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sageispunk · 9 months

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What U Need (18+)

Kinktober prompt: exhibitionism (day 3)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Teasing Joel underneath a table in a bar sometimes leads to getting ruined on the side of the road.

"Your hands trailed along the zipper of his jeans, fingers teasing his cock over the fabric long enough to make Joel Miller begin to fall apart right in front of you. Right here, in the middle of this bar."

wordcount: 2.5K+

warnings: no Y/N, preestablished relationship, age gap (early 20s + mid-40s), no-outbreak + no sarah, reader’s feeling a bit feral in a bar, joel doesn’t talk much at first, intoxication, teasing, exhibition/public play (no panties in public), over-clothes touching, cursing (obv), degrading language (he calls reader a “dumb fucking slut” at one point), unprotected p-in-v sex (WRAP B4 U TAP), foreplay, angry/horny joel, kinda desperate reader tbh, groping, joel gets a bit rough, the word “daddy” is used several times, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, CREAMPIE, reader has hair that can be gripped/pulled

A/N: follow my sideblog @sageispunklibrary and turn on notifs to be updated when i post!! 🩷

You were on your third– no, fourth cocktail since arriving at the bar with Joel about thirty minutes ago. Your body was so warm that you could feel your dress clinging to your skin from the light moisture. You looked across the table at Joel, who was silently people-watching as he nursed his second glass of whiskey. He looked so sexy tonight, dressed in a black crew neck shirt that was tight enough to show off the outlines of his chest and beefy biceps. He also wore the necklace you recently bought him for his birthday, a simple thin gold chain that you found that same night was nice to look at while he was propped up above you, pounding your pussy into oblivion.

The memory of that night began to play in your mind, making your body heat up even more. Your feet subconsciously moved around under the table as your thighs clenched, one of them bumping into Joel’s, bringing his attention back to you. “Y’okay there, darlin’?”

You looked into his dark chocolate eyes, and responded. “Mhm, just a little warm, is all…”

He could tell there was more but decided to leave it be, to your surprise. You could feel your frustration growing the longer you sat still in your seat. Then his phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up and let out a deep sigh as he began to type out a reply. “Work?” You asked, already knowing the answer. The only other option would’ve been Tommy, and Tommy would’ve just called.

Joel grunted out a ‘yea’ and set the phone back down. The lack of conversation had you feeling needy, not having seen him all day because of work, and even now at 10 o’clock, work was still getting in the way. You watched as he picked up the glass and knocked back the rest of his drink, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as the liquid slid down his throat had your brain feeling fuzzy.

You cleared your throat, deciding to down the rest of the margarita. Joel noticed you were finished too, and slid out of the booth. “Heading over, y’want another?” You nodded, making brief eye contact before your eyes nervously looked elsewhere. He lingered back for half a second, wondering what was making you act so strange, but decided to just head to the counter.

After Joel left, your neediness, horniness, whatever it was–it skyrocketed. Some part of you wanted to get up and drag him into the restroom so he could fuck your brains out in a filthy stall, but you knew he’d probably never go for it. Joel wasn’t a prude, far from it, but public sex wasn’t something the two of you ever got into.

Tonight though, you were feeling frisky and wanted to take some risks. Your booth was tucked away in a darker part of the bar, not many people were near you so you weren’t worried about being caught doing anything lewd. You briefly glanced around to be completely sure no one was watching, before slyly bringing your hands under the table, sliding your damp lace thong down your soft legs. Once you had the small fabric bunched up in your hands, you had to bite your bottom lip to keep a poker face. Excitement rushed through your system–paired with the alcohol, you were beginning to feel invincible.

A few moments later, Joel came back, both of your drinks in hand. As he slid back into the booth, he noticed the flustered look on your face and cocked his eyebrow a little. “Here ya go, baby.” His eyes were trained on your face as he handed it to you, the look in his eye a bit dark, calculating.

It turned you on, having no panties on in public, but even more that Joel didn’t know yet. However, you didn’t think this far ahead and you really wanted him to know as soon as possible, just to see what he might do. “Thank you, Joel..” You made doe eyes at him, taking in the way he shifted in his seat, obviously beginning to feel the effects of the brown liquor. “I missed you today, I feel like I don’t get to see you much because you’ve been working so much,” There was a slight pout in your voice, and it drew him in.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” His deep Texan accent paired with the petname sent a shiver down your spine, all the way to your lower belly. He leaned into the table more, face coming in closer and you could see the way his gaze kept moving back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “How can I make it up to ya?”

You mirrored his actions, leaning in on your left elbow with the side of your face in your palm, leaving only a few inches between both your faces. “Mm, I dunno, let me think..” You took this as your opportunity to sneakily find his hands under the table with your right hand, transferring the fabric to his hold. You innocently smiled at the confusion on his face while he pulled back to look at what you gave him.

“Wait don’t–” You chuckled as he almost brought the panties back over the table. Joel narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out what the hell you were trying to pull on him. Your eyes focused on his face, enjoying each expression on his face as he realized what he was holding.

He whispered your name, in a shocked but slightly dark tone, watching as you sat back in your seat with a big grin on your face. “What the hell do y’think you’re doin?!” He kept his voice down but the harshness remained. You could feel your seat getting wetter, your slick dripping down your thighs onto the faux leather.

With a shrug and another sip of your drink, you responded. “Just wanted to show you how much I’ve been missing you, is all.”

He was more taken aback than you expected. “By takin’ your panties off in the middle of a bar, like a fuckin’ slut??”

You leaned back in, faux innocence dripping from your lips. “I’m sorry daddy, do you not like it?” As soon as that word left your mouth, Joel’s eyes got darker, almost black. You had him. Your right hand snuck back under the table, finding its way to his crotch, where lo-and-behold sat a warm, throbbing, rock-hard cock in a tight pair of jeans. “If you don’t like it, I can put them back on. Might get caught though…” You slowly moved your hand up and down his bulge, finding pleasure in the way he struggled to keep his eyes open and stern.

“Seems you like it when I act like a slut, based on how hard your cock is for me right now.” You gave a gentle squeeze and smiled when he groaned, eyes fluttering shut and mumbling quietly. “Jesus Christ.”

Your hands trailed along the zipper of his jeans, fingers teasing his cock over the fabric long enough to make Joel Miller begin to fall apart right in front of you. Right here, in the middle of this bar.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He snapped out of it, eyes coming back up to meet yours with nothing but need in them. “Get the fuck up. Now.” You removed your hand, a bit thrown at the harshness of his voice but ultimately turned on and ready to do anything he asked of you. He threw back the rest of his whiskey and pulled out his wallet, as you sipped the remnants of your drink.

Joel threw down a wad of cash on the table before looking at you with a look that said “don’t make me repeat myself.” You stood, careful to keep your way-too-short dress below your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth at the wetness you left behind on the leather. As you took a napkin to wipe it up, Joel quickly stood up and roughly grabbed your arm to pull you in front of him, an effort to hide his huge boner from the other patrons. “Come on, sweetheart.” He gritted in your ear, letting you sort of guide him out the bar and to his truck.

For the past five minutes, Joel had been yelling your ear off. He was mad, mad that you would pull that shit in his favorite bar. Where everyone there knows him and his quiet but handy reputation. He was mad that you would risk fucking that all up ‘just for some dick.’

Like he doesn’t know the hold his dick has on you.

Anyways he shouted at you, driving about 15 over on the same dark road the two of you took to go home everyday. It didn’t bother you, really. You knew there was a chance he’d be pissed off, you were prepared. What was bothering you was the fact that you still hadn’t cum. You thought maybe he’d be mad and you would have the best angry sex of your life, right in the truck outside the bar, but nope.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening t’me?” His voice cut through your thoughts again, and you looked over, not even having to answer because he could read the look on your face. “Of course not, all you care about is your fuckin’ pussy. You probably can’t comprehend a goddamn thing I’m saying right now, can ya? Dumb fucking slut.”

The words he spit out at you had an unreal effect on you. The degradation had you sopping wet, surely soaking his seat. You tried not to squirm too much but you were in desperate need of some friction, you needed something or someone to touch you. Taking a deep sigh, you chose to not respond to him, focusing more on ways to achieve an orgasm without touch. Your thighs trembled slightly as they squeezed together, giving your clit a little extra stimulation. A breathy moan escaped your throat, catching Joel’s attention once again.

He didn’t comment this time, just glanced over at you with a look you couldn’t place. You saw him shake his head from your peripheral, but you paid him no mind, continuing your squeezing and looking out the dark window. Suddenly, the truck was pulling off onto some dark backroad that you’ve never gone on. Joel parked off on the side and cut the car off.

“What–” He cut you off. “Get out.”

You unbuckled, a bit confused but following orders nonetheless. Once you were out of the vehicle, you walked around the back where he stood. “Joel, what are we–” He grabbed you by your hair, pulling your face close to his, so that you could see him better.

“Since you can’t control yourself, we’re just gonna have to do this here.” His lips were so close to yours, you wanted so badly to move closer to feel them on your own, but his grip on you was tight. He tilted your head back with the fist in your hair, exposing your throat to him, other hand placed firmly on your jaw. When you felt his hot, wet tongue lick a stripe along your neck, you thought you would combust.

“Joooeellll…” You cried out, almost overstimulated by the way he was licking and sucking on your favorite spots. He groaned into your skin, the sound sending a pang to your lower stomach. God, he needs you as much as you need him.

You brought one hand down to his cock–still hard as a rock in his jeans–groping and squeezing the bulge, pulling more deep groans out of him. He took a break from his conquest on your neck and chest, turning you around to face the tailgate of his truck. “Fuck, darlin’...you’ve been wanting this all night, huh?”

You shook your head. “All day, daddy.”

“Say it again.” He ground into your ass with his cock, and you pushed back, wishing he would just take them off.

“I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day, daddy. I want your cock so bad, I need it in me please, just fuck me please…” You rambled, desperately needing him to ruin you.

You heard his zipper open, then the shuffle of his jeans down his legs, and you felt as though you’d been lost in the desert for weeks and finally, you’ve come across a cold spring of water. “One more time for me, baby.”

“Please fuck me daddy.” You cried out, not caring if anyone could hear you, even though it was unlikely in this rural area. As soon as the last word left your mouth, Joel pushed you forward slightly, causing your dress to finally roll up to your waist, and slid right inside of you, the both of you groaning in unison. He pulled back out slowly, drawing a long wail of his name out of your throat, before he quickly thrusted back inside of your warmth. His long, thick cock stretched you out and filled you up to the brim, reaching your favorite spot with each thrust. “Fuck, baby, goddamn this pussy is so fucking wet f’me…” Joel groaned praise into your ear, one hand still in your hair and the other now gripping your hip.

You used the little energy you had left to meet his rhythm, throwing your ass back to him, occasionally receiving a hard slap or two. “Joellll, baby, fuck!” Those three words made up your only vocabulary for a couple minutes, until he got you right there, at the edge.

“I’m so close, daddy.”

“I know baby, I can feel it, let go f’me okay. Cum for me sweetheart, you got it.” The degradation from only a few moments ago paired with the sweet things he was now panting in your ear had you about to explode. One of your hands gripped onto the tailgate and the other went straight to your clit, rubbing as fast as you could.

All you could hear was your own breathy moans, paired with Joel’s deep groans and the sloppy, gushing, wet unity of your two bodies.

Your entire body tightened up as you tipped over the edge, finally getting that release that you’ve needed all day. You screamed out in total bliss, your eyesight leaving you for a few moments. Right behind you, Joel let out a longggg groan, crying out to you. “Fuck, baby I’m cumming.”

“Cum for me, daddy, fuckkkk..” You felt him pulsing inside you, filling you up until it was leaking out around his cock. His hips slowed and stuttered, eventually slowing way down, his upper body resting on your back. “Jesus Christ,” Joel panted, leaving a couple kisses on your back.

You chuckled, all of a sudden feeling very, very tired and blissed out. Joel left one last kiss on the back of your neck before slowly pulling out, trying not to overstimulate you, with his cum spilling right after. “Oh, fuck,” you shivered.

You turned around and threw your arms over his shoulders as he pulled his jeans back up, sloppily pulling him in for a kiss, needing to feel his soft lips on yours. He obliged you for a few moments, before pulling back and grabbing something out of his back pocket.

Your panties.

“C’mon baby, let’s put these back on and head home.”

AAAAAAH finally published, i know it's past midnight now its a little late (not if we count the west coast tho hehe). but my second post (and my first joel fic)!! so excited to share this with you guys, i rlly hope u enjoy it!! please like and reblog (and leave plenty of comments) if u do. feel free to send requests/suggestions!! <333

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

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silentmoths · 27 days

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A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you.

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.”

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you.

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead.

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb.

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived.

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on.

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up.

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?”

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear.

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him.

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny.

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array.

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.”

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing?

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore.

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!”

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life.

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.”

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.”

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack.

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him.

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it.

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day.

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips.

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage.

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive?

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy.

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you.

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired.

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.”

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated.

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles.

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so.

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?”

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing.

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly.

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles.

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.”

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him.

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch.

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens.

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him.

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it.

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.)

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play.

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots.

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now.

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you.

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…”

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear.

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand.

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.”

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter.

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates)

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass.

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard.

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you.

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you.

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful.

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?”

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.”

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmoth writes #finally #HSR x reader #Hsr Smut #Boothill x reader #boothill x reader smut

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wosoamazing · 5 months

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Williamson v Williamson

Summary: It’s the Semi-Final Match against England, you’re playing against your sister for the first time, you lose, but an absolute legend wants your shirt.

A/N: Just a short one, can’t decide if I like it or not but oh well. (Tried to keep it as real as possible but obviously some things are fictional)

Today’s match was a monumental one, not just on a team level but on a personal level. Today was the Matildas’ Semi-Final match against the Lionesses, it was make or break. It also meant you would be versing your sister today, someone would finish the game better off than the other.

The game was going well, you were even, 2 all, you and Sam had both managed to score and so had Ella Toone and Lauren Hemp, it was looking like a large chuck of added time would be needed and then possibly penalties, that was until Alessia Russo scored England’s third goal in the 86th minute, that was it, there was no way you could come back from that now.

The final whistle blew, and you just collapse onto the ground, you played so well and tried so incredibly hard, but it wasn’t enough. Your team isn’t going to the gold medal match now, there is no guarantee of a medal, all because you couldn’t get a second goal past Mary Earps. The media and public caught many heart-warming moments of Lionesses comforting their fellow Aussie club teammates, Aussies comforting Aussies, but the moment that had grappled the world’s attention was when, one of the Lionesses defender’s and their goalkeeper sat down on the pitch either side of the youngest player of the match, a young Matilda, a complete stranger, club rivals if anything. However, they weren’t strangers, they had been to your house many times, they were your sister’s friends but somehow no one had thought about that. However, them not being strangers doesn’t lessen their gesture in anyway though.

Mary Earps and Millie Bright had come to comfort you, they sat down either side of you, “Hi,” you mumbled to them, wondering if they heard you as your head was in your hands.

“You’re a good player kid, you-” Mary started speaking but was interrupted by you “Obviously not good enough though, I wasn’t good enough score another fucking goal, a single goal” you yelled.

“Hey, none of that, you know you had the most attempts and the most shots on target for the whole game, they said it could even be for the whole tournament, you were fucking incredible,” Millie told you as she pulled you in for a hug.

“You truly tested my abilities today Kid you did really really well, and you should be proud of yourself, one of the hardest strikers to keep for I would say.”

“Thank guys, I’m sorry for yelling, you both played really well today too, well at least Mary did” your comment sent the three of you into fits of laughter, you then chatted to them for a few more minutes, they were friends after all, and even though you did just loose to them you hadn’t seen them in ages.

“We better go,” Millie said as she saw your sister walking over to you “But first, can I swap shirts with you kid?”

“Sorry Millie, but there’s already a shirt with my name on it,” you nodded you head in the direction of your sister.

“I see what you did there, Leah’s not wrong about you being smart too” Mary said as she grabbed your hand to pull you up.

“What can I say, I can’t help being the better Williamson,” “Shit, I think someone heard that, run” Marry said to Millie as she started running.

“I must admit today you were the better Williamson,” you hear you sister’s voice say as she placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you around, “Now, I think that shirt is mine, it does have my name on it after all,” she joked, you both quickly took off you shirts before putting the others on, you both posed for some photos, before you were called over for an interview.

“Well, I think it’s time we let you go, best not miss the team huddle” “Yeah probs shouldn’t miss that one might get in a bit of trouble, thank you it was great chatting with you” “Likewise good luck”

“I think yellow looks better on you,” Tony said as you joined the team.

“Yeah, so do I,” “Well, I’m relieved, saw you talking to Sarina before, got a little worried.”

“Too bad you already gave your shirt away, Beckham messaged me, asked if I reckoned he could have your shirt, he was thinking about coming down from the box,” Sam said, she had a serious tone in her voice so you couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but then you caught your sister talking to a guy out of the corner of your eye, it was the David Beckham.

“Wait, you’re not joking, you’re being real” Sam nodded, “Shit, I need to go get my shirt back from my sister,”

“Nah, it’s all good, he said he’ll just make sure to get your Bronze Medal mat-” “Girls focus, I’m pretty sure I’m more excited about Beckham than you are but can we just debrief quickly?” Tony said cutting Sam off.

“So, I guess this isn’t a good time then?” an ever so familiar voice said as a pair of hands you could recognise from a mile away were place on your shoulders. Everyone looked to the person standing behind you, you didn’t bother you knew exactly who he was, “Tony, if you don’t mind, maybe they’ll listen to the real DB,” you internally cringe at those words, when you were little you idolised Beckham so instead of saying MVP or the real VP as some might say you instead insisted on saying the real DB, you hadn’t heard it in years, luckily your family forgot about it, but obviously someone remembered and told him.

“Take it away,”

“Girls, wait move over let me in,” you all shuffled and he slotted in between you and Charli. “Okay let me start again. Girls you played amazingly today, but you were outplayed, your attempts were good, there were some I can’t believe she managed to save let alone believe they were from a sixteen-year-old,” you blushed “but some of them were too clumsy, a lot of those shots could’ve gone in if they had more power behind them, you hesitated to much, questioned whether you should pass or shoot, your decisions need to be instantaneous, but overall amazing work, great defending and great goal keeping, its England you are always going to concede to England especially to that team right there, their hungry and so are you but you know what the difference is, they believe they can’t get there but I’m not fully convinced you lot are. Great game though, very entertaining, thanks girls, and thanks to the real DB, I’m hoping I get picked for the shirt next game” he said to you, you nod at him, before heading down the tunnel.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #matildas #auswnt

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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Like Clockwork | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: You meet Theodore as a child, but the promises and laughter of your youth are left to be forgotten as war approaches.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw!Reader

Notes: A shorter story that is kind of different from the formatting of my usual writing, but I'm quite happy with the finished result. This one will be a little painful.

The first time you meet Theodore Nott, you’re seven, still with a penchant for mischief and a habit for knocking your knees against the soft grass. It’s by pure accident that you stumble upon the stony-eyed boy who carried himself with an air of heavy responsibility.

He is visibly burdened. Because at a young age, he was already drifting helplessly in the sea of expectations and danger irreparably encroached into the veins of every Nott heir. Perfectly pureblooded, intelligent enough to know their role, but obedient enough to never question it.

At a young age, you still have your saccharine smiles and lackadaisical walk. It’s improper, your mother would scold, but unlike the steely-gazed boy’s parents, your parents carried little heat in their words.

It is during an annual get together among the powerful pureblood families that you are positively certain that Theodore Nott was just the friend for you.

His serious demeanor and watchful eyes left the other heirs unnerved and uninterested in being around him. So when you bound up to the boy, dandelion in hand, extending the sad little stem with an assuring grin, Theodore is sure you’ll be his little solace.

As the years flicker by, your bond only grows stronger, the shared nights stargazing and reading with the flashlights your house elves supplied causing the both of you to become inseparable.

By 11, you’re both bouncing off the walls in excitement. Theodore barely has time to step out of your floo network before you’re nearly tackling him in a hug. To the both of you, Hogwarts was a place where you could both hang out without a time limit, and without the watchful eyes of your parents.

The question of Houses and sortings doesn’t surface until you’re sat in your train compartment with an enthusiastic Blaise and a smug Draco. Your indifference to potentially not getting into Slytherin becomes the central topic of conversation between you four the whole way there.

Theodore promises that it wouldn’t change your friendship, that house colors and its unity would never surpass your tender years of growing up together.

He keeps his promise as you’re sorted into Ravenclaw.

By second year, your parents have a falling out with Theodore’s. Theo’s parents seemed to turn like day and night, no longer comfortable with their heir floundering around with a non-Slytherin. Your parents back you, and as they pull away from the former tight-knit circle of dark pureblood families—they begin to question the ways of the Dark Lord.

Theodore privately disregards his parents' letters, even making it a point to burn them in front of you. In public, Theodore has to play the role of an obedient heir, so you both stop partnering up in your classes and allow everyone to believe that you’re no longer friends.

You were not deterred by the change, understanding Theo’s precarious position and understanding that as long as in private it stayed all the same, you could keep the front up in public.

It is only when third year rolls around that you begin to feel a rift settle between the both of you. The summer was spent with no contact with each other, even by letter, and the school year is filled with awkward little pauses in your conversations.

You make friends with Susan Bones and Gryffindor’s Golden Trio to fill the gap. Theo begins to become a regular presence in Draco’s circle of friends, and he also begins to avoid your pointed glances when they all jeer at Harry.

The rift grows into a cavernous berth by fourth year. Harry’s unceremonious reaping into the Triwizard Tournament seemed like jet fuel for the bigoted, blabbering engine that was Draco’s mouth. Theodore never steps in, hovering to show his silent support for the Malfoy heir.

Your disappointment hangs heavy over your heart, yet, you soon force yourself to forget it as the tournament wraps up with the delivery of Cedric Diggory’s body from the maze. Nothing left of the kind, free-spirited boy—only an unseeing, glassy stare that would haunt you for the rest of the summer nights.

Harry’s cries about Voldemort’s resurrection spurs storms of scrutiny and hatred, venomous words piling on your friend as you watch helplessly. No one was willing to believe him.

But as the year ends and you see an uncertain Draco stride alongside a pale-faced Theodore, you’re sure many people agree with Harry in the shadows.

Fifth year wipes away your carefree grins and echoing laughter, replacing the pieces of your old-self with fragments of someone unfamiliar. You’re prone to bouts of anger and episodes of self-withdrawal, unable to shake away the chronic stupor.

Your stormy tides only grow in power as Umbridge begins to gain gradual power at Hogwarts. This only leads to an outcome that has you bonding with Harry over your shared torture in the woman’s office.

Fifth year sees Theodore sporting uncharacteristic worry on his face, his cold eyes drawn to follow your every move.

The strain that ripped your friendship apart at the seams, seems to disappear one night after one of your detentions. As you are walking back to your dorm, clutching your bleeding, irritated hand, a firm grip hauls you into one of the dark alcoves of the castle.

You draw your wand in surprise, and you only lower it once you see the culprit, your heart bleeding over again.

Theodore doesn’t speak as he gently applies Murtlap Essence to your wounds, running his thumb around the angry letters. And no words need to be exchanged as he’s pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you in his arms, a silent reassurance of his presence.

The rest of your fifth year plays out the same way. Your friendship with Theo was mending slowly, but surely, an unspoken understanding seeming to bridge the gap that tore you both apart for years.

By the end of fifth year, you’re both meeting up often in the shadows of the castle, talking about nonsensical topics and sharing lingering touches. The ache that finds residence in your heart only seems to persist as you long for more.

The last week of fifth year, an owl you recognize as belonging to Theodore’s father, swoops into the hall along with the other owls, dropping a prim envelope onto the boy’s empty plate. You see Theodore’s eyes turn stormy, his grip going white on the paper, and he only tears his gaze away when Millicent Bulstrode pats his shoulder. Your stomach sinks.

The last week of fifth year has you in a whirlwind of fury again as Theodore stops showing up in your meeting spots, returning to completely ignoring your existence.

You’re left heartbroken and confused.

Your answers arrive after a long summer filled with endless night terrors and heart ache. As you sit in the dining hall at the beginning of your sixth year, you have to fight back the stinging in your eyes as you hear a few girls whispering near you.

“Didn’t you hear? Nott and Bulstrode are betrothed, my mum says the ceremony is next summer.”

Sixth year is filled with constant reminders of the couple, loneliness flooding your lungs and threatening to drag you beneath the surface. You’re barely staying afloat when Harry approaches you with the burden of war, something you’re readily jumping into to get your mind away from the Slytherin boy.

When Dumbledore falls from the astronomy tower and is pronounced dead, you feel your whole world flip.

You have little time to panic before a familiar pair of hands is guiding you to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Theodore’s words come out rushed and shaky, but you manage to snap back to reality long enough to understand him.

Theo is running his hands down your cheeks, pressing his face closer to yours as tears collect in his eyes.

The engagement between him and Millicent was a front, he needed to do it to please his father– to avoid getting marked by Voldemort. Draco is not as fortunate. Theodore admits to helping the Malfoy heir with smuggling in the death eaters, but he rushed away immediately to make sure you were safe.

The news has you staring up at him in confusion and he begins to profusely whisper words of apologies, hugging your shocked body to his.

As you both hold each other in the darkness of the forest, you know that chaos was raining upon the world outside the safety of the towering trees.

It is at the end of your sixth year in the forest when you and Theo share your first kiss, words of promises and apologies whispered between you two.

Seventh year has you hunting for horcruxes with your friends, shouldering the burden in order to free the Wizarding World from the hellscape created by Voldemort. When your journey brings you back to the castle, your group splits up to cover more ground. Harry leaves for Voldemort, and you leave in search of your own Slytherin.

Your reunion is nothing short of tears and relieved touches, hearts drumming loudly at the adrenaline of war and the joy of finding each other. Theodore presses kisses to your face, unbothered by the shocked looks you both receive from other students.

In that moment, it felt like you were both children again.

It’s 10 minutes after Voldemort arrives and all hell breaks loose, rubble raining from meters above, bodies dropping just as quickly.

You can’t find Theodore anywhere, but you promise to look for him once it all ends, no matter who comes out victorious.

You don’t find him.

It’s 5 months after the Battle of Hogwarts, rebuilding the castle takes a collective effort, and some surviving older students settle for odd jobs, others deciding to finish their last year at the fractured castle.

It’s 5 months after the battle when Theodore finds you.

His left ring finger is bare, eyes watering as he walks. The flower in his hand spins around as he nervously fiddles with his fingers.

He promised that he would find you, and he did.

The leaves cascade in waves of bright green, spring rolling in and highlighting the era of change to come now that Voldemort is gone.

Theo sits on the grass, his flower extended from his hand, and he lets his tears fall for the first time in the new era.

A promised change is coming to the Wizarding World, and things will get better for the war-hardened citizens.

Yet, it doesn’t feel that way, not when Theodore has to kneel down and place the lonesome flower on your polished grave--not when he has no anchor to keep him grounded in the new world.

And he suddenly remembers when you were both seven and naive, feeling unobstructed by the fears of the real world.

It is when he’s seven that he vows to protect you, no matter the cost. He vowed he would burn the world down to preserve your joyful smiles and warm eyes.

But it was the fires that he lit which consumed you in the end.

So, when he’s 18, Theodore Nott closes himself away from the world, and he swears to himself he would never make the same mistakes again.

When Theodore Nott is 18, he resumes carrying the weight of his burdens and guilt alone.

When Theo is 18, he wishes you were 18 with him too.

masterlist

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you

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asirensrage · 20 days

Text

The Lesser of Two Evils

Title: The Lesser of Two Evils Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Haitani Ran x OC x Haitani Rindou, Haitani Ran x Haitani Rindou Word count: 3k Warnings: Dark!fic. Incest. Dub-con. Mention of child abuse/abusive father. Murder. Violence. PTSD. Coercion. Jealousy. Unhealthy relationships. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is a third Haitani. She loves her brothers. They love her more. Written for Fright Night: Forbidden Fruits collab for @enchantedforest-network "The theme of this Collab is Taboo topics. Murder, stepcest, incest, noncon - bring your most rotten fruits to the table."

Notes: I think this is the darkest thing I've ever written. It turned out a lot darker than I intended, so much so that I needed to edit things out because part of it was too dark for the event lol. I tried to fix it so it fit, alluding to things but never straight up saying what happened. It was a result of thinking what would drive the oc into accepting this. I hope I did it right. Apologies to anyone who reads this lol. I have so many regrets but I also enjoyed the challenge.

In case it needs to be said, I don't condone anything that happens in this fic. It's fiction.

HEED THE WARNINGS. seriously. read them.

There is a third Haitani.

A younger sister born from a last chance to rekindle a marriage that never should have existed in the first place. Her brothers were old enough to want to leave her behind, venturing into the world while Renka remained in the dilapidated apartment. It was a blessing when it was only her and her brothers. A miracle when she was alone.

With a family like hers, it was easy to slip through the cracks, to fall silent and let her brothers claim the spotlight they always dreamed about, the ones they whispered to each other about in the dead of night when the three of them were curled into the one bed they had as children. Ran wanted to be famous. Rindou wanted to be strong and go into music. He wanted to own a club that everyone would line up for ages to go into like they saw when they were out at night. Renka…just wanted to be happy. And safe. She didn’t tell her brothers the last part.

Whenever they were together, her brothers were glued to her side. They grinned at her, messed up her hair and teased her the way they teased each other. Rindou and Renka hid together when they’d accidentally wake up Ran, who was a demon no matter how old he was, when he woke up before he wanted. Ran promised her that he’d dress her in the fashions they’d see in the windows they passed. He swore that no one would look down at them, at her, the way he saw others do when they went out.

The Haitanis were not well off. Not anymore. The broken marriage of their parents, the infidelity that became more and more apparent, left their home in shambles in more ways than one. Ran swore to himself that he’d make things better for his younger siblings.

Ran and Rindou love their sister. When she was five, Rindou smashed a bottle over their father’s head. Ran used an umbrella to smash his face, leaving him struggling to breathe through his broken nose, before he threatened the man who helped give them life. “You ever look at her like that again, I’ll kill you.”

They pulled Renka out of the apartment and kept her between them before they treated her to some ice cream they bought with money they stole.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Not you’re fault you’re so cute,” Ran teased. “Ever happens again, you tell us.”

“Or at least scream,” Rindou adds. “Someone will help you.”

Renka nods but inwardly she already knows she doesn’t want to cause more trouble. She doesn’t want her brothers who are trying to look after her to get hurt. They’re just kids. What can they do against adults? She feels ancient and young and too aware of what the world holds already.

Their father leaves them alone for the most part. Their mother disappears, taking off to a new life as if she doesn’t abandon her own children. Renka is left with her two brothers who protect her, whispering promises to her that the life they deserve is waiting for them.

🌂

When she’s nine, her brothers are arrested. She doesn’t get to see them. Not right away. She’s left alone in an empty apartment, confused as to why they haven’t returned. It takes two days before she finally gets the news…and their father comes home.

She can’t stop him. Not from coming in or staying. Renka does her best to stay out of sight and out of mind, trying to find a way to get to the detention center to see her brothers. She needs to know what to do. She needs their reassurance that they’ll be released soon. Her home is not safe without them.

Renka is nine years old when she runs away from home.

🌂

She waits until the bruises fade before she finally manages to find a way to visit her brothers. One by one. Rindou comes first, takes one look at her and asks “What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing, everything is fine,” she lies. He looks like he doesn’t believe her, but he tells her where they hid some cash despite the risk of being recorded. He tells her that he worries about her by asking what she’s eating, how school is going and if there’s anyone whose ass they need to kick when they get out. Renka forces herself to smile and tells him that she misses him. They’ll be out in less than a year. She just has to wait for them. He leaves after pressing a kiss to his palm and his palm to the glass. She reaches back, pretending she can feel it. She issues being safe at night, tucked between them. She can’t sleep anymore.

Ran arrives before her, smiling widely at her until he actually looks at her. He doesn’t need to say anything. He’s five years older than her and Renka has never been able to withstand the tension of his stare, the anticipation of him waiting for her eats at her insides until she finally blurts it out. “Ourfathercamehome.”

She half hopes he doesn’t hear her or thinks she said something else, but the way his face changes tells her he understands. She has never seen her brother look at her like that. The fury in his expression makes even the guards straighten.

“What did he do?”

Renka swallows and doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. Ran’s anger is palpable and she can’t stop the way she shrinks down in her seat.

“Tell me you’re not staying there.”

“I–I’m not,” she says quickly. “I…I left.”

He doesn't ask where she’s staying. She has friends, but that’s tricky. She can’t be sent back. She can’t.

“Come back tomorrow. I’ll have a place for you then. Rindou tell you about the stash?”

She ends up crying, making Ran do a complete 180 in his reactions as he coos at her, tells her she’s strong and he’s proud that she’s protecting herself. That he’ll take care of everything. That no one will ever touch her again. She needs to trust her nii-sans.

Within two days, she’s introduced to someone named Kakucho. He’s tall, but quiet and kind. He’s only a couple of years older than her, but he shows her a space where she can stay with a lock on the door and teaches her more ways that she can block it to ensure no one else comes in. He gives her multiple escape routes and doesn’t ask questions. Even from inside their prison, her brothers found her protection. They continue to take care of her.

🌂

When they’re released, when she’s finally reunited with her protectors, both of the brothers hug her. They bury their faces into their hair and she can’t help but cry, even though she doesn’t want to. She’s just relieved.

“We’re so sorry,” they whisper to her. They’re sorry for getting caught, for leaving her alone, for not being there when she needed them. They promise never to leave her again. She doesn’t believe them, but she clings to them and wishes it’s true.

🌂

Ran and Rindou stick to their word until they’re arrested for the events of the Kanto Incident. She’s fourteen this time and more self-sufficient. More importantly, despite their aim for success, her brothers have arranged for her safety. She knows now where they stored money that she can use to keep their apartment paid for. She’s safe because her brother’s reminded all of Roppongi why what is theirs stays theirs in any absence. Her father cannot come back from the dead.

By the time she’s in her twenties, her brothers are released and giving her the life they’ve always promised. She lives in an apartment that suits all of them and while she has her own room, it’s not uncommon for her to find her way into the bed of one of her brothers just to sleep by their side. She still has nightmares about the way she was woken that one night as a child, but being with her brothers chases the monsters away. They are scarier than anything else she’s come across and they are always in her defence.

🌂

She doesn’t completely realize when it begins as it starts small. A kiss to the cheek that lands on the corner of her lips. A hand slipping under her shirt to rest at her waist because they’re cold when they’re all curled up on the couch together. Them being curled around her when she wakes up, one of their legs between hers. It doesn’t seem like anything because it’s not just her. Her brothers treat each other with the same casual closeness they show her.

She doesn’t care. Not really. Her brothers are the only ones she trusts. The only ones who have willingly murdered anyone who touched her. She was there when they beat their father to death. They held her any time she woke up screaming or crying, and pressed kisses to her hair as they promised they would never let anyone hurt her ever again.

And they didn’t. They never let anyone else near her. Their jealousy was obvious when they first caught her talking to a boy at her high school and continued until they banned her from their clubs unless she went with them. She was only allowed to dance with them, pressed in between her brothers as they grinded against her and told her she was the prettiest one there. She always would be. Their praise made her stomach flip and even though she knows it’s wrong, she can’t push them away. Fear of their abandonment tinged with a desire to keep them close makes her easy to mould…makes it easy to give in.

She’s twenty-two when one of them finally makes a move that can’t be ignored.

Ran presses his lips to hers with ease, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. She can’t stop the way she freezes in place, the way she stares at him, but her brother tucks a hair behind her ear. “Don’t wait up for us, princess. We’ll be back before dawn.”

“Ran, you just–” she cuts herself off, unsure if she wants to actually say it and make it real.

“I can’t kiss the one I love?” he asks, teasingly. “You want me to stop, I will.” He leans forward, lips brushing her ear as he whispers, “We’re not him, Ren. We’ll never hurt you.” He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Think about us while we’re gone.”

Rindou, never one to let his brother win, kisses her next. Quickly, before she even realizes he is, he pulls away and leaves first. It makes Ran laugh as he follows him out.

Renka is left reeling, torn by the fear that if she refuses they’ll leave her and the logic that tells her they’ve always been at her side. They’ve kept her between them for years. They wouldn’t abandon her if she says no. And…she doesn’t want to lose them. No matter what they’ve been through, they survived because of each other. She knows it’s unhealthy and it’ll never be anything they can boast about, but the only people she can picture in her future are her brothers. The only ones she’ll ever feel safe falling asleep next to are Ran and Rindou. It’s a terrible but easy choice to make.

🌂

They go slow as if they expect her to disappear, to run from them as she ran from her father. The difference is that while she ran from him, she was running towards them. They are her sanctuary. Her home.

For all the violence they cause, despite the blood on their hands, they’re soft with her. Only her.

Ran kisses her with slow, open-mouthed kisses, savouring in the way she whimpers into his lips. He treats her delicately, taking things at a pace that sometimes feels excruciating. He builds her up and pulls away until she finally breaks and yanks him back to her. She’s pretty sure he wants her to want him, to crave him the way he claims to feel for her.

Rindou kisses with desperation, as if he expects her to tell him to stop. He’s carefully attuned to her every move, every sound she makes. Rindou makes her feel wanted in a different way and sometimes, if it feels too much, he slows down. He’s happy enough to share her breath, waiting until she’s ready. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t put the words into the air, but she knows he’s scared she’s chooses Ran over him. As if that was ever possible. She’s theirs and they are hers.

The change is subtle but extreme.

They walk in without knocking. Rindou’s hand rests between her thighs when they sit together on the couch and Ran curls up with his face pressed against her breasts after she crawls into his bed. They kiss her without reservation and stop hiding the way they kiss each other. The first time it happens, that she walks in on how Ran has Rindou pinned to the wall, hands on his hips as he grinds against him and they look like they’re attempting to devour each other, she stands there watching. She’s not sure if it’s in surprise, shock or…something else, but she couldn’t look away.

It’s Rindou who sees her first. He grins at the sight of her watching before saying something to Ran that she doesn’t catch. Ran pulls away from sucking marks into Rindou’s neck. Ran looks up, gaze half-lidded as he looks over at her. “Wanna join, Princess?”

“I didn’t know…”

Rindou scoffs at her. “How’d you think we dealt with wanting you? With being locked up?”

Ran moves his hand to Rindou’s throat, pressing in and cutting him off from saying anything further. Rindou moans into it. “What our brother is trying to say is that there’s no one better for any of us than each other.”

She watches as her eldest brother gets on his knees before Rindou and undoes his belt. Rindou’s head falls back against the wall as Ran pulls him out of whatever underwear he’s wearing. Renka has felt her brother’s cocks hard against her before, mainly when she woke up with them pressed up against her, but this is different.

Rindou’s hand gathers Ran’s braids as he takes him in his mouth. Renka has only seen sex as something damaging, but the sight of Ran smiling as he takes Rindou’s cock in his mouth, the way Rindou groans and tries to thrust into him…reaffirms the idea that it’s not with her brothers. That the two of them have only ever been protective and kind. That even in this, as she watches them in this moment, they take care of each other. Of her.

🌂

Ran is the first. Of course he is.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs against her skin. She’s lying in his bed, shirt off and looking up at him. It’s late in the night. She woke up from a nightmare, not needing to sneak in because she was already in his bed. She barely has her own at this point. “Tell me if you need to stop, okay, princess?”

She nods because she trusts Ran, even if the feeling of his body on top of hers sends her heart racing. It’s different than before. She wants this now. She knows that. She trusts Ran to take care of her. Her brother always has.

“Promise. I wanna hear it.”

“I…” Renka takes a deep breath. “I promise.”

“Good.”

He takes his time, bestowing praises against her skin as he carefully maps out every curve she lets him explore. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. He leaves marks as if he’s leaving a trail for Rindou to eventually follow. He encourages her to be vocal, that he wants to hear her. No one is covering her mouth this time. It’s just her and her big brother in this moment.

Ran buries his face between her thighs. He encourages her to bury her hands into his hair that’s loose and unbraided. Renka has never felt anything like this. The few instances of touching herself in the privacy of her room, exploring in hopes of erasing the assault that felt branded into her, never felt like Ran’s mouth does now.

He breaks her apart, makes her see stars behind her eyelids, and when he buries himself into her, it’s by her choice. He lies back on the bed and gives her the option of going further, of riding him. It’s nothing like she’s ever experienced and she somehow loves her brother all the more for giving her the choice…and the power to choose.

🌂

Rindou is not far behind. Once Ran has broken the final barrier between them, once she’s comfortable with that boundary being crossed, he follows with ease. He takes his time with her, but it’s different. Where Ran knew he was bridging a gap that was created by their father and morally by society, Rindou crosses it without looking back.

He fucks her on the couch.

He’s careful with her, don’t get her wrong, but while Ran lures her in with slow, mind-blowing sex, Rindou teaches her how to enjoy it faster. Harder. Until the only thing she knows is how to call his name while her legs are around his waist, begging him for more. He shows her how his weight on top of her isn’t a bad thing, how she can still have the control like that and how good it can feel giving up that control to someone she trusts.

Her confidence grows with the attention they lavish on her and it doesn’t take long before she finds herself between them in more ways than just dancing on the club floor. They teach her everything they think she’s missed. How she likes to be touched, pleasured and teased…and how she enjoys touching them in return. No matter how often they leave hickeys on her neck or bruises on her thighs, she feels nothing but loved by them. It doesn’t matter that the world says it’s wrong because Renka’s life has always been defined by the times with her brothers and without. She has always been safer with them.

There is a third Haitani.

She loves her brothers. Her brothers love her. More than they’re supposed to. They always have.

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties

I'm not tagging anyone else lol

#fic: the lesser of two evils #tw incest #ran haitani x rindou haitani x oc #ran x oc #rindou x oc #haitani ran x oc #haitani fic #tokyo revengers fic #tw.incest #dark!fic

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nteyamsully · 1 year

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dad!neteyam were teenage reader gets into a fight and shes like really fucking angry and only neteyam can calm her down and its just loads off comfort and cutesy shit to heal my daddy issues

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

thank you for the request anon ! instead of teenage reader, i decided to make the reader as the mom but it still focuses on neteyam and his daughter. i just think it'd be cute too to have it from the mom perspective. i hope you enjoyed this <3 a part 2 is coming !

summary they say a fathers' first daughter is a female version of him. neteyam begs to differ because his princess has way too much fire in her than he did.

pairing dad! neteyam x oc! daughter, neteyam x reader

word count 1.7k

warnings edited, neteyam just being a dad girl, suggestive content, just youngest children doing what they want, mentions of bullying, violence such as punching, blood

glossary yawntutsyìp (darling), pa'li (direhorse)

PART 1 ; PART 2 (wip)

You always had believed that having four kids that weren't too old apart would be a wonderful family balance. The second child would have someone to look up to but also have the responsibility of looking after their younger siblings, the third child would not have to rely only on one older sibling but rather two, and the youngest would be able to learn and receive different insights on things from their older siblings.

Neteyam said that your ideas were always beautiful and well thought. He loved the idea of having a big family with you. And the two of you did.

Nutxe, your oldest child. While he has his mother's attributes, he behaves precisely like his father. His personality always makes you think of Neteyam. Ki'täm, your second child, was a blessing from Eywa a year later. Identical to his father in every way. Your mate has always made jokes about how three Neteyams would protect you because of how each of his sons were like him.

But you didn't stop there; two years later, you had another boy. Ateyo, your son who resembles you. Unlike his older brothers, he would rather spend his time in the deepest part of the forest. Violence had never been his thing, so becoming a warrior didn't come naturally to him.

A year later, Lili was born. Neteyam loves his sons with his whole heart, but when he his daughter came out of your womb, a new sense of protectiveness awakened in him. It was already clear to you that your babygirl would be a daddy’s girl.

She was constantly spoiled by Neteyam. He was always giving in to her doe eyes, which she used against him since she knew her father would never say no to her. Even as she was growing, she continued using the same tactic.

Your now-teenage children were leaving the hut as you watched them and spoke enthusiastically about being approved to stay a litte late after eclipse. You sighed disapprovingly and looked at your partner.

Incongruously, Neteyam smiled. He moved up to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he encircled your waist with his arms. “They have grown,” he solemnly said.

“No, Mr. Sully,” you laughed. “You do not get to escape this by throwing the trump card. You have to learn how to say no to Lili.”

“I cant believe she is thirteen now,” he sighs.

“Neteyam!” you exclaimed, slapping his hand that rested on your hip.

Your mate chuckles, digging his face on your neck. “I hear you, yawntutsyìp. But know it is difficult when our daughter is exactly like you. Ateyo doesn’t use it against me, but Lili does.”

“And she knows it. It almost feels like if our youngest child attempts murder, you would let her get away with it because she is your favourite.”

Neteyam pouted as he took a step back, holding your shoulders gently as he turns you around. “Lili would never attempt murder.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Enough.” Neteyam pulls you closer to him by tugging the band of your loincloth. “The children wont be here soon. Let’s do something fun.”

Your hands rested on his chest. Before a word could leave out of your mouth, he pressed his lips against yours. You didn’t realise how much you’ve missed having moments like this with Neteyam. It has been far too long.

��Cant believe that you managed to get Dad to say yes,” smiled Ki'täm.

Because their father was aware of the risks posed in Pandora, it was occasionally challenging to win his permission. As lovely as the forest is, it is also dangerous.

Nutxe scoffed, “That’s because this little manipulative baby sister of ours did her magic.” He playfully glared at her before pinching her cheeks.

Lili hissed and slapped his hand away. “Be thankful that I had dad say yes because I’m about to make your life more exciting than it was when you were my age,” she says proudly.

While rolling his eyes, Ateyo kept silent. His sister having anything she wants was never something he liked. At least when she hasn't done anything to deserve it. Never did their father treat them unfairly, though.

Neteyam promised that he would treat all of his children equally. The intense pressure from his father that he experienced as a teenager was something he didn't want with his children. While Neteyam adores his father, he can't help but admit that he was cruel at times.

Ki'täm noticed his younger brothers’ silence, observing how a frown formed on his face. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. “What is wrong? I thought you would love this.”

Ateyo clicked his tongue. “Mom didn’t look like she was happy about it. And you,” he looked at Lili, “stop acting so spoiled.”

Lili rolled her eyes. “This again. Jealous that I get to do whatever I want?”

“Why would I be jealous for being a spoiled brat?” he argued.

“What the hell is your problem?” she exclaimed. “You should thank me that you get to explore the forest around more.”

Ateyo clenched his jaw, holding himself back from raising his voice. He could feel his anger rising by the second and he knew the choice to keep his mouth shut is better. Lili never backs down from anything she sees as a challenge, and by the looks of her face, she sees her argument with her brother as one too.

He always had to be the bigger person between them.

Nutxe pushes his arm in between them quickly. “Stop. You are attracting other people,” he whispered harshly before looking around, making sure that his grandfather isn’t on sight to witness this.

Jake had witnessed far too many of their disputes and had reprimanded them much too frequently when they're involved in violent tussles with other kids. He is Olo’eyktan, it is his duty to make sure there is peace and harmony within the clan. It's not simple at all, especially with his grandchildren causing problems all around.

Just as Nutxe started to feel relieved that both of his siblings listened to him, it disappeared immediately when he heard a voice laced with venom speak up.

“Don’t bother, Nutxe. Your baby sister loves all the attention.”

Risei. She was the bully of the clan. When Lili was a little girl, she witnessed her wrongfully verbally abusing a young na'vi. They were ridiculed only for their personality trait and shyness. Lili reacted angrily to the Risei's audacity by confronting her, however it didn't end happily ever after. And that was how their rivalry began.

“Do not start, Risei,” Lili snarled, her fists clenched. Ki'täm held her forearm and urged her to walk away, but she didn't budge.

Risei mockingly laughed, “Is that supposed to be a threat? You look like a baby pa’li who reacts when they don’t get what they want!” She peered over her little group, seeing them chuckle at her words which made her ego boost.

Ki'täm begged, “Lili.” He didn’t want to get in trouble yet, not when he wanted to explore the forest after eclipse.

“Ah, I forget,” Risei snapped her fingers in fake realization, “You get what you want. You must not know how it feels like, is it why you’re acting like this? Did daddy not give you what you want?”

And something snapped in the youngest sibling. Lili pushed Ki'täm's hold off of her and scowled at Risei. The girl was too busy laughing with her companions to notice her menacing aura. Risei was caught off guard when she felt something hard make contact with her nose, which caused her to lose her footing and collapse to the ground.

“I am so sick of you,” Lili seethed. She didn’t give her time to process and hovered above Risei, continuously slamming her fist on to her.

Risei’s friends hissed and were about to grab Lili, but Ki'täm quickly wrapped his arms on one of them to stop them from getting near. “Nutxe, Ateyo, grab the other two!” he yelled.

Ateyo groaned. Following what his older brother instructed was not the best course of action, but at this point it seemed to be the only option. If a girl attacked his sister, he would gladly be violent for her, but he knows his father and grandfather would skin him alive. As a result, he followed Ki'täm's suggestion.

Nutxe rolled his eyes at their stupidity. He quickly stepped in front of one of Risei’s friends, preventing them from interfering. “Do not,” he ordered, which thankfully they listened. He turned back to his sister, seeing that she had completely executed her anger.

“Lili!” yelled Nutxe. He attempted to pull his sister off her by the shoulders, however, his efforts were futile because she withheld great strength. She’s not recognised as potentially the next best warrior of their clan for no reason.

But the calls of her name were unheard to her. All she could see is red. Truthfully, she wasn’t angry with Ateyo. Her disagreements with him were monotonous and repetitious, which irritated her. Risei had always bothered her and each time, she bottles up her anger to refrain herself from going feral. Bottling all that anger was clearly a bad idea because it still exploded violently.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!” A loud and authorative voice boomed. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop Lili. “Hey! That’s enough!” A pair of strong arms engulfed around her, carrying her off the ground. She growled and kicked her feet in the air.

“Lili te Suli (Y/N)’ite. That’s enough!”

Her eyes were still filled with rage, but she continued to breathe heavily. Jake studied Risei's features. A cut on her lip and brow, a broken and bleeding nose, and an eye that is beginning to bruise. He shook his head slowly.

“I am fine,” Lili grumbled in his arms.

Jake dropped her on the ground lightly, staring at his granddaughter intently. “Yeah, I could see that.”

Lo'ak arrived on the scene, wondering as to why everyone was gathered in a circle. His father, whose hands were on his hips and who had his niece in his line of sight, caught his attention first. Then he noticed a female who was weeping with a totally messed up face.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, eyes wide.

Jake rubbed his temple. “Lo’ak, call your brother and his mate to meet in the family hut,” he looked at the three boys who stood in their positions nervously, “the rest of you follow me.”

Lili remained glued to the spot while keeping an eye on Risei. She was completely guilt-free. She had it coming to her. She deserved it after repeatedly harassing and tormenting defenceless people.

“Lili te Suli (Y/N)’ite. Lets go!”

The voice of the Olo’eyktan made her move. She knew she’s fucked when her parents will find out and her doe eyes wont work this time.

don't forget to reblog, like, and comment your thoughts <3

#avatar fanfiction #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully fic #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #loak fanfiction #loak sully

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admirableadmiranda · 1 year

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I keep seeing the idea that Jiang Cheng is disliked or hated for his actions because "Jiang Cheng Antis” refuse to acknowledge ugly reactions to trauma, or victims who aren’t perfect, basically citing that he should be forgiven more than we do because not everyone is going to react the same to pain and trauma and just because his reactions aren’t perfect doesn’t mean that he should be held accountable for his actions, any of them, and us calling his actions wrong or abuse is us in fact being terrible.

I want to refute this idea for a few reasons:

First off, while I can’t speak for everyone, I know that I and my friends don’t think that his initial reactions being kinda bad are necessarily damning. Nobody is going to be perfect, sometimes when we are stuck in the worst parts of our lives, we do things that we will later regret in the process of surviving those times. It doesn’t really make it okay and we should understand if the people who are around us in those times don’t want to be around us anymore after that, but it isn’t a death knell that he reacts really poorly after the initial fall of Lotus Pier and the death of his parents and everyone he’s grown up with. I have forgiven characters for doing worse, but proving that it was their worst and turning around after that.

The problem with that part is that he doesn’t turn anything around. He never apologizes for strangling Wei Wuxian, he continues to turn the blame for what happened on people who weren’t involved even after getting to kill Wen Zhuliu and torture Wen Chao to death, holding Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and, for a time, Jin Zixuan as also being responsible even though none of them were, even though he knows this and adjusts his opinion later to drop Jin Zixuan out of the blame, even though he later adds Wen Ning to his list of those to blame despite Wen Ning rescuing him from Lotus Pier and sheltering him. It isn’t a worst moment of his life, brought on by trauma and pain, it’s just the start of his sliding slope downward.

Second off is the idea that this should exonerate him of all of his actions. Look at him! He lost his parents and his clan to war by the Wens! He has suffered so much, becoming a clan leader so young in the fires of war!!!

Except... he’s not the only one, not by a long shot. Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang all have their fathers killed and their homes attacked by the Wens as well. Both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen also ascend at very young ages, no one was over twenty when they took up their positions, and at the end of the novel, Jin Ling is even younger when he takes on his own clan leader position. Also he isn’t the only one to go into war so young, Wei Wuxian is a whole five days older than he is, and the whole jianghu falls into war against the Wens, no doubt with other fighters who also lost their homes and families in the process.

It isn’t that it isn’t impressive that he manages to pull it together in the face of all that’s happening, it’s that he’s not the only person by any means to suffer this trauma. Wei Wuxian goes through the exact same journey that he does, but when this argument comes up, it’s always just for why Jiang Cheng shouldn’t be blamed, not about how their whole generation lost so much to a war that their parents left to them by refusing to do anything before even when they all saw the signs of what Wen Ruohan was doing.

The third part is that there’s apparently no limit or expiration date on how long people have to forgive him for doing whatever he wants to do. His trauma is a reason for him to treat people however he wants for as long as he wants, and they should just put up with it because he’s suffering and not all pain is beautiful.

But by the time Wei Wuxian comes back to life, it’s been almost twenty years. A whole generation, long enough for Jiang Cheng to watch his nephew grow to almost adulthood. The world as a whole is changed, he himself has transformed Lotus Pier into a whole new place; and it wasn’t because the Wens had destroyed everything, Wei Wuxian no longer recognizes it, meaning that this happened after he died. The general attitude that JC stans have towards Wei Wuxian is that he shouldn’t hold Jiang Cheng leading a siege against him because it’s been long enough, he should get over it by now. But Jiang Cheng apparently should still get to act without hesitation or consideration of others and their own pain because he is suffering, he is an imperfect victim. It doesn’t matter what else anyone else has gone through and it is unreasonable to hold him to task because he lost his family.

The whole point of poor trauma reactions is that they are moments, responses in time to events. It is one thing for Jiang Cheng to react poorly right after his family is killed and his home invaded. But he gets worse over the course of the story. The day of the attack, he strangles Wei Wuxian. That’s one thing. But three years later he turns on Wei Wuxian, declares him an enemy of the world, tells him to let the Wens be slaughtered even though they are no longer at war, later declares war on Wei Wuxian and personally leads a siege to kill him. In the interim, a time of peace in which supposedly all of his enemies are dead, he hunts down people who he claims to be demonic cultivators and people that Wei Wuxian is possessing and tortures them to death, all the while doing very little to help his people as he will only intervene once someone has already died to the problem. When Wei Wuxian returns to life thirteen years after he died, seventeen years after the war, when Jiang Cheng is literally double the age that this began, despite him deliberately trying to avoid Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng seeks him out multiple times specifically to hurt him, first trying to kill him with a whip that can destroy spirits possessing bodies, then tying him up and torturing him with a dog. Later he leads a second siege upon Wei Wuxian, who still has done nothing to him aside from try to avoid him before later attacking him and Lan Wangji by first demanding that they leave, then refusing to let them do so, driving Wei Wuxian to a qi deviation (which can be fatal, that’s how Nie Mingjue died) and attacking Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with Zidian while Wei Wuxian is unconcious before Wen Ning stops him. Even in the temple, he’s still demanding that Wei Wuxian play by his rules of debts, he’s upset because he knows that he has gone so much farther than anyone has any right to and he has nothing to hold over Wei Wuxian’s head anymore.

Fifteen years of hurting everyone around him isn’t a poor trauma response. That’s deliberate and chosen. That is what he wants to do. It is a clear line of events where in the end, the trauma is an excuse over anything else.

If it had ended at the beginning of this list, Jiang Cheng would be a very different character and Modaozushi would be a very different novel. If it were just a trauma reaction and he didn’t want to hurt anyone in the long run, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

But you cannot exonerate everything with the fact that his parents died when he was seventeen. Especially not when we have so many other people who react in so many other ways to the same pain. It is frankly ridiculous that people think he is the only one to suffer in the story, even though it is clear that no one escapes the novel unscathed and a hell of a lot of people die. Sometimes even at his hands or by his orders.

Jiang Cheng is not unsympathetic. I can understand what hurts he feels, at least to an extent. But an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind and he just keeps doing it. And then his stans show up and claim that it’s fine for him to want to kill everyone who he hates (not necessarily everyone who’s even done him wrong, and they certainly like to ignore everything he does to them) because he’s an ugly trauma victim.

He may be that, at the start. But twenty years down the line, when he gets excited at the thought of getting to torture people, that isn’t a trauma reaction anymore.

That’s a choice.

#mdzs #canon jiang cheng #wei wuxian #get back in the antagonist bin #another day another jc stan #long post

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bookofbonbon · 2 years

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Love tta!! if you don’t mind me asking, how long have aemond x reader been sleeping in the same room?

Hi! Thank you ♡ and of course you can ask!

tta headcanons: the evolution of sleeping - aemond targaryen.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

Word Count: 800+.

Through The Ages Masterlist.

Aemond fatigues faster than most because it takes him a lot more energy than the average citizen to perform his day-to-day tasks after losing his eye.

It started out quite early on after meeting him - Aemond would nap during the day, and you would either go about your day as normal or continue with your studies in his room while he slept.

Then one day you end up falling asleep on the chaise lounge in his room before him so, he just leaves you there and goes to his bed (he makes sure to bar the door to his room beforehand though, he isn’t stupid enough to risk someone walking in).

From there, it just becomes a part of your routine to nap together depending on what the two of you get up to in the day.

You always sleep on the lounge and Aemond in his bed.

One afternoon you wake up with a stiff neck though so, Aemond has a larger, more comfortable lounge brought to his room.

You both also just sleep wherever you are at the time whether that be under a tree in the gardens or in the family room.

On the anniversary of your maiming however, you always struggle to sleep.

Something that Aemond was aware of; you'd spoken to him before at length about how bad the nightmares could be.

It’s particularly bad in your seventeenth year and Aemond’s sixteenth because you weren’t getting any rest during the day either.

So bad that Aemond finds you wandering the Red Keep in the middle of the night by chance upon his return from Old Town on dragon back with Aegon.

Aemond insists you come with him for a warm drink (Aegon making a comment about how much of a sap Aemond is toward you but, it goes over your head because you’re so tired).

At first you refuse because of the late hour but, Aemond reminds you that he’d just been on dragon back and still had quite a bit of adrenaline coursing through him so, he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

Sneaking in through the hidden door, you enjoy your warm drink while Aemond cleans himself up.

You wander his room while he does that and notice an unfamiliar book on his bedside table.

Taking a seat on his bed, you open up the book and begin to read - the book making no sense as you slowly begin to drift off until your sound asleep in his bed.

There are several conflicting emotions going through Aemond when he returns to the sight of you sleeping in his bed.

Yearning (and desire but he quashes it) at the sight of you in his bed.

Relief because you were finally getting some sleep.

Panic when he spots his journal resting on your chest.

It’s only opened to the third page so, there’s some relief in that but, it doesn’t do much to remedy how panicky he feels.

Pushing the feeling to the side though, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your usual spot on the lounge.

He’d just have to deal with the blowback in the morning.

Opening his journal, Aemond begins to write when a strange sound comes from where you sleep.

He doesn’t think anything of it and returns to writing until the quiet sound begins to sound like quiet choking.

Aemond rushes to your side and wakes you up and, you immediately burst into tears and cling to him.

Aemond’s already hurting heart breaks for you and he wraps his arms around you and slips beneath the blankets.

He strokes your hair and sings a song he’d heard you singing many times before.

The two of you fall asleep like that.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re gone.

He meets you at midday and the two of you speak nothing about it except for you asking about the strange book you began reading on his bedside table.

Aemond is horrified when you tell him that despite how confusing you found it, you quite liked it and would like to read the rest of it.

At night fall, you find yourself standing in Aemond’s room again.

He tucks you in and makes a move for the couch but, you pull him beneath the blankets without a word.

It becomes routine every year on the anniversary and slowly seeps into your nap routine as the two of you opt for resting together in his bed instead of your usual spots.

Aegon walks in one day when Aemond forgot to bar the door and spots the two of you.

He attempts to lord it over Aemond’s head but, immediately backs down at the threatening look on Aemond's face and Aemond asking, "are you challenging me, brother?"

Aegon never speaks of it again.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#through the ages: series #tta: series #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #inbox 💌#anonymous #request

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winchestersickness · 8 months

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Sorry anon I somehow deleted your ask 😔 but here's the rec! I went through my ao3 history and picked these, I hope there's something you haven't read yet and that you will enjoy :))

Gift Horse, Mouth, etc.

Sam gets accidentally stuck with a curse that can only be lifted by acting on his deepest hidden fantasy. Dean thinks it's hilarious, and why won't Sammy just tell him what it is already? It can't be anything that weird. Right?

Please Tell Me Who I Am

A/B/O AU. As a beta, Sam shouldn’t even be attracted to his alpha brother (much less be yearning for Dean to finally take that last step into claiming him officially) but, a few compatibility issues aside, they’re happy with the pseudo-mateship they’ve got going on. At least, until a hunt-gone-wrong ends up with Sam being cursed into an omega. He and Dean race to find a way to reverse the spell before it’s too late…but now Sam’s not entirely sure if he even wants to be cured.

Convalescence

Post-Cage!Sam seen through the eyes of others.

(more under the cut)

In Loco Parentis

“Sam, are you,” Dean pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a second because his brain just doesn’t want to catch up. “Are you jerking off and thinking about Dad?” (Sam is 15).

take the things you love

The thing is, Sam’s reinforcing every bad behavior Dean’s ever had with this kind of shit. Fucking Sam stupid over the hood of the Impala? Dean’s wet dream—unfortunately also Sam’s—but more importantly the implicit validation of every claim Dean thinks he has on Sam—unfortunately every claim Sam’s lizard brain wants Dean to have. (Sam knows his brother wants to possess him. It's a point of internal conflict.)

There's An Enochian Incantation

Dean finds a spell to create a weapon to banish leviathans. It involves an Enochian incantation. The last thing Sam's already-fragile mind needs is to hear words in the language of angels.

brother only wants

Sam breathes like it takes effort, and then he says, "Wanting you was the very first thing I realized was wrong with me. It was how I knew there was something sick inside." (One of them had to fall first. A story about devotion.)

Hands Away

When you’re horny and alone with one person in one room for a long time and you’re sixteen and all you’ve ever been taught is to love your brother more than anything, it doesn’t seem like that far of a leap to start imagining what his mouth would feel like around your dick.

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming

The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for. "I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

Taking Advantage

Sam is doing everything Dean tells him to. It’s weird, and Dean wants to get to the bottom of it so he pushes Sam. Sam breaks.

I'd Gladly Lose Me To Find You

Sam takes a vow of silence in order to pull Dean out of Hell, but by the time Dean comes back, Sam's lost more of himself than just his voice. Splits off completely from canon after the season 3 finale.

One Going On Eternity And Counting

Some boundaries were never meant to be crossed ...

with hearts that are guilty, not remorseful

“I’ve wanted you since I knew what wanting was.” It’s a fact, as plain as the day. The sky is blue. Their mother was killed by a demon. They hunt monsters. Sam wants Dean. “I’ve loved you for longer, I think.” “God,” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, raising a hand to grip his own hair by the roots and pulling. He looks absolutely wretched. “I fucked you up, didn’t I?”

When You're Not Here

The third time Sam Winchester comes to school with bruises, Mrs. Davidson decides it's time to intervene - before it's too late.

Gutless

Sticky fingers, that’s what Dean always calls him.

Bullet for my Valentine

Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone. Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly. But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if – As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe.

I haven't been reading spn fics for long so idk if all these are well known already, but I loved all of these (a couple of them are platonic). hope you'll like them!

#There's more under my tag ->#Fics #:) happy reading! Hope you'll like these #Check the tags ecc ecc #sam & dean #m #supernatural #Wincest #Samdean #Fic rec #Spn #Anon #Asks

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scaryscarecrows · 4 months

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Welcome to Camp Kill Batman

When the first batch of recruits come, it’s going to rain any minute. The skies are black, the humidity is unbearable, and the jungle is silent.

It’s no wonder the Knight’s nowhere in sight when the APC pulls into the compound.

Antoine’s the one who went to collect them. He won’t scare them, and he’s not busy; Frank, the other Good Choice, had had a breakthrough on some drone thing and had left firm instructions that unless the compound was actively going to self-destruct in two minutes, Do Not Disturb. Riley had tagged along, which maybe wasn’t a great idea, but really, Trent figures, how bad can it possibly have gone?

What he should figure, he realizes later, is how bad can it possibly go. The men pile out, already bitching about the heat. They’re professionals, though, and they get lined up fast enough despite their obvious confusion.

“These the new recruits?”

Trent doesn’t jump. He just shudders a little, that’s all. The Knight is way, way too stealthy for a guy dressed like…well…that. Antoine, who probably saw him coming, just drawls, “Yessir,” in a tone that screams, no shit these’re the new recruits.

There’s another movement, small and fast like a bug, on his left. A second later Riley’s nudging him in the ribs and going, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. He grunts an acknowledgement. He doesn’t have to be here, but he’s a little curious, really, as to how this is gonna go.

“I want to know what I’m working with,” the boss says suddenly. He steps back, cocks his head, and Trent has just enough time to think, oh for fuck’s sake when he continues with, “Attack me.”

There’s a beat. Two. Then one of them, with a long scar down the back of his head, asks, “All of us? Together?”

“Mm-hm.”

“But that’s–”

“What you’ll be doing in Gotham. I’m giving you all an order. Follow it, or leave.”

They follow it.

About four and half minutes later, Antoine lights a cigarette, gives Trent and Riley a very, very tired Look, and gets back in the APC.

Yeah. Mark’s probably not gonna be very happy.

* * *

Honestly, Trent chalks that one up to needing to make an impression. This whole thing sounds crazy on paper. And it worked: the second and third batches are swiftly pulled aside with, “He kicked our asses like five minutes after we got here, this guy means business.”

So when batch five rolls around, Trent’s not expecting to be called over.

“Some of you are probably thinking that this is overkill,” he says. “Ages here is going to show you why it’s not.”

What.

“Sir,” he starts, but the Knight just turns to him and spreads his hands.

“Shoot at me.”

“What.”

“Your last physical said your hearing was fine.” Little shit. “Shoot at me.”

He regrets not being busy today. Oh, well. Look, this is on camera. If this goes badly, it’s on camera that he was literally just following orders.

He hefts his minigun up. Wonders, a few seconds later, why he was worried; he gets a few rounds off, sure, but the Knight just does that annoying-ass sproing, bounces off the gun like it’s a damn diving board, and probably only doesn’t use gravity to drag Trent to the ground after because that’s not the point. The recruits are suitably awed. Trent’s just annoyed. There were a thousand ways that could have gone horribly wrong and also, what the fuck.

“You owe me a fight later,” he gripes. “No guns. No holds barred.”

The Knight just laughs.

“Sure,” he says easily. “Why the hell not.”

* * *

Twice is coincidence. The third time, when the Knight opens with some absolute bullshit line about, ‘whoever kills me gets to command–and profit from–this entire operation’, Trent just sits back to watch the fun.

He didn’t know this was going to happen. Hell, the boss just got back from Gotham. Showed up a few minutes after they did, actually, roaring into base on a bike Trent doesn’t recognize.* But he hopped off, collared one of the mechanics and told them to take it to Frank, and came over to investigate. And, well, he led with that.

“There’s no way he can take on that many guys,” one of the newbies whispers. And. It’s just, well, look. Nobody is stupid enough to accuse Trent of being a fine, upstanding gentleman.

He heads over, relishing a little in the path that gets cleared for him immediately, and rumbles, “Wanna bet?” The man blanches and he clarifies, grinning, “Twenty bucks.”

Newbie looks very much like he does not wanna bet, but he also doesn’t wanna risk losing face.

“You’re on. Twenty bucks this guy gets his ass kicked.”

“Anyone else?”

There’s a few takers that agree, there’s no way this nutcase can come out of this. Trent suddenly has a wonderful, awful idea and twists over to go, “Hey, Antoine.”

That causes a ripple of worry. Apparently, they didn’t realize they were betting with one of the Top. Oh, well. Antoine shakes a cigarette out and looks over.

“What.”

“We got a bet going over here that the boss is gonna get clobbered. Wanna pick a side?”

He shrugs, flicks his lighter open.

“Twenty that one of ‘em insists they need medical.”

Good point.

“Yeah, I’m changing mine to that, actually. All right. Anyone else?”

No.

They walk away with roughly ten new mortal enemies. Better than the one insisting that he had a broken arm; it was a sprain, and Mark was not happy to have to explain this.

Still, Trent figures, rifling through his cash, he’ll be around for newbies every time. This isn’t a bad haul.

THE END

*It’s Dick’s. Jason steals two bikes from him (that we know of), presumably for use with his own tech, though he’s also such a little fucker about it. :p

#fic #jason todd #arkhamverse #scaryverse #trent ages #jason is a menace and he makes this everyone else's problem

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witchybitchy222 · 1 year

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Azriel x Reader | Satisfaction Part 3

Alright y’all here it is! The third and final part to satisfaction! I hope you all like it! I know I asked in part 2 and some of you said smut from Az’s POV buttt it just didn’t flow well that way. I’m sorry! Send me any requests you have and as always, thanks for the support! 🫶🏻

WARNINGS: smut, oral both female and male receiving, rough sex, mentions of blood, 18+

——————————————————————————

It was already bright as you opened your eyes, the first rays of the early morning sun were breaking over the mountains and streaming in through your curtains. You sat up with a stretch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and the events of the night before came rushing back to you.

You’d told Azriel, no not just Azriel, the entire inner circle, that you fantasized about him. And not just that, you were also about 90% sure you’d called him pretty before he left your room.

You threw yourself back on the pillows with a groan, swearing you were never drinking again. Embarrassed wasn’t a strong enough word for how you were feeling right now.

You picked yourself up and got dressed. You were brushing your teeth and desperately trying not to think about how you were going to have to face Azriel in less than an hour, when there was a knock at your door.

You froze in place, your anxious brain telling you it must be Azriel there to tell you to stay far, far away from him.

“Y/N! Open up!” Nesta’s voice flowed in, muffled through the wooden door.

You sighed, pulling the door open for your friend.

“Hey, Cass sent me to see if you were coming to training, or if you were too hungover.”

“Don’t act all friendly like I’ll just forget you made me spill a huge secret last night.” You accused, plopping down on your bed as Nesta followed you inside.

Your friend sighed and sat down next to you.

“Don’t be mad at me, there’s no way he doesn’t know you’re into him. I mean, neither of you are exactly subtle about it.”

“Neither of us?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing

“Oh don’t act like the two of you haven’t been dancing around the subject for ages now. Hells, I’ve only been here a few years and I see it.”

“Azriel isn’t interested in me Nes. And that’s okay. I just really hope I didn’t ruin our friendship over something so stupid.” Nesta put an arm around your shoulder.

“If you honestly think he doesn’t feel the same then I’m sorry. But you know Az! Even if he isn’t into you at all, he’d never make it weird. Azriel is nothing if not a kind male. He’d take you aside and let you know he isn’t interested but still wants to be friends. I mean, that’s what he did with Gwyn.” She shrugged.

Your head shot up, “Gwyn had a thing for Azriel??”

“Uh, yeah. Massive crush. But after some self- reflection she realized she was only interested in him because he was the first male to show her kindness after her attack.”

You sat in silence for a moment. Maybe Nesta was right. Azriel was kind. And what’s the worst that could happen? You’d already embarrassed yourself, it couldn’t get much more humiliating than this.

You took a deep breath, asked your friend to braid your hair, and put on your leathers.

You found Azriel first thing, nervously asking if you could talk to him before everyone got started. He gave you a short nod and followed you to the edge of the roof.

“So,” you sighed, wringing your hands. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about how I acted last night… it was totally not okay to say all of that… stuff… and I’m sorry if I totally creeped you out.”

You made yourself stop fidgeting and bring your eyes to Azriel’s face.

His head was slightly tilted to one side, the only indication of confusion in his stoic demeanor. You mentally cringed at yourself for what felt like the millionth time today, wishing you’d just crawled back into bed this morning.

You started to stutter out another apology when Azriel’s mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Y/N, there’s no need to apologize. It was a game. You were drunk.” He shrugged, turning back toward the ring. “Oh” he started, looking at you over his shoulder, smirk still firmly in place “by the way, I don’t think you’re creepy in the slightest.” The shadowsinger shot you a wink before joining Cassian in stretching.

You were left momentarily stunned. Was Azriel… flirting with you? Holy shit…. It was so on.

You took a moment to collect yourself before leading your group of priestesses in their warm up stretches. You’d worn an oversized jacket to the training ring this morning, the early chill keeping it cool until the sun fully crested over the mountains. Feeling Azriel’s eyes on you from across the roof, you shed your jacket, stretching in the early morning sun, leaving you in your tight scoop neck tank top, the curve of your breasts exposed, and your Illyrian leather pants, daggers strapped to each thigh, material clinging to every curve. You looked over your shoulder at the shadowsinger and shot him a grin.

This game was fun. And you were good at it, your confidence soaring each time you felt Azriel’s eyes on you as you trained. You made sure to bend over more than necessary, giving him a view of your ass each time, winking when you caught him staring. For nearly 45 minutes you kept half your attention on your teaching and the other half on teasing Azriel.

As you wrapped up your defense lesson for the day, Cassian jogged across the ring, waving at you as he approached.

“Hey!” He called, “you still wanna do that self defense demonstration?”

You nodded, eyes sliding to Azriel, an idea forming. “For sure! Tell Az I need him to be my partner.”

“Alright” Cassian grinned as he situated the priestesses around the center ring.

You squared up with Azriel, a smirk on your face.

“Okay,” you clapped, turning to the crowd, “I know it can be intimidating when you’re attacked by a male twice your size” you gestured at the shadowsinger, “but just remember to calm your mind, sometimes being smaller is an advantage.”

You walked back to Azriel, placing your back against his now bare chest, making sure to wiggle your backside against him as he situated his arms around you. He leaned down and growled in your ear “your teasing isn’t funny, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” His voice was silky smooth, quiet breath sending shivers down your spine as you took in his words. It was hard to concentrate as you moved through the motions, and the demonstration passed in a daze.

You were grabbing a drink of water and calming your nerves as the priestesses filed out. “Up for a round?” Azriel asked, twirling truth teller in his hand as he smirked at you.

“You’re on, shadowsinger.” You winked, grabbing the daggers from your thighs.

He lunged for you immediately, striking with grace and precision, leaving you only seconds to dodge. You danced around each other, slashing and spinning in a deadly dance, evenly matched until you managed to catch him off guard. He knew you favored your right hand, so you led with it, making to swipe for his throat, while your left hand jabbed at his ribs, dagger hilt-first, landing a blow in precisely the right spot to knock the breath from his lungs. Quick as a cat, your leg shot out, sweeping him off his feet, but as tricky as you’d been, he was just as good, slashing out with truth teller and landing a shallow cut across your exposed chest before pinning you down underneath him.

You were both breathing hard as he stared down at you from above, your daggers still gripped in your hands as he pinned your wrists on either side of your head, his knees settling around your hips.

The look he was giving you was more intense than the fighting that had just taken place, so you were more than shocked when his lips met yours in barely a brush.

You gasped, staring up at him in shock before lifting your head and catching his lips again. He groaned as he leaned into you, kissing you harder. Your lips opened for him, letting him taste you. It was like your brain had short-circuited and all you could think of was him.

You started to lift your arms, wanting to reach up and pull him closer, but quickly realized your wrists were still pinned down. You whined in frustration and he pulled away, chuckling at you.

“I want to touch you.” You breathed, and he let out a groan “you’re gonna be the death of me.” Azriel’s eyes scanned your face before settling on the now healing cut across your chest. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as if he’d just noticed his knife had actually made contact.

He brought his eyes back to yours before leaning down and kissing your jaw, down your neck to the scratch his blade had made before dragging his tongue across it, licking up the blood as his eyes bore into yours. You let out an unabashed moan as arousal began to pool in your core, imagining his tongue all over your body.

He released your wrists and you immediately dropped your daggers, hands flying to his hair to pull him back in for a kiss.

Shadows enveloped you and a moment later your back was hitting the soft surface of what must’ve been Azriel’s bed.

He sat back and looked at you, “is this okay?” He asked, and you grinned in response, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him against you again.

He laughed and went back to kissing your neck, his hands wandering up and down the curves of your sides. You threw your head back to give him better access as you drug your hands down his chest, feeling every inch of defined muscles.

Azriel’s hands slid under your top and you sat up, pulling it over your head and exposing your breasts to him.

He stared for a moment, rough hands lightly tracing your chest and torso. You grabbed his wrist, bringing his palm to your mouth and planting a kiss in the middle, hoping to erase any hesitation. He gave you a small smile before dipping his head down and attaching his mouth to your right breast, licking and sucking on your nipple. You moaned at the sensation, his hand squeezing your other breast before switching.

Azriel kissed down your body, stopping at your hip bones to lick and suck marks on the sensitive spots. He pulled down your pants, underwear leaving with them, and groaned at the sight of how wet you’d gotten.

His big hands gripped your thighs, slowly spreading them apart, kissing up each side and stopping just before your core. You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to move closer. He took one finger and drug it up through your folds, bringing it to his mouth and sucking off the juices with a moan. You could’ve come undone at the sight.

Azriel spread your legs wider and dove in. Attaching his mouth to your aching pussy, licking and sucking like a man starved. Your back arched off the bed, hands shooting to his hair to pull him impossibly closer, eyes rolling back in your head.

He slid a finger inside you, curling and pumping it inside, hitting just the right spot that had you grinding down on his face, wanting more. He quickly inserted a second finger, nipping at your clit and making you see stars. Soon you were coming, grinding onto his mouth as his fingers pumped you through until your legs stopped shaking and you collapsed on the bed, breathing hard.

Azriel slunk up your body, planting a hungry kiss on your lips. You kissed him back with fervor, wrapping your legs around his waist and using your thighs to flip him over.

You sat up on top of him, admiring how sinfully beautiful he looked, eyes lidded with lust, full lips swollen, and wings splayed behind him.

You slid off of him, hands working to remove his pants. He lifted his hips and his cock finally sprang free. You practically salivated at the sight. Feeling no shame in how wet you got just by looking at him. He was big, thick and long, and pulsing with arousal, precum resting at the tip.

Azriel made to sit up and you gently pushed him down, sliding your body down until your mouth was poised above his cock. “It’s my turn to taste you.” You stared into his eyes as you wrapped your mouth around him, taking him in all the way to the back of your throat, gagging on the length of him. He let out a delightful moan as the tip hit the back of your throat, your hand wrapping around what wouldn’t fit inside you.

You began to move, sucking and stroking in time, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you could back down your throat. His hands flew to your hair, tugging at it as his hips began to thrust up into your mouth.

Your eyes were watering when he gently pulled you off, breathing heavy as you wiped the spit and precum from your mouth, licking your lips to get a taste of him. “I want to cum inside you.” He looked into your eyes before switching your positions.

Azriel lined himself up with your dripping sex, slowly pushing in, both of you moaning at the feeling. Your pussy stretched to accommodate every inch of his thick cock, filling you to the brim.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he bottomed out, the tip of him hitting you in just the right way. You thought you’d been completely blissed out until he started moving, slowly at first and then quicker with each thrust, pushing into you hard enough to make the bed rock. Your nails raked at his shoulders as you moaned uncontrollably.

Azriel leaned down, mouth attaching to the spot between your neck and shoulder, biting and sucking enough to bruise. You lifted one hand up, lightly running your fingers along the edge of his wing. His hips stuttered and he growled into your shoulder.

In an instant he was pulling out of you, you didn’t even have time to whine at the lost contact before he flipped you over and slammed into you from behind.

You let out a scream as he grabbed your braid, wrapping it around his hand and pulling your head back as he relentlessly fucked into you. His other hand came around to rub your clit and you were thrown into a mind-blowing orgasm. You were shaking and crying as Azriel continued to fuck you.

Your pussy clenched around him and he came undone quickly after you, pumping his cum inside you before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to you.

You both laid there for moment, staring at each other in shock and catching your breath.

“Wow.” Azriel breathed, looking at you like you were the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. You could only nod in agreement.

“Y/N…” he reached out, letting his hand fall to the open space between you, eyebrows furrowing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his hand, placing it on your cheek.

“Nothing could be wrong after that.” He laughed, “it’s just, I feel like I should let you know that as amazing as that was… I don’t want this to just be sex. I have… deeper feelings for you. And if you don’t feel the same that’s okay and I’ll respect your boundaries, but if sex is all this is to you I think we should stop here. It would be hard enough to keep myself away from you now, let alone if we do this again.”

You were stunned. Only this morning had you even let yourself think this male MIGHT be attracted to you, and here he was saying he had feelings for you? You felt like the luckiest female alive.

You smiled at him. “I have feelings for you too… I think we should see where this goes.” He grinned back and pulled you to his chest.

You lay there for a while, Azriel’s hand in your hair, the other wrapped around your waist as you listened to his heartbeat.

“So,” he began, the smirk evident in his voice, “did I cure your sexual frustration?”

You laughed, having completely forgotten about Ian and your crappy date. “I can honestly say I and 100% satisfied.”

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @chaoticpizzalawyerbiscuit @ruler-of-hades @cosmic-whispers @brekkershadowsinger @azriel-luvr @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @thesillyyogourt @a-little-disguised @hanasakr @morrie-rose @lahoete @orangecomfortfoods @safetypinxtales

@articulatecrow

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #witchybitchy222 #mine #azriel x reader #send me asks #azriel #azriel x female reader #acotar x reader

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annoyinglandmagazine · 6 months

Text

Elrond and Celebrian’s wedding thoughts

I’ve had this really weird idea about how the brutality of the first and second age in which so many elves have lived could influence certain traditions, especially the Noldor exiles because I think they did a very sharp u turn from ‘all I’ve known is bliss’ to ‘the world is composed of fire and corpses’ and went well off the deep end a lot quicker than the Sindar did. Because the Sindar adjusted to the darkness a lot less violently and suddenly than the Noldor did and are just generally more stable seeming, less entirely batshit insane (because of course all the Noldor exiles present in First Age Beleriand are the batshit insane ones who either burnt the ships or crossed the Helcaraxe).

So the Noldor are so focused on war that it inserts itself into every aspect of their lives including ceremonies because how is anything meant to be binding without blood spilled? Bonds are forged by saving each other in battle, avenging a lost friend with a bloodthirsty rampage, how are words meant to hold weight or impact over the life and death situations that define them? So I think that in certain factions, at certain points, it becomes tradition for there always to be some form of blood involved in a wedding ceremony.

How varies, probably it originated from people just straight up getting married on the battlefield one time too many, seems like a very Noldor thing to do (no I’m not talking about the LACE kind of wedding before anyone’s mind goes there). Then it evolves to different things, scrapes along hands before linking them, cuts on knuckles before bringing them to lips, slicing a finger and leaving a bloody mark over the partners heart or on their forehead, or (my personal favourite) cutting the lips before kissing so the blood mingles.

This brings me to the main point of this ramble which is that Elrond and Celebrian by the start of the Third Age are some of the only people who still value this tradition. Despite their extremely different upbringings fundamentally, and this of course is up to personal interpretation as we know very little about Celebrian sadly, I’d say they were both born into the world at the point of apocalypse, desensitised to violence. Very used to the sense of impending doom and willing to take any hope or joy when they can. They are fundamentally children of the first age and it shows.

Mirkwood obviously doesn’t do this because they obviously aren’t Noldor and don’t have those kind of traditions (because they aren’t that mental) and Lothlorien probably wouldn’t because it’s predominantly Sindar (and also more chill) and since a good proportion of the First Age elves are either dead or in Valinor by the end of the second age suffice it to say everyone who is at their wedding thinks it’s concerning when they pull out their ‘good daggers’ and prick their lips before embracing, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes and grinning wildly all the time as if there’s nothing messed up at all about the fact they brought daggers to their wedding.

Thranduil expected there to be at least one disturbing Noldor feature of the day, his father gave him enough vague warnings, not that he ever thought he’d end up at a Noldo’s wedding, and he’d certainly no hopes of Celebrian being a tempering influence on Elrond’s blatant Feanorian sympathies with how much she loved to wreak havoc but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of little droplets of blood smearing on their mouths as they pressed their lips together, otherwise perfectly romantically. He does not attend any more weddings in Rivendell after that.

Galadriel and Celeborn probably married in a Sindarin way but they find the gesture touching anyway, not unusual in the slightest but more quaint, a true symbolic end to the previous ages in the joining of the last descendants of Finwë in the wartime fashion before an age of peace.

Is there a possibility Arwen and Aragorn did it too? Absolutely and Legolas has thoughts on it which he will be bemoaning to Gimli the entire ceremony.

#silmarillion #tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #elrond peredhel #elrond x celebrian #celebrian #thranduil #legolas #gimli #aragorn #arwen undomiel #galadriel #celeborn #noldor

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project-sekai-facts · 10 months

Note

HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW LEAKS im crying and throwing up do you think wxs is going to disband what is happening :((((

I’m writing this the day leaks came out but scheduling it to post the day the preview drops. Sorry about the delay in answering.

(Also I won’t talk about any cards outside Emu’s untrained because they don't drop until tomorrow)

First: the title. Our Happy Ending.

I get why this is starting a panic in the fandom especially since the disbanding thing has been teased for a while and we know endings for every unit have been written in advance,

BUT

Emu’s grandad. We know parts of this event will be flashbacks to Emu’s childhood and times with her grandad. And he’s dead. I think the happy ending refers to his passing. Like I would not be surprised if the flashbacks are to him dying and the promise Emu made with him to smile which is shown in Smile of Dreamer. They did it with Nagi which means it’s on the table.

Second. Rui’s idea.

Rui had never had close friends until WxS came along. As curtain call and events since then indicate, he doesn’t want to leave them. I’ve done a few posts on this before and the truth is that he can’t stay with them forever, all of them want different things, and change is natural. I know Pandemonium just gave him some new friends at school but it would feel a bit... Wrong, I guess if they just suddenly snatched WxS away from him following chapter 8 of that event. Also they’re still in school why would the disband when they’re still together unless the writers pull a scholarship for Tsukasa out their asses but it’s been established that he’s behind other actors his age, so if anyone’s getting a scholarship it’s Sakurako. Rui getting one is pretty much off the table as well since he already turned down the offer from Asahi, so after realising that he wants to stay with wxs for as long as possible I think he'd turn down any other offers.

Third. The summary.

Is WxS disbanding.

No.

As I just said, they’re still in school together so there’s literally no reason to have them split unless one of them is forcibly dragged away. One of them needs to be on the anniversary banner and as I posted a few days ago it’s quite likely that the banner will be for Nene. Also they need a vsinger on the vsinger event they’re not getting written out of the story just yet. And Emu needs another birthday card and a mixed event which won’t be until at least October unless she gets back to back events for some reason. Nene will need a mixed event if she doesn't get the anniversary one. Oh and Rui and Tsukasa need their 4th unit events.

Here’s my personal theory for this event and spoilers for a ten year old anime I’m gonna talk about Love Live again (pretty sure I said this already before but oh well). So towards the end of the second season of that anime, the third years get close to graduating and muse have to decide if they want to continue without the third years or end the group there. They ultimately decide to disband once the third years leave because it wouldn’t be the same without them and then they cry about it and basically I think that’s probably what’s gonna happen. They know they can’t stay together but they’ve got a year left and they’re gonna enjoy it. As I said already I think all this stuff about endings and saying goodbye probably refers to Emu grieving her grandfather.

Also Asahi said he’d be back to offer Rui a job again once he’s done with high school isn’t that confirmation enough that we’ve got three years to go?

Also if it was the final wxs event you’d think they’d. Y’know. Mention it. In advance.

#meikos probably fes if she’s 4* here rip minori. girl i'm sorry they did this to you you didn't deserve to go over a year without a lim #speculation #mod talks #asks

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issdisgrace · 1 year

Text

NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF

WARNINGS: Fluff, age regression, rudy is a cute kid

It had been a long day of meetings after meetings. With the last meeting over, I head back to the barracks, hoping Rudy was in our shared room. Walking down the long corridor, I eventually come to a stop at our door. Just before I open it, I hear giggling, well that’s stranger. Deciding to continue on, I open the door and I’m met with the sight of Rudy in his boxers and an oversized shirt sitting on the floor playing with 3 stuffed animals. I recognize the stuffed animals immediately as the ones I bought and given to him as gifts. The first one was a bear that I got him for valentines last year. The second one was a penguin I got him for our first Christmas together. Then the third one was a jaguar I bought him not even a couple of weeks ago because I saw it and the eyes reminded me of him. Now thoroughly intrigued by the sight in front of me, I make my presence known as I shut the door behind me. Before I can get a word out, Rudy jumps up from his spot on the floor and runs towards me. I’m able to brace myself before he jumps into my arms. I manage my grip on him so he doesn’t fall. He doesn’t seem to care as he smiles and says,

“Hi daddy.” His voice is so sweet and small. It warms my heart.

“Hey bud. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just missed you lots.”

“Aww, I missed you too.”

“Really?”

“Yep, I missed you a lot.”

“Do you want to see the picture I drew?”

“Sure bud.” I carefully set him down, to which he grabs my hand and leads me to his setup. I watch as he rummages through some papers before pulling out a drawing. He hands it to me with a smile and I can’t help but smile back as I take it. Looking over the picture, I read the messy writing that says “me and daddy” with an arrow pointing to 2 figures holding hands.

“This is so good, baby. Did you do this all by yourself?” He nods vigorously as his smiles widens.

“You’re very talented, I must say.”

“I am?”

“Yep, you could be a professional.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I think this should be hung in museums.”

“I don’t want it in museums because then you can’t see it.”

“You’re right bud, I’ll have to put it up somewhere. I can see it every day. But I’ll do that tomorrow. I’m too tired to do it tonight.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Now what do you say I change out of these clothes and then we get some sleep?”

“Ok.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute.” Walking into the bathroom, I shut the lock on the door behind me. I take a moment to collect my thoughts. Ok so I have a boyfriend regressed to the age of 6 or 7 and no answers on why or when did the regression started. I, of course, knew what age regression was. I just never thought Rudy would be the type to regress, not that I’m complaining he’s a pretty cute kid. This also fills in a lot of blanks and explains some of his quirks. But I’ll have to talk to him when he’s big again. Deciding I have thought enough about how this going to change the dynamic of the relationship. I strip down to my boxers and throw the rest of my clothes in the hamper. Exiting the bathroom, I see Rudy already snuggled up in bed with a stuffed animal in his arms. Slipping in the net to him, I pull him close into my chest and give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight Rudy.”

“Goodnight daddy.”

TIMESKIP NET DAY

The blaring of the alarm quickly woke me up. Rolling over, I turn it off. Sighing, I roll back over to face Rudy, his eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning Rudy. Do remember what happened last night.”

“No, not really. The new recruits were giving me a hard, and I came back here and that was really all I remember.”

“So you remember nothing while you were regressing?”

“Oh god, you weren’t supposed to know.” Rud says as he hides his face in his pillow.

“It’s ok Rudy. I have no problem with you regressing it just a little shocking, as you hadn’t mentioned anything to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I-I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Rudy, I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me. I get its hard to be so open and I love you too much for this to change anything about us or our relationship.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you more Rudy.”

#rodolfo rudy parra #cod #rodolfo rudy parra x male reader #rodolfo rudy para x reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader

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thebluestbluewords · 9 months

Text

Anything You Like (the Jaylos-but-also-polyamory part)

More of my Soulmate AU! This section got wildly out of hand. Like, almost a third of my WIP-document out of hand. Loosely based on the Isle of the Lost book canon, so warning for bullying and terrible parenting.

"Get back here!" Jay shouts desperately at the kid disappearing as fast as his skinny legs can carry him, around the corner of the market street and deep into the maze of stalls. "I'm not--"

Not what, his rational, thinking brain offers. Not going to hurt him?

That's a stupid thought. Life on the island is all about hurting people.

Jay hurts people for fun, and for class, and just because there are people in his way and he's finally starting to be one of the bigger, stronger kids who can get away with hurting other people instead of being the one who's hurt all the time. He's done his time as a little kid, and it feels... better to be the one in control, instead of the one who's always running and hiding and trying to avoid the people who want to hurt him. It's not like Jay can really run from his problems, not when they're all stuck on the same shitty island together with adults who want to leave him bleeding or dead or worse, but now that he's bigger, he can start fighting them instead of trying to run all the time.

His soulmate isn't very big yet. Probably not big enough or strong enough to fight off an adult.

Jay is not nice, and he is not kind, and he lives on the Isle of the Lost, so he doesn't, can't, care about other people like he cares about himself. He's not anybody else's top priority, so he's got to be his own number one.

He's already got two soulmates to deal with, and a third one, especially a fast little third one who bites and squirms and has a knife and no sense of when he should use it shouldn't be something Jay is thinking about. He should make the smart choice, and swipe a new pair of gloves to cover the mark, and never think about it again.

Yeah. That would be the smart thing to do.

Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show. That's what they do on the mainland when they've got inconvenient feelings, and that's what Jay should do about this new soulmark and the inconvenient, annoying soulmate who comes with it. He should put it somewhere under his gloves, in the back of his mind, and never think about it again.

He’s not going to, but it’s what he should do. Objectively speaking. It’s probably what Mal would tell him to do too, if she knew about this new soulmate.

Jay should tell her. They’re each other’s first real marks. It’s not supposed to mean something on the isle of the lost, but it sometimes does anyway. They’re a villain-and-sidekick duo. Or, on their bad days, sidekick and sidekick. Sometimes everything goes wrong, and neither of them is feeling up to claiming responsibility for a scheme gone sideways, so they call themselves both sidekicks, trying to prop each other up without a proper villain to work around. Two useless lackeys with only each other to command.

A pebble bounces off Jay’s head.

Shit. If he were less lucky, the rock could have been a bottle, or a knife, or—

“Dude!” His soulmate shouts from the rooftop of the shitty cauldron store. The very easily accessible roof of the shitty cauldron store. “Are you coming up or not?”

Right.

One jump over the stack of third-rate cauldrons, and it’s an easy grab for the crumbling ladder on the side of the building. The momentum makes the ladder creak, but Jay’s been doing this for ages, and he’s not heavy enough to pull it out of the brick yet. He can’t quite get the leverage to do something cool, like backflip up onto the roof, but he can pull with his arms instead of his core, which is stupid and going to hurt later, but it makes his biceps pop.

His soulmate probably doesn’t care what his arms look like. He’s probably some sad nerd who’s never looked at a guy in his life, and it’s just a coincidence that they’re marked for each other. Probably. Anything else would be almost good, and if there’s one kind of thing that never happens on the isle, it’s goodness.

So, coincidence it is.

Jay's new soulmate glares at him. "You wanted to talk?"

It’s probably not the best choice, seeing as the only reason they’re here is because Jay’s soulmate let him catch up, but it’s too fun to mess with him. “You don't?" Jay asks, keeping his face neutral. No point in giving anything away yet. He’s not above having fun with this. “Thought you’d want to get to know each other a bit. Seeing as we’re soulmates and all.”

The kid glares back at him. Jay knows everyone at school, and he knows perfectly well who Carlos DeVil is, but they’ve never actually talked outside of school before.

Actually, they’ve never really talked in school either. Sure, they’ve traded insults in the hall, and done their fair share of shouting at each other in class when Jay gets bored and starts throwing things into their weird science beaker, but they’ve never just…. talked.

It’s weird, actually.

Carlos folds his arms, defensive-like. "Nothing to talk about. We're soulmarked, yay.” he rolls his eyes, somehow turning the ‘yay’ into the most sarcastic noise the isle’s seen in the last eighteen years. “You're still going to beat me up at school. I'm still gonna--"

He stops, abruptly.

"Gonna what?" Jay asks, fascinated despite himself. "Don't just stop there, man. What're you going to do now?"

Carlos glares harder. "Nothing. Shut up."

Jay is absolutely not going to do that. He's got another soulmate, and he's a fucking nerd, and he was definitely going to say something interesting. "Nope," Jay says cheerfully. His soulmate might be grumpy and nervous right now, but Jay's having a great time now that they're actually talking. "We're soulmarked now, so you've got to tell me. That's the rules."

"We're on the isle. We don't have rules."

"The cosmic rules of the universe. Soulmarks are like the one kind of magic we have over here, dude. Don't ruin the magic for me by saying you don't know the rules."

Carlos looks pissed. "There aren't rules!"

"Nu-uh,” Jay says, letting his voice fall into something light and almost singsong. “There totally are. The rules are that you have to tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that you're a jerk." Carlos snaps. “And this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and you should’ve just bought better gloves and never fucking touched me in the first place.”

"Cool.” Jay says brightly. He’s never had someone tell him when they’re thinking honestly before, and it’s sort of intoxicating. He could get used to his kind of thing. “I'm thinking that we should stick together. I'll introduce you to Mal tomorrow, if that's cool?"

"I know who Mal is. Everyone at school knows Mal."

“Nah,” Jay says, not even bothering to hide his smile. He’s definitely going to introduce Carlos to Mal tomorrow, and they’re going to get along like a house on fire, because they’re both assholes. “You know about Mal. You don't know her. Nobody else really knows her, not like me. And you, cause I'm going to introduce you."

"What if I don't want that?"

He obviously does want it. Nobody at school except for an idiot would turn down an invite to get out of Mal’s bad graces, and Carlos isn’t an idiot. Jay wouldn’t have spent the last sixteen years taking stuff out of his locker if he were dumb, and it’s gonna be great.

"Too bad. I'm introducing you two anyway.” Jay says cheerfully. Having a new soulmate is fun. Having two soulmates has been great for him so far, and it’s going to be even better once they get to know each other too. “Hey, maybe cause we share a mark, you’ll share one with Mal too!”

Carlos mumbles something mostly-inaudible. Jay can’t be sure, but it sounded suspiciously unlike the words “I’m so excited to meet your other soulmate” and a lot more like “if there’s two of them I’m going to fucking kill myself.”

So. That’s a little worrying.

Honesty seems to be the way to go. At least when he’s with Mal, honest questions about the gaps in their plan usually lead to less stabbing of their essential body parts, and more of them stabbing the other guys. So there’s that, and also the refreshingly honest answer he got out of his new soulmate last time, soo….

"What?” Jay asks. He’s still trying to keep his expression normal, but it’s hard to focus on that when there’s so many other things to worry about. Like how he’s going to explain to Mal that they’ve got a new gang member, and how he’s going to drag the two of them into the same space long enough to like each other. Maybe he should treat them both like the feral cats that he caught for his cousin, and lock them in rooms next to each other for a while so they can both shout at him until they get tired and decide it’s better to ally together.

Carlos sighs. It’s almost like Jay’s starting to wear down some of his prickly edges already. "I said, I don't want to get to know Mal. You two have been tormenting me since kindergarten. Nothing is going to change just because you have a mark on your hand."

Jay taps the new mark with his fingertips before he even realizes he’s doing it. It’s technically on his wrist, not his hand, but it’s going to be hard to hide either way. "You've got one too."

"Yeah, and my mother is going to try and cut it out of me as soon as she finds out,” Carlos says. He’s not glaring anymore, which would be cool if his face hadn’t gone totally blank instead. Like a mask, or like the thing that Evie, the pretty new girl that Mal’s been obsessed with since she showed up to school does with her face when she’s not thinking about it. “It'd be cool if you would stop fucking up all my shit at school, but I don't actually expect you to like, change or anything. We don't have to be anything because of this."

Ouch. "We don't fuck with that much of your shit."

"You soulmarked me by accident because you were trying to shove my head in a toilet," Carlos says, patiently. He's standing just out of arm's reach, with his back to the open rooftop. They're within easy sprinting distance to three other houses with low roofs, and Jay can count a handful of small, open windows that Carlos could probably dive through without issue, but are small enough that Jay, with his wider shoulders, would have to slow down and slip through more carefully. "I don't think you'd be able to stop fucking up my shit if you tried."

"Hey!"

"Just being honest. And hey, if you want to try, be my guest. I'd love to actually keep some of the shit I make for myself."

There’s a weight in Jay’s pocket that feels a lot like a handmade crossbow pen. And another one in his boot that might be a handful of tiny button batteries, and okay, maybe a third weight shoved in the secret pocket in the back of his vest that’s stuffed full of the wire contraption that he snagged without thinking right after his hand slipped and the soulmark showed up.

It’s not something he’s gonna keep doing now, obviously.

"We do take a lot of your shit, huh.” Jay admits. “I uh, I have some of your stuff. If you want it back.”

Carlos’s face is still blank. "Yeah. I know. And I also know that Auradon psychology textbooks say it's because nobody loves you at home, but it'd be really cool if you could stop taking it out on me."

Ouch. That one lands, and Jay has to work to keep his face blank over the instinctive spike of hurt that wells up in the dark depths of his chest. He's not exactly his dad's favorite person, but there's the other two girls who work in the shop sometimes, and they're friendly enough. Someone to help clean the dust off the junk and swap jokes with while they're handing over their weekly cut of the earnings is almost like having a friend, and Delphine even sticks around to flirt sometimes after her shift ends.

Delphine is nearly thirty, and keeps more knives on her person than Jay's ever managed to slip out of her pockets. She's also sort of scary if he tries to slip out before she's done talking with him, but she pays attention to his new bruises, and she once brought him a cup of stew from the spicier stall two streets down, and didn't even spit in it first. So she's basically the closest thing he's got to a friend at home.

"Mal takes her temper out on everyone," Jay points out, instead of defending his home life. It's the Isle of the Lost. They're all stuck here together with the same shitty parents, and explaining that he's got one person who usually doesn't throw anything at him on the way out the door isn't exactly a resounding defense. "I don't think I could stop her if I tried."

Carlos rolls his eyes. Now that Jay's looking, there's a ring of old bruises around his left eye. "I know. The whole school knows. It wasn't this bad last year, but ever since you two got dumped by Uma's pirate crew, or whatever–"

"We broke it off with them."

"Or whatever,” Carlos repeats, rolling his eyes again. “It's not like it makes a difference what actually happened. She's been kind of a raging bitch since then."

Jay lifts an eyebrow, partially at the language choice, and partially because he’s sort of being thrown for a loop here. Everyone wants to meet Mal, and he’s not really sure if he’s got anything to offer outside of his connection with her.

“Yeah, well,” he tries. “I bet if she had another soulmate, she’d probably be a lot less…”

“Bitchy?”

“I was gonna say irritable. Look, we lost half our crew when we dumped Uma’s gang–”

“When they dumped you,” Carlos whispers.

Jay shoots him a look. “Whatever. When we broke up, we lost a lot of our crew. And it’s not like we’re having trouble keeping things under control on our own, but we wouldn’t turn down company, if you’re interested. We have a hideout and everything. You could come and stay the night, if you want. Just to try it out.”

There’s a flicker of interest in his soulmate’s face.

“I guess,” Carlos says slowly. “If you’re offering, it would be not the worst thing to get out of my mom’s house for a night.”

Bingo.

“We’re offering.” Jay says, before he can think twice about the offer. He’ll lock Mal in their storage room, keep her out of the way until he’s got his new soulmate acclimated to the place. “Come on, if we go now we can make it home before Mal gets there, and you can give her the scare of her fuckin’ life.”

There’s a tiny hint of what might be a smile on Carlos’s face. “Sounds fun.”

It’s a risk, but they’re doing so well now that he can’t resist.

Jay holds out a hand. “Come on. Let me show you the way.”

Carlos takes it. “Lead on, I guess.”

#my fic #descendants #disney descendants #descendants fic #carlos de vil #jay son of jafar #I've been having too much fun with this and I know that I have to stop posting everything to tumblr in scraps #but also consider that I have about one brain cell left to write with and posting everything as soon as I write it sparks joy???

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