#she is a good villain I’ll give her that much

[karlyboyyy]

My friend was telling me that she had read an article (or maybe watched a video? I don’t remember) about different anime and manga that people felt were geared toward the female gaze vs male gaze. And Chainsaw Man was included in the female gaze category, being so popular with the ladies. And she wondered why that was. I mean, it’s a story about a powered-up teenage boy with lots of fighting - typical shounen characteristics. But I think there are two main reasons CSM is such a hit with women:

1) Exactly as OP says. The women are varied and RELATABLE. Nothing annoys me more in anime than a cutesy little girl with a squeaky ass voice and huge tits that has no purpose other than to act cute.

2) Pretty much all the men have some sort of trauma and/or rough-around-the-edges personality. Basically they’re all in desperate need of a good long hug. And I wanna give them that hug.

chainsaw man gave me women who are gross, women who are sinister and calculating, women who are lesbians, women who are badass, women who are not reduced to be the love interest and have their own emotional value (!), women who are monster fuckers, women who are useless on the first glance but hold the entire knowledge of the universe, women who are so sad and, most importantly, women who are losers. and I think that's pretty cool

[kryptonitejelly]

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

-

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

-

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

-

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

-

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

-

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

-

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

-

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

-

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

-

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

-

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[wandixx]

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

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

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 2

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

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

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

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

“So what’s on the agenda?”

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

Artemis nodded with a grin.

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

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

It turned into a whole Team competition.

It was going to be an aster.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are they?!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, ghost? What do–”

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

“Don't antagonize them,” Kaldur commended. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like you–”

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

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

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

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

“It’s classified”

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

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

“Calling the police”

“Why?”

“Robin, throw some laws, please”

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

“Right ahead of you, already calling them”

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

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

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

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

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

“Later M'gann”

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

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

Artemis shouted, alarmed.

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

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

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

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

[blluespirit]

okay first three episodes thoughts

good

bending is cool as fuck

sozin’s actor does an amazing job at full crazy but calculated

scenery is STUNNING

monk gyatso made me cry. idk why i just saw him and wanted him to give me a hug so bad

APPA ACTUALLY LOOKS GOOD AND NOT LIKE A LITERAL MONSTER

i wasn’t sure how id feel about them showing the air nomad massacre but i think the importsnt thing is that they showed it was a massacre - and that although they can defend themselves, they don’t have the ability to fight back like an organised army would bc they’re pacifists! they attacked a peaceful group

the abandoned fire nation ship in the southern water tribe looks so fucking cool

ARTIST ZUKO???!!! LETS GOOO

Dallas does an amazing job at getting across Zuko’s intense desperation

I actually ended up loving all the Sokka and Suki interactions sm it was so cute and wholesome

Katara is perfect i will kill and die for her

Azula’s opening scene being her manipulating those people trying kill ozai ultimately leading them to getting burned alive by him and smiling - literally so fucking good. she is the best villain in history of forever

really good move having the mechanist (Sai!) and Teo be in Omashu imo. having them destroy the northern Air Temple so carelessly always pissed me off

THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS ARE LITERALLY PERFECT I AM SCREAMINGGGG

I was wondering how they were going to introduce the Mechanist and Jet in a limited amount of episodes but I like how they combined the two stories

Also Sokka absolutely nerding out in the Mechanist’s home is so important to me

Zuko getting has ass beat by that lady for fighting Aang is literally so funny and reminiscent of the goofy aang vs zuko fights we see in season 1 (to be clear: i adore zuko. this is NOT hate on him)

Zuko losing shit about his notebook and trashing his room and then outing himself as a fire bender in Omashu is so perfect. god i love him so much. it’s very season 1 zuko. it’s giving I DONT NEED ANY CALMING TEA!!!

things i was not a fan of: (some of these are a little pedantic i’ll admit)

Exposition is a little is a little janky but i’ll forgive it i guess bc at least it isn’t egregious as The Movie That Shall Not Be Named

Aang leaving just to get fresh air/clear his head and intending to come back is a silly change to me. all i keep thinking about is the storm where we got those epic Zuko and Aang parallels which now doesn’t really work and also takes away a lot of Aang’s depth. A good change adds to the story, but personally this seems to take it away

WHY would they not make Katara the one to bring him back from the avatar state? just seems like a strange choice to me? not saying this from a shipping point at all but that moment is a big step to their bond/friendship especially since they have only just met

Still don’t understand why they made the head of the village Suki’s mum. like i don’t think it’s a terrible choice but they still could have let them have a mother/daughter bond but still let Suki be the leader without any implications of nepotism. it mostly seeems silly

tl;dr - really enjoying it so far!

[littlelamy]

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[seluneclerics]

Spoilers for Netflix’s Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft

so how are we feeling about ss endurance chat?

how much doomed yuri do you think i can handle before i tap out?

the way in one of the eps lara freaks out and just caves, deciding to call sam even though she’s been avoiding her after yamati situation… they need to reconcile with each other so bad it hurts, i’ll forever hate square for writing out their kiss and retconning their relationship because of dudebro homophobia. after watching all 8 eps, i’d say the series is def a 8.5/10 for me personally!! i love how much they’re leaning into this side of lara, and how much the other characters are willing to call her out lol

i know due to some of the themes it’s definitely gonna get shit on by dudebros and journalists alike, which makes enjoying it so much sweeter. there’s so much queer subtext with lara’s character here (and her relationship with sam) that it’s almost asinine to deny it. since they’re obviously setting up something with sam given the end of episode 8, i’m excited to see what direction season 2 goes, and what the reaction to that will be.

as for the plot, i think the villain of the season was okay, it’s definitely nice that they mirrored his trauma with that of lara’s own, though i think more could have been done with the whole “light organization” plot line. it felt like they were supposed to be trinity levels of bad, but we’re only really told about the bad things they’ve done, rather than shown it. there’s def room for improvement writing wise but all in all it was a good watch, would recommend if you’re a fan of the trilogy

the ss endurance subtext is so delicious. give me 15 of ‘em

[breannasfluff]

“Hello?” Jazz’s greeting is hurried, but Danny lets his eyes fall closed. His core thrums at the sound of her voice. “Who is this?”

“Hey, Prof.”

“Da–uh–uh–you!” Smooth, Jazz. Really smooth. “Don’t call me that.” There’s no bite in the admonishment. “Can you…talk?”

Are you safe? “I’m at a payphone, but no one is around.” Nothing too incriminating over the phone, please.

“How are you doing?”

It’s good to hear her voice. “I’m pretty good. Working, making friends. Looking into…things.”

Jazz growls on the other end of the line, code for I want to bother you about that but I can’t. Danny is fluent in Jazz-speak. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. Nothing to worry about. My friends are watching out for me.” It might be stretching Pam’s involvement slightly, but Jazz doesn’t need to worry about things she can’t fix. “I wanted to–talk.” 

I miss you. He’s too nervous to say it over the phone, just in case. What if the phone call is tracked? What if the GIW are moving toward him already? He didn’t have as much time to fly as he did last time he called, but he’s still in a different direction from Gotham. Even if they head this way, they still won’t find him.

“I’m glad you called,” Jazz says, voice going soft. I miss you, too. “Things are okay here. Summer is going to be over soon. Do you know what you’re going to do then?”

“Not yet. I’ll probably give it a few more weeks, see how work is going.” If the GIW finally back down, Danny will be fine to go home. Just as long as the arrival of one Danny Fenton doesn’t coincide with ghost attacks again. Sure, his enemies don’t attack nearly as often now, or are in the tenuous frenemies category, but Fenton luck is terrible. 

The conversation continues; inane things like what Jazz has been doing for the summer and small, heavily edited stories from Danny. I got a plant, I made new friends, I’ve taken up biking. A nugget of truth in each of them, but not the whole story. The secrecy chafes at him. 

Danny might be nearly 17, but he’s still a teenager. He shouldn’t have to be juggling secret identities, covert phone calls, and government organizations. He certainly shouldn’t be trying to subtly take down villains of a town he doesn’t even belong to. 

Read the rest here

[theemissuniverse]

FLIRTING WITH LIU KANG AND ONE SIDED FLIRTING WITH SHANG TSUNG MK 1 INTROS WITH FEM READER!

SUMMARY : what the title says. You’re an Earthrealm warrior.

A/N : not gonna lie I’m having writers block so take this lmao

MASTERLIST 1 , MASTERLIST 2

SHANG TSUNG VS (Y/N)

Shang Tsung : Your beauty holds no bounds

(Y/N) : Your ego holds no bounds

(Y/N) : Do Outworlders speak English? I am not interested

Shang Tsung : And yet you’re here…why?

Shang Tsung : Liu Kang cannot give you a what I can give you

(Y/N) : You do know you’re competing against a literal fire God right?

Shang Tsung : Leave that pathetic God and join me

(Y/N) : You literally got deceived by your titan double. I’m good

Shang Tsung : You are far too beautiful to be with a man like Liu Kang

(Y/N) : And my mouth is producing far too much vomit

Shang Tsung : If you don’t become my queen - you will become my enemy

(Y/N) : I already AM your enemy

(Y/N) : If I didn’t want you in the last timeline- what makes you believe I’ll want you in this one?

Shang Tsung : I can be very persuasive

(Y/N) : Of all the people that could be obsessed with me - it had to be a miserable sorcerer

Shang Tsung : You will fall for my advances eventually

(Y/N) : Stay the hell away from Liu Kang

Shang Tsung : I will. Once you join me

Shang Tsung : You were so close for falling for me in the original timeline

(Y/N) : Don’t remind me of how idiotic I used to be

LIU KANG VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I don’t think I can take much more of that sorcerers flirting

Liu Kang : I will put an end to it, my love

(Y/N) : So I fall for you in every timeline?

Liu Kang : It just means we are destined to be together

Liu Kang : You are the only woman made for me

(Y/N) : You always know how to make my heart race

(Y/N) : Come on. It’d be new and exciting

Liu Kang : While Temperature play sounds intriguing, I do not want to hurt you

(Y/N) : Shang Tsung seems to think he can have me

Liu Kang : *chuckles* I am the least bit worried of that sorcerer

Liu Kang : You are my one and only, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : As to you, Liu Kang

Liu Kang : Are you ready for your training?

(Y/N) : If it ends up with you on top of me then yeah

Liu Kang : I wish to treat you as my Goddess

(Y/N) : You sure know how to turn a woman on

Liu Kang : Shang Tsung’s flirting has grown drastically eye clawing

(Y/N) : You say that as if he’s been flirting with you. I’m the real victim

(Y/N) : Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?

Liu Kang : Your puns are both cute and insufferable

LIU KANG VS SHANG TSUNG

Shang Tsung : (Y/N) will fall for me eventually

Liu Kang : You are fooling yourself if you believe she would ever want you

Liu Kang : Stay away from, (Y/N)

Shang Tsung : You and I both know that deep down she craves for my darkness

Shang Tsung : I almost had her in the original timeline

Liu Kang : Only because of certain events that had taken its place

Shang Tsung : You call me the villain but you specifically crafted this timeline to make (Y/N) fall in love with you

Liu Kang : I am not capable of that kind of power nor evil. (Y/N) fell in love with me by her own free will as she has done through out other timelines

Shang Tsung : If you want her so bad, why have (Y/N) meet me?

Liu Kang : It was bound to have happen and as I have done every timeline, I gave (Y/N) the choice whether she wanted to be consumed by your greed and darkness

Liu Kang : (Y/N) does not want to be with you, sorcerer

Shang Tsung : If she doesn’t then why does she always end up back to me?

Shang Tsung : (Y/N) will fall for my power eventually

Liu Kang : That very statement proves you do not know her as (Y/N) is not attracted to power and greed

Shang Tsung : If I win, you’ll let me have (Y/N)

Liu Kang : (Y/N) is not a prize to be won

Shang Tsung : Together, me and (Y/N) can rule all realms

Liu Kang : Im sure (Y/N) would be interested in the man that got deceived by his own double

Shang Tsung : I could treat (Y/N) better than you

Liu Kang : Better? You tried to kill her in the original timeline

[butterfly-writer]

Ello! I just read your Dabi x Mother figure reader and I really really really loved it a lot! I was wondering if you could make a similar fic with the premise of Shigaraki x an older male reader who is a father figure towards him? You don't have to of course, I just really liked that Dabi fic and thought it was sweet!

A Father’s Love

Shigaraki x Male!Reader [PLATONIC]

Summary: Shigaraki grew up with an abusive father and a weak mother. He was traumatized after killing his whole family, and ended up living with All For One. It didn’t do any good for him, All For One was a controlling father figure who acted like he was doing what was best for him. All changed after recruiting a man with a unique Quirk.

★☽A/N: To be completely honest, A Mother’s Love is definitely one of my favorites!! That and Unexpected Interest. If you guys noticed my writing is slightly different, it’s either because I’m lazy, have improved, or have Writer’s Block… ANYWAYS, ENJOYYY!! <333

Contents: FLUFF & SLIGHT ANGST?

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

The League of Villains is a dangerous organization, known for their evil crimes. All orchestrated by All For One himself, a centuries old threat to Japan’s society. His successor, Tomura Shigaraki, isn’t much different from his mentor.

Tomura Shigaraki grew up with an abusive father and a weak mother. At age 4, he killed his whole family, leaving him alone with no guardian and ended up living with All For One. It didn’t do any good for him, All For One was a controlling father figure who acted like he was doing what was best for him.

All changed after recruiting a man with a unique Quirk.

He was an old soul, a man in his 40’s with a unique Quirk. His name was Y/N L/N, known by society as Poker Face for his card-related Quirk. He was recruited by Dabi a couple days ago and he had already made his impact in the League.

The reason why he was invited to the league was because of his Quirk, which allows him to have any ability to extract any meaning from a card and use it to his advantage. Despite being called Poker Face, the cards that he can only use are tarots cards.

Dabi deemed his Quirk useful and recruited him to the team. With time, he slowly went up the ranks and was side by side with the main league. He was hard-working and focused at any task he was given. He was an impressive addition to the team.

By the time he joined the main league, he became very well known in the LOV. Known for his fatherly aura. He used to have a daughter that would’ve been Shigaraki’s age if she hadn’t died in an accident. An accident that All Might failed to save everyone in. Because of this, his hatred towards All Might was born and it grew everyday by the amount of people praising him for his work.

Toga absolutely loved him! Her parents had always found her weird as a child. Y/N? He doesn’t give two shits about her quirks. “You want to drink my blood? Okay, just don’t drink it all!” He would say with a big smile on his face, offering his arm towards her. “You want me to find a bird to drink all its blood? Give me the whole afternoon and I’ll find you a juicy one!” Another thing he would say, a huge smile on his face.

Of course, his treatment towards her is different since he’s a girl dad inside and out.

Dabi was a bit defensive around him. Although he was the one who recruited him, he only did it for the sake of the LOV. (Shocking!) But, with time, he grew to love the man as a father who supported his dreams. Touya grew up with Endeavour as a child, who filled him with so much hope and expectations, only to tell him to give up because of his Quirk. Y/N wasn’t like that. Anything Dabi suggested, he would give a pat on his back and tell him “it’s a great idea!” with a thumbs up. He was like any old dad. But to Dabi, he was the best.

Due to Shigaraki’s past, he learned to not trust people. The only people he trusted were the main league, Kurogiri and “Master.” All For One wasn’t exactly the best father figure after his late father died. He wasn’t abusive, surprisingly, but was controlling and manipulative. He always said that he was doing what was best for Tomura and to trust him.

All these years, Tomura was brainwashed to think that All For One was the best thing that happened to him.

But he was wrong.

When Y/N greeted himself, Tomura saw him as a disgusting old man. He thought, How could an old man like him be so great? with a scoff. He didn’t even shake his hand!

Shigaraki was bothered every single day by the older man. Everytime he was having a tough time, he found it annoying that L/N would go out of his way to comfort him. Everytime he was motivated or had done something successfully, he was there to cheer him on.

Slowly, even though it was unintended, his trust in Y/N increased. He found it trustworthy enough to handle things on his own without having to report anything to him.

And by now, he trusted Y/N with all his heart. All For One did not like this “new recruit.” He found him distracting towards Shigaraki. He despised how Y/N was basically stealing his successor.

Shigaraki didn't know that he saw Y/N as a father figure. He was caring and much more considered than All For One. He couldn't believe he was comparing Y/N with All For One! The very being who saved him.

But he wasn't considering his opinions, he never was there when he was having his breakdowns.

Y/N was. In one of his breakdowns, he scratched his neck to the point it was red and blood started to seep out. All For One wasn't there, but Y/N was. He quickly helped him, stopping him from causing more damage to his skin. He helped him calm down and regain control over his emotions again.

He was kind enough to put some ointment or cream to treat his wounds. He was still shaking but Y/N didn't mind. He just smiled at him and reassured him that everything was fine.

That was probably the first time in ages. The first time he cried, sobbed, in ages.

He couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes. His body shook even more as tears started to flood his vision.

He didn't know if this was from relief or what. He didn't know why he was crying, he just was.

Y/N sort of panicked when he suddenly cried in front of him. He rushed to comfort him with a comically sweaty state. “Hey, hey, it's okay!” He embraced him and patted his back.

Shigaraki couldn't move, he didn't even hug him back. He just sobbed the entire time, wetting Y/N's shirt in the process. Y/N was still shocked by this reaction, unable to react except trying to soothe him by rubbing his back.

Let’s just say that Y/N is his favorite person now. More than All For One.. (AFO is definitely angry about this revelation).

Oh! And he’s not afraid to call Y/N “dad.” <33

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

[softestqueeen]

ugh, i just love you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: When you accidently let the a love confession towards your best friend, Spencer Reid, tumble out of your mouth, you think you’ve ruined the friendship between you completely.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, self destructive thoughts, spiralling SPOILER: happy end, cuz I’m a sap

wordcount: 1333 words

a/n: i had a sudden burst of motivation, after reading way too much angsty fics. i wrote this in like 35 min while rubbing my hands together like a villain at all of the pain that is happening here. muahahaha. anyways, i hope you enjoy this! <3

You ruined it. It finally happened. You knew that it would, sooner or later. Your love for your good colleague and best friend Spencer Reid were just too strong.

Sitting at your tables at the BAU, you and Spencer were the last two remaining. While trying to find anything that got the team closer to a profile, the two of you had ordered Chinese takeout. Taking a break you found yourselves in the break room, enjoying your food. Your conversation, the random facts Spencer told you and the meaningless stories you told him in return, made you forget about the gruesome murderer that was currently preying on their next victim.

Talking with Spencer always made you feel most at home. No matter how bad you felt or how low you were, Spencer could always bring you up again, no matter if it is on purpose or not.

And now, in a moment of vulnerability it had slipped out. “Ugh, I just love you Spence.”

“W- What- What did you say? You- You love me?” you could hear the pure disbelief in his voice, and you were sure he could see that same exact feeling on your face, even without you saying a word. You knew it was too late to take it back now, but you had to save yourself from this mishap, because he just couldn’t love you back.

“Uhm- well, uh, you know I love you as a friend, Spence. Of course, only as a friend,” the last sentence was a mere whisper spilling from your lips. You had to get out of here.

“Well, I think we won’t get to any reports anymore anyway. I’ll see you Spencer, bye!” you were already out of the breakroom, collecting your stuff to leave, when you heard him calling after you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Spencer!” were the last words he heard before you practically ran out of the building.

So, now you were in Penelope’s little “office” recounting everything that happened. You could feel tears well in your eyes as you told her exactly what happened.

It was too much, the thought of facing Spencer after this. It has gone so far, that you’ve taken a few days off work to collect yourself again. But now that you’re back, you timed it perfectly that you’d arrive before Spencer but after Penny so you could slip into her office and give her a rundown. Which you were currently doing.

“I see, that’s why you stayed home so suddenly. You know, you can always come and talk to me,” she told you. It felt comforting to know that she was on your side.

“Thank you so much Penny, that means a lot to me. But you know, I was happy with the fact we were friends, even if he didn’t love me that way. It was enough for me to be just with him as friends and now I’ve ruined it,” you didn’t now what to do with yourself. Of course, your other best friend doesn’t understand the situation like you did, which kinda frustrated you.

“But you don’t understand! I- I can’t- can’t do this anymore. I loved- I love him. I love him so much it hurts. Every time I looked at him it was harder to keep these words from slipping out. It is all I could- all I can think about. And now I’ve ruined it. I lost my best friend; I lost the chance for a future with him. I don’t want to live like that. Knowing he hates me when he is everything I ever wanted. The ray of sunshine on my rainy days. He always lit up the whole room when he came in, he always made everything better. Every time I see him it’s like that one thing you thought you lost long ago but now have found again. It’s exactly the same feeling.

“I just can’t- I just don’t want to live without him. What do I do know, huh? Leave and never see him again? Stay, but live with the pain, the agony to see him everyday without speaking to him? Without being his friend?

“I feel so intensely that I often wish I could just stop. Stop worrying, stop thinking, stop feeling. But in the end, it’s always the same. I just want it to end, don’t you understand?” you have now started sobbing, letting yourself fall into Pennys arms and she rubs her hand up and down you arm in a comforting manner.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t get yourself too worked up about this. You don’t know yet what Spencer is going to say about this. Maybe he feels the same,” in fact, everybody but the two of you at BAU knew that you were in love and for Penelope it was kinda funny that two profilers and also two of the most intelligent people she knew failed to realise that.

“I don’t know,” you mumble into her chest, “I don’t want to get my hopes up. What if he hates me now? What if he’s mad?

“Well, we’ll only find out if you talk to him,” Penny reminded you. You were sitting up normally again, slipping out of her embrace as she was talking to you.

A sigh leaves your lips. “You’re right Pen. What would I do without you? Thanks for listening.”

“No problem. You always know where to find me if you need to talk. But now get up and talk to Mr Boy Genius. I’m sure he’s in just as much agony as you are.”

You let out another sigh before getting up and waving Pen goodbye. Wiping your tears you brace yourself for what’s to come. Taking a seat at your desk, you wait for Spencer to take his seat opposite yours.

Once he does, a few minutes after you, he seems surprised to see you.

“Hey Spencer, can we talk? In private?” you ask him before getting up.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers before getting up too and following you.

Closing the door behind him, you found yourselves in the break room, the first available room.

After a beat of silence, you start talking “Spencer, I owe you an apology.”

For a second Spencer fears that you are going to apologise for telling him that you love him, but you surprise him.

“I’m sorry for just storming off and then practically disappearing. I was a coward and too afraid of your reaction,” you take a deep breath before admitting “I didn’t lie, Spence. I love you. I did however lie about only liking you as a friend. I like you so much more than that, but as you could tell I thought you don’t feel the same. Which- Which would be totally fine, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything when-“

Your rambling is cut off by Spencer’s lips on yours. For a second both of you freeze, before you further lean into him, kissing him back. That seems to snap him out of his trace, because he carefully raises his hands, to cup your face.

After pulling away he tells you “I- I love you too. When you told me that a few nights ago my heart stopped, because I thought you felt the same. But when you told me that’s not how you meant it, my heart shattered. I don’t like it when you lie to me, but I know where it came from, so I guess I accept your apology,” he smiles before adding “Only if you let me take you out. I- I’ve never done any of this before, but I’m willing to give it a try for you.”

“Of course you can take me out, Spence. Don’t worry,” you connect your lips to his again, both of you smiling now that you know everything’s well.

And if you weren’t so engrossed in each other, you’d see Derek giving 20 bucks to Penny.

“I told you they’d eventually tell each other.”

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with spencer reid and aaron hotchner, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

[igotanidea]

I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 2)

part 1

***

Four months earlier.

She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, head on Damian’s lap, his fingers threading through her hair. It was one of the very rare gestures of affection coming from him. Rare therefore highly appreciated, especially given the fact that it was mostly happening when they were alone.

It was not her intention to break the moment of peace, but sometimes shit just happens without much input of a human, let alone one’s opinion.

Her sudden gasp, followed by rising from the lying position, eyes widening and mouth falling open in undeniable sign of fear made Damian go into protective mode in an instant.

“Y/N? What happened?” he grabbed her hand and then her cheek, forcing her eyes on him “talk to me. What did you see on that phone?”

“Ba-Ba-“

“Now that’s not very helpful, beloved.”

“Batman…” she finally stuttered

“Fath-“ Damian started but bit his tongue in the middle, having almost spilled the secret of Batman’s true identity “I mean – Batman? What about him?”

“It says here that he captured another criminal…”

“And that’s so bad?”

“No- no, I mean-“

“Love.” Damian sighed and shook his head “I really cannot help you unless you tell me what made you turn into a jelly.”

“I’m scared of him.” She whispered.

“The Bat?” Now, that could turn into a problem, given the fact that she was unknowingly dating the son of Gotham’s self-appointed protector.

“No… Robin…”

“Robin?!” he repeated, with a little more force and surprise than intended and definitely too expressively to make her believe that it wasn’t personal on some level. “What? Why?” his tone immediately softened, turning casual and almost aloof to cover up the initial shock of the news.

“Cause he’s scary.”

“Scary?” Damian echoed, already starting to regret asking in the first place. It was one thing to strike fear into villains, and completely other to make his girlfriend terrified like this. “But- but he protects Gotham with Batman, doesn’t he? Serving justice.”

“Yes, yes I mean – it’s good, but-“

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about on his part. After all, there’s nothing weighing on your conscience is there?” his piercing eyes landed on her face, arguably a little too focused for comfort. “Apologies.” The intense stare got more calm, as he pulled her into his side, running fingers up and down her back soothingly – be it for her or for him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Robin. He has nothing on me.”

If only she knew.

“Dami…”

“Yes, love?”

“You don’t know everything…”

“What do you mean?”  he frowned, trying to read her facial expression.

“I did something bad…”

Now, that could be a problem too, putting his morals into test. If she did something that required punishment, Damian would have to choose between being her boyfriend and the hero he claimed to be. Either becoming a hypocrite or losing her for good.

Not that she actually did anything wrong in the first place.

But for now, he just waited for her to continue, watching the situation unfold.

“About two years ago –“ she started, diving back into the times when they didn’t know each other. “It was very early in the morning, some would say still night… I was at the bakery, cause you know I love freshly baked bread-“ Damian had to bite his lip to not lash on her for giving him so many redundant details instead of just making the point – “when suddenly a group of masked people burst inside.”

“Into the bakery?” he scoffed, mentally calling the robbers fools. “How much did they believe to gain from the bakery attack?”

“Not the point! It was not about the cash in the first place!”

“What is the point then, cause—” the sentence got caught in the middle as Damian remembered the day. He had been patrolling nearby, when gunshots caught his attention. Obviously, not waiting for Batman, he had rushed there, seeing three guys, a terrified girl and the owner of the shop, caught in a very unpleasant situation, involving firearms and an open cash register. The memories of her frightened face swirled in his mind, though he had to play along, pretending like he wasn’t there and had no idea what she was talking about.

“Robin showed up.” She specified, shivering a little.

“But that’s good, right?”

“He was …  ruthless. Dealing with those robbers in a few moves, knocking them to the ground. Making them bleed. A little, though my memory might be distorted by time.” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of the picture from the past. “But it was scary. During the fight I almost got shot myself—”

He remembered that too.

Lunging at her and pressing her to the ground, saving her from the ricochet bullet.

In his own belief, he saved her then, but clearly, In her scared state she saw this differently, getting trauma instead.

“You never told me about that—”

“It’s not something I’m bragging about.”

“Understandable. But why are you scared of Robin? He saved you, didn’t he?”

“But ever since then, he only brings the bad memories. The violence, the fear, the shots. He was almost cruel, fighting with them. Like he lost humanity just swinging his katana in the air. Like an assassin, who would have no problem just cutting people in pieces if they stood in his way.”

His heart broke at that moment.

She saw him – well – his alter ego – as vicious and aggressive.

So it was obvious now – he could never tell her the truth. Not if he wanted her to stay with him and not run away scared and screaming.

Therefore, instead of answering or pushing her to explain further, he just pulled closer without a word, capturing her in his embrace, offering safety and comfort.

If only she knew—

She could never know-

Now.

“I can explain—”

“Get away from me!”

“Please stop yelling.”

“You’re Robin!”

“I am Robin.” He sighed trying his best to keep his cool and not just scream at her for being irrational. 

She had every right to freak out about so many things. He hadn’t.

In the final analysis, it was him who gave her traumatic memories, kept a secret from her, left her in the dark and used his own twisted logic to justify all that.

So it was on him, and now the task on the horizon – convincing her that he was still the same person she knew and loved – was bordering impossible.

Especially given the fact she moved to the most distant corner of the apartment, as far away from him as possible.

And he thought that the worst thing that could ever happen to him was physical pain.

“Y/N, just hear me out.” He took one step forward and she shuddered.

“You’re Robin.” Her sobbing tore through the otherwise quiet space.

“Yes.”

“Was it your plan all along? Trap me like a wild game only to punish later on? Maybe this relationship was fake from the beginning.” She started spiralling out of control and he knew he had to stop it now, before she got into a panic fit or heart attack.

“It was never fake!” he cried out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to his chest, wrapping arms around her. Mindful to not make her feel trapped or overwhelmed. “It was never fake, beloved…”

“Let go of me!” she struggled against his grip and as much as he wanted to force her to stay in his arms, he couldn’t. Not if making her believe he was not aggressive and forceful was at stake.

“Just kill me already—”

“Kill you?” this time it was him who took a step back, her words like a bolt of electricity sending him into a cardiac attack. “is that what—Y/n! Is that what you think I do?! Kill people?!”

“I don’t know what I believe!” he yelled through the tears “How could you keep this from me!?”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t care!”

“Just listen to me!”

“You’re a liar!!”

“Well, technically-“ he became a little defensive, because her logic was holey. Not telling the truth was not the same as lying. Regardless, she never gave him a chance to finish that sentence, throwing a pillow at him. “Really?” his eyes rolled involuntarily in a well -practised almost innate gesture, that was definitely inappropriate in the moment.

“Well I’m sorry, I don’t own a katana like you! Would you rather I start throwing kitchen knives at you!?”

“Not really. Your aim is terrible.” He smirked and she couldn’t help but let out a muffled chuckle at his face.

“Asshole.”

“Now that’s a little offensive.” Seeing her calming down a little he dared to take one step forward, careful as if approaching a wild, untamed animal. “Is there really the need to call me such insulting words?”

“Blockhead.”

“Mhm.” Another step forward. “I’ll take it.”

“Dolt…” she added.

“Anything else on your mind?” he smirked, finally being close enough to grab and squeeze her hands, showing with the gesture that this time he was not going to let go, but also that he was not going to hurt her. Not now, not ever.

“A lot, actually.”

“Well, while you gather those thoughts, how about you let me speak?”

She nodded, and he looked deep into her eyes. Explaining himself or justifying his actions was something new to Damian, who learned that he can pretty much do whatever and whenever without the need to care for anyone.

But there he was, caring for her – loving her – and becoming unable to see her hurt and confused.

“I thought-“ 

“You thought you were protecting me? Please, come up with something original and not the slogan.”

“I was protecting you! And for the record – I forgot what we talked about those months ago! If I remembered that ironically all this time you were scared of me--”

“You forgot my trauma?” she mocked “not good, boyfriend.”

“Shit, Y/N!”

“Damian Wayne, are you swearing?”

“All the dirty things we did and you’re grabbing at my words?”

“Damian!” she blushed, as the situation became a little heated.

“See? This is what you should be linking with me.”

“Seriously, you want me to only think about---?”

“Not only that!” he cried out, becoming awfully aware how smart she was with twisting the words. “I thought you were terrified of me and now you’re just mocking?”

“I was terrified, but seeing you all flustered, unsure how to proceed is becoming funny.” She laughed softly.

“Well I’m glad I could be of entertainment.” He muttered under the nose. “What was so terrible that you think you did after all?”

“You swear you are not here to punish me?”

“I am here because I am in love with you.” There, he admitted it.

“You—“

“I love you.” He said again, not breaking eye contact. “And I hate to see you in so much pain and guilt. Help me help you. Tell me what this is about.”

“That morning at the bakery – I had no idea, I swear—”

“Y/N, take a deep breath. In and out. In and out.” He grabbed her hands, squeezing reassuringly, making her sit against the wall.  “Talk to me.”

“One of the breads …” she stuttered “there was drug powder in it…. That was why those guys attacked the bakery. Cause those were the dealers and the owner got into their black books! But I didn’t know, I only learned about it after the accident…”

“You did nothing wrong.” He cut her off, his tone stern. “You hear me, Y/N? You did nothing wrong.”

“My friend got addicted to it. And It’s my fault, cause I was the one who recommended the place to him!” she whimpered and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Hey, no.” he pulled her closer into a comforting hug.

“Mhm. Yes.” She sobbed, raising head and looking into his eyes with teary gaze. “It got so serious they admitted him to the rehab facility.”

“It was not your fault.”

“You don’t know that…”

“I do.” Damian sighed, brushing hair from her forehead “that friend you’re talking about? He was quite a piece of shit, if you want my opinion. He wasn’t a victim in the situation, Y/N. He was the mastermind behind all that drug business.”

“And how do you--?”

“Cause I was the one putting him into that facility and seeing his conviction later on.”

“What…?”

“He didn’t just get addicted at his own will, love. He was guilty of much worse things than you accused Robin of. I mean – me.”

“Dami…”

“Hush.. It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

„I’m sorry—”

“No. You have nothing to apologise for. You are right. I never should have kept it from you. But you see, sometimes, the worst monsters are the ones around us, not really wearing masks.”

“When did you get so smart, huh?” her lips twitched a little as she fought the forming smile.

“When I realised that I don’t want to lose you. I am so sorry you had to live in fear and guilt all that time. If I could erase it—” Damian caressed her cheek ever so gently, conveying all the emotions bubbling inside his heart.

“Well at least you gave me closure.” She leaned into his touch.

“Now that you see the man under the Robin mask, tell me -am I really so scary to you?”

“You’ll take offence if I say you’re not, won’t you?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not as scary under the mask.” She laughed softly, and even if those were not the words he would normally accept, she was the exception to his every rule.  

“Hey! Watch yourself!” His tone was less of a warning and more of an expression of relief.

“What?” she grinned playfully. Despite the initial concerns and fear, seeing the side of Damian that not many people get – the goofy and normal one – was helping her realise that Robin was not all he was.

And putting on a vigilante suit was not making him cruel or brutal, bloodthirsty and ready for a killing spree.

Under all that, he was a guy. Her guy. The one who vowed to protect not only her, but the entire city.

Maybe all it took was a reminder of what was hidden behind that attitude and pride.

And she smiled at him.

“Oh no. I know that smile. It means you are forgiving me for being Robin.” He muttered, knowing what was coming.

“Yeah. That I do.” She kissed his cheek. “But-“

“But you’re not forgiving me for keeping the secret.” He sighed, wrapping arms around her. “Which can only mean, I’ll be having a hard time for god knows how long.”

“I love how you get me so well.” She laughed, knowing that whatever punishment she was going to impose on him in the nearest future, he would take it without a word. “But--. Wait, does it mean that your siblings are--?”

“Of course. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“But—”

“One step at the time, beloved. One step at the time…” 

@obsessedwithromance @sandlexx @123-just-ignore-me @fatimashariq @jinviktor @cupids-diner @booksrcool @angelkat1013

[jellieland]

It’s a while before Scar reappears on Hermitcraft, after his victory.

When he does, Pearl is doing one last sweep over the server. Things are starting to slow down a little as the server is shut down, colours muting and mobs stumbling to a stop, but it’s nothing half so violent as it was last time.

Xisuma has backups of backups of backups, and Pearl has been repeatedly assured that last time was the exception, not the rule.

Still. She checks things over.

She is flying over Scarland when she sees Scar, sitting there at the end of Main Street and staring pensively out across the server.

She hasn’t seen him since he killed her, almost a week ago.

She flies down and alights softly beside him. “Hey Scar,” she says.

His eyes flicker to meet hers. He gives her his signature half-smile. It looks a little strained. “Well hello there, Pearl!” he says. “You know, I forgot about this place!”

Pearl looks at him for a moment, and heaves a sigh. So, they’re talking about this, are they? She sits down on the bench beside him.

To be fair, she isn’t sure who else he would talk to about it. If not her, it would probably be Grian. Grian, who just this morning had snapped at her to make sure she didn’t miss out Scarland in her final loop, in that way he had of transforming a remarkable amount of the worry he felt into irritation as soon as it left his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Pearl. “Me too. Nice to be back, right?”

“It’s ending,” says Scar, and Pearl winces. He isn’t wrong. The timing on this isn’t brilliant, but they couldn’t really wait much longer. “Why do things keep ending?”

“What, just sort of things in general?”

“Everything always ends,” says Scar, staring at her intently. “It ends and ends and ends. How in the world do you not go mad with it?”

Pearl chuckles ruefully. “You're asking the wrong person, mate.”

A villain, but not a demon. Forced into wickedness, but not made with it inside him.

No. No, he wouldn't understand. Not really.

“I don’t think it’s the going mad that’s the problem, really,” she says. “I think it’s the keeping going afterwards.”

“Oh.” He sighs. Then he narrows his eyes in suspicion, glancing up at the sky. “What about the moon, Pearl?” he asks. “How’s that been looking? If that’s gone all funny again as well, I don't know what I’ll do.”

Pearl looks up at the sky.

She looks up at the sky for a while.

It’s been more than a year, now.

“I reckon the moon’s still worn out after last time, mate,” says Pearlescentmoon, still staring at the sky. It’s the easiest place to look, at the moment. “You can’t do that kind of ending twice, you know? It would be too much to do it twice.”

The sun is bright, but she feels a chill, deep in her bones.

“Well,” says Scar. “Well! That’s good to know. But still, it’s very nice of you all to wait for me for so long.”

Pearl shrugs. “I mean, we didn’t really wait. It’s only been a week.”

Scar blinks. Blinks again. “Huh,” he says. “A week. Interesting!”

“Interesting?” Pearl squints at him. “How so?”

He stares at her for a moment before he speaks again. “I thought that was it,” he says. His eyes look far away. “I thought that was all there was, Pearl. I thought there was nothing, after.”

Pearl opens her mouth, but he keeps going.

“I thought that was all there was,” he says again. “So I wasn’t going to just give up. You know? That would be absurd! I was going to keep going. I did keep going!”

“You did,” says Pearl. It’s halfway to a question, but not quite there.

She doesn’t know if she would have kept going, if she had been given the choice, and not handed victory and death in one fell swoop. That’s one of the few things about her victory that she hasn’t wondered about much. She hadn’t even considered it before, to be honest.

She thinks, probably, that she would have kept going.

She’s less sure that it would have been pretty.

“I did,” says Scar. “You have to, don’t you?”

Pearl thinks of Grian. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think it’s a choice, sometimes. I think that makes it mean more, actually.”

“Well. Maybe,” says Scar. “It just- I couldn’t waste it, you know? It was a whole world.”

The weight of that settles over her. A whole world.

A whole world, and refusing to give it up, until you are made to.

“How did you die?” asks Pearl. “In the end.”

“My elytra broke,” says Scar.

“…Huh.” says Pearl, taking a moment to consider the implications of that statement.

“I was trying to get more shulker boxes,” says Scar. “Do you know how annoying it is trying to get stuff done without shulkers, Pearl?”

“Yeah,” says Pearl. “I have an idea.”

“Well,” says Scar, “I was trying to get more but my elytra broke. Did you know, the void kills you no matter how many hearts you have.”

“Oh,” says Pearl. “Yeah, I guess it would. You see Lizzie down there?”

Scar snorts. “No. Everyone falls alone, Pearl, don’t you know that? Martyn, and Lizzie. And me too.”

Pearl looks around at the world, slowing down around them. “Well,” she says matter-of-factly. “You’re not falling now. You’re here now.”

“…Yeah,” says Scar softly. “Would you look at that? I sure am.”

They sit in the quiet for a while.

“Why would you not kill me?” asks Pearl abruptly.

Now is not the time to ask. She knows this. But it’s been burning at the back of her mind for the past week, and there will never be a time to ask.

Scar blinks at her for a moment, but recovers without missing a beat. “But Pearl!” he says, all wide-eyed innocence. “I did kill you!”

She gives him a look. “When I asked, Scar.”

“I-” he stops, and sighs, serious again. “Look. I know that was what you wanted. But- it wouldn’t have been fair.”

“Why?” asks Pearl.

“It wouldn’t have been fair,” says Scar again. “You can’t talk about it, first. You can’t volunteer, you can’t plan it out, you can’t draw a line in the sand. It ruins everything, if you do that.”

He looks at her, eyes intense.

“If you do that, that makes it a choice, not a reaction. That's what it is, I think. That must be what it is. You said it yourself—if it’s a choice, it means more.”

“That was my choice, Scar.”

He shrugs, unrepentant. “And I made mine, too.” He frowns for a second. “Think of it like this: I was fighting Gem. And when she died, I just kept fighting.” He shifts slightly, looking almost uncomfortable. “It doesn’t have the weight it would’ve had if we stopped and decided to make it matter more.”

“You’re saying it doesn’t matter?” asks Pearl flatly.

“No!” exclaims Scar. “No, that’s not what I was trying to say at all! But- I wasn’t given your life. I didn’t just accept it. I fought for it. And you didn’t have to give it away. It’s worth more than that, Pearl. Someone should have to fight for it.”

The look he gives her then… she has to look away.

“That’s what I think,” says Scar firmly. “That’s what I wanted to say.”

Pearl stares down at her hands for a while. “I don’t know if I totally agree with how you chose to do things,” she says. “But… thank you, Scar.”

They are, again, quiet for a while.

“What do you think I did, while I was still there?” asks Scar eventually. “You know, if someone was making you guess.”

Pearl leans back and looks at him intently, considering. “I reckon you caused chaos, and made something beautiful.” She shrugs. “That’s what you always do, yeah?”

“Oh,” says Scar, looking genuinely touched. “Why thank you, Pearl. I certainly try.”

“You sure do. You know, whatever else you do, I have to give you that,” says Pearl wryly.

Scar looks at her for a moment, then tilts his head slightly to the side. “You know, Pearl,” he says, serious, then pauses.

“Yeah?”

“I left a whole pile of shulker boxes in the Mounders’ base.” His voice stays serious even as his typical sly smirk creeps across his face.

Pearl takes a few seconds to register what he’s just said. “I- you- Scar!”

“Completely unsorted,” he says airily. “It was just a real mess, honestly.”

“Why would you tell me that!”

He snickers at her. “I can’t believe you would leave such a mess, Pearl! I mean, who else could it have been? It’s in your base, after all!”

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Pearl narrows her eyes at him, laughter bleeding though the mock-annoyance in her voice.

He shakes his head. “And you call yourself a cleaning lady!”

“Right, that’s it!” says Pearl. “I’m finding this server and tidying it up whether you like it or not.”

Scar jerks back slightly, humor suddenly shaken.

…Right. She’d almost forgotten.

He looks away. His expression, though, is thoughtful rather than pained.

“I don’t think you need to do that, really,” he says.

Pearl watches him. “Why not?” she asks. “Are you the only one who’s allowed to keep trying?”

He sighs.

“There’s always going to be some things you can’t clean up,” he says. “But you can’t always be going backwards to get them.”

They look out at the world around them gently, carefully slowing down to a stop.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong,” says Pearl. “I guess it’s a balance. What you can fix, and what you need to let go.”

Scar nods. “I think so.”

He gives her a warm look. He looks up at the sky, where the normal sized moon is just beginning to rise. He glances around him at the remarkable things he has made, that this time will be left just as they are.

“And there’s always a new sunrise,” he says.

[ultralightpoe]

Buy The Book - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: I got inspired by that movie, idk what to say

Warnings: Kidnapped

Word Count: 2393

Requests:OPEN

[Thank you for the gif @bill-weasley ]

Enjoy!

Something was off about the day and no one believed you. 

Maybe it was the morose hotel room your agent had put you in for the week, or maybe it was just the gray foggy weather. Either way out you felt like something was wrong, you felt like you were being watched. 

“Honey, I needed you ready like 30 minutes ago.” Your agent, Santana, stresses the second she enters the hotel room with her own key copy. She attacks you quickly, pulling you from the bed and pulling you to where you had laid out your shoes the night before. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”

“I just have a bad feeling.” You mumble, letting her slip the heels on you as if you were a child. She pats your calf solemnly before standing to fix your hair and check your makeup one more time. 

“I know, you’ve told me all of this before. . You feel as though you are being watched, Michael Jackson style. You don’t feel good. You forgot to eat breakfast. You forgot to wash your laptop.” She rants, snatching both your ids for the event before grabbing both your bags and leading you out of the room. 

You turn at the least second, needing to see the door shut for your own sanity before you allow her to lead the way. 

“I think you are just stressed. You have always hated large crowds and you hate talking in front of people but this is a necessity. You have a terrific book out and you need to own it.” Terrific is definitely not how you would describe the book. Not in the slightest. But Santana had always admired your books far too much. 

It had started years ago, 8 books exactly, and you had been up on an all nighter the day the original project came to mind. 

You had been taking a publishing class and among 24 other aspiring authors you were sure the dream wasn’t worth it anymore. Especially after you had all received the project for the next month, write your own novel. 

There were hundreds of ideas that came to mind for you, heroes and villains alike, and you were sure that no matter what genre you picked from the suspense bucket your professor carried around you would have it down. Then you unrolled it you saw in the neatest handwriting you had ever seen….ROMANCE. 

And you knew you were screwed. 

Up all night, page after page of ideas you can do, all of which you hated. You hated the genre, the least romantic person alive and of course fate would have you be the one to choose the subject. You had always wanted to do fantasy, with epic battles or sci fi. 

Anything but romance. 

You were just about to give up, hyping yourself up to march to your professors class and demand a new one, but then on the way out of the library in an attempt to hide from the sun like a forgotten demon you ended up running into the campus crazy. 

Redmayne, an old man that swears his family was murdered one night by a man with a metal arm, that he had stolen something from his family. “THE WINTER SOLDIER! HE’S COMING FOR US ALL!”

And he had sketched the face onto the sign he carried around. 

You remember stopping short, nearly stumbling from the sudden stop as your bag swung around and you took in the sketch. You were a terrible person to say that the sketch was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. 

Just a black and white coal sketch and your heart was beating through your chest. 

“Sir,” You called, already feeling like a fool. “I have 40 dollars in my pocket and I’ll give it all to you for that sign.”

And thus your new world was created. 

‘The Frost Warrior’ was born, weeks of pouring over your laptop as you created the story of a man named Jameson Boone, a man who once fought for his country and now served as a brainwashed assassin. And no one could forget the leading lady, the spy that met him on a mission and have continued to work together since, with tension and heat keeping them close. 

Your teacher had loved it so much she recommended it, and you received an agent. And the series became real. 

Soon enough the ‘Frost Warrior’ and his true love were being snatched from every bookshelf as people followed along with their journey. 

“I think it was the last book.” You mumble, watching the elevator doors close you both in as she whips her head to glare. 

“What? What do you mean?” She snaps out. “Jameson just got freed from their captors!” 

“So? Now what will he do?” You laugh bitterly, pulling at the awkward outfit you were wearing. “The Frost Soldier is out in the real world. There is no more story.”

“Bitch, revenge.” Your publicist snaps, hands out in the hair from shock. “I want him to get his revenge. To…… to find that person. The head of it all. I want Jameson to come back and prove himself. Last book? We have built an empire off these novels and you want it to be the last book?”

“I don’t know. It seems weird. With all the fighting on the news, did you see that captain america footage? It just feels like there are more serious things to-”

“We will talk about this later.” She snaps once the doors open, pulling you with her to meet your awaiting fans. 

Minutes go by and soon enough you're blinking to try and see through the amount of flash photography there was, smiling a tight smile as it all begins to die down and the questions start coming in. 

“What was your inspiration?” 

“A sign, years ago, with a drawing on it.” You smile. 

“Did you inspire Stephen off of Steve Rogers?” 

“No. I actually have no clue where he came from.”

“You mentioned on your last tour that the rare amulet the Frost Warrior had gone to find was inspired by the ‘Amulet of Ronav’ which was just recently given to a museum after being missing since your book. Were you excited about the news?”

“Yes.” You admit, nodding. “Though I am so curious as to who randomly decided to return that.” 

“Do you think the ‘Frost Warrior’ will try and find some of the weapons that ‘Baskilisk’ was making him hunt down? Maybe assassinate the monsters that hurt him?”

And you drew blank on that question because truth was you could see it, you could see the man of your imagination crawling through vents and tunnels to find the weapons before they could. You could see him growing his relationship with his old best friend and joining the new world with his leading lady. 

But you didn’t want to anymore. 

“If you’ll excuse me.” You rush out, standing quickly to walk out of the conference and rush to the bathrooms. Nauseated and tired. 

This was never what you had imagined. 

In your rush to run some cold water and pour it on your face you missed the man coming into the bathroom right behind you until you stood at full height to look in the mirror. Jumping quite a bit when you see him. 

“OH MY-” You whirl, kicking out and managing to hit his thigh before his own hand reaches out to grab your throat, pushing you into the wall beside the sink and cutting off your circulation as you scratch and claw at his hands. 

His eyes were red, not bloodshot but the pupils of them were red, like a demon and by the way he didn’t even flinch when you scratched across his face you were sure he was. 

“Easy now pet.” He mumbles, pushing you up by your throat until your feet were no longer on the floor. “I ain’t gonna kill ya. I just need you to…..”

And the words were missed by the way your vision blacked out, body going limp. 

- 

“Oh, can we get the bag off her head please?” A voice breaks out, sounding a bit slow as you blink in a pitch black nothing, until someone roughly pulls the bag over your head and you are forced into a new light. “Oh, she does not look well.”

“They drugged her in the car.” Someone behind you mumbles as your head sinks forward, trying to close your eyes again. 

You must have passed out for a couple more minutes before a bucket of freezing cold water is splashed over you, snapping you awake in a panic. You struggle to catch your breath as you fight against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” You manage to scream out, your voice scratchy and dry as the bondages scratch and pull at the skin. But you can’t stop the panic, can’t stop the way your body struggles and your breaths shorten, can’t stop the tears from falling down until you can taste the salt of them. “What. The. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, really, about all of this.” Someone sighs out, wearing an overly expensive tux and far too much gel in his hair. “I’m a big fan and it was never meant to get this far.”

“What the fuck.?” You gasp out, looking around you in attempt to process what was going on. Every wall was gray and metal, with what looked to be bolts sticking out, the floor concrete. Nothing to recognize. 

The men standing around you all stood with guns at their hips wearing black on black, all looking a bit bored at the moment which was a complete contrast to how you were feeling. 

“Am I in a warehouse?”

“GOOD EYE!” The gel hair laughs out, clapping his hands together. “You are just absolutely marvelous.Didn’t I tell you guys?”

“You’re going to kill me!” You cry out, fighting against the restraints a little more. “Please please please, don’t! I’ll give you anything!”

“We don’t want to kill you lovey.” He sighs out, coming to pull a bit of your hair between his fingertips. “We just need some information.” 

You stay silent in hopes that he will explain more, closing your eyes to try and even out your breathing, making your body go still to try and ease some of the burn you had given yourself from fighting against the zip tie. Only he doesn’t keep talking, instead he watches you as if you were stupid. 

“Information….on?” It felt silly, pulling an attitude while being tied up to the chair. 

“The Winter Soldier.” The man smiles, still looking confused that you didn’t already know, tilting his head as he awaited your answer. “Oh. right. I apologize, you probably prefer to call him that code name….. The Frost Warrior.”

It’s silent for a moment while you blink at him, finally coming to terms with what he was saying before you burst out into laughter so hard that your ribs started aching. You couldn’t stop laughing, the tears less of panic and more so of humor now as you tried to calm down. 

“Excuse me-” Gel hair tries to interrupt before you shake your head. 

“Okay, where are the damn cameras?” You blurt, laughing as you turn to look for them. “This is a prank, right?”

“I can assure you-”

“Honestly Santana did too much this time.” You laugh. “You want to know about the Frost Warrior, well hate to break it to you bud, that was my last book.”

“Last book?”

“Yes, Last one.” Your laugh dies down a bit. “No more Jameson Boone, no more searching for lost and ancient weapons. Or being an assassin.”

“Well….Jameson Boone has stolen something from me. And I think he needs to be handled. So I would disagree.” Gel hair bites out, taking a couple steps forward in anger, and you begin to realize that he was being completely serious. 

“You have been publishing stories that have actual information in them for years and now I;m currently being HUNTED by that fool and I know you know his next move so you NEED TO TELL ME!”

“Wait-” You gasp as you catch the glint of a knife right before his body slumps down quickly, everyone not tied to a chair moving forward to see what might have happened. You angle your body to look to see what happened and you notice the bullet hole the same time they do. 

A scream tears through your throat as the men around you all raise their guns in their own panic. 

More pops ring out and more bodies slump before a hooded figure marches into the room. Every move is one done in grace, when they smash their foot in someone's face they don’t miss a second before throwing someone over their shoulder and smashing a gun. 

You take this opportunity to try and escape, throwing your body in an attempt to get rid of the zip ties only for the chair to fall back, your body with it, both landing with a heavy thud as your head cracks into the concrete. 

“Oh…” You whine out in pain, wanting nothing more than to hold your head as the hooded figure comes to stand over you. “Wait, please I beg you-”

“Don’t.” The figure grunts out, reaching up to remove the hood, the face from the sign years ago. The same jaw and the same eyebrows pinched together in anger. “And maybe next time you’re kidnapped you shouldn’t offer to give them everything.”

“Oh my god.” You gasp out, blinking twice as much to erase the image. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.”

“Come on.” He grunts, lifting the chair to slice the zip ties with his knife easily, hauling you over his shoulder. 

“You’re not real.” You mumble, feeling something warm leak down your face. “Oh my god I hit my head and I’m bleeding out. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” 

“I am. Because I’m talking to a fictional character right now.” You’re set down then, on your feet so the man before you can assess the damage with an angry glare. 

“We haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Bucky Barnes…. I think…. And you’ve been writing novels about me.”

-

Part 2?

[yourfavouriterival]

enticed

tomura shigaraki x fem! lov! reader smut

warnings: mutual masturbation also blue hair shiggy, slight degredation, some praising, sort of knife play (there is a knife involved but not used to harm), humping, oral (female recieving), reader wears a skirt in this one, switch!shiggy more than hinted at bc hot, fluff at the end

word count: 2.6k

summary: sex with shiggy when you've snuck away

-

“sh—show me,” he ordered, reclined in the desk chair with his blue hair tousled against the headrest, panting into the open air in front of him; and though his body might’ve been relaxed and nonchalant, his eyes remained hyperfocused on her, one hundred percent. 

“spread your legs,” he groaned, that raspy voice sending shivers down her spine and resulting in, through no doing of her own, her knees opening to show him what they both craved. “god,” he groaned, pressing his head back into the chair and letting his eyes fall closed. 

she knew what he saw: a wet patch in the middle of lacy panties and naked thighs shaking with the tension of the moment. and she knew what she saw: a tent against the zipper of his (ratty, to be honest) pants, and if she focused hard enough, she thought she could see the beat of his heart in his underwear. 

she placed her sock-covered feet onto the arm rests of the chair, leaning back onto her palms on the desk she sat on. how did she get here, perched on a random desk and showing off her cunt to shigaraki, the named man staring at her like he wanted to absolutely devour her?  

but then again, she could say the same thing about herself—what she wouldn’t give to be on her knees with him deep down her throat—with the way she, too, was devouring the image of the blue-haired villain panting because of something she did.

“please,” she whined, dropping her head against her shoulders.

“look at me,” he commanded, and it was like he was yanking at her head with the way it shot back up to make eye-contact with him. god, she loved his eyes. was that weird?

“i’ll—i’ll beg, just—”

“don’t be a slut,” he tutted, but then he was unbuttoning his pants with two fingers (somehow) and slipping a hand into his pants. “just sit there and be good. let me look at you, okay?”

“okay,” she whispered back, but she could feel her own wetness glide through her folds when she twitched. she wondered if she could cum from rubbing her thighs together, but more than cumming she wanted to be good for him. 

just days ago, she barely knew the man—had only heard of him through the news—and now she was not only a part of his little league, but was allowed to watch him, in this way?

she watched as his hand grasped his cock, enamoured with the way his hips just slightly jerked when he twisted his hand for the first pump, pressing down with the palm of his hand onto his head. let me see, she wanted to beg. let me see you fuck your hand.

instead, she offered, “i can take them off.” to emphasise, she let her knees drop further, the fabric of the panties bunching and slipping into her slit just slightly, and she saw the way his eyes narrowed at the movement. “let me show you, please—”

he cut off her whine with a harsh laugh, eyes squinting. “oh, such a slut, aren’t you?” 

she keened at the sound of his laugh, breathing shakily when he indifferently stood up, fly and button still open, now in between her open thighs which might’ve been trembling just from him being as close as he was. 

and then, from the discarded bag to the left of her which she’d thrown off in her haste to show him just how much she wanted him, he grabbed a switchblade, flipping it open and hovering it in front of her face. 

she didn’t flinch. how could she when she knew that, in this moment, if he asked her to slit her throat, she would? 

“cut these slutty things off. let me see,” he mocked in the same tone of voice she had begged him in, “that pretty pussy you’ve been hiding, okay?”

with a condescending tilt of his head, he sat down once again in the chair and then flipped the knife in his hand, holding it by the blade and showing her the handle.

she took it, sitting up slightly straighter, and practically throwing herself to cut her underwear off at the sides, the only sound in the room being that of ripping fabric and short breaths.

“shigaraki,” she started, pleading with her eyes, “please, i feel like i’ll explode.” her complaint fell on deaf ears, instead he watched her with a smirk as the fabric finally dropped onto the table. with the help of her hand, empty now that she’d thrown the knife hastily in her desperation, she removed the fabric from her body and went to throw them, but was stopped by him reaching out a hand. 

“give it to me,” he ordered, and grabbed it right where she’d been dripping, she realised with an embarrassed flush. “does this really turn you on this much?” he teased.

and all she could do was try not to moan aloud as he brought the ripped panties up to his mouth and, whilst staring her down, licked up her wet patch and groaned into the fabric. 

“does just me looking at you make you into such a desperate little mess?”

“yes,” she whispered, slipping down the table to present herself like a gift to him. “yo—you don’t have to do much, just use me and i’ll be good,” she begged. 

“show me your tits and i’ll consider it,” he demanded, and he held in his laugh when she scrambled to unbutton her top and expose her pretty bra to him. “look at that,” he grinned, running his tongue over his teeth.

she pushed her chest out at that. “please,” she cried, close to tears at how wound up he was getting her—probably without meaning to. she could feel her own heartbeat pulse in her cunt and her nipples tighten. “i just need your…” she groaned, voice whiny and breathy. “anything, please,” she sobbed.

“pinch your nipples,” he commanded, breaking her out of her little cry-fest. 

“w—what?” her eyes widened, and she stared at him as he lowered both his pants and his boxers and let his cock spring up, catching it with his palm and spreading his pre-cum down his throbbing dick. 

“fuck,” he groaned, veins showing in his neck as he rubbed a circle on his tip before pumping his cock again. “pinch your tits for me, okay?”

“okay,” she stumbled, pulling down the cups of her bra to frantically pinch at her nipples, sitting up straight. in her mind, she could almost imagine it was his dangerous hands pinching and pulling them, and in her fantasy his mouth was wrapped around them. 

with each pinch, she unknowingly rocked her hips against nothing, dripping arousal onto the hardwood table under her now that her cunt was pressed directly at it. 

“thank you,” she mumbled between needy moans. 

enamoured, he watched the rock of her hips, not even telling her off when her eyes fluttered shut with each shot of pleasure going to her swollen pussy.

he could imagine himself, stretching her out and pressing deeper until she choked on the feeling, and if he was lucky, she’d whimper a ‘wait, too big!’ but they’d both know she never wanted him to stop. and, somewhere in this fantasy of his, he was the one begging for respite, maybe with his hands tied and his cock used by her. 

instead, in time with her lurching hips, he fucked up into his hand, tightening it when his eyes zeroed in on her leaking hole. 

he was watching it so intently that he didn’t see her fingers moving to touch her cunt until two of them circled her clit, breaking him out of his trance. 

“ha,” he mocked, though it sounded much less threatening with the way he panted for breath. “you really are depraved, aren’t you?” 

she’d fallen back onto the table at this point, and to meet her eye, he stood, still fisting his own cock, until he could feel the heat her body gave off. 

“hey,” he drawled. “make yourself cum and i’ll reward you.”

“god,” she groaned, voice almost animalistic, as her back arched. “but i need your—anything,” she begged. 

“what, you want my fingers? what if i decay you?” he teased, leaning closer to her face, body hunched over hers. “would it be worth it, huh? to die?”

her heart was beating faster than she could keep track of it, with both the threat and his closeness. “don’t care,” she mumbled out. 

“you’re shaking from your fear,” he noted, barely getting the words out before his head dropped with a low, desperate moan as he pushed his cock against her thigh. “do you like fear? will it make you cum?”

“yes,” she gasped, pressing hungrily on that sensitive bundle of nerves, fingers slipping through her slick as she tried to make as small circles as possible. “shig—oh,” she moaned out, smiling through the pleasure at the sudden rutting against her thigh as tomura shigaraki fucked his cock against her, just as depraved as she. 

“fuck,” he spat softly under his breath, and she knew if she had the willpower, she could make him whimper, maybe press his lips into her cunt and make him taste her. “put them in,” he sighed.

she did as he asked, sliding in two fingers in her distressed state, fucking them into her and curling them, rocking her hips in time with shigaraki’s. “f—feels so good,” she forced out, breath coming in short pants. 

“slut,” he laughed again. “you just—just have to tell me how slutty you feel, huh?” 

“y—you’re the one who’s humping my thigh,” she retorted.

she wasn’t prepared when he suddenly shot his hand out and forced two fingers down her throat. as she choked on them, a surprised moan vibrated around them. 

“shut the fuck up,” he warned, but the drool pushing out between his fingers made him reach down with his hand to remove her hand that was fucking herself, pulling it out to bump his mushroom tip against her swollen, glistening clit. with each rock of his hips, her folds peeled apart to allow his veiny cock between them—so dirty to hump like depraved teenagers in an abandoned building on an old desk.

and then he was using her cunt to jerk off, hunching over her more to practically lay on top of her, rubbing against her clit in short, desperate thrusts. 

“shit,” he moaned, pre-cum oozing from his tip to meet her arousal. “so good for me, yeah?”

“‘ank you,” she gurgled out, eyes rolled deep into her head. 

his head lowered to her still uncovered tits, and just like in her fantasy, his mouth—with his dry lips and his salivating mouth—wrapped around her nipple, moaning desperately around the skin as he got closer and closer to his orgasm against her pussy. 

he ignored her responding sob, ignored her knee hooking over his hips to press them impossibly closer together, ignored her hips jerking up to unwittingly try to get the tip of him into her pulsing hole—because he was so, so fucking close, balls drawing up as his stomach clenched.

and with a final thrust of his hips and with his fingers pressing down on her tongue, he spurted against her clit, his mewl buzzing against her tits as he buried his head in between them. 

and she might’ve been just as close as he was, but even if she didn’t reach her peak, she could’ve died happily when he came against her.

the cum pulsing out of his tip that thumped against her clit leaked down into her waiting hole, but he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to, both of her legs tightly wrapped against him and she pushed her hips into his in desperation as her orgasm fully faded away.

struggling, nearly squeaky breaths against her tits as he came down, still pushing his hips lazily into hers as he drained himself of cum. his fingers still deep in her throat with her eyes fluttering shut as he, probably without meaning to, pressed hard against her tongue, covering his fingers in her spit.

she basked in the moment, keeping her eyes closed even when he pulled his head away from her tits and, with a lot of fluid involved, pulled his dick away from her pussy and his fingers from her mouth. 

tightly wound, sure she could cum if he just blew on her, she threw an arm over her eyes to collect herself. 

she didn’t know how enticing, how gorgeous she looked, legs falling from his waist to reveal her pussy covered in his seed, legs spread wide to give shigaraki an amazing view of her clenching hole and her heaving chest, nipples erect and winking with his spit still adorning them. 

he just couldn’t stop himself.

suddenly, he was on his knees in front of her, mouth open as he pushed his face into her cunt, some part of him wanting to become one with her.

she squealed, eyes shooting up and her upper body lurching up to behold tomura shigaraki, eyes closed and mouth open, licking and sucking at her cunt. he was eating her and him from her twinkling folds.

“taste so good,” he mumbled, moaning into her when she grabbed at his head and his hair, pressing him into her. in hindsight, maybe she was hurting him, but with the way he opened his jaw wider to devour her, she guessed he enjoyed it.

he was sloppy, and maybe not so talented with eating her out, but he sucked on her clit and he thrusted his tongue into her and he buried his nose into her and she was close again, throwing her legs over his shoulders. 

“look at me,” she breathed, yanking his hair back until just his tongue was dancing on her clit and he opened his eyes. hands clenched on the table to push himself as close as he could to her. 

his eyes, so wide and needy, and his shoulders shifting with each desperate breath of her scent was most definitely what threw her over the edge.

or maybe it was the moan he let out when she groaned, “good boy, shig.”

her back arched into the air, digging her legs into his shoulders to somehow press herself closer to him. 

pulsing, throbbing, around nothing. 

suddenly, she was falling, detached from shigaraki’s mouth and finding herself on the ground. “what?” she mumbled, still in the haze of her orgasm. 

“sorry,” came from above her, and it was then she realised. he’d put all his fingers on the desk beneath her, dusting it. 

all she did was laugh, pressing herself up from the ground to stand in front of him. “i’m just glad i have that effect on you.”

“shut up,” he rasped back, but she caught the dusting of pink on his cheeks as he zipped his pants back up. 

“c’mere,” she muttered. still half-dressed and with a sprinkling of dust on her back she pressed forward to press a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. head tilted, eyes closed. 

in a spur of the moment decision, he mirrored her. an ounce of vulnerability in this otherwise filthy encounter shown in the way his mouth clumsily followed her silent instructions, moulding to hers. 

when she pulled away, breath noticeably coming in shorter puffs, her hands roamed up to his face, fingers dancing over his jawline and his under eyes, smiling at the way he pushed into her. poor boy’s touch-starved, she thought. 

eyes still closed, he was searching for her mouth again and she pressed her lips to his again, mewling when two of his fingers tentatively traced her face in a mimic of her. 

but his eyes shot open when one hand moved from his face to his ass of all places. “delicious,” she grinned. 

“shut up.”

[dovesdreaming]

A deal with a pirate

Summary: You and Harry fake date so that he can come to Auradon and you can show everyone you’re still a villain kid. Though maybe this deal got blurred when Harry became so charming.

A/N- sorry about not posting for a while works been giving me way too many extra hours and then my childhood 1D heart was broken. Will try to post more again!

Requested

Masterlist

-

Auradon had always been a place of glittering sunlight, lush gardens, and chirping birds, a world far removed from the shadows of the Isle of the Lost. The moment you stepped foot here, you felt the weight of its purity pressing down on you. But no matter how radiant the kingdom of Auradon was, there was always room for a little mischief, and as the daughter of Yzma, you knew how to find it. You had been here for a few months now, blending in among the children of royalty and reformed villains. But despite the perfect smiles and lessons on "goodness" you'd learned one important lesson: everyone had a price. That was the reason you found yourself in a small, forgotten courtyard behind the palace, waiting for someone who had no business being in Auradon.

Harry Hook. The infamous son of Captain Hook, complete with his devilish grin, coal-lined eyes, and ever-present hook hanging at his side, strolled toward you like he owned the place. His swagger never ceased to amaze you. He was, after all, a pirate and pirates rarely walked anywhere. They strutted. "Didn't think you'd be the type to call for help, love" he drawled, voice thick with his Isle accent as he approached. The teasing smirk playing on his lips was all too familiar. You crossed your arms, unfazed. "I'm not asking for help, Hook. It's business”.

Harry tilted his head, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Business, eh? And what's a prim and proper Auradon girl like you need from the likes of me?" You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I need a favor. A small one. You pretend to date me, just for a little while”.

That caught his attention. His brows shot up, and he leaned in slightly. "Aye? Now, why would you need a pirate boyfriend? Tryin' to stir up a little trouble, are ye?" You resisted the urge to snap back. Harry loved to push buttons, and you couldn’t afford to lose your cool, not yet. "I need people to think I’m not falling in line with the 'Auradon way' too much. They're starting to suspect I’m actually trying to be good”. "And you’re not?" Harry quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. You smirked. "Let's just say my mother would roll over in her grave if she knew I was doing anything without an ulterior motive”. Harry let out a low chuckle. "Yzma's daughter. Of course. But what’s in it for me? I don’t fake date for free, love”.

You'd expected this. "You help me, and I’ll help you get to Auradon permanently. You’ve always wanted off that miserable Isle, right?" His eyes sparkled with interest, though he tried to hide it with another smirk. "Auradon, eh? And how are you plannin' to pull that off? They barely let me in for school events, and even then, it's like I'm smuggling treasure just to set foot here”. You shifted your weight, the familiar scheming instincts kicking in. "I’ve been working with some of the royals, doing a bit of undercover work. If you’re my 'boyfriend,' I can convince them you’re reformed. You know, good influence and all that. It’s only temporary, but if it works, you’ll have a shot at staying in Auradon for good”. Harry was quiet for a moment, studying you. His gaze was sharp, calculating. It was one thing to make a deal with a pirate, but it was another to trust one. He had to see the benefits for himself and he clearly did.

He flashed you a grin, all teeth and mischief. "Alright, darling. You’ve got yourself a deal. But I’ll warn ye… I don’t do anything halfway. If we’re gonna convince the royals, we’ll have to make it look real. Very real”. You swallowed, sensing the challenge in his tone but refusing to back down. "I can handle it. Can you?" Harry’s smirk widened. "Oh, I think you’ll find I’m more than capable”.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of whispered conversations, stolen glances, and staged rendezvous that started to feel a little too convincing. It was all part of the act, you told yourself. The long walks around the palace grounds, the way Harry would casually sling his arm around your shoulders in front of everyone, or how he'd wink at you across the dining hall when the Auradon kids were watching, it was all just a game. Except, sometimes, it didn’t feel like a game. One afternoon, while sitting on a bench in the palace gardens, away from prying eyes, you turned to Harry, trying to keep your tone casual. "You’re really laying it on thick, you know that?"

Harry leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. "That's the point, love. We're supposed to be convincing, aren't we?" You shot him a look. "Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be so…" He leaned forward, smirking. "Charming?" You glared at him, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "Annoying”. He laughed, and the sound was warm, almost infectious. "Aye, well, if I’m annoying, you’re the one who’s letting me. Seems to me like you’re enjoying this more than you care to admit”. You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, and something deeper, made the words die in your throat. Instead, you looked away, your heart pounding. "Don’t get too cocky, Hook. It’s still just a deal”.

Harry was quiet for a moment, the teasing edge in his voice softening. "Aye… a deal. But maybe it doesn't have to stay that way”. You froze, slowly turning back to him. His expression was serious now, the playful mask gone. For the first time, you saw vulnerability in his eyes something real beneath the pirate swagger. Your heart skipped a beat. This was Harry Hook, the son of one of the most dangerous villains in history. And yet, sitting here in the gardens of Auradon, he wasn’t the hardened pirate or the ruthless flirt. He was just a boy who wanted something more.

Before you could respond, Harry stood, stretching his arms above his head, the grin returning to his face like a shield. "Well, darling, we’ve got a party to attend tonight, and if we’re gonna keep up appearances, I suggest we make quite the entrance”. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. Maybe this deal was becoming more complicated than you’d intended. But then again, deals with pirates usually did.

[itsabouttimex2]

Sooooo... How do you feel about the season 5?

In short? Mid. 6-6.5/10.

In long…?

A severely rushed season that bit off way more than it could chew. A season that had the characters pull powers from their asses more frequently than ever before. A season that had shitty “dramatic” moments for the sake of having dramatic moments. A season that lampshades issues instead of fixing them. A season with so, so much wasted potential.

It basically boils down: everything they wanted to do COULD have been good, but they just didn’t have the time.

I’ll go into some varied details below. I’d also like to make clear- I’ll be tagging all of my Season Five Posts with “Lego Monkie Kid Season 5” and “LMK Spoilers” until August 1st. Then the gloves are coming off and I’ll stop tagging them.

(I still liked the season, for what it’s worth- and you can watch it in full here! I’ve got some drafts and bots cooking as we speak!)

This was a cute send-off to Flying Bark! It was nice of them to acknowledge, in some way, everything that those dears did for the show- because Lego Monkie Kid would NOT be where it is without them.

Significantly less cute-

The absolute kick in the fucking face that constantly superimposing old footage over newer, worse footage is.

You don’t want us to be constantly reminded of the animation downgrade- that’s the literal last thing that anyone wants. Why would you constantly remind us that it used to be better?

What the fuck does this accomplish? Okay, let’s make comparisons, cause that’s the only thing that can result from pulling this shit-

This is what happens when you constantly reference the older, superior content.

PEOPLE CONSTANTLY NOTICE THAT YOUR CONTENT IS WORSE.

Also, why is it so saturated? How do you make a Lego Minifigure look like he has jaundice?

It’s just a bad look to constantly reference content you can’t live up to. I’m hoping they’ll just recreate old content instead of sloppily pasting it into the background of the show- it’ll be less jarring.

Alright, what else…

———

Uh, I fucking called it! Nuwa is not MK’s “loving though bereft mommy”! Which I had been guessing ever since the Celestial Pagoda leaked, actually-

I mean, come on. He’s literally stealing the stones away from her as she reaches to take them back.

And the Season confirmed it! Nuwa might’ve be been MK’s creator, but she certainly wasn’t his momma.

And you know how the series subtlety clues you in to how little she cares about her “son”?

Nuwa didn’t give him a name. She had hundreds, maybe thousands of years to think on it- but no. No name.

We mortals name our pets, our vehicles, our art. We love them enough to bestow monikers.

Nuwa didn’t even bother to name her own sapient mortal creation.

But when he makes a move against her, does something she doesn’t want, takes destiny into his own hands?

She calls out to him with one word- not “son”. Not “MK”.

Nuwa angrily calls him “mortal”.

Becuase that’s all he ever was to her, really. A mortal pawn. A handmade puppet.

Someone designed to fulfill a sacrifice. Even though her intentions were good, MK’s sole purpose by her hand was to shoulder the weight of the world like a good little hero.

So… a potential villain in the making?

———

Lampshading the fact that you’re doing the ��macguffin hunt” again does not excuse doing the “macguffin hunt” again.

Lampshading the “apocalypse after apocalypse” plots doesn’t make them any less exhausting.

Lampshading Macaque’s lack of narrative consequences does not undo the awkward and weak redemption arc.

———

They changed Mei “no longer wielding” the Samadhi fire, I guess.

Ignore that she never displayed a hint of concern or sorrow over “losing it” because now she’s sad and worried (after backlash from the fans over her losing it) about losing it.

Like, Subodhi knows so much about the world and the universe that he’s aware of his existence in the ink scroll- but he gets Mei not having an interplanetary level threat inside her wrong?

I smell a retcon.

———

Macaque’s redemption arc is still shit. I’ve got a whole rant queued to release soon, actually- I imagine it might be the final time I comment on his arc until Season Six.

To put it short- Macaque still falls upwards into redemption. No pushback or difficulty or introspection. He’s just a magically better person without any onscreen development to make the change believable.

But they reference this at one point?

Sun Wukong points out that Macaque escapes the trial without any punishment, and is just allowed to mope in place of an actual consequence.

So maaaaaayybeeeee they’ll do something in Season Six? I’ve lost all faith that he’ll ever be an interesting character again, though.

He’s essentially just “brooding rival #80058”. Instead of being a character that calls back to Seasons 1-3, from 4 onwards he’s just a brand new dude who totally didn’t commit any atrocities with a smile on his face- and he’s a worse and more boring character for it.

———

If I haven’t misjudged the intent, I think Monkie Kid will be going back to being an episodic series for the extent of Season Six. Again, they lampshade the “apocalypse after apocalypse” thing, yeah?

And now they have a perfect formula- find someone who’s having trouble with their new power, and help them.

And we might see Bai He again???

Let’s hope for a good breather season!

———

Rest in piss Li Jing their asses did NOT cook with you sorry papa

You could’ve been interesting in the writers didn’t try to pull a “loving father” bait and switch after you got like four scenes of being a raw jackass

If they were going to deviate from the source material and make you a good dad couldn’t it have just been:

“Li Jing, you were not invited to the trial!”

“STF that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy-“

“Father I’m 300-“

“Hush son, let daddy take care of this- that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy when he stole the Samadhi fire map!”

Maybe next season you’ll get to be interesting, hun.

(I’m still writing for Lotusfam though)

———

Drama for the sake of drama. 0/10 scene. Could’ve just had the interruption come AFTER they held hands, but no. Gotta drag shit out for the shippers or whatever. There was no reason to prolong this reunion.

I’m really not a fan of the “just wait another season for it”, mentality. Stop stretching shit out. You had a chance to do something sweet and heartwarming, and chose not to for the sake of trying to drag a conclusion out.

Ugh.

———

Characters just pull powers out of their ass for the sake of forcing dramatic scenes.

THESE ARE DOGSHIT SCENES

THIS MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. THIS IS DONE SOLELY FOR THE SALE OF “MUH DRAMATIC FINALE” AND IS BAD

ITS BAD WRITING TO HAVE CHARACTERS PULL NEW MAGICAL POWERS OUT OF THEIR ASSES FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

IF WUKONG HAD THIS POWER FROM THE START HE SHOULD’VE USED IT AGAINST HIS FUCKING LETHAL ENEMIES AND NOT SAVED IT FOR HIS PRECIOUS STUDENT

MK NEVER LEARNED TO USE THE FILLET SPELL. THE WRITERS PULLED IT OUT OF THEIR ASS TO FORCE DRAMA BY HAVING MK TORTURE HIS MENTOR LONGER THAN EVEN THEIR ACTING ENEMY LI JING DID WITH A CIRCLET THAT IS CANONICALLY TIGHTER THAN HIS FIRST

WE SEE HOW FAST HE IS WHEN HE FIGHTS THE AZURE LION

MK CAN MOVE FASTER THAN WUKONG

HE COULD’VE BEATEN HIM THERE IN AN EQUALLY CLIMATIC RACE

I FEEL NOTHING WHEN I WATCH THIS BECAUSE IT IS FORCED DRAMA FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

—————————————————

💚💚💚