#so many that I haven’t even touched yet UGH

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3

warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader

childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.

the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.

"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."

without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."

fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.

naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"

you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.

in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.

"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"

your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.

a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.

you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.

"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.

"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.

the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;

"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"

and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.

you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.

the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?

of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?

the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.

although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.

your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.

like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.

but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."

you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.

he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.

you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.

with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.

"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"

you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.

the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.

your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.

his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.

one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 

childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.

but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.

he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay you said you like angst so a ominis x mc x sebastian where she ends up breaking down because to pick one would be to hurt the other and neither deserves that. they both have been through so much

An Impossible Choice | Sebastian x Reader x Ominis

UGH okay this was TOUGH, so many directions I could have taken this, but I think it turned out good (and angsty ahah) enjoy!!

Words: ~2,800

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, Hurt/No Comfort

You never expected to find yourself here—trapped between two people who mean the world to you, each step forward feeling like a betrayal of the other. But lately, that’s all your friendship with Sebastian and Ominis has felt like: a careful balancing act, an impossible equation with no solution.

The three of you have been inseparable since fifth year, bound by shared secrets, whispered laughter in candlelit corridors, and the safety of knowing that, no matter what, you’d always have each other. But something changed. And you don’t know when, or how, or why, only that the weight of it presses down on you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs.

It’s in the way Sebastian’s gaze lingers too long when you speak, as if memorizing the shape of your lips. It’s in the way Ominis’s voice softens when he says your name, something reverent and unspoken curling around the syllables. It’s in the sharpness of Sebastian’s posture whenever Ominis leans too close, the flicker of something dangerous in his brown eyes. And it’s in the way Ominis stiffens when Sebastian’s hand brushes yours, his grip tightening on his wand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Neither of them has said anything outright, but they don’t have to. You feel it in every stolen glance, every tense silence. And the worst part is, you love them both.

Not in the way a friend loves, but in the way that keeps you up at night, staring at the ceiling, your heart aching with the knowledge that no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

So you try to ignore it.

You pretend that everything is fine, that nothing has changed, even as the moments between you grow heavier, thick with things unsaid. But ignoring it doesn’t stop the way your stomach knots whenever Sebastian throws an arm around your shoulders, his touch possessive in a way that makes your skin burn. It doesn’t stop the way your breath catches when Ominis murmurs your name, tilting his head toward you as if you’re the only thing in the world worth listening to. It doesn’t stop the guilt that coils inside you like a living thing, twisting and writhing every time you laugh too easily with one of them while the other watches in silence.

You tell yourself it will pass—that they’ll move on, that you’ll somehow find your way back to the friendship you once had. But deep down, you know better.

Because you can feel it. The tension, the inevitable breaking point, pressing against your ribs like a warning as you sit between them, a book open on your lap. You haven’t turned a page in ages—not with the way Sebastian and Ominis keep shifting, the air between them drawn tight as a bowstring, poised to snap.

They’ve been like this all night. Every glance between them is sharp-edged, every word that passes their lips too carefully measured. It’s not a fight. Not yet. But it’s something close, something simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the wrong word, the wrong move, to send it all spilling over.

You pretend not to notice. You keep your eyes on the book, fingers gripping the pages a little too tightly. If you acknowledge it, if you so much as breathe wrong, everything will collapse.

Then Sebastian shifts beside you, leaning in, his arm brushing yours as he points at a passage in the book.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for minutes,” he murmurs, voice low, amused. “Need me to read it for you?”

You barely have time to react before Ominis snaps.

“Do you ever give her any space?”

The words lash through the air, cold and cutting. Sebastian stills, his expression darkening as he turns to face Ominis.

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Ominis lets out a humorless laugh, standing to his full height. “Is you, Sebastian. You can’t go five bloody minutes without draping yourself over her like she belongs to you.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenches. “And you can’t go two bloody minutes without acting like you know what’s best for her.”

Ominis scoffs. “Someone has to.”

It’s spiraling too fast. You sit up straighter, reaching out. “Can we not—”

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy hovering, you’d realize she doesn’t need you to control everything she does,” Sebastian bites out, ignoring you entirely.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Ominis sneers as he gets to his feet. “Coming from you. The man who never knows when to stop.”

Sebastian’s hands curl into fists. “You want to say that again?”

“I’d love to.” Ominis tilts his head, voice sharp as glass. “You’ve always been selfish, Sebastian. Always taking, never thinking. And now you can’t stand the idea that you might not be the only one she cares about.”

Sebastian rises, and for a moment, you think he might actually swing at Ominis. You shove yourself up between them, pressing a hand to each of their chests.

“Enough,” you say, breathless, desperate. “Both of you. Just—stop.”

But neither of them are looking at you. They’re locked onto each other, eyes burning with something raw, something ugly, something that has been coming for a long time, creeping in at the edges of their friendship, poisoning it from the inside out.

And you? You’re the catalyst. The excuse they need to finally let it all unravel.

The thought makes you sick.

“You really think you’re the better man, Ominis? That you’re any less selfish?” Sebastian laughs. “At least I don’t hide behind self-righteous bullshit and pretend I don’t want her.”

Ominis' expression flickers—just for a second—but the crack is there, sharp as a splinter. His lips part, then press into a thin line as if he’s forcing something down, something dangerous. When he speaks, his voice is quieter now, but no less venomous.

“And yet, you act as though she’s already yours.” His head tilts, eerily precise. “Like you have some unspoken claim on her.”

Sebastian’s laughter is sharp, humorless. “Oh, I’m sorry—am I supposed to sit back and watch while you play the noble, brooding protector? While you pretend you aren’t thinking the same damn things I am?” He steps closer, pressing up against your hand. “At least I’m honest about it.”

“This isn’t a competition,” you snap, your voice cutting through the rising tension. “I’m not—”

But Ominis speaks over you, his voice razor-sharp. “Honest?” He laughs, a brittle, scathing sound. “You think she doesn’t see through you, Sebastian? That she doesn’t know how you manipulate everyone around you when you don’t get your way?”

Sebastian’s eyes darken. “And what about you? Hm? You stand there, acting like you have some moral high ground, pretending you’re her protector, her friend—but you’re nothing more than a coward. At least I have the nerve to fight for what I want.”

Ominis’ lips curl, but there’s something restrained in his stance, something barely held back. His next words come slow, deliberate. “No, Sebastian. You don’t fight for what you want. You take. You push. And you never think about the consequences.”

Sebastian scoffs, stepping even closer, his breath warm against your skin as he looms just inches from Ominis now. “You’re so full of shit.”

Ominis doesn’t flinch, but you feel it—the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his throat bobs, the sharp intake of breath like he’s fighting to hold something down.

“Tell me,” Ominis says suddenly, turning toward you. His voice isn’t cruel, but it’s raw, pained. “Are you just going to stand there and

let him decide everything for you? Let him pull you into whatever game he’s playing?” His head tilts, the weight of his words pressing into you, sharp and insistent. “Or do you have something to say?”

Sebastian’s hand twitches at his side. “Don’t put this on her.”

“I’m not putting anything on her,” Ominis counters, voice low, controlled—but there’s something beneath it, something breaking. “I’m giving her the chance to speak for herself. Which is more than you’ve ever done.”

The air is thick with tension, suffocating. Your heart pounds against your ribs, loud enough that you swear they must hear it, too. Your mouth feels dry, your fingers curled into fists at your sides as their gazes burn into you from both angles.

And the truth is—you don’t know what to say.

Because every word you could give them feels like a betrayal to one of them. Every choice, every step, every breath feels like tipping the scales in a way you can’t undo.

Sebastian’s eyes are locked onto yours now, something desperate, something pleading flickering behind the frustration in his gaze. “Just tell him,” he murmurs, voice softer now, edged with something dangerously close to vulnerability. “Tell him that you—”

“Don’t,” Ominis interrupts, and his expression is unreadable, his hands trembling just slightly at his sides. “Don’t try to put words in her mouth.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of both of them, the history, the heartbreak that you haven’t even let yourself acknowledge until now. This is it. The moment where everything shatters.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

It’s barely a sound, but it’s enough.

Sebastian’s face falls, just slightly, just enough for you to see the hurt flash through his features before he masks it behind a clenched jaw. Ominis exhales sharply, sounding almost relieved, before he schools his expression into something carefully composed. His shoulders loosen, and there’s the briefest flicker of something in his posture—hope, maybe, or something close to it.

Before you can speak, Sebastian brushes past you, his hand shooting out to grip the front of Ominis’s shirt.

“Don’t look so fucking smug,” Sebastian snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “She hasn’t said anything yet.”

Ominis doesn’t flinch. He stands his ground, lips pressed together in a thin, unreadable line. His hands remain at his sides, but you see the faintest tremor in his fingers. His voice, however, is steady when he replies.

“Does it scare you, Sebastian?” he murmurs, his head tilting just slightly. “The idea that, maybe, for once, you’re not the only one who matters?”

Sebastian’s grip tightens on Ominis’s shirt, and for a moment, neither of them moves. The air is taut, stretched thin like a wire about to snap. Ominis is taller, his presence sharp and imposing, but Sebastian is the one with strength on his side, his stance coiled tight like a drawn bowstring.

“Say that again,” Sebastian growls, his voice dropping even lower, roughened by barely restrained fury.

Ominis doesn’t hesitate. “You heard me.”

And then, to your horror, Ominis reaches for Sebastian’s shirt in return. His fingers, slender but firm, curl into the fabric, mirroring the grip Sebastian has on him. It’s not quite a shove, but the tension between them spikes, raw and volatile. Your breath catches, panic clawing at your chest.

“Ominis,” you breathe, stepping forward, but neither of them acknowledges you.

Sebastian’s fingers flex against Ominis’s collar, his jaw locked tight. “You think this is about me?” he spits. “You think I don’t care what she wants?”

“Do you?” Ominis presses. His grip tightens. “Because all I’ve ever seen you do is pull and pull and pull until she’s too caught up in your orbit to break free.”

Sebastian’s whole body goes rigid, like Ominis just landed a direct hit where it hurts most. You see it in his expression—that flicker of something deep and wounded before it twists into anger.

“She’s not yours to defend, Ominis,” Sebastian bites out, voice shaking with barely contained frustration. “And she’s sure as hell not yours to decide for.”

“And yet, here you are,” Ominis returns, unyielding. “Acting like the only person who gets to have a say is you.”

The muscles in Sebastian’s arms flex, his fingers trembling against the fabric of Ominis’s shirt, as though he’s on the verge of pushing, of shoving, of—

“Stop it!”

Your voice cuts through the space between them, raw and desperate.

They freeze.

The silence that follows is deafening.

You take a step back, breath shuddering, hands curling into fists at your sides. You feel the heat rising up your throat, the sharp sting of frustration prickling behind your eyes.

"You—" Your voice shakes with something raw, something close to fury. "Do either of you even hear yourselves right now?"

Sebastian's gaze snaps to you, still burning with frustration, but something else flickers beneath it—something hesitant.

Ominis’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

"You’re both acting like children," you spit, your voice rising. "Like this is some petty fight over who gets the last fucking piece of cake instead of a real, human person standing right in front of you!"

Sebastian tenses. "That’s not—"

"Don’t," you snap, cutting him off, chest heaving. "Don’t you dare try telling me this isn’t exactly what it looks like. Like I haven’t just stood here and listened to you two rip each other apart over me."

You shake your head, anger curling hot in your chest, almost unbearable. "Neither of you are fucking listening. Neither of you are stopping for one second to actually ask me what I want. You’re both just deciding, making assumptions, thinking you know what’s best, thinking you have any right to—"

Your voice catches, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

"Did it ever occur to you—either of you—that if you wanted to know how I felt, you could have just asked?! And if you had, then you'd know—" You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You'd know I can't choose!"

The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel the weight of them settle into the space between you. You don't even know if you mean won’t or can’t. You just know it’s the truth, and you want them to hear it, to feel it, to finally understand the weight they’ve been forcing you to carry.

Sebastian’s mouth opens, but you cut him off before he can even start.

"Because if you had asked," Your voice wavers, and you hate it, hate the way your throat tightens, the way tears burn at the edges of your vision. "You’d know that every time I’m with one of you, I feel like I’m hurting the other. That my heart is breaking constantly because I see it, I see the way it destroys you both. And I don’t know how to fix it."

Your breath is unsteady, fists clenching at your sides. "You think this is easy for me? That I like feeling like I’m being torn in two? Like no matter what I do, I’m going to end up hurting someone I love?"

You shake your head, feeling heat creep up your neck, anger and grief colliding in a whirlwind you can’t stop. "I am so tired. Tired of feeling guilty just for existing in the space between you. Tired of knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough for either of you because you both want me to be something I can’t be!"

The silence is suffocating, but you don’t stop.

"You think he pulls me into his orbit?" you snap at Ominis, eyes blazing. "Then what the hell do you think you do? You sit there, self-righteous and brooding, waiting for me to prove something to you, like I have to earn your permission to exist between the two of you!"

Ominis swallows hard, and for finally, his composure cracks.

"And you," you turn on Sebastian, breathing hard. "You think he’s the only one who makes decisions for me? You do it all the time. You assume what I want, what I need, what I’m thinking, and you don’t even ask before making a choice for me!"

Sebastian’s expression shatters, his hands flexing like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t dare.

You take a step back, throat thick with everything you’ve held inside for too long. "You both act like you know what’s best for me. But you never once stopped to listen—to really listen—to me."

The words hang heavy between you, and in their silence, you finally hear it. The sound of your own breaking heart.

You exhale shakily, swallowing hard before whispering, "I love you both."

Sebastian lets out a quiet, almost pained breath. Ominis turns his face slightly away, as if the words physically struck him.

"And I hate it," you continue, voice barely above a whisper. "I hate that it’s not enough. That no matter how much I love you both, it's destined to end like this. With fighting. With pain. With one of you walking away while the other pretends they’ve won something."

A pause. A silence so thick it almost drowns you.

And then you take another step back.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Sebastian inhales sharply. Ominis’s hands twitch.

You shake your head one last time, voice hoarse, empty. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t put me in this position at all."

With that, you turn and walk away.

[soleilapproves]

I loved what you did with Kento seeing y/n in a backless dress.🌷😭🩷 Could you possibly do something similar with Gyomei from demon slayer if you write for that fandom? He’s blind so he won’t be able to see the dress but I was thinking when he embraces y/n in a hug he could tell how the dress hugs all her curves and maybe he gets a little turned on? 🫣🤭🥹🌷

Thank you so much 🫶 I haven’t watched a lot of demon slayer but I’m definitely open to writing new characters. I hope I got his personality down correctly.

Notes: Modern!AU, fem!reader AFAB, Gyomei has a cane to assist him. Lightly (like feather) hinted at not being with a woman before you. Not proofread yet, sorry :( ,suggestive

Date nights were your favorite because it was one of the many times you had your busy boyfriend all to yourself. For once, the two of you were going out after weeks of not having enough free time together. Which is funny because the relationship hasn’t even gotten into the ‘using the bathroom while my partner showers’ territory yet.

Either way, you were in complete bliss as you spritzed your perfume. A finishing touch to your look for tonight that concluded of a lovely full sleeved backless dress with heels of the matching color. Simple yet sensual.

You heard your apartment lock beep and a shuffling of foot steps along with the slight rattles of metal. Gyomei was here. Since it had been a while since you had last seen him, you decided to cheekily surprise him with a back hug sneak attack.

You removed your heels and tiptoed out of your room to see him before he could let you know that he had arrived. However, you stood still for a few seconds, taking in how handsome he looked.

Sure, you found him attractive no matter what but he looked especially delicious today with his hair styled and his outfit fitting him in all the right places.

You crossed your hands and silently thanked your lucky stars for sending him your way before approaching him.

He turned towards the sound of your feet shuffling and had a blinding smile on his face as a response.

You sulked at the fact that he had noticed you before you could hug him. “Ugh, I wanted to catch you off guard for once.”

“I think you’re forgetting that my other senses are heightened since I’m blind.” He cheekily replied. Having a good sense of navigation around your apartment, he leaned himself against your kitchen counter, retracting his mobility cane in the process.

“Do you want anything to eat before we leave? I can pack some crackers for our drive to the restaurant since it’s kinda far.” You said as you began to look through your snack cabinet for some more light snacks.

“I’m alright. However, I would like a glass of water before we head out.”

“You got it.” You filled up his designated mug that said ‘hottest DILF on earth’ in braille on it. A small gag gift that you gave him on his birthday. You couldn’t stop laughing at his reaction when you told him about the meaning of DILF.

You hand him the mug and ignore the butterflies in your stomach when his large hands purposely engulf yours when grabbing the cup.

“Okay, all I need are my shoes and then we’ll be off.” But before you can leave, your boyfriend is quick to grab your arm and put his mug down on the counter.

He pulled you into his hold, hands resting dangerously low on your waist but not high enough to be on your back.

“Before you leave, I’d like to tell you that you smell divine.” He shyly says as he leans his forehead against yours.

Your face burned as you placed your hands on his firm biceps and rubbed them up and down. “You say that for every perfume I wear.”

“Yeah, but this one’s my favorite favorite.” You giggled at your boyfriend before lightly smacking his chest. You missed so much during your time apart from him and you were going to take complete advantage of him now that you were together.

You slowly moved your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, then neck, and finally his face to make him lean further to you. Signaling that you wanted to kiss him.

Gyomei let out a small hum of approval before pressing his lips to yours. It felt like kissing him for the first time again. Like when you both first reciprocated your feelings to each other.

Lips tantalizingly pulling against one another. Molding and melding to relay just how much love the two of you had for each other. His hands slowly trailed up your back, finally reaching the exposed skin just a few inches above the small of your back. He turned you around so your back could rest on the counter instead of his and he pressed his body completely against yours.

“It’s a good thing your dress is unzipped.” Gyomei chuckled between kisses.

“It’s not. It’s backless.”

He stops kissing you. Instead, his hands roam around the expanse of your back. “This is the first I’ve heard of something like this.”

You let out a small smile, letting him quench his thirst of curiosity. “Yes, a lot of people wear these kind of clothes for special occasions.”

It touched his heart to hear you say that. It made him feel a little insecure that he couldn’t compliment you on the effort you made to look good for him but it helped knowing that you never stopped doing it.

He was glad that his presence made you want to dress up and feel pretty.

He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time with his fingers trailing down your spine, enjoying the familiar feeling of your skin. “I love the way your skin feels.”

The fingers from his right hand then began to dance around your zipper while his left hand continued to stroke your spine.

“Honey, if you keep this up we’ll never make it to the restaurant.” You mumbled as his mouth trailed moist kisses down your neck. He deeply inhaled when he reached the base of your throat, relishing the scent of the perfume.

“I’m going to be honest with you, the reservation is the last thing on my mind right now.” He mumbled while moving his left hand to hold you right beneath your right breast. You gasped as his grip gradually tightened with every kiss he left around your décolletage.

“I say we order in and do something I’ve been waiting to do all these weeks.” He continued as his hips began to grind to yours.

-

Dry spell so bad I had to watch kissing scenes to get inspo.

[ashomodeus]

Here's some angst that I also had fear of posting

Thank you, Beyonce, for keeping me awake.

MC was magically picked for the exchange program unwillingly. They peaked everyone’s interest until randomly the brothers seemed to no longer care. This kind of hurt MC. This is how each brother acts:

Lucifer

Of course, he wouldn’t really show utter dislike, but MC reminds him so much of Lilith. His heart aches to even think about her.

Drabble

MC bumps into Lucifer running to class. They quickly picked up their things.

“Watch where you’re going” He scoffed. Looking down at MC.

“I’m sorry-“MC was cut off by Lucifer shaking his head. MC had enough. MC dragged Lucifer to the nearest room Lucifer was in shock with the sudden grab that he turned into his demon form.

“MC.” Lucifer demanded.

“No kill me I don’t care, why are you so mean to me?” MC stood up straight trying to seem calm.

“Nothing. Maybe because you act like you run this place” Lucifer said trying to avoid the actual problem.

“I haven’t been here that long and you treat me like nothing I get you’re the avatar of pride but get off your high horse.” MC said getting upset.

Lucifer stepped in front of MC and was about to attack when he got a sudden flashback of the day Lilith passed. The avatar of pride could no longer handle the pain he broke down, right there in front of MC.

“Lucifer?” MC questioned

Mammon

Mammon has always treated MC as an inconvenience to him. Eventually the words began to stick and sting and come true.

Drabble

“Mammon make sure to watch over MC today. We want to make sure our exchange student stays in one piece.” Lucifer ordered Mammon.

“Ugh why do I have too?” Mammon groaned.

“Because you value your life” Lucifer threatened.

“Whatever.” Mammon walked to MC’s room and banged on their door. MC walked out the door not realizing who it was.

“Hey Mammon what are you-“MC was cut off by a very annoyed Mammon.

“I’m forced to babysit you today; I could be doing so many other things but you’re too weak and pathetic to be alone.” Mammon spat out. That last part stuck to MC. It burned just like the tears threatening to escape their eyes. They understood that they were taking up Mammon’s time but why did he have to be so harsh. He was nice before. What happened?

Levi

Man MC this MC that he was sick of it. Why does he have to care, wait he doesn’t. Levi continuously ignored MC.

Drabble

“Hey Levi- “MC was cut off by him turning up his game louder. MC tried to speak louder but it never got through to him.

“Levi...” MC’s voice got lower. Their heart began to sink. The only demon they wanted to talk to, who was like them ignoring them.

“MC” Levi spoke. MC raised their head quickly hoping they would be acknowledged. “You’re in the way, can you move” They sighed. It appears every word Levi said ripped deeper and deeper into MC’s heart.

“Okay” They moved out the way and Levi walked away. Part of them wants to stop him the other part knows they should let him go but one part managed to win.

“Levi wait-“MC touched Levi’s shoulder touching him.

“Don’t touch me. You literally swooped in here and suddenly everyone likes you. Of course, no one would like a yucky otaku but it’s not fair you were no one just a few months ago. I refuse to give you undeserved attention” Levi snapped. MC stood in shock. Those words felt like a thousand knives to the heart.

“Levi... I liked you.” MC ran off after saying that statement.

Satan

A random human has more freedom than Satan has ever had. The idea didn’t sit right with him. MC has stories worth lifetimes and yet he could only dream of living life like that.

Drabble

“I feel like I haven’t experienced much at all compared to any of you” MC laughed. They were all sharing and discussing old stories.

“Yeah, it’s so hard to have so much freedom. I couldn’t imagine it.” Satan said sarcastically. MC just laughed assuming it was a joke.

“Anyways MC tell us more about you.” Asmo stared at MC.

“Well i’m not that interesting.” MC laughed. This ticked something off in Satan.

“Don’t be so modest, you know if I didn’t have a care in the world I would have so many stories to share.” Satan spat out.

“Satan Chill” Mammon said.

“No oh humble MC tell us more about your ‘boring life’ tell us how you’ve had so much freedom.” Satan continued.

“I- have to go-“ MC got up and ran away. They refused to let anyone see them cry. Satan calmed down and smiled to himself.

“What is wrong with ya, they did nothin wrong and you’re treating em like shit” Mammon was angry. Satan just shrugged.

Deep down that image of MC running away crying will haunt him forever. He didn’t mean to be so harsh. He was just upset that Satan has had to live in the shadows of Lucifer. Satans heart rate slowed he felt so weak at that very moment. If only he knew how MC felt.

Asmo

One day? One day that’s all it took? It took one day for MC to be accepted by his brothers meanwhile he still gets ridiculed. It actually crushes his confidence to be around MC.

Drabble

It was the middle of dinner, and everyone was sharing what happened during the day. It was MC’s turn to cook dinner.

“At least you could be concerned with your looks and actually be smart” Levi jokes to MC. That was an extreme low blow. Asmo furrowed his brows.

“Have that same energy when you want your nails painted” Asmo laughed to himself.

“MC will do it right?” Levi asked.

“Yeah” MC smiled.

“Yeah, because they’re so steady. It explains so much You know like almost dying multiple times already. Failing a few test-“Asmo was cut off by Lucifer clearing his throat.

“Don’t ya think ya had enough today, wouldn’t want ya to ruin that ‘perfect figure’.” Mammon laughed. Asmo sighed.

“Things we’re a lot better when MC didn’t even exist in our minds” Asmo walked away from the table and locked himself in his room.

“Fuck MC they have literally made life the worst ever since they got here. My brothers literally trash on me everyday calling me names and I’m the dramatic one. I liked it better when they weren’t here.” Asmo began to cry. “Crying will only make you ugly he sighed an wiped his eyes. Asmo needed to get his towels for a bath he walked out the room and notice MC was standing there.

“Get out of my face human. You might be here but you no longer exist to me.” Asmo walked away to go get his towels.

MC stood there in shock. The sudden harshness of his words hurt them. ‘Maybe things were better without me’ MC frowned a bit. It hurt them to see Asmo like this. They decided to walk into his room and wait for him to come back.

Beel

MC was pretty cool at first to Beel but he didn’t understand why everyone was obsessed with them. It’s not like he didn’t like them he just confused. Beel isn’t good with his words so he comes off as mean to MC.

Drabble

“Hey guess what Beel MC is giving out free massages. They are so great with their hands, I wonder what else they can do.” Asmo giggled. MC hit Asmo on the back of his head. Beel almost got up to intervene but noticed the two were laughing.

“No thanks” Beel stared at MC. He wasn’t used to people playfully hitting each other besides his own brothers. He couldn’t understand how they could trust a human so quick. MC didn’t think much of Beel declining the offer but MC noticed how ready he was to attack for his siblings. MC admired this about him but it hurt realizing he doesn’t trust them.

Beel is so sweet but It hurt MC that he couldn’t trust them.

MC chased after Beel to question him.

“Yes MC?” Beel stopped hearing MC’s foot steps.

“Well- um I- was wondering why don’t you trust me, I’m just a human.” MC said shyly.

“Well my dad was just my dad until he sent us here” Beel said with no emotion. “Why should I trust you, like you said you’re human, I don’t know what humans are capable of.”

Those words hit MC like a truck. Will MC ever be able to crack that shell of Beel’s.

“Oh” MC frowned a bit.

“I just don’t trust you” Beel said.

That hurt MC a lot more than expected.

“Sorry for bothering you...” MC sighed and walked away.

Belphie

Every time he look at them he think of Lilith. Every laugh every smile every time they comfort someone he sees Lilith. Talking to them hurts so he chooses not to.

Drabble

Belphie wakes up from another nightmare. She could’ve survived it should’ve been me instead of her. Belphie sighed and stared at the ceiling. Then he heard a laugh out of his room. He could almost imagine Lilith next to him. This thought made his heart turn rotten. He got up and opened his door.

“Can you shut up, i’m trying to sleep. I don’t need to hear your cackling from my room. I don’t want it in my nightmares.” Belphie shouted, poison lacing each word.

“I’m sorry Belphie. I really hope you sleep well.” MC smiled at Belphie. They tried to be nice even though the words still stung.

“Whatever go waste your useless time elsewhere.” Belphie rolled his eyes and slammed the door on their face. MC was about to knock on the door but they looked down. They could tell Belphie just didn’t like them no matter how nice they were. They just wanted to ask Belphie what’s wrong. Something else was bothering them but they don’t know what. They sat at the door.

“Please Belphie open up, literally and metaphorically” MC sighed.

[belovedmusings]

Your Cult Leader

18+ Explicit Smut 🚫minors DNI🚫

Cult leader! music producer! Geto x AFAB! popstar! reader loosely inspired by The Idol (just the dynamic between the two, but in this AU Suguru’s not a psycho POS like the guy is in the show, so no gross themes) where they have sex in the studio.

Relevant tags: light dirty talk, oral sex (AFAB! reader receiving) penetrative sex, missionary/mating press, established relationship of sorts (not together but not not together either…you have a situationship with a hot, rich, talented producer/cult leader Suguru so), he uses the term of endearment “love” once, addresses you without the use of “y/n”

Recommended music while reading: One Of The Girls (The Weeknd, Jennie, Lily Rose Depp), A Lesser Man (The Weeknd), and Double Fantasy (The Weeknd, Future)

Read below cut:

“Ugh,” you groan in frustration, hitting the spacebar on the keyboard in front of you to pause the track. Beside you, Suguru shifts to lean on his knuckles, looking at you curiously.

“Hmm? What’s the matter?”

“It’s not sounding right,” you answer, “Something’s off but I can’t quite place it.”

“Mmm,” he hums, sucking in a breath. “Well, you have been at it like this since after lunch. It’s almost midnight now. You haven’t even eaten yet. Maybe you should take a break.”

“No,” you shake your head, “It’s right there, I just…”

Suguru’s hand slides over yours, thumb gently running over your knuckles. “We talked about you overworking yourself. It isn’t good for you or your creativity.”

You look at him and frown. “Suguru, I know you want me to take better care of myself, but—”

“Your body is your temple,” he interrupts you, pushing his chair closer to yours so that they touch. “Didn’t I teach you that? You need to treat it as if it was sacred. It is sacred. Starving yourself and working off of fumes is only going to drive you to burnout.”

His dark eyes hold yours, and that familiar flutter inside your stomach starts up again—Suguru is a beautiful man, and you thought so the minute you met him at that party for your friend’s album release a few months ago. Right now, under the dim, warm lighting of the studio’s LED lights, he looks just as mesmerizing.

His long, dark hair falls in layered tendrils down his shoulders, beside his gauges, framing his face perfectly, making for the perfect precursor for his gentle eyes, perfectly centered nose, and soft lips. His black shirt lays over his muscular chest unbuttoned at the top to show off his collarbones, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked into his black slacks, held up by an expensive belt. As always, he just exudes power. It drives a thrill through you that only he is capable of producing.

“Did I lose you in there?” He asks with an amused smile, bringing you back to yourself. You avert your eyes, shaking your head.

“Sorry. Got distracted.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think I have a way to solve all of your problems.”

You return your gaze to his face just as he moves his touch down to your thigh, bare due to the shorts you elected to wear this morning. His hand is hot, spreading tingles up your spine like he’s firing off every single one of your nerves on purpose.

“What is it?”

“I’ve talked about it before,” he begins, “But creativity comes from the Sacral chakra. You know where it is, right?”

You draw in a breath, starting to realize where he’s going with this. You two have talked about Suguru’s unique beliefs before. He draws from many different religions and philosophies to create what he calls ‘the one true religion’, one he insists would solve all world conflict if everyone just subscribed to it. So far, everything he’s said makes sense to you.

The human body is, as he said, a temple for the soul, a special sort of energy taken from a piece of the Universe so that it can experience itself. There’s a lot of things he’s said, but right now, the important thing is that he believes bodies have energy points where different types of energy can interact with a human and either take away or give to their soul if activated. These energy points are chakra points, taken from Hinduism and Buddhism, the latter being one of Suguru’s favorite philosophies due to how ‘true’ it is.

You remember he said there are seven chakra points. The one for creativity is…

He moves his hand up your thigh slowly, causing you to breathe deeply, palm slinking up your hip to your abdomen just below your navel.

“Right here,” he tells you. “The sacral chakra is the energy point for both creativity and sexual pleasure. Do you know why that is?”

You blink. He had just explained what they are, but not why or how they’re connected. “No. Not exactly.”

“This is where your womb is,” he explains. “You create there, don’t you? If you were to accept someone’s seed, you’d create life. That’s why it’s both.”

You breathe out, starting to feel a little warm. “That…that makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” He agrees with a smile. “Now. You’re having trouble figuring out how to create this song, right? What we need to do is stimulate it.”

Ah, you think. That’s his point. You look at him, taking in the relaxed glint of lust in his eyes, and decide to play along. “How do we stimulate the womb?”

“Well, sacral chakra is all things pertaining to sexual pleasure. So if I make you feel good, I’m activating it.”

You nod, biting on the nail of your thumb. “Well…I have no creativity right now. So do your worst.”

A grin spreads across his lips. “My worst? Are you sure?”

Sex with Suguru is always a wild card. You never know what you’re going to get with him. Sometimes he’s sweet and slow, praising you like you’re his personal divine deity, and sometimes he’s railing you within an inch of your life, bent over the nearest surface, filth spilling from his lips.

“Or your best. Whichever you prefer,” you reply, subtly challenging him to take his pick, to chose how to make you fall apart. The control is his to have.

“Mmm,” he smirks. “I like the sound of that.”

Faster than you can comprehend, he’s out of his seat and grabbing you by the hips, hoisting you up and onto the coffee table where your manager and other producers sit during the day, right behind the mixing table.

He has your shorts off in record time, tossed to the floor unimportantly, and his right hand goes right for the apex of your thighs, rubbing his thumb over your underwear-clad sensitive center in teasingly gentle strokes.

You feel every time his nail grazes that spot, the pearl he seems to know how to work as if only he was given the manual to it.

“Suguru,” you breathe, leaning up on your elbows to see him. He smiles softly at you, lazy gaze fixed on your face.

“Relax,” He tells you, “Just focus on my touches.”

You listen, letting yourself lay back all the way. You even close your eyes, hearing him shuffle, keeping his hand on you. It only moves when it hooks at the fabric and pushes it out of the way.

Exposed to the air abruptly, you gasp quietly, but that gets replaced by an even louder gasp as a hot, wet tongue slides right over the neediest part of you.

“Suguru,” you exhale, biting your lip as he does it again, hands bracing your hips to keep you still.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, hot breath fanning over your pelvis. “And you taste good, too.”

Your face gets hot. “Don’t stare. It’s embarrassing.”

“Like I said,” he replies, wetly kissing your mound. “Your body is a temple. And I intend to worship it.”

His face is buried in you in the next instance, licking a fat stripe over you before flicking his tongue rapidly, stimulating all of your nerves at once.

“Suguru,” you gasp. “Oh fuck…”

He slurps lewdly, groaning, swirling his tongue in the way he knows drives you insane.

“Suguru,” you mewl again, arching up. He sucks intently, right hand moving down the inside of your thigh to where wetness has been pooling since he started touching you.

When his finger prods at your folds, you flinch, sensitive to the touch, and he becomes more bold, slipping two inside at once.

“Ah,” you moan loudly, pushing your hips down on his hand. His fingers are long and thick inside of you, curling up and fucking at a focused, teasing pace.

“We should record your sounds,” he states, “I’d use them in a track. Hmm…but then I’d get jealous when other people hear them.”

He adds a third finger, wrapping his lips around your pearl and running his tongue up and down, pulling another ragged moan from your throat.

“You’re mine,” He continues in a pant, coming up for air. “All mine. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation. This man is all you could ever need. No one else could satisfy you like he can.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, rewarding your loyalty by flicking his tongue again, causing you to tighten around him. He fucks his fingers harder, getting excess slick on the table. You grind down, feeling that coil wind tighter and tighter in your core.

When he flattens his tongue and flutters it over your mound at the same time he curls his fingers up, you’re done for, orgasm hitting you in a dizzying wave of pleasure.

“Suguru, Suguru,” you drawl out, hands threading in his hair as he kisses your puffy apex through the bliss. When he lifts his head, his mouth is covered in your essence, and he looks impossibly fucking hot.

“How do you feel?” He asks, “Feeling inspired yet?”

You blink. Inspired? Who the hell knows. You’re horny as hell and you want this gorgeous man to fuck you so hard you see stars, being one be damned.

“I still feel stuck.”

He feigns a pout of sympathy, raising himself up on his knees.

“We can't have that, now can we?” He asks you, and now that he’s kneeling on his knees, you can see his body clearly. Your eyes draw onto the obvious, big bulge under his belt buckle, and heat surges through you. You want that. Now.

“I need more inspiration.”

He grins, standing up and scooping you up into his arms, stepping around the coffee table to lay you out on the leather sofa behind it. He pulls the waistband of your underwear down your legs, letting them fall to the floor.

You then watch as he undoes his belt, hands working at the buckle expertly to unlatch it. He then pulls it open, not bothering to take it off before he undoes his buttons and zipper, pushing his boxers down far enough to let himself spring free.

The sight of his red, hard cock never ceases to fan the flames of your fire for him, no reservations in your heart as he kneels on the cushion, getting between your willingly spread legs.

He smiles down at you and grabs his member, guiding it to rub against your dripping folds.

“Mmh,” you breathe, grinding against him needily.

“This way, I can transfer some of my creativity to you,” He says, “How does that sound?”

Anything to make him enter you.

You nod, reaching up and grabbing his firm biceps through his shirt.

“Please, Suguru,” you say, “Need it.”

And you don’t mean the creativity.

The man above you grins, letting his tip catch on your entrance and pushing in without hesitation.

He sinks in slowly, letting you feel the stretch of his thick girth, the heat of his bare cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” you curse, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“So tight,” he murmurs, pulling back and thrusting back in languidly, doing it again a few times to get you used to him, a dull ache seating inside you at the sensation. The fact that it hurts a little bit makes your heart beat faster, and you angle your hips up, desperate to give him better access.

He huffs an amused laugh, putting more energy into his movements and speeding up.

“Ah,” you gasp, nails digging into his arms. “Yes, Suguru…”

“Does that feel good?” He asks, slightly winded, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“So good,” is your response, one of your hands running up the expanse of his shoulder to his neck, up to cup his jaw. He leans into the touch, even turning his head to kiss your palm. It causes you to flutter around him, and he groans at the feeling, picking up his pace even more.

You pull your knees back more towards your chest as best as you can without your hands to help, making room for him to go deeper. It causes his tip to push against your cervix, and it pulls a high-pitched gasp from you.

“That’s it,” he pants, leaning down over you, sliding his hands underneath your arms to grip your shoulders, balancing on his elbows to drive harder into you, hitting that spot every single time he pushes in. “Oh, fuck yes…”

It’s breathy, and the knowledge that you are the one making him lose his composure heightens your euphoria. You look up into his eyes, which are only a few inches from yours now.

He gives you a loose smile. “Getting inspiration?”

You laugh despite yourself. “Yeah…fuck yeah I am…”

“Good,” he grins, “Never hurts to give more, does it?”

You wonder what he means for a mere moment before he stops thrusting for a moment to hike your legs up, hooking your knees on his shoulders and then leaning back down to grab your waist, effectively bending you in half.

“Shit,” you hiss, eyes widening when he starts a grueling pace up. “Suguru!”

“Fuck,” he curses, the slap of your wet skin meeting over and over again bouncing off the sound-treated walls along with your mixed pants to make a song only the two of you can create together.

His dark hair hangs down over your face, hot breaths hitting your skin rhythmically, and he lowers himself fully to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth to claim you in yet another way. Your eyes shut to enjoy the sensation of two parts of him inside you, kissing back greedily, fisting your hands in his hair.

He groans lowly when you pull, knowing he likes it, putting more vigor into the way he kisses you, almost like he’s trying to devour your soul.

His hips keep slamming against yours, walls sore with the exertion of having been pushed to the limits. He’s relentless and you think about how you’ll feel him there even tomorrow, and what a welcome thought that is.

You pull harder on his hair and he responds by biting your bottom lip, feeding you a winded groan. The primal scent of your kiss buzzes around in your senses, melding with his heady jasmine cologne, concocting your own personal brand of heroin. You feel him everywhere, and the weight of his firm body covering yours is something you could never recreate without him.

You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t notice his thrusts starting to turn erratic until he breaks the kiss to gasp for air.

“You feel so good,” he pants, “Now I’m inspired.”

That does something to you. This man, who is always at the top of the charts, collaborating with A-list artist after A-list artist is inspired by you, by the sex that you’re giving him. It inflates your ego to a staggering point and you brush his bangs from his eyes, looking deeply into them. A warm feeling spreads through your chest, that familiar danger zone when you’re around Suguru for too long coming into sight once again.

You know he’s off-limits. Between balancing the group he’s leading and his full-time job as a producer, he’s busier than any other man you know, and you aren’t naive enough to delude yourself into thinking he reserves himself solely for you.

He’s a gorgeous man. He’s talented, charismatic, and as a result he has people worshiping the ground he walks on. He can have anyone and everyone he wants, and as a man as powerful as he is, who would he be not to indulge himself? He’s a god among men, and you’ve resigned yourself to being one of his earthly concubines with the self-assurance that you’re among his favorites.

He spends a majority of his free time with you, and when he’s busy he calls when he can. He texts you to ask how you are, makes sure that you stay out of trouble, and he protects you from slimy industry heads ready to take advantage of you. You go to his penthouse so much you’ve started leaving clothes and belongings there, but you know he could switch up at any moment, so you refuse to acknowledge what is trying to burrow its way into your heart when you look at him.

Except, when he smiles so charmingly at you like he is, pupils blown and lips kissed swollen, it’s so hard not to fall for him.

His eyes slide shut and his brows furrow, sucking his lip between his teeth as he concentrates his thrusts to hit that one spot inside of you that has you seeing the cosmos.

“Ah!” You cry, “Suguru, Suguru…”

The pleasure undulates up your body like electric currents, making you over-sensitive. You can feel his big hands holding your waist so tightly you know it’ll bruise, yet another future reminder he was on top of you.

“That’s it,” he praises, “Come on, I know you’re close, love.”

Love.

Your eyes snap open again and he’s back to watching your face with a gentle expression. You want to say something but find your words robbed, an intensifying heat building and building deep at your center.

“Suguru,” you gasp, hands grappling at his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh there for purchase. It won’t stop, your climax approaching faster and faster, and he doubles down on his thrusts, aiming his cock so precisely you think for a moment you might die of pleasure. “Suguru…”

“You’re right there,” he urges, warm baritones lighting you up from the inside, “Come on, come on, show me how good it is…”

It hits you more abruptly than you’re prepared for. Your entire body tenses up and you throw your head back, arching up as you shout his name desperately, “Suguru! Oh my god, Suguru, Suguru…”

You tighten on him and gush around his length, the sensations faltering his pace, and he moans loudly above you, hips stuttering. Then you feel it. A ticklish, warm sensation inside of you, his release spilling right against your cervix as he presses as far as he can go.

“Fuck,” he groans brokenly, rolling his hips languid against yours, burying his nose in your neck and leaving sloppy kisses there. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, relishing in the sensation of him in and all around you. He’s never finished inside you before—you’ve always had protection. Blearily, you wonder what it means that he has, but you don’t want to bring it up right now. It would just break through the veil of bliss you’re in, and you don’t want to leave it yet.

The two of you stay locked like that until the stiffness of your muscles starts making itself known, and he pushes himself off of you, pulling out carefully. You wince in sensitivity, and he rubs your thigh soothingly. His eyes fix on your entrance, thoroughly used and dripping with your mixed releases.

“Shit,” he breathes, “You look good like this…”

You feel your face heat up, legs closing now that he’s not between them anymore. “We need to clean up.”

He laughs softly, leaning over and grabbing some tissues from the coffee table.

“You’re right. I’ll get to it.”

He painstakingly takes care of you first, wiping up all of the fluids you two exchanged from your body and then the leather couch before taking care of himself, tossing the tissues into the trash can by the door. He bends down and grabs the underwear you had on from the floor, fixing them in his hold to slide you back into them.

“How do you feel?” He asks, sitting beside you as you slowly get to a seated position.

“Thoroughly fucked,” you reply bluntly, and he laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap. You curl into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. “But also…very inspired.”

“Yeah?” He asks, rubbing the outside of your leg gently. “Good.”

You want to stay in his arms for the rest of the night, but you are in the studio to work. So, you summon the willpower to get off of the couch, moving to go back to the desk when he pulls you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, a playful lilt to his voice.

“To work,” you answer, heart racing as he smiles at you.

“So soon? Let me hold you for a little while.”

You want to ask what it means that he wants to do that with you, but a larger, more prominent part of you wins out, and you don’t say a thing. Like this, you can imagine it means what you want it to, even if it doesn’t.

You settle back in his arms, burying your face into his neck and closing your eyes, content to let him cradle you in his big arms. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and your heart settles down as you relax.

He presses a kiss to your hair, and you decide that as long as you get to keep having this with him, whatever it is, you are content.

_ _ _

a/n: what's funny is that Suguru isn't even my main jjk guy, I just had a demon come over me and wrote this out.

edit: after I re-read i think i’m gonna make this a series bc i can see drama going down and i want to write it 😈

please do not repost or copy my work, but feel free to reblog and share. hope you enjoyed!

[obsolescent]

The Necessity of Saints - Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Um. I went in LMFAO. I literally had to cut myself off from writing anymore for this. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, multiple orgasms, protected sex, fingering, squirting, nipple play, cumming from nipple play, Simon is a gentle lover and always aiming to please, reader is touched-starved.

Word Count: 3,241

You let Simon know your availability, agreeing on a time–a date–something you haven’t been on in years. You’re filled with excitement, giddy at the prospect of dressing up and going out with someone, thinking of what all you two could do. Dinner, of course, maybe a movie? Oh! Maybe that carnival that’s in town for the week. You laugh to yourself, so many possibilities. So much anticipation bubbling, it has spilled over into your interactions with everyone around you.

“You’re chipper than usual, have anything going on?” A coworker asks. “Mama, you’re literally glowing, it’s so cute,” Your daughter says with a giggle, delighted to see you with a pep in your step this whole week. Friday night arrives, your excitement now mingling with nervousness. ‘Need something to wear, should I dress casually or should I be bold? Something slutty? Ugh, I don’t think I even have those types of clothes anymore.’ You don’t, you really don’t have much except for comfortable clothing now, some flowy dresses and skirts, and flats and sandals.

You pick out your fanciest dress. A long sleeved, empire cut, burnt orange dress with a sweetheart neckline. The length reaches mid calf, and you pair it with some comfortable, strappy flats. You fix your hair and makeup, looking sophisticated yet casual. ‘Probably the best for a first date.’ You and Simon spoke some more in regards to plans for that night, settling on a restaurant downtown to begin with. You agreed to meet there, not wanting him to know where you live just yet.

Your hands are sweaty as hell. You continue to wipe them off, pacing the living room while the time gets closer for you to leave. “O-M-G mama, relax! It’ll be fine. Just take some deep breaths and sit down,” Rhea says, having watched your anxious movements for the past ten minutes. “Ugh, I just…Don’t know what to do with myself,” You say, finding your way to sit next to her. She pats your shoulder, “Are you worried he won’t like the way you look? You look great, mama, I think he would think you’re pretty even if you showed up in a trash bag.” You guffaw, grinning at your daughter. She is a light in your life that you’re so glad to have, thankful for her reassuring words.

The clock reads 6:45 PM, fifteen minutes before your arranged time. “Reckon I better get going,” You let out a shaky breath, standing up and grabbing your purse. “Have a good time and have fun, love ya and be careful!” Rhea shouts from the couch as you’re opening the front door, “Love you, too!” You shout back, closing and locking the door. You get inside your car, backing out of the driveway and heading to the restaurant.

You arrive with five minutes to spare, giving yourself a pep talk. “If he doesn't like you, he can stick it! Go off on your own and treat yourself,” You say out loud, looking at your reflection in the visor’s mirror, making last minute adjustments to your look. You cut the engine and step out, locking the doors. Walking towards the entrance, you notice Simon standing off to the side, a bouquet in his hands, the other in his pocket. You’re internally screaming, face turning red at just seeing him with the flowers, in a black button up with matching slacks. 

He notices you approaching, giving you a smile, “Hello, love. Glad I didn’t scare you off,” He greets you, handing the bouquet over. A bushel of ranunculus, all varieties of color. “Thank you so much, these are beautiful,” You inhale their scent. “Could say the same about you, you look wonderful,” He says, his gaze following the contours of your body. You give a meek ‘thank you’ blush reaching the tips of your ears. “Shall we?” He asks, extending his arm for you to take. You nod, grabbing onto it, feeling him flex his muscles. ‘Good Lord he’s ripped.’ You both head inside, where the host seats you at a table in the corner, Simon taking the seat that faces out into the restaurant.

Light conversation begins, learning about one another. You find out that Simon is retired from the British military, which prompts you to ask why he’s here, of all places. “I like the liquor,” He says, causing you to laugh. Conversation carries on into dinner, your nerves far away from your thoughts, the wine Simon ordered helping to ease them. You’re honestly happy to have Simon’s company. He insists on paying for your meal, you opposing the whole time. ‘Let him treat you, he seems to really like doing it,’ The thought swimming through your mind. You bite your tongue, smiling and giving your thanks.

After the bill is paid, he escorts you out, once more offering his arm to you, which you gladly hang on to this time. You walk out into the crisp night air, feeling light and full of happiness. “Anything else you’re up for?” He asks, glancing down at you. You mention what you had been thinking about earlier, about the visiting carnival or a movie. He chuckles at your suggestions, “A movie sounds nice, yeah?” You nod, him leading you to his car. A sleek, black, Chevrolet Silverado is what he brings you to. Looking at it in astonishment, big and hefty. ‘Just like him.’ 

He helps you practically climb into the passenger side, settling in and buckling your seatbelt. He joins you on the other side, turning the ignition on and pausing, seeming almost nervous about what he’s going to say next. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be opposed to watching a movie at my flat?” He asks, shifting in his seat, using your wording from your first proposition. “No, no at all opposed,” You respond, replying with his past sentence. He looks over with a grin, “Alright, love,” Is said before he pulls out of the parking spot, in the direction of his apartment.

He gives his thanks, sitting down beside you. He picks up the remote and turns on his television, scrolling through the selections. You had mentioned liking the horror genre earlier, him also in agreement. He seemed to be checking out the movies in that category, noticing one you had been meaning to watch, but hadn’t gotten around to it. You express your interest in that film, before he selects it.

The movie begins, you settling against the cushions to immerse. Simon shifts a bit closer to you, before putting his arm on the back of the couch, the warmth radiating from him. You give a slight shiver, haven’t been this close to someone other than your daughter in a long time. He notices, grabbing a throw blanket near the end of the couch before draping it across your form. You turn red, not having the guts to tell him the real reason why you shivered. 

As the movie progresses, you steal glances at his profile. Blond hair effortlessly tousled, stubble adding a rugged look to him, his pronounced nose slightly crooked, likely due to it being broken before. He’s quite the looker, with a great personality to match. He looks over at you, catching you staring. Your gazes lock, looking deeply into his honeyed eyes. He smiles, before clearing his throat. “Would you like some bourbon?” You weren’t expecting that, but agree, him rising from his seat and making his way to a liquor cabinet, pouring you both a glass.

He hands you yours, taking a cautious sip. It goes down smoothly, warming your throat. You hum, thanking him, while he settles back into place. Immersing yourself once more, you don’t realize how much you’ve drank until the glass is empty. You set it down on the coffee table, the warmth now spreading throughout your body. He sets his down besides yours, having finished his own. His arm brushes your own as he sits back. You contemplate on asking him to cuddle, worrying your bottom lip. ‘It’s just cuddling,’ you think, inhaling through your nose, taking a deep breath. “Could we, uh, cuddle?” You ask, grimacing at how unsure it sounds. He raises an eyebrow, “Is that what you really want, love?” Your body buzzes at the pet name, but you squish it down, nodding your head. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Your body ignites at the sensation, nerve endings buzzing at his grip. ‘Bless your heart’ you say to yourself. It never occurred to you that you would be touch starved after all this time, but it’s made itself known. His cologne, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, his breath fanning out over your hair, small touches that feel so immense. You then notice the brush of his thumb, slightly rubbing at your waist. Heat surges downwards, like you’ve been set on fire. 

You don’t realize you’ve made a noise until you feel Simon tense up against you. “Everything alright? Do you want me to stop touching you?” He asks, beginning to pull away. “No!” You squeak out, face aflame. “It just…Feels really good? Ugh, sorry, you’re not even…I haven’t been touched in a long, long time. I didn’t know it would affect me like this,” You try to laugh it off, beginning to fidget under his gaze. He nods in understanding. “I’ve been like that as well, nothin’ to be bashful about,'' He says, shifting to face you, his firm grip steadfast.

“Y-yeah, I’m just more…Sensitive? Than I thought, I hope it isn’t bothering you,” You respond. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, large hands engulfing the side of your face. Your breath catches in your throat, frozen in place. “Not botherin’ me at all, love,” he mutters, studying your face. This close to him, you notice more details. Faint scars scattered across his face, likely due to his field of work. Feeling emboldened, you bring a hand to his face, tracing one that reaches from under one of his eyes to the top of his upper lip. He tenses again, watching your movements. 

Reaching his lips, you let your thumb graze across them, a huff of breath leaving Simon’s mouth, warming your finger. “Somethin’ you want, is there?” He whispers, pulling you closer. Liquid courage coursing through you, you ask, “Never got to properly thank you for your help at the store. Could I…?” You trail off, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does, but that open ended question isn’t the exact wording he’s looking for. “Could you what, love? You can ask for it, can’t you?” 

Needing words of consent, you take a deep breath. “May I kiss you?” He smirks. “There you are.” He allows you to close the distance. At first, you give a peck to his cheek, before pressing your lips against his. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, clutching at his shirt. Simon threads his fingers through your hair, sighing against you. 

Oh God. You want him so badly, a profound yearning within your gut blooms throughout your body. Feeling desperate, your hands comb through his locks, a firm grip on them. He grunts, before tugging on yours, causing a rather loud moan to slip from your mouth. “P-Please, Simon. I want you,” You plead, breaking away to kiss along his jaw. He hums, “Good girl, using your words,” He pets your hair, his hand trailing from your hair down your back, fingertips light across your spine, sending a shiver through you.

His hand finds its destination, firmly grabbing your ass. You gasp out, arching against him. “Touch starved, are we?” He asks, chuckling. You whimper, grasping at his forearms, close to getting on your hands and knees to beg him to keep going, please please don’t stop. “Been needin’ someone to take care of you, yeah? Allow me, sweet girl.” You feel like igniting at his words, his sweet talk adding fuel to the ever growing heat inside your body.

His hands reach towards your upper back, locating the zipper on your dress. He hesitates, waiting for your approval which is given with a quick ‘yes yes yes’. Agonizingly slow, he pulls it down, before taking both hands and pulling at the sleeves to move the upper half away from your heated flesh.

Oh. You forgot you hadn’t worn a bra tonight, the dress having built in cups, you didn’t see the reason to, until now. Feeling bare under his burning gaze, you hunch over. “None of that now, love. S’just me,” He says, moving your arms away from your chest. Sitting upright again, you jut your chest out some, closing your eyes against his wandering stare, taking you in. “Gorgeous,” He whispers, fingers running along the slope of your left breast. 

Gasping, you stick your chest out more. You’re hoping he doesn’t need verbal approval, not trusting yourself to form cohesive thoughts at the moment. He continues, your reactions enough. His light touches are bordering on driving you feral, needing more. You squeeze his forearms, hoping he receives the message. He seems to understand, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand pinching the other. 

You cry out, sensation like lightning electrifying you. Your eyes roll back into your head, chanting, “Please please don’t stop, feel s’good, God, please keep going!” He obliges, sucking harder on your hardened nub while tugging on the other. You begin trembling. “W-wait, Simon, I think I’m–” A loud moan rushes out of you along with wetness, soaking your panties from suddenly squirting. A tug of your nipple between his teeth sent you careening over the edge into glory. Your orgasm spreads throughout your body, holding onto him for dear life.

Simon groans, pulling away. “Fucking hell. Cumming from me barely touching you.” He’s looking at you in wonder. He lays you back against the leather, pulling your dress off all the way. Left in just your soiled underwear, he soon pulls those down as well, moaning as he sees the mess you made. “Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, pocketing the ruined panties. He quickly unbuttons his shirt, exposing his chest in all its grandeur. You bite your lip at the literal marble statue hovering over you, running your hands down his pecs and abs. 

You reach his slacks, tugging at his belt. He unbuckles said item, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Now able to see his rather hefty cock straining against his underwear. You let out another whimper, legs automatically spreading open. “Goin’ to give you all you need, sweet girl. Being so good for me,” He says, running his hands up and down your legs, giving a reassuring squeeze to them. He kisses down your chest and stomach, touches soft and sweet. Reaching the apex of your thighs, his hands slot behind your knees, pushing your thighs against you, laid bare before him.

The passion in his eyes is so intense you have to look away, biting your lip. He tuts at you, “Want you to see this next part,” He says, directing your gaze back to him. He smiles, before suddenly a hot stripe of his tongue runs up, through your folds and to your clit. You toss your head back and yell, his chuckle vibrating against your pussy. Your legs are shaking even harder than before. Your words incoherent, you grasp at his hand, pulling him closer to your heat. ‘Good Lord, he’s a goddamn professional.’ Good to know your thoughts are still intact.

Your thoughts come to a standstill, Simon sliding a finger into your warmth. He swirls it around inside before adding another, crooking upwards while sucking on your clit. “Ah!” You’re thrown over that precipice again, legs clamping around his head. He pulls away, watching you shudder and convulse, wetness releasing from you once more. He grins, proud of his work. “Think you have one more in you, sweet girl,” He says, matter of factly, like he didn’t just remove your soul from your body twice in under ten minutes. 

He pushes your thighs further up this time, knees almost bracketing each side of your head. ‘Good God, this man is going to ruin me.’ You’re thankful your thoughts have returned for the moment, knowing your brain will be scattered again soon. He reaches down, pulling a condom from his wallet, slipping it on. “Ready for me?” He asks, lining himself up with your quivering hole, clenching around nothing for the moment. You nod. “Yes, yes, yes please,” you beg, shame be damned, needing Simon inside you now.

He slides in effortlessly, going achingly slow. The stretch is a lot, not surprising, though. It definitely matches in accordance with the rest of his body. He fully seats himself inside you, letting you adjust. “Please, move. Fuck me, Simon, need it so bad,” You’re able to form a coherent sentence, it rushing out of you near the end when Simon pulls out and glides back in. “Fuck, so tight, love. Feel so good, baby,” He moans out, picking up speed. Skin slapping against skin fills the quiet space, movie long over with. 

He’s hitting every single inch of you, rubbing just right. He leans over you, letting your legs drop. You take the opportunity to wrap them around his waist, pulling him flush against you. Simon brings you in for a searing kiss, rocking his hips into you, barely leaving you now. Your moans and panting are music to his ears, his own noises making you sing to the heavens. Reaching in between your bodies, he works your clit in unison with the grinding of his hips. “One more love, you can do it, there you go sweet girl, so good f’me,” He feels the rhythmic clenching around his cock and your squealing, reaching euphoria for the last time that night. He picks up the pace again, his thrusts soon stuttering as he reaches his own end, gasping and whimpering into your neck. 

He keeps himself propped up on his elbows while you both calm from the frenzied activity. As your breath evens out, he pecks your cheek, grinning. “Most proper thanks I’ve received,” He says, laughing at your widening eyes. “You–!” You swat at his chest, beginning to laugh yourself. He slides out, disposing of the condom before picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He sets you down on his silken black sheets, before laying next to you. You toss your leg over his before snuggling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, feeling warm. You mumble a ‘Good night’ before drifting off, Simon not far behind you. Allowing himself to fall asleep cradling you in his arms. Feeling content and happy for the first time in a long while.

Tags: @dwkfan, spicy part two ♡

[hrrtshape]

(i’m 🎀 anon ! ) omg your reply was literally so sweet aaa it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside so tysm for that lovely !!!

i just have a few musings around shifting and manifestation, from a completely personal perspective. I’ve been reading up on the multiverse theory and quantum physics both of which strongly support the existence of infinite universes and i just think it’s so cool!!

the thing is, i haven’t induced the void or pure consciousness yet, i feel like maybe it’s procrastination (the past couple of days i’ve been staying up the whole night because… erm.. avoidance or smth. ugh 😖) and i know i have all the information i need to do it, that’s certainly not the problem.

i just think i have such an optimistic, hopeful outlook on life, things often work out for me in my cr, but i want things to be better ! that’s the thing.

i don’t want “perfectly alright”, i want “undeniably, unwaveringly remarkable”. i want amazing!!

this isn’t the kind of shift where i would want to ever return to my cr. I would want most things to remain the same (like the city i live in, time period, cafes i like to visit and the baristas i like to greet), but alternatively, there are a few big things i want to change.

stuff like my appearance, childhood memories, friends i have (i like to daydream about a close friendgroup like the one from how i met your mother, if you’re familiar 😭), familial wealth and fortune, the languages i speak (i already speak 4-ish languages, i want it to be 5). i would like to be an aspiring model and actress and date and marry my celebrity crush one day whom i believe to be the sweetest guy in the entire world (long story).

i am filled with copious amounts of self love and determination, knowing i can face any adversities thrown toward me with ease. I don’t look away when i see a mirror, and there are many things i admire about myself now.

perhaps that’s why i’m having trouble even beginning to induce the void, getting in touch with pure consciousness and my true power.

apologies for the unnecessarily long ask, but i would love to hear your thoughts on this 🎀

hope your days are filled with soft breezes akin to gentle kisses from an affectionate lover. may you never have a bad hair day in 2025. until next time ♥︎

- 🎀

🎀 anon helloooo !!!!!! FIRST. . . . . you are literally the human embodiment of a warm, buttered croissant. if you were a perfume you’d be called divine providence and it’d smell like old books, honey, and a little bit of citrus????.

okay, onto business. listen. you don’t need fixing. you don’t need to force yourself into the void like you’re some tragic protagonist clawing at the fabric of the universe. you already are it. shifting isn’t some exclusive club with a bouncer named limiting beliefs, it’s a revolving door. you step in when you want.

your problem isn’t knowledge. it isn’t belief. it’s that you are so comfortable in yourself, so at peace, that you don’t feel the urgency. and that’s good. but wanting more? wanting remarkable? that’s not greed, that’s just being alive. we humans live off that.

sooo !!!! stop treating the void like a final boss battle. you’re not some medieval knight about to storm the castle of consciousness. stop waiting for the perfect moment. shift tonight. shift tomorrow. shift while drinking your morning coffee, staring wistfully out a rain-speckled window like a lana del rey song.

think less. feel more. be reckless with your trust in yourself. shift like it’s as easy as breathing, because it is. and when you get there, send me a telepathic “told you so.”

may your pillows always be the perfect level of plush, may every cafe you enter have your favourite seat free, and may your celebrity crush look at you like you’re the first sunrise he’s ever seen.

until next time xx

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Monza 2020

-Haven’t even started the race yet but Monza just gives such good vibes

-“One of the first permanent circuits in the world” 🎶history🎶

-Not even going to comment on Ferrari qualifying, but first Mercedes front row lockout in Monza since 2016 is pretty cool

-Carlos second row!!

-“It’s lights out and away we go” I missed hearing that 😭😭

-Carlos!! Aaah Lando too!!

-Kimiii!! Just seeing the seven on the AlphaRomeo made me so happy!

-Let’s go Lando!

-Car No.3!!!

-I’ve just realized I’ve consistently watched Valterri lose out so many places at the start of every old race I’ve watched recently

-“Puncture” man why

-“Lance Stroll squeezes past Max Verstappen” I’m sorry??

-I’m pretty sure Lando and Carlos haven’t ever shared a podium in McLaren, but man this might’ve been such a close chance for them

-Yes Max! Let’s go baby!!

-“Taking as much as the inside line as he possibly could there”

-Watching Max and Daniel fight it out at the start replay and I might just cry

-Oh god didn’t even realize Pierre and Alex touched

-“There goes Lando Norris. Been reporting issues with hornets in the past few days and that would’ve left a sting on Valterri Bottas” Lol what

-Sebastian???? Oh brake fail goddamittt

-First ever retirement at Monza. This is just really frustrating

-“First time in his career that he has been in the top two positions” Yay Carlos

-“First time McLaren has run in the top three positions since Jenson Button” Nice

-Can Kimi please be in the points at the end of the race?

-Oh? Black and white flag for Lando

-VB: “Can’t race with this engine setting. It’s a joke”

-Alex! Overtaking with floor damage?!

-Is that Kevin? Oh no, whyyy?

-Op- safety car. Commence the pit stop games!

-Oh McLaren staying out?

-Pitlane entry closed? What? Whaaaat? But Lewis just pit??

-McLaren getting an up on Mercedes through strategy was not on my bingo card for this race

-Okay do McLaren win this race?? Cause I really didn’t go into this race expecting that

-🎶Double stacking 🎶

-God the coordination this must take cause all the cars are in and they all have to make sure they’re not impeding the others on their way in/out

-Lance running second place is crazy

-Okay so maybe McLaren don’t win this

-“So this has really changed the order round by quite some margin” Tell me about it! Max is p13!

-Charles comeback!! (Does he still have to pit? Please tell me he doesn’t)

-Kimiiiii

-Oh shitttttttt! That crash just sent a horrifying physical reaction through my body. That was extremely sudden.

-What a nightmare for the Ferrari truly

-Why not just announce both Antonio and Lewis’ penalties at the same time?

-Okay Charles seems to be good, he’s running

-Red flag??

-Oh god the marshals have just wrecked Charles’ car

-“That was the last time we had a red flag because of debris- Azerbaijan 2017?” I think about that race all the time, I really do

-Hehe Lewis whizzing away in his scooter

-Ugh it would be really cool if Lance won this race, especially since everything right now is so much in his favor, but I don’t have that much hope, so maybe podium?

-Oh is Lewis fighting the stewards?

-“Kimi Raikkonen currently stands at fourth” ✨ happy, happy✨

-Oh normal standing start?

-I will cry if Kimi makes podium

-Okay okay okay, light’s out and away we go pt2!

-Aaaah Pierre and Kimi!!!!

-“The old man on the grid, really going for it” Who you calling old man?!

-Ooh Lance nice

-Aaah Alpha Tauri, AlphaRomeo, Alpha Romeo!!

-“Verstappen down in 14th place” Going to ignore that”

-Completely forgot Antonio has to take a penalty as well

-Can the race just end now!!?

-“Hamilton half a minute behind the leader”

-“23 seconds gap to the pack”

-“One thing Giovinazzi is doing at the moment is helping out his teammates Kimi Raikkonen by staying out a little longer” yes let’s go

-“Verstappen in the pits with a problem” Kill me

-The AlphaTauri karma really came through didn’t it? Red Bull DNF and p14 when Pierre’s leading is crazy

-“Hamilton one and a half second faster than the leaders” He really is that guy

-“Carlos be patient with Raikonnen. Be patient” “I’m worried about Gasly” “One at a time Carlos” I really need him to not make a move actually

-No Carlos, nooo whyyyyy?!

-Ugh no, Lance too??

-I will scream

-Lando’s passed him as well now. I am done

-It really has come back for McLaren. Would be cool if Lando makes podium too

-“The Merc doesn’t like following” That was cold

-Lewis is really going hammer time right now

-“Raikkonen’s been relatively easy to get past” What if I just let all these cars run me over huh?

-“For the last 106 consecutive races the winners have been a Mercedes, a Red Bull or a Ferrari, none of those teams are on the top three right now”

-For the love of god, if Kimi loses out on points I will lose it

-Officially losing it

-“Very good driving from these young drivers” So funny to think of them as young now

-CS: “I want this win Tom” :(

-Pierrrre Gaslyyyyyyyyyyyy

-“He leaves Monza as a race winner in Formula One” Aaaah let’s go!!!

-PG: “What did we just do?!? Ohmygodd guys we did it again!” “P1 Pierre! P1!”

-Aw Red Bull cheering them on

-Yesss Driver of the Day

-CS: “So close yet so far. One more lap, I needed one more lap” :((

-“What a feel great result this is” I swearrrr

-“Even the guy who does their Covid tests was out there, screaming and punching the air” 😭😂

-Aw Charles too

-To LS: “Be happy! Podium at Monza”

-“Why don’t I get these kind of interviews? I always get “You won again Lewis” “I did” “You lost again Valterri” “I did” “You couldn’t keep up with the Mercs Max” “I couldn’t””

-Haha that cracked me up

[scary-lasagna]

What is your favorite piece of worldbuilding that you’ve done for the world that your version of the Creepypastas live in that you either haven’t gotten a chance to talk about yet?

[Rubs hands together as I do some think-thonkin] Have I done the midnight sword or foretelling scythe? If not, then that is on the top of the list.

I've talked about a lot of things that I like, such as artifacts, locations, The Elders, Slenderbeings, I even dabbled a little bit in how the magic works.

I think the next task would be the main city of the Underrealm. The creeps don't go into it much unless they're disguised since they're so popular/high-risk targets. However, it does tie into Slender's upbringing and becoming an Operator.

But I love expanding on sub-cultures in general with lore. There's Siren clubs, human-meat markets, black market soul trading, high-ranking businesses, the Operator HQ amongst the tall skyscrapers (Where Slender usually goes for meetings), floating buildings tethered by chains to accommodate the flying beings, beast adoption agency, beast taming services, ugh and there's so much more I could touch on, let alone go into depth about.

Another one might be the concept of "Mumas", the highest being of that division/territory, usually a female. There are "Sir's" but it's rare. Mother is technically a Muma of the Black Forest, but it's not an expanded territory, so she's not looked upon usually.

(Expanded territory means many workers, buildings, businesses, and creating a district empire. The Siren territory has the largest one, and all of it is underwater in it's own city.) Zalgo is in the same boat, being titled as Sir, but he enjoys being referred to as a king. He doesn't have quite an empire, but rather a small kingdom of sorts with the whole "I have to be different and own a castle" thing he's got going on.

The main city itself barely has its own name anymore, considering how many creatures call it different things, and unlike the other territories, it doesn't have a main overseer.

AAAAA I've already talked too much

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eight

“Will you have a Bailey’s dear?”

“Oh yeah, thank you, that’d be lovely.”

Claire’s mother Cassandra, who could genuinely be her older sister, strokes her hand down my cheek to my chin and makes an affectionate clucking sound in the same way that her daughter does. They’re alike in so many ways that it’s almost frightening, clones of one another, the understated beauty, the way they’re always touching you, the plump, pouty mouth. Cassandra is the most glamorous woman in Tullamore and everybody knows it. She’s soft cashmere and velvet, the colour champagne and the smell of vanilla, and tonight she’s dressed in beige and white, patient stiletto heels clicking across the tile in her enormous kitchen to get a carved crystal glass for my liqueur. 

“She won’t be long, love.” She calls out to me as I perch on a settee by their roaring fire in the next room, its mantle adorned with eucalyptus leaves and a dozen white pillar candles. 

“Oh it’s fine.” I say. “I’m alright with waiting, your house is so cosy.”

“Oh, thank you.” She replies, delighted, and hands me the glass, half a strawberry floating amongst the ice cubes. “We’re doing a white and gold theme this year for Christmas, since we had our walls painted in Elephant’s Breath last summer I thought we could keep it neutral.”

“It’s beautiful, you’ve done an amazing job.”

“Oh darling, you’re so nice.” She moves around the room looking for something, all long legs like a gazelle, and then peeps under the coffee table to grab a magazine. “I’m going to go into Barry in the other room, he’s watching a film if you’d like to join us.”

“Oh, no I’m fine here.” I say, and she leaves me by the fire where I curl my legs up underneath me and watch the flames dancing in the dim lamp light, sipping from my glass while the logs crackle and I feel like a kid on Christmas in some 90’s movie like Miracle on 34th Street or Home Alone. It’s the day after Christmas so all of the presents have been opened, but Cassandra leaves fake ones under the tree. I think they’re just empty cardboard boxes but they’re wrapped in gold foil paper and tied up beautifully with silk ribbons with the kind of patience and care that I know I will never have for something so arbitrary as a Christmas present, never mind a fake one. I fantasise, the way I often do when I’m by myself in Claire’s house, that I grew up here and had this wonderful, perfect childhood where I got everything I ever wished for and life was always beautiful. 

My phone goes off and I’m distracted from my daydreams as I take it out of my pocket to see a notification on my Instagram. I tap to open the app and read it, and it’s just Marnie commenting on one of my recent drawings. 

Ugh, so talented. 

I hit the home button and the app instantly takes me to a picture Shane uploaded earlier in the day that I haven’t seen yet. I do a double take when I see it. It’s him and Jen. I stare at it for ages, taking it all in, the way that they have their heads smushed together in the frame, both of them grinning. The caption is: The state of us lol. 

It is disquieting to see it for some reason, and as I look down at my phone in my hand I remember my encounter with Jen in that cocktail bar back in November and how she’d mentioned some get together with all the old gang. Here is photographic evidence that it happened, and Shane went, even though he never told me that he did. I stare at the photo some more, Jen has commented underneath it, something about how bad they both look, and then I notice something else in the background of the photo. 

It’s a hand on a table, the rest of the person off screen but I know instinctively who it belongs to by its long painterly fingers, my insides start feeling like something is bouncing around in my guts and before I can stop myself I have already tapped on Jen’s profile. It’s like my body is invaded by something, and it just takes over from my brain and starts performing automated movements, scrolling, tapping, scrolling, tapping. I go to her followers list and start trawling through hundreds of names, nothing familiar, nobody I know, until…

I stop. There it is. NotJTurner. The little icon next to it is the back of his head, a black puffer coat on him, looking out over a winter sky streaked with clouds, and I want to snort with derision. He really is so pretentious, it pisses me off. I tap on the icon anyway. 

There are no photographs of him on the profile. The whole thing is this immaculately curated mood board, every picture taken with what must be some expensive DSLR camera, edited perfectly to fit the theme and capture city life. A man walks his dog while drinking from a takeaway coffee cup in the snow. Two girls climb out of a taxi on a wet night, the lights of the city smeared and reflected on the slick tarmacadam. A symmetrical shot of a skyline, a building with a hundred windows and then a vast expanse of clear cyan sky in the negative space it creates. The more I look the angrier I get and I don’t know why. All of these carefully selected pictures of this perfect Berlin life, everything so aesthetically pleasing, all of it so goddamned good. I hate that he’s good. He’s supposed to be terrible, he’s supposed to be as awful as the feelings he ran away and left me with.

But I can’t look away. Dotted here and there among the street photography are pictures from exhibitions, some sculpture work he’s presumably doing at college and then like me, he’s photographed his sketchbooks, and they’re breathtaking. Deep, dark and moody, faces emerging from blackness on the page. The way he’s captured expression and movement would put stars in Ida’s eyes, and I linger on one page that just hands, some draped over the edge of a bathtub with wrists exposed, dirt beneath the nails, skin taut over the veins, knuckles rough and scabbed and yet they look like they’re ready to start moving off the page. He never showed me his work that summer, I never knew, he never told me it was like this, and I feel more humiliated than ever that I let him see my stupid, childish work that night after the graveyard. And I think of the way he looked at me and said these are really good. I huff out of my nostrils. What a liar. 

I start scrolling faster through the images, blood rushing through me and throb in my face and I know that if anyone asked me I’d have no way of explaining this reaction and this flood of strange feelings that have crashed over me, how the meagre act of looking at someone’s instagram profile could make me feel with such intensity. 

I stop dead with confusion when I see something else among the other posts. Is that… me? Am I looking at my own face? 

I become still and look, and keep looking. Is it really? I stare at the screen and wonder if I’m just making things up out of self-obsession, but it’s undeniable that the face in front of me is my own. Or rather, the faces. Somewhere in the depths of his profile, way down near the bottom is a photograph of a collection of drawings. There are five heads all arranged on a page, each one with a different expression, confusion, scepticism, surprise, contentment, and another that I become transfixed on because I don’t recognise it right away. The girl on the page has bare shoulders, long, unkempt hair that’s coming across her forehead in loose strands over her low straight brows. Her eyes are bright and engaged, and sparkling, as you might even say if you were feeling generous. Her head is tilted forward and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards to create this cheeky, mischievous expression that I never knew I had. When have I ever made that face? 

He’s made me look so free and so easy and so beautiful that I’m sure he’s taken creative liberties. I don’t ever really look like that. These versions of me are from somebody’s imagination, like they’re a character who’s wearing a mask of my face and has enhanced all of the best parts and ignored the way that my shoulders are always hunched and there’s a line etched between my eyebrows. When did he draw these? Why did he draw these? I read the caption. 

Old work. 

That’s all. Of course he doesn’t say anything about who the girl in the drawings is, or what compelled him to draw her, but why would he? There’s a big piece of me that wishes that he’d shown me these before, emailed them to me, anything. How old are they? Are they from that summer on the beach, or sometime afterwards? My mind drifts back to my bedroom in Tullamore where there is a sketchbook hidden away in a big plastic box beneath my bed that contains my own clumsy attempts at drawing him. I remember doing them in the middle of some emotional episode and feeling like I was in some way creating a bridge between our distance, relishing each little zing of pleasure I felt as I remembered another little detail about his beautiful face that I could put to paper. But you couldn’t waterboard those drawings out of me now, never mind convince me to put them up on the internet. 

When I hear Claire coming down the stairs I hastily put my phone back into my pocket. “Hello gorgeous.” She says as she sweeps into the room. “Are you ready to hit the road?”

“Yes!” I say, and I grab my half full glass of Baileys from the coffee table so I can gulp it down in one go. It doesn’t even make me wince. “Let’s get moving.”

Prev // Next

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Hot Spring Mishap (Yunobo x Reader) - Part 1

I originally started this in an ask but it got so long and I wanted to go another way with it that I decided I wanted to make this a mini series instead. Not sure how many parts yet - probably 2? Definitely will be nsfw later because hello have you seen what I post? Anywho, enjoy. Reader is written female/afab.

This time of year always rendered the hot springs in Eldin rather crowded. You'd been dying for a soak yourself, but found it difficult to get there at a time where it wasn't completely overrun by Gorons or tourists. Being that you lived in Goron City as a merchant made it extra frustrating; it should be easier than it is to get some time to relax! Particularly wound up after your long day, you do your best to try and sprint to the hot springs just a walk away from your home. But to your horror and exasperation, they are, once again full of townsfolk and visitors. "Ugh...I'm never gonna get the opportunity at this rate," you begrudgingly sigh, hanging your head. "Yeahhh, these get pretty crowded, don't they?" sounded a voice behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to immediately face an axe insignia. You recognized it immediately, belonging to the very Goron who visited you at your shop every day as he handled business in the city. Hand to your chest, you took a deep breath as you looked up to a friendly face, "Oh Yunobo! Whew, you scared me." His hands immediately went up, "I'm sorry! I just heard what you were saying about the hot springs, didn't mean to frighten you." You looked back at the hot springs, disappointed all over again that you haven't been able to sit in one for so long. "Seems like the hot springs have really gained some popularity huh?" you said, trying to hide your disheartened expression. Yunobo hummed in agreement, "But that's why I don't use 'em. The ones higher up on Death Mountain are better." 

Higher on Death Mountain? You didn't know there were hot springs up there! Sensing your confusion, Yunobo explained, "Tourists don't know too much about them, well kept Goron secret, y'know?" and he rubbed at the back of his head, "B-But you've been in the city for quite a while now, I don't mind telling you!" You would come to find that it would take two cart trips up there, but he was right - on the back end of Death Mountain were several smaller hot springs, some even being blocked off by walls of long-cooled magma. What a delight! "Yunobo, thank you for showing me this! I hope it's alright if I come here." He grinned jovially at you, "Everybody in the city knows you well enough by now, you're basically one of us! What's ours is yours." This touched you tremendously. Goron City was very inviting already, but Yunobo had always been exceptionally kind to you. You remembered when you first moved there to start your business - he carried your things for you effortlessly, helped you make connections with people in town and travelers who would escalate your sales, always popped into your shop to check on you as a daily routine. You owed the Goron a great debt - one that he swore never needed repaying. Thanking him, you promised to treat him to sirloin rock roast later this week, your treat. For now, you decided to head home - the knowledge of finally having a place to relax putting you at ease. However, that night you found your sleep restless. Your poor tired body ached for some tension release, making it difficult to rest. All of your thoughts immediately went to the hot springs Yunobo had mentioned earlier that day. Would it really be so bad if you took a dip this late at night?

You gathered what you needed for your late-night soak and headed off to the carts to make your way up Death Mountain. You had to give it to Yunobo, he was a lifesaver. Not a soul in sight up here! Still though, you headed towards the secluded springs - the privacy and quiet sounding heavenly in your mind (plus you weren’t exactly keen on any Gorons catching you naked should that be a potential problem). It was quite steamy in the closed off hot spring, not that you minded. You welcomed the warmth, letting it envelope your body. Just to be sure it wasn’t too hot, you dipped your toes in.

“Ohhhh my goddess” you moaned with joy, the temperature being nothing short of perfect. After fully undressing and carefully keeping your things in the corner of your space, you slowly entered the spring, the soothing heat encasing your body. The shudder that left you was sinful, followed by the tension of your day whisking away at the water’s embrace on you. Your muscles released in your soaking, each minute renewing the vitality you’d had near the beginning of the week. Swimming a bit was your next idea, working out a few kinks in your back and legs as you paddled. A quick intake of breath and you dove under, allowing the spring water to caress your temples and relinquish all the stress your scalp had been holding onto. With you being underwater, the sound of footsteps didn't hit your ears past the surface of the hot spring. You resurfaced with a large splash, your hands weaving into your hair to wring it out as you stretched to your full height. A large gulping sound had your eyes snapping open in its direction. At the entrance to your hot spring was YunoboCo's one and only president, his face as red as a Hylian tomato. It hadn't registered to you why he was so impossibly flushed...until you realized you were completely naked from the navel up, and he was completely without any clothing as well. Your arms immediately wrapped around your body, covering your chest as you tried to avert your eyes,

“Shit! Yunobo, I’m so-"

“I’M SO SORRY!” he screeched, moving to scramble back out of the hot spring entrance. As he did, you took notice of the water that had pooled at his feet from your sudden upheaval. Without thinking your hand shot out to grab his, "YUNOBO, BE CAREF-" You managed to snag his wrist cuff, but not before he was already slipping. The force of your tug and his stumble had him falling clumsily into the hot spring, effectively sloshing you both to the opposite end by the wave of his fall. Back slammed into the magma-cooled rock, you hissed at the impact. Yet almost instantly you lost focus on the pain. Crowding your frame against the edge of the spring was the Goron champion, his arms caging your body between him and the carved rock. Yunobo’s face was contorted in what looked like pain as he collected himself from the fall, while yours was slowly turning crimson. His face was she inches from yours, your chests nearly pressed against one another. Any words or noise you could have possibly made died in your throat with the closeness of his proximity. “Ergh...” Yunbo groaned, shaking his head, trying to rattle himself back to his senses, “I’m incredibly sorry about all this...are you oka-”  Your wide-eyed stare nearly inches from his own paused his sentence. It was then he realized how he had you, confined to the very little amount of space he had created for you. His hands had a grip on the edge of the hot spring, but in stopping himself from careening into you any further, instead he just shoved you into a corner, with his body being the cage. Anyone could walk in at a moment's notice and insinuate just about anything from the way you both looked right now: him with his rigid stature pressed in close and you with your soft eyes wide looking both scared and in utter shock. He absorbed everything at once, and with a shout, immediately jumped backwards. Yunobo backed away from you slowly this time, his entire face the same shade of the red earth that surrounded Death Mountain.  “I-I’m so s-s-sorry” Yunobo stuttered out with a shake, terrified by what just transpired. Surely, you’d think he was despicable after this. He turns on his heel, lifting himself out of the hot spring, snatching up his things and rolling away with a loud “PLEASE FORGIVE MEEEEE”  You stare in stunned silence, your arms still around your body as you watched the hero roll frantically away. There was a heavy flash of guilt in his eyes before that you didn’t like, and it made you feel guilt of your own. He didn’t hurt you...it was an accident. He understood that, right? The remainder of your time at the hot spring is spent in unease, Yunobo was a good friend, seeing him upset at any capacity made you sad.  You would talk to him tomorrow, you decided. 

[burstingwithbellies]

Three seats. They made you buy three seats. The entire row on the plane. Sure, you're a plump 900 pounds, but they were rude about it. And now you have to deal with the airport itself. You've been standing in line for security for an hour. You're tired. You're hungry.

Finally you get to the metal detector. You empty your pockets and step through. Try to, at least. Your stomach fills the doorframe shaped machine, you hips much wider. You retreat and try again, sideways. Again, you can't pass through.

Security simply looks on in astonishment. They can't bring you to separate room, they'll have to do the pat down here. You're so large several guards surround you to speed up the process. Their hands close in from all over.

The hands sink into your fat. You're big, but extremely soft. The hands on the right side of your stomach forget their job and start playing with your fat. The hands on your back get stuck in a roll and wiggle to escape. You can't take it anymore. The touching, the groping, the squeezing. You melt at the touch of so many hands exploring your body.

You've become a hot and sweaty mess. The guards double, and then triple, check you, just to make sure they didn't miss anything. You finally waddle off, your fat jiggling wildly as you try to find your gate. A loud creaking sound can be heard as you are forced to stop.

You hips are caught in the doorway. Your massive cheeks are exposed, you couldn't reach your clothes to fix them after the pat down. You look over your shoulder and ask for help, security flashing eager smiles as they press into your backside.

I haven’t gotten onto the plane as yet; I haven’t made it out of the airport yet and I’ve bumped into all the barriers!

My face reddens as they approach me with anticipation. I wriggle around, hoping I would budge myself out, but no luck. I feel the warm brush of a human’s touch on my ass and I gasp out loud.

“Having trouble, sir?” one of them asks.

I nod sheepishly. The hands from before find their places right back on me and familiarize again. God, what are they going to do with me?

How often does this even happen? I mean… I knew I was pushing it by toting myself out to this flight. Something would have gone down. Someone my size is usually bed-bound. I’m lucky to still be walking. Well, waddling.

Nothing would have prepared them for me. Three seats… even though I haven’t reached my destination as yet, I didn’t believe that could have contained me. But I just left that up to when I would make it to my plane.

But it seems like I just miss that in itself because of my size. Before the three seats could become my problem, I’ve gotten myself stuck in a doorway. The fucking doorway.

And it seems like I’m getting fondled now. Well, it feels like it. I really don’t know what they are doing or what they could do for me. What could they do for a mess of a human lard ball like myself? Ugh, it’s so hard to think when I’m so hot, sweaty, and… starving. I need my food.

[zeroseuniverse]

Seeing You

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Exes to lovers but not really, death, poison, ghost Au, I think that's it Pairing: Lee Know x named reader Summary: In which, after her ex passes, she’s put on the case to find his killer, with a Little help from a ghost or two

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“Could this be any more boring?” Changbin groaned as he threw his weight down on the couch in their old studio, his complaint garnered many noises of agreement from the younger four who had accepted their fate with little hesitance.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Hyunjin stated as he continued pacing alongside Chan as they both tried passing ideas off to each other.

The group of eight didn’t know what exactly had happened. All they know is that they had woken up and suddenly it was like nobody could see or hear them. They tried visiting their families but that didn’t work, even their old friends couldn’t seem to sense them. 

“What good is being a ghost if I can’t haunt people? I even had a list!” Seungmin pouted, he was far from happy with the situation of course, but what could he do to change it?

“Are we sure we contacted everyone we have deep connections with? I think we need to find someone who is still holding onto us.” Chan suggested, but Hyunjin quickly argued back.

“Everyone is probably still holding onto us, we died like a week ago. Three of our funerals haven’t even happened yet.”

“I don’t know then! There has to be someone,” Chan sighed, falling back onto the couch as well, feeling frustrated.

“Why do you think our funerals haven’t been held yet?” Seungmin wondered, Minho, Jeongin, and Himself have not seen anything about their funerals.

“It was obviously foul play, ” Han stated, making everyone look at him oddly, “Oh come on, I can’t be the only one thinking it?” 

“How did they get all of us at the same time though?” Felix tried to argue, earning a few sounds of agreement.

“Poison.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Han sighed heavily, hating all of this but he already had a few too many panic attacks.

“Where’s Minho?” Jeongin asked, suddenly making the others turn their heads to the area where the brown-haired man had been previously only to see him gone.

“Oh come on!” He groaned out in frustration as he stumbled into the wrong apartment yet again.

“Ugh, I can still hear his stupid voice.” He heard through the wall, making him perk up, could she actually hear him?

“Look it’s totally normal to still feel him here, you guys were together for eight years. Mourning your ex is understandable.” That’s a voice he didn’t recognize, he poked his head through the wall reaching just enough to peak into a very homey apartment. Everything about the apartment was simply her, the couch that had once been in their shared apartment was nestled in the corner of the living room, the pale orange throw pillows accenting beautifully against the white, and the light-colored wooden furniture was a cute touch as well. His eyes took a moment before they finally landed on what he had been searching for, there she was sitting cross-legged with her elbow bent on the back of the couch to hold her head up, a steaming cup of cinnamon hot chocolate placed in her hand as she spoke to a man who was dressed in a blue button up and slacks, as he had just gotten off of work. 

“He would want you to move on.” No, He wouldn’t. “At your own pace but you need to work past this without giving yourself too much grief for not being there.” The man said, making Minho huff, obviously seeing the heart eyes this man held for her.

“They asked me to go home and look over his case, they suspect foul play.” That’s good! She’d finally be home, that’s all Minho ever longed for.

“Why you? You haven’t been in Seoul in a year?” Stop asking so many questions.

“I was close to the boys, I know more about the people around them than anyone.” She shrugged, a lopsided smile growing on her face as she thought back to her times with the boys. The smile made both men giddy as it was such an adoring look, except only one of them knew what it was directed to.

“Will you be able to handle it? I can ask to come with,” The man offered, making Minho’s eyes narrow into slits. How dare he underestimate her?

“I close a minimum of 75 murder cases a year,  I can most definitely handle this. If you ever underestimate me again, I’ll show you exactly how I took those bastards down firsthand.” She sassed, earning a chuckle from the ghost in the wall making her snap her head in the general direction for a moment not seeing the now ducking ghost who truly wasn’t ready to come to terms with his ex-lover not being able to see him yet.

“Minho what’re you doing?” Seungmin asked, making the older man yelp and stumble back into the other apartment he had accidentally entered.

“Uh…Haunting?”

“Really now? Who do you know in Hawaii that you’re haunting? Wait…” Seungmin gasped, peeking through the wall himself only to make direct eye contact with her, making both of their eyes widen.

“Uh, you know what, I’m rather tired. I think I should rest so I have the energy to pack tomorrow. "She stammered, hurrying her partner out of her apartment anxiously before throwing her weight against the door as she sank to the floor into the fetal position, hoping she’s not finally losing it.

“You can see me?” Seungmin asked as he finally pushed through the wall, making her scramble backward, further away from the unwelcome ghost.

“Oh god, I’m losing it.” She gasped out, watching as three others stumbled through the wall as well. 

“Starshine!” Felix squealed upon seeing one of his favorite people in the world, rushing forward to hug her only to fly through the door behind her, “Ah shit!”

“I need a drink,” She gasped out rushing towards her kitchen to find whatever alcohol she could find only for it to be moved out of her reach at the last minute, she turned to face the culprit only for all words to die in her throat upon meeting the warm eyes of her ex-lover. “Oh god.” 

Her widened eyes filled with tears as she too in her situation, a choked sob escaping her throat as her eyes scattered over the now eight ghosts that have all somehow made their way to her.

It took two hours for her to begin understanding what was happening, well her version of what was happening. She was insanely sleep deprived on top of grieving so it’s only natural to hallucinate, yes that was it. She chuckled at her delirious mind before turning on her heel and heading to her room, ignoring the questions being thrown at her.

“Yah! Get back here!” Changbin yelled, feeling a bit annoyed at her reluctance to believe; However, a part of him understood, if his ex-lover had died and suddenly appeared in front of him he’d probably check himself into a ward.

“They’re not real. They’re not real. They’re not real,” she chanted it like a mantra hoping to believe it at some point.

“Look, we're really here, and we need your help! We don’t know how we died. Or why we’re still here lingering.” Chan tried to reason, making her spin on her heel to face the leader who was internally panicking at driving his old friend into a panic.

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one that can see us, we’ve tried everyone else we knew in our living period,” Felix explained, making her even more panicked.

“I’m the only one? Great, so I am crazy!”

“Gah listen Treasure, you’re not crazy. I’ll prove it, ask me anything.” Minho exclaimed, stepping in between her and the group.

“That wouldn’t work logically, if she thinks we’re a figment of her imagination she  would be able to fill in any information she knows that you know,” Hyunjin explained making her attention snap over to the man that was definitely her best friend, she of course had seen him before but hearing his voice again made her feel swarmed with even more emotions.

“Okay, I’ll tell her something that she didn’t know that I knew.” Minho offered, looking back at the other members for confirmation only to earn shrugs since none of them were quite sure how to deal with this situation themselves.

“Uh…Okay, the night we broke up. I know you were going to propose to me, and I know you got frustrated because I kept avoiding that step and that’s why we broke up and why you even accepted the job here.” He explained feeling a bit ashamed, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to commit to her, it was the opposite he felt as if they were already fully committed and that signing a paper was meaningless. She hadn’t felt the same though, she had felt the need to prove to her family that the relationship was going somewhere rather than just staying in the same place forever.

“How did you find that out?” She gasped, she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone except…

“Your mom told me where to find you, I came. You were leaning against your car talking to your brother. I heard everything. I was going to approach you after he left but you seemed so sad so I just left before I could make anything worse.”

“We’ll let you process all of this�� but we really would appreciate your help in solving what happened to us.” Chan smiled comfortingly at the woman before they all poofed away, allowing the girl to sink back to the floor as a tidal wave of emotions flew over her.

Being aware of the ghosts this time made it difficult for her to communicate with her partner who was dropping her off at the airport. Minho, Hyunjin, and Seungmin had all poofed over to join her on her trip only to see the tanned male trying to find any way to touch the woman possible.

Between all three of them dropping snide comments and seeing their glaring eyes, she was fighting her giggles that were beginning to bubble up in her chest. Hyunjin was giving his famous judging stare that made her feel like they were back in the old days where he’d give her and Minho that look.

Seungmin just couldn’t believe the audacity of this man, I mean the woman is still grieving and he’s trying to make a move? Has he no shame?

Minho was simply trying to kill the man, he was not sitting still in the slightest. As soon as the living male made an appearance he had made his way to strangle him, only to fly right through him, the only effect his attack had was giving the male chills. Eventually he settled for mocking him over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you have to go?” The living male whined making the three ghosts simultaneously roll their eyes.

“Yes, One they’re my friends and Two their families specifically asked for me to consult.”

“You really don’t owe them anything, when was the last time you talked to any of them?” This man was really beginning to piss all of them off.

“It’s not about owing them anything.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ve talked to Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin since the break up. Seungmin used to call me whenever he was alone in the dorm and we’d have sleepovers via facetime. Hyunjin called me twice a week and updated me on everything happening, so I could make sure Minho was taking care of himself like he promised he would the night we broke up. Felix called me while he was baking and he’d send me some baked goods sometimes, Jeongin called me once a week whenever he’d get overwhelmed. Now listen, It’s none of your business why I’m doing this or even what I’m doing, the only reason you got notified of me leaving was courtesy. I don’t know what power you think you have over me to keep me here, but you don’t have any. I barely know you,” the words cut through the air like a knife, Minho looking at his friends dumbfounded since he wasn’t aware of the communication. 

She turned away from her work partner and made her way through security and headed toward her gate. She plugged her headphones into her phone and acted like she was taking a call, as she spoke to the three ghosts following her.

“You guys are so protective even when you’re not here.” She alluded, not trying to give away that she was speaking to dead people.

“It would be wrong to see you with anyone other than Minho.” Seungmin defended, earning nods of agreement from the other two.

“Yea well in case you hadn’t noticed that’s a little out of reach at the moment. Eventually, I’m gonna have to move on with my life.” She blurted not realizing how deep it cut all of them, she was right. While they were stuck watching her move on and live her life they would never experience the feeling of their own beating hearts ever again.

Meeting with the detectives on the case was just as irritating as she had expected, none of them offering much information since to them she was just a foreigner. So after snatching the case files from the arrogant detective who was basically taunting her on whether she’d even understand their language as fluently as she could speak it, telling her he’d help her if she could repay him, she stormed into the office she’d been temporarily assigned.

She opened a file, immediately being met with the crime scene photos. These were centered around Han, who had basically been the permanent third wheel when she was dating Minho. She adored the boy like her little brother, so seeing these pictures caused bile to rise to her throat. He looked like he was simply sleeping, having worked too hard and slumped sideways on the couch unintentionally as he had done so many times before. She swiped the photos away from her view, flipping them for now as she began to review the written notes of the file.

“Don’t you need to see those to know what happened?” An accented voice broke through the silence of the room, but the woman couldn’t even find it in her to jump. She glared down in confusion at the details in front of her, making everything get jumbled. Of course, she suspected foul play but this was definitely an odd find. “What’s with that face?”

“Tetrodotoxin,” was the only response offered, causing Chan to come closer and peer over her shoulder.

“We don’t eat pufferfish, and we haven’t been swimming for any octopus to get us.” He commented, earning a simple hum in return. The only reason he knew what the toxin was, was because sh had rambled about all of the toxins that could kill someone while studying. She always spewed the facts that she needed to recall it was her process.

“While that may be true, someone could have put the toxin in your food. Who handled your food for that day?” She asked, making the Australian think.

“Uh Manager-nim brought us our food, we didn’t see it beforehand.”

Before the woman could think too much about it a knock sounded at the door, “hello?” a timid voice spoke, making the woman at the desk run to the door. She swung the door open and grasped the couple in front of her in her arms as if their lives depended on it.

Chan smiled sadly at the sight, She and Minho’s parents were very close before the split; they saw her as their daughter already and were absolutely devastated when the split happened. He watched as the young adult pulled away from the elders, leading them to the seats across from her to begin asking questions, before deciding to poof away to provide privacy.

“How was it Hyung?” Jeongin wondered as he heard the familiar woosh he had become accustomed to these past few days. 

“She couldn’t look at the crime photos.”

“How is she going to get any clues then?” Changbin asked frustratedly, earning icy glares from Hyunjin, Minho, and Seungmin.

“Shut it, this is a lot for her to handle, have some sympathy.” Seungmin snapped, making Changbin feel a little shameful but he wasn’t at fault he was just frustrated.

“She found out it was poison, the kind in pufferfish. That’s more than the police were giving our families.” Chan sighed, sitting down to think back on the day it happened further.

“So someone poisoned our food,” Han concluded as he internally cheered over being right.

 “Thank you for allowing me in Mr. Park.” She bowed accordingly to the eccentric man who smiled sympathetically at the familiar woman.

“It’s no problem at all, I had my assistant pull up the security footage for you. Is there anything else you may need?” The man asked, trying to be helpful with the situation, South Korean authorities had already come and seen the footage, so he had no idea why they sent an American detective in to review the tapes as well.

“I would like you to stand by so if I find something, you can call in whoever I need to speak to.” She stated formally before sitting down at his desk to look through the tapes.

“We ate around 3:30 that day,” Seungmin whispered as he appeared behind her, she rolled her eyes at the very annoying habit these men were forming. She pulled the tape just before that and zoomed into the area where the food would be prepared.

She watched the tapes for an hour til she noticed something, the sauce. The chef who prepared the food only used the sauce for their food before throwing it out, she watched frame by frame trying to make out who the chef was but couldn’t catch a clear angle. So instead she focused on reflective surfaces, which thankfully did not take her long to find the perfect one. “Got it!” She exclaimed, zooming into the pot and digitally enhancing the pixels to clear up the features.

“Mr. Park!” She called, watching as the man stumbled back into the office, he had only left about 30 minutes ago to make a few phone calls. “Do you recognize her?” She wondered, turning the screen for him to have a look at the staff in question.

“Uh, I believe that is their choreographer Ms. Oh. I have no clue why she’s in the kitchen though.” He stammered a bit, making Seungmin gasp. 

Their choreographer? The one Hyunjin said was finding a way to be unprofessional with them.

“The boys told me about her, they said they filed a complaint to get her removed because she kept being inappropriate with them. Peaking in while they changed, touching them unnecessarily. Why is she still in the building?” 

“She got demoted, but since no proof was actually given we couldn’t do much on the situation legally.”

“I have proof of her slipping something into their food, their food that caused them to die. Has that trash been taken out?”

“It gets taken out every night, but the garbage truck hasn’t run, whatever you’re looking for will more than likely still be in the dumpster.”

And just like that a team was deployed, dumpster diving and grabbing all of the bottles similar to the one shown in the video. Any leftover liquids are quickly being tested.

“Woah,” Changbin gasped as the boys all poofed into the alleyway taking in the hazmat suits.

“What are they looking for exactly?” Minho wondered, watching his ex-lover with warm eyes as she commanded people left and right.

“The canister, Oh might’ve used to carry the poison,” Seungmin explained, peering over a nerdy-looking boy's shoulder as he tested another sample.

“Wait, Ms. Oh?” Han asked in shock, not having expected that much of a jump, she had only been working on this case for a few days and already got further ahead than South Korean authorities.

“That’s the current suspect.” Seungmin nodded, moving to peek over at another person’s data.

“Wow, that…isn’t as shocking as I thought it would be.” Jeongin hummed, watching in fascination as the woman he saw as an older sister fought to bring their deaths justice.

“She looks so beautiful doing this.” Minho grinned taking in the burgundy button-up she wore and black slacks with some subtle black heels.

“Ew gross, you’re dead.” Felix jokes, teasing his friend a bit.

“Yea he’s dead and has more of a chance with her than any living being at the moment.” Seungmin chuckled, knowing good and well that the woman had never actually tried to move on from Minho.

It did not take long for the word to spread about who the suspect was, everyone was on high alert looking for the woman. How they hadn’t noticed the woman dressed in all black sneaking into a populated hotel in the middle of Seoul, nobody would ever know.

How nobody heard the fight through the floors or walls, nobody would ever know.

How nobody could hear the screams of the ghosts that should’ve definitely broken the sound barrier, nobody would ever know.

The eight boys watched in terror as their best friend fought bravely against the woman who had killed them just two weeks prior. She was definitely kicking the woman’s butt and she did not like that one bit, so while she was trying to grab her hands, straddling the frantic woman’s legs and trying to restrain her, the woman lunged forward with the last of her might and punctured the detective’s thigh with a pen, a pen that happened to be full of the same toxin used to take out her friends.

“Shit”

“Fuck”

“No” 

The panicked sounds of the ghosts went fuzzy as she focused in on the adrenaline, using it to her advantage to overpower the crazed woman below her, slamming her head down to stun her, and handcuffing her wrists as quickly as possible, She used her second pair of cuffs and hooked the woman to a nearby radiator before huffing and lying on the ground. She pulled her phone out and called the police, informing them of the situation, before settling her phone down and giving up the fight, deciding to rest until her last breath.

“Why’d you do it?” She mumbled quietly as she closed her eyes and nuzzled into the carpet a bit.

“They got me in trouble.”

“You got yourself in trouble, they were not created to protect anybody’s fragile feelings. They barely knew you and you tried being a pervert.” she argued, making the woman huff.

“I wanted a story to tell, an interesting one. Not just a staff and idol dynamic. I wanted the glory.”

“You could’ve started with just being their friend.” Her voice came out softer as her brain grew fuzzier and fuzzier by the moment.

She knew the woman was talking to her due to the small thrums that echoed through her head; however, no words could be made out as the world faded further and further to black.

“hey…”

“hey…”

“heyy…”

Voices echoed through her ears making her eyes shoot open, she came face to face with a teary-eyed Minho. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”He cried as he wrapped her into his embrace which took her aback for a moment, how could he touch her?”

“You’re touching me.” She started in her haze, earning a few more sniffles before he pulled away and allowed Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin and Seungmin to crowd her as well.

“I’m so sorry Starshine.” Felix whimpered as he nuzzled his head into her shoulder, allowing her to come to finally process the situation.

“I died? You all watched me die?” She teared up, not for any sense of betrayal but because she was hurt for them. They had to see what she feared most, her death.

“You fought so hard, treasure.” Minho cooed, as he comforted the crying Chan.

“I’m so sorry you guys had to see that.”

“No, no, no. No sorries coming from you. We’re all together now, let’s just be happy for a moment please.” Jeongin pleaded, allowing himself to fall into the woman’s embrace, which quickly turned into a cuddle pile as each man piled on top of another.

[goldenhypen]

oh boy help i just remembered that i still have a so many dark blood event reqs that haven’t been touched yet 😭 it already took me a month to get out all that i did and then plus me going on hiatus for like another month didn’t help so like are y’all still even interested tbh? 😭 if i’m being completely real, i’ve lost motivation to write over the past little while and so there’s no inspiration flowing currently and like i also don’t like giving you guys smth i’m not happy with. ugh i’m in a dilemma like on one hand if i discontinue it it’ll feel v incomplete (esp w me thinking that i was so smart to leave jake for last <//3) and i’d feel like i’m also letting ppl down for taking the time to send in reqs and being excited about it and then never fulfilling that would just be <//333 but then on the other hand, if i discontinue the event, i’d def feel a lot a lot of weight off my shoulders, more free and can have a fresh start w everything. cuz ngl i think i am gaining inspiration,,,, but for other fics and ideas,, not dark blood requests. basically it’s putting my well-being, happiness and inspiration (for a lack of better words T-T) over others,,, and ngl it’s part of my beliefs and values to put others before myself so like <//3 like doing the dark blood reqs is still writing and i find joy in writing,, it’s just that when it comes to requests, sometimes that happiness becomes forced yk? help y’all i’m actually T-T

[posebean]

Summer Rain: Feverish Weather 3

Writer: Beanosei

Season: Spring

Characters: Niki, Rinne

Niki: I’m done, Rinne-kun. I quit. This isn’t good for me.

Studio, the next day

Niki: …

Rinne: Niki~ 

Niki: …

Rinne: Niki?

Niki: …

Rinne: Ni~ki~kyun! (jumps on him)

Niki: GWAH

Niki: Rinne-kun! Stop that! 

Niki: Don’t touch my neck all of a sudden!!!! Just because they put my hair up for this scene doesn’t mean you can just…do whatever?!

Niki: (UGH this was what I was talking about! My heart is racing and I can feel myself warming up…)

Niki: (But it’s obvious he’s just messing around~)

Niki: (Don’t let it get to you, Shiina Niki!)

Rinne: How else am I supposed to get Niki’s attention though~

Rinne: He’s spacing out a~lot. Hasn’t been listening to anything I’ve said for the past few minutes.

Rinne: Didn’t even respond when I called this look cute on you~ Especially with your nape visible!

Rinne: Whoever was on costume direction definitely knows where it’s at~ my Niki~kyun’s nape visible to the world!

Rinne: (Jumps on him again)

Niki: !

Niki: (Ahhhg geez! There he goes again, messing around! Non. Stop!!!!)

Niki: (I haven’t been able to focus at all today! My mind is still spinning and-) Rinne: ♪ (Nuzzling him)

Niki: (Rinne-kun’s not helping at all!) Niki: (I could barely sleep last night, that stupid conversation with Kohaku-chan and Himeru-kun replaying over and over in my head…)

Niki: (I’m not lovesick! Not at all, especially not over this guy!)

Rinne: Niki~?

Niki: (Not at all!! Himeru-kun and Kohaku-chan are wrong, this has gotta be because of an actual sickness! Maybe I did end up catching a cold because of all the filming in water!)

Niki: (Always feeling warm, heart pounding, unable to focus and always stumbling- those are the token signs for a cold!)

Niki: And not! Because of his stupid smile!

Rinne: Who’s stupid smile~?

Niki: (GAH I said that out loud?!)

Rinne: Thoughts aside of my dear~est Niki~kyun thinking about other men besides me while I’m here~

Rinne: Niki, are you okay? Is it your condition? Have you eaten anything yet?

Niki: Hggh.

Niki: (And there he goes, easily switching back to being so…)

Niki: (So suffocatingly caring and sweet.)

Rinne: Do you want me to tell the director to give us a break? You’ve been out of it the whole time.

Rinne: (Frowns and grabs his shoulders, looking into his eyes.)

Rinne: Did you even sleep? You look exhausted, Niki. What’s the problem?

Niki: (As if he wasn’t just messing around, teasing me to his own enjoyment. As if he actually cared-)

Rinne: Niki? You know you can talk to me, right? Hello?

Niki: (Well. Of course he cares. I know he cares.) Niki: (For me, for Himeru-kun, for Kohaku-chan. He cares for all of us.)

Niki: (I KNOW that…)

Rinne: Niki…?

Niki: (But this. This whole thing. This whole acting job.)

Niki: (Rinne-kun’s just messing around. Doing whatever he wants to do, as always. And dragging us all in, especially me.)

Niki: (Everything is acting. He’s putting on an act, and he damn well isn’t fooling me!)

Rinne: …

Niki: (He’s fooling my heart, maybe. But not me! I won’t be fooled at all!)

Niki: !

Rinne: (Has a hand over his forehead)

Rinne: Niki…you’re burning up…are you feeling alright?

Niki: (Flinches back) Rinne: …?

Niki: Th-that’s exactly it! Stop this, Rinne-kun! Stop it right now!

Rinne: Stop what? You stay silent and now all you do is tell me to stop?

Niki: Everything!! Just stop it!

Rinne: Oi Niki, what do you mean? I’m literally just making sure you’re okay?

Niki: All of this! This is exactly it!

Niki: I know what you’re doing! This entire thing is to mess with me, isn’t it? Making me the second lead, actually being nice without hiding behind anything, your stupid smile being the one thing I can think about-

Rinne: Niki-

Niki: You’re making me feel so many things, making me so distracted and it’s as if I’m actually sick!

Rinne: …

Niki: Himeru-kun and Kohaku-chan said I’m lovesick, which I am absolutely not! At all! Not at all!

Niki: None of your gestures mean anything special and it’s all either acting or to mess with me! And you may think your plan to mess with me is working but I can guarantee you it’s not at all, Rinne-kun! I’m not dumb!

RInne: Niki, wait-

Niki: No! I won’t let your honeyed words fool me anymore! None of this is good for my heart.

Niki: Seeing you this loving, this caring and sweet, knowing that it’s all an act and not genuine…that everything is just Rinne-kun having his fun messing around with poor Niki again-

Niki: I’m done, Rinne-kun. I quit. This isn’t good for me.

Niki: I’m hungry, and everything is spinning.

Niki: Tell Director-san I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore. I really tried.

Rinne: Niki listen for a moment-

Niki: No. Besides, isn’t this better? I’m a chef, not an actor. Barely even a proper idol.

Niki: What am I doing here, trying to be something I’m not?

Niki: It’s obvious that I’m slowing us down. Nahaha, I’m just doing everyone a favor, removing my bothersome self from the picture.

Rinne: …

Niki: (Really, it’s for the best. From the way this is going, I don’t think we’ll be speeding up anytime soon if I keep stumbling over every little thing.)

Niki: I’ll just step to the side and watch. Maybe help the film crew out with some things.

Niki: I just- 

Niki: I can’t do this anymore, knowing it’s all fake.

Rinne: …

Niki: (...It’s not all Rinne-kun’s fault. It’s my own, for even trying to believe that some of that was genuine…)

Niki: Nahaha…It’s always me, isn’t it? First me leaving you all alone because of that fight with my dad, leaving you to rot away in a dying idol career…

Niki: And now abandoning you all mid-way through a movie.

Niki: I guess I really am only suited to being a chef~

Rinne: …I’ll let Director-san know, then.

Niki: You’re not going to fight for me to stay?

Niki: (Wasn’t he the one that refused to even be in this movie if I wasn’t second lead? He’s giving up this easily?)

Rinne: Even I know when it’s a fight I can’t win.

Rinne: (walks away to speak to the director)

Niki: …

Niki: (That expression…I didn’t notice it at first but-)

Niki: (Rinne-kun…he had such a sad look on his face.)

Niki: (But this really was the right thing to do…right?)

[Back][Next] [Masterlist]

[dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd]

Moving In

Ledger!Joker x Harley (what I think she'd be like in the Nolanverse)

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Summary: After Harleen is attacked and injured in the alleyway, J invites her to stay in his hideout.

Author's Note: I wanted to get some writing done over these few days off since December is gonna be so busy lmao. Anyway as always enjoy! 💕

Edit - Dec 8th, 2024: This has been changed from the original because my old writing sucks and it needed an update 🙃 Should be better now.

< Previous - Next Part >

Nothing ever went the way she planned. 

Much to her dread, yet somehow delight, Harleen was getting more familiar with the clown. They saw each other almost every night. Joker talked to her for hours. It was like they had known each other their whole lives and not just a few weeks. He seemed to really like her for some reason. He also brought her food and various things she needed. Harleen appreciated the gesture but she didn’t understand why he was being so kind to her.

Tonight was no exception. As Harleen laid on the cold, hard ground, nestled in some blankets Joker had brought her, she spotted Joker coming down the alleyway through a crack in her cloth nest. His expression was dark and brooding. His day must not have gone well. As soon as he saw Harleen though, he seemed to lighten up.

“Good evening, Ms. Quinn.” He said in a sing-songy voice and sat down beside her. 

“Evening...” Harleen mumbled as she sat up from her blanket pile. Her mop of blonde hair was wild and her eyes were half lidded.

“Oh sorry, doll. Did I wake you?” 

“No. I was trying to sleep but it’s kinda difficult. How did your day go?” 

“Eh, it went. My men are fucking stupid.”

Harleen bit back a smile. “Oh really?” 

“Yeah. They almost got us busted. Thank God I stepped in and covered their tracks. Ugh, it just puts even more work on me.”

“I’m sorry. Are you feeling any better now?”

“I guess. Got some takeout on the way home. That always lifts my spirits. I have leftovers. You want some?”

“Uh, sure. Whatcha got?” 

Joker produced a styrofoam box from the duffel bag he was carrying. “Just some fries and half a burger.”

Harleen accepted the box from him and started eating. Joker watched her intently with a small smile. 

“So how was your day, doc?” He asked.

Harleen chewed for a moment before answering. “Uh, fine I guess. Same old same old. A random lady came by and gave me 20 bucks. So there’s that.”

Joker nodded.  “Sometimes rich people get lost and wander over towards this side of town. They’re always horrified at the state of this place.”

“Yeah, she looked pretty well off. She probably felt bad for me. But hey, I’m not going to say no to free money.”

“There ya go. Hey, how’s the food?”

“Amazing. Where’d you get this?”

“Just a little spot by the harbor. I usually just get a burger to go. But they also have the best home cooked meals. Reminds me of what my mama used to make.”

Harleen noticed that over the course of their many conversations Joker mentioned his mother a lot. He only spoke highly of her and in past tense which meant she must’ve passed. “Were you close to her?” 

Joker had a faraway look in his eyes.“Yeah. She was pretty special to me. What about you?”

“Nope. My mother and I have never been on good terms. Especially not now. Some stuff happened in the past that she blames me for. And now somehow this is all my fault. Like I set out to do this on purpose, or that I was supposed to know that Arkham would hire a phony.”

“Sounds like a real bitch. When’s the last time you heard from her?”

“I haven’t seen her in person in years but we stayed somewhat in touch. I called her after I got an eviction notice. All I wanted was to see if I could maybe come home for just a few days until I could figure things out. And trust me, that was my absolute last resort. I haven’t stepped foot in that house since I was 18. Well, she lost it at me and said how dare I have the audacity to ask that. I’m the bigshot who had to move away to the big city and I’m a grown ass woman, I can take care of myself. How dare you run off and abandon your poor mother! Blah blah blah. The same shit she always says.”

And I didn’t abandon her. She abandoned me years ago. Harleen added to herself angrily.

Joker chuckled in disbelief. “Wow.”

“I know! The only reason I even got to go to Gotham University was because I got a scholarship! Why would I not take that opportunity? She can never just be happy for me.”

“Screw her. You did what was best for you. You can’t control what she does. Let her be mad.”

“You don’t understand. She twists and manipulates everything I say and then makes me feel like shit. Everything is about her. I always put the blame on her. She’s the victim.”

“Sooo, she’s a narcissist.”

“Yes! She needs to be studied, I swear to God.”

“Mhm. You probably had a shitty childhood then.”

“You think?”

Joker grinned at that. “I had a pretty rough one too.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah. The daddy issues are very apparent.” 

“Whoa. You’re good.”

Harleen scoffed. “Not good enough apparently. Since I don’t have a rich daddy to do my dirty work.”

Joker laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t take it so personally, doll. That says more about them than it does you. I’m sure you’re great at your job.”

“Thank you. You’re the last person I expected to hear that from.”

“Heh.” He glanced at his watch. “I would stay out here with ya some more, but I gotta get up early tomorrow. It’s getting really late.”

Harleen nodded. “I understand. Go get some sleep. Seems like you’ll need it.” 

Joker stood up with a grunt. He bent down in front of Harleen and gave her a small kiss on the forehead. She bristled at his touch and stared up at him in shock. Before she could say anything, he’d already turned away and started up the ladder. 

What am I getting myself into?

—

The next night came and there was no sign of Joker. It was getting really late so Harleen guessed he was probably staying out because of another job or something. She buried herself under her blankets and tried to sleep on the uncomfortable concrete to no avail. Some time passed and she still couldn’t sleep. 

She found herself missing him. Weeks ago she would’ve been glad to be rid of him. She enjoyed his company. He had a certain charm that overpowered his dangerous aura. He was a great listener and didn’t judge her for venting. She never imagined this was what her ‘sessions’ with him would be like. This was a much better setting than cold, clinical Arkham. Maybe not getting the job was a good thing.

Harleen curled up tighter under the blankets, shivering. Faintly she heard a voice nearby but brushed it off and tried once more to get some sleep. Then she heard multiple voices echoing down the alleyway. She tensed and tried to remain perfectly still, her heart racing as they sounded closer. How she wished Joker was there. 

“There ain’t nothing out here! It’s the emptiest part of town!” One voice shouted.

“You know how many bums live around here? They probably got at least a little cash on them. It’ll be just enough to get a fix. Look over there. There’s one.” Another voice said.

Harleen heard heavy footsteps coming towards her. She gasped and stifled a scream as a pair of hands ripped the blankets off of her. A group of three rough looking men loomed over her.

“Would ya look at this beauty, boys! We found something better than cash.” One man told the others.

“Yeah. Let’s get her.”

The men advanced towards her. Harleen hastily grabbed the knife that Joker had given her and held it out in front of her.

“Get away from me!” She shouted.

The men just laughed at her. They took out their own knives and lunged. Harleen ducked. One man’s knife grazed her calf, slicing through her pants. She winced, not giving them the satisfaction of hearing her scream, and tried to crawl away from them. 

She got about halfway down the alley but one of the men grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. She tried to kick him off with her other leg, landing a few blows to his chest, but it was no use. His grip was too strong.

She was about to give up, but then she heard one of them scream. Her head shot up and she saw Joker beating the shit out of them. He bashed them into the wall, landed punch after punch, knocked their teeth out. The men were screaming and crying and begging for mercy. 

“Please, man! I didn’t touch her! Get off me! Aghhh!”

Joker did no such thing. He kept going until they were laying there, writhing and choking on their own blood. Harleen watched wide eyed from afar, thinking for sure he’d kill them. He probably had because by now they were on the ground and not moving.

Joker walked over to Harleen and offered her a hand up. She took it and stood up on her wobbly, weak legs. Joker put his arm around her to keep her from falling.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. My leg is a little injured but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not safe for ya out here. Come stay with me at my place. I don’t mind. I should’ve asked you a long time ago.”

Harleen considered the offer for a moment. She knew she shouldn’t. She would be staying in an extremely dangerous criminal’s hideout. There was no telling what could happen to her. But he had been very kind to her and he did rescue her twice. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to grow very fond of him. 

Oh, what the hell? I don’t have anything to lose anyway. So what if he kills me?

“Uh, sure. I’d love to. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re gonna have trouble getting up those stairs. Here…” 

Joker picked her up swiftly and carried her in his arms. Harleen was startled.

“Oh, uh, okay.” She muttered as Joker started up the ladder and then the stairs. 

She gripped his chest firmly to keep from falling, but not so hard that she seemed like a damsel in distress. She couldn’t help but take in his scent. It was a mix of explosives and cigarettes, with a dash of mint. It was heavenly. She shook off the thought in disgust at herself.

Joker reached his floor and put Harleen down for a moment. He pried open the window as far as it would go and crawled through. Harleen followed him and he shut the window behind her.

He helped her up and led her through the apartment. It was dark, messy, and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly in a long time. He sat Harleen down on the grungy, tattered looking couch and cleared away some drawn on newspapers and stuff from the coffee table. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess. I don’t usually get, uh, visitors.” Joker offered a small apology. 

He grabbed a box from a table across the room and sat down on the couch beside Harleen. Inside the box was an assortment of medical supplies. 

“I gotta treat your leg, otherwise it’ll get infected. Ya don’t want that. It can get, uh, pretty nasty.” 

Harleen nodded. She rolled up her pants and let him stitch her up. He was quick yet gentle at the same time. When he finished she could barely tell that there was a wound. 

“How’d you learn how to do that?” She asked him.

“I’ve had lots of practice.” Joker replied as he put away the medical stuff.

Harleen pulled her knees up to her chest and looked around the apartment. It was laid out in an open floor plan, except for a corner with a door and side wall sticking out. She guessed that was the bathroom. Behind the living area was an open kitchen that had dishes, pots, and pans scattered everywhere. Across the room to her right was a bed that wasn’t made and pushed into the other corner. 

“Where do ya wanna sleep? I got a bed and a couch.” Joker asked.

“The couch is fine.” Harleen responded. 

She was not about to sleep in someone else’s bed. This was already weird enough.

Joker stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Well, I’m tired so I’m goin’ to bed. You can do whatever you want. Just don’t touch anything cause I do have weapons and stuff here.”

Harleen slowly nodded. He was so casual about that. This life was normal to him. It baffled her though she should’ve been used to it by now. 

Joker slid out of his dress shoes, purple coat, green vest, and tie, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He crawled into bed, still wearing his dress shirt, pants, checkered socks, and of course his makeup. Harleen wished he’d wash it off so she could see his gorgeous face again. 

“G’night.” Joker said, settling beneath the covers.

“Goodnight Joker.” Harleen said back. It felt weird calling him that.

“Call me J.” He mumbled before drifting off. 

J. Harleen liked that a lot better. Why didn’t he suggest that before and spare her the awkwardness? Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable around her as he was now. It showed they were forming a bond and Harleen didn’t know how to feel about that.

As she watched his chest rise and fall, she listened to his soft breathing and wondered how often he had the opportunity to get decent sleep. She guessed he must’ve been really tired because she’d read in his patient file before that he had trouble sleeping. It made sense. With his racing mind, it probably seemed impossible to get some rest.

Growing tired herself, Harleen laid down on the couch, propping her leg up on a pillow. She rested her head on another pillow and covered up with her jacket. She closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.