#trying to force a habit and all that jazz

[ohbo-ohno]

dont have to answer but i'm fighting sleep right now to get a few more scenes done on fics

i'd love to hear more about this arch nemesis of yours the blue curtains?

oh LMAO i was talking about this old tumblr post that goes around and resparks discourse every once in a while!

it drives me craaaaazy bc i love love love to overanalyze things and pick apart every single line. also my mother is an english teacher so i grew up surrounded by literary analysis and things of the sort lol, i was learning about color symbolism from her in like early elementary school

also as a writer it's like. if the curtains are called out as specifically blue, that's for a reason. if they were just telling you the curtains are there, they'd say "the curtains were drawn" or smth. the fact that the color blue is specifically noted is intentional, and the author wouldn't have included it if there wasn't a purpose - especially when you're reading smth that's being analyzed in an english class, so it's usually some higher level stuff!! the curtains are never just blue!!!

anyways, people usually quote this post as a sort of "ugh you're looking into it too much" thing and i just think thats Boring

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #32

It all began when Dr. Jasmine Fenton—Jazz, to the brave and traumatized—walked into the Avengers Compound in five-inch block heels, a blood-red blazer, and a clipboard with everyone’s most damning psychological profiles printed in 12-point Times New Roman. She had been hired because, quote, “the last six therapists either quit, cried, or developed their own hero complexes.” SHIELD had gone through the best and brightest the world had to offer. They even tried a Wakandan empathy AI once. It cried. The AI cried.

So when Jazz Fenton walked in, armed with a dual PhD in clinical psychology and trauma therapy, the last thing they expected was that she’d personally know what hero trauma looked like. But she did. Her baby brother was a half-ghost interdimensional guardian who once got hit by a nuke and walked it off. Her parents were mad scientists who tried to dissect him. And her godfather was an immortal corporate vampire with a crown kink and a habit of kidnapping. She had seen things. She understood. And more importantly, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to coddle them.

“Dr. Fenton,” Steve Rogers greeted politely that first morning.

“Please, call me Jazz,” she said with a smile that made even Natasha lower her coffee. “Or Doctor Fenton if you’re about to lie to me.”

Tony Stark made the mistake of raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you gonna do, psychoanalyze me into submission?”

She flipped to his file. “‘Severe abandonment issues, destructive self-worth tendencies, martyr complex buried under layers of narcissistic deflection, sleeps three hours a night, probably cries in the shower—’”

“I don’t cry in the shower!”

“That is because you don’t shower, Mr. Stark.”

That shut him up.

From that day onward, fear fell over the Avengers Compound like a thick, fragrant fog of anxiety. Jazz was everywhere. One moment she was on the roof with Clint discussing his grief over Budapest, the next she was in the lab with Bruce making him cry, and the moment after that she had Loki in handcuffs—not because he was arrested, but because he asked for them.

“I just think maybe I’m too attached to the idea of being hated,” Loki muttered, slouched on the therapy couch.

“You are,” Jazz replied, checking her notes. “You’re addicted to conflict because you’ve built your identity on being an outsider. Every time you’re offered genuine affection, you self-sabotage. You’re not a villain, you’re just a lonely youngest child.”

“I—” Loki blinked. “That is horrifically accurate. And incredibly offensive.”

“Cry harder, Sparklehorn.”

Thor, meanwhile, loved her. Adored her. Followed her around like an emotional support golden retriever with lightning powers. He kept trying to give her things—golden goblets, fur cloaks, an entire goat—until one day she casually picked up Mjolnir while fixing a crooked painting and everyone screamed.

“How the fuck—” Sam Wilson shouted.

“Why can she do that?” Peter Parker asked from the ceiling.

“Therapists shouldn’t be worthy!” Tony wailed. “It’s not natural!”

Jazz shrugged and handed the hammer back to Thor. “I was forged in the fires of Midwestern neglect and ghost radiation. You think Odin can break me? Try surviving your brother getting publicly disemboweled by a government robot while your parents take notes.”

She had no chill. None. She was the only person who called Wanda out on her grief projection, made Bucky talk about his repressed ballet skills, and forced Steve to draw a family tree so she could scream “YOUR ENTIRE FRIEND GROUP IS CODEPENDENT.”

“Group therapy!” she declared one Tuesday.

“No,” said literally everyone.

“Too bad. Show up or I will personally guilt you in front of the media using your own trauma receipts.”

And they did. They came. They came because they were afraid.

Tony sat with arms crossed. “This is stupid.”

“Tell that to your inner child.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

Clint sighed. “This is worse than Budapest.”

“Everything is worse than Budapest,” Natasha replied.

Wanda blinked slowly. “I think I just astrally projected my own anxiety. It’s hovering above me like a raincloud.”

Jazz didn’t even blink. “Let it hover. Let it watch you cry. Maybe it’ll finally grow up.”

Civil War? Canceled.

No one dared fight each other under Jazz’s watch. When tensions began rising between Tony and Steve over the Sokovia Accords, she locked them in a soundproof room with juice boxes and didn’t let them out until they hugged it out like the emotionally repressed golden retrievers they were.

“I will tranquilize you both,” she warned through the door. “I have the darts and the upper body strength. Don’t tempt me.”

They made up within the hour.

At one point, Nick Fury tried to get involved. He barged into one of Jazz’s sessions like he still ran SHIELD.

“What the hell kind of therapy involves throwing knives at a target while crying?” he demanded.

Jazz, unfazed, handed him a stress knife. “Want to try?”

He did. And then immediately rebooked weekly appointments.

By week four, the compound was transformed. Hulk was journaling. Peter was actually doing his homework. Wanda was learning healthy coping mechanisms that didn’t involve mind-controlling entire suburbs. Clint and Natasha were having pillow talks about emotional vulnerability. Even Loki was crocheting.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” he whispered as he stitched a duck.

“I’ve read your file,” Jazz said. “And your Tumblr tag. You’re not special.”

“I am special—”

“You’re traumatized, sweetie.”

Meanwhile, Tony—still deeply suspicious—began following her around trying to find proof she was a Hydra sleeper agent. What he found instead was her absolutely unhinged family.

“You’re related to who?” he asked over coffee one morning.

Jazz sighed. “My little brother is Danny Phantom, ghost-powered superhero and part-time physics major. My godfather is Vlad Masters, ex-billionaire and full-time supervillain with a complex. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Tony blinked. “The guys who duct-taped a rocket to a lawnmower and called it science?”

“The very same.”

“No wonder you’re like this.”

Jazz nodded. “Exactly. I was forged in chaos and trauma. Now I’m here to fix you.”

“I don’t want to be fixed.”

“Too bad. I’ve already started rebuilding your psyche.”

“What does that mean—”

“Check your inner monologue. Notice how it’s stopped calling you a worthless meat puppet?”

Tony screamed.

Even Doctor Strange, who allegedly had the answers to the universe, found himself in a corner drinking tea and rethinking the way he suppressed his emotions with sarcasm and facial hair.

“You’re not mystical, Stephen,” Jazz told him. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“I literally astral project.”

“Cool. Now try emotional projection. Maybe apologize to Wong.”

“…Wong is asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

By month two, even the press noticed. The Avengers were glowing. Smiling. Making eye contact during press conferences instead of brooding like middle school theater kids.

“What changed?” a reporter asked.

Tony grabbed the mic. “Her name is Jazz Fenton and she scares the hell out of us.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “She made me cry six times in one session. I told her about my dad.”

“She made me draw my feelings,” Clint added.

“I finally cried about Pietro,” Wanda whispered. “In public. It felt amazing. I think I vomited emotions.”

“Dr. Fenton helped me write a song about my grief,” Thor said proudly. “It’s a power ballad. With goats.”

And then came the incident.

The one time the Avengers tried to disobey her. Sam and Bucky had been arguing again. Loudly. And somewhere in the chaos, someone dared say, “It’s not like Jazz can stop us.”

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

Jazz calmly walked into the sparring room, confiscated Bucky’s knife mid-twirl, took Sam’s wings with one hand, and sat both men down with the force of divine intervention.

“You two,” she said in a voice that made the walls tremble, “are not enemies. You are trauma-bonded enemies-to-friends-to-exes-to-besties. You are a trope. You are a fanfiction tag. You are not about to regress into kindergarten slap fights because one of you forgot the others’ favorite breakfast order.”

“…He forgot my birthday,” Sam muttered.

“Because he has memory trauma! You have it too! You both need to go on a spa day and cry it out in a hot tub like normal people.”

And they did.

They actually did.

The day Jazz left for a conference—just one day—the entire compound fell into shambles. Loki started monologuing again, Peter accidentally built a sentient AI who wrote poetry about death, Wanda started glowing red again, and Tony tried to weaponize emotional damage via sarcastic limericks.

The moment she came back, they all lined up like chastised children.

“What did I say about emotionally projecting without supervision?” she asked.

“Don’t do it,” they chorused.

“And?”

Peter sniffled. “We missed you.”

“Damn right you did.”

Jazz smiled, terrifying and fond, and flipped her clipboard. “Now. Who wants to talk about their mother?”

And the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, sat down.

Because nothing—not Chitauri, not Ultron, not even Thanos—was scarier than the therapist who could lift Mjolnir and your deepest childhood wound in the same breath.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton was the real hero. And everyone knew it.

[taesanluv3r]

somethin' stupid

kim leehan x reader

popular boy kim leehan is actually a huge jazz nerd and hangs out with his friends at a karaoke bar. there, he performs an unexpected duet with the quiet girl he recognizes from his art class, yn ln. lowercase intended. pls ignore any grammatical errors/spelling mistakes! enjoy <3

wc: 3,856

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and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like...

the jazzy music coming from the live band seeped in through kim leehan's ears as he enters the bar with his group of friends. he smiles sweetly, waving at the few people that recognized him as he passed by. "well if it isn't my favourite boy! let me guess, you want your usual spot, mister popular?" jiho, the familiar host of the family-friendly bar who acts as an older brother figure for the boy, greeted happily, earning a nod in response.

the group is led to their designated spot - possibly the best spot in the house - only the best for the bar's favourite regulars. see, despite being the most sought after guy in school, leehan prefers to lay low for the most part. he knows what he likes, and he doesn't want to change that just because of his popularity. this jazz bar for instance, is the greatest example of the boy's simple habits.

he had been going there since middle school, when he discovered that he not only loved the genre, but also enjoyed singing along to the tunes. and when his parents overheard his beautiful rendition of frank sinatra's my way from the shower, they took him to this bar for the very first time. that's when he fell in love. he fell in love with the music, with the live acoustics, and of course, with their karaoke sessions. he liked that it was chill over there. the music wasn't bass boosted into his ears, the people that went there weren't rowdy, and best of all, it was an escape from the party-animal type of crowd he was used to being associated with at school. since then, the boy had began hanging out there with his closest friends, earning him a designated table with the best view of the stage.

"and now...the best few hours of your life...it's open karaoke time! now's your chance to show off your talent - get up on stage and let the band know what song to play"

the announcement blaring out of the host's microphone caused a sea of goosebumps to form on the surface of leehan's skin. he always looked forward to karaoke nights, even if he didn't feel like singing some days. he loved watching other people perform just as much as he loved performing himself.

"you singing tonight, bro?" taesan, one of his best friends who sat beside him, asked as he took a sip from his iced americano. the boy shrugged, "don't know yet...i might...we'll see the vibes" he replies, stroking a hand through his blonde hair. "i know i am!" sungho, who sat on one end of the round-ish couch, chimed in, earning a chorus of groans and whines of we know you will's from the other boys.

the group quieted down a bit, enjoying their snacks and drinks as they watched a couple strangers get up on the stage to sing alongside the bar's live band. over time, the place started to fill with more and more people, the indistinct chatter harmonizing with the music.

"so how's it going tonight, guys?" jiho, the host from before, asked as he made his way to the group's table. "good, as always - especially these chicken wings, best addition to the menu ever!" woonhak cheers with half a drumstick still in his mouth. the guys share a laugh, "you're not singing tonight, bro?" the question is directed towards leehan, who was still contemplating on what to do. "can't you force him to? we've been trying to get him to sing all night...but he's being weirdly shy" jaehyun whines, a faux pout evident on his face. jiho chuckles, "c'mon bro! sing one song - who knows, maybe you'll get noticed tonight..." leehan looks at him confused, "like by a record label?" the older guy rolls his eyes, "sure! or maybe...by a girl? i mean c'mon how is mister popular still single?!" the others giggle, watching the way the blonde's ears turned a bright shade of red.

"yeah, we wonder that too...i mean, it's not like he doesn't have a billion girls wanting him..." riwoo says, crossing his arms across his chest as if he were disappointed. "yeah, he literally has so many options and just chooses to be single...like? make it make sense" taesan butts in, scoffing with a smirk. "it's not that i choose to be single. it's just that...the girls who go after me aren't exactly...my type" the so-called mister popular states, pouting out of habit at his pestering group of friends. jiho laughs again, "my point still stands, brother...you're in your zone right now! get on that stage...maybe your type - whoever it may be - is here waiting for you!" his words make the two sides of leehan's brain start to debate.

"whatever you choose though, better hurry while the stage is empty - only a matter of time before someone else is up there singing your favourite songs"

after another minute or so, the blonde boy gets up from his seat, the eyes of his five friends following him as he moves to get onto the stage. they watch as he converses with the band members, probably telling them what song he was planning on singing. he was smiling, laughing at something the drummer said before a look of surprise made it's way to his face. no one could make out what he was saying due to the distance between them and the stage, but judging from the way his mouth moved he said something along the lines of:

"what?! why!? how will i sing(?) then?!"

the boys stared at the stage confused as their mister popular continued to talk with the band. they watched as he began nodding rapidly, giving a quick thumbs up before turning around to face the audience. leehan grabbed the microphone from off of it's stand, clearing his throat once before he started to speak. "hey guys! so um...the song i usually sing is a duet - and i usually sing it with the female singer of this band- shout out to her! but um...she's sick right now and won't be able to sing with me so if anyone out there wants to sing with me please get on the stage...heh" the boy rambles and stutters, suddenly feeling way too seen and way too nervous. "oh! and the song is somethin' stupid...by frank and nancy sinatra...so...if anyone wants to...yeah" his friends almost die from second hand embarrassment, laughing as they watched the usually calm kim leehan start to sweat and shake on the stage.

"this is a once in a lifetime chance to duet with mister popular, guys! don't miss out!" jiho, who had a mic of his own, says with a look of pity - in an attempt to help the poor guy.

the boy gulped as he scanned the room for any sign of a sweet stranger that would save his ego and just sing with him, but to no avail. he sighed, starting to wonder if he should just walk off the stage and go straight home.

"she'll do it!" a loud voice cuts off the silent atmosphere of the bar, causing all eyes to look for it's source. a tall girl with long black hair, she had the biggest smile on her face as she repeatedly pointed towards her friend that sat beside her; a shy looking girl with her hands covering her face in embarrassment. she began to shake her head profusely, waving her hands in front of her face in refusal. the black haired girl put up a strong front though, practically pushing her friend off of the couch and towards the stage. "alright! get up here then!" the host cheered, hyping her up as she shyly walks over, a round of applause filling the room.

by the time she was on the stage, her hands that were covering her face had moved to hold onto the mic. leehan had on a warm and friendly smile, trying to make out what she looked like but having a hard time doing so as she kept facing the ground below them. she looked familiar though, he was sure he'd seen her somewhere before.

"why don't you introduce yourself?" the host asked, trying to build up her confidence before she had to start singing. "um..." her voice was soft, just a decibel above a whisper, and it trembled slightly as she spoke. "my name is..." the blonde boy beside her listened intently, impatient to know who she was. "my name is yn ln" - that was it!

yn! the girl that sat at the very back of his art class at school - she never really spoke, but he knew her from her art. she was the best at it, her paintings and other works always being displayed on their school's art walls.

"well, yn! let's see if you have what it takes to duet with our very own jazz king-" jiho is cut off by an elbow to his gut and a glare of warning from the blonde boy. "ow! anyways, the stage is all yours" the host walks off the elevated floor, nodding at the pair of strangers to signal that it was their turn to entertain the crowd.

"you ready?" leehan asked, smiling softly at the girl who was very evidently nervous. yn nods, "mhm, ready when you are", returning his smile with one that was just as sweet. the boy turns to signal the band.

"ladies and gentlemen...this is somethin' stupid"

the song begins with a soft melody, the live band setting a romantic mood into the atmosphere. leehan and yn share a glance, nodding along to the beat, awaiting their cue. the boy watched as her eyes closed for a moment, her movements fluid as she swayed softly - all signs of her previous nervousness gone as she lost herself to the music. and then they sang.

"i know i stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me..." a gasp is heard from somewhere in the audience as they sung, eyes staring at them in awe as their voices blended seamlessly with each others. "and if we go someplace to dance, i know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me..." yn opens her eyes, locking them with his as their smiles seeped into the song. "then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two..." the climax of the verse is about to hit, the pair's legs guiding them unconsciously closer to one another. her eyes shut closed again, lips pressed against the microphone. he stares at her, in a trance he's never experienced before. "and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, i love you"

they were far too lost in their duet to tell, but as they performed together on stage the rest of the bar started to get hot; their chemistry so warm and electrifying that every other person in the room could feel the sweet, romantic tension that escaped through their opened mouths as they sang. the boy's group of friends locked eyes with the girl's singular friend, signalling her with their eyes to come and join them at their table. she obliged, taking a seat on their couch and continuing to watch the lovely performance happening in front of them.

it's that point in the song right before the end where the band breaks into an instrumental. the guests of the jazz bar watched as the pair began to dance with each other - having seemingly forgotten about the audience. yn's eyes glistened with glee as she took the boy's opened hand, giggling softly as she twirled in circles, landing just about two inches away from him for the final verse. leehan smiled, a genuine one that reached his crescent shaped eyes as he lifted the mic up to his mouth again. his hand still holding onto hers as they gazed deep into each other.

"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue..." they harmonized, standing still in their spots. "and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, i love you" his voice is deep and hers is higher, the perfect combination as they utter the final refrain. "i love you..." they repeated over and over. on the surface, it seemed as though they were just completing a mindless duet. simply mimicking the lyrics to a tune they both loved. deep down though, a strange feeling bubbled up in the depths of their beating hearts - almost as if they meant to say every single word.

"...i love you"

their voices faded out along with the band's instruments, a moment of silence filling the room before it was replaced with a chorus of cheers and applause. the pair had returned from la la land, gasping in shock as they were reminded of the crowd of people in the bar with them. feeling a surge of confidence she had never felt before, yn bowed dramatically to the audience, standing up straight again with a huge grin on her face. leehan did the same, bowing slightly with a look of pure pride.

"ladies and gentlemen, leehan and yn! what a beautiful performance. the chemistry was on point, you two" jiho reenters the stage, sending the pair off with a suggestive wink that they both decided to completely dismiss.

the boy and the girl drowned out the rest of the host's comments as they returned back to the floor below the elevated steps of the stage. leehan faced her with a smile, "you were really good out there...i didn't know you could sing like that - i mean, you're always so shy in school so-" he didn't get to finish, "you've seen me at school?! i mean - duh, i'm not invisible but...i mean, i never thought you of all people would notice me..." yn's words come out of her mouth fast in an attempt to hide the obvious pity in her voice. "what're you talking about?! it's kinda hard not to notice you when your incredible art is pasted all over the walls - i mean, you may not know it but me and the boys are always looking at them and wondering how the hell a human would be able to paint like that! woonhak thinks you might be an alien" his compliments make her cheeks flush, a giggle escaping her lips as she shakes her head. "no, i'm serious! you're incredible - er, i mean...you can paint, and it's no secret that you're smart too...and you're cute, and i mean you can sing too! you really got it all, huh..." leehan's voice quieted down towards the end, his mind suddenly going into deep thinking mode.

yn looked at him confused, "are you okay?" he shakes out of his thoughts, "huh? yeah! um...i should probably head back to my friends..." she nods along with him, "yeah me too- oh!...looks like my friend is over there with your friends now..." the boy furrows his eyebrows, snapping his head around in the direction she was pointing to, a look of disbelief in his face as he spots the group of boys sitting with the one girl. leehan sighs, "what are they up to now..." yn follows behind him closely as he makes his way to the table, his steps are strong and determined - she's clueless and curious.

"oh, lookie here! it's the smashing duet of the century!" jaehyun exclaims, arms up in the air excitedly. "you guys were awesome out there! i'm minju by the way, yn's best friend" the black haired girl speaks, reaching a hand out for the blonde boy to shake. he did so, then cleared his throat to reply. "nice to meet you, and thank you...but what are you doing sitting here, suddenly?" he didn't mean to sound rude or intruding, but the boy was genuinely curious as to how she ended up at the table with his friends. minju smiled, "they invited me over here while you guys were singing!" sungho chimes in after, "yeah, she was all alone so we told her to come sit here" leehan nods understandingly, "oh, that makes sense. could you make some room though guys, my leg's tired from standing up-" the boys don't let him finish.

"oh, sorry bro, i'm gonna stop you there. see, it's kind of tight over here but look! yn and minju's table from before is still empty and there's plenty of space for you two there!" one of them says, a shit-eating grin on his face. if it weren't for the fact that they were in public and he had a pretty cool girl standing beside him right now, leehan would've went ahead and punched that smug smirk right off of taesan's face; but we digress. "you guys go ahead over there, i'm perfectly fine here!" minju grins, just as sneakily as the boys surrounding her. yn rolls her eyes but smiles, "c'mon leehan, they obviously don't want us here and i'm thirsty, let's go" she says as she grabs the blonde boy's arm, dragging him away to their new seat as he flips his friends off in annoyance.

"those idiots..." he said, sticking a french fry into his mouth. the girl beside him laughs, "is it that bad being forced to sit with me?" she was joking, but for some reason the boy thought she meant it for real. "no! no! i...it's not that, i swear! i do like you - i mean, i like sitting with you" he stops talking when she breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound so sweet that it makes his heart skip a beat. "i was joking!...and i like sitting with you too...you're a lot different than i thought" he tilts his head to the side, "what do you mean?"

yn takes in a deep breath, "i don't know...i guess it's just that in school, you have this popular guy reputation and all the girls ever say about you is how hot and sexy you are and how you probably have a billion chicks lining up for you but-" leehan's gaze distracts her for a moment. "but...?" he asks, wanting her to continue. "but you're not like that at all, are you? i mean...you could be at that guy haruto's house party right now, getting shit faced with the rest of the school, but you're not. you're here. you're in a quiet karaoke jazz bar with your friends, listening to music, and singing duets with me - who, in case you weren't aware, is just a shy nobody at school"

there's a sparkle in the boy's eyes, a single tear threatening to trickle down his face. he's in another trance, and it's all her fault. "are...are you crying? was it something i said? i'm sorry, forget i said anything!" she rambles, trying to apologize for whatever reason but he just shakes his head. "no...it's just...you're the first person outside of my closest friends to ever say something like this to me...it's just...thank you" now her eyes held that same glow, her lips quivering to talk but not a single word came out.

the pair froze like that for a while. eyes locked in each other's, faces inches apart, and their heavy breaths matching up. "yn...i know we just truly met, but it feels like we've known each other for ages..." leehan spoke, his voice airy and light. "well, technically speaking we've known each other since middle school-" she doesn't get to speak anymore, interrupted by his three words that took her by surprise.

"i love you"

yn's eyes grow wide, words slurred as they stuttered out of her mouth. "what...?" her reaction was awkward, but for some reason that made the boy happy - a weird kind of giddy sensation engulfing his body like a hug. "i love you" he says again, full of confidence like he didn't have a single care in this world. it's only then when the confession hits her, her body fidgeting in realization. "can you hear me now? in case you didn't, what i said was that-" she nods enthusiastically, "i know, i know! you said, i love you...and...i think i do too" yn mumbles the last bit of her sentence, her head falling down to look at her hands, the ground, just anything but him.

leehan chuckles, his cold hand lightly tapping at her chin, lifting her head up to face him. "did you say something?" he asked, smug and prideful. yn sighs, rolling her eyes before scooching closer to him on the couch. they were just centimeters away now, they could feel each other's breaths grazing against their skin.

"i love you"

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"so what were guys talking about so seriously over there before?" riwoo asks.

the group of boys and the one girl had reunited with the pair, standing together outside the jazz bar. "you know...just some things..." leehan said, turning away and ignoring the annoyingly curious looks on his friends' faces. "and what things might those be?" minju asked, raising an eyebrow at yn who just shrugged the question away.

"hey, do you have a ride home?" the blonde boy asks the girl beside him, still ignoring their pestering friends. she shook her head, "i was just gonna go with minju to her house and get a cab from there, why?" he smiles, "i have a car, why don't i drop you home?" the girl opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted before she can even utter a word.

"hellooooooo! answer my question!" minju practically yells this time, the boys beside her backing her up with nods. "we told you, we talked about a lot of things!" yn replies, throwing her hands up in the air. "anyways, is it really okay for you to drop me home? i live kind of far" the boy nods, "not a problem at all, but we should get going before it gets too late so...when you lot are done staring at us let us know so we can leave!" he targets the end of his sentence to the group that was still looking at them in absolute disbelief.

"we'll stop staring and let you leave when you tell us what you were talking about before!" sungho whines, hands on his hips. "we talked about things! how many times do we have to tell you? let's go, yn...these guys won't budge" - "well, what things?!" woonhak groans, getting impatient, following behind them as the pair began to walk over to the blonde one's car.

kim leehan just laughs, opening the door on the passenger's side and letting yn ln in. "it doesn't matter...it was just..." he pauses, trying to think of something to say. that's when she butts in, putting an end to their friends' torment.

"it was just...somethin' stupid...that's all!"

the end.

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omg! i haven't written something this lengthy in a while ahhh! this scenario came to me while listening to this song in the car the other day hehe <3 i think it's rlly cute and im a sucker for anything jazz bar romance related lols. hope u guys liked it! love, kona.

tags: @saritahwang

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Alastor x FReader.

CW: angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), bondage, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, edging overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).

(+ aftercare for 'reader')

Forever Bound.

The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.

All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.

You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.

Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.

It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.

As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.

Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.

Your soul attention.

Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.

“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.

Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.

You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.

“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.

You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’. However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.

“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin freezes, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind, he almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.

You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.

You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... if not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer might take it upon himself to eject you... right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.

With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating, “that would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand, you are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.

“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.

To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.

You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.

Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him, paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.

You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.

His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.

“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more. If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.

You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.

“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”

You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it, the sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status, choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.

He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.

Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in there, and just how vast it might be... is it some sort of pocket dimension...

He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again, the warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.

“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again, feeling annoyed at your reaction, but he doesn’t let it show.

You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.

So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.

It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.

Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.

You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.

Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.

You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.

As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.

“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.

Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.

You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.

“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”

“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.

“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”

“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone, he hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.

Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.

Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.

Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”

“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.

Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.

“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”

You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.

“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.

“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.

You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.

However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.

“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.

His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.

“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.

Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.

“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”

He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.

You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.

You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.

Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.

You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”

You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.

He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.

Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.

He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.

He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.

His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.

Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.

Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.

He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.

Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.

His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.

Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.

He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.

His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”

You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you can’t comprehend what he’s talking about.

You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.

“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.

“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”

You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.

“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”

“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.

“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”

“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.

Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.

The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.

He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.

“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment.”

You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?

You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.

“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”

You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.

“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.

“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.

He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.

Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.

He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.

“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.

You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.

He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.

He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even begin unravelling what it signifies.

An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.

“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.

You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”

“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.

“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.

You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.

In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master.”

The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.

SMACK, you cry out in pain as the next strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”

The next he has mercy from you enduring and obeying on the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you Master.”

You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.

You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.

This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.

Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.

“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more, then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”

Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable precipice, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.

You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.

“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.

Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.

Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.

“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.

The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.

“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.

The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.

The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.

He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your arse at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.

“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again.

He sounded utterly euphoric, and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.

Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.

You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me my pretty Doe, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding is the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”

“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.

He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.

You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.

“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.

“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.

“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.

“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.

Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.

You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state of overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly insensible from his continued assault on your senses.

“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.

“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”

You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.

Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.

“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.

“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.

One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down onto you.

“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.

Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.

Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.

The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.

He groans in pleasure at your taste, hip hips rutting forward instinctively.

“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.

“Language darling, no need to be vulgar,” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jolting with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.

“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.

He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.

You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.

He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him.

You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.

“PLEASE!”

You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.

With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.

His hands push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.

Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.

The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.

The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.

He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.

“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more with a stuttered cry for you as he eases you through it again with his toiling cock.

Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.

His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “... Well now, you are a work of art... So weak, so pathetic, so mine... My dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.

His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.

Every pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.

You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.

“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.

Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.

Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.

The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.

Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure as he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.

Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.

Desperately your arms tugs relentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.

You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, they felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like it’s pressed under your tail too.

You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.

“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.

You break.

Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you wail through your third release absolutely bathing him in your squirt, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.

Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.

Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.

Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.

Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.

Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”

There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.

Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.

His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.

Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.

The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.

“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.

Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.

Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle, secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.

The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?

Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.

He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.

He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.

Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.

He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.

“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.

“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”

Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or barkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him...

Forever Bound.

A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜

[stellarbit]

New Arrangements

Word Count: 5.4k Pairing: fem!reader x tech and crosshair, light Tech nods Warnings: NSFW receiving oral, piv, dp, all that good jazz Summary: Tech thinks of a different way to please you, as long as Crosshair is up for it.

This was a request a WHILE ago (ya girl is a slow, anxious writer). And it's been rotting my brain. Working on Part 2 of Two Faces too

“You worry too much.” Crosshair snickered into your ear. You shoved him off with a hard elbow. His voice, that close, sent a rush of irritation and something more exhilarating through your veins.

He chuckled, not deterred, and gripped your chin, playfully tilting your head from side to side. “Keep making that face, and you’ll age faster than us.”

You pushed his hand off, “And you say Wrecker needs to grow up.”

Crosshair let out a low, amused snort. His demeanor was always a blend of mockery and challenge, yet you had learned to navigate these waters.

Meanwhile, Tech observed the interaction from across the campfire. The three of you were on duty, guarding the camp while Wrecker, Echo, and Hunter were away. Your constant inquiries about their safety had invited Crosshair’s teasing, yet Tech appreciated how seamlessly you meshed with his squad. The Jedi Council had assigned you to Clone Force 99 abruptly, a move that often led to friction in established teams. However, whether due to your trained Jedi patience or simply fortune, you had adapted well.

The longer you worked with them, the more comfortable you became. It wasn’t a word Tech would use but, in reality, you were getting attached. 

That is, enough that you were able to coax out Crosshair’s more gentle side - if you could call it that. He interacted with you with a brusque familiarity he reserved for his brothers: never overtly kind, but his jabs lacked real malice. It always piqued Tech’s interest. Lightening Crosshair’s often grim demeanor was no minor achievement, and Tech found this development enjoyable.

 Anything that brought light to Crosshair’s attitude was a rare feat and a welcome one.

It had taken longer than with Crosshair, but you eventually won over Tech’s tolerance as well. As Tech generally had the more focused tasks, the two of you were paired together often. Your role as a Jedi made it easy to guard him while he was engrossed in his work.

Your time paired together allowed you ample time to listen to his rambling, ranting, and info dumping. A habit you initially deemed mind numbing, yet these moments quickly became your favorite parts of the day. Tech, often engaged in some task at hand, grew to find your presence calming as well. 

It seemed that Tech, in his own measured way, cherished your attentiveness. You relished you time with you and he you. Oh, he relished you thoroughly and every single chance he could.

Crosshair pulled on a strand of your hair, “I need to do a perimeter sweep. Keep your senses extended and comm me if you hear anything.” Tech didn’t miss the little flush his brother’s teasing brought you. Crosshair’s task was one that gave you Tech a slim window of opportunity.

Not long after Crosshair departed, you were splayed out on a cot in the tent with Tech between your legs.

“You enjoy it when I speak to you.” Tech said so plainly, as if he wasn’t squeezing three fingers inside you. He pushed them in deep, lowering his mouth to your clit as you whined back at him. He sucked on your bud, licking a few light circles around it, and felt you clamp down around him. Raising himself so that it was only his lips brushing you, he said, “Not being able to please you and speak to you is not the most ideal.”

He wanted to give you so much more, he wanted to push you farther every time. Singing he wished he had a second pair of hands for.

And a thought occurred to him. 

“Tech,” his name was a breathy moan. You squirmed on his fingers, trying to catch his lips on your clit again. “Your voice alone can finish me. Please.” Tech didn’t miss the desperation in your pleaing.

He kept working his fingers into you, further angling his head to watch your expression. The times he spent with you were becoming a game of strategy to him. One that he recorded and re-lived, as often as his little free time allowed. 

“And what is it you want to hear?” He swept a thumb over your clit, still aching for him, and sent an arch through your back.

Knowing he was in the midst of studying you, you threw your arms over your face to deprive him. If you were desperate and wanting, so should he be. “Read me binary code for Force sake. Anything.”

Tech thought he heard frustration in your voice, an unideal outcome considering his intentions. He unhooked the leg you had saddled over his shoulder and settled it beside his hip as he crawled over top of you. He gently moved your arms from your face and repositioned them above your head. Lining himself up with your entrance, he lowered his mouth to your ear. “Right now, I think I’d rather hear what you have to say.” Not making you ache another second, he easily slid inside of you.

It was a quick affair given the high risk of discovery. Tech completely worked you over just by whispering simple observations to you. Things like how you moved, looked, and felt around him. He took you right up to the edge of release, but cut you short. He was throbbing inside you, just as close to his orgasm, when he pulled out. 

Typically, Tech never left you wanting or waiting. He took pride in timing himself in getting you off. This time, if he wanted his idea to succeed, he needed you wanting more.

He grunted, struggling for composure. “Crosshair will be back soon. We should continue later.”

For a moment, you thought you might cry. You were wound so tight the ache was painful. Panting and foggy brained you just nodded along. Clearing your voice you said, “I didn’t know you were so cruel.”

He sat back on his knees, raked his eyes over your body once more, and tapped his goggles to end his recording. “Trust me,” Tech said, extending his hand. “It will be worth the wait.”

Afterwards, while the two of you composed yourselves, Tech gave you a sideways glance.

“Do you?” Tech queried.

“Do I what?” You responded without looking.

  “Do you trust me?”  He asked, stopping your hands as your head tilted in confusion. Surely that was obvious to him.

A second pulsed between you and you leaned over to give his arma squeeze. “With my life.”

Tech pushed, “And you have faith in my skills of observation.”

“Now, you’re just being silly.” You gave him a pat and pushed off the cot to exit. Tech caught your hand, adding weight to his question. For a moment you were stunned, you didn’t know what called for such seriousness. With a smile, you sighed and squeezed his hand. “I have as much faith in you as I do the Force,” you said and bent forward to kiss his hand. 

A barely there smile came to Tech. He sighed and stood with you. “I encourage you to keep that in mind in the future.”

When Crosshair returned you were still fanning the flush from your face. The ache between your legs had hardly subsided.

“Any word from the others?” He asked, setting his gun aside and discarding his helmet.

Tech tapped through his datapad, responding casually. “Negative and I suspect it will take longer now that the suns are setting.” Pausing momentarily, he brought his comm to his face. “Hunter, what is your status?”

It wasn’t immediate, but it was Echo’s voice that came back. “Hunter’s a little… tied up at the moment.” His inflection suggested that might be literal. “We still have a ways to go. Stay with the ship.”

Your head dipped back as you groaned, “That’s not good.” Swallowing your worry, you pushed off your knees to stand up. “In that case, I’ll be back.” 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Crosshair asked as he sat adjacent Tech.

You waved your hand over your shoulder as you walked off. “Just stretching my legs, I’ll be fine.” Stretch your legs and walk out the ache.

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on you, particularly the sway of your hips. He swallowed a groan and looked back to the fire.

Tech, noticing the shift in Crosshair’s demeanor, glanced over his datapad at him, assessing. “Your concern is unwarranted. She will be fine.” He observed Crosshair for a moment longer as he placed a toothpick in his mouth, then ventured into delicate territory. “Is it safe to say you find her attractive?”

Crosshair sputtered, wide eyed he whipped to look at his brother. “Wha- What does that matter to you?”

“Currently—a great deal,” Tech adjusted his goggles, his tone turning investigative. “Are you aware that she and I engage in physical relations?” When Crosshair’s stare intensified, Tech added for clarity, “Frequently.”

Crosshair covered his face with his hand, cursing into his palm. He had noticed the way you gravitated towards Tech and even suspected you’d caught Tech’s attention. Though considering your nature as a Jedi, he imagine you hadn’t acted on anything. It was why he let his teasing border on flirting.

It’s why he let himself fantasize about you.

“Why are we even talking about this?” The sniper groaned, exasperation already showing.

“Because I’m fairly certain she finds you attractive as well, and I have an idea that might benefit all involved. But first, I need to know: have you ever fantasized about her?” Tech’s question was direct, his curiosity unabashed.

Just as you circled back to the camp, Crosshair’s incredulous response pierced the air. “What?” Hearing this, you quickened your pace, pushing through the underbrush to catch an early glimpse of the scene.

When you burst through the final swath of foliage, the camp appeared oddly tranquil. Crosshair was casually leaning against crates on the opposite side of the fire from Tech, who was positioned exactly as you had left him, seemingly immersed in his datapad.

Neither of them said anything as you took a few slow steps towards Tech, still assessing the situation. Crosshair almost seemed like he was pointedly ignoring you. The oddity of it all made you smile curiously.

Sitting next to Tech you leaned over to whisper. “What did you do to piss him off?” Crosshair’s eyes narrowed in on you, a clear sign he’d heard you. 

Tech pulled his datapad away from his face, glancing at Crosshair. “He's not angry,” Tech clarified, setting aside his device completely. “If anything, he's nervous.” When Tech was fully present, more interested in a situation than his research, there was always a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, really?” You chuckled softly, nudging Tech playfully with your elbow. “And what’s got moody over there so nervous?”

Tech gestured his hand you, saying, “Most likely due to the anticipation of your reaction.” 

Confusion briefly crossed your features as you gave a small shake of your head. “My reaction to what?”

Tech adjusted his goggles and cleared his voice, a small glimpse of his own nerves. “To learning I’ve disclosed the nature of our relations to Crosshair.”

Your cheeks went warm and, for a moment, you could only blink at Tech. “Tech.” You said in a cautious tone.

He began again with no hesitation. “Crosshair is now fully aware that you and I are involved.” You opened your mouth only to be met with Tech lifting his finger. “More significantly, I've proposed the idea of him joining us. As I see it, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Mutually beneficial arrangement?” You parrotted a little louder. You were suddenly very aware of Crosshair’s eyes on you. From your peripherals you noticed Crosshair shift his weight off the crates and your mouth went dry.

Tech twisted to face you head on. “The way you and Crosshair interact suggests a mutual attraction and, frankly, seeing him somewhat content is a rarity.” Crosshair scoffed from across the fire, but Tech continued. “I believe expanding our dynamics will prove enjoyable for all parties.”

Your lack of response, brows lowered but eyes wide, caused Tech to pause. A moment of hesitation passed over Tech as he considered the best path forward. His eyes shifted around before honing back in on you. The look in his eyes kept you locked in place as he leaned over and reached across his body to grip your thigh.

Facing away from Crosshair, Tech brought his mouth to your ear. Just for you to hear, he said, “And I believe you would find an evening with the two of us... quite exhilarating.”

Remaining still, your eyes flew to Crosshair. From the distance you were sure he couldn’t have heard Tech, but he was waiting, almost holding his breath, for your response. The ache between your legs bloomed again. Your thighs squeezed together, trapping Tech’s hand between them.

Between Tech’s proximity and Crosshair’s staring you down, you couldn’t hear anything over your own heartbeat. Abruptly, you stood, disentangling yourself from Tech, and nearly stumbled over your makeshift seat. You fanned your face, letting out nervous laughs while your eyes darted between them.

Before you could gather your thoughts to speak, Crosshair’s voice cut through the tension. “Now who’s nervous?” His tone was taunting, yet when you looked at him, your nervousness seemed to have evaporate. Crosshair poised, nearly predatory, as if waiting for a signal to spring into action. Undeniably captivating.

For Crosshair. Seeing you flushed and breathless with excitement brought his fantasies vividly to the forefront of his mind. He raised an eyebrow, his typical smirk softening into something more tender.

“Crosshair?” You managed to say with a small, flattered smile playing on your lips. “You want this?”

After a tense pause, he discarded the toothpick in his mouth and walked around the fire to where you stood beside Tech. With a steady voice Crosshair said, “I.. wouldn’t have agreed to discuss it if I didn’t.”

Eyes blown wide, your heartbeat throbbed between your legs. Holding Crosshair’s gaze a heartbeat longer you looked down at Tech with a nod.

A spark of excitement hit Tech’s eyes. “Excellent.” Tech smiled and pushed off his knees to stand. “In that case-”

You interjected quickly, “Right now.”

“Right now?” Crosshair repeated incredulously.

“That… would be my fault.” Tech walked past you and patted Crosshair on the shoulder. “You two head into the tent, I’ll be in shortly.” Without even having to see your shared confused expression Tech sighed, continuing to walk to the comm station. He clarified, “It would be wise to make sure we are alerted if the others are near.”

A hand settled on your lower back as Crosshair guided you away. “We’ll leave you to it then.” Crosshair said after him. He leaned down, ducking into you as you both crossed the tent’s threshold. As he pushed into you a breathy laugh kissed the skin of you neck. “Should’ve seen your face.”

You tried to shove him off with bump of you hips - a playful move you’d done dozens of times. With his hand still resting on the small of your back the movement slid his hand into place on your waist. 

He remained close, looking down at you and his grip firming on you. “Since when have you…” He started saying but trailed off. He didn’t need to finish, you knew what he was asking.

“Since the day you caught me from falling in the river on Kuat.”

He craned his neck back, a smirk shifting his lips. “Didn’t I then drop you into the river?”

Even just his hand waist sent your heart racing. “It made me laugh,” you replied with a light shrug. Rising onto your tiptoes, you whispered close to his ear, “Or maybe the first time I saw you shooting from one knee.” Settling back onto your heels, you shrugged again, smiling slyly. “I like the way you pose.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, but his amusement was evident as he slipped his hand up to the nape of your neck moving to stand in front of you. Unable to think under the weight of his touch you stepped into his space. 

You opened your mouth but Crosshair’s voice came first, “Don’t even bother asking.”

He wasn’t wrong -you were going to ask him the same thing. Instead, you reached up and gently guided his hand from your neck to your chest, pressing his palm against your heart. When the pace of your heart registered with him you said, “I was going to ask you to kiss me.” 

His eyes widened and it was now Tech’s voice that rang out. “Oh good, at least you're somewhat comfortable.” Crosshair pulled away like you were too hot to touch. “I would not be shy if I were you, Crosshair.” Tech said as he started stripping a few armor plates off. “Otherwise this will not have the desired effect for you.”

Tech stood with the majority of his plating stripped from the waist down. He came to your back, hands slipping in front of you to make quick work of your belt. It clattered to the ground, and your tunics soon followed, each piece of clothing creating a soft thud. 

Crosshair, still only a few feet from you, memorized every newly revealed patch of skin with an intensity that seemed to magnify the air between you.

When you were down to the bandeau, his breath hitched. When Tech released the bandeau, and you were finally exposed to him, a shudder ran through Crosshair. He’d been hard for sometime, but the sight of you now made him painfully harder. He grit his teeth as his cock pushed against his codpiece.

The flush of your chest, heaving in a mesmerizing way, matched your face. Crosshair extended a hand, gently grazing your nipple. Your eyes fluttered at the touch and Tech felt you shiver. 

“You should kiss her.” Tech suggested as he trailed his hands down your sides, over your stomach, and to the buttons of your pants. “You must talk to her.”

Crosshair cupped your breast, running his thumb over your nipple before catching it in a pinch. You took a sharp inhale and Crosshair moved in on your parted lips. He was gentle at first, kissing you slowly and sucking on your lip, but when you moaned into him Crosshair matched the noise and deepened the kiss. He held your face in place moving his lips against you as if he’d rather devour you than breathe.

When he heard the sound of fabric rustling, Crosshair finally eased up. Leaving you panting and leaning into his touch. As Tech kneeled he pulled your pants with him, trailing kisses down your back as he went. 

Crosshair stood back to let you step out of the pile of clothes around you. You were completely bare and squirming where you stood. His eyes roamed your body, snagging between your legs before meeting your gaze again.

Crosshair chuckled and said in a low voice, “I should’ve tossed you in a river much sooner.”

“Not exactly the time, Crosshair.” Tech said as he tugged you towards a cot. Crosshair followed at half the pace. 

Sitting you at the edge of a cot, Tech positioned himself between your knees. He pivoted to look back at Crosshair who kept a distance. “Are you ready?” Tech asked.

Crosshair tipped his head to you. “Aren’t you going to ask her?”

Tech didn’t break eye contact as he took one finger and traced it up over your wet folds. A string of your slick trailed after him as he brought his finger back in front of him. “Oh,” He said as he examined his wet fingers. “I don’t need to ask.”

You hooked a leg over Tech’s shoulder and pulled his attention back to you. “I’m done waiting, Tech.”

Tech shrugged, quipping, “Told you.”

On his knees, Tech leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek and give you access to his goggles. Your finger traced the side of his goggles until you felt a button. A light tap and a soft beep indicated and you were recording. Tech pulled back to press a kiss to your lips. “Thank you, Sarad.” 

He traced a hand from your neck, between your breasts and down to your thigh. Pushing your leg farther to the side Tech tucked his head in close to you and blew air over you. You hadn’t even shivered through the chill yet when Tech took your clit into his mouth. He gave your bud light, fast licks that deepened into slow rolling laps.

You lowered yourself onto your elbows and let your head dip back. You moaned softly, mewling your pleasure as Tech worked you up. He slid two fingers inside and your head snapped back up, eager to watch him work. 

It took you a moment to remember Crosshair’s presence, but when your eyes met Crosshair’s you nearly came on sight. Tech felt you tighten and slowed his rhythm -  you needed to last longer than that. 

“Cross?” You panted, eyes dipping to see if you could spot any sign of his arousal. “Are you…?” You wanted to hear, see, and even feel more of him-  but the words escaped you.

Crosshair never witnessed the look you were giving him, but he knew exactly what you wanted. He took slow steps forward, his hands dropping to the plating below his waist. The first to drop was his codpiece, revealing a large bulge behind his blacks. “Does that answer your question?” He drawled, his eyes caught on Tech’s movements.

“Show her.” Tech said in a momentary breath. He kissed the thigh you had over his shoulder, mumbling into your skin. “She wants to see.”

Crosshair flicked his plating to another cot. His hands gripped into fists a few times before he slipped his blacks out of the way and released his cock. Another burst of excitement rushed through you and Tech immediately eased off. He looked up at you, assessing how far gone you were, steadily curling his two fingers inside you.

Focused on Crosshair’s length, unsurprisingly similar to Tech’s, you bit your lip. “Show me.” You whined, your order sounding like pleading.

Crosshair stepped within reaching distance and did exactly as you asked. His hand slid down his shaft, lightly squeezing at the base and started a slow pace as he watched you quiver under Tech’s touch.

For a while you basked in the high of the two men worshiping you. Tech pushed you to the threshold of release once more before he stopped moving. Pulling your eyes from Crosshair you watched Tech sit back and wipe his palm over his mouth. Gently removing your leg he moved around your side to be face to face with you. 

“Crosshair,” Tech said, brushing a knuckle over your cheek. He leveled a look at his brother and asked, “Are you or are you not going to participate?” Tech moved himself behind you, supporting you between his legs. He left the spot between yours as an open invitation.

Crosshair didn’t hesitate. He kept his eyes on you as he kneeled, hands sliding up your inner thighs. As he settled in, Tech used one hand to circle your breast and the other roamed the rest of your skin in search of sensitivity. “Gently licking her is the best to start.” Tech advised, his eyes consuming every reaction you made.

The sniper dragged his thumb over your pussy, making a noise when your wetness pooled over his finger. Catching your attention, Crosshair smirked and dropped his gaze. He couldn’t stop the moan he made at the first glimpse of how truly aroused you were. His eyes locked with yours again and he lowered himself to you. As he opened his mouth, a whine made it past your lips as you eagerly waited for his touch. When he finally pressed his tongue flat against your entrance he licked the entirety of you and ended with a flick over your clit. 

The pressure he applied felt like electricity shot through you. Your hand flew to his head, gripping through his hair to gently push him back. His mouth was slightly open, his tongue still wet from the taste of you. 

“Gently.” Tech said firmly. He pulled you back to rest against him, your head resting close to where his cock pressed through his blacks.

“She seemed to like it.” Crosshair countered with confidence, pushing out of your light hold to taste you. He ran his tongue over you again, but this time he finished with swirling around your clit. You rested a hand on his head, your thumb mimicking the motion of his tongue. Crosshair hummed at the touch and covered your clit, sucking gently on you until your hips bucked against him.

Meanwhile, Tech rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You do like that,” he pinched slightly harder. “Your chest is flushing and your thighs are quivering - it would seem you are close.”

You admitted to it in a quick hush as your eyes fluttered to look up at Tech. Crosshair’s mouth was faster and more desperate than you were used to, but his gentle pressure was driving you to delirium. Tech watched your eyes gain the familiar glossed over look he constantly sought after. You were indeed close, painfully so.

Writhing under Tech’s touch, you rolled your head to the side and pressed your cheek against the heat of Tech’s cock. You kissed the hard length, then ran your tongue over the fabric separating you. Tech hissed and you felt him throb against you. 

“Ah, not yet.” Tech said, but didn’t pull your mouth away. When you tried twisting to gain more access, he finally moved you away. He looked down at you, angling his head to capture every inch of you. “I have a better idea.”

He said Crosshair’s name, who, recognizing the tone,immediately paused. Crosshair grazed your folds once more before pulling away while Tech slid his arms under you. You were used to Tech guiding you through positions and easily followed his lead until you were straddling him at the end of the cot.

Crosshair came up behind you, nestling his face into your neck. He deeply inhaled you and, on a strained exhale, saddled himself against your backside. You were so focused on the fact that Crosshair’s cock was pressing against you, you didn’t catch Tech pulling away his blacks.

Gazing up at you, Tech let his cock throb for a moment as he savored this view of you - panting, dripping, and blatantly pleased. He held your hip in place as he guided himself to your entrance. When his head glided over your slit, your focus dialed back in on Tech.

You felt the quiver inside you and couldn’t contain the way your hips gyrated in search of Tech. “You must lower yourself slowly.” Tech groaned as you did just that. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, you let out a breathless sound. The way Tech first filled you always took your breath away. This time you weren’t sure if you’d catch your breath. 

Tech pushed up into you, testing your limits, before rolling his hips back and lifting you back up. The two of you moved together like that for a few motions with Crosshair moving against you in tandem. When Tech was completely coated in you and you were adjusted to his size, Tech moved a hand to your back to pull you forward. As you bent with him, Tech kept himself buried inside of you.

He throbbed inside of you, but held you in place. “Crosshair.” He strained to say.

Silence fell over you and Crosshair as you both realized what Tech wanted. Crosshair found you already smiling over your shoulder at him and knew you were going to be the death of him. You were so confident and - “So beautiful.” Crosshair finished his thought out loud.

Another part of him wanted to know just how hard he had to fuck you to wipe that confident smirk clean. He cocked his head and snorted at the thought. Another time.

Crosshair leaned over, spitting on his cock as he began stroking himself again. He gathered his precum and covered the head of his cock in it. Sufficiently wet, Crosshair brought his cock to where Tech sat inside you. He slid his cock up against you and used his thumb to guide himself in. 

Each of you held your breath as Crosshair rocked his hips to slowly, inch by inch, work his was inside. He wasn’t even half way sheathed when you cried out.

Crosshair yanked you up against him. He was worried you were in pain, but was met with blissed out expression. Your leaned back into him, a hand reaching up for his face.

“We’ve hit her G-spot.” Tech explained as he took an exploratory thrust. When he slid back inside you, stretching you out with Crosshair, he felt the tell tale hip thrusts you made when you were about to cum. “Crosshair, hold her still.”

Crosshair fortified his hold on you, taking the moment to bury himself deep inside you. Suspended in the air, you were helpless against Tech’s touch. His thumb found your clit, pressing into you and he starting fucking you from below. 

You and Crosshair moaned in a similar way, both of you at the point of no return. Tech saw the two of you trembling against your pleasure and knew exactly what to do. He gave two hard final thrusts and squeezed your clit between his fingers and you were finished.

Pleasure broke through you, sending your back into an arch and your legs trembling. Crosshair clamped his mouth down on the nape of your neck, while Tech bit his own lip - both of them breaking through their orgasms. The two men shuddered against you and spilled themselves inside you. Cum quickly leaked out of you and down their cocks, acting as lubrication for their final mindless thrusts. They were both spent and basking in the haze of their climaxes.

Their throbbing threatened to push your past your limits, but collapsing back into Crosshair you didn’t think you’d mind even if they did.

The three of you panted for a few moments before you tapped on Crosshair’s arm, a silent request. He left a kiss on your skin as he pulled out of you, cumming spilling after him. The sudden loss of him almost made you pull him back. 

Tech relaxed underneath you. A pleased smile curved his lips and spread when he touched your face. “You were wonderful.” His praise warmed your chest. 

By the time Tech helped you up, Crosshair was already cleaning himself off and retrieving his armor. You blocked his path, hands on your hips, a playful smirk on your lips. “Not even going to help clean up?” Though your tone was light, teasing, you enjoyed prodding him just to see his reaction.

Crosshair responded by placing a toothpick between his lips and tipping your chin up with a finger. His eyes locked onto yours, unswayed by the allure of your body below the neck. “When it is just mine,” he murmured, his voice low and enticing, “I’ll lick you clean myself.” With a tap to your chin, he stepped around you, leaving you slightly agape in his wake.

Tech came over with your garments and a towel, a slight smile playing at his lips as he handed them to you. He then sat back on the cot, his gaze lingering on you as you began to clean up. With a tap of his goggles, he stopped recording. “This will certainly be… interesting to review,” Tech remarked casually as he started to reassemble his armor.

As you wiggled into your pants, you hummed a laugh. “Don’t you mean exhilarating .”

A light blush bloomed over his cheeks. But he pointed a finger at you. “I was not wrong about that.”

“No,” you planted a kiss on the top of his head with a smile. “You were not.”

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues

Years after their divorce, they still act like strangers despite the ties that bind them: parenthood and work. When she wears the blue velvet gown from one of their last happy memories to the hospital gala, Zayne realizes some fires never die. They just burn hotter in the dark. The one where they cave in. Just once.

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, ANGST, kind of implied smut? My goodness, they're a mess. 2023 words.

A/N: I'm back with a fic! I've always wanted to write about Zayne. But true to me being me, of course it had to be angsty. I do have a longer draft exploring their relationship over the years, which I may or may not eventually post (TBD although I've been neck deep in this one for the past week tbh lol), but for now I wanted to post a little something from that world. Enjoy!

You can read on ao3 here

Zayne didn’t want to be here.

Unfortunately, the board of directors had made it clear his presence was non-negotiable. He would have to endure a few hours of pretending to be agreeable, acting like he cared about the donors beyond their wallets. Part of the job, he reminded himself. Part of being chief.

The gala unfolded in predictable monotony: champagne flutes clinking under chandeliers, hollow laughter echoing through the hotel ballroom near the hospital. A snooze fest, according to Zayne. He had dressed in his black tuxedo with a cummerbund and bowtie, all dressed up to the nines for this. He made sure he looked the part: polished, prepared, and ready to coax a few donations out of deep pockets.  An hour in, and he was already dreading every second. Still, he forced himself to make conversation, smile when appropriate, nod like he was listening.

The old Zayne wouldn’t have entertained this kind of nonsense, but he wasn’t the same man he used to be. A lot had changed. One being the way he kept sipping the whiskey from his glass, a habit he’d picked up in the years since she left when he needed something to dull the ache.

And when the giant doors opened again, he felt her before he saw her.

Mona stepped into the room with a kind of grace only she carried. And for a moment, everything else—the live jazz band, the glittering chandeliers, the soft murmur of conversation—faded into an insignificant buzz.

She was midnight incarnate. That’s the only way Zayne could process it. Midnight in a gown cut from velvet, catching the light softly like night sky. Midnight blue, deep enough to drown in. The hem grazed the floor, but the slit rose high enough to reveal the curve of her thigh as she moved slow and deliberate, like she wasn’t trying to be seen but silenced the room anyway.

The sleeves clung to her arms down to her wrists. A string of pearls framed her collarbones, each one catching the light, resting just above the swell of her breasts. He tries not to look, but he can’t.

The back of her dress dipped low—too low, he thought—sliding down the length of her spine until it disappeared just above her hips. He remembered zipping that dress up once, fingers fumbling, her laughter warm in his ear. A reminder of better days.

Mona was stunning. Devastatingly so in the way only she could be: effortless, unbothered, barely trying. Her usual curls were pulled up into a sleek twist with a few soft strands escaping near her temple, her neck exposed and elegant. Her pearl earrings matched the necklace. Simple and classic.

He finds his eyes lowering to her dress again. It had fit her differently once. He remembered her frowning at her reflection, tugging at the fabric. “It’s a little loose,” she’d said. Now it hugged her like it had been made for this version of her. Not the girl he married at twenty-two, but the woman she had become now at thirty—grounded and full. 

The years had softened her in all the right places, and something primal twisted in his gut. Time hadn’t dulled her beauty, but it had deepened it significantly. And he hated himself for staring. For remembering what it felt like to touch her in that dress. To take it off. To lose her. But what he hated the most was how it pulled him straight back to five years ago, a memory he still treasured.

They were in a taxi on their way to a wedding reception, the air cold even inside the car, the city lights painting the windows in streaks of gold. Mona took his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“I have something to tell you,” she said softly.

Zayne turned, expecting hospital gossip or a new study breakthrough. Instead, she pressed his palm to her stomach. He didn’t understand at first, but then she bit her lip, trying not to smile, and something inside him stilled.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered. They had always talked about having children when they were older and maybe in their early thirties, but something about this moment... Zayne never felt more assured that it was the right timing.

She nodded. He immediately kissed her, overwhelmed with joy in the backseat of that taxi. The driver said nothing. The world kept moving. But for Zayne, time stopped.

He exhaled slowly, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. His fingers curled tighter around his glass. Too many memories. Too much.

Across the room, Mona stood with a champagne flute and a polite smile, listening to a man Zayne didn’t recognize. It didn’t matter (but it did). They ran into each other all the time at the hospital, even worked on many cases together. But something about tonight made him look at her a little different; the kind that didn't make him want to look away. All he could do was stare at her, his own guest long forgotten.

Her posture was more deliberate now. Shoulders squared, chin lifted, a smile edged with something practiced. Almost sharp. She wasn’t the same girl who kissed him in the rain outside their first apartment. Not the one who ran a soothing hand down his back when he couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t his anymore. Yet something in him stirred. Slow, familiar, and dangerous.

Mona’s back was pressed against their bedroom door, breath catching as the dress slipped to her hips. Zayne slid his hand beneath the velvet, his mouth tracing fire along her throat.

“Zayne,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders “You’re the one who wore this dress,” he murmured against her skin.

She laughed—bright, unguarded—her head tipping back. “Well, don’t ruin it.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ll try.”

She smelled like jasmine. He breathed her in like home.

Across the ballroom, the man leaned in and said something that made Mona smile. Not a wide one, but the one he knew she made when she was trying to act like she wasn't impressed. Zayne knew that smile. The way she tilted her head slightly. How her eyes flicked down before meeting the other person’s again. It was the smile she used to give him.

Zayne finished his drink. It burned going down, but not enough.

He shouldn't have been watching her like this. Not like she still belonged to him, like every memory wasn’t already etched into the back of his mind like a scar he couldn’t stop picking at. But there she was, smiling like it never ached, like she hadn’t once screamed at him in the kitchen as their infant cried in his hold, hadn’t packed her things in silence while he sat on the floor and said nothing, hadn’t looked at him that last morning, eyes full of hurt, and said, “I can't do this anymore.”

He hated how easily she wore elegance now. You could never tell that she had once been the girl in his sweater falling asleep at the library table with a pen in her hand and three textbooks open beside her. Or the girl who was so overwhelmed the first time they had kissed he could feel heat radiate off of her. He hated that she looked happy, or at least composed. But Mona had always been good at tucking her emotions beneath the surface until they boiled over, and Zayne had been the one to learn that the hard way.

Her hand brushed the man’s arm. It was light and barely there. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it meant everything. He shouldn’t have cared, but he did.

And just when he was about to look away—when he told himself to stop and move on—Mona glanced up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Her gaze didn’t widen. Her mouth didn’t twitch. She just looked at him, calm and unreadable, like they were strangers meeting for the first time.

Then she turned back to the man beside her, said something and smiled again. And Zayne felt his stomach sink. Because even now, after everything, he still selfishly wanted her to look at him like she used to.

He didn’t stay long after that. Made some excuse to the attending beside him; something about an early shift or prep rounds, though they both knew it was bullshit. He just needed to leave. Needed to stop looking at her like he was still hers to ruin.

He didn’t remember walking to his car. Just the cold night air, the thud of his shoes on pavement, and the weight in his chest that refused to lift. By the time he hit the freeway, lights streaking past in a blur, he told himself he’d outrun it.

But she knocked on his door sometime past midnight.

He almost didn’t answer. Just stood there, heart pounding, staring through the peephole. She was still in the same dress. Dark velvet adorning her curves, hair a little messier now, heels dangling from one hand. And her eyes, soft in the way they only were when she was about to lie beside him. Or when she was about to say goodbye for the day.

No pretense. No shield. Just Mona.

He let her in without a word.

They didn’t talk. Not with Amara sleeping quietly in the room next door. The last thing they wanted was to answer questions on why Mama was at Daddy’s house when she had already fallen comfortably into the pattern they had now, where every Wednesday she goes to Daddy’s house and every Sunday Mama picks her up from Daddy’s office, although her own was only a floor above in the same building. They didn’t speak about the man she’d been with, or the whiskey still clinging to his breath. She moved towards him slowly, like she expected him to stop her. But he didn’t.

When she kissed him—hesitant, then certain—it felt like coming up for air after drowning underwater too long. They didn’t sleep much. But they did, eventually. Bodies and hearts tangled in silence and regrets they couldn’t count, in a bed that was once too familiar. 

She had left before sunrise without a word. Only a soft kiss to his temple and one last lingering look before she headed for the door.

The next morning, Zayne returned to routine. He made sandwiches the way Amara liked them, packed her sketchbook, and double-checked that the bento boxes were ready for their picnic by the park.

He wasn’t thinking about the night before. Or at least, he tried not to. That was until Amara caught something in her hands.

“Daddy?”

He looked up from the lunchbox. She was held up his tuxedo jacket, bunched awkwardly in her small fists. “Why is this here?”

Zayne blinked. The jacket had been left draped over the sofa last night, discarded in the blur of frantic hands and breathless kisses and everything he didn’t want to explain.

He opened his mouth, but she was already pressing her nose into the fabric. “It smells really nice,” she said. “Like flowers.” His stomach turned.

Amara frowned thoughtfully, sniffing again. “Like jasmine. Did you go to Mama’s house?” 

Zayne stared at her. She was a carbon copy of him, save for Mona's thick lips and curly hair. He couldn't get past the innocent curiosity in her voice and the way she held the lapel like it held answers.

He swallowed and forced a smile.

“No, just a garden,” he lied.

Amara shrugged and dropped it back onto the couch. “You should put it in the laundry. There’s glitter on the top.”

The memory came again. Mona’s lipstick staining his tuxedo, trying to quiet her moans as his hands pleasured her like it was muscle memory.

He let out a quiet laugh, barely holding it together. “Yeah. Probably should.”

But he didn’t. He folded the jacket carefully, smoothing the crease down the front, and set it aside like it was a sacred relic. Like it meant more than it should.

Because maybe it still did.

A/N: And there we have it. Please do let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you'd like to read more healthy dynamics (lol) and love Sylus, check out my master list here. Have a great day/night, and thank you for reading!

[half-an-hour-hence]

Even more Deathbit headcanons (request by @olix97)

- Remy’s scars annoyed him. Beyond all rationale. He cried over them every day for the first month and a half after he returned to the mansion. It takes him a long time to accept that they’re a part of him, and to stop any attempts to find a way to get rid of them.

- When sleeping alone, he can’t sleep without a static filled radio station. It plays something like jazz, with interludes of white noise and someone’s voice - soft and far away, like a dream. Sometimes he thinks he’s hallucinating, because no one else in the mansion is able to tune in.

- When his first birthday since becoming Death rolled around, Remy forgot how old he was until someone reminded him. He felt older.

- Remy develops a superstition about walking through doorways first. It’s a very strange habit to have as a thief, and it stops slowly with time. But for the first few months, he’d insist someone else walk through the door before he did if he had company. Something nagged at him about Death not waiting for permission, for strolling right on through and doing what he pleased. Remy supposed it was about forcing himself to prove that he’d changed. Whether that was something he felt had to prove to himself or the others remains unclear.

- Ororo insists that he picks up some of her habits when he seems in a better mental state. She comes to wake him up early in the morning when he’s alone, and they go on walks around the estate (with Jean on occasion too). She also helps him pick up gardening. He’s shockingly bad at it, but he’s trying hard to move on, and that’s all that Ororo really cares about. Even if he does accidentally kill three of her favourite plants.

- Furthermore, Remy goes to Kurt for support. Not that he’s converting to Catholicism, but just for tips on keeping calm and meditation, which Remy ends up doing at least once every day, in the morning or the evening.

- Starts enjoying shopping more. He’ll go to the mall every other weekend and come back with a bunch of stuff he needs and a bunch of stuff he doesn’t. It makes him feel human again. Although he’s been told to stay away from Pop Mart because the figures are taking up too much space.

- When Rogue sleeps in his room or vice versa, they wake up early to talk. Rogue doesn’t normally wake up before noon on lazy days, but Remy’s night terrors tend to rip her away from dreamland. Before going down for coffee, they’ll talk about Death. It started as a stupid pact, but it became more serious once Rogue realised how much Remy needed to vent. And when she gains some control over her abilities, he even lets her touch his scars. The reason why he grows to accept them? Her, reassuring him that he’s still beautiful, that the past is the past, and her love for him is irrefutable despite what happened.

I liked doing these ones.

[theangrycomet-art]

little warmup doodles with @paradimeart's criminally adorable Orbabies concept/au.

a couple of headcannons into play here and i'm gonna be a bit loose and wild with explanations so here we go-

a) Jazz hums to himself a lot, a specific tune if you listen closely long enough. This makes him a bit of a protorb magnet in general, but also makes him very good at settling them down.

b) Moonracer's protorb batch was a more experiment bit of coding from the Vector Sigma. Blurr was a part of this batch. This unfortunately led to more issues for the bots of this batch, specifically overcharged sparks. Long story short, their sparks are "too big" for their little forms, forcing their body to try and find other outlets. (the stress from a spark being overcharged for a long period of time leads to yellow optics, as opposed to the typical blue)

In Blurr's case, he was able to address this at a young by burning off the excess energy via his speed. In Moonracer's case, her spark developed her anti-gravity regulator. However, many protorbs went offline due to being unable to find an outlet and burning themselves out.

c) Moonracer was an absolute MENACE as a protorb/protomech, between her having 0 control of her anti-gravity regulator and her overcharged spark making her more prone to meltdowns.

With all these factors, Moonorb was loosely assigned to Jazz's care for a while. Here she picked up his humming habit, adding her own chirps and whirs to the tune.

She still has a humming habit, much to her peers often irritation.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

[princessvisionary101]

💘❤️‍🩹 Nuada x Disowned Human Princess reader who her parents and her sister neglect her.

Part 2 of ?

Summary: Your father wants your older sister to be the perfect queen to the Bethmoora clan. Your sister wants everything to be perfect for her. Your mother never wanted anything much. You however, want to know why your sister’s dream guy, or elf in that matter, wants your attention and your presence to himself.

@meowiemari @ccruzmoon @kitty-chan33 @ozzyynka @helios-dios-del-sol @fictional-hooman @philiasoul @bluebear142077 @personofyou @shiranai-atsune @all—that—jazz @ynskywalker1 @izzyshima @cora-witch @moodyblueberrytree @ajourneytobeweightless @the-lonely-abyss

Part 2 my people! Let’s make this a good one!

While you two were walking in the hallways of the palace, you wondered if you could find many books about the Bethmoora clan.

Now don’t get it wrong, you didn’t want to learn the Bethmoora clan’s history because of some strategy or something to use against them, but learning more about other beings than just other humans was enough to dream about exploring the outside world.

Ϛ⃘๑•͡ .̫•๑꒜ℒℴѵℯ❤

Seems as though the advisor was a little concerned about what you were thinking. Probably curious instead since it’s been a long while since anyone showed pi Now don’t get it wrong, you didn’t want to learn the Bethmoora clan’s history because of some strategy or something to use against them, but learning more about other beings than just other humans was enough to dream about exploring the outside world. Who could blame him since he is the one who was technically force to guide you somewhere away from the important “royal meeting”.

“So your highness” he started but you hold up your hand quickly. “If you want you can just call me (y/n). Everyone back home usually doesn’t say your highness only for specific reasons.” You said before walking a little faster to catch up to him. “Oh? A may I ask why do you receive disrespectful treatment as though your title does not exist? Surely your parents must be furious about this sort of mishap with the servants I presume?”

You looked down while walking a little slower than usual. He had to slow down a bit to see your frown better.

“No I’m sorry.” You said while looking up at him with a small smile. “The clan may have seem to have good respect to their king and his children, but mine do not serve the same purpose but just to fetch me food and books from the library.”

“Ah I see then.” He stops in front of the library doors and turns to you in a look you can’t recognize. “Then please forgive me if I seem to have been shown to displease you in any way.” “Oh! Not at all!” You said waving yours hands in front of you while trying to choose your words carefully. “You were great help to me and great company as well! Thank you for showing me where the library will be at.” You both bow before he leaves and you went inside the room where still the knowledge you wanted to see can be found.

The library was very quiet and looks to be taken care of just like yours from back home. It seems as though it was used a lot , account of the books piled up on the tables and the many shelves that look almost like you were in a maze. It was messy, but it made you felt at home with the place you leave through the books filled with fantasy, drama, romance and surprises at every corner in every page.

And speaking of surprises in every corner-

“Can I help you human?” A baritone voice said that sounded more of a command then a question. You turned around and spot a elf with long white hair and a frown that makes it obvious you weren’t welcomed here.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding you sir.” You bowed with your head hung low. You never got over the habit of apologizing to many people who deemed you as a nuisance. You have your sister to thank for that. “My name is Princess y/n and I am here to spend my time here while my family finishes a meeting. I’m very sorry again for intruding.”

You couldn’t tell if he was upset at you or looking at you at all since you still had your head hung low. Maybe he’s wondering what kind of Princess “hung her head low to a elf no less?”

Huh…he thought so too.

“We’ll I’m not allowed to join them while they discuss about important matters, especially with the king of your clan.” You responded, having no trouble sounding more reserved towards the gentleman who didn’t seem to be displeased at your presence nor didn’t seem to want to dismiss you from the library.

“Very well then,” he says sitting down at the chair across from you while you raise your head and see him walk to the table you are occupying and picks up a book from the table, “then I’ll just continue reading from this book while you bid your time reading from the others. I do recommend though that you don’t cause any disturbance that might upset the librarian.”

He states right before glaring at you with a very look of distrust. You can’t seem to read him that well. He doesn’t seem to have any problems with you staying but he also seems to be annoyed with you around. It’s a continual battle of whether to please him by departing and finding a new place to spend you time or just to stay and be quiet. Since technically you don’t know the place well, it shouldn’t hurt to stay quiet and just find a book to read; especially since he seems to already look irritated by just feeling your presence.

“Alright” You responded, “but I do really mean it about me leaving the room if I’m bothering you sir.” you then pick up a random book from the nearest shelf and start to read. He glances up at you before continuing to read his book.

You both end up reading in silence while the sun was shifting from the afternoon to later mid-day. You would occasionally pick a different book when you finished yours and start reading with a small smile upon your face. It seemed like forever ago when you would go to your library and read books that had questions that you wish to know. For example, you were curious about how pirates act nowadays or if there was really a treasure island for pirates to roam and search of.

While you were busy reading a plot twist in your book, you failed to sense a pair of eyes watching you from time to time when you scrunch up your nose or when your eyebrows furrow during a chapter of the story.

Once you found a stopping point, you raise your head to see those pair of eyes looking at you from across the table. It freaks you out at first because usually the looks you get are either in disgust or in denial of your heritage of your family. In this case, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking of what he felt about you.

“May I ask why you are staring at me sir?”

He closes his book and lays it on top of the table before he crosses his arm on top of them.

“Why aren’t you with your family in the dining room discussing with the king? Normally, most humans are with him trying to have an alliance with our people, especially princesses who generally aren’t found in a library to waste an hour.”

You looked down embarrassed by his remark targeted to you, well it would sound so, and closed your book so that you can try to focus on this elf man across from the table.

“Well for starters sir, my family have always left me out of their conversations, especially when they go on their outings when they have time to get together. I do try to talk to my maids or the butlers, but most of the time I see their displeasure in talking to me. This led me to see that I don’t fit into anyone’s expectations of a good daughter or a great princess in their eyes.”

You looked at him and was surprised that he seemed to pay attention to your words. How long ago did someone look at you and listened that same way this librarian was?

“And are you ok with the way you are treated? It doesn’t sound like you enjoy feeling ignored or disrespected by others, including your own servants whom you have the control over if I’m correct.”

“Maybe so” You responded with a genuine smile at him, “but I rather someone talk to me or like me not because they have to, but because they desire to do so.”

Before he could respond, a servant walks to him and whispers in his ear in the language you couldn’t understand before seeing that he probably is about to leave you alone. He walks with the other elf, and they start to chatter behind your back. It seemed suspicious since the servant kept glancing at you from time to time and the man would have a small frown every now and then. Their conversation probably isn’t a good one you thought. He comes back and takes the books he had in his arms, and you already notice that it’s a sign that he is about to leave.

“Oh! Are you needed elsewhere sir? I’m sorry to take much of your time if you were supposed to leave soon!” You stand up but he stops you before you did anything else strange.

“It is nothing that you should worry about, but yes, I am needed somewhere. However, my servant also told me that the meeting is done, and you are asked to meet your family at the dining room where the king is at.” He gives his servant the small stacks of books for them to put away before strolling over to you with his hand extended in your direction. You got confused for a bit until he chose to grab your hand and leave a gentle kiss on your palm. You never felt so flustered at the fact that a man, let alone a prince had left the touch of his lips linger on your hand before raising his head at your level.

“I hope you have a wonderful time here in the library and I would like to extend my gratitude for your honesty and kindness.” He then leaves you alone at the table, feeling bewildered at his change of attitude, and you start to wonder if what you said to him made him had a different view towards you. You don’t think about it even when you walk out of the library doors, and you hope that the way he talked to you wouldn’t be the last time someone treated you that way. It has been forever since someone didn’t mind your presence.

You’ll probably come to regret that thought once you realize what you’re really in for.

(Hello! Thank you so much for reading chapter 2 of the disowned princess reader x prince nuada silverlance. Now to keep my message short, I have been busy trying to work but currently I've been fired since I couldn't work full time and now I got time to myself :3 I also just started college, but since I got less homework, I will be trying to make more fanfics on this blog, including trying to finish this series which I come to enjoy.

I thank you all for enjoying the first chapter and I hope that ya'll continue to read and share my fanfic by reblogging it! See all of you soon and have a wonderful day!)

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: Songfics!

Welcome to the first list of the Based On Bonanza! We have nine nifty fics full of love, creativity, and music -- please dive in! In addition to reblogging the fic posts for these, I also have a CRAPTON of fic posts from various past songfic events that I'll also be reblogging alongside these, because there are so many good ones and I truly cannot ever have enough.

As always -- like, comment, kudos, reblog, bookmark, share, and all that jazz.

Just Tell Me the Song and I'll Sing It by myownspark/@myownsparknow (39919, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis is an architecture student who can only think about the future. Harry is a baseball player who can only think about right now. Both are lonely for different reasons. Boybands bring them together.

Reccer says: This fic is so beautifully written and really weaves the songs used into having such meaning for the story. Truly one of my favorite fics I've ever read.

write this down by Sunflouwerhabit /@sunflouwerhabit (233196, General, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles) – fic post

“He can’t hear Harry say he’s proud of him when he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see him again after this week. 'I miss you,' Harry murmurs, his breaths warm and equally shaky. 'All the time.' Louis kisses him harder." ~~~ Harry leaves his hometown to find himself. Every road he takes has a single, fated destination. Inspired by Taylor swift’s tis the damn season.

Reccer says: This is the first fic that broke my heart, repeatedly, every chapter. That said, it’s impeccable in its heartbreak.

Halloween by SomeDovesFly/@somedovesfly (59444, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson ) – fic post

Follow Harry and Louis through 6 Halloweens in a sex, drugs, and rock and roll AU in a time before cellphones or internet. Inspired by Halloween by Noah Kahan

Reccer says: This fic really digs in to both the fun and the darkness that is halloween…and growing up and apart.

to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by beardyboyzx/@beardyboyzx (1000, General, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik) – fic post

a series of moments of realization, where Niall looks at Zayn and thinks -- oh.

Reccer says: soft, sweet, simple. I love the little moments sometimes, quiet and unremarkable and yet so full of meaning and love

Carry These Feelings by LadyLondonderry /@londonfoginacup (3000, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry he has a bad habit of using Faerie magic to keep his soulmate youthful

Reccer says: I love how much worldbuilding is captured in such a small little story, and the unexpected way in which the song and the lyrics were used

i still wanna dance with you by justanothershadeofblue/@justanothershadeofblue (7000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: Homophobia from several characters, including one incident of physical abuse

Harry has always been unapologetically himself, even when the entire world seems to be trying to change him. Louis wants to be more like him, wants to be brave, wants to love who he is as much as he loves who Harry is.

Reccer says: All the characters feel so whole and human -- they're all flawed, but also have good features, and seeing how those balance (or not) to different people. You can see the way love and acceptance and fear shape the characters in different ways. Louis is braver than he thinks.

Might've Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry/@loveislarryislove (21000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis and Harry were high school sweethearts, but they broke up after they went away to university. Two years later, when Harry comes back for summer break, Louis is forced to admit that he hasn't moved on. And despite all his doubts and fears that they just can't hack it long term, Harry is pretty fucking sure they can.

Reccer says: I love the conversations Louis has, with Zayn and with Gemma, basically beating a sense of self-worth and belief that good things can happen back into him

sunshine, baby! by staybeautiful/@harruandlou (106500, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis is in his first year of law school, Harry is a junior on the swim team dreaming of the Olympics, and they both agree that they don't have time for anything more than friends with benefits... right?

Reccer says: Adorable instant attraction, great descriptions, fun Easter eggs

Like a Sour Diesel, She Burns by larry-hiatus /@emilarry (9620, Explicit, Harry Styles/Zayn Malik) – fic post

Zayn and Harry have a complicated past, but Zayn still goes to see him at the strip club where Harry works.

Reccer says: Colorful descriptions, teasing banter, emotional pining, forbidden love

[twoheadedboyyyy]

Culkin! boys dating headcannons

GN! reader, writing about the characters, not rory himself!!! SFW

Ollie Sway

-Ollie is an old soul, and this definitely shows when dating him. Late nights with Ollie would entail wine drunk ramblings about whatever jazz vinyl was playing from his record player, ending with you both stumbling to bed waking everyone else in the house.

-You & Ollie would 100% share clothes, especially because Ollie loves seeing you wearing his shirts and jumpers all the time. He finds it as a symbol of your love for him, aswell as showing everyone you were together.

-Ollie is definitely a picnic man, he'd love to take you out on the boat and sail until you both came across a spot you liked. Although this wouldn't always be the best plan since Nikolai's precious boat was known to stall, which has resulted in the both of you being stranded on the shore a few times in the past.

Jack Thurlowe

-Dating jack can be tough at times due to how he conveys his emotions.

-Jack gets alot of writers block, especially when he's struggling emotionally so he'll tend to come to you for help with his next article, even if you have no knowledge of current events he'd always seek your input.

-You always fall asleep first, no matter how tired Jack is he will force himself awake to watch over you. Once you're asleep he takes his time to reflect on his life, current or past, whilst smoking out of a nearby window.

-when Jack comes home from a long day at work all he wants to do is curl up with you in the living room watching your favourite old movies until you both fall asleep.

Gabriel ml <3

-I like to imagine Gabriel came across you at the diner, and after one conversation you were his new obsession.

-He'd be so gentle towards you all the time, but you always have to be aware of how quickly Gabes mental state can shift.

-Yet Gabriels most effective grounding method is definitely just holding you in his arms whilst you try to calm him, softly whispering praises into his ear.

-If you owned an apartment with a garden or some kind of outdoor space, he would appreciate your efforts to make it suit Gabriels smoking habits no matter if you did it aswell. He'd love if you smoked with him, seeing it as the perfect way to calm his nerves; with nicotine and his darling at his side.

[Sorry if any of these are a bit out of character, but once I see more culkin characters I might consider a p2]

This is not proofread 🙏

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 6- from the top of my lungs

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

"I step out outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs, 'What's going on?!'" - What's Up? by 4 Non Blondes

Masterlist Part 5

It was probably hypocritical of Danny to lecture Jazz about taking up a vigilante role around their new haunt when he himself couldn’t resist the instinctual urge to give the local breed of stupidity a beatdown. 

If anything, it was a good way to get back into shape.

(Danny’s not fooling anyone, he’s a twink.) (A ghouly goopy ghostly one, but still a twink.)

Danny argued that he had more experience with vigilantism than Jazz, when she’d taken up a support role even after training. Sure, her aim has gotten so much better with practice, but Jazz was only a liminal. 

(A highly ecto-contaminted liminal with a scary sword that can cut through reality to create portals that currently does his kingly paperwork for him.)

At least he could comfort himself with the knowledge that Jazz was trained by the frightening and awe-inspring Pandora of the Infinite Realms Acropolis, bearing her own gifted Bracelets of Submission as a symbol of respect from one woman to another. 

(Jazz and Pandora sparring made the Boy King eternally grateful to be on the good side of both women.) 

(Scary was an understatement.) 

(No wonder Jazz and Sam got along so well.)

(Batman and Wonder Woman were supposedly friends, being founders of the Justice League and all.)

Gotham was all kinds of batshit crazy when the sun went down.

(pun recognized and intended.)

A dumb statement for any Gothamite, but newcomers to the city never really got it until the were robbed at gunpoint within five minutes of sunset. 

That wasn’t really a concern for Danny, he’s gotten into the habit of phasing his important items into his body for safe keeping, but his increased need to do something made his late night walks morph into something that vaguely resembled his Witching Hours patrols back in Amity. Midnight to three am, strictly rooftops without too much barrier crossing into Hood’s territory were now fully integrated into the Halfa’s life- the purring of his core when he protected someone was healing something inside him he hadn’t realized was sick. 

(Lies.)

Without the Red Hood to manage his Haunt, the Boy King and Regent had brute forced their way passed the boundary line to help the once-Revenant’s people until the one in question could do it himself. The habitants of Crime Alley were hesistant at first to accept more vigilantes into their midst, especially one that was obviously a meta with a concerning range of physical abilites, but with the Regent’s quiet strength and Phantom’s quirky attitude they were begrudgingly allowed to continue. 

(If Phantom also used his ice manipulation to help stablilize dilapidated buildings being used as shelter for the upcoming winter, then all the better.) 

The Regent had been caught in the Bat’s territory more recently, much to Danny’s worry. Jazz could no doubt break the furry over her knee, Danny had seen her do it to Skulker of all people, but drawing the ire of the big bat was the opposite of ideal. Batman’s Stabby Robin might even try to challenge Jazz for her Ecto-sword, which was both hilarious to imagine and panic-inducing, because stabby Robin was stabby. 

After the early morning chat with the Signal, Danny had come to a decision regarding the leather clad crime lord furry and his flock of birdies- step up as the Boy King and request Batman’s help in riding the Realms of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Jazz already did so much as his Regent, he could at least get the ball rolling on this. 

In order to begin, he had a sad trenchcoat man to call. 

“Bloody Hell, Phantom!” 

The Phantom, in his original jumpsuit rather than the admittedly awesome Star King regalia, grinned with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Closer to a snarl, but whatever. 

“Sad trenchcoat man! Just the guy I wanted to see.” 

Danny knew the guy’s name, hard not to when he’d seen the three floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets in Jazz’s office dedicated to the Laughing Magician alone, but the halfa was nothing if not dedicated to the bit. 

When he’d sensed Constantine’s magic at work, he’d hijacked the summoning circle for his own use- suck it, a king trumps whatever entity Constantine was trying to get and Danny was less likely to want his soul in return for a favor. 

(Did it really count when he’d already gifted the glued together pieces of the guy’s soul to Jazz as a paperweight?) 

“Phantom, lad, why’re you here?”

The Ghost boy huffed a laugh, the building annoyance in the air just from his presence was fueling his life force. 

“What, can’t say hi to a friend now? After all the work I did to stop that demon from coming instead too.” 

(Lies.) (The summoning had been for an observant, but those bastard eyebags can eat a dick for all he cared.)

“Demon?” Constantine’s voice cracked with surprise, gaze flickering over the runes he’d lazily copied from a book. 

“Yep.” 

“Constantine.” A growl interrupted whatever comeback the Magician could have conjured, with the shadows of the darkened room parting to allow the Dark Knight himself to step through. “There is no time.” 

“Aye, Batsy.” The brit turned back to Phantom, an edge of desperation now coloring the annoyance the ghost had brought. “Phantom, I need a favor.” 

Phantom blinked. 

“Uh, sure dude?” 

“Constantine.” Batman interrupted again, but the sad trenchcoat man waved him off.

“Your people been wreckin’ government buildings and the bloody USA is throwing a fit.” 

Government buildings? Phantom’s people? The GIW? 

Could his luck really be in his favor this time? After all, here was Batman, and the sad trenchcoat man who could verify that Phantom was a spirit of protection and not one of vengeance. 

(He left that to the Regent.)

“If that’s the case, then there is nothing I can do.” 

(He would be right there with his people. What’s a few more buildings destroyed to free the innocent ghosts trapped within?) 

“Whot?” 

Phantom crossed his arms, allowing gravity to bring him to the floor where he stood at his full height. Unintimidating was one word for it, but he couldn’t really care less at the moment. 

“The GIW have committed acts of War against the Infinite Realms, Constantine. It’s only thanks to the Regent and Future King that this Living Realm hasn’t been claimed by the Unquiet Dead.” 

It was true. Jazz was the best Regent Danny could’ve ever gotten. She was liminal enough to understand that the Denziens of the Realms were not inherently malicious, but human enough to realize that she too would be afraid of the ghosts if she hadn’t been raised around the dead and (un)dying.

It was only thanks to that fine line she walked that Phantom wasn’t to join the Unquiet Dead and Neverborn as they descended onto the Living with the fury of thousand suns. 

Danny, while a half-ghost, had died unlike his big sister. Sure he was brought back by Ectoplasm, but he had only returned halfway and that part of him was chomping at the bit to avenge those who were ended that he couldn’t protect. 

“Here.” Phantom shallowly intoned as he pulled a flash drive from his chest, thrown to the big bat. “That contains all collected information the Regent was comfortable sharing with the Living. Share it with your league and get the Acts demolished, Batman.” 

Phantom sighed heavily, shoulders drooping as he finished in a tired voice, “Please. I don’t want to fight. Please don’t make me go to war.” 

Was he trying to tug on the Bat’s heartstrings? Yes. Was he being honest in not wanting to got to war? Also yes. 

“War?” 

“Yeah, all denziens of the Realms would have to fight. We’re all effected by the Acts, even if we don’t want to hurt anyone we’d have to…for our right to exist.” Phantom replied lowly. “I’m a spirit of protection, I don’t want to hurt the innocent.” 

(It was a truth he had come to terms with, after his sister killed their parents.)

(He died wanting to be loved and protected by the adults who claimed to be his parents, but it had been Jazz that raised him.) 

(She avenged him twice over.)

(She gave him a grave.)

A/N: No Hardcover/Anger Management ship content this time, just lore for this world I'm building.

And look, Sad trenchcoat man!

Song quotes are from the same songs on my Jazz/Jason playlist. Typically the song that started playing when I get ready to post this.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 12/?

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Shit like this wasn’t supposed to happen in small towns. Yet here he was, in the middle of an armed robbery. The two men had a handgun each and were waving them around. Jason thought Canada had stricter gun laws, for God’s sake. Jason hid Danny behind his body and thanked whatever little luck he had that Jazz, and Ellie had stayed home.

And all because Jason had wanted some ice cream.

“Nobody be a hero. Give me the money, bitch!”

One man pointed the gun at the poor cashier, who looked close to tears, and the other pointed it at the three customers in the little convenience store.

Usually, Jason would be the first to jump into action, but he had Danny to think about now. Said kid pulled on Jason’s shirt and asked in a low voice, “Daddy, aren’t we gonna do something?”

“No, we’re gonna stay behind these shelves and let the proper authorities deal with it,” Jason whispered.

Danny actually pouted, pouted!

“But daddy, we have to help!”

Jason got Danny and held him close to his chest. Jason got on the floor and made himself small. He didn’t want attention on them and wanted to stop Danny from playing hero.

He should’ve remembered Danny had been one before, and he had powers. His son, his precious baby boy, turned invisible and intangible. Jason just about had a heart attack. Jason couldn’t risk calling out for Danny because that would draw attention to him.

The men were about to leave when they crashed into something invisible.

(If Jason squinted, he could just make out a green force field.)

Suddenly, both men’s pants fell to the floor, and when they looked down, distracted, both guns were knocked out of their hands and landed in front of Jason. Jason got one gun and pointed the other one at the men.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. Both men held up their hands and dropped the money. Jason watched as shoelaces were untied and then tied together to one another. The men got scared and tried to run when they heard police sirens, but they fell.

Jason heard a giggle at his side and watched his son return to the visible spectrum.

He sighed; it seemed he had to have a long talk with Danny.

____

Danny pouted in the back seat as Jason lectured him.

They ended up held up for only under an hour after the armed robbery attempt. It was a small town, and everyone knew everyone. The cashier and the other three customers in the store knew that the two robbers were Donnie and Tanner Evans, two brothers who were always getting into trouble.

How those two idiots thought they would be able to get away with it, Jason didn’t know. At least in Gotham, the city was big enough for idiots to get away with robbing small convenience stores.

Jason sighed; how did this even happen to him?

It’s because he had shit luck, that’s why. And now his son was mad at him for not playing vigilante and lecturing him for playing hero.

“I’m serious, Danny. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“But I didn’t! What do you want, dad, for me to let others get hurt?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean—look, Danny, you’re too young to make these decisions.”

Danny glared, his eyes turning Lazarus Pit green. (Jason ignored his eyes glowing in response to Danny’s anger.)

“Look, Danny, I’m not mad. I was worried. I’m disappointed you didn’t listen to me,” Danny interrupted.

“Everyone knows that’s worse than anger!”

“You need to listen to what I say. You can’t put yourself in danger that way.”

“Like you’ve never put yourself in danger,” his precious, precious son mumbled, “you used to be a vigilante.”

Jason wished he had Alfie. How did he put up with their danger-seeking habits? It was a miracle the butler was still alive because Jason felt like his heart was trying to leave his body through his chest.

“Wait till I tell your sister about this.”

“Ha! Jazz encourages my heroism! You lose.”

“We’ll see.”

____

“What were you thinking, Daniel James Fenton?”

Danny watched as his daddy smirked at him, pleased. Jazz, the traitor, continued to scream at him.

“But Jazzie,” he whined, “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

Jazz pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Danny, we aren’t in Amity Park anymore. We’re trying to keep a low profile, and, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re like three years old!”

“I’m sixteen in the body of a five-year-old! And you can’t tell me what to do; you’re not mom!”

Danny regretted saying that as soon as Jazz’s face fell.

“Danny, apologize to your sister,” his dad barked out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “it just came out.”

Jazz took a deep breath and continued, “I accept your apology, but Danny, you must be more careful. What if the cameras caught you?”

His dad had automatically hacked the convenience store’s cameras and found out that only one worked, and it was pointed at the entrance. Thankfully, it hadn’t captured Danny using his powers.

“Look, lad, like I said, I’m not mad, but you have to be careful when and where to use your powers. If I tell you not to, you don’t. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good, now, you’re grounded. No going outside for two days and no ice cream, either.”

“Aw, man, why daddy?”

“You disobeyed a direct order, that’s why.”

Danny pouted, and Jason had to harden his heart. Danny got off the chair and started going to his room.

“Danny lad, wait.”

Danny turned.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, I can feel it.”

“Good,” Jason kissed Danny’s forehead. “You scared me today.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t lose you, lad.”

Danny hugged his dad and let waves of love and reassurance hit the man. He might be disappointed that he was grounded, but Danny knew how much he had scared his dad. So, he would, mostly, take the punishment gracefully.

Jason watched Danny go to his room and plop hard on the chair.

“You okay, Jay?”

“Yeah, just, I got scared I would lose him, y’know?”

Jazz put her hand on his shoulder, “You’re a good dad.”

“I was so afraid to lose him today. What if I had,” Jason asked hysterically, “I’m a horrible father. I should’ve kept a better eye on him!”

“Jason, you’re spiraling. Danny is fine.”

Jason wondered if Bruce ever felt the way Jason was feeling now. How had Bruce raised a feral Dick Grayson and a rule-breaking Jason Todd? He kind of wished he had his dad near him to ask.

(He would take Danny away; Jason could never talk to Bruce again.)

“Do you think I handled it right?”

Jason wanted some reassurance.

“You did better than you think. Trust me.”

Jason smiled sadly. He hoped he wouldn’t screw things up with Danny.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon

[brightdarkness-2013]

Chapter 15: And Heres Another One!

Summary:Jazz brings Prowl m&ms.

It was a boring run of the mill Tuesday afternoon. Barricade was getting a tube shoved down his throat again as he still refused to eat. Prowl didn’t bother trying to encourage him to eat once they started force feeding, but so long as Prowl didn’t mind then he must be fine. He was healing much better now that they had a little nest. He’d just lay in front of the entrance all day and briefly moved when Prowl emerged. Within another few days we were thinking of trying to merge them with another broken pod. It was a group of three that we’ve had for a while. Five wouldn’t be a complete pod, but with a larger number they could survive out in the ocean. One mating season and a mix with another pod and surely they’d have another in no time. A red mer and a golden mer and a little mini that had somehow gotten into the group. All of them had a bad habit of splashing anyone nearby, but they did it without the intention to harm or make things harder. They liked attention and liked to play with anyone who was willing. They didn’t bite or growl or hiss anymore. The golden mer didn’t join in as much and spent a lot of time grooming himself, but even he had a more playful side. They had, had a bad run in with some hunters and their pod stuck out with the glimmering scales. They were far too brightly colored for their own good and their chosen spot by the reef nearby had given the hunters easy access.

Quite honestly I didn’t think it was a good idea. Anything that had to do with Barricade was a bad idea. Trying to get him to play nice was an even worse idea.There was no way it was going to go over well. If it was possible I’d find a way to get Prowl to drop his pod member. The mer was way too aggressive and I swear he’d rip anyone or thing apart that entered his space. I could picture him slaughtering Prowl. There was nothing I could do about that and from what I had seen two of the three were fighters. The mini was more of a scout. Checking for danger and looking around stealthily enough to not be caught before returning to tell it’s pod members. The little thing was fast, but unfortunately young and the event had scarred the poor thing. Hopefully when the time came he’d keep away from Barricade.

“Prowl. I know you’re in there.”

I sat on the feeding stand as I pulled out the colored bag. I shook it a few times and watched the hidden entrance to the makeshift nest. No response. He didn’t even stir from what I could see. I frowned.

“I brought ya a treat… Blaster, I need ya!”

“What? He’s still shunning you?”

“Quit laughing at me and get up here.”

“I don’t think m&ms fix everything.” He shook his head as he climbed the stairs.

“They don’t need to. Just need to soften the blows and warm him back up to the idea of forgiving me.”

“Right. Of course. How could I have ever doubted you?”

“I could do without the sarcasm, Best Friend.”

He however just laughed at me again. “Prowl. Come here, we have a treat for you.”

And of course at Blasters call he stuck his head out. I held up the color package for him to see and he inched out a little more. Maybe he hadn’t swam up like he usually had, but this was a start and at least he was considering it. I dumped a few of the colorful candies into Blasters palm. He dipped his hand into the water and Prowl cleared the distance with a flick of his tail. It was pretty neat to actually be able to see him so clearly. We thought his movements were graceful and effortless before, but without the mix of sand and other particles that shifted around him in the sea it was amazing to see he barely moved at all. His wing fins would shift the smallest amount, almost like a twitch, and with one flick of his tail he was moving far faster and smoother than it looked like he should have. Each of his movements were precise and not without thought. He knew what he had to do and how much effort he needed before he even moved.

“So you’re still upset with Jazz? Yeah I know what you mean. He can get on my nerves sometimes too.” Blaster glanced back at me as Prowl took the candy from his hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I am a delight.”

“Most of the time. You’re persistent, which can be annoying at times, you come up with schemes that are unnecessary in every way shape and form, and of course we can’t forget the fact that despite your chipper, music loving, and friend making personality you can be a devious bastard. Maybe you don’t like your sister too much but apparently you like her enough to prank her ex for a week.”

“Hey, my ‘schemes’ make people smile. Plus he was an asshole and shouldn’t have dumped her for that slut Lacey. They didn’t even last a month anyway.” I countered with a hint of defiance.

“Did he really deserve you hacking your way into his school account and replacing his debate report with a history report on pimps and hookers?”

“Yes. If he didn’t want his account to be hacked he shouldn’t of had his password set as his dog’s name. He bragged about it enough.” I replied and he rolled his eyes.

“...Your Schemes make everyone uneasy.”

“Oh really? Because I’m pretty sure my last ‘scheme’ was your surprise birthday party.”

“You led me into a room blindfolded to get ambushed with silly string and then you mixed mentos in with the ice bucket and way too many times to count someones drink exploded.”

“Hey it was fun. It was a great party.”

“Ok yeah it was fun, but I still think you could step back a bit sometimes.” He relented.

“That’s what I thought.” I grinned as I made an attempt to offer Prowl some m&ms only for him to turn away. “Really? I thought we had something special.”

Blaster took the chance to laugh at my misfortune once again. I was very tempted to shove him into the tank.

Next

First

Masterpost

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice On Self-Harm (tw obvi)

Hi, even though this post is going to be about serious issues such as self-harm and suicidal ideation and all of that fun jazz, I am going to speaking about this topic with the same tone I always do. If that is considered offensive, just remember I am a person who has been sent to the crisis center and does self-harm :)

Remember, these are just my personal experiences. Everything is diverse and it's okay to mention that these experiences are not universal. HOWEVER, don't accuse me of lying about any of this shit!

TW: Talks About Self-Harm, Mental Illness, And Everything Related

Actual Introduction:

Despite the fact that whump and angst tend to include mention of suicidal thinking and self-harm, they rarely feel realistic in my own point of view. Obviously, there are various different motivations and actions for self-harm but I just want to see some of my own representation.

So here are some myths about self-harm and myths about mental illness in general since they tend to overlap.

A) Everyone Who Self-Harms And Thinks Of Suicide Is Mentally Ill

Yeah, this is pretty big misconception in the community so I just wanted to establish this.

Outside influences like unhealthy friend circles, stressful situations, and abuse which are linked yet not conclusive for mental illness can influence someone's desire to do self-harm.

While mental illness is a big motivator for self-harm, self-harm is just a coping mechanism. And not everyone who uses coping mechanisms are mentally ill

B) Self-Harm Can Only Happen Like [EXAMPLE]

There are various different ways of self-harming.

Personally, I tend to scratch my arms and specifically my left hand since my dominate hand is my right. It's also just an easy place to reach.

So I get a tinsy bit upset when the only "serious" type of self-harm is shown by cutting. Especially since I felt that the only way someone would ever take me seriously is by using a knife.

Remember, readers are going to be reading your shit so please try and diversify your self-harming from the physical and the mental since every single self-harm habit outside of "ritualistic cutting" tends to be judged as "less serious" or "not real".

Mental self-harm is real and self-destructive.

C) Self-Harm Is Dramatic

This may just be a me-thing but my self-harming mental struggle definitely isn't like how other people write it.

Genuinely, I treat self-harm like it's just another thing I do.

"Oh yeah, sometimes I write, do a bit of scratching, read a book, and watch youtube"

I self-harmed exclusively in public spaces since my self-harm is mostly conflated with my anxiety. And these people do not notice a thing. Genuinely. LIke, I have literally turned my entire hand red and bloody and nobody noticed.

It's just that nobody ever suspects it since people don't think of scratching casually in class when they think of self-harm.

When I was forced to go the crisis center since I expressed planning of suicide, I was making jokes the entire time.

When I shared a room with this amazing person(they/them) who had bipolar disorder. We just talked about our sexualities, job dreams, and watched The Amazing World Of Gumball.

I miss them.

GRAND CONCLUSION:

The point of this last section is to illustrate the fact that those with mental illness aren't removed from society in the way authors tend to write them.

In the minds of authors, once you express possible symptoms of a mental illness you become this melodramatic inhuman spectacle of misery.

I'm pretty normal. I have hobbies that have no deep psychological justification. I have a family that isn't just pure trauma in a trench coat. I have thoughts of normal sadness, happiness, peace, and anger.

I just also happen to self-harm sometimes.

Again, this section might be problematic and bad but it's just how I feel. And there is no such thing as a "problematic feeling". All there exists are problematic actions.

TO REITERATE, IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH ME THAT IS FINE. I AM NOT THE GOD OF MENTAL STRUGGLE. I JUST WANTED TO THROW OUT MY OPINION.

sorry for offending anyone :(