was going smoothly. then, the space felt weird. everything felt still for a second.

there was a vibration in the air, a low hum that intensified.

“your father gave the order for the patrol team to turn back.” a pause. “we were turning around when a vortex opened and…”

the deepspace tunnel.

what an unpredictable and unforgiving thing.

you blink, and suddenly there are people you’ve never seen before giving you their condolences.

“i’ll be organizing a small funeral for your dad,” your mom mumbles to you in between the shower of apologies you receive and the pitying gazes.

you glance at her. “do you need help?”

she shakes her head. “it’ll be small… just family.”

you suck a breath in and your finger twitches in your lap. “can zayne—”

“his family will be there,” she grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “they’re family, too. do you want caleb there?”

caleb.

there is a tinge of anger that tugs at the strings of your heart, searing ardently within you.

even now, when you think you can move on from the idea of him—the thought of him—he still manages to slither back in some way.

you shake your head. “no. i just want zayne there.”

what’s it to caleb, anyways?

he stopped caring in eighth grade, so he won't care now.

and you don't have time to mourn over a living person who broke your heart.

your mom was quick to organize your dad’s funeral. a week later, while you’re on spring break, you find yourself at the kitchen table with your mom.

“what do you want in the casket?”

you tilt your head at her question. “excuse me?”

she continues filling out some paperwork. “what do you want to put in his casket for tomorrow? i’m putting in his awful collection of vinyls.” she chuckles, but you see the slight tremble in her fingers.

your dad often joked that he’d like to be buried with his vinyls so no one else could have them—he mostly said that because his best friend always eyed them when they were students in the academy.

what do you want to bury?

you think of his cap, the one that sits in your dorm right by the picture of zayne you have on your desk.

“nothing.” you finally say. “i… don’t want to put anything in the casket.”

you want to keep your dad by your side, you don't want to forget him.

“okay.”

and this time around, the funeral feels real.

your throat feels tight, your heart beats faster than usual. the sky weeps along with your heart, you feel like the world is spinning too quickly and that you’re about to sink down.

everything feels like a mess.

your mom stands to your right, her eyes fixed on the casket that’s being lowered into the ground. she moves forward, standing in front of the pit. she says something you cannot hear, kisses the white flower in her hand and lets it fall inside.

a squeeze breaks you out from your daze, warmth seeping into you. from the corner of your eye, zayne nods at you. with a gulp, you take a step forwards, then another until you're in front of the pit. you stare down at the casket.

this is too real.

standing in front of his casket makes it too real.

the man who called you his little star, the man who wasn't always around but tried to be, the man who never read you the classic bedtime stories and instead told you about the different jets in the fleet, the man who made you fall in love with the sky, the man who loved you more than anyone ever will and proudly told you that as if it were an undeniable fact—he is dead.

your dad is actually gone.

dead.

and your knees give out. you’re unsure whether you’ve been crying from the start but you are now: the tears rapidly fall down your cheeks, burning in excruciating pain. you don't care about the mud that gets on your clothes, all you can focus on is that emptiness and pain you feel, the wide hole that sinks into your chest.

a warm hand touches your shoulder, gentle as if to not break you further. arms circle around you, carefully bringing your head into a familiar crook. zayne exhales softly, a hand running up and down the length of your back. the umbrella he held up now lays forgotten on the ground.

“it hurts,” you croak, grabbing a fist full of his coat. “it hurts so much, zayne… make it stop.”

he continues to hold you. “it will hurt for a long time,” he says. “because healing takes a long time. you’ll learn to live with this one day… maybe not now, but one day.”

you can only gasp in response, clinging onto zayne as your sobs begin to take over, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “he’s dead,” you shut your eyes and press yourself closer to zayne, “he’s gone.”

you feel him shake his head. “he isn’t. he lives right,” zayne leans back, the hand that once held your head now pointing at your heart, “in here. he’s always going to be there with you.”

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and the faces you see everyday you can never put a name to. you talk to your mom every day, and you delude yourself into thinking that clipped responses are better than none at all.

it’s the most you can do, after all.

you talk to zayne less despite having lived in the same city for four years now. you pull away from him slowly, taking small steps away until the gap between you has grown into what it is now: a canyon. the distance was already there when he left, so it shouldn't matter if it's grown more now that you’ve done the same.

and the small girl you left behind? the one who made the sun rise? you haven’t spoken to her once since your dad’s funeral in bloomshore. you didn't even tell her of his passing—you just stopped talking all together, and in between your fresh sorrow and her constant messages, she stopped trying to get a hold of you, as if coming to the slow realization that you're… done.

honestly, you don't blame her for stopping. you were a bitch, the remnants of a heartache mixed with your grief drove you to give her the cold shoulder.

you’ve pushed them all away and locked yourself in the prison that is your fear: the fear of getting too close and experiencing that pain once again.

because you don't think you can allow yourself to mourn for the dead ever again.

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and somehow you’re a week away from graduating. you’re surprised the academy even let you get this far—after all, your score on that exam was just fine.

the heat of summer is unforgiving: it beats down on your back as you climb down the jet, the sweltering heat making you take quick strides across the practice field, unfastening your helmet with a flicker of your hand. you’re practically booking it towards the locker room.

“how are you feeling, miss valedictorian?” a classmate runs up to your side, matching your quick pace. “you got your speech ready?”

you don’t spare a glance and continue walking. “i have everything ready.”

they whistle. “wow,” they awe, “that’s our legendary miss valedictorian for you.”

the title makes you roll your eyes. “i thought i told all of you to quit it with that.”

they shrug, still following you as you enter the locker room. “everyone knows it’s true. even the academy praises you.”

the prodigy of the aerospace academy, y/n l/n.

just like your dad.

you tune out the voice of your classmate, getting rid of your flight suit and equipment, and storing it neatly inside of your locker. you adjust your clothes just as fast before you're out the door, already heading towards the gates. there’s a man that stands not too far from you, his back towards you. there’s also a girl talking to one of the guards nearest to you, though you can't see her as the guard covers her from your line of sight.

you aren't even a step outside when a hand latches around your wrist, and you freeze because you know who it is.

how could you not? his warmth is so familiar to you, even after all this time.

what surprises you the most is the fact that he's here. why is he here? he lives so far away from the academy. how is he here?

he says your name quietly. “we… should talk.”

your heart lurches, but still you don’t pull away. “i thought you were busy with med school...”

you can practically hear the way zayne raises a brow at your words.

“how would you know?” he asks, his tone void of any real malice—just pure curiosity. “we haven't talked since august.”

“i… go through your moments… sometimes…” you mumble in embarrassment, “you were studying not too long ago, right?”

his hold on your wrist loosens and tightens at the same time, his touch hesitant. he wants to hold on tighter, but is unable to. zayne holds your wrist gently, thinking as if you are to crumble if he were to hold on any tighter. he breathes slowly, “can we talk?” he quickly adds on, “privately?”

you nod and grab his hand, leading him to your apartment.

and as you walk away, you don't hear the call of a familiar name.

“pips!”

you awkwardly sit next to zayne in your living room, knees touching. your leg bounces, and you refuse to look at the older male.

zayne wordlessly places a hand down on your knee, stopping it from moving. “…there’s no need to be nervous.”

“there kind of is,” you grumble. “i didn’t think you’d ever visit me over…”

the distance, you want to say, but the words lodge themselves in your throat. you tap your finger against your leg now.

he hums. “well, i wouldn’t be here in the first place had you not started to pull away.” zayne breathes in slowly, carefully grabbing your hand in his. “i don’t blame you for anything. i just… want you to know that i’m always here. it doesn’t matter if you start pulling away because i’ll just follow you. i just want you to know that.”

you grip his hand at his words. “i’m a terrible friend,” you mumble. “how can you not blame me for this? how can you even say that?”

“because you’re still mourning,” he replies. “i know you—that means i also know how much your dad means to you.”

means—present.

not meant—past tense.

because you still miss your dad. you miss the summer days in verona where he’d carry you on his shoulders. you miss when he would talk to you about the new jets on his fleet. you mourn not only him, but the future you never got to live with him. he was supposed to watch you graduate, watch you work your way up in the ranks of the fleet—his fleet, he was supposed to be there when you ask him for love advice, he was supposed to help you move into your apartment after freshman year at the dorms and haul everything inside because he would never let his little star move a muscle.

“but i should be over his…” death. you still hate saying that stupid word. “but instead, i’ve let it consume me. you don’t blame me for that? for letting my fears influence me?”

you know that zayne knows: you pulled away because you’re afraid of losing him like you did with your dad. you’ve thought about it, about a world without him, when your mind can’t rest during the late hours of the night. each time you would end up silently weeping. there are no words to describe a world without him in it.

“of course not.” he knows. “i understand.” he always does. “i can’t make promises that i don't know if i’ll be able to keep because the future is unpredictable, but i can promise to take care of myself for you to ease your worries.”

and just like that, the knots in your chest untangle themselves. your shoulders no longer feel heavy, and you can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“you…” you tilt your head to look him. “you’re too good to me, zayne li.”

“i’m supposed to be good to you,” he lets out an amused chuckle. you take in how he looks now, how he looks older and more mature, how his hazel eyes have more brown in them than green hues right now, how his lips are curved upwards just the slightest bit. “i’m your best friend, you know?”

the book you had been reading for the month lays discarded on your chest, your back on your bed as you cover your mouth, shoulders shaking. zayne stares at you with a deadpan on his features. “you still haven’t made any friends?”

he gives you a pointed look from his sitting position against the bedframe. “have you made any friends?”

you stick your tongue out at him. “touché.”

zayne blinks once before leaning forwards to pinch your cheek, stretching the skin out. you furrow your brows and flick his wrist. “what are you doing?”

the corner of his lip lifts. “pinching your cheek.”

“no shit,” you scoff, huffing through your nose in amusement when his hazel eyes widen at your words. “what? don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming?”

he clears his throat and lets go of your cheek. “i certainly didn’t expect such a colorful word to be a part of your… everyday vocabulary.”

you shrug and roll off the bed. “the officers have a nasty influence on first years,” you scrunch your nose, “even worse when flight training starts. they just bitch about everything.” you sigh, “obviously, i don’t speak like this to the officers… or anyone.”

“then why say it around me?”

“because i don’t have anything to hide from you,” you reply, “i tell you everything. i’m always going to be the most relaxed around you—that won’t ever change.”

zayne smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “you don’t tell me everything.”

you purse your lips. “yes, i do. i—”

“you never told me you liked caleb,” the smile still doesn’t leave his lips, and you tense at the statement. “but i knew that you did.”

you blink a couple of times.

the stupid kiss.

you never told him about what caleb did on the night of his fourteenth birthday. you didn’t tell him of the pain.

and you won’t tell anyone; no living soul will ever know.

looking away from him, your gaze falls on the snow globe on your nightstand. “and you never told me you liked her, but i knew you did.”

“i don't.”

your eyes go back to him, watching as he takes his glasses off. “i don’t like her… maybe i never did.” the last bit was quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear. before you can question him, he looks up and eyes your neck. a finger comes up to point at his own. “you don’t wear it anymore.” you know what he’s referring to.

you think to the box that sits underneath your bed in your mom’s house: the box that holds everything related to him—the pictures, the necklace, the notes and the doodles and the paper airplanes… everything. “i threw it away as soon as i left for skyhaven.”

the male hums. “is that so?”

you nod. “yeah,” you breathe out.

there was no point in bringing a piece of caleb with you when all you wanted was to forget him.

“it’s getting late,” zayne mumbles. “you have a spare room, right?”

“about that…”

zayne stares at the empty room you show him down the hallway from your room. he turns his head towards you. “why… is it empty?”

“i’m the one doing the visiting,” you say, “not the other way around. i found no need to set up the spare room…”

“i see…”

you smile at him, “we can sleep in the same bed.”

he furrows his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. “what?”

“c’mon!” you nudge his shoulder. “it’ll be like old times!”

zayne sighs and pinches his nose. “you are a woman, and i am a man.”

“…and?” you raise an eyebrow at him. “are you saying you’re going to eat me up or something? should i be worried?”

“of course not,” he says quickly. there’s a slight frown on him that confuses you. “but… am i not a man to you?”

“of course you are,” you answer, leaning forwards. you reach out and grab onto his cheek, pinching it. “but i trust you enough to not do anything.”

“…i see.”

there were no classes for the rest of the week for the graduating class, meaning you no longer had to wake up in the crack ass of dawn to get ready. unfortunately, habits are hard to die, so despite having turned off your alarm, your mind wakes you up when the sky is a faded, dark blue. immediately, your mood sours as you stare up at the ceiling.

you lay in your bed for a fee seconds longer when you’re suddenly aware that your right side is empty and cold. with a yawn, your cold feet hit the ground as you stand up and quietly search for your missing friend.

zayne lifts his brows when you walk into the living room, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “did i wake you?”

you shake your head, padding over to where he sits on the couch. the cushion sinks when you sit down, your head immediately falling on his shoulder. “i’m used to waking up at this hour…” you squint at his hands. “are you studying?”

he nods, ready to say something but the word die at the tip of his tongue. zayne watches curiously at your outstretched hand that open and close repeatedly.

“give me your notebook.”

he does so without any complaint. you scan the contents quickly, gaze flitting up to him afterwards. “i’ll help you study.”

zayne chuckles softly, and shakes his head. “i appreciate that, but you should sleep some more.”

“i’m already up,” you say through squinted eyes. “besides, it’ll be like old times.”

“ah yes,” he hums, nodding once, “back when you were in middle school and i helped you study.”

except you never actually studied. zayne would read the questions out loud once, you would answer perfectly, and then you would decide enough was enough before spending the rest of your time reading with him.

friday morning comes in the form of a quiet and empty room.

when you wake up, your left side is empty once again. in the span of the week, you’ve come to learn that zayne has the habit of waking up earlier than you do. sometimes he’s up an hour before you, other times it’s half an hour.

you breathe in and exhale slowly, blink once at the roof and then stand up. the drowsiness leaves your body as you begin to get ready: you brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face before wiping it away, you put your uniform on, you comb through the knots in your hair, and you place your cap on your head. your eyes move towards your desk, eyeing the black cap that sits on it.

you’ll be able to wear it soon.

you slip your socks on, and move into the living room. zayne sits at the table, his laptop open in front of him as he highlights something on his notebook. he looks up, his hazel gaze locking with yours. he gestures at the steaming cup of coffee in front of the chair next to him, and you head towards it.

“i thought your graduation was at nine,” he says, eyes going back to his laptop. “why are you already ready?”

“force of habit,” you shrug, grabbing the cub. the warmth seeps into your fingertips, and you raise it to your lips, pausing, “and my class has to practice once before the ceremony. we’re supposed to be there an hour from now... head for breakfast afterwards,” you snort and shake your head, eyes narrowing in mirth, “someone called it brunch in the group chat. another person called them a dumbass.”

zayne’s lips quirk upwards as you finally take a sip from your cup. he watches you with a quiet intensity, one that somehow warms up the tips of your ears, yet you tell yourself to not dwell on it because he’s just zayne, the boy you grew up with.

“you sound happy.”

you bring the cup down to rest on the table. “i am,” you breathe out.

the rest of your time before heading to the academy is spent by quizzing zayne. he answers everything perfectly, and you promptly congratulate him every time, to which he huffs a laugh through his nose. when it’s time for you to leave, he offers to give you a ride and you accept.

his car is, as always, clean. it looks like it just had the day he bought—you were with him as he walked around the dealership, scrutinizing every car and analyzing every thing he learned about them until he found one he liked. it took almost two hours, and you were tired as hell, but it was worth it. he drove you to a small cafe afterwards, his treat. and though you were still mourning for your dad, despite it having been a year later, that day you felt the first semblance of normality.

the car comes to a stop, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“i’ll see you later,” says zayne.

you give him a smile. “yeah, see you later.” when you open the door, he grabs onto your wrist. you look back.

“you’ll be free afterwards, right?”

“well, i know that there’ll be a party to celebrate… but that’s in the evening, like at nine.”

he nods. “good.”

zayne doesn't say anything afterwards and only bids you goodbye, promising to see you in a few hours. with a small wave, you watch as he drives off, leaving you alone at the gates. you breathe in slowly and exhale.

you take a step back, twist around and begin to walk to the gates when you suddenly stumble forwards, your cap falling off your head and landing on the ground with a thud.

“shoot! i’m so sorry about that!” a voice rings out from behind you.

with a sigh, you lean down to pick up your cap, dusting it off. you glance behind you: there's two, tall guys. one has short hair, and he has his friend in a headlock. the one in a headlock has brown hair, bangs covering his face from your judging eyes. you turn to face them.

“my friend here sure is clumsy,” the guy laughs, tightening his hold on the hunched over friend. the friend grunts in response, trying to pry off the arm around his shoulder. “oh shit,” the guy gasps, seemingly having realized something. “you’re a graduating senior?”

“that’s right,” you say.

the guy beams, his free arm stretching out towards you. “congrats, senior!”

his enthusiasm brings a small smile to your lips, and you give him a firm handshake. “thank you.”

“caleb,” the boy snaps his head towards his friend in the chokehold. “i can’t believe your clumsy ass bumped into our senior!”

the name makes your smile curl downwards.

“ah, senior! don’t tell me we upset you!” the other boy panics.

you shake your head, eyes closed. “no,” you grimace, “but i do have to get going.” you put the cap back on your head, and with a small wave, you walk away.

“caleb, why the hell are you staring? show some respect!”

caleb.

what a way to sour your mood.

the practice was chaotic, to say the least. after you dropped a bomb on them with the salutatorian, everyone began to shout questions directed at the two of you. you got so fed up you yelled at them to shut up or else you wouldn’t go to breakfast with them afterwards.

which leads you to now.

you sit at a table with your classmates, all of them staring at you.

“…so, i didn’t want to give the speech,” you shrug and poke at the food in your plate. “big deal.”

“but why?” someone asks, followed by a quick no offense to the salutatorian.

“they have more memories with the whole class,” you answer. “it didn’t feel right for me to be up on stage and give a big speech on memories and stuff. made more sense for someone who actually spent time with the class to do it.”

when you look up from your plate, you see that everyone’s mouth are wide open.

“…what?” you grimace. “did i say something wrong?”

“you’re surprisingly cool.” someone says.

their comment makes you snort. “very cool of me to do that, huh.”

someone ends up pointing at you. “you just laughed.”

chaos erupts once again.

“holy shit, she just laughed for once!”

“knock it off before i regret being here,” you give everyone a pointed look.

they all still, mumbling apologies. in the next second, everyone starts talking and taking turns to ask you questions.

surprisingly, you don’t mind the attention. you don't mind talking to your classmates like this; in fact, now there’s a tinge of sadness that settles into your chest.

you should have talked to them more.

you swear you see the person siting next to you start crying during the salutatorian's speech.

as you stand at your assigned spot, hands holding your diploma behind your back, you see the same person start to cry harder once they’re tapped out by their family, their rigid posture crumbling.

your eyes rake over what you can see: there’s people waiting to be tapped out, some are crying, some are laughing and happy. and then you see him.

zayne naturally stands out: tall and lean, a head above the shorter crowd. the sight is comical, making you puff out your cheeks in an attempt to not laugh. he stops a few steps away, takes his phone and snaps a picture of you, all the while having an arm behind his back.

“you blinked,” he hums once he stands in front of you.

you narrow your eyes slightly at him.

with a chuckle, zayne taps your shoulder, his touch warm despite the layers of your uniform that separates your skin from his. your posture relaxes, the rigidness melting away as your lips curl upwards. he brings a small bouquet of flowers, not flashy like the ones some of your classmates are receiving. a few hyacinths and irises, their blues like the color of the sky you love, held together by a white bow tied around the stems.

“congratulations, y/n.”

you take the bouquet from him, and look at him, the small smile you had now a grin. zayne’s eyes look like a light green underneath the harsh glow of the sun, much like the green hues of the gemstone aventurine, with small specks of amber in them.

he takes a step forwards, arms slowly wrapping themselves around your form. your cap almost falls off as your throw your arm around his shoulder, the bouquet clutched tightly as your free hand flies to keep your cap against your head. laughter bubbles from your chest and falls from your lips, loud and cheerful for the first time in a while.

“thank you.”

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[cinnamongrl2006]

Ok since we have college! Jason, mayhaps a professor Bruce? Who sees you walking home in the rain and gives you a ride back to your dorm but he takes the ✨scenic✨ route if you know what I mean lmao

౨ৎ Professor!Bruce Wayne x female student!reader ౨ৎ mdni (18+)

౨ৎ Warnings: Legal age gap, power imbalance, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

౨ৎ a/n: I will never stop writing for Bale Bruce Wayne, he's the love of my life, man of my dreams, I'm insane for him. I obviously don't condone this kind of relationship, but all I write is fiction and I find it reallyyy attractive in fiction, SUE ME!! also, creds to my divas @ditzydoe444 and @ellesthots because their professor!Bruce fics are TO DIE FOR!!

You hadn't expected it to rain so much that afternoon; that's why you had forgone the idea of bringing an umbrella in your bag, it would only add weight to your already heavy backpack, and you'd spend most of your time in the library anyways.

You began to regret your decision when you exited the library and the cold water began to patter against your head and shoulders, soaking through your clothes. Your damp shirt was stuck to your chest uncomfortably, your shoulders shook with shivers. You really should have brought an umbrella, or at least a jacket.

You were cursing yourself on your walk back to the dorms when he saw you. Bruce was in his car, another late night after a long meeting with the dean. He registered your presence quickly, it was raining heavily and there wasn’t a soul in the street—there shouldn’t have been, much less a young woman like you, so cluelessly strolling alone at night, so he did what he thought necessary, he rolled down the window and called out your name.

“Mr. Wayne?” You looked at him with wide eyes, the surprise and embarrassment were evident in your soft features. God you were so unlucky, the day you go out thinking that nobody will see you you cross paths with the hottest professor in the entire college—just your luck.

“You look like you need a lift,” He smirked, poking his head out the window, and slowed the car down to a stop.

────୨ৎ────

The car ride was quiet at first, only the low hum and static of the radio on a rainy night broke through the silence. You had your bag in your lap, clutching it close to you for dear life.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to chuck the bag into the backseat and get his way with you, he felt like an asshole but the way your top was clinging to your chest was making his brain go haywire and his cock fatten up in his slacks.

“You can leave the bag in the backseat, more comfortable that way,” He spoke as if he knew better, as if that was the right thing to do; patronizing and authoritative.

You did as he said and threw the bag into the backseat, folding your hands in your now empty lap, awkwardly. The tension between you two could have been cut with a knife, the silence heavy and loud.

Bruce stretched out a hand to move something on the center console and instead of moving it back to the wheel, he placed it on your thigh, squeezing it softly. It was a declaration of intentions, he was giving you a way out.

"You shouldn't be walking alone so late, more so when it's raining." He sounded truly worried as he caressed the soft, damp, skin of your thigh.

"Lucky you were here, then." You spread your legs further, urging him to go higher, and he followed suit. His fingers danced along the seams of your panties, not quite hovering, not quite touching.

The bumps on the road were the only thing forcing contact between him and you, and they were few and far between. You were beginning to get desperate, your breaths were coming out whiny and shaky, your hips stuttered against his thick fingers.

And Bruce was just a man, his self control had been thrown out the window the moment he’d seen you walking back to your dorm drenched and shivering all alone. You were so helpless, huffing and puffing, feet dragging across the pavement, shirt drenched in water and sticking to your chest so deliciously; he had to help you, poor little girl, who didn’t even think to bring an umbrella.

The louder your whines got, the faster he drove; he moved through the back roads with expertise, not even wavering with the rain, his hands steady.

────୨ৎ────

You were sprawled across the backseat, your bag on the floor of the car, as Bruce pounded you mercilessly. He held your thighs apart as he thrusted in. A creamy white ring sat at the base of his cock from your previous orgasm

He didn't know what had gotten into him; he was usually so professional, never would have even glanced at a student before he met you. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, your gaze intense and unwavering, never missing one of his classes. Maybe it was because of the way you spoke to him during tutoring hours, your voice soft yet confident, drawing him in. Or perhaps it was the subtle way you brushed your leg against his when you sat side by side.

He was grown, after all; he was not stupid. He noticed how your eyes drifted down to his chest when he rolled his shoulders, or how they lingered on his arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the toned muscles underneath. It made his heart race.

"That feel good, sweetheart?" He breathed out.

You knew if you tried to speak the words would not come out so, with your hands pawing and tugging at his shirt— all wrinkled and rumpled now, thanks to your relentless movements— you just nodded your head, staring at him with wide, glassy, eyes and an open mouth, letting out little whines and moans at the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Come on, you're a smart girl, my top student; you can use your words, can't you?" There it was again, the sweet voice, the patronizing tone.

"Yes. Feels good, sir." You managed to breathe out.

"Call me Bruce, let's leave the titles for the classroom, huh?"

You nodded, eyes meeting his hungry gaze. Bruce's cock twitched at the sight of your dazed smile, half lidded eyes, pupils blown wide and your cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink you got when you made eye contact in class.

"mhm, Bruce," You whined, your hips stuttered up, back arching when he angled your hips to get slightly deeper. You could feel the slight burn from the way he was stretching you out, the spur of pain when the tip of his cock hit your cervix repeatedly, but all of that was kept in the back of your mind, as he kissed your lips and cooed at you.

"So pretty...you're a beautiful girl, you know that? Smart too," He spoke between kisses, his voice was hoarse, breathy.

Bruce didn't moan, but he grunted a lot, to punctuate his words when he spoke, or after a particularly deep thrust.

"So tight, baby. Just relax, I've got you." He spoke into your neck as his thrusts got messier, harder. The squelching and clapping of your thighs against his got louder, and so did your moans. You came almost instantly, leaning your head back against the car window, his hands held your waist, keeping you in place as he fucked his thick cock into you. He came shortly after you, with a hard thrust and a grunt.

After a moment of shared silence, the sound of the rain drumming against the car filled the space between you. You both caught your breath, the lingering warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. Bruce rested his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight.

"We should talk about this before Monday," He spoke as he caught his breath.

“Yeah, or it’ll be super awkward in class,” you replied, a light laugh escaping you. Bruce chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he tried to regain his composure.

“Well, we can just keep it professional, right?” he suggested, looking at you with a hint of amusement. 

────୨ৎ────

@lalitalux

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

��You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

[omniscient3teabag]

life-blogger/streamer captain marvel that does frequent livestreams for fun after the time bubble popped and has like, a gopro attached onto his head every time he goes out to fly so his viewers(most of fawcetts residents.cough cough) can kinda experience on what happens when he flies (he flies slower when he does this, so they can truly enjoy the view)

sometimes, there'll be a surprise villain that'd pop out of nowhere and they'd start brawling WHILE cap was in the middle of live-streaming but like. his viewers don't mind, it was really fun entertainment after all,, and since this was technically his own work, this acts as a source of income for him!! money! huzzah! though he secretly gets really guilty everytime he gets a big donation from one of his viewers,,

BUT THATS NOT ALL gachatuber billy batson. he still works as a whiz kid reporter, but just has a VERRY small gacha channel that he posts in his free time,, freddy and mary helps him design characters and storylines too!!! not monetized because he doesn't have enough subscribers for that LOL

but it's a really comfy channel that'd probably be based around gacha life mini movies like the hated child became the hybrid princess and etc etc and would make gacha life music videos because I do NOT believe that this kid would NOT make cringy ass videos of the I'm blue song, legends never die and like memes of that one I'm a banana! audio. HE'D PROBABLY EVEN HAVE LORE ON CHARACTERS AS WELL THAT'D HE WOULD PERIODICALLY UPDATE WHEN HE HAD THE TIME

also he'd only either use gacha studio or gacha life. I dknt think his phone would be able to handle gl2 or gacha club (or maybe he just likes the simpler style of gacha life mayhaps)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! :) mayhaps can i request your HC's for viktor x an artist reader. 👉👈 ur angst drabbles have been sustaining my life since season 2

There’s a saying that if an artist loves you or falls in love with you, you can never die.

A saying that Viktor didn’t give much thought until it was very clear that he was your forever muse, your reason to keeping your passion alive through experimenting art styles to maximise the effect you wanted your art to have; almost in the exact same way a scientist would conduct experiments in order to understand how something works and how to properly utilise it.

However each and every one of your art works came out looking like masterpieces that should and probably would be studied by future artists themselves one day, given how beautiful they were.

But also because they all included a man with amber eyes and soft chocolate hair hard at work with his own projects as blue sparks are captured liked shooting stars flying past his beautiful face. He truly was a once in a lifetime experience that you wanted to eternally capture within the pages of your sketchbook.

It literally didn’t matter what he did, whether it was tinkering, experimenting with the hexcore or just simply existing, you wanted to capture as much of Viktor as you possibly can whenever you can.

Viktor, in your eyes, was the kind of man people would kill to create sculptures of and artworks that would be seen in grand museums, within a beautifully intricate frame that only added emphasise to his importance to the artist in question. The artist being you of course.

So needless to say whenever you were with Viktor you made sure to have your sketchbook and pencils in hand as you knew that you’d end up wanting to sketch him for the millionth time that day.

However your favourite sketch of him came when you made him smile, genuinely smile.

The image of his bright and handsome smile was all you could see for hours on end as you found yourself absentmindedly sketching his face, his smile, the wrinkles near his eyes and his wind ruffled hair to perfection.

You then found yourself staring at it as though reliving the moment where you heard his laugh reach your ears like a harmonious melody, swept upon the wind that ruffled his hair and into your ears and your ears only.

To be loved by an artist was to be seen and you saw Viktor in a way that nobody else could, not even himself, and it showed in your work as you made him look like an angel disguised as a human given how frequently you used the colour gold whenever you drew him. From his eyes, to his clothes, everything with Viktor had hints of gold to it.

So much so that you had to get more colouring pencils of the exact same shade of gold so frequently that the manger of the art shop knew your name and the muse of your latest works at this point.

‘Drawing Viktor again I see?’ They’d teasingly ask as you’d shrug your shoulders.

‘Guilty as charged.’ You would reply before taking your things and leaving.

Viktor didn’t pry into your sketchbook, it was your belonging and he didn’t feel it was necessary for him to pry into it, but his curiosity didn’t help him one day as he found himself drawn to the sketchbook that you seemed to had left in his lab.

The first few pages were merely parts of the academy that you frequently visited, from the gardens, to the library, to even the lab he was stood in. Each one was increasingly more impressive than the last with how lifelike you made each one as though he could fall into the scene you had created; a true testament to your talent, creativity and insane attention to detail.

However the further the sketchbook went, he could easily see a decline in inspiration in your art. only for it to pick back up again when you had started drawing him doing the most mundane of things -at least in his mind he thought so- as simple sketches to portraits solely done by oil pastels or only colouring pencils. All just to emphasise his features and the concentrated furrows of his brows, a large variation of colours you’ve used so effortlessly to make up his face in a way that he could never imagine.

And yet Viktor found that there was more artworks of yours regarding him, artworks that seemingly continued endlessly and were just as hyper detailed and colourful as the more of himself that he saw, each one touching his heart in a way that made him realise that this was how you genuinely saw him; an angel in human skin as the way you depicted him was either simply human or an ethereal being coated in various shades of gold.

Through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of you, Viktor knew that you only conveyed what you believed to be true and the fact that you saw him in such a way was enough to have him struggling to breath, but in the best way possible.

You way you saw him transcended beyond the person he saw each and every day in the mirror. You saw him as a man of infinite beauty, wisdom and strength in a multitude of ways while never shying away when it came to his leg nor disease.

If anything you made those parts of him stand out the most in a way that told him that you found these parts of him a strength and perfection in your eyes. Telling him that you didn’t wish him to be anything other then himself, for he was perfect and so much much that only your art could help describe.

Viktor; a man on borrowed time became a man immortalised within the pages of his artist lover.

He even seen the sketches of him fast asleep against his workbench you’ve done and even then you took your time making it look like he was staring into a mirror of himself.

You’d catch him flicking through your sketchbook but you couldn’t say anything against it as the way his eyes light up and soft smiles upon looking at your latest works, looks that only made you want to draw Viktor even more if it meant this sight becoming more common with the passage of time.

‘You like them?’ You’d ask from the doorway.

‘I love them my dear.’ He replies softly as he presses his forehead against your own, making you smile fondly. ‘But was the drawing of me sleeping necessary?’ He adds playfully as you chuckled.

‘Oh it was very necessary my muse.’ You replied with equal playfulness as you kissed his nose. ‘I saw an opportunity and couldn’t let it pass me by without at least drawing it first,’ Viktor scoffs but the smile upon his lips remained, ‘and besides you looked really peaceful and relaxed that I wanted it to be something I remember. Hoping I get to experience more moments like that to be my muse for my future drawings.’ You finished.

‘I’m glad the to could do that for you my dear.’ Viktor closed his eyes and rested his head further against yours, wanting nothing then to capture this moment within his mind forever, secretly hoping to continue to be the muse of your art projects as your artistic range grew.

‘You’ve always been my muse,’ you said, closing your eyes, ‘you will always will be my muse.’

[lavenderhateswritting]

Heyyyyy so I lap up angst like a starving raccoon so could we mayhaps get the batkid’s reactions to your divorcee reader and Bruce’s separation? Ik in the original hc post you did you said that people had been asking/wondering why reader hadn’t left yet, so maybe seeing which Batfam members were on team divorce and which (if any) were on team parent-trap. If you we’re already planning on doing that, I was also wondering how Reader reacted to Jayson’s death and subsequent revival and how he handled Red Hood and the dynamics between his son and (then) hubby.

No pressure on this, I just love this idea and pretty don’t see people tackling Bruce’s serial rouge-kissing habits in the batmom/dad fics. I rlly love your take on it!!

I will totally be writting the fanfic about BatDad, Bruce and Jason's dynamic later because I would love to think about what that absolute mess will look like

Dick

Dick in my opinion was the person who was the most conflicted when it came to the divorce.

On one hand he had known you for as long as he had known Bruce and in his head you and Bruce were one connected entity. You worked off eachother well and supported each other. You stopped Bruce from going to far over the edge, constantly pulling him, away from the brink of obsession. He remembered watching you take care of Bruce on his worst nights and stich up both of them when they came home from rough missions. You guys worked well together and loved each other or at least he thought you did when he was younger.

Because on the other hand as he got older he started to realize that maybe it wasn't you both supporting each other, maybe it was just you supportng Bruce. You making sure Bruce didn't die. You making sure Bruce kept up with his civilian life. You forgiving Bruce after he found another way to let you down.

When he and Bruce were at their worst so angry that they couldn't even be in the same room together you still found a away to keep in touch. Half the time he was running around with the Titans blowing up at people over the smallest things and you still tried to invite him over for dinner. God. He just assumed you'd always be there even when he blew up at you or ignored your calls for weeks on end.

A world without you and Bruce together seemed impossible to imagine in a way, even after he realized it would probably be better for you if you and Bruce did divorce.

Jason

Jason was against you two getting a divorce probably the most out of anyone else.

He had seen you and Bruce at your best. His days in the manor were filled with you two takig him to school and museums. He remembered walking into the kitchen for breakfast and seeing Bruce fumble through trying to help you while you laughed at him. In his head you guys were perfect especially when compared to the relationship he saw between Catherine and Willis. You and Bruce loved eachother and often didn't even argue in front of him.

He also idealizes you and Bruce's relationship in the same way he idealizes everything before his death. The negative moments have been smoothed over with time and he rarely sees you two together anymore so there's nothing to prove him wrong in his idea.

For his enitre life even after his death you and Bruce were his example of what love was. He watched you two together and he truly believed that maybe someday he could love someone the way you two loved. Hearing about the divorce is kinda like realizing that maybe even the moments of his life he truly thought were good weren't.

How many times were you and Bruce angry at eachother, but didn't want to argue in front of him? How many nights did he walk into Bruce sleeping at his desk because he wasn't allowed back into the bedroom? How much of Batman's private talks with Catwoman were betrayals of your trust?

It makes him have to come to terms with the real sadness you were experiencing with a child and how even the best parts of his childhood weren't nearly as good as he thought.

Tim

Tim was anti divorce because he really didn't want to think about how Bruce would fall a part without you.

He saw Bruce after Jason died and you had nearly completly withdrawn from the relationship. He had to make sure that Bruce was okay and Bruce was pulling his punches because Bruce had lost his son and had basically lost his husband. He knows what Bruce does when you aren't their for him he spent his time making sure that Bruce without you didn't die.

So he doesn't want you two to get divorce and he even found out where you were staying to try and convince you to take Bruce back. Which did not work and just left you both in a screaming match.

You and Tim are both in seprate parts of your journey to realizing that it isn't your job to make sure Bruce is okay. In a way it frustrates him because he thought he understood you the most out of anyone. Others were wondering when you two would finally break it off and why you commited your life to Bruce, but he understood the fight to keep Batman alive even if it cut into your own life.

He gets even more upset with you as Bruce begins to fall a part in your absence. In his head you two were on a mission together and you just left. Tim likely doesn't get in contact with you for a long time after the divorce and if you guys do talk he's very short and to the point. I don't think the relationship gets better until he's later into his adult life and finally realizing he can't spend his life looking out for Bruce.

"Do you think he can ever get better." He asks you after crawling onto your balcony one night.

"I don't know, maybe, if he really wanted to, but you know its not your job to get him to that point its his." You guys sit there for a while and then he leaves and starts getting in contact more often.

Damian

Damian was pro divorce.

He had no about you as a person outside of the road bloack you had acted as towards his mother and father's relationship. He acts older than he is, but he is still a child and in a way wanted his parents to be together at the end of the day.

Whe he meets you he's even more pro the divorce. In his eyes you're weak and you make his father weak. You aren't a capable fighter or hyper inteligent like the rest of the family you're just a normal person and to him that makes you largely useless.

I think there are times when he is a little jealous about the way his other siblings describe the family and manor before the divorce. Outside of Tim and Jason most people could see the writing on the wall, but they still missed you. Dick was constantly talking about the way you would give him pep talks after bad nights out or fights with Bruce. Tim rarely talked about you, but when he did it was obvious that he found a kenship with you that ran deep even if he denied it. Jason acted like you were a saint who had never done anything wrong in your life which Damian doubted. Barbra talked about the nights you spent together cordinating the ever growing opperation across the city. Stephanie remembered how when she was just starting you truly did try your best to get Bruce to give her a chance and help her. Cassandra described you as kind and troubled even on your best days and Duke seemed to like you more than he liked Bruce most days.

There was a connection they all had to you that led to family dinners at your new home and late night meetups to talk about fears and hopes before the city called for them again. He didn't have that at least not with you and the mansion felt like a ghost town most nights.

Barbra

Barbra was pro divorce and had been for years at the point it happened.

She was further away from the situation than Dick and the rest of the boys and that's likely what made it obvious to her that you and Bruce simply didn't work. She watched as you forgave him constantly without ever being sure that he wouldn't hurt you again. Bruce was terrible for you and she was not going to let you pretend otherwise.

Barbra was around as long as Dick, but she wasn't burdened with nostalgia about the relationship. She watched as Bruce's lifestlye made it nearly impossible for you to have friends who cared about you and not just friends who were friends of Bruce. She watched while you were cheated on multiple times. She watched you have breakdowns next to Bruce's unconcious battered body wondering if he would ever wake up again.

She was very open about the dislike she had towards you two together she wasn't subtle either. She would send you links to divorce lawyers, couples therapy, or anonymous groups for failing marriages. She liked you and for a long time you and her were the ones who worked closest together. She didn't like watching Bruce breakdown what little of you there was left.

Sometimes she would watch you and Bruce together and think maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was love their that was great enough to come back from past failures. But the Bruce would break your heart again and she would be reminded of why you needed to leave.

Stephanie

Stephanie was pro divorce and she has said that to Bruce's face.

Stephanie didn't have the blinders on about Bruce being an amazing father or mentor because of the way he treated her when she first began to fight crime. During her short time as Robin she watched the way he treated you and it was just another check in the reasons why Batman is an ass list. Because for all the kindness and understanding that you showed Bruce he had a habit of acting like you being their was expected like it was your job to take care of him.

Stephanie and Bruce argued often and she has on multiple occasions called a cheater/manwhore who was going to be divorced. In her defense she definitely called it. She liked you and it frustrated her that you allowed for Bruce to just bulldoze over your life for so long.

After the divorce she definitely went to your house and said she was there to cheer you. It devolved into you both bitching about the worst moments in your relationships with Bruce and calling him an ass.

She's happy for you. Proud that you finally found a way out of it all.

Cassandra

Cassandra was pro divorce.

She had a view of Bruce that was developed through him saving her and showing her a path in life toward being a person she could be proud of. I think that Bruce's relationship with you was definitely a moment for her where she learned that Bruce was better as a symbol than a person most days.

She watched the way the days weighed on you. She could see the exhaustion in your body even when you were happy. She could also tell that you and Bruce loved eachother. You and Bruce were madly in love with eachother, but that didn't really change anything. She was pro divorce from the moment she saw you two together to be honest.

She also worried because she and Bruce were so alike. They both had a devotion to the cause that others at times found hard to understand. In a way I think she started to worry about what someone who fell in love with her would have to deal with because she didn't want to treat them like Bruce treated you.

I'd like to think she has on multiple occasions grabbed your are and told you its okay to leave. She was very happy for you when you finally did.

Holy shit this was a long one. I'm sorry for not adding Duke I just really haven't read anything with him in it and I have no clue how he acts

[yaekiss]

HELLO waves… i received ‘sharing a bed’ and. if i can. i would like to mayhaps request diluc since i <3 his repressed ass.

(i would also like to ask if i could perhaps be an emoji anon since i Have sent multiple asks before but did not. sign off. and if i could be an emoji anon…….. - 🫐)

(GUH I REALLY HOPE THIS WORKS and hasnt sent multiple times since tumblr decided to shit itself and die right as i hit send)

꩜ Room Content: GN! Reader x Subby! Diluc, established relationship, Diluc is really blushy in this one, sharing the same bed, lmk if I missed out anything! ꩜ A/N: YAY another emoji nonnie!! Welcome welcome 🫐 anon ^^ It's been a while since I wrote for Diluc and I must confess, I have quite the soft spot for a really easily flustered and blushing Diluc and. It def shows in this blurb HAHA,,, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS! ꩜ Spin this wheel and submit a prompt + character for a quick blurb!

"Master Diluc," Adeline starts up with a concerned tone as she glides over to Diluc's side whilst the two of you share a dinner together. He shoots her a quizzical glance at the uncharacteristic worry the Head Housemaid is showing before she continues.

"I'm afraid that there currently seems to be a problem with the guest rooms," she sighs, shaking her head ruefully, then turns to face you, "It would be much appreciated if you could share a room with Master Diluc tonight."

At this, your dear Diluc nearly chokes on his grape juice.

Which is precisely how the both of you have ended up in this silly sort of predicament.

You, lying in Diluc's bed, staring at his ceiling. And to your side, with a ridiculous amount of space between both your bodies, Diluc. Right now, he seems to be trying to burn a hole through a very specific wooden ceiling panel with how hard he's glaring.

You suppose it is a little awkward to be sharing a bed for the first time. Even though the two of you have started dating recently, you haven't really gotten the chance to start anything intimate with him. However, laying ramrod straight and unmoving gets tiring after a while. Deciding to flip onto your side, you suddenly lock eyes with a certain redhead who chose to steal a glance at you at the same time. Caught in the act, his eyes widen, blush immediately exploding on his cheeks, spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears. (Any more intense and he'll be matching the exact shade of his hair!)

Diluc snaps his gaze back up to the ceiling in an instant though the tension in the room is now undeniable. Could it be... maybe?

Slowly, your hand creeps closer and closer to Diluc's hand that's resting on the bed by his side. When your fingers make contact with his, he startles as if shocked. Ah, there you go, now the colour on his face truly does match the crimson of his hair!

You keep your hand there, allowing him to pull away if he wants to. And it's only after a moment, as if flustered and hesitating, that his hand gradually clasps together with yours. His other hand is held up and slightly covering the bottom half of his face. Averting his gaze, he coughs lightly, as if to signal to you to make the first move.

Diluc keeps his eyes trained on your other free hand, watching as it slyly lifts the hem of his shirt, gaining access to the skin hidden beneath the fabric. He burns as he feels you graze your fingers over his stomach and pinch lightly at his side. But nothing could prepare him for when you splayed your fingers, dragging your open palm upwards, till you were cupping one of his pecs.

"Are you alright with this?" He has never nodded as hard as this in his life.

By the next morning, Diluc finds that he is alright with a great deal of things as long as it is by your hands.

Extra nonsense :3

This was all planned by Adeline. She's vying for that number 1 wingman award and by god is she going to get it even if she has to temporarily remove all the lightbulbs in the guest rooms.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a full fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[hummingbird24220]

OKOKKOKKKK WHAT IFFFFFF reader does something REALLY cringe (like junko posing or speaking in cursive) and zoro just....throws them off of the ship BUTTT everyone forgot that reader is a devil fruit eater so they actually start drowning and no one goes to save them until it's completely silent.. No spashes or nothing. and when someone brings them back on deck (preferably sanji) reader isn't breathing and they almost die. Uhhh sanji x reader if you can (mouth to mouth mayhaps????)

I LOVE YOUR WORKS I HAVE READ THEM ALL BTW ILY AND THE WAY YOU WRITE SANJI

yessssssssss i love a good junko pose. also THANK YOU, i worry Sanji is OOC sometimes but i suppose this is just my interpretation of the sexy man.

Its not as long as i would have liked, but i think it ended in a good place <3

Hope you enjoy!

Consequence of Cringe

Sanji x Reader

The sun was blazing, the sea was calm, and the Straw Hats were just trying to enjoy a peaceful afternoon.

Which, of course, meant the perfect time for you to strike.

You stood on the edge of the Sunny’s deck, one foot perched dramatically on a barrel, your long coat (absolutely unnecessary in this heat) fluttering in the breeze you summoned yourself using a hand fan. With a mischievous smirk, you threw your arms wide and struck the most flamboyant pose imaginable—one that Junko Enoshima would envy.

"Fools! You thought you could live in peace?!” you howled, spinning with over-the-top flair. “But this world is filled with despair! Misery! And bad fashion choices! I—" you twirled, then froze in another pose with a twisted grin—"—am your reckoning. Call me the Cringe King!"

Chopper blinked. “Is this a bit?”

Brook leaned over to Franky. “Yohoho... I can’t tell if they’re joking or actually possessed.”

Usopp was already hiding behind a barrel, muttering something about cursed performance art.

And Zoro?

Zoro didn’t even blink. He just grabbed you by the back of the collar mid-monologue, walked to the edge of the ship with the same casual energy as taking out the trash, and—

“Overboard.”

You screamed all the way down.

SPLASH.

Sanji, who had just walked out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks, frowned. “Huh? What was that?”

“Y/N,” Nami deadpanned, arms crossed.

“They were doing the thing again,” Zoro added with zero remorse.

“Fair,” Luffy said, chewing meat. “It was kinda weird this time.”

"Still," Robin mused, flipping a page of her book, "Zoro, didn’t you say they were a Devil Fruit user?"

There was a long pause.

“...Oh.”

Sanji blinked, the tray clattering to the deck as his brain connected the dots. “WHAT?!”

Heads snapped toward the railing.

No more splashing.

No more shouting.

Just... quiet.

Too quiet.

Sanji didn’t wait. He dove off the edge without another word, tearing through the water like a bullet. It didn’t take him long to spot you—limp, floating just beneath the surface like a broken marionette.

His heart nearly stopped.

“Nonono—come on, mon amour, don’t you dare—”

He grabbed you, dragged you back up, and kicked into overdrive, reaching the Sunny again in record time. The others helped pull you aboard, but you weren’t coughing, weren’t moving. Your eyes were shut. Lips blue.

Sanji dropped to his knees beside you, eyes wide with panic.

“Y/N?! Wake up!” He pressed his ear to your chest.

Nothing.

He cursed under his breath, tilting your head back and pinching your nose. “Come on, come on, s’il te plaît...”

And then—

Mouth to mouth.

He sealed his lips over yours, gently but urgently. One breath. Two. He pushed on your chest with shaking hands, then tried again.

The rest of the crew stood frozen in silence.

Then—

You choked.

Water shot out of your mouth as your body convulsed. You coughed violently, rolling to your side, gasping like you’d never tasted air before.

Sanji caught you before you could fall again, pulling you into his arms. His breath was shaky, his voice even more so.

“Don’t you ever do something that stupid again,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours.

You blinked up at him, dazed, then muttered hoarsely: “Was it... at least a good monologue...?”

Zoro groaned.

Luffy laughed.

Sanji just held you tighter.

You blinked up at the sky.

It was blue.

Too blue.

Everything ached. Your lungs felt like someone scrubbed them with sandpaper, and your throat burned like you’d gargled lava. Your clothes were soaked, your limbs heavy—and your dramatic monologue had been criminally underappreciated.

You groaned, flopping your arm over your face.

“Ughhh... What happened? I was in the middle of my villain arc...”

“You drowned,” Sanji’s voice snapped, tight and low beside you.

You peeked at him through your arm.

He looked pissed. Not annoyed. Not irritated. Genuinely pissed. His hair was dripping, jaw clenched, and shirt still clinging to him from the ocean water. But even through the tension, his eyes scanned your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked.

“Oh.” You blinked, then frowned. “Wait. Did I... seriously drown? Like, no flailing, no epic comeback—just ‘blub blub, Y/N go bye-bye’?”

“That’s not funny!” he snapped.

You flinched a little, guilt replacing the remnants of your dramatic flair.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t answer. Just stood up and walked off, muttering something about getting you dry clothes.

You sat up slowly, still wheezing. The crew had mostly dispersed, probably out of secondhand embarrassment. Brook gave you a thumbs up from across the deck. Chopper was pacing, clearly still shaken. Nami offered a little “Glad you're okay” before disappearing with a sigh. Luffy waved like you hadn’t almost died.

And Zoro...

Zoro stood nearby, arms crossed, trying really hard to look like he didn’t care.

“Tch. Should’ve sunk deeper.”

You turned toward him slowly.

Your eye twitched.

“Oh. Oh, you’re still here.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “What, you gonna monologue me again?”

“No,” you rasped.

Then you pulled your fist back—

AND FALCON PUNCHED HIM ACROSS THE FACE.

“YOU THREW ME OFF THE SHIP, YOU SOGGY SWORD-SWALLOWING GREMLIN!!”

Zoro actually stumbled. He took it like a champ, but there was definitely a red mark forming on his cheek.

“Hey! You survived, didn’t you?!”

“Barely!”

“You were doing the voice again!”

“That’s called art, you uncultured shrub!”

The two of you were mid-screaming match when Sanji returned, tossing a towel at your head.

“Y/N. Dry off. You’re not even wearing shoes.”

You caught the towel with a pout. “You’re all lucky I didn’t have a tragic backstory monologue lined up, too.”

“We are lucky,” Sanji muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait, how did I even get out of the water? I can’t swim, remember?”

Everyone went awkwardly silent.

Zoro looked away.

Luffy scratched his head.

Chopper blinked. “Uhhh... you don’t remember?”

“No?”

Sanji turned around, waving a hand. “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe now.”

You stared at his back. Something in his voice was weirdly soft.

You tilted your head. “Did you save me?”

He paused.

Then he lit a cigarette.

"...Maybe."

You squinted. “You’re being weird.”

Sanji didn’t turn around. “You’re imagining things.”

Zoro rubbed his jaw, muttering, “He totally mouth-to-mouthed them.”

Your head whipped around. “Wait. WHAT?”

Sanji froze.

“Zoro,” he growled.

“What?” Zoro smirked. “Just saying. Bet your heart rate hasn’t dropped since.”

Sanji spun, ready to kick his head off, face flaming.

You?

You just turned beet red.

And then coughed violently because you forgot your lungs were still wrecked.

-

The ship had quieted down by the time you made it to the kitchen. Everyone was either napping, training, or still recovering emotionally from your full-blown theatrical disaster-slash-near-death-experience.

You were clean, in dry clothes, and still a little shaken—but mostly? Embarrassed. Painfully embarrassed.

Sanji stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, quietly chopping vegetables. He hadn’t said much since he saved you. Just made sure you were okay, made sure you didn’t die, and… avoided eye contact like he was the one who’d screamed despair-themed monologues.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping into the kitchen.

Sanji didn’t turn around. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet, chérie.”

“I’m okay. Promise.” You sat on a stool at the counter, arms resting in front of you. “And… I wanted to say thanks.”

He finally glanced over, brows raised. You met his eyes, sincere this time. No dramatics, no posturing.

“Like. Actually. Thank you,” you said. “I’m really sorry for being a dumbass.”

Sanji tilted his head. “You weren’t a dumbass.”

You blinked.

He turned back to the cutting board. “Zoro was. He’s the one who threw you off the ship.”

You smiled a little. “Okay, yeah, true. But I kinda set the stage with my ‘despair and doom’ speech.”

He cracked a smile at that, just a little one.

“I should’ve taken it more seriously,” he said. “When you didn’t come up right away, I—” His voice caught in his throat. “—I thought we were gonna lose you.”

You stood quietly, heart softening at how his hands trembled ever so slightly around the knife. You walked around the counter and leaned against it beside him.

He stiffened as you gently took the knife from his hand and set it down.

Then you stepped close and rose onto your toes, brushing your lips softly against his cheek.

It was feather-light. Barely there.

But Sanji froze like you’d kissed him with fireworks and a confession.

You smiled. “I figured I owe you a kiss that isn’t tied to the worst moment of my life.”

He blinked, slow.

“You—you don’t owe me anything,” he said, voice cracking in disbelief. “I didn’t do that expecting—"

“I know,” you interrupted, smile still soft. “That’s why it means something.”

He turned toward you then, really turned—one hand reaching out hesitantly to brush your cheek, like you might disappear if he touched too hard.

You leaned into it.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured.

“You didn’t,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”

Sanji’s thumb traced your jaw gently. “Can I—?”

You nodded.

This kiss was slower. Warmer. Still a little breathless, but not from drowning. From feeling.

When you finally pulled away, his cheeks were flushed, eyes dazed.

“Also,” you added, “you’re totally allowed to kick Zoro into the ocean next time.”

Sanji grinned, smug. “Gladly. Maybe I’ll wait until he’s mid-monologue too.”

You snorted. “He never monologues.”

“Exactly. It’ll really catch him off guard.”

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

AHHHH HIHIHI !!

just wanna start by sayinh youre like one of my fav people on this platform i live and die for every post 😭💞

And i finally caught the requests so !!

Headcanons for various jojo characters with a reader who has a healing stand mayhaps?

Feel free to put whoever else in, i dont mind, but i'd love it if you could do bruno and diego, my bbgs fr 🙏

Hihihi!! Aaaaa thank you so much I am SO honored!!!! And when u mentioned Bruno and Diego r your bbgs I had a “did I just send MYSELF a request??” Moment lolol literally I had to physically restrain myself from calling Bruno my wife when Jojo came up while I was chatting with some people irl the other day lolol-

I love him and Diego so much! And YES, I can do this! Sounds interesting~

Bruno’s takes place before Giorno joins the squad

Content: for Diavolo and Diego: possessive and controlling behaviors, light depiction of injury

Various jjba characters x reader with a healing stand:

“Doctor! Doctor!”

Characters: Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Diavolo, Diego Brando

Rohan Kishibe: You cannot BELIEVE he sometimes argues with you over healing him. Rohan has had a difficult personality for as long as you’ve known him, but really…you must insist you accompany him on his travels despite his protests. You’ve seen on more than enough occasions he’s liable to put himself in dangerous situations and get hurt. So you’re going with him.

He’ll always fight you on it, claiming it’s much easier to travel alone; but he has SOME nerve saying you in particular are difficult to travel with, because he always has some sort of grievance about almost everything when you go anywhere together.

You tell him if he didn’t put himself in harm’s way all the time you wouldn’t have to follow him around.

And even if he claims he won’t this time, you both know that’s not really a claim he can make. His inquisitive nature will Always get the best of him, so you will be there for when that curiosity inevitably gets him terribly injured in some way.

Thank goodness your man is difficult to kill…but he really needs to stop pushing his luck, it’s bad for both of you.

And despite him pretending your presence doesn’t change anything on his trips, he will try to be a little bit more careful when you’re involved. He thinks it’s because your constant worrying is irritating, but honestly he can’t bring himself to willingly lead you into something too dangerous. Most of the time.

Bruno Bucciarati: He will always consider himself responsible for the safety of his team, and the nature of your stand ability means you ease his mind when you’re near. You’ve seen his gang. They’re reckless, quick to get into fights, even with each other-there’s no need to worry about him but PLEASE do whatever you’re willing to do to make sure the others aren’t bleeding out from stab or gunshot wounds, or limping around with broken bones.

At Bruno’s request, you would always prioritize healing the injuries of the people he’s in charge of, but when the opportunity arises you will offer him some healing too.

He might not get nearly as bloodied and beaten as Mista does all the time…but you’ve noticed your dear Bucciarati seems to get chronic headaches, that especially intensify when he’s stressed about his work or managing the team. You never make a big deal out of it, don’t even mention it really, when you use your stand to ease his pain.

But he’ll always make a point to thank you. And gently remind you that he’s fine and you should focus your energy elsewhere.

You can only try to respect that for so long though. I mean, the reason your stand heals is because it’s in your nature to severely hate seeing your loved ones suffer.

And it’s not like he can be mad at you for caring about him. It’s just an unfamiliar feeling for him…he’s used to focusing all his attention on others and shouldering their burdens and taking care of them…so having you around trying to ease his pains…very unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

It will take a while, but eventually he’ll grow comfortable enough to even ask for your healing touch when his pain is a little too much to bear on his own. But more often than not you’ll have to nag him to not push himself too hard and let you help him.

Diavolo: He considers it very fortunate you stumbled into his path. You consider it very Unfortunate. The Boss of Passione is an extraordinarily demanding partner, expecting absolute obedience and loyalty from you in return for his “love” and protection.

You’re not sure when you even wanted to be in a relationship with him, but you’re in too deep now. Defying an obsessive and paranoid man like him at this point would only get you in even more trouble.

He’s smothering, constantly breathing down your neck and making sure you’re not planning anything, and when he does let you leave wherever he’s decided to hole himself up, Doppio is always accompanying you. You’re expected to heal him if anything should happen, but you know Diavolo only says that in a weak attempt to veil that Doppio is actually the one watching you.

Daring to reveal your stand in front of anyone that is not him or Doppio will get you in hot water with the entire Italian mafia.

But it’s not like Diavolo needs your healing…he’s never around anyone who can hurt him anyways! You really are some just in case tool he keeps in his pocket; so your life is incredibly boring, even if it’s safe. And moving around all the time for his anonymity’s sake is annoying and uncomfortable. What’s the point of your stand if you can’t use it to help people?! He Really hates that compassionate nature of yours. Makes sense, given how thoroughly selfish he is…The two of you do not click at all, but he doesn’t care. You don’t need to like him, but he’s not letting you leave as long as you’re an incredibly useful tool.

Diego Brando: He does so adore how useful his partner’s stand is…To cure any sort of fatigue and injury…such a boon to him! He wants you all to himself and he will NOT be sharing you. So don’t even THINK about flashing your stand to anyone other than him, he won’t forgive you if you do that! He’s definitely using you a bit to his advantage. But he takes care of you in turn, making sure you live a comfortable life and giving you whatever you ask for. All you have to do is follow his easy rule and he’ll be a sweet and doting husband for you. Simple, right?

It tugs at your conscience sometimes though. To sit quietly on the side while someone suffers, simply because your husband demanded it. But a part of you can’t bear even the thought of upsetting Diego, after he’s been so good to you…and all he asked for was one simple thing.

And he was just looking out for you by telling you to keep your gift a secret…He cupped your cheeks in his hands so gently as he reminded you how bad it would be if an evil person found out about your powers. You could be in a lot of danger, and he might not be able to save you. So please, don’t needlessly endanger yourself like that. He couldn’t bear it if anything bad happened to you.

Deep down you know he’s just saying that to keep you under his control, but you love him…and you honestly believe at least a part of him also loves you.

So you’ll bend to his will usually. But what Diego doesn’t know can’t hurt him. If you mend a broken bone or ease a sore throat on occasion he might not find out. And even if he does find out, how mad can he really get at that? (Pretty damn mad, but you have too much value in his eyes for him to deal Too harshly with you, despite what he might say in the heat of the moment).

-

Ngl I kinda blanked when coming up with additional characters, so I just went with some more faves, haha, the POWER of: “feel free to put whoever else in”!

[chamomilewrittingblock]

Solo Leveling Brainrots

Fellow Jinwoo Simps I need your thoughts and opinion!! Also MASSIVE brainrot warning!!!

QUESTION: How do you think Jinwoo would react to his partner questioning his taste in lovers? (ie. Being interested in Reader themselves)

How id imagine the confession would go: Jinwoo, pre-awakening: I like you *holds bouquet of flowers Reader, confused: um! *looks around to see if he's talking to someone behind them before pointing at themselves confused*... me? Jinwoo: Yes, You. Reader, Shocked: oh! Um... I like you too... but *hesitates* are you sure? About me??

The feeling is mutual!!! It's just his lover doesn't have alot of confidence in themselves. Or any confidence into getting a romance with anyone, let alone Jinwoo!! Reader feels like they have ZERO RIZZ (reader has enough rizz to woo Jinwoo so...).

Like would he hype them up???? Mayhaps but in subtle ways though I'd imagine🤔🤔. You think he'd be extra affectionate when reader gets shy??? Would this differ pre and post awakening?? (I imagine Jinwoo and reader wouldn't want the relationship public due to safety since hes a hunter and all)

AND WHAT ABOUT HIS POST AWAKENING GLOWUP AND THE FANS!!! READERS ALREADY SHY BUT THE TABLOID EVENTUALLY CHIPS AT THE SLOWLY BUILT CONFIDENCE JINWOO HELPED BUILD.

OHMYGOSH WHAT ABOUT THE TABLOIDS WITH CHA HAE-IN???? WOULD HE GET WORRIED SINCE READER MIGHT GET INSECURE OR JUST KINDA SAD???

WHAT IF READER TELLS HIM THAT HE DESERVES BETTER, BELIVJNG THAT READWR DOESNT DESERVE HIS LOVE?? AAAA OUCHHHH.. I GUESS HE HAS TO STAY WITH READER AND REMIND THEM OF HIS UNWAVERING LOVE WITH CUDDLES AND QUALITY TIME DJBDBFIDN

(reader is Jinwoo's ride-or-die, the monarch of his heart and soul, the love reader gives him is like comfort of warm soup at the end of the day, the kind that soothes even the deepest of wounds. Reader's love is also a drug, one that he cant get enough of. If he loses reader, Jinwoo would go insane.)

AUDBUDBDIBD HOLY!!!! WOULD HE GET PISSED ABOUT IT AND ENDS UP GETTING CLINGY IF CRAZY SHIPPERS TRYING TO PUT READER IN DANGER IE. SENDING A MONSTER READER'S WAY BECAUSE OF THEM BEING A "THREAT" TO THEIR SHIP (HIM AND CHA HAE-IN)??? I MEAN LIKE GUIDE THE MONSTER SPECIFICALLY AWAY FROM THE DUNGEON TO READERS LOCATION TOO. (TO THE EXTENT THAT ITS CLEARLY FOUL PLAY)

LIKE THANK THE MONARCHS THAT READER HAD SHADOWS ASSIGNED AND MAYBE WAS DECENTLY RANKED AFTER AWAKENING BUT IT COULD HAVE ENDED AWFUL IF THE FATES WERENT ON READERS SIDE!!

WOULD HIS ARMY GET PROTECTIVE TOO?? IGRIS??? BERU??? LIKE HOW DARE THESE FOOLS HARM THEIR MONARCHS BELOVED?!?!?!? 😡😡EVEN WORSE IS IF READER WORMED THEIR WAY INTI THEIR HEARTS BY GENUINELY GETTING TO KNOW THEM SO ITS PERSONAL NOW TOO!!

Reader has to calm down not only a PISSED jinwoo but his Shadows too (mainly Jinwoo though)!! And maybe being the only reason Jinwoo hadn't gone on a rampage after everything setted. Was he bribed with a heated makout session and plenty of cuddles afterwards to temper his rage and soothe his anxiety, yes. Did it work??? Probably. If it did??That's none of our buisness.

Id imagie Cha Hae-in would feel bad™ if they found out about Jinwoo and reader (just assuming the two being best friends)?? Being like "oh shit someone, a civilian no less, almost died because of her fans" Even worse if later on she learns that they're together aaaaa

But like seriously, what a messed up reminder of the power S-Rank Hunter have on the media. Yes, they know about their celebrity status affecting what they can or can't do but like this??? A whole different level, because yes, people targeting other?? Awful? Yes, but its fine. Using a MONSTER FROM A DUNGEON to target a CIVILIAN?? This is a whole new level of messed up.

Would the other S-ranks and National-ranked hunters feel like kinda bad too once they hear about it??

what the fuck??? For the following reasons:

No one deserves that

Its a civilian going against fans that are most likely hunters, the very individuals hunters are ment to protect from monsters ever since the dungeons appeared

THE HUNTERS USED A HIGH RANKED MONSTER TO TARGET A CIVILIAN (the mutual enemy internationally)

this was all done because PEOPLE BEING ENTITLMENT OF THE RELATIONSHIPS OF THE S-RANK HUNTERS.

This is furthur solidified and makes the WHOLE DEBACHLE worse because only EXPERIENCED hunters would have the knowledge and experince to be able to lure a monster from a dungeon break to a specific location, especially if reader wasn't even near the dungeon in the first place.

(For anyone who's read this all the way, thanks for reading my silly thoughts!)

[swanyras]

There’s Driftmark discourse happening again and I am going to add my two cents in on the book version of events because I think the show, very obviously, had an agenda against the Velaryon boys (and the Dragon Twins 😒) in order to give Ryan Condal’s self-insert more ‘sympathetic’ moments.

The events happen as such: they are NOT at Driftmark for Laena’s funeral, instead they are there for Laenor’s. Baela and Rhaena are not involved. Aemond sneaks off to claim Vhagar. Joffrey spots him and attempts to stop him. Aemond shoves him into dragon shit and proceeds to claim Vhagar. The fight between the queen and princess’ boys commences.

Joffrey ran to get his brother’s help. Jacaerys and Lucerys came back with him, all three bearing wooden swords. They fell on Aemond with a “fury,” but Aemond was older and bigger than all three combined and fought back. He managed to disarm three year old Joff, break five year old Luke’s nose, and smash the wooden sword he’d taken against the back of six year old Jace’s head. All three boys scrambled to get away from him, as he had thoroughly beaten them. There is absolutely no mention of Aemond receiving injuries from this part of the encounter, despite describing what he did to the Velaryon boys and his being ‘outnumbered’ by apparent ‘equal’ opponents.

Aemond felt ‘big’ and ‘mighty’ after claiming Vhagar and successfully beating up his ‘bastard’ nephews and began to gloat at them. (which, remember, this isn’t the night of their estranged aunt’s funeral, it’s the night of their father’s funeral.) The only boy old enough to understand the insults being levied at them was Jace, who proceeded to fly at Aemond and very quickly began being beaten “savagely.” Once again Aemond, the much older and bigger boy, had BEATEN all three of his nephews. He didn’t stop, instead continuing to attack Jace. Luke grabbed his own dagger (meaning he’d had it the entire fight and not used it), came to the rescue of his brother, and slashed at Aemond’s face in an attempt to get him to stop.

What this obviously indicates is that, whether you think the Velaryon boys were valid or impetuous in their going after Aemond, Aemond won. All three boys were on the ground. The ONLY reason the (rather one-sided) fight continued is because he decided to start mocking them. The only one that went back in was Jace, and Aemond beat him AGAIN. We’re not told that he stopped beating him “savagely” at any point. It cuts directly to Luke grabbing the knife he’d had the whole night and slashing (most likely wildly) at his face. The book verbatim says he “came to the rescue of his brother.” Luke is not some maliciously evil child who deliberately tried to maim his older uncle for life, he was a desperate kid trying to stop his brother from being hit repeatedly with no end in sight.

Even in the show it’s hard to take that viewpoint seriously. Sure, the boys are slightly older, and the Dragon Twins are involved, but Aemond is the one who tells Rhaena (a child he’s never met on the night of her mother’s funeral) that a pig would suit her to ride. He gains the upper hand against all four of them. He tells Jace and Luke, “You will die screaming in flames just as your father did,” and to all of them, “I’ll feed you to my dragon.” Mind you, at least three of these kids are actively grieving, Baela and Rhaena over Laena, and Jace over Harwin. There is nothing sane about this encounter.

You cannot cherry pick the scene and dialogue to your heart’s content just to victimize Aemond and villainize the Velaryon boys (Because of blood status, mayhaps? Tricky tricky). Did Aemond deserve to lose his eye? No. Did Luke intentionally try to take his eye? No. Was it an accident that could have very well been prevented if any fucking adult was near even one of those kids? Yes. The Velaryon boys are not “monstrous.” They certainly don’t grow up to commit atrocities left and right- oh, wait! We know precisely who goes on to do exactly that. Figures.

[nebulaafterdark]

Dragonseeds (Pt. 1)

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Cole)!Reader

Summary: If any man can claim a dragon, what good is the blood of Old Valyria?

18+ ONLY MDNI

Y/N Velaryon has loved Aegon since she was small; fascinated by the Prince, three years her senior. Like a shadow, from corridor to corridor, and one day, like a switch, they flip.

Aegon begins seeking her out, searching the castle high and low for his betrothed. Training fiercely by the sword, with the understanding that only a knight could properly defend her. A sworn sword will only go so far, they could not love her the way he does.

“I love you too much, you have ruined me.”

He often tells her, to which the princess smiles.

“As dearly as I love you.”

When they are forced to wed immediately after the incident at Driftmark, neither the prince nor princess are eager to produce heirs.

They fight often, loud, passionate disagreements. He raises his hand to her once, in a fit of rage. Using every bit of self restraint to cup her cheek instead, a bit too forcefully. With blunt nails digging into her delicate skin as she watches him with wide eyes. “I meant to strike you.” That is what one does when the person they love refuses to listen, is it not?

“You did not.”

“I wanted to,” he admits. “I could not.”

The princess offers a sad smile, turning her face into his palm. “That is what matters.”

They do not lie together for some four years, until the growing protests become too loud to ignore.

“The smallfolk believe that a strong line of succession is the work of a strong marriage. My claim is already in question, we will need a strong line.” Y/N whispers against his lips.

Aegon loves his wife, but detests the notion that she is to be bred like cattle to uphold their duty to the crown. He hates being a prince, he hates being a Targaryen.

That is why he so loves Y/N’s hair, each dark, rebellious wave. How it screams ‘I do not belong to you.’

He hacks off his silver tresses at the first sob of his wife on the birthing bed. Never allowing it to grow past his chin again.

The future Queen and King consort are blessed with twin daughters, followed by three sweet sons, the youngest two inherit their mother’s dark locks. Pleasing Aegon to no end.

“I want a daughter who favors you.” Aegon admits.

“Then we must try again.” Y/N grins.

Aegon fists a hand in her dark locks as they make love, as though it will grant his wish.

They are expecting a sixth child before King Viserys’ death. Before Aegon takes the throne to guard it. Before Y/N crowns him, in the dragon pit, at Ser Criston’s order.

“Listen to me now, these next days are critical. Decide now whether you wish to live or die, if you want your children to live.”

“My children are in danger?” Y/N whispers.

“Your children have been in danger.” Ser Criston sneers.

“Why are you helping me?”

“You know why.” Cole grits out. Blood of my blood.

“Surely it would be easier for you if I were gone.”

“I do not wish you dead.” The man tells her. “Crown Aegon, the people must see you to do it. Surrender it peacefully and they will fall in line.”

“And my mother?”

Cole squares his shoulders, “we save who we can save.”

————————————————————————

Only two days later tragedy strikes, pressing on the delicate ties that hold the greens together. Severing them with the news of Vhagar’s betrayal.

“I did not mean to kill Lucerys.” Aemond admits, in the presence of his mother, grandsire and brother alone.

“What did you mean to do?” Aegon slams his fist against the table.

“Have a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Aegon scoffs, “is it entertaining to you that I must now break this news to my wife in her condition?”

“Aegon,” Alicent sighs, “mayhaps you might wait until-”

“I will not lie to her, mother.” Aegon says, “better she hear it from me.”

“The grand maester should ready a draft, something to calm her.” Otto suggests.

“No.” Aegon shakes his head.

“Think of the babe.”

“I do think of the babe!” Aegon shouts, “I think of the babe and I think of my wife. My poor, sweet, wife who is never considered by another soul, save for me.”

Alicent swallows hard.

“This world can be cruel.” Otto admits, “you must keep your wits about you, your grace.”

Aegon scoffs, storming out of the room to find his wife, standing but a foot from the doorway. “How much did you hear?”

“Very little, I was headed to look in on the children. I heard you shouting.” She admits, “it stopped me.”

“Come, my heart.” Aegon murmurs, wrapping her in his arms. “There is something I must tell you.”

Y/N nods, against his chest. It must be something awful, she can feel it in her bones.

“I need you to do your best to keep calm. Our child needs you calm, yes?”

Again she nods.

“There’s been a terrible accident,” he begins swaying her. “Lucerys and Aemond had a run in at Storm’s End.”

“No,” she clutches him a bit tighter.

“Vhagar…is accustomed to war. I do not-“ he breaks off. “Aemond insists it was an accident.”

“My brother is dead?”

“I am so terribly sorry.” Aegon murmurs, pressing his cheek to hers, in a desperate attempt to absorb even an ounce of her pain. “I am so sorry.”

“I cannot breathe.” The thought of sweet Lucerys dying frightened and alone is inconceivable.

“You must.”

“I should have been there, to fly for my mother’s claim.”

“You are with child.” He reminds her.

“I am always with child, it makes little difference.” She heaves in a bitter breath.

“You could not have changed it.”

“I might have tried!” She pulls herself away from him. “I need a moment alone.”

“My heart, you should not be alone.”

“Please,” she insists.

Aegon spends the evening drowning himself in cups, choking down the urge to murder his brother.

————————————————————————

Y/N and Aegon make the decision to leave with their children under the cover of nightfall.

Ser Criston catches them of course, he always seems to. Only this time he makes no move to stop them.

“I swore an oath to protect you.” Cole insists. “For too long I have stood idle, allowing Rhaenyra to guide you. To mold you into the heir she so desperately needed.” He looks to Y/N, “I offered her a quiet life on the hillside, selling oranges.”

Y/N blinks at him.

“She wanted no part in that,” Cole smiles. “I suppose Ser Harwin Break Bones was more agreeable.”

Y/N stares back at him with familiar eyes…his eyes. “Are you not ashamed of me?”

“I did not turn away from you because I was ashamed. I have never been ashamed of you. I wished only to make it easier on you, so that you would not bear the shame.” Cole tells her. “Now you decide for yourself…the life you want. Return to your mother on Dragonstone, or fly away across the narrow sea.”

Part 2

Aegon taglist: @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @niyahnotnia

[peachdues]

Mayhaps some Sanemi NFSW headcanons 🤲

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA NSFW HEADCANONS

I neither regret nor apologize for how carried away I got with this.

CW: f!Reader • NSFW • MDNI • Sanemi’s oral fixation • breeding/creampie kink • switch!Sanemi • exhibitionism

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

He has a silvery happy trail that begins just below his navel and runs narrow before widening just before his groin. He really likes it when you drag your tongue down it (and it's a sure way to get him panting).

Below the belt, he keeps his hair neat and trimmed -- any time you're spent gagging on a stray pubic hair is time you're not spending with your mouth around his cock, and that's just a tragedy (but he doesn't give a shit whether or not you have hair!)

Now let's get to the good part: his dick

Physically, Sanemi's cock is just like the rest of him: absolutely intimidating. You lowkey think you're going to die the first time you see it because there's just no way in hell that's going to fit without splitting you in half, right???

He's above average in length -- about a solid 6.5-7 inches when hard, but he's about 2.5 of HIS fingers in girth. When he's erect, it stands straight up, with an angry, red tip that's already leaking because the man is eager -- and not just to be in you, but cum in you, too. Whether it's your mouth or your cunt, it doesn't matter, just know you're going to be filled no matter what.

FOREPLAY

Sanemi's favorite snack might be ohagi, but after meeting you, it's your pussy.

Sanemi doesn't cow before anyone, but that man will drop to his knees for you with just a flutter of your eyelashes, head going straight between your thighs so he can have his fill of you until you're doubled over his shoulder, legs shaking so badly he has to hold you up.

His ideal day consists of you, sitting on his face, while being tongue-deep inside of your cunt. He can go at it for hours, your weight bearing down on him as your thighs cage his head, while he laps at your sweetness and wraps those sinful lips of his around your throbbing, overstimulated clit for a nice long suck.

the man is a connoisseur of cunt idk what else to say

HOW HE FUCKS YOU

Let's go over your first time together.

Though he has an incredibly high sex drive, during those first couple of times, he exerts the self-control of a Buddhist monk.

This is also because for him, sex is more than just a way to feel good (though, don't get him wrong -- it feels fucking incredible). For Sanemi, sex also means being vulnerable; it means letting someone see him without the armor of his sword, his uniform, his status as the brutal, relentless Pillar he is.

So whether it's your first time ever or just your first time with him, he's going to be gentle -- because Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than hurt you

Like come on, the man has buried too many of his loved ones already, he ain't tryin' to bury you, too

He's moving slow and languid, barely pulling out in favor of rolling his hips into yours. Part of this is for your benefit, because he wants you to feel him, but it's also for his.

Sanemi might be balls-deep in you at the moment, but he's still a Hashira, and his observation and perception skills are sharp. He's mentally taking note of what touches and movements make you gasp and sigh, and especially those that make you dig your nails into his back, tighten your legs around him, and whimper his name.

After a couple of times together (and I mean like two MAX), buckle up, buttercup: Sanemi is now an expert in your body and he's about to educate you.

Okay, now that the first time is out of the way, let's talk Sanemi in bed overall

This man is a moaner

I'm sorry, but Sanemi Shinazugawa has never known how to keep his fucking mouth shut, so what makes you think he'd do so in bed? When your slick, tight walls are gripping him like a fucking vice? Who tf do you think he is, Tomioka??

He's also a talker -- especially the more pussydrunk he gets. Whether it's your name, how much he loves you, that he wants to marry you or get you pregnant, the man may as well be giving a sermon in his devotion to you while your eyes are rolled back in your skull, mouth half-open as he fucks every sane thought you've ever had right out of your pretty head.

The man is a switch. He's a dom in every other aspect of his life, so it's nice to let loose with his lover a bit and relax -- let someone else take control. After all, sex for Sanemi isn't just about feeling fucking fantastic, but it's also about expressing with his body what he can't with his words.

When he's on top, he's a service dom. Your pleasure is his pleasure -- so even as his cock slides in and out of you, he's still going to work. He's not cumming until you've cum at least two or three times, and even after he's done, he's still going to make you cum again. He's constantly telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look in whatever position he has you bent in, and how perfect you feel around him.

That said, he's into both overstimulating and edging you -- but he's not too mean about either.

But when Sanemi is on the bottom?

The whiniest bitch you've ever met.

He's begging you to go faster, or simply to give him more, but you love teasing him as much as he does you, so you'll alternate your pace in order to prolong his torture (but hey, it just means he cums twice as much and twice as hard in the end).

Play with his balls while you're on top and he will cum so hard he goes cross-eyed for a hot second

I feel like the fandom largely agrees Sanemi has a breeding kink, but I also thinks this translates into a creampie kink in general. Sure, he'll cum on your face, your tits, your thighs as much as you want -- but only after he's filled your greedy little cunt to its brim, and then he'll do it one more time for good measure. You're his girl, after all, so he knows you can take it.

Initially, he'd pull out every time, mostly because he didn't know how to apporach the subject of asking you whether you were okay with him finishing inside. He didn't want to assume that you were taking some sort of medication to prevent an accidental whoopsie, but while he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and having a family, he doesn't want to force that on you if it's not what you want

(local mama's boy has childhood trauma?? from his father?? it's more likely than you think)

so Sanemi continues to pull out, instead painting your stomach, your thighs, or your ass with his creamy, hot seed, even though it pains him to do so.

That is, until one night, he's pounding into you so goddamn perfectly, with your legs draped over his forearms and ass nearly resting against his thighs as he ruts into you, his weight pressing deliciously down upon you into the futon. You can tell by the way his hips are slapping against yours, making the lewd, squelching sound of your messy cunt nearly drown out your breathy whimpers, that you're close -- so, so close, but then Sanemi tenses.

"I'm 'bout to cum," he manages to grit through his teeth, his hips stuttering as he goes to pull out of your intoxicating, silken heat. Through the haze he's created in your mind, your stomach clenches as you realize you're going to lose this -- this wonderful feeling of being so warm and so full of him. Your release is close, so fucking close, and if he pulls out now, it's going to be ruined and you're so desperate to cum. Your legs lock around his backside, trying to hold him in place, and his eyes widen.

"N-no, 'Nemi, please," you start to beg, and to his bewilderment, you start tearing up, lower lip quivering because he can't pull out, not when he's making you feel so good; not when you're so fucking close.

"Shit," he groans, and his hips pick right back up slamming against you, his biceps flexing as his arms tighten around your thighs. "Shit, sweetheart, you don't have to ask me twice."

After that -- pulling out??? never heard of her.

KINK-O-CLOCK

Like I said: his biggest kink is giving you so many creampies, Hostess is thinking about offering him a job in product development

Fucking loves 69'ing, because he gets the best of both worlds -- your pussy on his face, and your mouth around his cock

Bit of a risk kink/exhibitionism kink. He likes the thrill of the risk of getting caught doing it in a place you two shouldn't be. He gets especially turned on at the thought of you having to go about your usual business while his cum is still oozing out of you.

Loves when you play with his ass but would rather be eaten by a demon than admit it.

Once, while you were on your knees in front of him, his cock jammed down your throat, you reached your hands around him to grip his ass and haul him closer. Somehow, your fingers dipped between his cheeks and the man bucked into you so hard, you almost choked.

Even though he nearly triggered your gag reflex, you were able to ignore it because the man let out a wholeass whine -- so of course, you had to do it again.

The second your index finger dipped towards his opening, he came in your mouth, and he came hard.

He likes to bite you/leave marks on you -- especially your breasts, your hips, and your inner thighs. He also enjoys when you mark him -- make sure to give him one or two on his chest, so he can display them proudly.

Truthfully, he loves when you pin him down by his wrists while riding him. Could he overpower you with a flick of his pinky finger? Yes. But something about your small hands wrapping so tightly around his while you hold him down against the bed, your hips grinding and swiveling up and down his length makes him go a little dumb in the brain.

Fun fact! You once restrained him by both his wrists and ankles and rode him and by the end of it, he looked like this:

[beforetimes]

OH btw did Shen Yuan go to Huan Hua Palace after leaving the abyss (forced by the system mayhaps??) or did he just happen to go to Jin Lan City separately?

[link to og au here]

i feel this is contingent on the goals that the system gives him. i think for the purposes of this au, the system actually wouldn't be too specific in the goals that it gives shen yuan? like, for example, i'll list a couple of major plot points that he'd have to complete.

one ) setting up the plot — reveal your demonic nature to luo binghe and go into the abyss at the immortal alliance conference

two ) survive the abyss — become a worthy adversary!

three ) epic showdown — wield xin mo against luo binghe!

i feel with more specific goals that would end up between all these, the plot would get a bit messy. so shen yuan has these three major ones to hit and otherwise? i don't think he'd feel the need to go to huan hua palace at all. i'm trying to think of a reason why he would need to and coming up a bit blank. in my head i think shen yuan would try to act as a wandering cultivator trying to do some bits and pieces of good when he gets to the human world again but always gets misunderstood/misconstrued so everyone around him is like! this foul demon! because the system demands there be an antagonist. if that makes sense.

and like! aside but i think the third mission from the system would end up being luo binghe sacrificing himself to get rid of xin mo for shen yuan's sake rather than the battle shen yuan was expecting to die in.

tldr i think it would be a coincidence that he ends up in jinlan at the same time everything goes on. but like. a system-supported coincidence.

masterpost