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robinvomit · 2 months ago

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† the gentle art of cat-like courtship : tim.

♦ request: not really, just fighting burnout ♦ beta’d: nope ♦ a/n: this whole set is taken from an oc background - if y'all want that background, i can post it as a like.. adoptible oc type deal, so it's easier to imagine as reader. tiny bit of info under the cut, just for context.

+ reader is from a different earth and was brought back to life via lazarus pit after some nefarious bs. she has no memories at all but still has trained instinct. jason finds her and takes her in, attempting to help and all that. anyway- moving on. ( the oc is a she/her - i did do my best to make it gn otl if there are spots fucked up --- welp. )

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jason had grown used to your presence in his life. months had passed since he first found you; months filled with quiet companionship, late-night sparring sessions, and countless hours of sitting in comfortable silence, watching as you thumbed thoughtfully through the books he'd bring home. neither of you had anticipated it but you'd somehow slipped effortlessly into his routine, as if you'd always belonged there. even without memories, even without a past to anchor you, you'd carved a comfortable place in jason's life.

but tonight, something felt different. off, somehow.

he stood quietly at the kitchen counter, arms folded loosely over his chest, watching you carefully as you sat curled up at the far end of the couch. your legs were pulled beneath you, your eyes unfocused and fixed vaguely on the page in front of you. you'd been like this for days - distant, distracted, withdrawn - and jason had been patient, waiting for you to talk to him first. but clearly, that wasn't going to happen tonight.

finally breaking the silence, jason set his coffee mug down gently and fixed you with a pointed stare. "alright," he said slowly, his voice cautious but firm, "what's up?"

your gaze snapped up to meet his, startled as if he'd jolted you from deep thought. "what?"

"you heard me," jason said, folding his arms as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "you've been acting weird all day. hell, you've been off all week. you're either mad about something or you're thinking way too hard. either way, i need to know if i should be worried."

you hesitated, fingers tightening instinctively around the edges of your book. silence fell again, thick and heavy between you, and jason felt the subtle shift in the air; the quiet tension he'd learned to recognize in you whenever something serious was on your mind.

"come on," he prompted gently, voice losing its playful edge. "talk to me."

at last, after what felt like an eternity, you exhaled softly and closed the book. your fingers traced nervously over the cover as you set it aside, your eyes drifting downward. it was clear you were trying to find the words, and jason gave you the space, patient even though he was dying of curiosity.

"i think…" you began slowly, your voice so quiet jason nearly had to lean forward to catch it. "i think i might like one of them."

jason blinked slowly, trying to parse what you'd just said. "wait, like - what?"

you drew a shaky breath, clearly uncomfortable with this admission. "i think i might have a crush," you clarified quietly.

jason stared at you, completely frozen. of all the things he'd imagined you saying, this had honestly never even crossed his mind. he'd prepared himself for just about anything - flashbacks, doubts about your past, questions about your place here - but never this. not you, of all people, quietly admitting to developing feelings for one of his idiot brothers.

his mouth opened and closed once, twice, before he managed a coherent response. "i…wait, what?"

you looked down quickly, embarrassment flooding your expression. "it's not that big of a deal."

jason's brain, however, was vehemently disagreeing. "not a big deal?" he repeated incredulously, running a hand through his hair and pacing a few steps across the room. "are you kidding me? you.. you barely even talk to people! you still avoid using their names half the time. forgive me if this is a bit of a shock."

your brows knitted together defensively, your posture tensing. "i'm working on it," you muttered, clearly displeased with his reaction.

he stopped pacing and turned back toward you with an exaggerated sigh, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "okay, fine. fine. you're right, you're working on it. whatever. but seriously, who is it?"

again you hesitated, clearly conflicted. the anxiety radiating from you was almost palpable, and jason felt the beginnings of dread clawing at his chest. he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, bracing himself for the worst.

"oh god," he muttered, watching you carefully. "i'm going to hate this, aren't i?"

you sighed deeply, resigned. "probably."

jason let out a dramatic groan and slumped onto the couch beside you, tilting his head back against the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. "please," he pleaded softly, "please tell me it's not damian. i swear to god, if it's damian-"

you snorted despite yourself, breaking the tension just a little. "no, it's definitely not damian."

jason visibly relaxed, his entire body slumping back into the cushions with relief. "oh, thank god," he breathed, pressing a hand dramatically over his heart. "kid's already territorial enough. i don't need him acting like a jealous guard dog."

but your silence lingered, heavy and telling, and jason tensed again, realization dawning across his face. his gaze turned sharp and searching, his tone cautious but resigned. "it's one of them, though, isn't it? it's definitely one of my dumbass brothers."

you didn't respond, your face heating rapidly as you avoided his eyes. jason groaned loudly, dramatically flopping backward onto the couch and covering his face with both hands.

"this is actually the worst thing that could have happened to me," he lamented, voice muffled through his fingers. "i finally got used to you being this mysterious, cryptic little stray, and now i have to come to terms with the fact that you've gone and developed a crush on one of them."

"you're being dramatic," you muttered, trying not to smile.

jason removed his hands just long enough to shoot you a wounded look. "yes. yes, i am being dramatic. because i just got comfortable with you existing quietly and broodingly in my space and now i have to deal with feelings? and crushes? it's too much."

"you act like i planned this," you replied defensively.

jason groaned again, finally sitting up and shaking his head. he gave you a sidelong glance, resigned but determined. "okay, fine. let's just rip the band-aid off. which one is it?"

you looked at him cautiously, biting the inside of your cheek. his expression shifted slowly from confusion to realization, and then finally, to absolute horror.

"oh my god," he whispered, voice filled with disbelief. "it's tim, isn't it?"

your cheeks flared hot, and you immediately looked away. jason burst out laughing again, though this time it was equal parts disbelief and astonishment. "tim? seriously? of all my brothers - wait, of all the people in gotham - you chose tim?"

"shut up!" you groaned, half-heartedly pushing at his shoulder. jason dodged easily, still wheezing with laughter.

"i just don't understand how this happened!" he gasped out between fits of laughter. "what was it? did he ramble about some obscure computer software or historical trivia? did you imprint on him like some kind of baby duck?"

you buried your face back into your hands, regretting every life choice you'd ever made. "i hate you," you muttered miserably.

oh, it wasn't even close to over.

jason was still laughing, though - so hard, in fact, that his sides had begun to ache, and tears stung the corners of his eyes. he'd never expected this day to come, not in a million years, and certainly not under these circumstances. of all the revelations, of all the possibilities, this was the very last thing he'd imagined happening. he had been ready for anything else: resurfaced trauma, existential crises, maybe even your sudden decision to abandon the vigilante life. but this? this took the cake.

"you-" he paused, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath, "oh, god, please tell me you're messing with me, because i cannot wait to see his face when he finds out."

he expected some sort of sarcastic retort - at worst, perhaps, you'd throw a cushion at his head, or at best, you'd roll your eyes and threaten his life. that was your way, after all; stoic, quiet, but certainly never passive when provoked. instead, the silence stretched on for longer than felt comfortable, and when jason finally regained his composure enough to glance your way, he froze.

you weren't laughing. you weren't even glaring at him with mild annoyance or irritation. your face was hidden behind your palms, shoulders drawn tight, the entire curve of your spine rigid with tension. the atmosphere shifted instantly from playful teasing to something deeper, something more serious. he could practically feel the anxiety radiating off you in waves and suddenly, all amusement drained away, replaced swiftly by concern.

"hey, wait," he said softly, lowering his voice into something careful and gentle as he shifted closer. he tried to get a better look at your face, tried to read you as carefully as he had learned to over these past few months, but you refused to lift your head. "hey. come on, look at me. what's wrong?"

you swallowed hard, your throat tightening painfully as you shook your head. "i'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible, barely there, as though speaking louder might make it all somehow worse. "i shouldn't have said anything."

jason blinked in confusion, caught off guard by your sudden and unexpected remorse. this wasn't at all what he'd intended. "wait, wait - sorry?" he asked incredulously. "for what? what do you have to be sorry about?"

your fingers curled tightly into fists, knuckles turning white as they twisted into the fabric of your sweater. the silence stretched painfully between you again, heavy and suffocating, until finally you spoke, your voice trembling and uncertain. "i just.. i don't know. is it bad? did i.. did i mess things up?"

jason's chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in your tone. it was suddenly clear to him just how deeply this was affecting you. to him, it had seemed hilarious, harmless - just a silly crush, something to tease you mercilessly about, something to hold over your head for years to come. but to you, it was serious. it was real. it was terrifying.

"you really think liking tim is something to apologize for?" jason asked gently, shifting closer until he could rest his arm lightly against yours. his voice had completely lost its earlier teasing lilt, replaced entirely by genuine concern and compassion. "look, i was just messing around. i was laughing because, well - because that's what brothers do. i never meant to make you feel like you'd done something wrong."

when you finally lifted your gaze, your eyes were wide and filled with a raw uncertainty that made jason's heart twist sharply. you drew a shaky breath, visibly struggling to keep your voice steady. "it just feels…weird," you admitted, your eyes flickering away quickly, as if afraid you'd see judgment reflected back at you. "he's a sarcastic asshole, and sometimes he's frustrating. but he's kind of sweet. and he remembers my favorite snacks.. he remembers my coffee order, even though i never told him. he just knew, somehow, and that means something. it means something to me."

jason sat quietly beside you, absorbing your words as he felt the weight of their meaning settle over him. he'd been so busy teasing you, so absorbed in the shock and humor of the situation, that he hadn't stopped to consider how deeply you must feel. you'd spent months without memories, months without an identity of your own, desperately searching for anything real and tangible to hold onto and now here it was, your first genuine connection, your first real feeling. of course it terrified you.

he let out a long, slow breath, reaching over carefully to nudge your knee with his own until you finally looked back at him again. "listen," he began softly, "is it weird? yeah, okay, sure.. it's definitely a little weird. i mean, it's tim. but liking someone - especially someone who treats you well and makes you happy? there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. you deserve to have something good, especially after everything you've been through."

your shoulders visibly relaxed at his words, tension slowly melting from your frame as though you'd finally been granted permission to breathe. jason saw the subtle shift, the relief washing through you as you absorbed the sincerity in his reassurance, and he felt the heaviness in his own chest ease slightly.

"besides," jason continued after a moment, his tone carefully shifting back toward the lighter side to ease the last lingering discomfort, "if he ever screws up or hurts you, even a little, you know i'll kick his ass, right? no hesitation. brotherly duties and all."

the tension shattered abruptly as a small, genuine laugh escaped you, soft but unmistakably real. your hand came up quickly, brushing away the lingering moisture at the corners of your eyes as you shook your head in mild amusement. "i still hate you, jason," you muttered, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the lie.

he grinned widely, looping an affectionate arm around your shoulders and squeezing gently. "nah," he retorted easily, leaning back comfortably against the couch, "you love me."

you didn't bother to argue this time, just smiled faintly and shook your head, exasperation warring with reluctant affection in your gaze. jason chuckled quietly, satisfied. he knew, deep down, he'd never tire of this—never tire of being the annoying, protective big brother you'd never known you needed.

and judging by the tiny, barely-there smile that lingered at the corners of your lips, you felt exactly the same way.

tim drake was genuinely confused.

you had been acting strange lately, though admittedly, "strange" was a relative term. it wasn't as if you were usually predictable - far from it - but lately your behavior had taken an unexpected turn, one he couldn't quite figure out how to interpret.

you weren't doing anything wrong or unpleasant; just something…out of character.

first, there was the hovering. tim noticed it subtly at first, because you'd never exactly been the type to actively seek out company. normally, you preferred your solitude, keeping to yourself and rarely initiating interactions. but lately, he'd find you sitting nearby whenever he worked at the batcomputer. you'd position yourself at an adjacent console, your presence quiet yet undeniably there, a silent comfort that he'd grown accustomed to without even realizing it. even getting coffee had changed. now he'd glance up from the counter to find you standing there quietly, as if you'd materialized from nowhere, comfortably existing in his orbit.

then there were the touches. small gestures, innocent enough to overlook at first: a gentle bump of your shoulder against his as you passed him in the hallways, the soft brush of your knee against his when you sat beside him. each time was brief, subtle, almost accidental - except tim was too observant not to notice the frequency and consistency of these small acts. they happened far too often now to simply dismiss as chance.

but it was the snack that truly threw him off.

it wasn't even the snack itself, really. people brought each other food all the time. it was the way you had dropped it so abruptly in front of him, eyes downcast, before promptly retreating without a single word. the entire exchange had felt oddly meaningful, as if you were trying to communicate something tim was too oblivious to catch. he'd stared at the snack - a bag of his favorite chips, no less - and felt utterly lost.

finally admitting that he was completely out of his depth, tim had sought out the one person who might offer clarity: dick grayson. dick always seemed to understand these sorts of things instinctively. relationships, social cues, the complexities of people; dick was good at it all. if anyone could translate your behavior into something tim could grasp, it would be him.

he'd found dick lounging on the couch at the manor, scrolling lazily through his phone. when tim had awkwardly described your recent behavior, carefully trying not to sound too confused or desperate for answers, dick had initially just stared at him blankly. then, as realization slowly crept across dick's face, he'd broken into an enormous grin.

"oh my god," dick muttered, eyes sparkling with sudden amusement. "y/n's a cat."

tim blinked, utterly bewildered. "…what?"

dick burst into laughter, loud enough to echo through the room. "no, seriously," he said between chuckles, clearly delighted by this revelation. "they're literally acting like a cat!"

tim frowned, trying to puzzle out what exactly dick meant by that. "wait - hold on. what does that even mean?"

dick's grin widened impossibly further, and he threw an affectionate arm around tim's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "buddy," he said warmly, voice thick with amusement, "they like you."

tim froze completely, eyes widening, his thoughts spinning rapidly in circles as he tried to process what dick had just casually tossed out into the air. "they.. wait, what?"

dick laughed again, giving tim's shoulder an affectionate shake. "come on, tim, think about it! they're hovering around you, nudging you for attention, bringing you gifts," he said, ticking off each point dramatically on his fingers, clearly enjoying tim's growing embarrassment and dawning realization. "they're basically courting you like a stray cat!"

tim stared straight ahead, suddenly remembering every small moment; the soft brushes of your shoulder, the silent comfort of your presence, and the snack left pointedly before him like an offering. slowly, the pieces clicked into place, each subtle action suddenly infused with clear meaning.

oh.

he'd never even realized you were capable of expressing yourself in such quietly affectionate ways. and now that he understood, now that the implications were becoming painfully clear, he felt his cheeks warming dramatically, his pulse quickening as his heart raced.

dick must have caught the look on his face, because he erupted into fresh peals of laughter, patting tim's shoulder sympathetically. "oh man, you're completely gone for them, aren't you?"

tim opened his mouth to protest, but the words died instantly on his tongue. instead, he simply stood there in stunned silence, the truth hitting him like a ton of bricks. he swallowed, trying - and failing - to calm the rapid fluttering in his chest.

because dick, annoyingly, was absolutely right.

the next day was nothing short of torture for tim drake. you, of course, were acting completely normal - normal by your standards, at least. that meant quiet, thoughtful, and unmistakably cat-like. you moved through the batcave with your usual quiet confidence, seemingly oblivious to the internal meltdown you'd inadvertently caused.

but tim? tim was absolutely losing his mind.

now that dick had so kindly pointed out your subtle affections - your feline gestures, your quiet offerings, and your gentle nudges - tim couldn't help but notice every tiny movement you made. every action felt meaningful, every brush of contact deliberate. his senses were dialed up to eleven, hyper-aware of you in a way he had never been before, and he felt entirely unprepared to deal with it.

when you walked into the briefing room that morning and lightly brushed your shoulder against his as you passed, tim nearly short-circuited on the spot. he'd been staring blankly at the computer monitor, completely focused on a set of data points, and suddenly your quiet, casual touch was enough to send sparks dancing beneath his skin, jolting him from his thoughts and leaving him utterly speechless.

and it only got worse from there.

later, when you approached him holding two cups of coffee—one for yourself and one precisely matching tim's usual order—he froze entirely, eyes wide as he stared down at the offered cup in shock. he blinked slowly, utterly stunned by the realization that dick had been completely right: you'd memorized something as simple and seemingly meaningless as how he took his coffee. something warm and sweet bloomed deep in his chest, and he barely managed a quiet, stunned "thanks," before retreating to the safety of his work once again.

but the final blow came when you stretched lazily near the batcomputer, your arms rising slowly above your head as you arched your back slightly; just like a cat waking from a long nap. tim, completely unprepared for the sight, felt heat rush to his face so rapidly he was sure he'd spontaneously combust if he didn't remove himself immediately. he quickly turned on his heel and walked away, practically fleeing the room before he embarrassed himself further.

jason, of course, noticed instantly.

"you're acting weird," jason said smugly, leaning against a nearby table, clearly amused by tim's discomfort.

tim shot him a fierce glare, though it lacked real heat. "no, i'm not."

jason chuckled, folding his arms across his chest with a knowing look. "oh, you absolutely are. you're practically twitching."

tim scowled and pointedly turned his attention back to the stack of files in front of him, determined not to engage further. jason laughed softly to himself, entirely too pleased with the unfolding drama. but jason's amusement was the least of tim's worries. he had a far bigger problem on his hands:

you liked him.

and the truth was, tim liked you too.

but acknowledging that openly - expressing it directly - felt overwhelming and complicated. he knew you weren't the type of person to declare your feelings outright. in combat, you were direct and efficient, but emotionally? emotionally, you spoke through subtle actions, gestures, quiet touches and thoughtful gifts. that meant if tim wanted you to understand how he felt, if he wanted you to really know… he'd have to learn to speak your language.

tim swallowed nervously, glancing back toward you across the room, still casually leaning against the batcomputer, reading through mission notes. his heart sped up, nerves tangling uncomfortably in his chest as he made a quiet decision.

he was going to have to be a cat too.

tim had never been the physically affectionate type. he liked his personal space, often keeping a careful distance from others unless closeness was absolutely necessary. it wasn't personal; it was just who he was. but with you, he found himself willing - no, needing - to make an exception.

he waited until later that evening, when the cave had grown quiet and calm, the soft glow of monitors illuminating the space in shades of blue. you were seated on one of the chairs, legs curled comfortably beneath you as you silently scanned through documents on a tablet. summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, tim quietly settled into the seat beside yours, his pulse loud in his ears as he deliberately brushed his knee against yours, just gently enough to seem accidental, but intentional enough to be noticed.

you paused, your eyes briefly flickering away from the screen, landing curiously on his face as you assessed the situation. tim kept his expression neutral, forcing himself not to react outwardly even as his heart raced wildly in his chest. for one nerve-wracking moment, you said nothing, clearly processing what he'd done.

he nudged you again, a little more confidently this time, meeting your gaze with a calmness he absolutely did not feel inside. your head tilted slightly to one side, eyes softening with cautious curiosity, your attention fully shifting from the tablet to him. tim continued to casually sip his coffee, feigning complete nonchalance even as he waited anxiously for your reaction, afraid he might have misread everything and humiliated himself.

then, slowly, deliberately, your lips twitched upward into the barest hint of a smile, and without breaking eye contact, you gently nudged him back.

tim's heart nearly stopped entirely, relief and joy flooding him so strongly he was sure you could sense it. he had done it. he'd taken the risk, spoken your language, and finally bridged the gap between you.

and now?

well, now there was no going back and honestly, tim didn't mind at all.

it began quietly. so quietly, in fact, that at first neither of you even realized it was happening. the subtle gestures between you and tim unfolded slowly and gradually, small moments building layer by gentle layer into something unmistakably meaningful. you weren't one for grand declarations, and neither was tim; instead, your affection took the shape of quiet touches and thoughtful gestures, a shared language only the two of you understood.

tim discovered quickly that the simplest things could hold deep meaning. he'd be hunched over the computer late at night, shoulders tight with exhaustion, eyes gritty from too many hours staring at screens, when you'd appear silently at his side, setting down a steaming mug of coffee exactly how he liked it. no words spoken - just quiet acknowledgment. and tim, feeling warmth spread steadily through his chest, would respond by sliding one of your favorite protein bars wordlessly across the table toward you, watching from the corner of his eye as you accepted it with an almost shy tilt of your head, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.

this was flirting now, apparently. this careful exchange of snacks and drinks had become your language, your gentle way of acknowledging something neither of you was quite ready to speak aloud. it became a comforting routine, these small gestures exchanged daily, the quiet affection underlying every small offering becoming a foundation upon which your relationship slowly, naturally grew.

but it didn't stop there.

tim quickly learned to anticipate the small brushes of your shoulder against his, those casual little bumps you'd give him whenever you passed by in the batcave, training room, or even just in the hallways. after a few times, he decided to test his confidence, bumping you back gently but firmly - just enough to draw your attention, enough to coax that amused smirk onto your face, the one he quickly discovered he liked far more than he should.

the physical interactions grew bolder, though never losing their subtlety. after particularly grueling training sessions, you'd collapse onto the couch in the lounge area, your limbs tired and your eyes half-closed, and tim found himself staying put instead of politely moving to give you space. at first, you'd both remain motionless, carefully gauging each other's reactions out of the corner of your eyes. but gradually, you'd allow yourselves to relax into that shared space, the distance between you growing smaller with every passing evening.

and then came the night you fully tested the waters.

it was quiet in the manor, the air peaceful, almost serene. tim was curled on the couch, engrossed in case files, hair tousled from hours of concentration, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. you appeared suddenly, silent as always, but instead of simply settling near him, you boldly dropped onto the cushion directly next to him. he glanced up, startled but pleased by your sudden proximity, and his heart immediately started racing when, without hesitation, you shifted closer and carefully leaned your weight into his side.

tim froze. every muscle in his body stiffened, his pulse roaring loudly in his ears. he felt certain you must be able to hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs, betraying his attempt at calm. for one fleeting moment, tim was convinced he might genuinely die from sheer nerves.

but he stayed still - utterly still. he'd learned enough from you by now to understand the significance of moments like these. you'd taken the step closer, testing, waiting to see how he'd react. tim forced himself to take slow, steady breaths, gently allowing himself to relax into the warmth of your touch, quietly savoring the soft press of your shoulder against his own.

seconds passed by painfully slowly, and when he finally felt you relax fully against him, he allowed himself a small, relieved exhale, warmth flooding his chest as he realized he'd done the right thing. he had passed your quiet test. the intimacy of the moment was delicate, precious, and fragile and yet it felt perfectly natural. right.

no words needed to be exchanged. instead, he adjusted his position subtly, just enough to give you more room, inviting you silently to settle deeper against him if you wished. and when you did exactly that—breathing out a contented sigh, your head gently tilting until it rested comfortably against his shoulder; tim felt the tension drain fully from his body, replaced instead by a quiet, powerful sense of joy.

this was their language now, your mutual understanding crafted through quiet gestures and gentle touches. this was the way you communicated, careful and intentional. neither of you rushed, neither of you pushed. you simply waited, patient and observant, watching and responding to each other's small signals, your affection growing naturally through a quiet, mutual understanding.

and as tim sat there with you leaning softly against him, warmth blooming steadily in his chest, he realized that he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

the batcave was strangely peaceful tonight, bathed in the familiar glow of the massive computer monitors, the hum of their cooling fans the only ambient sound. it was the kind of quiet that rarely existed in gotham; a calm without tension, a silence that invited peace rather than caution. jason was out with dick on patrol, damian was off handling a lead of his own, and even bruce was absent, leaving the cavernous space solely to tim.. and to you.

tim had been working steadily at the computer for hours, fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard as he typed his reports, but his mind refused to fully focus. his thoughts continually wandered, drawn inexorably toward the warmth beside him, the gentle presence of you quietly seated just inches away. every now and then your arm brushed against his, causing a warmth to settle comfortably beneath his skin, making his heart quicken in ways he wasn't quite ready to admit.

neither of you spoke, but that was hardly unusual. silence had become your shared language, comfortable and familiar. tim didn't need words to know you were watching him, just as he was acutely aware of your breathing, steady and calming beside him. tonight, though, your closeness felt more deliberate, the small touches more intentional, as though you were both inching toward something inevitable.

tim forced himself to focus on the files in front of him, desperately trying to keep his thoughts in line, but it quickly proved impossible. he paused mid-keystroke, feeling your presence more keenly than ever, and finally gave up the pretense of work. slowly, he turned his chair toward you, meeting your quiet, watchful gaze head-on.

your eyes met his immediately, steady and calm, betraying no hint of uncertainty. it sent a jolt through his chest, because you'd never looked at him quite like this before - openly, gently, yet deeply serious. for a moment, neither of you moved. neither dared break the silence, afraid it might fracture this delicate, perfect moment.

your head tilted slightly, curiosity and something deeper sparkling in your eyes. tim felt his pulse speed up, the gentle tension between you stretching almost unbearably thin, until finally it snapped not with a sudden break, but with a slow, gentle surrender.

without thinking, tim leaned forward ever so slightly, and you mirrored the movement with quiet confidence, meeting him halfway. your noses bumped softly, foreheads brushing gently together in a gesture you'd both grown quietly accustomed to. it was your gesture now; an intimate, cat-like acknowledgment you'd both come to treasure. it spoke of trust, understanding and everything that had brought you together. this silent gesture had become your personal confession, your quiet way of admitting all the things neither of you could say aloud.

you paused there for a heartbeat, your breath warm as it ghosted softly against his lips, eyes half-closed and uncertain. your fingers twitched at your side, as if unsure whether or not it was safe to reach out to him fully. tim didn't rush you, didn't move to push or pressure. he waited, offering you the patience and gentle acceptance he knew you needed.

finally, you seemed to make your decision. your nose nudged softly against his once more; delicate, playful, sweetly affectionate. and tim, heart racing, tilted his face just enough that his lips brushed softly against yours, a whisper-light kiss filled with the quiet certainty he'd longed to communicate. it lasted only a second, yet it carried the weight of everything you'd both felt for so long, everything you'd tried to say without words.

when you slowly drew back, your eyes fluttered open, your expression vulnerable but unmistakably happy. a soft smile played at the corners of your lips, teasing yet warm, filled with gentle triumph. "well," you murmured quietly, voice barely above a whisper, though still rich with soft amusement, "i think that counts."

tim let out a breathless, slightly dazed laugh, the sound barely audible in the quiet of the batcave. he couldn't quite tear his gaze from yours, feeling strangely weightless, his usual composure completely gone. "yeah," he finally managed softly, "i think it definitely does."

a faint smile tugged at your lips again, softer and warmer this time, as you nudged your nose lightly against his one more time before pulling back. neither of you retreated far, just enough to comfortably settle into a new reality. your knee bumped gently against his, casual but deliberate, affectionate and unmistakably yours.

"obviously," you teased gently, a smile tugging openly at your lips now, warmth radiating from you.

tim felt something shift deep in his chest - peaceful, sure, and powerful. without hesitation, he nudged you back, the gentle push slightly firmer, enough to earn another soft, genuine laugh from you. your quiet acceptance, your simple confidence in this unspoken language of yours, filled tim with a quiet sense of wonder and happiness he'd rarely experienced in his life.

and just like that, with silent gestures and soft glances, you'd solidified everything you'd quietly built. with one gentle kiss, one careful touch, you'd transformed everything you shared from something quietly unspoken into something real, tangible, and beautifully undeniable.

neither of you needed to say another word, because from that moment onward, there was no question:

this was your language. this was your love.

this was simply you.

#dc comics #dc scenarios #batfam #batfam x reader #batboys #batboys x reader #dc imagine #dc x reader #tim drake drabbles #tim drake scenarios #tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake

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httpsserene · 2 years ago

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httpsserene’s F1 Kinktober ‘23

summary: you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. daniel is definitely taking yall somewhere—max and reader are just along for the ride 💀. i tried to write sub!max, i think it came across well, and ahead of time, i think i may have slayed (and if you think i changed the summary, stfu no i didn’t 😌) enjoy y'all !!!!

click here for f1 kinktober ‘23 table of contents.

overstimulation — 𝐝𝐫. 𝟑 & 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader 6.5k words. overstimulation. light dom/sub. quickies. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. unprotected sex (practice safe sex, pls). safewords. creampie. come eating. squirting. hand job. masturbation. dacryphilia. mention of nudes. praise kink. aftercare. set after the 2023 season. no beta we die like carlos’ fuel system.

this past racing season was long; daniel knows that well; he went from being the third driver at red bull, to having a seat at alphatauri, to breaking his wrist–and still managed to recover to drive in the last five races. max can also account for how lengthy this season was; he dominated every race illustrated by his 10 consecutive wins, won his team the constructor’s championship 16 races in, won his third world driver’s championship the following week through a sprint race, and still had to stick around for five more races. but, daniel and max both know who has the best firsthand account of how prolonged and draining the formula one 2023 season was.

you.

daniel knows that you’re they’re biggest supporter; you’re a sweetheart. and while you haven’t vocalized your displeasure for the twenty-three races this year–he can feel your dejection. at the start of the season, everything was seen through rose-colored glasses; max was winning, the three of you were having champagne-drenched celebrations in hotel rooms–so filthy the poor staff probably had to incinerate the sheets. you were satisfied; and daniel was with you whenever red bull didn’t want to parade him around at a grand prix. but as the months progressed and as daniel got a seat, the demanding nature of formula one was observable. the longer season had stolen them from you–they were flying from country to country, the gaps between races only long enough to only have them home for two or three days at a time, before they had to fly out and adjust to a new time zone. leaving your two boyfriends unable to make a mess of you as often as you all crave in doing so. phone sex is hot–but it can lose its luster over almost nine months. they’ve been neglecting you–even though every time either one of them suggests that notion, you disagree vehemently– but, it’s the truth.

they pride themselves on the fact that they used to make you beg for them to stop drawing orgasms out of you...but recently your sex life has consisted of dry-humping like horny teenagers, frantic pussy-eating and cock-sucking, and quickies in the shower. so, max and daniel formulated a plan.

after abu-dhabi, the three of you returned home to max’s monaco flat and fell into bed. you’re comfortably laying completely on top of daniel, front to front, and your head is tucked under his chin, turned to the side to face max, who’s settled on his side facing the two of you, arm draped over your back, with his hand squeezing at your waist randomly as he talks to daniel. you’re fighting sleep and losing; eyelids fluttering closed every now and then against your will, breath slowing as you edge closer and closer to sleep. you're floating on the brink of unconsciousness until you're dragged away at the soft sounds of daniel and max rousing you.

“there ya’ go, honey,” murmurs daniel, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath you, “we got somethin’ to ask you, before we let ya sleep, sweet girl.”

max’s hand shifts to rub at the length of your back, and you clear the sleepy haze from your mind enough to nod your head and hum softly in question, “m’kay.”

daniel gently pulls your head from his neck with his tattooed hand on your nape, making sure your pretty eyes, foggy with sleep, make eye contact, “how do ya’ feel about spending december in australia, hmm? a sunny christmas–on the ricciardo ranch; you, me, max and our families–ain’t that perfect, honey?”

max smiles softly at your pout–you’re never one to appreciate having your sleep interrupted–before adding on to daniel’s question, “jimmy and sassy can stay with the sitter; i already spoke to her a few days ago. she’d be thrilled to have them, so you don’t have to worry about where’d they stay. i don’t think i can get pet passports in three days nor do i want to see how two bengal cats act on a private jet for twenty hours.”

a few seconds pass, max and daniel searching your face for any hint to a possible answer. you blink a few times, before you murmur faintly, “‘m okay with it…can i go to sleep now?”

max laughs tenderly, guiding your head back into daniel’s neck before he scoots closer and rests his own head on the australian’s shoulder, “yeah, mijn schatje. sleep well.”

daniel wraps the arm pinned under max around him, pulling him closer to drop a kiss on his forehead. his other hand falls on your back over the dutchman’s, caressing it softly. he holds the two of you as tight as he possibly can, the big grin on his face only seen by the ceiling. he has his whole world in his arms right now, but come christmas time, his whole universe–his family–will be under the same roof back home in australia.

the next three days are filled with an absurd amount of packing. max and daniel have five suitcases between the two of them—you have five for yourself; it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. the night before your flight, they watch you pace around the bedroom making sure there’s nothing important you’re forgetting. jimmy and sassy had been dropped off at the sitter’s, and max and daniel had already moved all the luggage to the entryway for the early flight. the two drivers had stopped trying to convince you to join them in the bed and cuddled together, knowing it’s best to let you work out your anxieties now so you don’t overthink on the flight.

as you start combing through the closet again, max whispers to daniel, “we could fuck the nerves out her right now, danny.”

daniel smacks max’s hip, smirking when he whines quietly, “no, maxy. she has to sit for an almost twenty hour flight, we can’t make that any more difficult for her.” the dutchman huffs, unhappy with the answer even though he knows it's the logical course of action.

dan continues, “remember: as soon as we get to the ranch and settle in—we'll be alone for a week before my parents come ‘n join us. we’ll have plenty of time to take her apart and put her back together.”

daniel was wrong. after y’all landed in perth, and made the drive out to the countryside—it was apparent that the three of you weren’t the only ones at the ranch. his parents had come early to make sure the ranch was prepped and fully stocked for your vacation, and prepared a home cooked dinner to welcome you in. dan can’t help his big smile from becoming a permanent fixture on his face as he watches his mom and dad fawn over you and max. grace pulls you into the house, instructing the men to bring the luggage inside while she gets to fixing you a plate heaping with barbecue. joe affectionately calls max ‘son’ with a tight hug, congratulating him on his third championship before they all make their way into the house.

the original plan is put on the back burner as daniel watches you and max bloom under the loving attention from his parents. the days passed quickly, all of them spent horsing around the farm; horseback riding, dirt biking, atv riding, making a trip out to the beach, eating good food, and sleeping well. dan sees max’s pale skin pinkening and your melanated complexion glowing with warmth from the caress of the australian sun. your afternoon naps are taken underneath the warm rays, stretching out in any slice of sun you can catch, bathing in it like a cat. max and dan do as many things as they can shirtless attempting to get their tan in as quick as possible—dan tans gracefully, max, on the other hand, burns like a lobster first before his tan becomes apparent.

they fucked you on the second day after your arrival, but not exactly how they were hoping too. it’s still a relatively short affair—for their standards, at least. while it quieted the need within you, it didn’t completely satisfy the urge for any of you. daniel had to coax you into biting a pillow to muffle your squeals, and have max nearly choke on his tattooed fingers to quiet his whining—dan himself clenched his jaw so tightly to prevent his own moans from escaping that he’s surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. he loves his parents, but he’s genuinely going to snap if he doesn’t get to ruin you and max without worrying if they could hear how he makes you and max beg for him.

on the fifth day, you wear your first sundress to lunch and max pulls daniel in the kitchen to muffle a scream into his chest.

“dan, baby—i love your parents,” max starts, his eye twitching, “you know i do! but, i can’t go another day without hearing her scream for me—for us.”

they’re only men. very desperate men. and you had the nerve to parade yourself in this flowy, yellow, strapless sundress at a meal they have to suffer through. they can’t even tear it off of you after, because dan’s parents have a chance of overhearing. but, what forces the australian to kindly kick his parents out of the house, is how you fail to stop yourself from drooling over them playing around in the pool—struggling to continue speaking with his mom as you sit on the pool’s ledge.

before dinner, dan showers by himself first, changing into fresh clothes. he then ushers you and max into the shower, ‘to rinse off the chlorine and sweat from the day,’ he says. but, he could care less about that. as soon as he hears the shower start, he practically sprints to the kitchen to see his mom and dad put the finishing touches on the burgers they fixed up.

daniel skids to a stop in the doorway, leaning against it in faux-relaxedness, and says, “howdy.” it’s silent for a minute; his dad stares at him blankly, and his mom eventually breaks and speaks plainly, “what is it, danny?”

daniel gasps in mock-disbelief, “why d’ya always think i want something from you? i can’t just be greeting my wonderful, loving, and understanding parents?”

grace stares at him, not fooled, “are you just saying ‘hi’?”

daniel stutters aimlessly looking to his dad for help, but joe just shrugs at him in a ‘you did this to yourself, son’ manner.

“maybe! well, no, actually…” daniel sulks, slinking into the kitchen, and resting against the counter next to his mom.

his mom hums knowingly, and gestures at him to start speaking.

“uh, so, you know i love having y’all around, right, and uh, it’s nice y’know—i mean, i don’t see ya’ as often as i want to, but uh—don’t get me wrong, you’re my parents, but uhm—“

joe sighs, “daniel, cut to the chase, please.”

daniel groans, before he leans his head back to look at the ceiling, “fine. look—we just expected to at least have one week to ourselves when we got here. not that y’all being here to surprise us is bad! you know that. but, uhm…we just made plans, i guess. a-and we kind of can’t do it, because, well…”

grace washes her hands as daniel continues to ramble through an unnecessary apologetic explanation. she turns the water off, drying her hands on a towel, and turns to her husband, pointing at daniel while rolling her eyes teasingly, before she cuts her son off, “daniel, we can leave tonight.”

daniel stops, head dropping to look at his mom in shock, “what?”

“we can leave tonight, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. your father and i don’t mind,” grace smiles gently, “we weren’t supposed to stay for this long anyways, we were just trying to get the ranch prepared for y’all, and you know how enamored we are with your girl and boy; we overstayed our welcome. we can go and come back a week before christmas with the rest of the family, danny.”

daniel perks up, “you guys don’t have to leave for that long, i don’t wanna kick you out—“

“daniel, please,” joe scoffs, walking over to clap daniel on the back, “you’re not kicking us out. we’ll be back on the seventeenth, alright. hopefully, that gives y’all enough time to work out your frustrations. we really don’t want to overhear or see anything—“

daniel pales, “okAY, thank you, yes—please don’t comeback until as late as y’all want, jesus christ. wait—did you hear the other night?! ohmygod…they’re going to kill me.”

joe and grace laugh, “no, we didn’t hear anything, danny. we just figured from how they were following you around in the morning—max couldn’t even look us in the eye, son.”

daniel groans, embarrassed, “don’t tell them anything about this okay? they’ll break up with me if they know i asked you to leave so i could have sex with them.”

his parents' laughter only gets louder, but they agree eventually after they indulge in teasing their son a little more.

dinner is pleasant; you and max remain unaware of the ricciardo’s intervention, enjoying the well-cooked meal and lighthearted conversation. when everyone’s stomach is full and the conversation quiets, grace and joe break the news that they unfortunately have to return to perth. you and max sadden, trying to convince daniel’s parents to stay a little longer—max’s eyes fail to hide his eagerness at their announcement, even though his voice manages to be completely sincere. daniel watches as his parents formulate a fake excuse about their departute before he gently reminds you two, “they’ll be back for christmas, babes. you’ll see them again.”

the two of you calm at daniel’s statement, and walk his parents out to the car, exchanging hugs and kisses before they drive off back to the city. daniel leads you two back into the house after you’ve watched his parents disappear down the road, and the shift in energy as soon as the door locks is missed by you.

you mindlessly amble back to the dining table, stacking the emptied plates and glasses and wandering into the kitchen to clean them. as soon as you turn the sink faucet on, a strong body pushes against your back, and presses you against the edge of the counter as their hand reaches around you to shut the water off. you turn around to tell-off whichever boyfriend did that, but before you can get any words out, you’re pulled into a filthy kiss.

your shocked gasp is muffled by max’s lips, and you half-heartedly attempt to pull away, but the dutchman chases your lips, not allowing you to stop. you give in with a sigh, allowing max to continue kissing you. he buries one hand in your hair, tilting your head to the side for a better angle, and licks at the seam of your lips. you squirm against him, not quite giving into the coaxing of his tongue, and max hums softly before he tugs at your bottom lip. you turn your head to the side, panting softly to suck in a few desperate breaths before max pulls you back and invades the opening of your lips. you squeal at the feeling of his tongue laving against yours, the lewd wet sounds of your mouths have your thighs pressing together. max brings his other arm to grasp around your waist, and pulls you against him, groaning into your mouth at the smallest amount of friction that movement provided. you feel lightheaded, your knees weakening, but max firmly holds you up, not letting you slip from his grasp. your hands come up to wrap around him, one feeling up his chest before resting around his neck, and the other hand digging into the meat of his back in search of stability. he hums at the ache of your nails and drops both of his hands to cup the back of your thighs right under your ass. he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your legs and shoving his body between them, while still managing to not break the kiss. at the show of strength you arch your back, whining highly, pushing your chest against his—he’s so strong. he eagerly starts tugging the sundress up your legs, making to expose your panties before he’s interrupted by a sudden heavy hand on the back of his neck.

max jerks away from you (you can finally catch your breath), his chest heaving, and his own whine fills the air at the weight of daniel’s hand.

“now, darlin’,” daniel addresses max with a smirk, “this wasn’t part of our plan, was it? you forget the script, maxy?”

max blushes a pretty pink, and murmurs, “no, daniel—sorry, danny.” dan hums at the apology, pressing a kiss to max’s warm cheek.

“w-what plan?” you timidly ask, still sitting on the counter, legs spread obscenely, dress skewed messily, and lips swelling from max’s ambition.

daniel chuckles, eyes shining at you hungrily, “mmm. how ‘bout we make our way to the bedroom and ‘ll show ya, sweetheart?”

you’re spread eagle in the middle of the bed, completely naked, with daniel fully dressed in between your legs sucking marks and pressing kisses on your thighs, max stripped down to his boxer-briefs on his side next to you, doing the same to your neck and chest. you’re squirming viciously just from the feeling of his beard scraping against your inner thighs, squeals ripping from your throat when he leaves a hickey or bites at the meat of your thigh. the australian’s pupils are blown wide, as he watches you try and muffle your cries behind your hand—if this is how you’re responding to the two of them thoroughly refreshing their claim on you, he’s thrilled to see how you’ll lose your mind as the night goes on. pulling his head away, daniel presses his thumb into one of the bruises he left and your back arches deeply–you choke on your squeal, thighs slamming shut around his hand.

“none of that now, sweetheart,” dan instructs firmly, “‘s just me, you, and max, honey. no need to quiet those sweet sounds of yours, alright?”

you nod wildly, stumbling over your agreement, “y-yeah, danny. ‘ll be- i’ll be loud for you guys.”

max moans at your words from where his lips were tugging at your nipple, pulling away to raise himself back to your lips, thirstily tasting your desperation from its source. dan allows max to bruise up your mouth, and leave his own beard burn around your lips, as he undresses himself down to his briefs.

“max…max, maxy, babe,” daniel softly calls a few times, failing to get the impatient man’s attention, “max, look at me.” the switch from dan’s soft tone to a deeper, base filled sound has max snapping away to look at daniel, panting roughly.

“be good f’me and give yourself a hand, darlin’,” dan commands, and max sighs lovingly at the endearment, “you can manage that right, maxy? while i get our sweet girl ready to take you, hm?”

max whimpers, “yes, danny,” and shifts to sit upright, pulling his underwear off and wrapping his large hand around himself. dan purrs, “good boy. her sweet cunt’s already drippin’ for us, maxy. won't take me long to stretch ‘er open for you.” you keen, humiliated at the way dan speaks about you like you’re not in the room with them. daniel tugs your legs open again, hiding his laughter in the plush meat of your thigh, but you can feel the smirk against your skin.

embarrassed, you whine hushedly, hands fisting into the sheets by your side, “mean.”

daniel hums uncaringly at your remark, “mean? don’t worry, honey–when i finish with you, you’ll think ‘m mean for a very different reason.” he doesn’t give you a chance to ponder his words, and a firm drag of his tongue across your cunt destroys any chance for your thought processes. this time around, your moans are clear, echoing around the room. the press of daniel’s tongue is unforgiving and working intently at your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, not allowing the australian to escape even though he can feel your hips bucking away, trying to escape the consistent stimulation on one of your most sensitive spots. when one of your hands flies down to tug at his curls, he relents his assault and switches to prodding his tongue against your opening. he moans depravedly against your entrance, the noise vibrating through you, causing your shriek to pierce the air. he eats you out like a man starved; savagely shoving his tongue deeper inside you, curling against your walls, nose bumping against your clit, mouth moving like he’s truly trying to eat you alive. he ignores the ache of his jaw, the tightness of his briefs, how his beard scratches your skin; and he smoothly slips a finger into you, beginning thoroughly stretch you out.

it’s absolutely obscene-sounding. daniel works his way up to three fingers, and any previous qualms he had about you being too quiet are resolved. your whines are constant at the insistent invasion of daniel’s curling digits, and based on the way your legs are trembling, he can tell you're nearing the precipice. what’s even more erotic, is the way your cries harmonize with max’s own grunts of pleasure; the dutchman’s hips buck into the frantic pace of his hands and danny wouldn’t be surprised if max comes before he even gets inside you. daniel sits back on his heels, his fingers still digging deeper inside you, forcefully pressing against your g-spot. with his left hand, daniel knocks max’s hand away, ignoring the responding yowl of displeasure, and fists max’s cock on his own, “doin’ a little too much, maxy. our desperate girl deserves to come first, anyways—lemme set the pace for you, darlin’.” max suffers under danny’s ministrations; the extreme shift down in tempo, the constant attention on the head of his cock, a finger pressing at his slit or the vein along his underside alternatingly. you, on the other hand, are being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. daniel’s thumb joins, rubbing quick circles of your clit–and you scream out, pleasure overriding you. when your moans start to blend into breathy little ah-ah-ah’s, he slips his fingers free from the tight clasp of your cunt, and releases his hold on max’s cock.

you sob achingly, begging daniel to make you cum, dismayed cries of, “no! danny, why’d you stop, please, make me cum,” falling from your lips as max mewls next to you, his own hands trying to force danny’s back around him. daniel shushes you, and motions for max to come closer. max flies forward happily, his whines cutting off at daniel’s attention. he man-handles max into hovering over you in missionary, his cock resting against your fluttering cunt, waiting for permission. your cries quiet, and your heart races with anticipation for max to bury himself in you. danny’s left hand grips at max’s corresponding hip, and his right hand slips in the narrow space between you two, and he presses the flushed arousal in you. and the australian cannot stop running his mouth.

“that’s ‘t, baby–nice n’ easy for ya’–mmm–he’s splitting you open isn’t he–yeah, soak ‘im, babe, get him nice and wet–no, sweetheart, don’t run from it–yeahhh just like that, you take ‘t so well–”

your own orgasm suprises you, otherwise you would’ve at least made an attempt to tell the two men. max hasn’t even gotten halfway inside you and you’re cumming; back-arching, toes-curling, hands rushing forward to scratch down max’s back, eyes screwed shut, and walls clamping tightly around him. max is whining above you, flinching away from the hot grasp of your inner walls, but daniel won’t let him pull out.

“danny, danny! please–oh–i-i-i’m gonna–not gonna last–‘m gonna cum, if i stay inside her,” max admits, sobbing embarrasingly.

daniel laughs softly from behind max, and shifts so his front is pressed to the dutchman’s back. max shivers at the sound, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “aww, you can’t handle it, darling? don’t worry, i’ve changed my plans for you, anyways,” daniel smugly whispers into max’s ear. dan brings both of his hands to the younger’s waist, and forces him deeper inside of you, ignoring the way max cries sensitively and keeps pushing him forward until he bottoms out. you and max let out twin squeals from the white-hot flash of pleasure; you struggle to adjust to his size as quickly as daniel forced him in–you pulsate around him, it’s like you’re still trying to drag him further in and push him out at the same time. daniel presses a kiss to max’s shoulder blade and praises him, “see, maxy? i knew you could do it—such a good boy f’me.”

max’s eyes roll back, and he can’t fight it–he cums, loudly. his limbs weaken and his body collapses over yours, head falling into your neck, and his lewd moans vibrate through your raw skin. the younger’s body covers you completely, and your knees come up to cradle max’s hips, encouraging him to thrust through the aftershocks. daniel leans back, continuing to bathe the two of you with praise as he lets you guys shudder through the come down. a couple minutes pass before your legs relax and max’s moans die down to breathy hums, as both of your chests heave as you try to regulate your breathing.

“feelin’ good, my loves?” daniel questions tenderly.

you’re the first to respond, a sated smile sent the australians way, “so good, danny.” max sighs out a breathy “yeah,” muffled into your chest. daniel brightens, “alrighty–maxy, fuck her properly now, and make her cum again.” the dutchman grunts in disbelief, “what? no, i-i can’t, i just came–”

dan cuts max off, “you can’t or, you won’t?” max’s breath stutters at the sudden dominance in daniel’s tone, sitting up to turn his head to look at the older man incredulously. the smile on dan’s face is gone, his expression suddenly firm and unyielding–max can only drop his gaze away from daniel’s eyes, avoiding the piercing gaze.

“max, look at me,” the australian states unflinchingly, and the younger man’s eyes fly to meet his at the command.

“what’s your color, darlin’?”

with his tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously, max mutely whispers, “green.” daniel’s piercing gaze drops to you and he repeats the question, “sweetheart, what’s your color?”

you squirm under his intense attention—max’s hips stuttering at the stimulation, and your bruised brown thighs squeeze at his waist until he stops—but the slight flare of pleasure that races up your spine decides your answer, “green, danny.”

a smirk spreads across daniel’s lips, “see, you can, maxy,” the younger blushes deeply at his teasing croon, “now, be a sweet prince for me, and fuck our sweetheart, hm?” and with a pinch to max’s hip, he sinks in you deeply with an oversensitive sigh, before he pulls out and sets a slow rhythm to allow you both a little more time to recover. the drag of his cock is coaxing soft shuddery breaths out of your lips, and sharp over-sensitive whines from max. his hands are trembling from where they’re grip flexes on your waist, veins popping with the strength of his grasp, sure to leave a mark on your darker skin. dan’s hands halt the gentle roll of his hips, before the man leads him at a quicker pace. max throws his head back onto daniel’s shoulder, overwhelmed at the feeling of your tight, soaking wet cunt, and cries out “too much—ngh—i-it’s too much!” but aside from all of his whines, he’s getting hard again. unlike max, the sensitivity from your orgasm had faded quickly—if anything, it’s doubling the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. desperate for more, you plant your feet on the bed and start rolling your hips to meet max halfway; moaning yearningly at the change in position.

the younger man frantically tries to force your hips back down, the friction added from you meeting his thrusts is too great. “heyheyhey—none of that, prince,” daniel quickly tugs max’s hands away from your waist, one hand firmly holding them against the younger’s chest, “remember, we made a promise to give her so many orgasms to make up for how mean we’ve been to her. you don’t want to break that promise; right, darling?” max tries to hide his face in dan’s shoulder, but it’s too late—he starts sobbing. daniel watches how the tears rain down max’s cheeks, and how his face crumples so prettily—is it weird that making his usually unbothered boyfriend cry, turns him on?

max sniffles, “n-no, danny. -ll do it, i-i wanna make her cum.” not wanting to disappoint you any further, he starts quickening his strokes on his own, eventually outpacing the rhythm daniel set for him. it dawns on max quickly; he’s not going to last, again. he makes the mistake of looking at the blissed out expression on your face, the knot in his tummy tightening as he watches how your mouth falls open in a moan, wet and inviting. he drops his eyes away, but they fall on where the two of you are connected; the sight causes him to choke on his breath. his own thrusts have forced his cum out of you, frothing at your entrance, smeared all over your labia and staining your inner thighs. if he could eat you out and fuck you at the same time—he’d be doing it. max urgently asks daniel, “d-danny, ‘m gonna cum—please, can i cum?” ignoring max, dan’s hand lets go of max’s, and falls to let his middle and ring finger rub vigorously at your clit. your body jackknifes, a scream leaving your lips at the sudden addition, you choke out a warning, “g’na cum! pleasepleaseplease—” and when daniel’s thumb sneaks down to press gently at where you're wrapped snugly around max, almost like he’s trying to slip in alongside his cock—white flashes behind your eyes and you’re cumming hard.

daniel hums, satisfied, “now, you can cum, maxy.” the younger had already started coming the second he started speaking. it’s erotic—how the two of yours’ orgasm feeds off of each other. every clench of your cunt has you squeezing tightly around max, causing him to thrust in you deeper, which in turn has you pulsating around him tightly, and the cycle continues. max rides out the two of your orgasms viciously this time around, his hips slamming into you, forcing himself as deep as possible wanting to empty every last dreg of his cum within you. you can only whimper brokenly, not making an effort to calm his grinds, wanting to savor anything you can get before he pulls out of you. with max’s last pump of his hips in you, daniel slowly guides him out of you. the two of you hiss, extremely over sensitive from the two times you’ve cum, so daniel tries to make the affair as smooth as he possibly can. with a squelching pop, max is freed from the tight grasp of your cunt, and dan leads him to lie down next to you on the bed.

you’re still floating, not a single thought in your head, a deep sense of satisfaction coating your mind, but you can vaguely hear daniel checking on max, making sure he didn’t push him too far. you hum quietly under your breath, almost like a purr, eyes shut blissfully as you allow yourself to relax in your afterglow. you faintly register daniel slipping in between your legs, his broad shoulders pressed against the underside of your thighs. you feel his left hand gently press at the raw skin of your thigh, and you fuzzily manage to move it over for him, thinking that he’s trying to clean you up.

daniel can only stare. the pink skin of your hole has turned to a deeper red, with how max bullied your cunt. his mouth falls open, entranced, at the sight of your bruised pussy winking at him, struggling to close, and he moans softly as the pulsing of your cunt starts pushing max’s cum out of you. the creamy, frothy, white fluid slowly sliding out of you and down your ass. his tongue wets his lips—he wants a taste. dan drops the towel he was holding in his right hand, and brings the now empty hand up to spread your lips with a ‘v’ of his fingers. his eyes flick up to your face, and once he sees that you're still floating, he takes a gentle pass over your entrance with two fingers, collecting yours and max’s combined release. he sucks the mess clean, and a groan rumbles through his chest. fuck—he needs more. daniel quickly finds himself breathing softly over your cunt for the second time tonight, and he can feel how your thighs already start shaking at the exhales of his breath against you. he laps his tongue once in a broad stripe over you, and moans depravedly—and then, he pretty much forced to eat you out; why let this go to waste.

the minute his tongue slips inside you, your thighs slam shut around his head, trying to halt his overeager movements. daniel doesn’t care, he’d happily suffocate in your cunt if it meant he got to eat max’s cum out of you for the last time. when he slips two of his fingers in to coax more of the cum max fucked deep in you out, your hand flies down and tugs at his curls. daniel pulls his mouth away, growling sharply at the pain from the grip of your hand, but he steadfastly dives back in—he’s going to swallow every last drop you’ll give him. “hngh—too much, –anny, can’t take it—my tummy feels weird—it hurts!” daniel’s hips starting grinding against the bed, and he’s made aware of how painfully hard he’s gotten throughout the night; he hasn’t cum once. daniel moans against your cunt, panting against you, “ya got one more f’me right, sweetheart? yeah, ya do—just let me taste you, yeah?” daniel tunes out your cries again, and brushes his nose against your clit as he laves his tongue over you picking up every drop of cum the two of you have spilled on your swollen cunt. his fingers start to curl upwards as he pulls them out, dragging wetness out from the depths of your walls, and you squeal, any pleads that you planned to say have been suddenly erased from your throat at the sudden pain-pleasure that bursts behind your eyes. your core tightens, and you seize against the bed cumming for the third time this night at daniel’s insistence. this is the most intense orgasm all night, and it feels never ending; all of your senses feel like they’re burning hot, nerves tingling from your scalp to your curled toes. what you’ve failed to recognize is that you're gushing all over daniel’s face. he practically gets waterboarded from where he was pressed against your cunt, but once he realizes that he’s made you squirt, he happily starts drinking down each spray of your fluid, uncaring of how his beard is drenched with your release, and how it puddles underneath your ass.

he swallows you down to the very last drop, plump lips massaging your labia sweetly. he backs off your pussy, switching to your thighs to collect any wetness he missed out on. when your hand tugs at his curls again, pulling him away when the beard burn gets too much, daniel rises to his knees over you. he tugs his cock out of his briefs, the tip flushed the deepest red he’s ever seen it, and it throbs hotly in his grasp. he uses the hand soaked with your squirt to roughly rub himself off, tattooed thigh spasming, and it takes less than ten pumps of his hand before he’s cumming. with every spray of his hot cum that lands against your swollen cunt, your hips jerk—even that feels too much.

when daniel finishes, he moans at the picture he painted on you—would you let him take a picture if he asked? but his fantasy is disrupted when you squirm up the bed, your hand falling to cup protectively over your cunt, thighs tightening around your hand, and you murmur repeatedly, “no more, no more.” max coos quietly from where he’s laying, still just as fucked out as you, but he tries to soothe your cries. he sweetly pulls you into his chest when tears slip out of your eyes, petting at you clumsily, not quite yet having regained complete control of his limbs. “did so good, schatje. daniel did just like he promised—i-if, if you let him clean you up, we can cuddle and go straight to bed, ok? be good, j-just a little longer.”

you sob messily into max’s embrace, but after a few minutes with max and daniel both reassuring you that they’ve finished pulling orgasms out of you, and comfortingly massaging the already setting soreness of your muscles—your cries die down to sniffles, and you slowly spread your legs open for danny. daniel stares at the mess he created this time around, but dismisses the urge to lick it off you; his only goal right now is to properly clean you up, and make sure you go to sleep feeling satisfied and worn-out. as gently as possible, he takes turns wiping both your thighs and cunt, and max’s thighs and cock, switching when either of you says it’s too much. it takes longer than it usually does, but it doesn’t upset daniel as long as it means the two of you are comfortable.

“okay, okay,” daniel soothes sweetly, “i’m done. you both did so good for me tonight.”

max blushes at the praise, and with a voice as airy as silk, you whisper, “you ‘ere good too, danny—made me feel r’lly good, thank you.” daniel smiles, his heart warming at your sweet words, “thank you, honey. you’re always so sweet to me.”

“now, let’s move this party to the bathroom so both of you can pee, and take a bath before we sleep, i’ll get some snacks for you to eat too,” daniel orders softly, “i took a lot from the two of you tonight—so let me make sure i put you back together, okay?

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weasleyreidstyles · 1 year ago

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Serendipity

chapter four

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fainting, hospitals, talk of dark magic and curses

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Mattheo guided you to an empty carriage with his palm gently grazing the small of your back. If you were in your right state of mind, you'd shove his hand away. Probably.

But at that moment, he was the only person holding you upright. You had no idea what was wrong with you, what this overwhelming feeling was.

It's just the adrenaline, tesoro. It'll pass. Theo had barely spoken to you since school started, not including the few nights you'd been on patrol with him late at night or in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration. Everytime you interacted with Mattheo he seemed to become agitated, as though it wasn't his idea to have his best friend teach you control.

You sat in the far corner of the carriage silently as they deliberated what to do about the necklace that was floating between you all, and for some reason you felt an odd tingling, cold sensation wash over you as it came closer to you.

"Should we take it to Snape? Or straight to Dumbledore?" Zabini asked as he used his wand to rotate the antique, looking at it with distaste. Theo and Mattheo seemed to debate this as Enzo nodded in agreement immediately.

"No we take it to Madame Pomfrey." Pansy injects. "She's going to need to see what cursed Katie. So she knows how to heal her."

"She could've died." you say quietly into the warmth of your scarf. They all turn to stare at you. "The necklace is famously doused with a death curse. Over a few dozen muggles supposedly died instantly when they touched it with their bare hands. Had she not had her gloves on, she would have died."

They look stricken, as if this had not occurred to them at all. The air in the carriage went frigid, suddenly. And not because of the chill.

"All the more reason to get it to Dumbledore." Zabini insists, but you vehemently disagreed.

"No, Pans is right. Madame Pomfrey needs to see the necklace. I doubt she'll be able to treat Katie here, Hogwarts won't have the necessary resources for this sort of thing."

Zabini seemed to think on this and in the end you all agreed; when you reached the Hospital Wing where Katie Bell was writhing helplessly in a bed, you all but collapsed into Mattheo's awaiting arms.

~∞~

You've discovered that fainting is an odd sensation. One moment you felt fine, fine enough to function normally at least, then the next minute everything is a hazy void of nothing.

You wake up in a bed in the hospital wing, Hermione next to you, reading a muggle novel with a furrowed brow. She jolts up when she sees that you're conscious.

"You're awake. I'll get Madame Pomfrey, hold on." And she's off down the aisle of warded beds, back seconds later with the matron in tow.

Madame Pomfrey fusses over you for a moment, asking you all the generic questions, that you answer only with half-truths, before leaving you alone with Hermione once again when you answered sufficiently enough.

"How do you really feel?" your best friend asked, her face full of worry. "Harry and Ron wanted to be here, Ginny too, but they have Quidditch practice."

"I feel like I got hit over the head with a hammer." you say, your voice rough and hoarse. "What even happened? The last thing I remember is walking into the Hospital Wing."

"Nott said you passed out when you came to hand the necklace in. Riddle got you settled into bed and let Madame Pomfrey do her work. But she hasn't said what is implicitly wrong with you." she explained and you stared up at her incredulously.

"But I only fainted? It's not that serious, is it?" your anxiety spikes and, not intentionally, you blocked out Hermione's voice in order to get some answers.

I hear helped me into bed? I could've sworn you don't have a nice bone in your body, guess I was wrong.

You're awake. He sounds surprised...relieved.

Obviously or I wouldn't be communicating with you right now, would I?

Funny. His voice is filled with mirth at your sarcastic response. How do you feel, sweetheart?

Do you want the lie I told so that I could leave the Hospital Wing quicker, or the real answer?

I'd hope that all the time we've spent in each other's presence would warrant the truth, Meadow.

I feel like shit, Mattheo. I don't even know what caused it, I felt fine when we were in the carriage.

Did you? He doesn't believe you.

I mean– I think so, I– My arm doesn't hurt as much. Do you think that has something to do with it?

Maybe. Is Granger still with you?

Yes, why?

No reason.

Mattheo?

He doesn't give you a response.

Hermione is snapping her fingers in your face and calling your name as if she'd been doing it for a hot minute.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, concern written all over your face.

"You know, I feel a little fatigued, I might try and sleep it off." you feel like the worst person in the world for lying to your best friend, but you want answers, and Mattheo seemed like the only person who would be brutally honest with you.

"Alright. I'll come back tomorrow with the others if you're still here after lessons are over." she smiles at you and guilt eats away at your chest.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mione." She squeezes your hand affectionately before she stands up and leaves you alone.

~∞~

Half an hour later it's not Mattheo who comes to visit like you secretly hoped for (but you were denying this to yourself vehemently). Instead Professor Dumbledore walks into the Wing with his usual grace and grandure.

"Good evening, Miss Meadows." he says cheerily as he stands before you bed. "May I sit?"

Bewildered, you nod your head silently.

"There's no need for the confusion," he says, clearly using Occlimency on you. "I see you have a good grasp on your mind. When did you learn to do this?"

"I like to learn new things." you say, brows furrowing at him as he gets comfortable in the plush seat beside your bed. He hums at your answer, rubbing his chin with the fingers of his good hand.

"I believe you experienced something rather....odd this afternoon." he began, his usually twinkling eyes holding an emotion that you could not place. "Can you describe it to me?"

"Um...I guess it started when we got closer to Katie and Leanne-" you start before cutting yourself off. "Actually, how is she? Katie? What happened to her?"

Dumbledore sighs as he answers.

"She was taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. They have far better equipped staff for dealing with dark curses. Poppy does not do that sort of healing."

"But she'll be okay?" you ask.

"She'll live, miraculously." he says before he focuses on you again. "Now back to you, Miss Meadow."

"Right. We were walking down the lanes, behind them and then I think they had stopped walking while they were arguing and it felt like an eery shift in the air. I don't know how else to describe it but then Katie touched the necklace and went up into the air. When she started screaming that's when Matt– Riddle– that's when Riddle and his friends turned up behind us. Enzo and Blaise went to find Hagrid and Ron, Theo and Riddle helped pull her down. I tried to help but when I touched her, my arm started to burn." you can fell the sting like a phantom now that you think about the pain.

"Interesting." he says as he pulls an old signet ring from his deep robe pocket, holding it out for you to take. "Can you tell me what you feel when you touch this, please?"

You do as he says and take the ring into your hands. Twisting it around your fingers, allowing your magic begins to swirl around it before it burns your fingers. You drop it in an instant. That same cold, tingling feeling you felt when Blaise rotated the necklace washed over you right afterward.

"It's cursed?" you asked, looking up at the Headmaster for confirmation, who is staring at you with knowing, inquisitive eyes.

"Something like that, yes." he says, his decaying hand twitches in response.

"Is that why your hand is like...that?" you ask, motioning to the appendage.

"Yes, rather nasty isn't it?" he says, tucking his hand away from your prying eyes. "I'm not sure what it is cursed by, but that is why I have asked Harry to befriend Professor Slughorn. I believe it has something to do with Lord Voldemort and Horis is the key to everything.

He ignores the way you instinctively flinch at the name. But thats when you notice that the ring that is still on your bed, holds the Riddle insignia. Mattheo's family crest.

"Sir, what's wrong with me?" you croak, as you turn the ring in your hands once again, letting your magic wash over it and dropping it into your lap when it zaps you with another stinging burn.

Professor Dumbledore removes the ring from your possession as he answers carefully.

"You're an incredibly smart witch, Miss Meadows." he states. "Professor Snape tells me of your incredible non-verbal abilities, and am I correct in assuming that you are also talented with wandless magic?"

You flush at this. "Yes sir."

"It is no surpise to me that your magic picks up on things that other witches and wizards may not." he says, tilting his head at you. "I believe you would make a good Unspeakable in the future, my dear. Or perhaps a curse breaker."

"What?" you ask, completely muddled by how cryptic he seemed to become. "Why do you say that? Shouldn't I be worried that I can somehow detect dark magic?"

"On the contrary...I believe it will be the most important skill you learn in this life."

With that note, he stands and with a simple goodbye leaves you lying alone in the bed with a thousand thoughts running through your head.

None of them bringing you any closer to a solid answer to the biggest questions you have:

Why the hell can you sense dark magic? Why did it cause your skin to burn? Why did it cause you to lose your grasp on consciousness?

~∞~

aaand the plot thickens...🤭🤭🤭

this was quite short but there will be more mattheo and meadow moments to come in the next one i promise xxx

comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter #albus dumbledore #serendipity series

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rubra-wav · 1 year ago

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[ Entry #9 ] Various Vox headcanons

A/N I've got a post coming up about what I think it'd be like to actually date him coming up, (alongside Snap part 2 ofc, I'm just taking my time w it to try keep things accurate) so here's some points which will lead into that next post + other misc stuff I've been thinking abt.

Cw: SFW above cut, NSFW below cut - 18+ MDNI, reference to manipulative behaviours

SFW

- While drunk, he's both very affectionate and cute but also gets really sad and clingy. If you stop paying attention to him for even a second while he's gonna start bawling like a giant baby. It's also the only time he's truly 100% honest with how he feels about you.

Basically; the mask falls right off, so he doesn't like to get drunk around people. He will deny all that's been said or done during this.

- He doesn't need to sleep but likes to - when he sleeps tho he doesn't really sleep in the traditional sense but instead goes into a preset 'sleep mode' for a specific set of time. He can also be rebooted remotely if you need him up before he's programmed to wake up again. (I discuss more abt this type stuff in entry #4)

- Follow up point: when he dreams while in sleep mode, his dreams play on his screen. He often dreams about becoming essentially king of hell and having people worship him like a god.

If you bring this up, he will be embarrassed as all fucking hell and will also deny it vehemently.

- He ends up getting water damage fairly often because he really loves swimming and aquatic environments ironically.

He's of course got ways of waterproofing himself properly, but usually he will do it badly or just not give a fuck about it and go swimming impulsively.

Will complain like a bitch after getting water damaged as well, holy shit. Blames everything but himself about it.

- Follow up: if you ever take this man to an aquarium on a date, he's going to be so fucking excited about everything he's seeing.

He will be trying to contain himself, but he may end up letting the mask of calmness slip at points and just start randomly talking a million miles an hour about whatever shark, fish, sea creature, etc. He's seeing. He loves sharks so much.

- Somewhat follow-up point: If you 1. don't tell him to shut up about shit when he starts getting excited and talking really fast and loudly AND 2. Actually listen?

He's gonna be so goddamn happy. Holy shit.

He's used to being told to shut up when he starts talking about ideas he has for a new VoxTek project, so if you give him feedback and your thoughts on it once he's done info dumping? He's gonna start internally screaming because he's so happy about it.

- Follow up follow-up: He doesn't take criticism well though. In fact, he's a baby. If you're in a relationship and you've gotten him out of his bs a bit with his ego being fragile as shit about everything, it'll be better but still pretty bad.

He needs reassurance that just because you disagree or think (y) would be a better alternative than what's his (x), that you still think it's a good idea, lmao.

- If you wear blue light glasses he can't hypnotise you, and he absolutely fucking hates it. In an argument or confronting him, you just put on bluelight glasses and cross your arms, and he's so annoyed about it.

You'd need to start wearing blue light glasses, because this asshole will be trying to hypnotise you into forgetting things if you see something of him that he deems 'undesirable' about himself for you to see.

- He's such a colossal attention whore that the second you are doing something thats not to do with him or talking to someone who isn't him, he's gonna be pissy asf about it.

Think glaring at you while pouting and loudly tapping his foot. He's such a little shit 💀

- He's so intensely touch starved it's not even funny. If you're doing anything his hands are gonna be on your hip, your back or your shoulders.

He desperately wants to be physically close to you but he also will never normally instigate cuddle sessions because he thinks it's embarrassing that he wants them so badly. If you instigate them, he will absolutely love it.

Just not in public, though. If you try to be super affectionate or maybe even affectionate with him at all publicly, he'll be pushing you away telling you to wait until later.

And will get mad if you try get a bit defensive about it with him.

NSFW

- He has barely any self-control and ends up getting unintentionally excited really easily - even in situations where he really shouldn't be. If you as his partner are cuddling him, sitting in his lap, touching his neck, or god forbid the ports, he's gonna get hard so quickly it's not even funny.

Him being touch starved is really a double-edged sword because he wants to be near you, but also he gets unintentionally way too physically excited about it and ends up embarrassed asf most of the time.

- Kinda follow up point: I feel as if he's extremely repressed sexually in general. He works extremely long hours to maintain his control over everything single day, and considering his tendency to start zapping things when he gets closer to finishing / overwhelmed, he'd likely not be taking any chances at all with that.

So when he gets physically near his partner alone (and also not even alone), his body just kinda goes 'time to make up for lost time'. 💀

- Most sensitive erogenous zones on him (outside of his dick obviously) are his neck and ports. I'm not sure if him having ports for nipples is canon or not, but if it still is, those are the more sensitive ones. The ones on the back of his head are still an absolute killer, though.

If you kiss his neck even softly, he'll be tensing up, and if you're kissing him or cuddling him and gently brush up against the ports on the back of his head, or your chest brushes against his and brings him nipple stimulation - he's gonna be getting a boner as quick as it gets.

- He doesn't really care too much about his partner's height, but I get the vibe that he'd have a size difference thing and would love a partner who's smaller than him (but not tiny still)

It would trip his ego so much to be able to physically look down on people in general, but with a partner? He'd be going mildly insane about it but in a different way.

Wear his clothes, and they're massive on you? He's gonna be turned on as absolute hell by that. Especially if it's one of his button ups and its neckline is plunging and giving him an eyeful of your chest.

He can easily pick you up and pull you against him in whatever way? Goes absolutely nuts about it.

I love it when I try to go,'this will only be short', then my brainrot takes hold, and my ideas just keep flowing. 💀

Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox smut #i got multiple things im doing for other stuff but this is what came out first lmao #art takes a lot longer for me to get through

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aguineapigcouldntdothis · 1 year ago

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goyim who say that "antizionism is not antisemitic", or believes all jews have to be vehemently antizionist, are absolutely antisemitic. I'm talking about the original, true definition of zionism (the jewish right to self determination) and not political/revisionist zionism used by the israeli government. i hate what the israeli government has turned zionism into and even though revisionist zionism is technically a real form of zionism i think it makes a joke out of the other branches bc it throws a lot of core ideals out of the window. zionism is about building a safe place for jews in eretz israel, not trying to conquer as much shit as possible.

if a goy thinks jews have to antizionist then that alienates a huge part of the community. most jews i know are zionists to varying degrees. we believe we have a right to our ancestral homeland, and that we are allowed to connect to the history we have in israel regardless of where we live. I may be wrong about most jews being zionists! I'm sephardic and i interact mostly with other sephardim and some mizrahim. However, most jews are ashkenazim and im not close enough with any of them to know their opinions on zionism or im not aware that they are ashkenazi.

goyim cannot be against a sizable chunk of the jewish population without being antisemitic. it sounds ridiculous to say "i support this group but only if they disagree with that core belief that many of them have!" in order to talk about jewish people from an outside perspective then goys need to learn what defines us.

there's also two main options when a goy believes jews must be antizionist. they either know the true definition of zionism or they have no fucking clue what it actually is (yet still think they do). in the first case, theyre clearly against an important belief of jewish ppl, which as I said before, is antisemitic. in the second one, they are speaking for the jewish community without learning our history, which is also antisemitic. you cannot make decisions for a community you are not part of ESPECIALLY if you dont know shit about them.

it is very, very important that goyim learn about the jews before saying shit about us. expecting us to be against our right to self determination is complete fuckery. believing that we all have to agree on a complex topic is laughable. debate and arguments are a crucial part of our lives, and goyim should not attempt to take that away from us. we can't fuckin agree on what to flavor our rice with sometimes, much less an issue as complex as zionism. even though a lot of jews are zionists we still have our own unique opinions that may differ greatly from other zionists. we also recognize that antizionist jews are valid and they tend to feel the same about us.

zionism is simply our right to self determination and our right to be connected to israel, whether its an emotional connection or we actually live there. i also firmly believe in everyone's right to self determination, including palestine. i don't think that jews are the only ones who deserve that right. all groups that have been displaced or are currently being displaced are allowed to connect to their homeland however they wish. it doesn't matter if the displacement was yesterday or a thousand years ago.

if you're jewish id love to hear your opinion on this. if you're a goy, please sit back and listen. it is not your place to decide how jews should interpret our own history.

#jumblr #jewish

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trashpandato · 2 years ago

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Art

Kara is a doodler.

Anytime she has a pen or pencil in her hand, she doodles. Initially, it started off as a way for Kara to find a credible explanation for when she was drawing Kryptonian symbols on the edges of her school work in high school.

“Kara likes to doodle,” Jeremiah explained to her teacher who had pointed it out during a parent-teacher meeting.

Kara had to ask Jeremiah what doodling meant, and then vehemently disagreed with him that that is what she was doing. But then Jeremiah reminded her, again, that she could never let anyone know that she wasn’t human and really shouldn’t be writing Kryptonian words on anything that could be seen in public.

From that moment on, Kara learned to stay away from words and began to try and capture her memories of Krypton as images. She still doddled, as Jeremiah called it, because all anyone not familiar with Kara’s background would see on the page were circles (not Krypton’s moons) or abstract shapes (not the skyline of buildings Kara remembered seeing from her bedroom window).

Over time, Kara’s doodles became less about Krypton and more about things she had seen on Earth. Cat Grant famously asked her about a scribble of a cat in a tree that showed up on the upper left edge of a printed press release Kara had handed to her. Kara stammered her way through an apology and explained that she had rescued a cat during her lunch break and the image must have stuck in her head somehow.

Most of the time, Kara’s doodles are about food, though.

She draws little pizzas, dumplings still in their steamer baskets, croissants that make a decorative edge around the notes from her latest interview. It’s mindless fun and keeps her hands entertained when she’s bored or needs some release valve for her extra energy.

“It’s almost Freudian with you” Alex joked once when she found a small ink pen drawing of a box of donuts on a few notes Kara made while listening to a briefing at the DEO.

“I told you not to schedule the briefing over lunch,” Kara shot back and then immediately launched herself into the skies in search of her favourite donuts in National City.

And then she meets Lena, and it doesn’t take long for Kara’s doodles to include little chess pieces, loops that remind her of the earrings Lena wore that day, sharp lines that look a lot like a certain building with a large L on its facade.

It’s years into their friendship when Lena finally asks her about it.

Kara is sitting at her kitchen island, lost in thought. She’s spent the last few days frantically trying to help organize Alex and Kelly’s wedding. She’s exhausted, and Lena has offered to make them some tea to help Kara relax when she turns around and asks.

“What’s that?”

Kara frowns but looks up at Lena then.

“What’s what?”

“You’re, I don’t know, scribbling something. Or drawing. I’m not sure because it almost didn’t look like you were even paying attention to what your hand was doing.”

“Oh,” Kara feels a little like Lena caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. “It’s nothing. Just a doodle.”

Kara wants to cover up the paper in front of her but Lena is already there, craning her neck to see the small image that has appeared on the edge of Kara’s to-do list for the wedding.

It’s a small portrait of Lena. Next to a larger doodled heart.

It’s not subtle, but then again, none of Kara’s doodles ever are. It’s just that usually no one else sees them. But when Lena does see this one, she freezes. For a brief moment, Kara wishes a portal would open up in her kitchen so she could disappear rather than have to explain. But then, Lena turns to face her, eyes wide but oh so full of hope and Kara knows this is it, the final step for them.

Years later, Sam finds the framed doodle in Lena’s and Kara’s apartment, hanging just to the side of several photos they’ve taken over the years of their friends and family. Sam turns to Kara and smirks.

“This is high art. You should feature it more prominently.”

Kara smacks Sam’s arm but can’t help the broad smile overtaking her features.

“I’m sure if I move the Kandinsky to hang this one up by the fireplace instead, Lena is going to divorce me.”

Sam laughs but then says: “Lena loves you so much, she would let you doodle on that Kandinsky.”

And Kara isn’t so sure about that. It’s an original, after all. But she is sure that Lena loves her, so she just nods and pulls Sam back into the living room to re-join their friends.

Kara does draw a small portrait of Lena on the side of her Yahtzee score sheet later, though.

#supercorp #kara x lena #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober

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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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Request; Guilliman's partner comforting him? He is so sad in 40k, and has so much on his plate. The Lord Regent needs cuddles when he has a break!

Author's Note: #LetRollarcoasterGhilliesuitRest. I'm having fun writing all these cute requests while I work on some Konrad stuff >:3

Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None apart from Cato Sicarius being an stick in the mud because that's just who he is ✨ he just born that way ✨

Word Count: 932

Guilliman's chambers remain unchanged from when he had last entered them, a massive room adorned with the symbols of his legion. It is all ornate, golden, tapestries hanging and filigree tracing the edges. It's all decorative, indulgent. But none of it is his; The room feels nothing but sterile, to him. There isn't a single remnant of his life, only his legacy.

"You look tired."

You sit small on his massive bed, Guilliman's gaze having turned to you upon hearing your voice. It's quiet in the massive room, nearly drowned out by the high ceiling.

He is tired. Incredibly so. Perhaps mentally more than physically. Though the sight of you serves to act like some sort of drug to give him a boost, abit only temporarily.

He works tirelessly, endlessly, with no goal or end in sight. The Imperium is no less rotten, galaxy no less plagued since he'd last looked. You serve to be a small candle for him, a hope for a future, but a candle can't light a cavern. But still, he hates to imagine his life without you now.

Though Chapter Master Marneus Calgar and the Commanders of the Legion had not taken well to it. To you. It seems their Primarch having wants and desires beyond his supposed godhood is upsetting. They seem to almost speak of it, of you, as if it's an illness- being in love. Wanting a life beyond war.

Gulliman still remembers Cato Sicarius' attempt to discipline you for referring to him as Roboute so casually, spitting venom at your supposed disrespect.

The holotable shined against blue painted armor and skin, sickly green blending with blue and gold. Guilliman had been expecting a moment alone with you, to voice his thoughts, though it has quickly seemed to have turned into a meeting of sorts. You moved to take your leave, as you know well you were unwelcome in the Ultramarine chapter's private dialogues. Guilliman doesn't disagree that you shouldn't overhear, but his chapter takes it much more seriously. Vehemently so.

You look up at him, holding your hands close to yourself.

"I'll be in the Librarium, Roboute-"

Cato Sicarius turned his gaze to you, searing even through his helmet. His stance across the holotable was firm and unmovable, one hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He is ever the epitome of Ultramarine valor.

"You will speak of Our Lord Guilliman with the proper respect-"

Guilliman turned to the Ultramarine, who's zealotry has been wearing on him like waves against a ragged shoreline. To him he can begrudgingly deal with it, but he will not let him trample you.

"She can refer to me however she wishes," Guilliman said, his armor making noise as he resisted balling his hands into fists. "Do not speak for me again."

The Primarch had shut the Astarte down within moments. But the burn still remains. Their overwhelming zeal has proven irritating, but in that moment it finally turned him to anger.

They treat him like a god, speak of him as such; You are the only one who still treats him like a man. Perhaps he might be far removed, but he is still human, underneath his overwhelming size and power. At least he feels he is. Sometimes he isn't quite sure anymore.

"Perhaps I am. Sleep is rare for us all." He finally responds to your comment, neither disagreeing or agreeing fully. Despite it, you look up at him with this soft, caring face- It reminds him of Euten. You gently pat the bed.

"Can you come here?"

The Primarch listens, coming closer. He gently sits on the bed to avoid jostling you, watching the way you curl your hand to gesture him closer. He furrows his brow.

"What do you have in mind?" Guilliman watches you intently, trying to read you and figure it all out. You just give him that same sweet look.

"Just come closer. Lay down." When he doesn't move, you sigh.

"Please?"

Then does the Primarch finally give in, laying back; Feeling your hands as you adjust until the back of his head lays across your thighs. Your hands brush through his hair, and Guilliman swears for a moment he could die right here and be satisfied. With such a simple gesture, you've healed him just a bit from the horrors gnawing at him.

His eyes are hooded, not quite closed as he looks off. He looks deep in thought, or tired. More than likely both.

"You have the time to sleep, if you want." If he returned here, it could only mean he finally had managed to obtain a moment to himself. He's looking away from you when he responds.

"I don't wish to weigh you down for so long." Your hand brushes across his cheek for a moment, brushing a chunk of short blonde hair behind his ear.

"I know you Roboute; You won't be asleep for that long."

The sentence makes him let out a dry laugh. You had him down to a science within months; His Legion barely knows him, and they worship him.

His hand reaches up to gently cup your face, and it swallows so much of it. You lean into his palm none the less. You put your hand on his own for a moment, before returning it to his head.

"Take a moment to yourself, Roboute. You've fought for everyone else for so long. The galaxy can spare you a minute."

He doesn't remember anything else, after. Just the soft look in your eyes and the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

#roboute guilliman x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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aforestescape · 11 months ago

Text

konig - unplanned pregnancy

…just because i got my birth control removed and i’m in the mood for it

content includes: unexpected pregnancy, afab!reader, gn!reader, pervert!konig, fat!konig supremacy, mentions of co-erced pregnancy, descriptions of sex

you and konig at this point have spent a few months being friends with benefits. it was entirely your choice not to cross any boundaries past that. a decision that konig vehemently disagreed with but he kept it to himself. now wasn’t the time to pressure you into dating. he could enjoy your days hanging out or studying together. the texts in the middle of lecture to meet at your dorm for a quickie between classes.

no matter your conversations on relationships and you being steadfast in not wanting to date, konig knows that you’re his. maybe it’s a bit malicious, the joy that goes through him as you sit on his bed in tears. head in your hands as you try to speak past the need to sob at your predicament.

you should’ve known. should’ve been more careful. with the amount of time you two spent in each others beds or really any place you could manage privacy. betting on all the plan b’s you’d taken to keep your from getting pregnant even though you were aware it wasn’t safe to take so many frequently.

all the times you’d moan out around him. nails digging into the rolls on konigs back as he pounded into you. his own pathetic whines echoing in the space with yours. strings of english and german. asking, begging you to let him cum inside of you. to let him fill you up, how gorgeous you’d look swelling with his seed.

he loves the idea. thinking of you round and glowing with his baby. maybe even twins, they run in his family after all. wondering if they’d have your skin complexion or his pale freckled one. if their hair would grow in ginger like his as a baby only to change to a deep brown when he got older. if they’d have your love for reading or his for video games. if you’d look at them with as much joy as you did your nieces and nephews.

it was something he’d hoped he’d be able to convince you with time. you’d spent so many months at this point with each other. he’d let you cry in his chest when you were having a hard time. let you complain about classes to him and he’d spoil you with his money. eager to show you how well he could take care of you if you’d just give him a chance.

surely you’d realize soon enough he was the one person for you. and he’d thought about this outcome too. trapping you with him for life. if you wouldn’t date him, wouldn’t admit the feelings he was sure you had for him then he’d just take matters into his own hands. it’d be so easy to knock you up. you were so greedy when it came to his cum. quick to get on your knees and worship his thick cock. eager to lick the copious amounts of cum from your hand after giving him a handjob.

everytime he begged to cum inside of you, to mark you as his he could fill you tighten up around him. your perfect cunt milking his cock till he was overstimulated and whining into your neck.

he’d recall the times you’d ask him to cum for you, to fill you up whenever he had to take his hard and leaking cock into his own hand.

think about how good you always look rolling your hips as your soaking cunt rubbed against his fat stomach. using him as a toy while begging for his cum as if you weren’t denying yourself. a part of him angry to be wasting what’s yours. wasting his potent seed when he could be filling your perfect body up instead.

so konig could hardly hold back the joy he felt as you sobbed next to him on his bed. arm wrapped around you in comfort as you tried to speak through your tears. crying about being pregnant, how you both should’ve been more careful. you’re still in school, both still studying for the separate futures you wanted to build. and now those plans were taking a sharp turn with two little pink lines.

he’d rub your back as you cried into his chest, tears soaking his shirt. mind already filling with baby names and how he’d introduce you to family. they’d love you, he knew it. his family would easily accept you with his babies swelling inside of your belly. you’d grow to love and accept him now, you had no choice.

once again found a finished work in my drafts i forgot about whoops. have a few more so i’ll prob post something tomorrow, hope you enjoyed🙈🫶🏽

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig x gn!reader #pervert!konig #perv!konig #aforestescape

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exquisink · 1 year ago

Text

@lupanaoflaminar || thanks for the suggestion! apologies for the delay. enjoy!

aang notices a change in the dynamic between zuko and katara.

how does he notice this shift?

appa detects that dramatic shift first--nudging him and pointing out how much closer and intimate they've gotten. from exchanging little whispers, maybe sweet nothings for all that aang knows, or stealing glances when they can. it must cease in aang's world, because he does see katara first and that means she's his turf, thank you very much.

appa disagrees.

never does he feel more betrayed, but if there's anyone's judgment aang trusts more than anyone's, it's appa's. so he knows when to wave that little white flag in the realm of his disastrous excuse for a love life. katara seems interested in zuko, as much as she vehemently denies it to his face.

appa knows better; now aang knows better.

it's another evening of watching those two fumble around each other like imbeciles. ok zuko's the imbecile, especially for weasling his way into her radar like this; katara's the smartest, prettiest, most powerful girl in the world in aang's eyes (though her interest in zuko has him reconsidering that judgment). appa adjusts his position where he is by aang and yawns, just before taking action.

zuko and katara choose to sit next to each other by the fire, but there's a healthy distance between them. something aang appreciates, but apparently appa has other plans. zuko relaxes his posture, tension releasing from his body and feeling at peace in katara's presence. aang continues to glower like a jealous partner. that's just like aang always feels around her. zuko does seem to want to make a move but is petrified about proceeding. firelord title aside, he's just like any other awkward teenager working through complicated emotions like feelings for a girl near and dear to him.

aang tries to ignore the jealousy pooling in his gut. really, he does. he's given the time to back COMPLETELY off. he knows katara doesn't belong to anyone, and she can be with whoever makes her happy. if zuko makes her happy, then that's that. appa has a great judge of character after all and zuko is still his dearest friend above all else.

while katara's attending to some strands of hair that have gone astray from the humidity, zuko admires her with the most soft affection glimmering in his amber eyes. it makes aang sick to his stomach. that's how AANG always looks at katara . . .

he catches zuko glancing at her every now and then, and almost tries to reach his hand out to her, but retracts at the last minute. he's probably groaning to himself, and appa, as fed up with these antics as he is, nudges zuko hard by the shoulder and now he's barely centimeters from smelling katara's freshly washed hair.

"s-sorry! sorry. don't know what got over appa and i uhhhh -- am i invading your personal space?"

katara glances up at him with a puzzled expression before shaking her head with a smile.

"not at all zuko." in fact to zuko's delight and aang's disapproval she scoots into him, practically in his lap. "is that better?"

"i, uh, yes! of course," zuko stammers. appa groans before returning to aang's side, pleased with his role of zuko's personal wingman.

"you know you're supposed to be on my side," aang whispers. "but i guess it's just not meant to be with us."

appa grunts in response, as if to affirm what aang said is true.

#atla #atla zutara #zutara #zuko x katara #atla zuko #atla katara #the gaang #gaang #appa #atla appa #katara #zutara drabble #atla drabble #erixtales

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scoobydoodean · 5 months ago

Note

wait hi op i made that bitchy post about deangirl real world consequences. popping in to clarify bc i have #autism and can’t stand miscommunication even if we both have vehemently diff spn opinions and will still incredibly disagree once i communicate. i meant real world consequences in terms of ‘deangirlism has consequences To The World’ in terms of general ability to recognise abusive dynamics irl and even that was tongue-in-cheek/i don’t actually think that. i especially do not think in a million years there are real world evil biblical consequences for Being A Deangirl💕the samgirls as catholics post was funny tho so props to u

I think samgirls like you should work on your own ability to recognize abusive dynamics in real life. Starting with a primer on DARVO. That's fair enough about not intending a spiritual angle, but I don't think it makes you look any better if I'm being honest (though I'm sure you don't care, since I certainly don't care what you or your friends think of me).

I'd appreciate it if you and your circle stopped talking shit about other bloggers you don't like by name. It's dogshit behavior. Some of your followers took your post as an invitation to come on my page and hate scroll for a while and send me hate mail. You publicly complained about several of my mutuals—including one person who I know your friends (if not you yourself) have piled on before specifically for pointing out canonical events that occur in Supernatural that don't support your agenda. What if reminding one of them about it caused them to start up their harassment again? Or was that what you wanted deep down? I don't happen to be bothered by the middle schoolers who follow you messaging me to try and hurt my feelings. But I don't appreciate you inciting harassment against my friends at all.

I find it funny that even now, you're on your page playing victim about being vagued about by two strangers you openly talked shit about by name out of the blue. Tbh it's easy to see why you and your equally catty friends identify with Sam. You all love to pretend you're the victim in every interaction you've ever had. When something you chose to do even vaguely bites you in the ass, you act like it was everyone else's fault but yours and take no responsibility, and even now, all you care about is clarifying that you aren't religious instead of apologizing for publicly complaining about a group of strangers to your toxic, harassment-prone followers because you can't figure out how to filter a goddamn url.

Please type "scoobydoodean" into your Tumblr word filter and be free of my allegedly inescapable posts forever—and don't ever talk shit about my friends ever again.

#this is sideblog fyi so I can absolutely see your posts #and why would you use someone's name ass out on main and assume /none/ of their followers would see it anyway #do you have any idea how many times i've been sent posts about me by anons completely unprompted?#including from what I've heard other samfans trying to stir up drama?

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asterdisaster06 · 2 years ago

Text

i love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

Pt 1. Pt 2. 3.

summary > Soap interactions with you, bringing you food after you skip dinner in favor of taking a nap, Price wants to see you - see pt 1 for overall fic summary

word count > 1.6k

warnings > should be none

a/n > future chapters should be longer, this just felt like a nice cutoff and I'm just starting to get the hang of fanfic writing. gotta love our boy Soap though. it might be a while for the next chapter though since i'm working on other works too

ao3

“Goddamn, who let a little birdie in here?” He laughs.

Soap. You had heard quite a bit about this particular Scotsman from your ex lover. You had an inkling that you two would’ve gotten along, even bringing it up to Simon once or twice about meeting him. He denied your request, sighing goodnaturedly about how you two apart are already the death of him - let alone together. You claimed that this was all the more reason to meet him, or at the very least, let him know of your existence. Simon had always paused around this point and you had never pushed it, and now you’re kind of glad. The last thing you needed was another person that was no longer a stranger around this base. You were supposed to be having a new start, and that would be very difficult if MacTavish knew of your existence beforehand.

However, you hadn’t expected to run into one of Simon’s teammates so soon into your arrival on base. The world seemed to have different plans though.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to my room?” You ask politely, pulling out your information to show him.

“Aye, I do happen to know the way, follow me, Lass.”

You were honestly counting on him not knowing, but you’re realizing now that he’s the kind of person that would figure it out whether he knew initially or not. It seems like you’re stuck in the company of this man and his mohawk for a little while longer. It’s not like you particularly disliked him, in fact it was quite the opposite. It’s just the memories of your past are being dredged up by him, and his association with Simon wasn’t helping.

“So, what’s up with the mask,” He asks, drawing out the ‘a’ in the last word, coming off as teasing you.

You were attempting to come up with a half truth, because you truly hadn’t worn this mask minus on missions at your old base. It was simply this place that brought out that side of you. Or maybe it was a person rather than a place.

“I just find it comforting, y’know?” You decide on, finally. It wasn’t a lie, the mask truly did offer you comfort around here. It just probably isn’t for a reason that Soap would detect.

“I think you’d get along well with one of my masked comrades, maybe bond about hiding identities or somethin’” Soap chuckles.

You offer a slight smile in return, the anxiety that had recently left coming back in full force. You knew exactly who he was talking about, and you vehemently disagreed with what Soap had to say.

“You should join us for dinner after you get settled in, I could be your little tour guide,” Soap says, winking at you.

“I’ll have to think about it, stranger,” You offer back, smiling.

“Oh yeah! The name’s Soap. Soap MacTavish,” He laughs.

“You can call me Angel,” You say, blushing as you realize the implications.

He sends you a curious look with an eyebrow raise. “Oh? Let me at least take you out to dinner first, Bonnie.”

“Very funny, it’s my callsign. Like I assume yours is, unless your parents really hated you,” You joke, almost enjoying this banter with Soap.

“Oi, we don’t judge around here,” He laughs, referring to your silly callsigns.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Soap?” You ask, ready to settle down in your own space. With your own silence to accompany you.

“Is that a yes to dinner?” He jokes, aware of the double meaning of his sentence.

“Oh knock it off, I’ll have to think about it,” You smile, wondering if this is how it could’ve been in another life. A life where you had actually gotten to meet Soap under different circumstances. You unlock your door, entering and turning back to see Soap still there.

“Don’t think too hard! I wouldn’t want you to worry that pretty little head of yours too much, Bonnie,” He teases, already deciding on a nickname for you it seems.

“We hardly know each other, and you have no clue what I look like,” You laugh, pushing him out of your doorframe, amused at his antics nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m sure you look slightly better than a troll under the bridge at least,” He says with a toothy grin. “You’re not ugly, are you?” He asks ironically.

“Quite the opposite,” You offer up with a crooked smile.

“That’s what I thought,” He says with a smile that rivals the Cheshire cat. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be fine alone,” You say, tiredly. It’s not like you wanted to cut your friendly banter with Soap short. On the other hand, you didn’t exactly feel like socializing. Not after your tiring day already.

“Alright, alright rookie. But I am bringing something around later to make sure you eat. If it wasn’t me it would be Price, so don’t think it’s any trouble,” He says, predicting your words before you could even voice them.

“Who are you calling a rookie, Sergeant?” You chirp out.

“Are you not one? Price just mentioned that we would be getting someone new, or maybe I was zoning out when he mentioned your details. Actually no, I definitely was. I think I was throwing crumpled up paper at Gaz - you’ll meet him later,” Soap explains, smiling at the end.

Gaz. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. Simon had spoken less of him specifically but whatever he did have to say, it was only full of praise. That or another story of his unfortunate luck lending him time hanging from a rope out of a helicopter. That story had always made you laugh.

“I’m technically a Lieutenant,” You manage to say between laughter.

“Jesus Christ, another one? I wouldn’t have coined you for one,” Soap exclaimed.

“And why’s that?” You ask, curious but already knowing the answer. People have always underestimated you based on looks and size. Starting from your first days at the academy to when you first got your callsign to even after you were nicknamed the ‘Angel of Death.’ Other soldiers had only reinforced Simon’s words that you weren’t worthy of your position, let alone the opportunity to even try.

“Just the way our Lieutenant, or I guess I should start referring to him as ‘First Lieutenant’ now, responded to the details that I didn’t hear. He almost seemed to be. . . worried about having someone else to worry about. Looking at you now though, I can tell we’re going to have nothing to worry about,” He ends with a smile.

Huh, that was new. You didn’t expect that from Soap, but you suppose he’s just full of surprises. Fitting for the demolitionist that has a knack for gunpowder filled surprises. Nonetheless, you had luggage to unpack and sleep to catch up on. You eventually get Soap to leave you alone to your devices, putting on your playlist and unpacking about half of your shit before getting too tired to continue. Laying back on your freshly made bed, your eyes flutter closed and you fall into unconsciousness.

A knock at your door wakes you and you shake off your sleepiness - rubbing your eyes and stretching as you do. The blurriness of both your vision and mind makes you almost forget where you are. Only for a second though.

“Open up, Angel!” Soap yells through the door.

He really had no capabilities of being subtle, did he. You stumble a bit getting out of bed but find your footing and make your way to the wooden door, turning the knob and opening it. The brightness of the hallway makes you flinch slightly before your eyes adjust to the lighting.

“What do you want?” You ask the man who’s simply standing and staring at you.

“You- you don’t have your mask on-” He stammers, seemingly caught between staring and shielding his face out of politeness.

“I mean, I don’t sleep with it on, and you did kind of wake me up, MacTavish,” You sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Oh right! Here’s your food,” Soap smiles sheepishly, taking the tupperware out from behind his back. It has a silly little doodle of himself in cartoon form saying “Food for Angel, No touchy” which you found amusing enough to smile at.

“Thank you Soap, genuinely,” You offer up, taking his gift of food from his hands.

He smiles back at you, sending you a mock salute before heading off to presumably his room. Before he gets to the end of the hallway he suddenly stops and turns, yelling back at you that Price wants to see you in his office after you finish eating. He really waited until the last minute for that one, didn’t he? Despite the slight annoyance you held, it was overshadowed by the simple amusement you had watching the man. He might not have known you knew of his famous shenanigans before you even set eyes on him, but you would get there. You take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of what the mess hall had to offer for today. It exceeded your expectations, but that could just be the fact that your old base had shit food.

You truly wondered what Price had to say to you, deciding that he was calling you down to fire you for the disrespect you had shown him and your apparent partner by leaving so suddenly. Obviously, it was not going to be that dramatic, but you still worried a tad bit. You were aware that you would likely be working alongside Simon, and some small masochistic part of you accepted this job despite it. Maybe in spite of it. You wanted to prove yourself to him, though you’re now realizing that he’ll eventually need to know your identity. Something you aren’t keen on sharing.

That part of you had been shed long ago, and now your new feathers have grown in.

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