#the stuff will reveal itself soon

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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[azrielstaylorsversion]

Arrows and lies

Azriel x reader | angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of wounds, sickness and vomiting

Y/N tries to hide her injuries from her mate, only to find out how stupid her decision will be.

Shit shit shit, you thought to yourself. Pain shot through your lower body as an arrow pierced through your thigh.

You were quick enough to winnow back to the Night Court, but not quick enough to avoid the arrow.

This couldn't be happening.

This was the fifth time in a row you would come home injured from a mission. You were scared that if it happened again Rhys wouldn't let you go on missions alone again. Or worse, not letting you go on any missions at all.

And the thing you were most scared off was your mate's reaction. His last five reactions hadn't been that great. The injuries hadn't been that bad.

You had winnowed back to the outskirts of Velaris. To your and Azriel's shared home where you knew he wouldn't be right now. The two of you had been staying at the River House more often, since Rhys required both your assistance more often lately.

You didn't need to worry about the bond, since you and Azriel had an agreement to block each other out during most missions. You would let each other know you were alive every three hours and that was it.

The door to your house opened with ease. You stumbled inside, biting back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

The arrow needed to be removed as quickly as possible.

You stumbled over to the bathroom. Once inside you grabbed some stuff to help you clean the wound.

You needed to calm your breathing before pulling out the arrow. It hadn't gone through entirely, but that sure as hell didn't lessen the pain.

The arrow clattered to the ground as you screamed out. You immediately applied pressure to the leaking wound.

At least the arrow got out in one piece.

You bit on your own tongue to keep yourself from crying out again. Your eyes fell on the nasty wound. Something looked different. There was some green looking stuff around the wound.

You decided to just ignore it and to clean the wound as soon as possible. Maybe you had just imagined it or maybe if you washed it away quickly... Otherwise you would have to tell Az and Rhys you had once again been hurt on a mission. Shot with a poisoned arrow.

No. You were way too stubborn for that. The wound would heal on itself within the next few hours due to your Fae healing.

You ignored your own thoughts and got to cleaning the wound.

It was around two hours later when you had fully cleaned the wound and could walk sort of normal again. It was already late at this point, which was a good thing since you wouldn't have to face Rhys right away. But you were actually supposed to be back in the morning. It was best if you just told Rhys and Az that you had been ambushed and ran. You hoped they didn't notice your injury.

The front door of the River House opened with ease. The whole house was dark and quiet.

You immediately walked up the stairs to your shared room with Azriel. You needed clean clothes and a shower, since you hadn't been able to do both earlier.

Your bedroom door opened quietly. The dark outline of your mate laying in bed was the first thing that caught your attention. He was soundly asleep.

His shadows immediately moved to your side.

"Don't wake him." you whispered to them. They almost seemed to agree with you, retreating back to the shadowy corners of the room.

You walked into your bathroom, quickly filling the bath and grabbing clean clothes. It wasn't easy to pull you pants off again. The wound the arrow had left burned like hell.

When you managed to slip your pants past your thighs the wound was revealed. It looked way worse than before. The entire outline was red and fresh blood stained the sides.

The feeling of hot water against it wasn't very nice. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. You swallowed them back, reminding yourself the pain would lessen by tomorrow.

After making quick work of cleaning yourself, you changed into one of Az's sweaters and sleeping shorts, which covered the ugly wound.

It would be gone by the morning, you reminded yourself again.

Making sure your bloodied clothes were out of sight and everything was clean, you made your way to the bed.

Azriel was still asleep, his breathing soft. You moved the covers, snuggling under them with a wince at moving your leg. You put your arms around Azriel's body, pulling him close.

He shifted slightly. "When did you get back?" he asked, his voice sleepy.

You moved your head so you could smile at him. "A few minutes ago." you whispered before pressing your face against his chest. The burning feeling in your leg got worse, but you pushed it away, ignoring it.

"Did everything go well?"

You tensed, but tried to brush it off. "Yes. But I had to leave earlier. Otherwise I would've been caught." you said a bit hesitant.

Azriel didn't say anything at first. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

You moved your head from his chest, looking up at him. You hated yourself for lying to your mate, but there would be no trace of the wound by the morning. It would start healing soon.

"I'm completely fine." you whispered reassuringly.

He cupped your cheek, looking into your eyes, almost if searching your face for any signs of pain. When he only found a soft smile on your lips he relaxed. "I believe you. I'm just glad you're back so early." he said, kissing you.

After breaking the kiss he pulled you closer against him. Your thigh grazed against the matras. The pain was becoming more unbearable with every second.

Azriel didn't seem to notice your flicker of pain as he planted a kiss on top of your head, resting his chin on your head after.

You must've fallen asleep at some point, because when you woke up again it was long past midnight. It didn't take long before realizing what woke you up.

Sweat was dripping down your entire body. You felt too hot. No too cold. No, both.

Your head was pounding like crazy. Nausea filled your body. You quickly moved over the side of the bed, emptying your stomach on the ground next to the bed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Azriel had immediately woken up, putting his hands on your arms and inspecting your body.

You wanted to move away from him, but noticed you weren't able to move your injured leg.

You pulled up your shorts, revealing the wound which was supposed to be healed after all these hours. Instead, the wound was flaming red, your veins around the wound having turned black.

"Shit." you cursed yourself for being so stupid.

Azriel noticed the wound. His eyes widened. "What the hell happened?" he asked, concern lining his voice.

You tried to swallow down another wave of nausea. Sweat was starting to drip down your body faster, dark spots clouding your vision. "Arrow..." you managed to creak out. Trying to talk felt so exhausting.

"Shit. Why didn't you say anything? Did you pull it out yourself?" he questioned, but you didn't answer. Your mind couldn't really fully process his words.

The door to your room barged open, revealing a confused Rhys alongside Azriel's shadows. "What's going on?" he asked, his eyes falling on your fragile body.

"I think she got hit by a poisonous arrow. It has to be." his eyes locked with yours again. "Right? That's what happened right? Please tell me what happened."

You could only stare at him as dark spots slowly started blurring out his face. You couldn't respond to him. You didn't know how to.

"Can you hear me? Please say something. Anything at all." he asked with way too much concern in his voice. He put his hands on either side of your face.

You blinked at him. Your body started to feel like jelly. Like you couldn't move at all. Or think. Or hear.

Azriel's lips moved. At least you say them move when the black spots weren't covering his lips.

His lips. Your mates lips. The lips that had kissed you so many times. Your eyes were glued on them.

He was still talking. At least you think he was talking. The only sound you could hear was ringing.

People ran into the room as the world turned darker and darker until you couldn't see anything at all.

"Az?"

The world was spinning. Light slowly broke through your closed eyes, head still pounding like crazy, but you weren't burning anymore.

Someone was holding your hand. The warmth of a body pressed against yours.

You opened your eyes, wincing at the light that came into the room, which immediately disappeared.

Shadows covered the windows, flickering ever so slightly.

The warm body moved. "How are you feeling?" Azriel's voice sounded unsure.

You looked around the room for a few seconds. Then your eyes fell on your mate. It took a moment to remember what had happened earlier.

"I am so, so sorry Azriel." you blurted out.

He placed his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"You're not even mad?" you questioned quietly. "I can explain everything, I-" he cut you off by kissing you.

"Again, I'm just glad you're okay. And yes, I was very angry. I still am." he told you. "But now is not the time to be mad at you."

You looked away, feeling embarrassed by your own stupidity.

"Rhys had to look into your mind. The poison was slowly reaching your head. He saw what happened and how you hid it from us." Azriel told you softly. "I think he is the most mad out of the two of us. But he too is happy that you're alive."

You nodded, not sure what to say. You had fucked up really bad.

"Can you please look at me? There is absolutely no need to feel embarrassed." he said. You slowly turned your eyes to his beautiful face "I'm sorry you felt like you needed to hide your injuries from me."

You just responded with a nod.

Azriel pulled you closer, wrapping a wing protectively around your body. "You're on bedrest for the rest of the day until the poison is fully out of your system. Madja told me that you might suffer from some hallucinations today, but that it should be over by tonight." he said, kissing the top of your head after finishing his sentence.

You finally relaxed in his arms. "I understand if you have to go. I know you're probably busy, so please don't be held up by me."

A small chuckle rumbled through Azriel's body. "If you even think I'm leaving your side for one second, you're wrong." he claimed. "Work can wait. All I care about is you. There is notbing more important than you." he told you, drawing soft circles on your back.

You smiled, hiding your face into his chest. "I love you." you told him. He replied by placing another kiss on top of your head. He forced you to look upward so he could kiss your forehead, then your temples, then your cheeks and finally your mouth.

A giggle left your lips at that. You couldn't wish for a better mate.

[grandisknight]

zayne: a doctor's companion

summary: A certain healthcare companion finds its way into Linkon City, and a particular doctor is about to discover what it means to say ba-la-la-la-lah.

tags: established relationship, baymax (big hero 6), fluff, canon-complaint, one-shot, medical terms, phone call, gender neutral reader mentioned, mostly zayne's POV, first meetings

word count: 1.8k | (ao3)

notes: inspired by this tweet! also i just love baymax a lot and i think him and zayne would be a cute duo thank you ; including the stanford article i read for the surgery mentioned here! (not necessary for understanding though) (also if i get any med stuff wrong apologies i did my best! i was a girl in stem but not Stem yk)

+ update: the cutest zayne baymax art just dropped everyone say thank you mimi (zaynefied) (i cried)

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

Zayne was sure he had slept well the night before. Had his full eight hours, breakfast accomplished and a handful of kisses from his partner before heading out in his pristine, white coat. The drive to work was the same scenery of Linkon City rushing past, soon parked in his designated lot and tracing a familiar path towards Akso Hospital’s entrance.

So, even with such a practiced routine, how did he end up here? 

“I will scan you now. Please remain in place, Dr. Zayne.”

Zayne raises a hand in an effort to dissuade his unforeseen guest. “That won't be necessary.” But his rejection, in turn, was rejected itself—his brows narrowed at the losing notion.

“But it is. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” The robot calmly states, reflecting a similar monotone diction to the doctor. “I was alerted to the need of medical attention,” he continues, plush footsteps along the hardwood floor squeaking as he approaches the seated doctor. "When you said 'Oof.' So, I am here."

That singular oof traced back to the faint murmur under Zayne's breath just minutes ago when pushing through the growing crowd of peering eyes at Baymax's unprecedented presence. An unusual sight for everyday work life, the mysterious yet kind robot drew in the attention of incoming patients and passersby who happened to catch a glimpse. Zayne’s opportune timing and arrival to work hurriedly whisked away the looming inflatable as crowds huddled in growing excitement, geeking and gossiping alike. Most of his efforts thus far were put into escorting the curiously soft giant through the pristine halls and past the doorway of his office without garnering further unwarranted attention.

And currently, Zayne found himself subjected to a consultation by said robot.

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Baymax inquires. A chart of faces ranging in emotion and color flash over his chest in display. At the highest end stood a red expression painted in anguish, and to the lowest was a green facade of serenity.

Quickly, Zayne plainly states his number to mirror his current state. “Zero.”

Baymax stares him down with the abyss of his rather blank eyes wordlessly after receiving the response. In mere seconds, a pixelated, monotone hum with a hint of warmth made its way to Zayne’s ears. “Scan complete. You have sustained no recent injuries. However, your cortisol and neurotransmitter levels indicate that you are experiencing stress.”

No, really? Zayne’s brows and posture straightened then, removing his glasses and setting them aside. He echoes the conclusion, pushing down the unspoken remark with a bite of his tongue. “Stress? Is that so?”

Baymax nods, holding up a singular finger as he continues to reveal his findings. “This can be attributed to, for example, overconsumption of sugary foods or work overload. Have you had any of these two things recently?”

Zayne’s lips purse in thought, remembering the new maple syrup you had doused his pancakes in over an hour ago. ‘I picked this up during an overseas mission and thought you might like it,’ you explained to him, drawing an intricately sticky pattern of hearts atop his breakfast. It was still just syrup—not so much a difference in flavor to a regular one you could find at the nearby supermarket—but he was grateful for the gift nonetheless as he indulged in the sweet treat with you.

“Sugar, yes. Nothing wrong with it when done in moderation.”

Sure, he had a sweet tooth. But had been doing well to maintain a healthy intake of sugary pieces, lest he wanted another round of your ‘scoldings’ and an appointment to the neighboring orthodontist again.

With a slight sigh, he clasps his hands together over the expanse of his desk and continues. As for workload? He was almost always caught up in it, whether it were hands-on procedures or consultations. Today was no exception to the rule.

“And I do have work, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“I see. May I make a suggestion?” Baymax asks.

Zayne gives him a curt signal of acknowledgement. “You may.”

“I can assist you with said workload. I am equipped with several modules and sensors that will be of use.”

Zayne contemplates for a moment, curious to the veracity of such a claim. Well, when one forms a hypothesis, the best way to test out the theory was through a designed experiment; and he was ready to do just that. “Alright. Give me just a moment.”

With a couple of speedy taps, Zayne pulls up a recent patient file and gestures for Baymax to approach. As the airy robot bounces into place beside him, Zayne points towards a diagram, a series of numbers and waves indicating observational data. “Here. Based on what you see, can you tell me what surgery this patient underwent?”

Baymax follows the trail of red lines, analyzing quickly in succession. “Their ECG fluctuations are affected by the noraderaline administrations over time. This line,” Baymax points to a blue parallel. “Indicates the oxygen levels throughout the surgery duration.” Calmly, he turns to blink at Zayne. “Diagnosis? The patient underwent a coronary artery bypass grafting procedure.”

Zayne nodded. Each detail was right on par, much to his surprise. “I’m impressed. Your creator must have put a lot of great effort into you.”

“He did. He was wonderful.” Baymax gives a thumbs up in return. “Am I to take it that I have passed your test?”

So he knew, even without having to say anything. “You have,” Zayne confirms with a small smile.

“Here.” Baymax raises his fingers and curls them into a fist, waiting for Zayne to meet him halfway. Slowly, Zayne does just that, meeting the soft plush before it was pulled away and sealed with a robotic tune.

“Ba-la-la-la-lah.”

“Bah… What now?”

“We have completed our first task together. This warrants a celebratory fist bump.” Baymax returns his enclosed fist towards the confused doctor once more. “You must also say it while our fists connect.”

Not finding it in himself to disagree, Zayne repeats the actions from before and adds on with an unsure, “Ba-la-lah.” Slightly strange, though it held a tinge of endearment that reminded him of a certain someone; he suddenly didn’t mind it as much then, shaking his head to himself.

It satisfied Baymax all the same, hand wiggling away before a sound disrupts the next file to be displayed. Zayne’s phone rings then, a custom set of notes indicating there was only one special caller. Your name flashed on his screen, buzzing in patience as his gaze flicked between that and Baymax.

“Do you mind if I take this?”

Baymax blinks. “I do not mind.”

“Thank you.”

With a swipe, Zayne presses his phone to the cup of his ear, voice softening to answer your call. “Good morning. Are you heading out now?”

“Morning! How did you know?” 

Zayne could make out the rustling of keys with the pattern of your footsteps, a light yet amused scoff from him trickling into the receiver. Even if it weren’t for the traces of noise, you usually left around this time and always texted him a new emoji without missing a day. So, of course he knew. You followed up almost immediately with another answer to support your stance. 

“New mission just came in, and it happens to be near Akso. Guess we’ll be seeing each other again pretty soon.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks at the idea. “What requires you to be in the area, exactly?” Zayne’s hazel hues instinctively settle on the black pools of Baymax’s blink, already knowing the answer that you proceeded to relay.

“There was a… Wanderer sighted?” Even over the phone, your voice relayed doubt amidst a warm crackling sound. “Well it’s not exactly one…allegedly. But rather something big, round and white? Tara said it looked like a walking marshmallow,” you chuckled. Well, it’s not like you were wrong, Zayne confirms with another glance.

“Either way, it’s caused an uproar and the Association is sending me to check it out. I’m assuming you already know what it is?”

“I do.” Baymax tilts his head, pointing a finger to himself in quiet curiosity. Zayne raises his own to his mouth, indicating for a secret to be kept as he muses into the call. “And no, not a Wanderer. Stop by my office when you get here and you’ll see.”

“I’ll be there in 15 if traffic is kind to me,” you chirped in reply. He could make out the humming of your motorcycle come to life, indicating the start of your journey. “See you then! Love you.”

“Alright. Love you too. Be safe.”

As the call came to an end, Zayne shifted his gaze to the even shiftier companion before him. Though Baymax couldn’t necessarily smile, the doctor could feel it radiating off of its plush form as he lifted a familiar finger.

“Your pulse and heart rate have quickened greatly. The rate went from 87 beats per minute to 102 in about ten seconds.” Baymax pauses, and a screen with infographics begins to luminate across his chest once more. “Symptoms may include, but are not limited to, your pituitary glands—“

“I’m aware of how hearts work.” Zayne gestures around to their environment, the glimmer of his name tag reflecting the morning sun filtering through the tall windows. “And… everything else.”

He was a cardiac surgeon, first and foremost. His efforts and contributions have earned him plenty of accolades in the field, a testament to his brilliance and especially at a younger age in comparison to his medical peers. But second to none was he also your partner—naturally, his heart would’ve soared regardless. He was aware of the source to his increased palpitations.

“You are also smiling,” Baymax comments. “Does this person make you happy?”

Zayne freezes then, unbeknownst of how the edges of his lips were curled into a gentle grin. His mouth almost straightens, fingertips brushing over them in thought. He lets out a resounding hum in confirmation, looking away bashfully for a brief moment. “Very much so.”

“That is good. Having someone who makes you ‘happy’ will improve your quality of life.” As if sending him his seal of approval, Baymax gives an affirmative fist of encouragement. No sooner did a wrapped lollipop appear between said fist, and he held it towards Zayne in offering. “Here, have a lollipop.”

“Thank you.” Zayne takes the candy in acceptance, wrapper crinkling in removal before a taste of winterberry spreads across his tongue. “Shall we go through another file until a certain someone comes barging in?”

He could already imagine how your grand entrance would play out, and this time, knowingly smiles to himself at the thought.

With an enthusiastic nod, Baymax takes a nearby chair and places it beside Zayne’s own. Deflating slightly to fit the mold, he puffs up once more in preparation.

“I am ready. Let’s work together, Dr. Zayne.”

[mattsnight]

Help - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt helps y/n release her stress

Warnings: unprotected sex (always do it safe!!), oral (female!receiving), stress, anxiety, cursing, use of y/n.

A/N: ANOTHER KINKTOBER FIC! also make sure you check out my other kinktober fics

Not proofread

You’ve been working all day and you were so tired. You just wanted to get away from your laptop and watch a movie with your boyfriend. But that simply wasn’t possible, because you had to finish this presentation by tomorrow. It was making you sick. The uneasy feeling of having to do a full presentation for 10 people. I mean, you’ve done it before, but this one was so much more important.

Matt on the other hand, didn’t really do much today. He was cleaning up a bit and just hung out with his brothers to give you some space alone. The only thing that bothered him all day was your health. He cared for you so deeply and hated seeing you all stressed over work. He hated that he couldn’t do anything about it.

You get another phone call. An irritated groan leaves your mouth before you answer it. It’s your colleague Anna. She asks you if you can do her a favor and before you can say anything she interrupts. This is what you hated the most about having to deal with others at work. “I need to do this report, but im on vacation so you can take over, right?” Anna asks. She always tries to put her work onto your big pile of stuff. You couldn’t take it all and she seemed to forget about that.

Matt gently opens the door, noticing your stressful state and decides to help you. He makes his way over to you. Your head shoots up at him. You point to your phone to let him know you’re on a call, but he doesn’t seem to care. He drops down to his knees in front of you, caressing your thighs with his fingers before replacing it with kisses. A soft gasp leaves your mouth. You quickly put your hand over your mouth to hide the noises.

Matt pulls your shorts down. Soon enough after that he pulls your panties to the side. His long middle finger moves against your already wet folds, you can’t help but bite your lip. Anna keeps talking but at this point you cannot focus on her.

“So yeah, you’ll do it right?” She asks.

“A-Anna im too busy.. s-sorry…” you replied as your mouth falls open in satisfaction of Matt’s finger against your sensitive bud. Anna is most likely confused about your reply. You cut her off by hanging up, throwing your phone to the side before looking down at Matt. His fingers are now teasing your hole and his mouth is blowing smoke against your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as you pull him closer by gripping his hair. He gives in. His tongue now swirling against your clit while his fingers are pushed deep inside of you. You can’t help but moan at the pleasure you’re getting from this.

Matt doesn’t keep you on edge for long, his movements speeding up as he feels you clench around him. “Fuck Matt! Im gonna cum.” You cry out as your back arches itself. A loud gasp leaves your mouth as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

“Jus’ came all over m’fuckin’ face, doll.” He smirks up at you, putting his fingers into your mouth. “Suck on em.” You do as he says, sucking gently on his fingers, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a satisfied grin on his face. He feels himself getting harder within milliseconds. It’s getting extremely uncomfortable, so he pulls himself out. Your mouth falls open at how hard he is. You’ve seen him naked before. It was great and all, but he was never THIS hard. His strong arms pick you up and gently put you down on the bed. He lines himself up at your entrance before pushing in.

“Such a good girl.” He says, pulling your shirt up, revealing your beautiful round tits. He gives them a light squeeze. His cock is now deep inside of you. His movements are getting quick. The both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, lost in the pleasure.

Matt lets go first, cumming deep inside of you. You come after that, your cum all over his cock. He pulls himself out carefully before falling down on the bed next to you. “That was fucking amazing.” He pants as his hands trail over your stomach. “You less stressed now?” He asks. You nod, feeling anything but stressed out right now.

He could do something about it after all.

EEE I LOVE THIS!! TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS BTWW😯

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Starstudded

Warnings: handjob (n receiving) car sex, riding, kind of public sex, p in v, unprotected sex

Pairings: intersex virgin Natasha x Fem reader

highschool au

Word count: 2.6k

This relates to this post I made: Here

Natasha was taking you out on a date for your 6-month anniversary. She had devised the idea to take you out on a picnic date during the sunset. When you agreed to do this with her, a warm smile coated her face. It was something you loved to see and made you happy.

Once you had helped Natasha load the truck the two of you started to drive down to the park. Natasha immediately started to ramble on about the new Tv she started watching with her mom.

"Y/n, you won't believe me on how cool the CGI looked in this episode until you actually watch it with me. Please watch it with me." She says to you, turning her head to the side to see you looking at her. Her lips curled upwards before she turned her head back to the road.

"Mhm, I will Tash, but you gotta tell me when they air baby. You have a habit of watching the episodes and not telling me when you're watching them."

"Oh, yeah-I'll tell you next time, 'swear. I'm sorry!" She tells you, her hand running through her hair and returning right back to the wheel.

"No need to be sorry Nat, I know it wasn't on purpose so I'm not mad." You tell her, before looking out the window on your side. You stare at all of the tall buildings and people walking on sidewalks. It was one of the best things about living in the city.

The car was soon quiet with a comfortable silence. The only things you could hear were the soft music of the radio and cars driving past Natasha's.

you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, and you notice Natasha's hand slowly making its way to your knee, her touch feels warm and reassuring to you. She was too shy to move her hand up closer to your thigh even though the two of you have been dating for 6 months.

Her hand moved up on down slowly, she was hoping you wouldn't say anything about it. Natasha's head occasionally looked at you when you weren't looking. She loved you so much and never wanted to end it.

The last 5 minutes passed in the car. Natasha parked in a parking spot and got out of the car. You followed out and left the car as well, heading over to the trunk to get to blanket Natasha had bought just for this date. You smiled at it and looked at Natasha once more who was carrying the basket that had the food you two had bought, and her telescope.

"You really love that thing huh?" You ask her eyeing the telescope she had in her left hand, laughing a little.

"What? My telescope?" She responded back, closing the trunk and looking at you.

"Mhm, love it more than me?" You said back to her a fake pout coating over your face.

"No! I love you more than this telescope y/n! Sure, it was 3,000 dollars and I did have to do lots of begging for it, but I love you way more." Natasha pleaded with you, almost dropping the two things in her hand

"I was just joking Nat, of course, I know that you love me, my love. Now let's go find a good spot to set up this stuff Kay?"

She nodded her head slightly, trying not to make her glasses fall off of her face. Natasha locked the car and started walking over to the grassy area. You followed right behind her, catching up to her and walking beside her.

After strolling for a few minutes, the perfect spot to lay down your belongings finally revealed itself. It offered a beautiful vantage point to take in the stunning cityscape. Without delay, you began to unfurl the blanket, smoothing out the creases and placing it gently on the soft grass. Meanwhile, Natasha diligently assembled her trusty telescope, ensuring that it was properly aligned. so the both of you could see the stars and hopefully a planet.

Natasha let out a happy sigh, being satisfied with her work, and walked over to you. Seeing you already sat down on the blanket, she laid down right next to you. Her eyes gazed upon your face. She had the softest look on her face, you swear you could see a sparkle in her eyes when you looked down at her.

"You're so pretty y/n/n. I could stare at you forever, just like the stars." Natasha tells you before sitting up. A smile comes up on your face and you give her a kiss, her cheeks heating up with red.

"You're too cute Tasha." You tell her bringing her into a hug. Natasha let out a laugh and hugged you back.

"Can we eat y/n? I'm soooo hungry." She tells you, immediately switching topics but still hugging you.

"Of course Nat, you don't have to ask me you know." You tell her and pull away from the hug, reaching over to the basket and grabbing the food that Natasha packed for herself and giving it to her.

"Thank you, y/n/n," she said to you before she started savoring her food. She managed to get the workers at a popular sandwich place to cut her bread into two stars. It was the cutest thing ever, seeing her open up the plastic and eat her star-shaped sandwiches, You reciprocated her smile and reached for your own meal from the basket, enjoying it alongside her.

▹ 𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱𖹭⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤

Natasha and you had finished your meal. You two had talked about life in general. Natasha brought up how she was gonna bring her guitar out here but Melina said no because she already brought her telescope and she knew Natasha would drop one and break it.

"You don't understand y/n! I had this amazing song written for you, planned just for tonight and she goes and tells me I can't bring my guitar? It's so stupid!" She told you, her face frowning up.

"Hey, it's okay Natasha. I bet Melina would let me come over tomorrow after school, play it for me then okay?"

"M'kay, but it won't be the same..." She whispers the last part and lays down on the blanket, right next to where you were laying.

"Natasha it's gonna sound beautiful either way I know it." You reassure her and move over to your side so you can see her. You see her looking up at the sky trying to see any stars, her hands laying on her stomach. It was a comforting view.

After a while, Natasha shifted onto her side and fixed her gaze upon you. As your eyes met, a profound sense of connection seemed to pass between you both, enveloping you in a shared moment of contemplation and understanding.

Natasha moved closer to you and put her hands on your face. "I-is this okay?" She asks you, always wanting your reassurance whenever she touched you.

"Mhm." You whisper out to her. Her lips met yours, your hands wrapping around her back as you kissed her passionately. The only thing you two could hear was the sound of cars driving past the park and the wind moving the tree branches around.

By now most people had left the park, the only people that passed were peopled that walked and ran late at night. Natasha pulled away from the kiss and looked at you.

"Could we um-do this in the car?" She whispered out to you, even though no one was around. Her face getting red as she looked down at her pants.

"Sure baby, but do you have a reason why?" You tried to act like you didn't know why she wanted to go into the car, but you obviously knew, feeling the hard-on Natasha had.

"I-I don't know." She replies back to you, looking in every direction except your face. you let out a chuckle and look away.

You sat yourself up and started to put all the trash away in the basket you had brought out. Natasha quickly stood herself up and covered her hands where her hard-on was, turning her back towards you quickly so she could put her telescope she didn't use away.

You quickly folded the blanket that was placed on the grass and grabbed the two items. You waited for Natasha to finish folding her telescope before you went down to the car.

"You don't have to wait y/n. Just take the keys I'll be down there in a second. She tells you, giving you the car keys. You walked down to the car and loaded the trunk once more. You got back into the passenger seat and waited on Natasha to get in the car.

A couple minutes later she entered the car. Her hands still covering her hard-on, and her face was looking out the window, still not trying to look at you.

"Do you need help with that baby?" You ask her, moving her hand away from her cock and palming her through her sweatpants. A low groan left her mouth as she threw her head back against the seats.

"Please." She whined out to you, her hips already moving up from your movements.

"Already so hard for me Nat? Didn't even do anything and you're hard huh baby?" You tell her before slipping down her sweatpants, leaving her in only a hoodie and boxers.

Her cock standing up in its confinements only made Nat needier for you, a small wet stain was now prominent at the top of her boxers. She let out loud and shaky breaths and she waited for you to do something.

You slowly pull down Natasha's boxers, her cock springing out and hitting her stomach, a moan leaves her mouth when you circle her tip with your thumb, slowly bringing one of your hands down to jerk her off. Her hips move up at their own pace to fuck your hand.

"F-fuck, y/n if you keep doing that I'll cum too fast s-slow down please" She moaned out to you, her hands gripping the side of the seats while you jerked her off.

Loud moans kept on falling from her mouth as you moved your hand up and down faster around her, using your hand and squeezing it just a bit so it could stimulate Natasha's pleasure.

"Look so cute right now Tash, your cock is always so needy for me hm?" She looks at you again, her eyes hazy and her mouth opened, moan after moan leaving her mouth.

"Oh fuck y/n i'-"

With an attempt at a warning, Natasha cums all over her her hoodie and your hand. Her hips bucked into your hand slightly as you slowed down your movements.

"Good job Nat." You tell her before giving her a kiss on the lips. You pull away after a few seconds and see that her face is flushed with red, her mid-length hair sticking to her face as she looked up at you.

"Y/n-i'm still hard." She tells you while looking down at her cock, her glasses had some fog on them so she took them off and sat them on the dashboard.

"Go sit down in the back Nat, let me ride you." You tell her, Natasha doesn't need to hear another word before she's climbing over the storage compartment and into the backseat. She quickly takes off her hoodie, leaving her in only a wifebeater. She lets out a groan while she waits for you.

You quickly slip down your sundress leaving you in only a bra and panties, you make your way to the backseat where Natasha was waiting and sit on her lap.

"Are we gonna do this here y/n, I mean, what if we get caught?" She asks you coming a little scared of having sex in the back of her car.

"Do you not want to do it anymore? If you don't want to that's find, but I just jerked you off Nat." You tell her looking straight into her face.

"No-no I still want to do it, just please hurry it's starting to hurt. And my mom is gonna wonder why I'm out so late so we have to make this quick y/n/n" Natasha tells you before kissing your neck, her hands making their way to your back and unclasping your bra.

You quickly move your panties to the side while Natasha is occupied kissing your neck. You slowly sink yourself down onto Natasha's cock. You needed a couple minutes to adjust to her because she was so big.

Natasha stopped kissing your neck and let out another loud moan into the car.

"Feel so good in me Nat." You moan out to her and wrap your arms around her, sinking down onto her cock once more, you slowly get down to the base of her cock.

"So full baby, you fill mommy up so good my love." You tell Natasha, her head resting in the crook of your neck as you started moving your hips up and down.

The both of you let out loud moans as you rode her. Her hands make their wait onto your waist and move you up and down. Natasha's eyebrows are scrunched as she focuses on your pussy squeezing her cock. You two have had sex a couple of times, but she's so hooked on your pussy.

"S-so good y/n." She moans into your ear, her hips thrusting up at the same time as you. The windows were all fogged up now, the car being humid and hot. Your hand reached out to the window, leaving your handprint on the glass.

Natasha moved one of her hands away from your waist and onto your clit, making you moan out into the air. Her fingers fastened their pace when she saw the look on your face.

"Does that feel good y/n?" She asks you in between shaky breaths.

"Mhm, keep doing that baby." You tell her and lean your forehead against hers. Your hips getting faster as you got closer to your orgasm, you could tell Natasha was already close by the way her eyes started to close.

"Shit, cum with me y/n please." She begs out to you, the one hand she had on your waist tightening.

After a few more seconds you finally came around her cock, squeezing around her tightly so she can finish.

"Oh my god y/n," Natasha whispers into your ear before letting go inside of you, her hot cum painting the inside of your walls. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence as you catch your breath.

"That was good, thank you y/n," Natasha tells you before she helps you get off of her cock.

"Of course baby, but I do think we should get back home, it's already 11:30 and you said you were gonna be home by 10." You tell her before putting your sundress back on and giving Natasha her boxers and pants.

"Already?! Uhhhh, fuck my hoodie. Um, can you take it home with you y/n, I already know I'm gonna get questioned by my parents about why I'm out so late and these stains aren't gonna make it better?" She tells you handing the hoodie over shyly.

"Of course Nat, I'm gonna keep it for a few weeks because it will remind me of you when you're not next to me," you tell Natasha and smile before getting back up to the front seat.

Natasha follows closely behind you, coming up to sit in the driver's seat, she grabs her glasses and cleans them with her shirt and puts the back on her face

"I had a fun time tonight y/n."

"Me too Tash, don't forget I'm coming over tomorrow to listen to your song so you better be ready okay?"

"Okay, I promise I'll be up before 12," She tells you and you both laugh at her promise.

"Yeah, you better, or else I'm telling Melina to take away all of your comics."

"Ha ha ha, you're so funny y/n," Natasha tells you before she starts driving out of the park and driving you back to your house.

[nsharks]

weyy idk if ur taking reqs rn but if u are… ik youve already wrote this prompt like twice but can we have more argument angst w ghost 😭😭

simon struggles with anger (you struggle to help him) ���tags: brief gore mention, cursing, angst, argument, established "situationship" —part two here

His fingers find the crest of your waist in the dark, holding you against the side of him as shallow breaths pound in his chest. Your lips are puffy and red. You wipe your hand against your used mouth and curl up into the warmth radiated from the colossal form beside you.

"Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, a low rasp. "I swear... Where'd a pretty thing like you learn all that, huh?"

But, with a flush to your cheeks, you barely have time to part your lips before he grumbles into your hair:

"Don't answer that."

It's a quiet order. One that rumbles low under his heavy breathing. Because Simon is full of orders. Demands. In bed, it thrills you, incites a thrum in your veins, an urge to follow and please him. He will take, and demand— until your legs are sore and your skin is chafed. But sometimes this persona bleeds into life outside of his bed. You try to be patient. You try to understand how difficult it must be to adjust to being just a person, here with you, and not a SAS lieutenant.

Especially for him.

But where Simon is rough and demanding, he is also quiet and thoughtful.

He moves his hand to the underbelly of your jaw. Softly now, he mutters, "Need water?"

"Yes, please," you answer, hoarseness in your voice.

And soon the warmth beside you ghosts out of his bedroom to fulfill your request, leaving you with a few moments to feel the tiredness in your limbs. He'd kept you up longer than you anticipated. He usually did.

But a sharp ding from your phone widens your eyes.

A message.

Your phone— casually placed on his desk in the corner of his room.

You hadn't meant to leave it there, not when his desk was particularly off-limits to you. Another order of his: don't touch my stuff. Even though Simon wanted you over every night, he didn't want you meddling in the crevices of his privacy. You did your best to respect that, but in the heat of removing your clothes, the phone in your pocket had ended up on the nearest surface.

You tug on just your shirt. Bare feet against cold floor. But when you reach for your phone, you carelessly brush a hand against the notebook beside it, nudging it off the desk.

It sits on the floor with the spine propped up, pages parted.

It's terrible, the curiosity that itches from the sight.

You reach for it with your tongue poking your cheek. You shouldn't look. A whisper of warning echoes in your mind. His privacy, his trust— you valued those things. But perhaps it's the fact that Simon is still such an enigma to you, or perhaps the fact that you immediately notice penned sketches on the paper, but you pick it up and can't stop yourself from taking a peak at the opened page.

The inked images stun you.

Only for a second can you bear them.

A brief second filled with... horrid things. Gruesome things. Things you knew, deep down, he'd seen, but you never wanted to entertain the detailed reality of. The sight spurs something in your stomach: nausea, maybe. An unease that twists and churns and urges you to clamp the notebook shut with a gasp.

You shouldn't have looked.

And you're about to set it back down—

But a presence makes itself known behind you.

"What are you doin'?"

His voice is quietly tense. Enough to snap you out of the images brandished in your mind. If the moonlit room is a river, then his words are a stone— splintering the surface.

"Oh, I—" you stutter, looking at the notebook in your hand. "I was just—"

But you can't finish. No— there's a hand ripping it from you.

"Just what?"

In the dark, you turn to face him. He sets down the glass of water on his desk; flicks on the small lamp. The light reveals to you the pits of inky black in his eyes, notebook gripped tightly in his hand.

"I was just trying to grab my phone, Simon," you explain in a murmur.

"Right," a click of his tongue. Animosity presses against his teeth. You see it, you feel it. And you wish you could clamp your eyes shut and return to the moment, not so long ago, when he'd been holding you with warmth.

He holds the notebook up. "Does this... look like your phone?"

"No, it just fell—"

"Liar," he interjects, cold and low. "You were going through my stuff."

"I wasn't," you insist, shaking your head. "I mean... I may have taken a peek but only because it opened—"

"You..." a sharp inhale. "Took a peek, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"How many times do I have to—" he closes his eyes for a moment, but they reopen with a hollow flame. "You never fuckin' listen, I swear. Do you have a thick skull?”

And maybe it's the way he is staring at you, or the lick of venom in his insult, but you mumble: "Well, maybe you shouldn't have me stay here if you can't handle people touching any of your things."

"No," he grits. "Maybe you need to be more obedient."

He holds your stare.

A presence that nearly smothers you.

But you squint your eyes through the tension. "Obedient? Really? I mean— do you hear yourself? I am human and I accidentally dropped your book—"

"Don't," he breathes through his nose, a flare under the mask. "Don't give me that. Goin' thought my shit when I told you not to. Now you wanna stand here with bloody excuses. You are so..."

"So what?" you snap softly. A hand grips the end of your shirt to properly cover yourself because right now, you're not sure if you want those eyes looking at you.

But he doesn't finish, just pinches the bridge of his nose and stares off at the wall behind you. Muscles beneath the fabric of his mask twitch and ripple and shudder with a curl of rage.

"I told you," he repeats, more to himself than to you. "I told you so many goddamn times. Fuckin' hell, you make me... I want to just— Jesus Christ. Why can't you listen to something so simple?"

"You know, Simon," you retort under your breath. "You have so much to say when you're pissed, don't you?" You huff out a breath. "Somehow you have no problem finding the right words to tell me I've done something wrong. But when it comes time to tell me you care, that's so hard, right? When was the last time you even said it? You can't find the words for those feelings?"

"Shut it," he orders— no, barks. The curl of anger flickers and seethes and looks back at you, staring you down as if you are an enemy who has gotten in his way. His free hand clenches. You regret everything you've said. "Shut up, I swear to God. You went through my shit. You have no fuckin' right to talk about how I feel."

And then he is pacing around, a short trajectory of thunderous footsteps. His chest heaves. Ragged breaths claw up his throat until his voice raises to a level you haven't heard before:

"You want me to talk about how I fuckin’ feel? I feel nothing."

The snarl of his words is loud but easily drowned out by the sound of the notebook hitting the wall. It's a sudden sound that jolts you.

And maybe, maybe now you see it— how much of a lie he has shouted. I feel nothing. But there is so much feeling, so much unadulterated anger and pain thrown against the wall that it causes tears to quiver at the rims of your eyes. And your stomach churns, not with nausea this time but with something else, a feeling that grips your shoulders and tucks you a few steps further away from him.

Because at this moment Simons scares you.

And with all his orders, all his demands, he has never truly scared you before.

And if the fear wasn't there, you might've realized why he felt this way. You might've realized the images in his notebook were pieces of himself he was so terrified for you to see, and it angered him more than anything that, despite his efforts, he couldn't hide them from you forever.

He only snaps out of it when he sees you.

Moments pass, and then Simon is looking back at you with wild eyes. Eyes that flicker over you— your hunched body, your hands pressed against the wall behind you because you've backed up so far, the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he mutters, quieter now. He drags a hand over his eyes. "Babe, I—"

But when he tries to take a step closer, you flinch further.

"Please," you whisper. A few tears escape. "I want to... I want to go home."

I want to get away from you.

"It's late," he argues weakly, still struggling to control his breath. His anger fizzles rapidly, leaving behind a shell of regret and pain and worry as he watches you reach for your pants.

You're tugging them up your legs with fingers that fumble.

"Y/N," Simon swallows, pressing his hands over his veiled forehead. "Don't. I will— Fuck, I'll go."

And you don't have time to protest. With hands that tremble, Simon begins pacing around the room again, this time not in anger. No— something that has him mumbling quietly under his breath over and over: "I'll go, I'll go."

He grabs his keys and keeps his eyes on the floor. "You stay here, yeah? Don't... don't go out so late."

A bob of his throat.

This order arrives in a voice that sounds frail and hollow.

"Okay," you whisper, nodding.

And he leaves. Tugging on his coat and within seconds, you hear the sound of his front door shut. Simon, the man who was just blistered with anger over his privacy, leaves you here to sleep in his own home without him. And you're too shaken, too exhausted, to wonder where he could possibly go for the rest of the night.

------

Simon was always saying he would quit smoking.

Bad for my lungs, pet, I know it. He would mumble against your lips in a kiss that tasted sour. It didn't bother you, but you noticed how the taste turned thicker during those days he'd shut himself away in his room.

Got to help me, pet. He had said one time into your neck, tucking a pack in your hand. Hide 'em from me, yeah?

(The only request for help he's ever uttered.)

But it didn't really matter where you hid them—

—Simon could always buy more.

And when he returns the next morning, the smell is pungent.

You're already awake. A small bag stuffed with your things, but you are quick to hide it when you hear the front door creak open.

A shuffling of boots.

While his footsteps had been thunderous before, a solemn calm now replaces the storm.

Wordlessly, he searches for you. He finds you frozen in place near the bathroom where you'd just been collecting your things— a toothbrush, a tube of makeup. But your bag is placed on the counter where he can't see.

"Hey," he offers a soft, hoarse greeting. "Didn't expect you to be here."

And then he holds up a bagged pastry and a to-go canister of tea. "Got you breakfast, jus' in case."

It shouldn't be so strange. The sight. His large hands gripping food from some nearby cafe. His eyes: red, worn. He looks like he didn't sleep. The air outside is brittle and already wintery: had he just walked around all night in the cold? And even now, with the hollow pit in your stomach left from your crying, a touch of concern finds you when you notice how pale his exposed skin is. A slight pink creeping from under the mask.

"I don't want a pastry and tea."

Your voice. Is it—?

Defeated.

Because your care and concern can only go so far with a man who slips so easily into anger, but with even greater ease, isolates himself from care.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “I’ll jus’ leave it in the kitchen, then. You could have it later.”

Avoidance.

Is he really just going to pretend—?

“You scared me last night.”

The admission slips out in a whisper. But it's enough. It's all he needs to hear for his eyes to dig shut, a visible flinch rippling through his broad shoulders. His avoidance cracks.

A gruff, "I know."

"You were so angry, Simon. I—"

Dark eyes flutter back open. Gently now, "I would never hurt you."

"But you did. You do." A swallow that tastes salty. "You shut me out. I mean— your notebook. It was... You—"

"Think I'm fucked then, huh?"

Hollow words. The shell of a man speaking to you, with only a little boy inside. And you flutter your eyes because the backs of your lids remember the gore you'd seen. But your stomach has already swallowed and digested the sight, whittled it down to empathy.

"No, I don't," you whisper with a firm shake of your head. "I just think you need help. You deserve it, Simon. And I—" Hushed like a secret that rattles with defeat: "I don't know if I can give you that help."

There's just not much else to say.

The look he gives, pitiful and strained, tugs at your reserve. You have to walk away— you turn around to grab your bag. He sees it now. A sharp inhale sounds from his chest as you begin your journey to the front door with your belongings.

He follows. Sets the food on the table.

You don't really know what you want or what you need, but at this moment all you can think of is space.

"Don't," a quiet, rough plea.

A ghost hovers behind you as your hand wraps around the doorknob. A phantom cloaked in guilt and perhaps, the realization that what he'd expected you to do for so long, was finally coming to fruition.

"It's just space," you tell him in a murmur. "Simon, I just need space."

"Space from me?"

"From this."

"M' sorry," he breathes. "Please... I— it won't happen again. Fuck, I swear it. I'm so..."

And he struggles with the words because, fucking hell, you were right. Words of care, words of apology, always seem to evade him. But military jargon and sharp commands come with ease.

"I'm so sorry," Simon finally says, choppy. "I didn't want you seein' all that. But... bloody hell, I overreacted, didn't I?"

Salt lines your vision as he continues, urgently now, because your hand refuses to let up off the knob.

"Jesus Christ. I didn't mean to. You can't just— Pet, please. I'm sorry, alright? So fuckin' sorry, I mean it."

But his apologies don't do much to soothe the defeat in your chest. You can't look at him so you open the door instead.

A touch to your shoulder, perhaps firmer than he intends—

And you pause only because you think finally he might say what you were hoping he would. Something about care. Maybe even, a tinge of hope for— love.

(But no— he'd given you a clear warning from the beginning that he couldn't give that.)

So instead, he just shakes his head and drops his hand back to his side. The words die on his tongue, turned the same color of ash as his lashes, and he lets you leave.

[yumeka-sxf]

Today's new chapter was like the sequel to chapter 39 from way back when - "Damian and friends' day out, part 2" 😅 But rather than be accompanied by a teacher, they're accompanied by their butlers! Which means we finally get to see Jeeves in person after only ever hearing him on the phone. Endo even drew Jeeves for the chapter's special illustration.

As for the chapter itself, like I said, it was very similar to chapter 39, so not a ton of plot-relevant stuff to mention. However, we do get to see a bit of Damian's relationship with Jeeves and more about his feelings towards his family.

As we've seen before, despite feeling like his family is avoiding him (as he says in the above panel, "it's not like I'm the one who's avoiding them") Damian still feels a sense of pride about his family's name. He doesn't want to sully the Desmond name even though no one in the family gives him the recognition he yearns for. Which is another reason why he obsesses over getting stella.

As for Jeeves, he seems to have a similar relationship to Damian as Becky does with Martha, even down to being able to spring into action to save his master at any moment! Did Jeeves and Martha train at the same combat butler school? 😂

Jeeves also gives Damian the "I sympathize with you but I can't say anything look" that Loid often gives to people. Makes it seem like he understands Damian's internal struggle, probably more than anyone else in the Desmond family, but he can't openly express it.

I also want to mention that there was a mistake in the English translation where Ewen says that it's currently autumn, but in the original Japanese, he says "winter."

Nice to finally know what season we're currently in, but sucks that this was mistranslated. I'm hoping it gets fixed in the volume release.

I don't believe the giant flower that the boys find is a real species, but looks like it's based on the corpse flower.

I was hoping we'd get some kind of reference to Anya's big reveal to Damian at the dance, but apparently he really didn't take her words seriously, lol. But of course he's flustered at the thought of Melinda knowing about any contact he's had with her (plan C arc soon please 🤞)

[syzthefrizz]

Tips for writing dream sequences (from someone who has really vivid, weird dreams on a frequent basis)

My biggest pet peeve with fictional dream sequences is that they make too much sense!! They're too relevant! There's not enough random crazy stuff! That's not always unrealistic per se, but you are missing out on some of the fun ways you can reveal information about your character's mindset, fears, struggles, and future.

Most of my dreams have a goal or objective driving the plot, and it's usually urgent. Ex. "escape the huge storm on the horizon", "find a place to sleep for the night in an unfamiliar town", "find a bathroom". This is especially true of stress dreams.

Everything going on in the dream makes perfect sense to you during the dream. It doesn't feel like reality per se, but you think it is. You're living in a house full of vampires that could eat you at any moment? Seems legit.

Emotions and situations from the dreamer's life can/will find their way into dreams, with varying levels of subtlety. The dream could be about the stressful event itself, or it could be some sort of exaggerated metaphor. Ex. I was worried about whether I was a competent CS major while I was still trying to find a summer job/internship, and I was worried about what my professors must think of me. Such a good student on paper, still without summer plans. I dreamed that I ran into my professors all having lunch together at a restaurant (during a dream with a completely different storyline), and I was wearing my pajamas. They judged me.

Certain things are very hard to do in dreams. This could vary from person to person. For me, it's always driving (the brakes never work right), flying (I can't stay off the ground for very long), and running (it's like trying to run through waist-deep water).

People with PTSD may dream about the traumatic event happening differently than it actually happened. (Take this one with a grain of salt - I don't suffer from PTSD, I just research it sometimes so my blorbos can suffer accurately).

You can have a string of loosely connected or disconnected dream sequences back to back, each with an entirely different plot, setting, etc.

People can have reoccurring themes or plotlines in their dreams, which are often connected to their lives/psyche somehow. I frequently dream about running away from tornadoes and being in situations where there's some catastrophe coming but I'm the only one who understands that there's a problem and nobody will listen to me.

It's common for me to have a dream setting that I KNOW is someplace I'm familiar with, but it doesn't actually look like that place at all. Ex. "I dreamed that we were at my house, but it didn't look like my house..."

Dreams can end in cliffhangers. Sometimes I wake up right before I'm about to eat something delicious.

Sometimes people have dreams about doing things that they would never, ever do in real life, and they wake up feeling disgusted. This is Not a manifestation of their secret desires (*glares at Freud*).

Images are the most memorable parts of dreams. I forget the specific plot points, but I can still picture dozens of liminal spaces my brain has created, even years after I dreamed about it.

Dreams will fade from memory very quickly unless the dream had a strong impression on you, you write details about it down or you tell someone about it before you forget.

If you realize you're dreaming during your dream, sometimes you can control the dream going forward. This is called lucid dreaming. I've done it accidentally a couple times, and it's really hard to "hold on" to the dream and control it. I usually wake up soon after starting. With practice, you can get better at it.

Sometimes a normal/good dream can turn into a nightmare, and vice versa. Most of my dreams aren't really good or bad, they're something in between.

Your subconscious brain is CRAZY intuitive. We can argue over the existence of prophetic dreams (I've heard so many crazy stories), but at the end of the day, your subconscious brain knows things that you don't consciously know. If your character is in love with someone, their subconscious brain will know even if the character doesn't. Relationship problems? Deepest darkest fears and insecurities? Your brain knows. A dream predicted the downfall of my first relationship eight months before it happened, down to the reason why we failed. You can absolutely foreshadow this way. A character might subconsciously know what the consequences of their or other people's actions will be, understand things about the situation they're in, know things about the people they're interacting with, and more, despite their conscious realizations.

There are plenty of ways to make a dream sequence relevant to your story, but don't forget to add in some fun, random details. Character A is secretly in love with Character B? Have Character A dream about Character B confessing feelings to them while in a Vine Nostalgia themed restaurant over a plate of mac-n-cheese. The details are the fun part, and you can get as weird as you want. I once ran into my aunt in a dream, and she was wearing a backpack with a bunch of (fake?) hands sticking out of it, making a fan that rose above her back behind her head like some sort of peacock feather costume piece. I was so freaked out that I woke up. I dare you to get weirder than that.

Not everyone's brain works the same way. I have vivid, random, detailed, memorable dreams on a frequent basis. When I describe them to people they often ask "what were you on?". My roommate only remembers her dreams when they're nightmares. I have some friends who say they don't dream. Other friends have really boring, mundane dreams about their normal lives. Some people have weird dreams but only once in a blue moon. It's a good idea to decide off the bat what kinds of dreams your character has, and how often they remember them.

That's it for now, but I might make a part two if I think of more things to add. Feel free to reblog with your own personal dream expertise!

[the-s1lly-corner]

What its like kissing the creepypasta characters

excluding the characters that im not comfy writing romantic for, for obvious reasons similar to the hugging post this is more so a rating thing instead of actual scenarios! honestly in love with these kinds of posts so im formally asking you guys to give me ideas in this vein because i love making hcs in this format/for general stuff eheheheh

SLENDERMAN:

if youve been on this blog for a while, you would know that i love when characters who dont have mouths/have nontraditional mouths nuzzle and press their face into yours. and i still love the idea, especially with slenderman ! the first time he 'kisses' you its probably the first time hes kissed ANYONE so the movement itself is probably a little... clunky... doesnt press too hard, actually i think he would struggle with the opposite. theyre gentle and fleeting, almost as if his inhuman strength and size would crush you if he let himself truly lean into it. i mean think about it, he hardly ever interacts with humans and when he does its for 'food', he has always only seen them as vulnerable and fragile. and whether malicious or not, he treats you as if youre made of glass. likes kissing the back of your hands too. 7/10, he gets bonus points since hes my fav + its the thought that counts

SPLENDORMAN:

very eager about showing you any level of affection, probably early in the relationship that he gets bold enough to kiss you. first kiss is probably more of a "in the moment" thing than "i planned this out and im going to ask" thing if that makes sense... similar to slenderman in regards that he presses his mouth to you, as i personally headcannon that his smile isnt exactly.. a real mouth, more so a false one. think like a layer of 'skin' covering his real one that he can rip out at any moment (same case for slenderman btw. same also apply to splendors eyes, more so markings than actual eyes). going back to his energy, hes very eager about it, might even lightly push you back with how much hes putting into it; he doesnt mean to, hes just so excited! likes cheek kisses and nuzzling your noses together 8/10

EYELESS JACK:

very wary about kissing you outside of those little pecks, for multiple factors. for one, his teeth. sharp teeth, he can accidentally cut you. other reason thats much darker, given that admin personally hcs that he goes into "frenzies" when hes hungry and reacts to blood like the sharks in finding nemo, if he accidentally cuts you when hes not.. well fed.. for lack of a better term... theres a risk there. REFUSES to kiss when he needs to go 'hunt' soon, not because he doesnt want you or your affection, but he doesnt want to take any risks. outside of that, he doesnt often seek out affection, so youre probably going to have to initiate it, unless hes feeling particularly clingy that day or jealous... hes very cold, please cup your hands on his face and warm him up. likes kissing your lips 6/10

LAUGHING JACK:

has to lean in at an angle in order to not poke you with his nose. has probably accidentally lightly scratched you with it when he got too excited. likes giving you forehead kisses for this reason because you can just angle your head down and he can go to town like that... sometimes leave lipstick marks on you.. if you personally hc that he can take off his makeup then please offer to fix it! hes going to be absolutely over the moon! likes wrapping his arms around you when he kisses you. does lots of kisses in quick succession rather than singular longer ones. probably wakes you up with kisses and greets you with kisses when you come home 8/10 i love him

MASKY/TIM:

nope, sorry. for masky hes not going to be taking off the mask around you at all. so if you want a kiss youre going to have to kiss the mask. though on rare occasions when youre alseep/half awake he will lift up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and give you a kiss on your face. no particular place that he prefers to kiss you. though as said, its rare when he does this. in fact its not common for masky to seek out affection unless he feels more possessive of you than usual, be it because hes jealous or you are stress or you were just in a dangerous situation. 5/10, not much action but there is still care behind it

now as for tim... i think he would be more willing to give you kisses. probably gives you a quick one before you leave for work or something else, and greets you with one when you return home. thats a sweet thought, i think. more likely to give kisses during cuddle session, tends to kiss your cheek and neck (non sexually) while hes holding you to his chest. ponders. will give you a look if you mess with his sideburns and start giggling 6.5/10 love this man

HOODIE/BRIAN:

hoodie is a little more willing to lift up his mask around you, but only really up to the bottom of his nose. also has no preferred place to kiss you, but he seems to kiss your lips more than the other parts of you. sometimes his facial hair scratches against your skin and tickles. between him and brian i think hoodie is a little more blunt and serious about kissing. not to say hes not a little playful, love me some vaguely playful s/o hoodie hcs. probably picks you up off the ground too to 'trap' you, especially if youre fairly shorter than him (personally hc brian/hoodie is 6'') 7/10 love him

very similar to hoodie but i think he would be even more playful when it comes to you. leans into it when his facial hair starts tickling you, in fact i think it would devolve into him just tickling your sides. funny man. put him in the corner/j. like lj, he likes wrapping his arms around you when kissing you, this man is very into physical touch. will touch you any chance he gets; hand holding, cuddling, hugs, ect ect ect... sometimes starts smiling when you guys kiss so you have to give him a minute because he just has this huge grin on his face 8/10

PUPPETEER:

so you know how i said in the hugging post hes kind of a little shit? you know, literally basking in the fact that youre giving your time and self to him? i think that still applies here, maybe even more so since this is explicitly romantic. likes teasing you if you get flustered during your make out sessions, sometimes bombards you with kisses just to see your face redden... has probably leaned down and tapped his cheek as a silent yet teasing gesture, as if taunting you, letting you be the one to kiss him this once. also very cold, like physically. what being a spirit does to a mf. VERY tall, can easily evade any retaliation you throw his way (ie returning the favor of bombarding him with kisses), though im not sure how long he'd be able to resist.. 6/10

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FIVE: GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Spider-Man and homecoming, when did that ever end well? He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?” You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said. “Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: fear gas (people get affected but it's not described), spiking drinks (not with the intention of taking advantage of anyone) wc: 5.9k

Your mind is elsewhere as you perform your warm-up stretches in the dance studio. Progress with the particle accelerator had been slow. Tony Stark had access to all the materials he needed when he built it, but you don’t. Not to mention all of the welding, cutting and assembling you’ll have to do. You're occupied in your thoughts, but you still hear footsteps approaching.

Victoria. She has her hands on her hips and is looking at you like you’re the nasty chore she’s stuck with.

You raise a brow. “Yes, Vicky?”

Despite all of her faces of disgust when you call her that, she hasn’t demanded you stop calling her that.

“I don’t know why I expected you to be paying attention, clearly you are too airheaded otherwise,” she huffs.

“You’re right, dearest, I wasn’t paying attention. Please, enlighten me.”

“Our instructor has just announced a winter performance. For a grade, of course.”

You sigh. “Of course.”

“We,” she drags the word out, disgruntled, “are the leads.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh. This’ll be fun.”

“I will not let you embarrass me, so I will make sure you are a suitable lead,” she huffs.

“And how do you plan to do that, my dear?” you sing, circling her. Your fingers tap her arms as you walk.

She clears her throat. “I will make sure you are paying well attention and are performing adequately.”

“Sounds good to me, princess,” you say, walking away and extending a hand to her. “Shall we?”

She sighs dramatically and puts her hand in yours. It’ll be a long couple of months.

Your extended leg rocks your web hammock back and forth as you think. A song is hummed under your breath, pondering your next move.

“How far is Metropolis from Gotham?”

“Depending on your method of travel, it could range from an hour to 4 hours.”

You have no doubt LexCorp is very well protected in terms of its security measures, but Lex Luther seems a bit of an arrogant man. If he were to find out you had managed to break in and swipe some material, he might not do anything in embarrassment of being had. On the other hand, he is also pretty paranoid, so you have no idea what type of crazy defenses he has.

WayneTech is a very hesitant maybe, for pretty much the same reasons. Batman will already be on alert from your little hacking show earlier.

“Perhaps we shall simply wait for the opportunity to present itself to us, [Name].”

“We’re trying to leave as soon as we can, K,” you whine, bouncing a web ball back and forth between the wall and you.

“You can’t rush perfection.”

“Oh, you flatter me, K.” You lean over and fall out of the hammock, landing gracefully. “But I can never argue with you, lovely. I guess I’ll just have to make due with stuff from the school.” Hopefully they don’t notice the decline of materials.

Patrol goes smoothly that night. You've gone back to listening to your certified patrol playlist now that you’ve gotten back in the groove of things. You hum to a beat as you walk alongside the roof, grooving slightly. You run through equations and formulas in your head as you think about your next headway with your project. You still notice the footsteps approaching, though.

“Which one are you?” you announce, shifting slightly. You don’t get an answer, so you turn around. The figure standing behind you is shrouded in darkness, but a glint of moonlight reveals a familiar silhouette.

“Nightwing!” you hum pleasantly. “Pleasure, quite a pleasure. To what do I owe the visit?”

Nightwing shrugs. “Standard stuff, really. Making sure Gothams latest pest problem isn’t up to no good.”

You chuckle. “That was pretty good.” You sit down on the ledge. “I assure you, blue, that I have Gotham’s best interest in mind.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that Gotham likes you, for the most part.” Nightwing sits next to you. “Of course, the webs you leave irk them just a bit.”

“They dissolve,” you defend.

“They do,” he agrees, and lets the conversation die. Distant sounds of sirens fill the silence. You can see the blue and red lights from here. You and Nightwing share a moment of calm amidst the chaos.

“Every time I think Gotham can’t get any weirder, I hear news of a ‘giant spider’ terrorizing the criminal underworld.”

You snort, “yeah, that was my bad. I totally had rumors spread about that.” You can see his eyebrow raise underneath his domino. “It was funny!”

“I guess Gotham attracts all kinds of people,” he hums.

“And yet… it’s home,” you whisper.

Another brief silence settled between you, tinged with unspoken tension that always sneaks up on you in Gotham.

“So, did the big Bat put you up to this?” you ask, breaking the quietude.

Nightwing shrugs casually. “Nah, this is all me. Don’t worry though, I’m sure B will corner you eventually.”

“Charming,” you huff dryly against his chuckle.

“And of course, crime never sleeps in Gotham.”

“And so, neither do we,” you smile.

He turns to you. “Surely someone as young as you should be getting more sleep?”

You hum. “So Robin told you about little ole me, huh?” He shrugs sheepishly, in a can you blame him? kind of way. “Like I told him, I’ve been doing this for years.”

“So what’s a young person like you doing spending your nights fighting crime?”

You scoff, “oh, don’t give me that. The first Robin was barely out of diapers when Batman paraded him around.” You ignore Nightwings dramatic gasp of offense. “I’m doing the same as you, trying to make a difference.”

“But no one would blame you for just trying to live a normal life in spite of your abilities.” You’re not sure what exactly Nightwing is trying to achieve here other than getting you to spill something about yourself. What’s it to him what you do in your free time?

‘Yeah well, someone once told me something. Kind of changed my life a little.” You take a deep breath and recite the famous spidey quote, “With great power comes great responsibility.” You turn to face Nightwing. “I can’t in good faith live a normal life when there are people that need me. I have the power to help people, why wouldn’t I do just that?”

You hope your speech passes whatever test he had for you, and the way he stares at you before nodding suggests that you did.

“Just…” he hesitates. “... be careful out there. Gotham’s a tough place, even for someone with your talents.”

You’re not sure why he cares so much, but Dick Grayson does have a sort of a bleeding heart. You watch Nightwing stand, nodding at you before grappling away. It was nice to not have a more violent encounter with one of the Bats (looking at you, Damian). You’re left with the quiet of your own mind.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of dance rehearsals and lab work. Victoria, true to her word, pushes you hard. She ensures every step, every movement is perfect. You can’t help but admire her dedication.

“Remember,” she snaps one day during a particularly grueling practice, “lean into the spin. It will further your momentum, making your performance overall smoother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you smirk. Your classmates take notice of the way the two of you dance around each other. You’re sure you both appear really intense to them.

One new development you’ve reluctantly acknowledged is homecoming . You don’t care much for it, you’d rather spend it working on the badassium or patrolling. However, it’s a good way to sneak in and take some more material, so you’ll probably show up for a bit then sneak away. You just have to get through all of the sickeningly sweet hoco proposals.

In other news, you’ve finished your painting that you were assigned for art. You stole one of Miles’ designs from his spray-paint pieces, you hope he won’t mind. It’s a figure outlined many times in all kinds of vivid and bright colors.

“What is it?” Pipes up Damian from your side. Lately you haven’t really interacted much, you’re far too busy trying to make this universe's history books.

“My project,” you reply vaguely. At his unimpressed stare you elaborate, “it’s supposed to be a bunch of different versions of one person. Different people living the same life, one person living different lives, yadda yadda.”

Damian hums, satisfied. You take a breath, spinning in your chair to face him. “So, Damian,” you start, smiling at the way Damian’s face automatically scrunches in irritation. “Anyone special in mind for hoco?”

Damian tsk’s at the thought. “I will not waste my time indulging in such a frivolous activity.”

“Yeah, spiked punch and sweaty teens grinding on each other probably isn’t your vibe,” you agree.

“Then what better things do you plan on doing?” You rest your legs on his side of the table, invading his space. He ignores it, to his credit. He’s gotten used to your antics.

“Doing something far away from you.” You bark out a laugh at his response. You retract your legs and massage your feet. For all your super strength and resilience, ballet is still killer.

Damian eyes your movements. “How are your dance classes progressing?” Damian’s gotten better at conversing, you’re just surprised he chooses to do so with you. But then again, you’re sure he still thinks you’re the number one suspect as to who Spinnerette is.

“Victoria is a delight, as always,” you roll your eyes. “She’s more of a teacher to me than the actual instructor. She’s thorough though, knows her stuff.” You pause. “Think she’ll say yes if I ask her to hoco?”

His eyes narrow. “You jest.”

You close your eyes and nod. “I jest. I stand no chance because she’s waiting for you to ask her,” you grin, eyeing his eye roll. You furrow your brow in thought. “They accept people from other schools, right? Maybe I’ll ask Jon…”

He straightens in his seat. “Jon?”

“Oh yeah, you guys are friends, forgot.” You didn’t forget. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out lately.” It’s true, Jon frequents at least once a week for movie night. You’ve also exchanged numbers, affectionately naming him ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’ in your phone. “You think he’d say yes?”

“Do not even think about asking him,” growls Damian. Woah.

You hold up your hands in defense. “My bad dude, didn’t know it was like that.” Jeez, it’s not like you're going to corrupt Jon or anything. Then, you slump in your seat. “Maybe I’ll just skip it, then. Going alone is only cool if you’re cool.”

“If it means so little to you, why bother?”

“Opportunities, D. It’s all about opportunities. Plus, who knows? I could be missing out on the chance for something big. Like my rich future spouse.” Damian scoffs, and the bell rings. You grab your stuff and set off to practice, Damian falling into step beside you. You groan.

“Come on, man. Vicky’ll put me through hell when she see you with me.”

‘Maybe that’s my plan,” he smirks.

“One moment of peace with you. That's all I want.” Predictably, Victoria’s eyes narrow when Damian drops you off at the studio. However, she doesn’t waste time fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Hurry, get dressed,” she demands, turning away from you two. You share a look of surprise with Damian as you step inside. Perhaps this show is more important to her than you thought. You get changed in record time, hurrying back out lest you encourage Victoria’s wrath further.

The hour passes in a blur of graceful movements. Your hands grasp Victoria’s waist as you lift and spin her. She spreads her arms and legs with all the elegance of a true dancer. You wonder if she wasn’t set to inherit whatever her parent’s set aside for her, would she have pursued a career in dance?

“You’re getting the hang of it,” she admits, a hint of begrudging approval in her voice.

“Only because of you,” you flirt, smiling with your teeth. She rolls her eyes but says nothing.

A knock sounds on the door. The instructor gets a giddy grin on her face and practically hops over to open in. You and the rest of the students stop practicing in curiosity. Behind the door is your typical jock type, with a bouquet and a poster in his hands that says ‘Will you PLIÉse go to Hoco with me?’ It’s clever, you’ll give him that.

“Victoria Hearst, will you do me the honor of going to homecoming with me?” Your classmates clap and cheer in awe of it. Victoria gasps, walking up to the jock, but pausing. To your huge surprise, she turns to you. Her eyebrows are furrowed, like she’s confused.

You’re not sure why she’s looking at you. Maybe she’s waiting for your approval? You can’t think of why she would want it. Personally you wouldn’t be caught dead with his type, but maybe he’s sweet on the inside or something. You give a smile and gesture her forward.

She purses her lips, before smiling charmingly at the boy, nodding. The class erupts in cheers once again as the pair hug. The instructor, for all her giddiness earlier, quickly snaps at everyone to go back to their places. Practice continues well into the evening. You get a small wave from Victoria when you depart home, a pleasant surprise.

You end up outfit shopping with Jon the day before homecoming. The boutique you’re in isn’t too fancy, even though you can afford more with Bruce Wayne’s ever so gracious stipend.

“Maybe I should wear blue, the same shade as your eyes. I like them,” you mutter, thinking. Nothing here particularly catches your eye. You suppose you shouldn’t care so much, it makes no difference to you. Besides, you won’t be spending much time at the dance anyway, you’ve got material to steal after all. But Tony has instilled the art of appearances into you, and you don’t want to disgrace his teachings.

Jon gulps beside you, still not used to your random flirting's despite the fact it’s been weeks. “I thought you had a thing for hot pink?” he asks as you pick up some simple heeled dress shoes.

“Yeah, but I’m not going for a bold look this time around.” You place your hands on your hips. “Maybe just plain old black is the way to go,” you say, grabbing a black suit off the rack and examining it. You hang it over your arm, deciding that it will be the way to go. It’ll be easier to hide in the crowd when you look like the rest of ‘em. “Now, for accessories…” you mutter, looking at the earrings on display. You pick up some faux emerald studs and examine them.

“I like this ring,” Jon pipes up. You turn around and see he’s holding a simple flowery ring with a blue gemstone in it. You hold out a hand and he slips the band onto your ring finger. It looks at home.

“Looks good,” you agree. You pack up the earrings, ring and the suit and take it to the register. You pay for it and Jon picks up the bag for you. What a gentleman.

The walk back to your apartment is filled with mindless chatter between the two of you. Nari greets you when you open the door, meowing real cutely. You press a bunch of kisses on his skull, because he deserves them. Jon places the bag on your couch.

“Well, since I’m not allowed to ask you the hoco, I’ll try it on just for you, yeah?”

Jon blinks. “Not allowed?”

“I mentioned it to Damian, and he made it very clear I was not allowed to take you.” You lean in and whisper in his ear, “between you and me, I think it’s because he wants to ask you.”

Jon snorts. “I doubt that,” he mumbles, watching you go to your bedroom to change. “I would have had to say no anyway, I’m… busy that day.”

“Well, I guess I was saved from an awkward moment,” you holler through the door. You make sure you look clean and put together before stepping out. You spread your arms and do a twirl.

“Well?” you ask.

Jon’s mouth is ever so slightly agape. His eyes seem to sparkle a little as he looks at you. Blue meets blue when he stares at the ring on your finger. You watch as he stands up, walking over to you.

He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?”

You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said.

“Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars.

You chuckle, abashed. He holds out his hand for you, waiting.

“Oh, wait!” you gasp. You dash over to your laptop, opening youtube. Jon watches as your fingers dash over the keyboard. ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ fills your apartment. The song has always reminded you of him. You race back to Jon, finally putting your hand in his. He quickly pulls you close to him.

“Queen?” he chuckles, placing his hands on your waist. You throw your hands over his shoulders, scoffing. “Nothing wrong with Queen.”

“No,” he agrees, swaying with you. You spend the rest of the evening together.

Walking into the academy’s gym, you’re immediately blasted with loud music and colorful lights. Everyone is looking quite dapper, but like you suspected, a bunch of black suits. You fit right in.

You sip a bit of the punch, grimacing. Nobody spiked it yet? You’re surprised. Yeah, this is a prestigious school or whatever, but teenagers will be teenagers. You guess they’re all too pussy to do it. No worries, you’ll do it for them.

“I don’t believe this is wise,” says Karen as you pour some alcohol into the bowl. “It’s only a little amount,” you reassure. “Drunk people are less likely to notice things.”

You observe the people of your school. They’ve long gotten used to your presence, hesitantly making room for you. Still, you aren’t really a part of them. You sigh. You know you sound like a broken record, but you really have to get back home. The last time someone stayed on an Earth not their own was Miguel, and well… you know how that ended.

In other news, you’ve spotted Victoria! She looks real pretty, all dolled up. Her hands grip a cup of punch as she stands next to whats-his-face. He’s chatting with his jock friends, completely ignoring her! Hell no, you’re not gonna let that slide.

You wait for his friends to go away before sneaking up on him. “You better dance with her, asshole.” It’s satisfying to see him jump and look around to see who said that, but you already walked away. He scratches his head, before walking over to Victoria. It’s satisfying to see her face light up as they walk to the dance floor. Your job here is done.

You find your way to the gym doors, peaking into the hallways. No one’s there, surprisingly. You scurry down the hall. You visit the lab first, swiping any and all things you think you might need. The blueprints left behind by Howard Stark are kind of obscure. They weren’t meant for anybody but Tony, after all.

Next you make headway to your engineering workshop. Seeing it now, it looks pretty spooky without the lights on. You walk into the storage closet where all the materials and parts are kept. It’s actually pretty big. You think you might be in Heaven. You set your backpack down and go through everything. You stuff various metals and scrap into it, tools and switches, fans and whatnot. Then, you spot it. A glass chamber, hidden in the corner.

You grab it carefully, examining it. It’s the perfect size for your nanite chamber! You grin. You have no idea why there’s a big glass tube just in here, but hey, you’re not complaining. You carefully make room for it in your bag, hauling it over your shoulder. You poke your head out in the hallway, no one’s there. You sigh, content with your scavenge. Humming under your breath, you make your way out of the school.

behind you right behind you grabbing yOU–!

You turn around quickly, eyes wide. You just looked around, there was no one there! A hand lays outstretched in the air before you. Your eyes travel up the offender's arm and meet green. Damian. Of course.

“I thought you didn’t have time for such frivolous activities,” you blurt, for lack of something better to say. You grip your bag strap tight.

“Who else would keep an eye on you?” he grunts. You coo, “do I attract your eye, then?” Performing a spin, you miss the way he looks you up and down.

He reaches out and flicks your emerald earring. “Tell me why I shouldn’t report you for theft,” he says as he gestures to your bag.

“Because I’m… awesome?” you try. It doesn’t work, clearly. Damian���s looking at you like you’re the very epitome of ‘human disaster’. “It’s for my personal project, lay off.”

Damian steps closer to you, and you finally have the time to really take him in. He’s got a simple dress shirt covered by a black vest. Dress pants, dress shoes, all looking very expensive. An elegant satin green tie pulls it all together. You hum appreciatively as you look him up and down.

“And what exactly does this ‘project’ entail?” he murmurs, grasping your hand and examining the ring. Flirting with you to get you to spill? Smooth.

“You like it?” you ask, referring to the ring. “Jon chose it.”

Damian furrows his brow immediately, looking at you. You grin. “He said he liked it on me, specifically.”

Damian huffs, dropping your hand. “I’m not building a world-ending weapon or anything. I’m allowed my hobbies,” you say, laying a hand on his chest as a way to calm him. “Honest.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment, opening his mouth to speak–

BOOM .

The ground rumbles, Damian grabbing you and you grabbing him. You stay locked together as you stand still, listening. Screams erupt, coming from the gym. Damian pushes you towards safety in a nearby janitor’s closet.

“Stay here, lock the door,” is all he says before running off towards the gym, no doubt planning to save the day as Robin. Way to be subtle.

Karen already knows what to do, letting the suit emerge from your bracelets under your sleeves. You sprint towards the gym, opening the doors silently. People are hiding behind and under tables, whimpering. There’s a gaping hole at the end of the gym, no doubt the loud explosion you heard earlier.

The one and only Scarecrow stands in the settling dust. He sure lives up to his name, that costume is frighteningly ugly. He raises his arms, canisters in hand, and throws them into the crowd. They explode with a hiss, releasing plumes of noxious gas. Hell. No.

You spring into action, webbing the canisters to try and block the spread of the fear gas quickly. A few gasps are heard from the students. You turn to them. “The fuck are you waiting around, for? Run!” They heed your call, quickly finding their way to the doors on the other side of the gym. Scarecrow tries to throw a canister at the running crowd, so you quickly web it, sticking it to the wall.

“You cannot save them,” he taunts, gesturing to the few students that still got hit with the fear gas. “Their fears will consume them, just as yours will consume you.” Ah, right. You are standing right in the middle of where his first cans exploded. Time to find out if your suit blocks the fumes.

A batarang appears, knocking Scarecrow's canisters out of his hands. Robin, the man himself, lands next to you. You can’t help but quip, “I thought such a prestigious school wouldn’t be so easy to break into?”

“It isn’t,” is Robin’s dry reply.

“Well, looks like someone missed the memo,” you retort, eyes locked on Scarecrow. You survey your surroundings, there’s still some lingering kids, plus the one’s victimized by the fear gas. “Handle him, I’ll get them out of here,” you command. Robin nods in understanding.

You jump away, quickly webbing up the fear gassed victims so they don’t hurt anyone or themselves. They scream and trash, making you wince and mutter rushed apologies. You kick up a table, depositing them behind it. Robin is holding his own against Scarecrow efficiently.

A couple of rushed whispers escape you as you encourage the leftover students to follow you out. You guide them, ducking under tables until you reach the doors. You breathe, the only one left is–

Victoria. Where’s her date? Did he leave her to save himself? Asshole, you swear. You call for her. “Hey!”

She turns to you, looking worse for wear. Her makeup is running down her face, carefully tied hair now loose in disarray. Poor girl. She runs over to you, tripping into your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper as you usher her to the exit.

“Spinner!” Robin yells. You turn around in time to deflect a throwaway can of fear gas. Victoria whimpers in your arms. “It’s alright, Vicky,” you say breathlessly. The last you see of her is her wide eyes as you shut the door.

Scarecrow growls in frustration. “You!” he points at you. “Why are you not affected!?”

A clawed finger clinks against your mask as you tap it. “My suit’s really cool like that.” Thank God , you weren’t sure if it would repel the gas. With a flick of your wrist, you send a web at Scarecrow to restrain him. He dodges, just barely.

“Or maybe I’m just already living my worst nightmare: a villain with a bad fashion sense,” you quip, weaving around. “Now let’s wrap this up before I start critiquing your escape plan.” You launch a web up at the ceiling, letting it carry you up. More webs grasp at Scarecrow, tugging him to you. Robin watches as you tie him up, Scarecrow flailing uselessly in the air.

You ignore his speeches about how ‘fear is eternal’ and ‘you’re delusional if you think you can stop it’ in favor of dropping him to the floor, roughly. You land next to him, leaning down and dragging him with you to the hole in the wall. “I’ll leave you here as my thanks to the GCPD.”

Robin comes to a stop next to you. “Call me corny, but you and I make a pretty good team, no?” you say, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Do not flatter yourself, I did most of the fighting.”

You snort. “Yeah, but I got him in the end, didn’t I?” Robin shakes his head. “I’m just surprised you’re not shriveled up in fear like the rest of them.”

Robin crosses his arms. “I am capable of holding my breath.” Your mind wanders to inappropriate trains of thought, making you grin. The sound of sirens get closer, signaling the approach of the GCPD, and probably the other Bats as well.

“Well, I get terrible police anxiety, you know how it is,” you say, taking steps out of the hole. Robin follows you out. “Bye,” you say, before swinging away. You round the building, letting the suit retract back into your bracelets. You enter through a back door, avoiding cameras. You quickly straighten out your ruffled appearance, making your way to the gym. Some students are lingering around on their phones, either showing each other what they recorded or calling somebody to pick them up.

You pass Victoria on the way. She’s holding her arms, hugging herself. She raises her head and stares at you as you approach. You pause in front of her, not really sure what to say. She probably doesn’t want your comfort, so you’ll keep it brief. “Glad you’re okay,” you say as you awkwardly pat her shoulder. You quickly scurry inside the gym, feeling what you’re sure is a judging stare.

Just as you thought, some of the Bats are here, administering the antidote to the victims. You make a show of looking for Damian, just in case he’s watching. There’s an incessant buzzing in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you swipe open Jon’s messages.

please get this boy some brown contacts

why did i just turn on the news and ga was attacked

hello?????

are you okay??????

please be okay

why arent you answering are you dead

please dont be dead

Your heart churns at his worry. You just want to gnaw on him, he’s so cute. You send a selfie of you throwing up a peace sign with the police and Batman in the back.

yeah lmao im ok

shit was crazy but damian shoved me a closet all romantically and then ran off

looking for him rn hope he aint dead

he told me he wasnt even gna come what a liar

oh my gosh youre alive no way 

are you sure youre okay im pretty sure you just experienced something really traumatic

YES jon like i said i was in a closet the whole time

well im glad damian shoved you in there

also yeah he is a stinkin liar sometimes

You chuckle and let the conversation die. You make sure to answer Sam’s concerned messages with the same selfie and reassurance.

“I see you are alive and well,” comes Damian’s voice behind you. He’s got his hands in his pocket casually, looking completely put together and not like he just fought crime. He’s good.

You huff and turn around to face him. “Yeah well, it’s hard to die when you’re chilling in a closet that somebody shoved you into,” you snark accusingly.

He scoffs, ”I practically saved your life.”

“And then ran off. Where did you go, anyway?”

Damian turns his head, surveying the law enforcement as they work. “I helped in aiding the other students escape.” Yeah, whatever.

“Oh, really? We got ourselves a hero type over here.” You cross your arms and bump him gently. His head lolls with the movement. “Maybe you really are Robin.” He ‘tsk’s, but says nothing. You let the silence consume the both of you, eyes wandering the scene. Concerned parents cry in outrage at their fear gassed children. You wonder if they’ll sue. Then, you notice something.

“Why is Batman looking at me like I just cursed his entire bloodline?” you ask Damian, making him drop his arms and look to where your eyes are. You’re exaggerating, it’s hard to tell exactly how Batman’s looking at you with the cowl and the distance, but he isn’t exactly being subtle.

“That’s just how he usually looks,” says Damian, trying to remain casual. You are pretty damn sure he’s trying to signal to B that he needs to chill. Karen confirms that he actually is in your ear. Your mouth twitches as you wrangle a grin under control.

“Well, tonight was lame. I’m gonna go home before the big bad bat decides I need to be ‘vengeanced’ or something.” You turn around and begin walking away. “See you around, Dami.”

Damian grabs your arm before you can get far. “Let me walk you.”

You raise a brow. “Trying to figure out my base of operations?”

“It is late and you shouldn’t be going home alone. Especially after tonight,” he gestures to the scene.

You shrug. There’s really nothing to hide at your apartment, and he definitely already knows where you live regardless. “My hero. Okay, if you insist. But you’re paying for the ticket.”

“What ticket?” he scoffs. “My butler will be driving.” Oh. Right.

You scoff. “Of course you have a butler.”

He places a hand on your back to guide you out. You risk a subtle glance behind you and see that Batman is still looking, but more so at Damian now. You make a stop to the closet Damian shoves you into to pick up your haul, ignoring his side-eye. It seems he has let it go, for now.

Cold air greets you as you step outside with Damian. Arguably one of the coolest characters in the DC verse stands beside a sleek looking car, Alfred Pennyworth. You’re a big fan.

“Master Damian, Mx [Name].” He greets primly, stepping aside to open the door for you both. Damian nudges you in, and you make sure to thank Alfred and give him your address as you slip inside. Damian settles in beside you, his arm pressing into yours. You look out of the window as the drive commences. There’s not much to say.

“Tonight could’ve gone worse,” Damian says, breaking the silence. “I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

“Grateful, sure,” you reply, not taking your eyes off the city lights flashing by. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t happened at all.”

He nods, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “True. But then, I wouldn’t have had the chance to save you.”

You roll your eyes. “Is that what you’re going to hang over my head forever? ‘Remember that time I saved you in the school closet?’”

Damian chuckles, a rare sound that makes you glance at him. “Perhaps. But I think you’d do the same.”

“You know me so well,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You lean back in the comfortable leather seat of the car, feeling the tension of the night slowly ebbing away. The drive through Gotham's streets is surprisingly smooth, with only the occasional sound of sirens in the distance to remind you of the chaos that unfolded earlier.

As you pass under the shadow of skyscrapers, you steal a glance at Damian. His profile is illuminated by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the car window. Despite the adrenaline of the evening, he seems composed, almost serene.

He catches your glance and turns to meet your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of lingering intensity from the night's events and a quiet contemplation that seems to soften his usually sharp features. The silence between you feels comfortable now, no longer laden with the tension of earlier encounters or the urgency of the situation you just escaped. You offer a smile, and this time he doesn’t have any reaction. Just a calm expression.

“We have arrived,” Alfred announces softly as the car comes to a stop, almost hesitant to break the silence. You step out of the car, giving Alfred a nod of gratitude before heading up to your apartment. You turn back one last time, meeting Damian’s gaze before unlocking your door and heading inside. As you settle in, you can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something else you can't quite place.

You drop your bag next to your bed and collapse in it. Nari comes trotting over, hopping onto your mattress and curling up next to you. Tonight was anything but lame. And as reluctant as you are to admit it, Damian’s presence made it a bit better.

You close your eyes, letting sleep take your mind.

notes: i know in a lot of peter parker in gotham fics they have that "dick grayson is richard parker in a different reality" storyline so i think im gonna try to reference that just a tad, since reader is peter parker just not yk.

in other news, im gonna TRY to update every weekend or so. keyword try.

[hillbilly---man]

A list of the specific chronic illness/disability-related things in Saiki K that resonate with me personally

(Your mileage may vary, my experiences are not universal, I recognize that some of this is kind of a reach etc etc)

The limiters

Saiki’s powers have grown too strong for him to control, and before the creation of his limiters they were out of control and causing a lot of damage. Some examples cited include accidentally destroying his house in his sleep and having telepathy that reached all over Japan (something I imagine was many many times more distressing [disabling] than his current situation) The limiters weaken his psychic powers and keep them somewhat in check. It’s not perfect, and he still does have problems, but the situation is much worse without them.

This reminds me of the medication I take to keep my immune system under control. Before I started it, my immune system (thanks to MS) was causing lots of issues for me: it took the vision in my left eye, made it difficult to walk and use my arm for a few months, caused horrible leg spasms, et cetera. My medicine helps keep things in check and hopefully prevents future damage... But nothing is perfect. Of course, it’s a monthly shot instead of silly pink balls on my head! So that's a plus 👍

The way he struggles to control his body after Nendo removed his limiter unexpectedly

After being hit with a shock to his system at the sports festival, Saiki struggles harder than usual to control his strength. We see him frustrated with this as he’s eating, his hand trembling as he holds his chopsticks. He tries to power through, but the issues don’t resolve.

I’m fortunate to usually be pretty functional most days (I do have my bad days though lol). However, when I go through significant stress - either mental or physical - it makes a lot of issues pop up that usually don’t bother me. Balance issues, vision stuff.. And hand tremors. Like, I was at a sushi restaurant after getting overheated at the pride festival last year struggling a lil with my chopsticks laughing at myself like “this is just like Saiki at the sports festival…”

Developing new powers unexpectedly

A major source of stress for Saiki is being unpleasantly surprised by a new psychic ability. In the series, we see this a few times. The most notable to me is the time leap ability. He wakes up having accidentally traveled 20 years in the past (soon after it is revealed that his limiter has a defective part). Afterward, we learn when he’s stuck in the time loops with Nendo and Kaido that this time leap ability has been coming back randomly since then “As unexpected and frequent as getting the hiccups”. He spends the entire chapter trying to get control over this ability so he can continue his day as planned. In another chapter, his limiter is malfunctioning and he develops a series of useless powers that he cannot control. Clearly, the limiters are preventing new powers from developing (see my first bullet point!!)

So, another thing about conditions such as mine is that you really can just wake up one day and have some weird symptom you’ve never heard of before! I remember not long after my first big attack I was at Walmart and I just noticed that my index finger was completely numb, and it stayed that way for weeks. One time, my upper lip twitched constantly for like a month straight. Of course, more than just the relatively silly symptoms can and do pop up like that, too. For example, I had these really scary, uncontrollable spasms on my left side (paroxysmal kinesigenic dyskinesia) that happened several times a day for about a week. For a LONG time afterward I would be terrified of them coming back. It's still in the back of my mind but I'm not losing sleep over it anymore at least. Reading those panels above re: the time leap stuff reminds me a lot of that time!

Neuroplasticity and the power remover device

When Kusuke is explaining how the power remover works, he talks about how the brain rewires itself around damaged areas to compensate. The device is designed to more completely destroy the areas of his brain responsible for the psychic abilities. Of course, the device ultimately did not work permanently. The damage it did to his brain was quickly compensated for, and the abilities returned.

When small areas of the brain are damaged (such as… due to a neurodegenerative autoimmune condition), over time the brain can often restructure to work around it. It doesn’t mean that those areas are healed, and the process is often incomplete, but that rewiring can (completely or partially) restore abilities and function that was lost in the damage. They don’t say that explicitly in the series, but that’s surely what is happening to Saiki in the final chapters! Except, you know, in a magical shonen manga way.

Resistance to the idea of needing help

After Saiki uses the power remover device, he loses his abilities and is suddenly much weaker and less capable than he was before. He was used to being extremely independent, but this change has brought him to a place where he cannot do everything on his own anymore. In the library, he struggles to get a book off the top shelf and in the process is reminded of his new limitations. He says to himself “What am I doing…!? Just get used to it already!” After the bookcase is tipped over onto him and Nendo protects him, Saiki is upset about having to be protected when he never needed it before: “I’m so useless now…” Nendo helps him realize that getting help from others is normal.

Helping each other out is one of the most fundamentally important parts of being human, but it can be hard to accept that support sometimes. This is especially the case when you’re thinking about the prospect of needing more help than you used to. I'm fortunate to be relatively unaffected most of the time so far, but I'm still grateful for when the people I love are understanding and don't make a big deal out of it. I hate the idea of being burdensome so I'm just gonna cross my fingers and hope things don't get worse lol

Conclusion: Saiki is just like me for real and I'm DEFINITELY not projecting my own problems into him at all...

we're ignoring the 20k word fic I wrote where I blatantly projected my problems onto him for seven chapters

thanks @justmagicalgirl for encouraging me last week to post this 👍

[theemissuniverse]

Can I request a smut prompt where Liu Kang almost loses you to Shang Tsung, but after he retrieves you back, he’s furious and upset with himself, but you knew just how to calm him down?

Also congrats on 200 followers!!! You definitely deserve it, your writing is amazing 🩷🩷🩷🩷

“MY LOVER, MY LIGHT” LIU KANG X FEM!READER

A/N : Thank you! Hope you like it!

WARNINGS : MINORS DONT INTERACT. praise kink, p in v, m receiving, f receiving, fingering, temperature play, some stuff I probably forgot

MASTERLIST

Shang Tsung almost took your soul. Lucky for you, Liu Kang, your husband, was there to put a stop to it. Even though it was already over, Liu Kang was beating himself up about it.

He should’ve stopped it sooner. He should have never put you in harms way to begin with. In his mind- this was all his fault.

Liu Kang was getting ready for bed. He had his boxers on and was completely shirtless. He was cleaning off his wedding ring as it was bloody from the damage he had done to Shang Tsung’s face.

You walked in the bedroom. You had your red set of underwear on with your red rope tied around you tightly. You watched as Liu Kang cleaned his ring. “Come on, baby. I made dinner. It’s your favorite.”

“I am not hungry, love.”

You tilted your head at him. You hated when he got like this. Guilt-ridden and self loathing. “You can’t starve yourself because you feel guilty. I’m fine.”

Liu Kang finished cleaning the ring. He placed it back on his finger. He did not dare to look at you. “You almost died.”

“Sorry to tell you, honey but that’s the price of being part of Earthrealm’s warriors. Stuff like that can happen.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be part of Earthrealm’s warriors anymore.”

Your eyes had widen. You were shocked. You were one of, if not, the best Earthrealm warrior. You walked further in the room. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Liu Kang finally turned to you. “(Y/N), I am immortal. You are not. I cannot have you forever. I do not want you to…to fall so soon.”

“I understand but there could be other factors. Like illness or even just everyday accidents. Am I suppose to live my life afraid?”

“Are you suppose to speed up the process of your  demise?”

The room fell silent. Liu Kang sighed at his harsh tone. He sat on the bed and rubbed his forehead to get rid of some tension. “I cannot lose you.”

You sat down next to him. You rubbed on his shoulder to comfort him. “I can’t lose you either. But if we think about all the ‘what if’s’ and the ‘what might’ then we’re gonna drive ourselves crazy. You told me yourself that we needed to focus on actions and not the outcome. It’s all that we can control.”

Liu Kang looked back at you lovingly. It was hard to tell if Liu Kang was crying because of his glowing orbs but you saw tears slipped past his cheeks. “Oh, Liu…” You kissed some of the tears away.

“I love you more than anything. More than myself. More than life itself.” He told you.

You always knew of the strong emotional hold you had on Liu Kang. Liu Kang had revealed to you that in the previous timeline, he was in love with you then and he ended up falling in love with you all over again.

That’s why he was so attached to you. He did not want to lose you again.

“I love you too, Liu.” You gave him a passionate kiss on the lips. Liu Kang immediately kissed you back, cupping your face.

The kiss meant something. The two of you had a hold on each other and you never wanted to leave.

You pulled away from him. You gave him small kisses on his neck. Liu Kang closed his eyes, loving the feeling of your lips on his body.

Liu Kang was already sitting on the edge of the bed. You got off the bed and sat on your knees on the ground. You then started to take his boxers off.

“Love-“ He started to say.

You shushed him, knowing what he was going to say. Although, Liu Kang always appreciated when you went down on him, he’d much rather just go down on you.

You kissed all over him. Liu Kang always got hard very quick when you touched him softly.

You wrapped your lips around him and started to suck on his dick lightly. Liu Kang moaned some. You continued to do this before taking all of him in your mouth and starting to go up and down on him.

Liu Kang, despite being a God, was always sensitive to touch. “(Y/N).” He moaned. When you sucked on his tip sweetly, he flung his body back on the bed in pure bliss.

More moans escaped his mouth. You knew that Liu Kang was more so the slow paced type so you always went slow with him. You rubbed on his thigh as you sucked on him.

The noises of slob each time you sucked him off turned him on even more. “You taste so good.” You said with all of him in your mouth.

Liu Kang felt himself twitch when you said that. He sat himself up on his elbows and watched you as you took care of him. “You look so beautiful.”

You moaned around him at the compliment and it made him twitch even more. It was true. You were amazing to look at.

Liu Kang bit his lip as he watched you undo your robe. The robe fell to the ground and he saw his wife in the red underwear set he had got for her.

You sucked his tip again and he rolled his eyes back in pleasure. “My love…”

You removed yourself from his dick and looked up at him. “You ready for me to ride you baby?” Liu Kang nodded eagerly and you stood up. You took your underwear off. Liu Kang scooted more to the center of the bed.

When you got on top of him, Liu Kang licked his fingers and stuck them in your pussy to see if you were wet enough from pleasing him. You weren’t.

He pumped them in and out of you slowly. You threw your head back in pleasure. Liu Kang watched you as you started to ride his fingers. He loved when you did that.

“Oh baby.” You moaned.

Liu Kang kissed your lips softly. His fingers found your clit and he rubbed it in circles, making you moan in his mouth.

Your hands tugged on his hair and he grunted in your mouth. “Please. I’m ready.”

Liu Kang made sure to feel all of you before deciding you were ready to ride him. He licked his fingers to get the juices off and leaned back.

You got into position. Liu Kang’s hands were on your hips. You slid down on him gently and you both let out a moan.

Your hands lay on his chest and you started to ride him slowly. “Oh yes. You feel so good.”

Liu Kang’s hands started to wander your body. His hands lit up with fire but he was careful not to burn you. He made sure rub all the parts you loved when he did temperature play with you.

“Oh my gods. Liu, you know that turns me on.”

Liu Kang just smiled at you. He helped you ride him up and down while his hands still produced light heat. You were starting to go at a much faster pace. Liu Kang panted slightly. “You know just how to ride me, love.”

You felt the heat die from Liu Kang’s hands which meant it was getting hard for him to concentrate. You continued moving at your fast pace while you undid your bra and threw it down on the ground.

Liu Kang watched your breasts bounce with each time you bounced. He groaned at the sight. “You look so beautiful.” He was close to his release but was holding it for you. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

At that, you leaned down to kiss his lips. “You deserve everything, baby.”

He moaned at your words and gripped on your hips tighter. He panted even more. The feeling of your pussy clenching on him was all too much for him. “You were made for me.

Something about Liu Kang always complimenting you turned you out. You felt love overwhelm your heart. “I love you.”

Liu Kang was always an emotional man during sex so having you tell him you loved him as you rode him turned him on. A lot.

He gently grabbed you before flipping you over so he was on top of you. Liu Kang kept the same fast but sensual pace. He gave you passionate kisses on your lips. “I love you more.”

Liu Kang’s right hand interlocked with yours as he fucked you. He gave you beautiful kisses on your neck and sucked on your sweet spots.

You should’ve been used to how loving Liu Kang was but you still weren’t. Tears welled up in your eyes as he made love to you. When Liu saw this he kissed the tears away.

You felt yourself start to become close. Your hand raked along his back. “I’m so close, Liu.”

Liu Kang kissed your lips once more before speaking. “Cum on me, love. I need you.”

With his words, you instantly came on Liu Kang. When he saw you came on him, he allowed himself to release inside of you.

When the two of you were done, he pulled out. Liu Kang saw the cum slipping out of you and he made it go back inside of you with his fingers. “I cannot lose you.” He repeated but this time with full love.

You pulled him down to your level and kissed him. “I can’t lose you, either.”

[sacrednova]

Through Statics | Simon "Ghost" Riley | Part 1.

Ghost!Simon, Fem!Reader. Read part 2 here. Summary: you moved into his house, but he wants to be alone, get the fuck off. (You won't) Warnings: Paranormal stuff, mentions of death, angst (not much).

This house is breathing.

Simon "Ghost" Riley had died. Yes, he did. At 36 years old, he was killed in his own home, surrounded by familiar walls that had witnessed countless memories and secrets. To the world, it seemed like a break-in gone wrong—"intruders" had silenced him in cold blood. But the truth was much darker. Ghost wasn’t just a soldier; he was a vault of dangerous knowledge. The higher-ups knew he had learned too much, and so they made sure he’d never share those secrets. He never stood a chance.

It was two years later when you moved into his old house, drawn to the strange vacancy that lingered around it. You needed a fresh start, something different, and this place, with its eerie quiet, called to you in a way you couldn’t explain. It was just an ordinary house, or so it seemed. But soon after settling in, little things began to feel off.

At first, it was just whispers on the wind, the kind that made you pause, thinking it might be your imagination. But the longer you stayed, the harder it was to ignore the creaks in the floorboards late at night, like someone pacing through the hallways. You found marks on the mirrors that you were sure weren’t there before, strange streaks as though a hand had touched them. Your breath would fog them up, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, the smudges stayed.

Some nights, as you lay in bed, you swore you heard footsteps just outside your door. Heavy ones. You’d grab the nearest object, heart pounding, rush to check, and find nothing. But the dread never left, clinging to the air like a warning.

You began to wonder—was this house haunted? Had someone died here? The real estate agent had been vague when you asked about the previous owner. A soldier, they said, nothing more. But now, standing in the dimly lit hallway, the sense of presence grew stronger.

A sudden thud echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Your heart raced as the reality dawned on you. Someone—or something—was still here.

But who?

And why hadn’t they left?

Static.

You had always known there was something different about you, a subtle ability you couldn’t quite name. Since you were a little girl, you saw things other people didn’t—shadows moving where they shouldn’t, whispers on the edge of your hearing. It wasn’t every day, but it happened often enough to feel like an unspoken truth you lived with. You never spoke about it to anyone, dismissing it as an overactive imagination. But here, in this house, everything was amplified. It was so much more.

The strange occurrences in the house kept escalating, each moment steeped in a feeling you couldn’t shake. The air seemed thicker, as if the walls themselves were holding secrets, waiting to be revealed. You'd wake up in the middle of the night, the silence almost too loud, filled with a heavy, suffocating energy.

The old radio on the kitchen counter had become particularly unsettling. It was an antique you’d brought from your previous home, something comforting about its nostalgic crackle and the feel of its worn buttons. But ever since you moved here, it had begun to act strangely, turning on by itself at odd hours, filling the room with a low hum of static.

At first, it was just white noise, faint and distant, but lately, the static seemed alive. There were nights when you would catch brief snippets, something resembling words hidden in the hiss. You would freeze, straining to hear, but the moment passed, leaving you wondering if you had imagined it.

Until one evening, it wasn’t your imagination anymore.

The house was still as you sat in the living room, flipping through a book but not really reading. The static from the radio hummed softly in the background. You’d grown used to it, a kind of eerie white noise that had almost become a companion. But this time, something changed. The static grew louder, sharper, as if the frequency was being tampered with. The low hum twisted into something darker, more intense.

And then, in the midst of the crackling, you heard it.

“G-get… out…”

The words were faint, broken, but unmistakable. Your blood ran cold. The radio, which had been nothing but an old, harmless relic, suddenly felt like a gateway to something far more sinister.

You walked to the kitchen and stared at it, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting to see if the voice would return.

But the radio only hissed softly, as if mocking your fear.

You leaned closer, hands trembling slightly, and switched it off. The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with an unspeakable tension. You weren’t alone in this house—something was here with you. And it wanted you out.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You had always known you were different, and now, more than ever, you were beginning to understand why. This house had awoken something inside you, something that had been dormant for years. You could feel it, a deep connection to whatever lingered here, as if the house itself was calling to you.

But why? And what would happen if you didn’t leave?

Name?

Curiosity killed the cat. But there you were, fingers gliding across your laptop keyboard, eyes glued to the screen as you dug deeper into the history of the house. You had to know who had lived here before you, who had left this lingering presence behind. The nights were becoming unbearable—the footsteps, the whispers, the strange static that always seemed to carry a warning. There was a name tied to this place, a name no one had been willing to share with you.

Until tonight.

Finally, after hours of sifting through obscure articles and forgotten news reports, you found it. Simon "Ghost" Riley. A decorated soldier, a man with a past shrouded in mystery and violence. The more you read, the darker the story became. His death had been officially ruled a home invasion, but there were whispers of conspiracy, something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface. They said he had died here, in this very house. And now, so much about the strange occurrences began to make sense.

You swallowed, the weight of the name hanging in the air. Almost unconsciously, you said it out loud for the first time, as if testing its power.

“Simon Riley.”

The moment the words left your lips, the house reacted violently.

The radio in the corner—off, you were certain—suddenly roared to life, filling the room with deafening static. It was louder than ever before, like a thousand angry voices hissing at you all at once. You jumped, your heart slamming against your chest as the static grew aggressive, the air buzzing with an overwhelming pressure.

And then, the night itself seemed to close in on you. The room felt darker, heavier, as though an unseen force was pushing down on you from all sides. The shadows stretched longer, crawling up the walls like living things. The atmosphere was suffocating, thick with something you couldn't name.

You stumbled back toward your bed, seeking the safety of its familiar comfort. But as you sat down, trying to steady your shaking hands, the mattress shifted beneath you. Not just a subtle movement—pulled, as though something beneath the bed was trying to drag it away from the wall. The fabric creaked, and you froze, gripping the edge of the bed as your mind raced.

This was too much.

“Stop!” you shouted, your voice cracking. But the room didn’t listen. The radio’s static pulsed, growing louder, angrier. The mattress pulled again, more forcefully this time, as though some invisible hand was determined to make you feel its presence.

You were no stranger to strange things, but this—this was unlike anything you’d ever felt. The air itself seemed to press against your skin, cold and oppressive, as if the very house was closing in on you, threatening to swallow you whole.

Desperate, you scrambled to turn off the radio, your fingers fumbling with the knob. But no matter how much you twisted it, the static only grew louder, the relentless sound clawing at your nerves.

“Get out…”

The words were buried deep in the static, but they were there. Clearer now. More urgent.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you backed away from the radio, your mind screaming for you to leave. But even as terror gripped you, something held you in place. A force stronger than fear. A need to know.

Simon Riley’s name hung in the air like a curse, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had awakened something when you said it. Something that had been waiting for you.

But whatever it was… it wasn’t finished with you yet.

His house.

Leaving wasn’t an option. Not after everything. This house—it was yours now. You had spent your savings, invested so much into making it your new beginning. You couldn’t just walk away because of a few unsettling events, even if they were enough to make your skin crawl. The fear gnawed at you, sure, but so did the defiance. The thought of running away felt too much like giving in to something unknown. And you hated the unknown.

So, you stayed.

And with every passing day, the strange occurrences continued. The static, the footsteps, the feeling of being watched—they persisted like a weight pressing down on you, but you weren’t going to let it win. You couldn’t keep ignoring it, though. Not anymore. The air in the house felt alive, heavy with something unsaid, and you had a hunch that if you wanted answers, you were going to have to start speaking to it.

Speaking to him.

At first, you felt ridiculous. You would walk through the house, muttering to the empty air like a madwoman. Little things, just to see if anything would respond. “Hello?” you’d ask as you brewed your morning coffee. “What do you want?” you’d say while folding laundry. And always, there was silence.

But the more you talked, the less foolish you felt. You sensed something listening, even if it didn’t answer right away. The static on the radio would flicker occasionally, faint noises that almost felt like a reply, though never enough to be sure.

The strange weight on your chest every night didn’t go away. The house was filled with tension, an unspoken presence, but you kept at it. Maybe it was the madness of it all, or maybe you were just too stubborn to give up. Either way, you couldn’t stop.

Then one night, everything changed.

You were lying in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. The radio, which you’d learned to avoid turning on, sat on the nightstand like a silent sentinel, you didn't know why you kept it close to you, but you did. The room was dark, the air thick with that familiar, uneasy heaviness. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to ignore the sounds, the pressure.

But then, a loud burst of static filled the room.

You shot up, heart racing. The radio had turned on by itself again, its glow casting eerie shadows across the walls. The static wasn’t just random noise this time—it was deliberate, alive with a force you couldn’t explain. And then, through the crackling, you heard a voice.

“Just… want… be alo-… ne.”

The words were fragmented, broken by the static, but they were unmistakable. Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the usual hiss or whisper. This was different. This was him.

“Simon?” you whispered, feeling a mix of terror and curiosity flood through you. The radio hissed again, the words struggling to break through.

“…Want… be… alone…”

You swallowed, your skin prickling with the weight of his presence. It was him—Ghost. Simon Riley. After all the silence, after all the waiting, he was finally speaking to you. No more "Get out". But what was he saying? Did he want you to leave? Was that what he meant?

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m not leaving. I won’t.” The fear was still there, gnawing at you, but your resolve was stronger. This house was yours now. And he was a part of it, whether either of you liked it or not.

The radio crackled again, but no more words came. The heavy, oppressive air in the room seemed to tighten around you, as though his presence was everywhere, watching, listening. You could feel it—his loneliness, his pain. It was buried deep in the walls, in the very bones of the house.

He didn’t want company. He didn’t want anyone here.

But you weren’t leaving.

You settled back against the pillows, your heartbeat slowly returning to normal, though your mind was far from calm. The radio fell silent once more, but now you knew the truth.

Simon Riley didn’t want to be disturbed. But somehow, you had become part of his world, and leaving wasn’t an option. Not for you. Not for him.

This house wasn’t just haunted. It was his.

And you weren’t sure what would happen next, but you had no intention of running away.

Our house.

"This can be our house," you said one day, speaking to the empty room as if he were just another person. Another living person. It felt strange at first, surreal even, but the more you talked to him, the more it seemed to work. The oppressive atmosphere in the house shifted, just slightly. As if Simon—Ghost—was beginning to listen.

There was no denying it now. He was here, still tethered to this place, his presence as real as the walls that enclosed you. And for some reason, your words were getting through to him.

It wasn’t immediate. At first, it felt like nothing had changed, but then, at night, when the house was at its stillest and the air the heaviest, he began to speak again. It wasn’t much—just a few words here and there, but enough. Enough for you to start knowing his voice.

His voice was deep, rough, as though every syllable was dragged through gravel before it reached you. He didn’t speak often, and when he did, it was clear that he wasn’t thrilled by your presence. His attitude was hard to miss—he wasn’t a friendly ghost, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t entirely hostile either.

Mostly, he just wanted you to stop poking around.

“Quiet…” he would mutter, his voice carrying through the static of the radio, sending shivers down your spine. “Too… loud…”

Or, “Less light… turn it off…”

It was clear: Ghost had rules. And you, it seemed, had broken most of them without realizing it. He liked the darkness, the quiet. The less you moved, the less you explored, the better. He didn’t want your questions or your curiosity. He wanted silence, shadows, and solitude.

But you were anything but quiet.

"Sorry, but I'm not that kind of girl," you whispered back with a faint smile, knowing full well he could hear you. You could almost feel him sigh in exasperation, a hint of tension rising in the air, but nothing violent. Nothing dangerous.

Still, it fascinated you, learning these little details about him. You were starting to get a sense of his personality, his boundaries. He wasn’t angry, not really—he was just… annoyed. Irritated, perhaps, by the fact that you were disrupting the world he had created here, the isolation he craved. He didn’t like the way you insisted on keeping the lights on, the way you asked so many questions, always wanting to know more.

But what struck you most was how human he still felt. Beneath the brooding presence and clipped words, there was a man with preferences, with a personality. He had been something more than just a soldier, more than just a ghost haunting his past.

And oh, what a man.

“Less nosy…” he growled one night, his voice crackling through the radio after you’d spent the day researching more about him. You laughed, half amused, half unnerved.

“Can’t help it,” you said aloud, settling into bed. “I’m curious about you.”

The radio hummed, but there was no reply this time. You had the feeling he wasn’t one for compliments, for conversation, or even acknowledgment. He just wanted things his way, wanted you to stop being so intrusive.

But you weren’t going to stop. Not yet, at least. His irritation felt almost like a game now, and though he pushed back, he never pushed hard enough to scare you off.

“Fine, I’ll dim the lights,” you finally conceded one night, turning the lamp beside your bed to its lowest setting. The room bathed in soft shadows, the way he seemed to prefer it. “But I’m not going anywhere, Ghost. This house is ours now.”

The air shifted, a low, almost imperceptible hum vibrating through the walls. He didn’t speak, but you could feel him there, watching, listening.

For the first time, you felt a strange comfort in his presence. He didn’t want you here. But maybe, just maybe, he was starting to accept that you weren’t going anywhere.

And neither was he.

Safe.

The first time you felt him, it was like nothing you had ever experienced. You had gotten used to the whispers, the static, the odd shifts in the air—but actual contact? That was something you never expected. Yet, it happened.

It was late, the house settled into its familiar, unsettling quiet. The soft hum of the radio filled the room, faint enough to become background noise, but ever-present, like a heartbeat. You were drifting, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, your mind hazy when you felt it—a touch.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. A cool pressure, right on top of your head, like the faintest brush of fingers or a soft breeze pushing down. It wasn’t warm like a human touch, not alive, but it was there. Cold and delicate, it felt more like air than flesh, but the sensation was unmistakable.

Your eyes snapped open, heart racing, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Frozen. You lay still, trying to make sense of what just happened. Every muscle in your body tensed, waiting for something more, some confirmation that you hadn’t dreamed it.

But there it was again. That gentle, almost imperceptible pressure, lingering just a little longer this time, pressing against your scalp. The coldness of it seeped into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. And despite the fear curling inside you, there was something… fascinating about it.

Simon could touch you.

It wasn’t warm, wasn’t comforting in the way a human hand would be, but it was real. He was real. That simple touch, fleeting as it was, felt like a revelation. A connection—one you hadn’t expected to feel. He wasn’t just a voice on the radio, or a shadow in the corner. He was more than that, more than just a presence haunting these walls.

But the realization also scared you, a sudden wave of cold dread filling the room. If he could touch you, even in that small way, what else could he do? The thought made your stomach knot with fear. You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

And then, in the quiet that followed, the static grew louder again. His voice, raspy and fragmented, pushed through the crackle of the radio.

“Forgot… lock the doors…”

His words, slow and deliberate, cut through the air like a warning. You felt a chill crawl down your arms, goosebumps rising on your skin. Instinctively, you glanced toward the door, your heart hammering in your chest. The lock. Had you forgotten? You couldn’t remember. Your thoughts blurred together in the fog of half-sleep.

Before you could move, his voice spoke again, softer this time, almost… amused.

“Careless…”

The word hung in the air, cold and sharp, like a scolding whisper.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You felt vulnerable, exposed, like the walls were watching you, like he was watching you. But it wasn’t anger or malice you sensed from him. No, it was something else—something almost… familiar. The same way someone might reprimand a child for leaving the lights on or forgetting to close the fridge. That cold touch on your head lingered like an afterthought, and the meaning behind his words began to settle in your mind.

Simon wasn’t threatening you. He was watching over you. In his own strange, spectral way, he was protecting you.

And that realization was more unnerving than anything else.

Your fingers trembled as you slid out of bed, your bare feet touching the cool floor. You padded toward the door, the sense of his presence heavy behind you. As you reached the handle, you hesitated for a second before turning it—locked. You had remembered after all.

Still, the point was clear. He was testing you. Or maybe he was just reminding you that, in this house, nothing went unnoticed. Not by him.

You crawled back into bed, heart still racing, thoughts spinning. The room was still thick with the weight of his presence, but now you couldn’t shake the feeling that this house, this connection with Simon—it was evolving. What started as fear was slowly becoming something else.

You pulled the blankets up around your shoulders, sinking back into the pillows, your mind buzzing with the strangeness of it all. You were still scared, yes. But you were also intrigued, curious about this man who haunted your life in more ways than one.

And as you closed your eyes, his voice echoed faintly in the static once more.

“… safe.”

Apparition.

One night, everything felt different.

The air was heavier than usual, the familiar static of the radio silent. No footsteps, no whispers, no cold touch on your skin. Simon—the presence you had grown oddly used to—was quiet. Unnervingly quiet. You couldn’t place it, but something felt off. The house felt emptier, darker, as though he had withdrawn into the shadows, leaving you to fend for yourself in his absence.

That night, you had the most terrifying nightmare.

In your dream, a group of men barged into your home. Faces hidden by shadows, their movements quick and violent. They didn’t hesitate, didn’t speak. The fear hit you like a tidal wave, paralyzing your body as they advanced. In the dream, you fought—screaming, kicking, anything to protect yourself—but it wasn’t enough. Cold hands grabbed you, yanked you from the bed, and the flash of a blade was the last thing you saw before the world went dark.

You awoke with a gasp, your heart pounding, your skin clammy with sweat. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you were still dreaming. The fear was too real, too sharp. But then you saw him.

Standing in the doorway, a figure so tall, so broad, you couldn’t mistake it for anything else. A shadow, dark and hulking, its outline barely distinguishable in the dim light of the room. But you knew. You knew it was him.

“Simon…?” you whispered, your voice trembling. The shadow didn’t move, didn’t shift. You couldn’t see his face, just the dark mass of his form, but somehow, you could feel his gaze locked on you. Watching.

He didn’t respond. You blinked, trying to shake the fog of fear clouding your mind. And in that single moment of hesitation, he was gone.

The doorway was empty.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you sat there, staring at the spot where he had been, your pulse still racing from the nightmare. The silence was deafening, the room thick with an unspoken tension. You knew it had been him, but why had he appeared like that? Why now, after so many nights of just whispers and static?

Hours passed, and you couldn’t sleep. Your mind raced with questions, your heart unsettled by his sudden, eerie appearance. You kept replaying the nightmare in your head—the men, the violence, the cold finality of it all. And yet, somehow, you didn’t feel that kind of fear when you saw him.

The radio hummed softly, breaking the silence, and his voice—low, rough—finally came through.

“Scared you… apologize…”

His voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. Sorry. The word lingered in the air, and for the first time, you realized something. He wasn’t a threat to you. Not in death, and probably not even in life. Whatever danger he carried with him, it wasn’t meant for you.

You took a deep breath, your fear settling into something more like curiosity. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the blanket around you. The shadows in the room no longer felt suffocating. You understood now—Simon had never meant to hurt you. He had just… forgotten, maybe. Forgotten what it was like to be with someone, to be close to anyone.

“He’s not here to harm me,” you whispered to yourself, the words feeling right.

But the question that had been burning in your mind for weeks finally broke free. You had to know.

“How did you die?”

The silence in the house deepened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then you heard them—slow, deliberate footsteps echoing from the hallway outside your room. They sent a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but out of anticipation.

The steps stopped just outside the door, and then you heard it. His voice, low and hollow, filled with a pain so deep you could feel it in your chest.

“…Betrayal.”

That single word cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold, leaving a chill in its wake. You closed your eyes, letting it sink in. Betrayal. That’s how he had died. Not in some random home invasion, not in some anonymous act of violence. Someone—someone—had betrayed him. And it cost him everything.

The weight of that word hung over you, making your heart ache for this man who had suffered so much, even after death. He wasn’t just a ghost haunting your home. He was a man with a story, with a past full of wounds that had never healed.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. “Who betrayed you, Simon?”

The radio crackled, but no words followed. Only the soft hum of static, and the slow, steady sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

He wasn’t ready to tell you everything. Not yet.

But now, you knew enough to understand—this house, this haunting, was about more than just restless spirits. It was about Simon Riley, and the scars that still bound him to this world. Scars of betrayal, of loss, of a life cut short in the most painful way.

And you weren’t going to leave. Not until you knew the full story.

You need to leave me.

You had to do it. You couldn’t just keep going on like this, with half-answers and fleeting glimpses of shadows in the night. No more whispers through the static or cold touches in the dark. If Simon was truly here, then you needed to really talk to him. And not just with casual questions thrown into the air. You needed something more direct.

So you set the stage.

Candles. It seemed cliché, maybe even ridiculous, but in your gut, you felt like it might help. You placed them carefully around the room, their soft flickering light casting long shadows on the walls. The whole room felt different, like the air was humming with anticipation. You were nervous—terrified, even—but you were determined to push past the fear.

The night fell, the house cloaked in its usual quiet, but you could sense it. The weight of his presence pressed down on the room, like he was watching, waiting. This time, though, you weren’t going to be passive. This time, you were going to make him appear.

You sat on the edge of the couch, your heart hammering in your chest as you stared at the soft glow of the candles. You focused on the flame, on its steady flicker, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"Simon," you whispered into the stillness, your voice steady, despite the anxiety gnawing at you. "I want to talk to you. Really talk."

The seconds dragged by, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. If he wouldn’t come. Or worse—if he would, and this time, he wouldn’t be so forgiving.

But then, you felt it. The cold shift in the air, the subtle pressure that always preceded his presence. And there he was.

His tall figure emerged from the shadows, slow and deliberate, until he stood just at the edge of the room. He didn’t move like a living person, didn’t sway or shift with his steps. His movements were smooth, too smooth, like a ghost carried on the wind. He was tall, bigger than you remembered, and as he approached, your pulse quickened. He stopped right at the couch, standing above you, his presence overwhelming.

Then he sat.

Your breath hitched. The couch creaked under his weight, and he loomed there, his figure dark and imposing in the low light. You had to fight the urge to run, to hide under the covers like a scared child. Every instinct in your body screamed for you to flee, but you stayed. You had to.

He didn’t speak. Not at first. He just sat there, like some silent sentinel, watching you with that unseen gaze. The air was thick with tension, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Finally, his voice came—low and rough, crackling through the static of the radio.

"You put some candles…" he said, his tone almost… amused. Like he was observing a quaint ritual, one that intrigued him more than it should have.

But it wasn’t his figure that spoke. The shadow on the couch didn’t move, didn’t react. It was still, perfectly still. Yet you could feel him there, could feel the weight of his attention, even though his voice came from the radio, distorted and distant as always.

And then you saw it—the mask.

In the dim light of the candles, the shadows shifted just enough for you to make it out. The mask that had haunted so many of your dreams, the one you’d seen glimpses of in military photos and war documentaries. It was iconic, a skull painted over the face, hollow eyes that stared out into nothingness.

You couldn’t see his face, not really. The darkness concealed him well. But that mask—its outline, its meaning—was unmistakable. He wasn’t just some nameless, faceless ghost. He was Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, and the man behind that mask was more than a simple spirit lost in the ether. He was something else. Something dangerous. Something broken.

But not to you. You knew that now.

"You’re really here," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. It wasn’t a question anymore. He had been there all along, lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting for you to get close enough to see him.

"Why do you stay?" you asked, your voice trembling despite yourself. "Why are you still here, Simon?"

The radio crackled, his voice rough and slow. "No… where else… to go."

Your heart ached at those words. He was trapped. Bound to this place, to this existence, because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. The weight of his loneliness pressed down on you, and for the first time, you realized just how deeply it affected him. The isolation, the silence. It was his prison.

"You have... somewhere to go, live... life, get out of here."

And through the noise of the static and your own heart, you knew that the reason he wanted you gone was because he believed, or knew, that you deserved a better place.

A better company, a real one.

|| Any suggestions for part two, or even new stories, are welcome! ||

|| Part two out now, read HERE ||

[tarotwithdanise]

15 changes and blessings that will happen to your July

༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ how to choose a pile? ✧ . ˚

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

1 - 2 - 3

SOURCE AND CREDITABLE : All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from pinterest , I don’t own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and the reading itself belong to me. Expect grammatical errors with this reading, bear with it because english isn't my mother tongue.

💌 check out my back-up account @melodicbloom bio ; click the link, choose your favorite deals that you wanted to purchase and then send all of them to my email account (daniseallure@gmail.com)

PILE ONE

New energy shifting for your spiritual gifts and abilities.

Your whole family will be protected and watched by God and Angels.

Commitment to a new relationship. Meeting new people in person not online nor virtual.

Joining a spiritual or religious groups.

Old things and something that will remind you of your past will bring attraction to you this month. It's the perfect to work on them, if you haven't in before.

Collecting memories or vintages stuffs.

Your spiritual path is growing, you are now open and recognizing the truth and will soon uncover them.

A confession from S, T or J.

Allowing yourself this time to be feel supported by others and be their supporter as well.

A new positive outlook for the future and present.

Old debt is about to be paid off.

Someone will get married or attending a marriage celebration.

Practicing new languages and instruments.

A birth of a child is a blessing in disguise. Can be starting something new again.

Be patience about what you are asking, you might not able to see it's result this month.

PILE TWO

A big responsibility for yourself to your own family.

A great personal recognition and a positive solution for a problem.

Inheritance or a great fortune for a family.

A blazing love for platonic and familial one.

Moving on from a heartbreak, pain or shocking attack and dating and meeting someone new.

Surprise invitation or meeting from someone. Love is coming for the next months.

Visiting places which is reminding you of your childhood.

July 6 is the most important date. Can miracles and blessings is about to enter in your life.

A dream clarification about a situation.

Influencing others through words and actions.

For spiritual gifts and abilities, you are about to uncover the things about these abilities and gifts.

Big incomes for business and jobs.

A shy person, pretty and psychic is about to reach out to you to ask for your advice.

Redeeming yourself and following what your heart desiring.

Leaving an unhealthy situation.

PILE THREE

Forgiveness, a color green is significant for this pile.

A stabber will caught on act.

Sweet words or actions from a Pisces.

New hobbies, career and friendship is about to shift for your own good.

Exchange something from a true friend.

A dark night will soon to revealed a bright dawn.

Travelling and meeting an old friend.

A letter or message from someone will bring so much joy for you.

Gaining physical and emotional strength.

Openness for good luck and positivity.

Facing a stressful situation or decision.

Healing from fears and traumas.

Travelling from one place to another.

Being ready to change themselves and determine to put themselves away from toxic addction.

Starting believing at oneself.

[fan-goddess]

Hello lovely xo, can I request Aemond reuniting with his childhood love/crush at a feast after not seeing her for six years.

Author Note: Hi love of course you can! I wrote so much more for this than I thought I was gonna write I really took of, plus after looking back at the request I didn’t make them meet at a feast… still I hope your happy!

Word count: 5.3K words

Warnings: None explicitly needed, though reader is described as being female, kissing stuff and insecurities

Other Links: My Ewan Mitchell masterlist for more Aemond content

Taglist: @blue-serendipity

—————

Aemond was one and ten when he first laid his eyes on you, the daughter of Tyland Lannister.

You had golden hair that resembled Sunfyres scales. Your eyes were green like grass. Oh and your smile, it could light over a thousand lanterns. He easily thinks the best part about you was that smile…

The first time Aemond saw you up close was in the library. He was researching Daenys’ prophecies when he heard a strange thumping noise go off within the shelves.

“Hello?” He called out. “Is anyone here?” An annoyed scowl taking over his face when no one showed up immediately to take credit. He went back to reading, though soon he became too on edge to even get past another sentence. What if there was actually a person hidden in the shelves and they wish to kill him?

Aemond put down his book and walked into the shelves, peeking round the corners to see if anyone lurked there. He looked for a couple minutes, shifting from his least favourite section the poetry books to his favourite the section on Targaryen history.

That’s however, when he sees golden hair peeking from the sides of the display. He doesn’t choose to call out to them, in fear the mysterious person will flee and he’ll never get to see them. Aemond slowly takes out his dagger and stalks towards the person, his heart beating rapidly at the possibility of a fight taking place.

When he turns the corner though, with his dagger held high and stance ready to take a fight, he feels his heart is about to burst from his chest when he sees you innocently sitting on the ground with a book in your lap. You seem to be asleep, as the pages aren’t being turned and your neck seems to have laid itself in an uncomfortable position.

He places his dagger back in its hold and kneels forward to take a look, and to see if you truly are sleeping. He nearly smiles when he sees how innocent you look in this view. Though Aemond knows he should not be jealous at that moment, and goes to wake you up as carefully as he can.

“M-my lady…” He all but whispers, gently taking the book from your lap. His restraint shows well as his hands attempt to not caress the skin that’s being revealed from your slightly ridden up skirt. “My lady, I think you need to wake now.” He uses one hand to gently shake your shoulder and the other to grasp your chin and pull your head up. His restraint is tested once more when his thumb nearly brushes over your lips.

Aemond is ever so grateful when you let out a small groan and groggily open your eyes. It’s almost amusing when your eyes turn panicked when you realise the situation you were in. “M-my prince I am so sorry!” You shout. Attempting to stand up but you nearly fall over in the struggle. “P-please do not punish me for being here!”

Aemond cannot help but give an amused smile at your panic. “It’s okay my lady!” He smiled, now standing up to be level with you only to embarrassingly realise you were taller then him… “What is it you were reading?”

You look confused now. Probably wondering why he isn’t kicking you out and demanding your head for sneaking in. “It is not a trick question my lady. What is you were reading?”

“I was reading about your own dragon my prince…” Aemond had to strain his ears to hear what you said, but when he does his ears turn scarlet. You were specifically looking at his dragon and not Sunfyre or Caraxes? Even the book of Balerions journey could’ve been the one you were reading about but no, you chose to look into Vhagar. It made him smile almost cockily.

“And why my dragon in particular?” He grinned. If his mother was there she’d not be happy he was fishing for compliments from a Lannister, yet she wasn’t here at that moment to see the pride that filled him so he carried on anyways.

“She’s an important part of your family’s history! Her nickname is Queen of the dragons which is one of the best names for any of the dragons both still alive and dead!” The way you ramble about his dragons makes his ears burn and smile somehow both bashful and yet cocky at the same time.

Aemond nearly invites you to go meet Vhagar the moment he sees you begin to smile at him, though it takes all his restraint to just talk to you about Vhagar. The two of you become more and more passionate in your conversation and continue to talk until the shelves become dark and nearly impossible to see.

Aemond insists on escorting you to your temporary chambers, secretly relishing when you insist bashfully that you could very easily escort yourself. “I insist my lady you do not know the sort of people that hang around in the corridors of this castle. My brother being one of them…” He relishes even more when he hears you giggle and shyly accept his offer.

The next morning though, when he’s washed himself thoroughly and dressed himself as fancy as he could without Aegon picking up on his intentions, Aemond walks to your chamber doors and knocks nervously. For all he knows you could be half dressed, or still asleep, or even taking a bath… He’s only half sorry when his mind begins to wonder.

Aemond does begin to worry when he stands outside of your chambers for nearly ten minutes and he hears no movements. He takes a deep breath before heading into your chambers, and takes notice of its near pristine state. “My lady?” He calls, even though he knew secretly that it was useless to call for you. He does a little walk around the room to see if he could tell why your presence seems to have left the room.

The sheets and the bed covers are pulled tightly and tucked into the bed. The personal items Aemond had managed to get a small peek at when he brought you to your room last night looking as if they were never their in the first place. The room looked as if nobody had ever slept their that night.

The lack of life in the room made Aemonds skin crawl. Maybe you weren’t even there in the first place? A cruel figment of his imagination that made him believe for a short time he was normal. So he went to the first person he thought could help. His mother.

“Mother, I visited the Lannister daughter this morn to invite her to break fast with us, but she was not there and her room was empty. Do you know why this is?”

“Yes my sweet boy. The girl and her father were summoned back to Casterly Rock near late last night. It seems the lady Lannister had started her labours earlier than the maesters would have liked.” His mother said, looking to her son in sympathy when she saw the saddened look on his face.

“Do you know if she- I mean if they’ll return when her mother has given birth?” Aemond could not help but try and be hopeful, even if he knew their was no chance of it being anything like that.

“I doubt it, sweet boy. The mother has gone into labour nearly a month earlier than expected. I highly suspect the babe may not survive, so they will no doubt wish to mourn the child if it does pass.”

Aemond tried to stop the frown that he could feel was stretching on his face, though it was no use. His mother had already seen it and was looking at him like he was weak. Like he was a silly boy with just a silly crush on a silly girl.

That was the moment Aemond devoted himself to leaving that silly boy behind. Soon he’ll become a man. Maybe it was all secretly so you’ll want to marry him just as much as he secretly wishes to marry you… but he’ll never admit to that.

It’s been six years since Aemond last saw you. He secretly writes letters to you every week, imagining you receiving them and holding them to your chest in excitement. He has never forgotten you. Late at night when he goes to sleep he secretly always wishes for dreams of you to keep him company. None that are dirty of course! Though Aemond didn’t complain when he had one every once in a while…

“Aemond did you hear what I just said?” His mothers voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“No mother I was thinking about, things.”

“Well, as I was saying. We will be hosting the Lannisters for a ball for their eldest daughter starting next week. Her father wishes for her to stay here in kingslanding for a year to give her a better chance at finding a potential and acceptable suitor for her. I believe she’s around your age Aemond...” Aemond could feel his heart beating out of his chest. You were coming back here? He’ll finally get to see you again and see how much you’ve no doubt changed after all these years…

“A marriage with the Lannisters will no doubt be helpful in the long run. I suggest talking to her before anyone else. Her house is a useful ally, though her father will no doubt attempt to go for whoever possess the larger coin pouch.” His grandsire commented halfheartedly as he tucked into his food. Aemond only gave a simple nod before retreating back to his mind, indulging in the simple fantasy of seeing you again.

The rest of that week, Aemond could not take you out of his mind. He had not acted like this since you left six years ago, and it was easy to tell. He was less enthusiastic in his training with ser Cole, thinking of how when you were his bride you’d be sitting proudly on the balcony watching him. He couldn’t read peacefully in the library, only thinking back to how he first met you and how much you truly made him smile that day.

Thankfully to Aemond though the week went surprisingly quickly, and before Aemond knew it he was standing proudly yet nervously for your carriage to pull up and for you to come out.

He’d put on fresh clothes that morning and requested to have a bath drawn for him. He took an awful long time making sure every single part of him was clean and that his hair held no sweat or grease of any kind. Aemond could not shake the look of amusement from both Aegon and his mother, both taking notice of Aemonds sudden pristine condition and nervous exterior.

When the carriage carrying your house colours arrived, Aemond felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Would you even recognise him? Would you even be the same girl he met and talked to all those years ago?

Aemond nearly lets his mouth fall open when you walk out of the carriage, and only just catches the actions before he could embarrass himself anymore than Aegon will no doubt bring upon them.

Your hair still holds the same golden colouring to it, the sun looking like it was reflecting off it. Your figure has quite obviously changed in the years you were gone, the most prominent ones being the fact you’ve… matured. It’s almost amusing to him that you’re shorter than him, when before you were the one who looked down at him as children. Your smile though, that has not changed at all.

He sees the way Aegon leers at you when you curtsy to his mother and thank her for his families hospitality. It brings him such a great amount of joy to kick Aegon swiftly and firmly in the legs when your back is turned talking to Helaena.

Over the next few days, as much as Aemond hates to admit it, he has been hiding from you. Aemond cannot bring himself to strike up a conversation with you, possibly due to a fear that he refuses to acknowledge.

Though he cannot deny the jealousy that takes over him when he sees you laughing with Aegon of all people. When you laugh, you hold your hand in front of your mouth, a trick taught to all young ladies according to Helaena. Though he believes it to be a terrible thing, as it hides the way your face lights up when you’re overcome by laughter.

Aemond even finds himself jealous of Helaena, who you seemed to have grown close to in the last few days. From what he has observed, the two of you like to sit under the tree in the courtyard and discuss a whole manner of items Aemond cannot hear from where he observes on a nearby balcony.

He’s disgusted with himself for acting like some common man, though even though he knows it’s morally wrong he still cannot bring himself to stop. As long as he cannot bring himself to talk to you, he watches you to bring himself a strange sort of comfort. To know that you are okay and safe and nowhere near himself.

Though it seems that you have been upholding a different idea, as one moment when Aemond is looking at you talking with Helaena, he sees you turn to him, look him dead in the eye and show him a kind smile. He can feel his eye widen in the sudden acknowledgement and hide behind a nearby pillar. It brings secret relief to hear your giggle. Assuring him that you are not disgusted as he is in his nature, and that instead you are amused by it for some unknown reason…

Aemond looks around the corner, expecting to see you resuming your conversation with another one of your beautiful smiles on your face, though he is scared nearly out of his skin to find you face to face with himself. It takes him a near minute to find words. No amount of words that he had read over the years seemed to come to him no matter how much he willed it.

“I-I’m sorry for intruding on you my lady Lannister!” He stammered with a bright red face. Aemond does not think he has ever felt as sheepish or as shy as he has at that moment. His face only reddens though when you seem to giggle at him, whether in amusement or in mocking he does not know.

“It is fine my prince.” You smile. Aemond cannot help himself from comparing your voice to the one you possessed as a child. It’s gotten lighter, he thinks. Before you seemed to be shy to talk to him, though that may have been more to do with circumstances rather than who you were talking to, and now your voice held a sense of ease. “Me and your sister were merely nibbling on some honey cakes and talking about the silly things? Would you care to join us?”

When he takes too long to respond, purely out of surprise that you wished for him of all people to join you, you seem to have taken his silence in the wrong context. “You do not have to join if you do not wish to participate in silly lady gossip-“

“Nonsense!” Aemond blurts with a shyness that brings him nearly straight back to his boyhood. “I would be honoured to join a lady such as yourself my lady for what you called, silly lady gossip.” Aemond cannot describe the joy he feels when he sees your reddened cheeks and happy smile. It should be you the painters should be painting, not himself when there’s such obvious other beauties in this world.

The roles are reversed however, when you take his hand in your own and lead him to where you and Helaena were previously conversing. It takes every fibre of his being to not send a cold glare in Helaenas direction. Especially when she sends an amused look and a raised eyebrow his way at the sight of his flushed cheeks and awkward expression.

It surprises Aemond though, when he finds himself enjoying what he had thought would be a dreary conversation. It brings a smile to his face when he makes you laugh so hard you forget to put your hand in front of your face. He even nibbles politely on a couple of the fresh honey cakes you offer him bashfully.

When the supposed picnic is over, Aemond is prepared for you to go off with Helaena and leave him. Though it surprises him when Helaena says her goodbyes, claiming she has a duty she needs to fulfil, and you turn to him with a small sheepish smile. “Do you wish to head to the library with me, my prince? I feel it has been an age since we had a conversation.”

It brings every part of him to answer normally. “I would love to my lady.” With a small smile. One that he doesn’t think he’s ever displayed to anyone else outside his family. He’s delighted that you also share a similar blush that’s painted across both of your cheeks.

Aemond wishes he could start a conversation with you. Though whenever he turns to you all he finds himself doing is turning straight back to the corridor looking straight ahead.

When he and you get to the library, he shyly holds the door open for you to go first. Delighted in the slight blush that appeared at his politeness. He notices how you seem to look around in awe and is delighted that you seem to hold the same love for books as you did as children.

“The library has expanded since the years you have been gone, my lady. I believe near a few hundred couple books were added since.” Aemond smirked. It was a strange get definitely not an unwelcome sight to see someone be as passionate about literature as he did. It easily became a bore when he had to handle people like his brother, who he doubted at this point of his life could even read at all…

“It’s still as beautiful as it looked the last time I saw it…” You whispered, looking at him in an awe. Aemond cannot help himself from wishfully thinking that you were saying that to him. That you’d whisper into his ear how you believe he’s beautiful even after all those years apart.

He’s soon knocked from those blissful thoughts when a pain hits his eye socket and he hisses lightly, gaining your attention. “Are you alright my prince?” You asked in concern, moving to be before him.

“It is alright my lady…” Aemond hisses. “It’s merely a side effect of my deformity…”

“Is there any way I could help?” Aemond could not help but look up at you to see if you were genuine, and by the way you anxiously held a hand to his shoulder and knelt down to him to get a look at his injury he felt like you were.

“I have a balm which the maesters found to help when the pain flared like this…” Aemond cannot help himself from confessing. It felt so strange and unnatural to be talking so freely about his ailment with another person. Though you weren’t just another person. It was you. “It should be in my left breech pocket. If you would be so kind as to grab it for me, my lady, I can apply it myself.”

Aemond attempts to hide the way he gulps when he feels your warm hands on his thighs, fumbling to find the small tube containing the balm. It probably would’ve been more effective if he had told you what the balm was in, though at that moment he cannot stop himself from indulging in your touch as you modestly fumble for it. Even when you do find the tube and remove your hands from him he finds himself missing that small warmth. “Thank you, my lady.” He murmurs, releasing his hold on his eye to unscrew the tube lid.

He’s about to apply it to his eye, when Aemond realises something vital about the process. He’d need to take off his eyepatch, and you’re still in the room watching him concerned. “I’m about to take my eyepatch and I don’t wish for you to be disgusted and feel like you need to watch this…” Aemond cannot bring himself to look at you, in fear you’ll look as disgusted at the mention of looking at him without his patch.

He’s brought out of his self pity though when he feels a sudden warmth on his cheek. Your hand. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cheeks suddenly flush at the realisation.

“I don’t care about your scar, my prince. I have seen far worse from my brothers in the training field.” You smile. The blush on his cheeks does not seem to want to leave, though by the matching colouring that appears on your own cheeks he’s glad.

“You do not need to continue calling me my prince, my lady. You can call me by my name.”

“Okay Aemond. Then I must then insist you call me by mine.”

“If you say so Daena. Though like I said, if you truly do not wish to see my ailment then I suggest you turn away now…” Aemond cannot help himself from near preening at the honour of saying your name out loud in your presence.

“And like I said to you Aemond, you strike no such thing as disgust nor fear in me. In fact, I think I’d dare say what it is you strike me with are the exact opposite.” You smile, not realising just how effective your words were affecting him. Maybe if he was braver, then he would’ve asked exactly what you meant by that. But he didn’t. Instead, Aemond removed his eyepatch and applied the balm to his eye, before covering the area once more and acting like the moment never happened.

Over the next few days, Aemond spent all he could with you, abandoning all his previous plans so he could see you and make you smile. It still brought a chill down his spine to hear you speak his name while you smile and place a delicate hand on his arm. This new pattern that Aemond has developed though is broken, when he heads to your usual spot to find you conversing with Aegon. Or more accurately, Aegon conversing with you while you looked uncomfortable. It only gets worse when Aegon spots him marching towards him.

“Ahh brother! I was just telling lady Lannister all about the pink dread!” Aegon smiled with a cup of some unknown substance. Aemond felt his heart stop in panic. He does not dare to look in your direction, in fear he will see pity within your sweet green eyes. Aemond does not even dare to utter a response to Aegon’s taunt, leaving with his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he feared if he wasn’t clutching his hands, he’d be clenching his fists and punching Aegon’s face till it was shining red with blood.

When Aemond arrives in the library, he attempts to distract himself from his horrid self-pity by rereading one of his favourite pieces of literature, Valyrian dragons and where to find them. A fantastic book playing on both fiction and non. He becomes so enamoured with the writing he does not hear the doors open and delicate footsteps coming towards him. It’s only until he hears a small cough he looks up only to meet your eyes.

“Hello Lady Lannister. What brings you here? Has my brother either bored you of my childhood sorrow or run out of stories to tell?” Aemond scoffs, returning to the page on Dreamfyre.

“I though I told you to call me by my name Aemond?” You said, not moving from your spot.

“Apologies Daena. Tell me, did you enjoy when my brother was telling you tales of how he humiliated me as a boy?” Aemond closes the book, marking the page with a random piece of paper before looking at you.

“No, I must confess I did not. If I am to put it plainly and honestly Aemond, I believe your brother to be an absolute pest and a prat.” Aemond let’s a scoff of laughter at your unladylike language, though it certainly is correct.

“I cannot agree more with you Daena. It’s a surprise my brother has even lived till now. I believe any day well here such sad news on Aegon dying in some brother or ale house. Maybe both if he’s lucky?” Aemond cannot describe the joy he’s feeling, nor can he begin to fathom just how much his heart is racing.

“I think I walked about not long after you did. It took everything in me to not strike him there and then. Especially after seeing how unhappy you seemed to become when he mentioned that pink dread.” Aemond once again looks away at the mention of that dreaded tale. He cannot bring himself to see the pity once more than used to fill so many eyes at the sight of him.

“Do you, do you feel disgust for me? Or even pity?” Aemond murmurs so quietly he didn’t even know if you had truly heard him until you knelt down to be level with him.

“Aemond, I feel a lot of things for you. None of them are anything of the sort that could be even compared to disgust or pity.” You smile again and Aemond feels like his heart will burst from his chest. If you requested it at that moment, Aemond would’ve ripped his heart out then and there and handed it to you on a plate made of pure Valyrian steel. It takes everything in him to swallow the lump in his throat and speak. “May I ask what these emotions you feel for me are? The ones that you claim cannot be compared to disgust, or pity…”

“The feelings I feel for you Aemond are ones that I do not think I am even allowed to tell you of…”

“I do not care,” Aemond now almost desperately grasps onto your hands within his own. He is so close to possibly hearing what he has wanted for more than six years. Your love. “I would kill any who dare to oppose you sweet Daena.”

“You are beginning to sound like your ancestor Maegor the cruel Aemond.”

“It is worth the title and the bloodshed if I am to hear what I hope to hear be uttered from your lips.”

“And what is it you wish uttered from my lips?”

“That you feel a fraction of the same way I feel for you…” Aemond can feel his heart beat from his chest. The library has gone silent. A notion he used to enjoy but now hates more than ever. “Please Daena. Tell me what it is you feel for me so I can no longer feel like my heart is beating straight out of my chest when I see you! So I can no longer think of you as I have been doing for the last six years you have been gone! So I can leave you and never bother you again with my unrequited devotion for you…”

Once again the library’s silence becomes overwhelming as Aemond stares at you in both hope and fear. Your face does not betray you, staring only blankly at the intertwined hands of yours and his.

“What I feel for you Aemond, I think in all the books we have both read and the stories we have shared amongst each other, can only be described as pure devotion to you and only you…” This is when your face reveals a sweet sweet smile that sends Aemonds own face into a blood red blush. “I too thought of you, nearly everyday since my departure. Of that sweet boy who listened to me while I rambled on about a topic he already know plenty of yet still craved for more. That sweet boy who insisted on walking me to my chambers even though he did not have to. That sweet boy, who has grown into such a handsome man, that I think my heart grew fonder the moment I saw you when I stepped from my carriage. I must say though, I was disappointed that you did not send any letters to me in all these years.” You seem to jest.

“I didn’t want you to think of me as an eager boy and a prat…” Aemond reveals with a slight blush, looking down at the ground. It only worsens when he feels you take a hand from his grip and place it on his left cheek to tilt his head up. “I could never think of you like that my sweet Aemond…” He feels his face grow to a deeper red as it spreads all over. He can even feel his ears burning. He stays content in your hold though, Aemond does not think he has ever felt safer in your grasp than he ever felt in his life.

“I do not know if you read those sorts of books, Aemond,” You begin to speak, drawing Aemond from his daze. “But when I was younger and read those old romantic books where the man got the girl he loved, he’d always kiss her…” You grin. Aemond reciprocates it fully, picking up on your definitely not so subtle suggestion.

“Are you suggesting sweet Daena I kiss an unmarried woman in this very room, where there is no one but us?”

“No no my darling,” Aemond can feel his heart go mad at the name you give him. “I am simply asking you to kiss the woman who loves you back with all her heart.”

“Then I guess I have to make my darling love happy then.” Aemond wastes no time in reaching forward to grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. He relishes in the giggles you make for a moment before colliding his lips with your own.

It’s an awkward moment at first, since the two of you have never done this before, but eventually Aemond finds a pace that suits him and you. He finds himself letting out a deep groan from his throat when he tastes your sweet lips for the first time, the taste of strawberries and cherries overcoming his senses. That groan is released once more when he feels your hand make a place for itself in his hair and holding him firmly, Aemonds own hands staying in a near iron grip on your waist.

It is a great shame when he is forced to pull away from you, though he does get the great view of your swollen lips, red cheeks and panting form. “I believe I should talk to your father so I can get his permission to marry you, my sweet girl.” Aemond speaks, a hand removing itself from your waist to go to your face and stroke your warm cheek fondly.

“You truly wish to marry me?” You whisper, making Aemond raise a brow in surprise. “Of course I do. I would not be kissing you and finally confessing my love for you if I didn’t. Besides, the servants will no doubt talk if they are to see us alone here together and I would not wish to besmirch your honour like that.”

“I think that supposed honour left the moment your lips kissed my own…” You smile.

“Mine left the moment you smiled at me when we were children. I’ve never cared for another woman since… Are you truly happy? That I am to hopefully marry you?” Aemond asks, that insecurity creeping back in.

“Of course I am happy, my sweet boy.” You stroke the edge of his scar with your thumb and for the first time Aemond does not immediately jerk away at the contact. For once, he does not feel so ugly. For once he feels wanted and loved. “I would have no one else but you in my arms to love and cherish.”

[bubblewrapsnek]

Phantomarine Reread: Chapter 1

For this chapter I don't have too much to elaborate on so it'll probably be mostly stuff I enjoy about it so uhh enjoy!

Let's begin:

The cover of the chapter is just very fun and good, I love how in a full page what acts as frame is the composition itself, using the rock as both a titlecard, flat space made to have Phae stand out in the centre thanks to less detail around her, and has a couple skeletons climbing on it too making it interacted with the enviorment too, it's just very good, plus lots of cute critters

Bonus, pretty lady with pretty dress

One sword lady just happy to be there, good for her!

Cheth working like a lamp, getting turned off as soon as Phae chickens out is a very good bit xD

Something I also enjoy a lot from this chapter is just how present those godly veins are

You can clearly see them flowing into everything Cheth uses, they work at being somewhat subtle to me, at a first read I just assumed they were for flare, it's a god in the sea hopping bodies, of course he has an aura, but going back they are very consistantly threads coursing through what he touches and moves, around him at all time, and it makes the reveal that those aren't something he causes, but those are HIM very fun to go back to

Also Cheth being so unserious even when angry, giving eyelashes to a t-rex HE CHOSE TO THROUGH A HISSY FIT WITH, THIS GOD CHOSE THE DINOSAUR FAMOUS FOR HAVING TENEE TINY ARMS TO PERK THEM UP AND SHOW ANNOYANCE, love that for them

Something else I want to point out is how Phae is never still, every panel she is moving, posing with dumb bravado sometimes downplaying it a bit, it keeps her expressive and alive even when the obvious main show is Cheth's flamboyance and shapeshifting circus play, and that in itself is also a very fun thing, in a revolving door of actors, the play doesn't loose itself, Cheth's emotions are readable, a character is expressed constantly and flows nicely into a variety of states, and for both of them, keeping this bravado will pay off later in the chapter VERY well

Great visual, the veins themselves working as the smoke, showing he is loosing patience, he is fuming while being underwater

Another bonus point: Extremely rare instance where I find M!Cheth looking hot in a sense of coolness instead of the usual lovely dork clown (he is hot in both ways but this is a different taste)

Plus

The facless crowd of red eyes not playing, smiling or fooling around anymore, they are finally dead set on her, she created a play for them and he provides the pressure of an audience, more than the panel before, with her literally being portrayed in front of the t-rex's mouth, this feels like the maw of the beast surrounding her, sizing her and ready to devour her, ready to have her be part of the facless crowd of observers, very spooky

And this feeling of the maw of the beast pays off, 'cause shit gets real very fast, Cheth doesn't take it lightly and goes for the throat with a question that not only he thinks she would never know, but that hurts so so much, (and also shows what is in his mind when dealing with royalty, not the attacks towards him directly, not the damage to him, but the countless children who have been deprived of a family due to all this). This works as a tone shift, the first, altho minor, payoff from the swagger set up early in the chapter, and this question hits you in the face hard and fast

Cheth's frame while asking this is almost as big as the burden of that knowledge, a question so heavy the panel under it is quite literally being smothered, Phae's face accomapanying the reader who didn't expect the shift

And this leads to another piece of characterization that will come back later, Cheth cares for children, this isn't just a question done to hurt her but it's something he cares for, and why do I say this? well it's something I read not only in what will be said later on in other chapters, but in Cheth's reaction when Phae actually can provide an answer

He is confused, but also looks genuinely worried about her, he is dumbfounded AND concerned for the woman who showed to care about something he thought she would have only superficial empathy towards, for the girl who just admitted to being herself a lost child in grief (little headcanon, the cat showing up is there to be ready to help in case it got too far)

Something else I want to make note of that I find very compelling:

The background, Phae answers and the background goes BLANK, until now it consistantly framed her in either blue or red, either in Cheth's play or taking a step back from it, but now, this is something that wasn't part of his tease, this wasn't something he thought would happen, Phae's care and grief quite literally breaks Cheth's overwhelming, presence here, it feels as if not only is he shocked, but he is giving her a brief moment to breath, letting her have some space for just a moment, I love it

And this also leads to a moment I find very interesting, and I would like to give my reading to

The way I read it as of the time of writing this, is that Cheth has a deep fondness towards humanity, the anathema comic shows a devotion to his love for the people he fares in the afterlife, for the children of man who have all but forsaken him, and here he is ANGRY, but why would he be angry that the king actually cared for said people? I can think of one reason: at this point he has been waiting for a sign for 5000 years, made to sit back and watch for ages the humanity he loves sending their man foolishly to die in a war against him in which he isn't even participating, and I think he might have internalized how the people he loves have accepted a doctrine against him so deeply that they deem the sacrifice of their lives and the suffering of their children as worth less than fighting him. But what does he learn now? that the king, the guide of this war, feels guilt over this, that the mean leading all those people to die had to find a way to cope with how terrible that weight is, that they haven't forgotten how precious the lives of his people are, AND YET HE KEEPS SENDING THEM TO DIE, EXACTLY LIKE THEY DID FOR THE PAST 5000 YEARS. This is beyond foolish, this is pure denial of knowing that what you are doing is terrible, and thinking you can offset it by being kind instead of working on the problem at the root of it, I too would be angry if the man leading those fathers and mothers to abandon their children tried to save his conscience by doing charity instead of preventing those deaths to begin with.

God this came out rant-y, and probably not perfectly worded

Moving on

Remember when I spoke about how the constant expressiveness and bravado of the characters is a great setup, well here we get to the first very big payoff in my opinion

Once again, Cheth's overwhelming red get's completely broken, stark white coral framing the object of something that deeply hits him and breaks his flow, he stops to a screeching halt for the first time, speechless and astounded. without all that overwhelming presence before, all that bravado, this loss of control would hit so much less and it doesn't stop here, no this is the first punch of a two hit combo, the proverbial quiet before the storm

And this also leads to another reversal in their constant duel present in this chapter, up to now all of this has been a back an forth, a dance where Phae responds in kind to Cheth's provocations, and here, she doesn't reflect an attack, but just like Cheth seeing her at a low before had him react with a look of pity, she responds here with the same concerned expression

Sadly, Cheth isn't in a place where vulnerabilty is something that can be helped with pity or comfort, not now

Now all he is, is a raging storm of emotions

And how does he get back control of the scene? he lashes out, he once again becomes overwhelming, the entire scene becomes a vortex of red and anguished faces, Phae's bright yellow gets tinted in a red glow, something deep within him has been touched

And MY GOD is the subsequent page a mic drop, the red slowly drifts to the bottom, her emotions are settling down, there is a moment of reflection and quiet, of many things she probably couldn't hope to think about for such a long time finally piecing together, and with those elements coming into place, here comes a new face that we will come to know along the way, not only is this a new face in the chapter, this is an expression of Cheth's state of mind in my opinion, as we will later learn that the sign he was waiting for, all he is doing and setting up, it was all in the name of a promise made to this face. at least, this is my read atm, we'll have to see how the story unfolds to see how well it fits

Have you ever seen a lady so beautiful you forgot you are dealing with Satan and decided to flirt? Phae sure has

And here we arrive at the reason I said Phae's tired reaction to the death of children was the "minor" payoff to the bravado shown

Cause damn here we get to the main show of her fall

But also, shock factor aside, I want to point out how this is the first truly mean spirited move Cheth has made thus far, the question of children came from a place of care, this is purely mean, nothing can come from being this petty and evil in action, it's almost parody of the demonic figure he gets painted as, almost...

Yeah you all probably know what I'm getting at, this is the first action she takes after learning of the bonefish, of the sign, and we later learn that she actively decided to play up the evil aspect Phae knows her as, painting herself as a disgusting villain because that was the role she thought would work, after all, would kindness and explaining have worked? she is basically programmed to hate them...

And with this Cheth has completely put the curtain back on, the second act of the play has started and they are both the director and the actors, the scene once more tinges itself in overwhelming red as they start their show

After this point the chapter is quite straightforward to me, tho it doesn't shy away from some very neat shots that end up being some of my favourites of the entire chapter

Like this one, it creates a very good feel of having Phae on the backfoot, the textbox itself works in presenting her driven in a corner, against a wall, even amidst a boundless ocean she has no escape, and Cheth taking center stage to the panel also works in establishing them once more in control

Meanwhile, I honestly can't even explain why I like this laugh so much, it's just so visceral, so played to an extreme, the sea itself is laughing, Cheth looks like he could fall over on their back from how the laugh is bending them, you the reader aren't safe from the thunderous laughter as the panel itself breaks down, becoming seafoam, you are seeing them explode over the question of Shoshanna's return and once again, Cheth is playing up a villain, we see later down the line how the argument of Shoshanna breaks them and tears them down, and here I think they are masking it, they play up their bravado to an higher degree than ever before, a villain so incredibly sure of themselves that they can stop and laugh so much they aren't even seeing you anymore, they are completely exposed, not a single shade has their eyes open to keep watch on you

What grief could ever deserve such a boisterous mask?

AND HE KEEPS GOING, HE KEEPS UPPING THE FACADE

He both becomes and rides a wave about to wash Phae away, he both is master of a distaster and the disaster itself, all this part feels like is him deciding to play the villain and putting on his best theatrics to deliver it, they become mean, deameaning, ruthless, the teases don't feel as fun anymore, Phae isn't in a place to make it a back and forth anymore

The chapter starts as an ebb and flow between our main characters, but by the end there is no more pushback, Cheth has become a flood and Phae has lost the ground she was so confidently standing on before

And she manages to get a hold for a last desperate second, she has been pushed so far back in a corner that she lashes out violently, but in the end, even this is futile, in the end...

The tidal wave has crushed her, and she can do nothing but break.