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nanenna · 1 day ago

Text

Have some crack.

"Well, what has everyone's capes in a twist?" Zatanna asked as she walked into the cafeteria in Mount Justice. She found Green Arrow, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, and Superman off to the side watching the goings on with various expressions of amusement. Batman was closer to the center of the room, just inside a circular area that had been cleared of tables and chairs, the current Robin held firmly in his grasp. Just on the other side of the clearing stood Wonder Woman, arms tensed to keep the Lasso of Truth tight in her grip, some sort of creature languishing at her feet.

"I take it this is the problem?" Zatanna crouched down to get a better look at the small creature. Judging from the head of snow white hair, the creature was face down, making it hard to judge what kind of creature it was. The body was black, with a white stripe near the middle, then more black that twisted, curled, and tapered off in a tail. Honestly between what looked like pointy ears sticking out just past the hair and the long, sinuous tail she could almost believe the creature was a lamia or naga.

"Just had to tie this little guy up with the lasso?" Zatanna smiled as she looked up at Diana, it was certainly a sight to behold.

"This creature has proven itself formidable," Diana responded with a wry grin.

"Do not harm him, he is my new pet," Robin demanded haughtily. Batman's shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

Zatanna smiled at the boy, "Well I'm just going to do a quick identification spell to make sure you know how to properly care for your new pet." She stood up and took a step back, "Uoy era erutaerc fo rennam tahw?"

GHOST

Well that was… odd. And shouldn't be possible. That wasn't one of the answers the spell even could give, it should've come back with something more specific, there were several categories of ghost after all. "Uoy era tsohg fo dnik tahw?"

GHOST

"Fascinating," Zatanna whispered to herself.

Batman gave one of his grunts, with Robin looking very close to demanding answers himself if Zatanna didn't take that grunt as an invitation to explain.

"I think we'll need to call in a specialist." Because what else could she do? For a spell to come back that insistent yet generic meant something about this "ghost" defied her own abilities. She quickly sent off a message, one that couldn't be ignored.

"What kind of specialist?" Superman asked, having moved to where a table and some chairs had hastily been pushed aside before Zatanna got there.

"Oh just our local necromancer, he should be able to get a better read than I can on our little friend here."

"Necromancer?!" Green Arrow asked in shock.

Zatanna sighed,"Necromancers aren't inherently evil just because they work with the dead."

"My pet is not dead," Robin said with a growl while crossing his arms. It was completely adorable.

"I'm afraid our little friend likely is, I'm sorry to say. But that doesn't mean he's not still alive."

Robin crossed his arms harder and pouted, though she's sure he would insist it was a glare.

"A pet that's already died once and come back is a pet that can't ever die again," Zatanna said with a wink.

"Alright, I'm here," a robotic voice announced flatly.

Zatanna turned and smiled, "Hood!"

"Todd," Robin stated angrily.

"Code names," Batman scolded tiredly.

"We are waiting for a so called specialist," Robin continued, "we don't have time for whatever nonsense you've come here for."

"Yeah, I know." Red Hood flicked Zatanna's message back at her, which she simply caught and dissolved. "You're lucky I was already geared up."

"I hope your regular gear includes spell components, our little friend is turning out to be quite the enigma."

Red Hood looked down at the creature. "Huh." He crouched down to get a closer look while Zatanna moved to sit on one of the tables.

"What the fuck?" Red Hood stood up, moved to the side, crouched down again, and tilted his head, he also shot off two more spells.

He looked up at Diana, "The fuck you'd find this thing?"

"Language," Superman scolded while trying to hold back a laugh.

"You're not my real dad," Hood shot back. He stood and rolled his shoulders. "Seriously though, where'd you find it?"

"Robin found it in one of the vents," Batman offered quickly.

"The demon brat would," Hood said through some fuzzing static. "But what the fuck even is this thing?"

"You're the expert," Zatanna reminded him.

"Since when are you a necromancer?" Batman demanded.

"Before the duffle bag, after these," Hood stated confidently as he summoned an All Blade.

Zatanna couldn't help casting a little spell of her own, it wasn't often one got to see them in use.

Batman looked constipated, Robin looked confused. "Do not you need to be in the presence of true evil to use those?"

Hood shrugged, "That's what Ollie's for."

Green Arrow started to protest, but Black Canary elbowed him. Superman hid a laugh behind a cough, Batman did not try to hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Let me rephrase that," Hood stated. "There are not one, but two whole billionaires here, can't get more evil than that."

Batman's shoulders drooped, Green Arrow did protest this time.

"You're right, two-and-a-half."

"You say that as if you do not have a trust fund," Robin sneered.

"Legally dead," Hood replied. "Now stop distracting me, demon brat."

"I'm not a distraction," Robin grumbled.

Red Hood used the sword that was still in his hand to poke the creature.

"Do not stab Harold!" Robin demanded. Batman grabbed the kid before he could lunge at Hood, a blade suddenly in his hand.

"It's a diagnostic stabbing," Hood defended.

Robin looked too confused to answer to that. So did a few of their onlookers. Zatanna just nodded along, a diagnostic stabbing. To be fair, if she had swords that were attached to her soul she could probably do the same thing. She was rather glad she didn't, that just didn't sound pleasant.

Not that Hood was actually stabbing the creature, mostly he was laying the flat of the blade against… Harold. But she knew that according to Hood that was enough and would tell him a lot.

"What even the fuck?" Hood murmured.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Zatanna teased.

"Everything is coming back nonsense, like this thing's writing in his own answers on a multiple choice test."

Zatanna nodded, that really is how her own attempts had felt. "Is he even a ghost?"

"Yeah, pretty sure he's a ghost. Still can't figure out what kind, he could be anything. Poltergeist, shade, yuki onna…"

"Yuki onna?" That wasn't a common type of ghost, Hood wouldn't have mentioned one without reason.

"He's ice type."

"What?"

"Ask him yourself," Hood motioned to the creature with his All Blade.

"Alright, I will." Zatanna hopped to her feet and approached the creature again. "Epyt ruoy s'tahw?"

PRETTY AND BOSSY

Zatanna couldn't help laughing at that.

"What'd you get?" Hood asked, clearly confused even through the voice modulator.

"Pretty and bossy," Zatanna answered with another chuckle.

Hood's voice modulator burst with static. "Wow, okay, not the question I told you to ask, but sure."

"He's just a little guy, it's not his fault she confused him," Green Arrow defended.

"You hear that, demon brat? Your new pet likes girls that are pretty and bossy."

"Don't be so closed minded, he might like pretty boys who are bossy," Black Canary said with a laugh.

"Okay, okay," Zatanna waved everyone off as she got herself back under control. "One more try. Uoy era tsohg fo epyt tahw?"

Zatanna blinked, then blinked again. "Was that…?"

"I think it was the Pokémon symbol for ice type," Hood confirmed.

"……. How?!" That made not a lick of sense! That's not how that spell even worked.

"Writing in his own answers on a multiple choice test," Hood repeated.

Zatanna pressed her lips together. "You know that means whatever he is, this guy's powerful. That's not just something you can do casually."

"What's more worrying is there's no way for this little guy to be that powerful. Human, less than two years dead."

"There's no way that little thing is human," Green Arrow scoffed.

"Wow, rude," Hood said. "Just because he died he stopped being human, I see how it is. Racist."

"Ghosts don't even start to mess with their self image for at least a decade, and that's only if they have the mental flexibility to get past their death. There's no way someone so freshly dead would look like that, not without some sort of curse involved."

"Could be, it might explain the weird results, or at least some of them." Hood dissipated his sword, then reached up and pulled his helmet off. He held it out to Diana, "Hold this for me, please?"

"Certainly," Diana said pleasantly as she finally relaxed her posture and accepted the helmet.

Harold didn't react to the lasso loosening.

Hood crouched down again and poked Harold. The little ghost huffed out a deep sigh, like he had the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Hood poked him again, "C'mon, stop playing dead, we all already know how dead you really are."

"All the way?" Zatanna asked with a snicker.

"Exactly." The poking and prodding continued, "I don't even know why the lasso worked, no matter how magical it is you have to be physical to get caught in it. Why is a ghost so physical? Just density shift."

Harold seemed to have had enough, he turned and bit Hood's finger.

"There we go." Hood stood up, bringing Harold up with him. Now loose, the lasso slipped off, leaving Diana to wind it back up. Harold bit a few more times, moving up Hood's gloved hand as he did so. His strangely squishy face was scrunched up in concentration.

"That is such an uncanny valley face," Zatanna commented. It really was, but dealing with any spirit was often like staring right at AI art, somehow they never quite got it right and had trouble with any kind of fine details, unless they obsessed over a particular detail and got it hyperrealistic.

"Eh, kinda cute I gess. I can see why Robin wants him for a pet."

Robin shrugged off Batman's hold and stepped forward, "And I'm ready to take Harold home. You may visit to detail his proper care."

Before Hood could hand the ghost over, he chirped and warbled before winding up Hood's arm, around his neck, then up to Hood's head, where he snuffled around in Hood's hair.

Hood blindly grabbed for the little ghost, "C'mere, Harold, your boy wants you."

"Curse or no, he is still a person and should be treated as such," Zatanna said as she leaned back to watch.

"When the curse is lifted and he is capable of making decisions he will be allowed to make his own decisions," Batman promised, though he looked quite grim and reluctant about the whole thing.

Hood finally got his hand on Harold and pulled the little ghost down. Harold flopped over so he was being held like a baby and snuggled up to Hood's chest, giving off happy little trills and warbles.

"Alright, little pest, go be someone else's annoyance." Hood held his arm out towards Robin.

Harold let out a pitiful whine and latched onto Hood's hand with his stubby little paws, looking up at the necromancer with big, wobbling eyes. Literally wobbling, as in his big, round eyes were literally changing shape like a cartoon character. It was like watching a train wreck.

Robin held his hands up, "Harold, are you ready to come home?"

Harold turned and hissed at Robin, his face morphing and stretching into something with far too many teeth and big, dark eyebrows. He swatted at Robin with his stubby little paw, missing by a mile, then turned back towards Hood and half slithered half floated up his arm to curl around the necromancer's neck like a particularly stubborn scarf.

Hood sighed, "I was afraid of that. Sorry kiddo, the dead prefer other dead for their playmates."

Robin scowled, "TT Harold, you could've had a good home with me, but as you have made your choice I will respect that."

Batman looked relieved.

"Yeah, no. I'm not calling him Harold."

"I like the name, it suits him," Zatanna said.

Hood absently scratched Harold's head, causing the little ghost to purr happily. "I'm gonna call him Vanilla."

Zatanna held in a snort, using all her willpower not to start humming a certain song.

"It's probably for the best I take him anyway, he should probably be under observation since he's just so weird."

"Keep me updated?" Zatanna asked.

"Yeah, sure. I'll drop updates in the server." Hood waved her off as he picked up his helmet and put it back on. "C'mon, Vanilla, you're gonna love the zeta tube." He wasn't, Hood was going to have a heck of a time getting the little ghost go through with him.

Zatanna turned to Diana, "Since I'm here, how about lunch?"

"Lunch sounds lovely," Diana answered.

- - -

Later Zatanna was checking the JLD discord server to see what the others were up to. Hood, of course, was keeping everyone updated.

Red Hood: Why is a ghost falling asleep?

He had attached a short video that was indeed Vanilla nodding off. The little ghost's head kept drooping before he caught himself and blearily blinked back awake, for some reason all this while holding a honey mustard squeeze bottle. The video ended when his jaw unhinged like a snake for a toothy yawn.

Red Hood: Sleepy little guy.

He'd attached a selfie of himself lounging on a couch with Vanilla snuggled up to his mustard bottle asleep on Hood's chest.

Red Hood: aewrsdtgyu

The next picture was Hood in pretty much the same position, only now there was a very alive looking teenaged boy with pale skin and messy black hair still clutching the mustard bottle curled up on Hood's chest.

Red Hood: He has a pulse?!?! WW: Congratulations on your first adoption. If he has blue eyes you're even keeping on theme. Red Hood: Fuck you, I'm not adopting him!!!! WW: How disappointing, I expected you to take responsibility for your own consequences. Zatanna: You already gave him a name. Red Hood: So did the demon brat. I'm gonna go throw him at bruce before he wakes up. Zatanna: Good luck! WW: Tell us more of your new son when he wakes. Jason Blood: What's this about adopting? Jason Blood: Oh, what a little cutie. You can be undead father and son. Red Hood: Fuck all of you.

Zatanna smiled to herself, Hood was definitely keeping the boy. She needed to get him a gift of some kind, something to welcome the newest member of the bat-clan. And also an excuse to get close enough to look the boy over again, she was sure he'd give the most interesting results.

#nenna writes #fanfic #fanfiction #crackfic #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc comics #justice league #humor #jason should be in the jld and i'm gonna put him there #but also i'm gonna be a silly little goose about it uwu #little baby man

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cyanide-siren · 2 days ago

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pfft, we're not a couple

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You, Dean and Sam attend a Supernatural convention by Becky's invitation and see people dressed up as characters from your life. One couple, approaching you, is dressed up as you and Dean. Of course, you're just friends - right?

☆☆

"What the hell's this place?" you mumbled, looking around the people dressed to look like demons, vampires, werewolves and other monsters. But along with supernatural creatures, some of them were dressed in the same kind of clothes like you and the Winchesters did.

It was a convention for Chuck's books. The books about your life hunting demons. This can't be fucking real.

"Sooo, do you like it?" Becky asked, appearing next to you out of nowhere. God, how much did that girl piss you off with that wide lipstick smile of hers and pitched voice.

"Yeah, i absolutely fucking love it," you replied sarcastically, voice threatening and angry which Becky took a notice of and turned from excited to awkward. You didn't even care to look at her way.

Chuck walked towards the four of you, taking cautious and nervous steps. He had wanted to keep this a secret from you but of course Becky had texted the Winchesters from Chuck's phone.

"Listen, guys –" Chuck started but couldn't get very far with his words.

"No, you listen to us, you piece of shit," Dean growled, towering over Chuck right in front of him. "It's bad enough to write books about our lives without permission, but holding some kind of event to dozens of people about it? That's even worse."

"I-i didn't mean this to happen, but..." Chuck stuttered, afraid of getting a fist on his face if he said one more wrong word.

"Save it, Chuck," Sam spat and rolled his eyes.

Chuck was going to say something more in his defense until a man arrived next to him and started talking about the process of publishing new books to the series and pulling Chuck away from you.

Un-fucking-believable.

Soon, a random man and woman, holding hands, approached the three of you but looking especially between you and Dean. Their eyes widened both in surprise and joy.

"Oh, honey! They decided to cosplay them too!" the woman exclaimed with wide eyes and even wider smile.

"Wow, you look just like them," the man gasped, looking at the two of you from head to toe.

The woman was wearing almost exactly the same outfit as you, which gave you the creeps. She was wearing a wig too with your hair color, pulled up in a ponytail like your hair.

"Can we take a picture together, please?" the woman asked, already pulling her camera from her purse. All you wanted to do was to yank her fake ponytail and slam her on the wall, but you didn't want to cause a scene.

"You know, Dean and Y/N is one of my favorite fictional couples," the woman eagerly told you. "They are so meant to be."

Your eyes grew wider and cheeks turned slightly pink, panic rising inside your chest.

"Oh, no no, we're not, i mean, they're not," you stuttered, not getting the words properly out of your mouth.

"Yeah, they're just friends," Dean finished your sentence, eyes as wide as yours.

"Are you kidding me?" the man exclaimed. "The chemistry, both romantic and sexual, between them is insane! There's thousands of fanfictions of them too written online."

"Fanfictions?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's like, one of the most popular pairings in the fandom!" the woman said. She quickly looked around her to see if anyone was listening to your conversation and then turned her voice a little lower, "I'm writing a fic series about them together too currently, i've been working on it for months."

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, not knowing what the hell to say to that. Not knowing what the fuck those words even meant.

"Do you want to hear what it's about? I can send you a link," she suggested, looking excited for sharing her passion with someone else. "I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow and..."

"No thanks," you declined, just looking at her like she had completely lost her mind.

"Anyway, how about the picture?" the man asked and already gave the camera to Sam. "You can take it, right?"

Sam just looked at the camera in his hand with a baffled and confused expression on his face, but as he turned his gaze on you and Dean, an amused smile spread on his face. Both you and Dean looked uncomfortable and horrified about the situation.

The woman pulled you next to her by your elbow and the man pulled Dean to the picture as well, putting an arm around his shoulder. You and Dean exchanged glances with each other, wondering if you should punch both of them with a fist on their faces or just give in and get it over with.

This better not be posted anywhere on the internet.

The expressions on both you and Dean's face were almost identical: a mix of confused, dumbfounded, terrified and slightly embarrassed. Sam only smirked, finding you and Dean's sudden awkwardness around each other amusing.

"Smile," Sam smirked as he was getting the four of you to fit the camera's screen. The two strangers pushed you and Dean harder against each other's shoulder.

No, you would definitely not be smiling, unlike these two weirdos.

When the picture had been taken, Sam gave the camera back to the couple who were more than happy how good the picture had turned out to be.

"Thank you so much! Have a good day!" the woman said and pulled you into a tight hug. You hadn't expected a damn hug so you just stood there, being suffocated.

"I think i'll go get a drink," you decided once the couple was gone, wanting to step away from Dean for a second. You also were in need of something strong to get through with whatever the hell was going on here. Just barely 10 minutes in and you were already losing your mind.

Dean was left alone with Sam, both of them looking after you for a moment. Dean turned to look at Sam who was holding his laugh.

"We don't look like a couple," Dean scoffed, but when Sam was silent, Dean's face fell and he looked a little more serious. "Wait, do we?"

"Yes, Dean, you do look like a couple," Sam said. "Been waiting for you to realize it yourself."

"That's stupid, we just flirt occasionally but it doesn't mean anything," Dean said and rolled his eyes, trying to brush it off. "We're just friends."

"Mhm, whatever you say," Sam muttered, letting himself smile when his brother didn't see.

Just a few metres away from Dean and Sam, one guy with yellow contact lenses in his eyes approached a fake Dean, saying with a grin, "What's with the face? Did i kill your mommy?"

Dean gritted his teeth, knowing he'd break that man's nose and crack his teeth if he had said that to Dean's face. To the actual Dean.

"Yep, definitely need a drink," Dean muttered, growing even angrier than he already was after entering into this building.

After Dean had swallowed almost a full glass of whiskey down his throat, he saw a man, assumingly dressed as Dean as well, talking with you in the distance. You laughed at something he said to you, hiding your smile behind your hand. Your pretty smile that made Dean's chest and stomach feel funny whenever Dean saw your smile or heard you laugh.

What was so funny? Seeing another man make you laugh twisted something in Dean's chest.

"Dean, just tell her already," Sam said behind him, noticing Dean's tight grip on the glass, knuckles turning white.

"Tell her what?"

"That you like her," Sam specified.

"She's a friend, that's it," Dean insisted, tired of stating the obvious to his brother.

"Yeah? Well, i suppose it's fine then that she's probably going home tonight with a different man when this is over," Sam said.

Dean went into a slight panic after hearing those words.

"Home? What? With who?" Dean asked, looking back at you talking with the stranger. "What, that guy?"

"See, you like her."

"Well, she can do as she pleases," Dean said, shrugging his shoulders like he didn't care.

"When are you going to stop being so damn stubborn?" Sam asked, growing annoyed of his brother not admitting to his feelings. Sam wanted Dean to be happy, to let someone love him, but Dean's constant resistance was making him lose his mind.

"I'm not stubborn."

"Mhm."

Dean noticed another man trying to flirt with you. At least that was what it looked like. You didn't look exactly convinced or impressed by the fake Dean's words, whatever he was saying to you, but it didn't mean that Dean wouldn't get a sting in his heart for having to look at that.

"That's not her type, she's not going anywhere with him," Dean said.

"And you know what her type is?" Sam asked. He highly doubted that you talked about your taste in men with Dean. Or that he'd be willing to listen to your dating life.

"Well, i know it's not that guy," Dean insisted.

You were pretty, anyone with eyes could see that. You were funny too, your sense of humor matching Dean's perfectly. You were sweet and caring. Damn it, Dean could spend hours on explaining all the good things about you that made people like you.

Who wouldn't be attracted to you?

You were just a friend. His best friend. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with his best friend. That was forbidden, right? Don't fall in love with your best friend. So, of course he hadn't done that.

But every time you smiled at him, laughed at one of his jokes, he felt his heart skip a beat and butterflies swarm in his stomach.

Was that love? No. You were a friend, that's all.

☆☆

You were pinned against the wooden floor, the ghost a small child holding a large kitchen knife against your forehead, ready to peel half of your scalp off. How was this kid so strong? It was like trying to push a grown man away from you with no result.

Then, the child burst into flames and ash until was completely gone. Those sons of bitches really managed to burn the bones?

Dean rushed to you, grabbing your hand to pull you up. Even he had been pinned against the floor by another child, not able to fight back either.

"Are you okay?" he asked in panic, breathing heavily. He cupped your face with his warm hands to examine your face closer, looking at the wound on your forehead, which was only a small scratch and didn't bleed more than couple of drops. A simple band-aid would be enough.

"I'm fine," you assured him and had a teasing smile on your face. "But it's kind of cute you're worried about me."

Dean just rolled his eyes and wasn't in the mood of joking around, the tone of his voice complete opposite from yours. "Of course i'm worried about you, i always am."

You swallowed, becoming more serious too and were suddenly much more aware of the small gap between the two of you. You were afraid that he was actually going to kiss you, but you were interrupted by Sam running into the room, out of breath.

"Oh, thank god, you're okay, I –" Sam sighed, relieved, but then noticed how close you and Dean were standing. Dean quickly let go of you and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, we're just fine," Dean responded. "Let's go."

But before Dean would manage to walk out of the room, Sam quickly stepped outside and closed the door, trapping you and Dean inside alone.

"Sam? Open the door," Dean commanded, not able to get the door open as Sam was blocking it.

"Not until you talk things through between each other," Sam shouted through the door, loud enough for you to hear him too.

"Talk what through?" Dean asked, annoyed at his brother.

"You know what," Sam said, frustrated of you and Dean being both so stubborn.

Now that there was nobody else around you, the atmosphere was more awkward than it normally was and both of you waited that the other would break the silence.

"So, that was fun i guess," you said after trying to think what to say what felt like forever, but couldn't come up with anything useful.

"Yeah, super," Dean mumbled, looking down at his hands.

Truthfully, you did like Dean, more than just as a friend, but you had crossed out the option of having a romantic relationship with him a long time ago, knowing that he didn't do long-term relationships and you didn't do short flings. Especially with your best friend. What if you told him about your feelings and he didn't feel the same? You'd make things between the two of you way too awkward.

"So... i saw you chatting with some guy earlier," Dean said.

"Yeah? What about it?" you asked, furrowing your brows.

"Just, i don't know, looked like you had a good time," Dean stated, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with you. Immediately after he had said those words outloud, he regretted bringing it up.

"Well, i guess he was kind of funny," you said and shrugged, narrowing your eyes and then examining his behavior. You started slowly walking towards him, a smile on your lips. "Wait, does it bother you that another man made me laugh, hm?"

"No," Dean scoffed.

"Dean?" you said, stretching his name longer and raising your eyebrows. "Sounds a little like you might be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Dean denied, finally looking into your eyes. You were suddenly incredibly close to him, just a small gap between the two of you. Dean swallowed, his heart beating faster as your gaze pierced all the way through his soul. God, you had pretty eyes. "I'm not."

"Mhm," you hummed, not convinced at all. "So, you're fine if i go talk to him instead of you?" You put your hands on his shoulders, gently grabbing the collar of his shirt and twiddling it in your hands. "You can be honest. You wouldn't mind, hm?"

"Of course i'd mind, Y/N," he answered, voice louder than you expected, making you flinch a little. However, it didn't take you more than a few seconds for you to start to giggle.

"Someone's jealooous," you teased, Dean's face not amused at all. "Just admit it that you want me aaaall to yourself."

"And what if i do, hm?" Dean asked. "Want you all to myself."

Now it was your turn to fall quiet for a second, smile fading from your face.

Right then, Dean grabbed your face and pulled you closer, pressing your lips against his. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it wasn't just a gentle peck. It was hard, needy and like he was afraid you'd float away from him. When he looked into your eyes, noses almost touching each other, he read the expression on your face, shocked and taken aback, like you hadn't liked the kiss. That he had finally fucked up everything between the two of you.

Dean was just about to step back when you put your hand on the back of his head, slamming your lips against his again and taking him into a proper kiss. Dean almost instantly rested his hands on your hips, pulling your body against him. When you opened your mouth slightly, he had the chance to push his tongue inside your mouth.

Your body was going crazy, butterflies swarming inside your stomach, chest feeling warm and heartbeat rising faster. His touch was everything you had missed and needed. Having him touch you and hold you was like puzzle pieces fitting together that had been missing their other half for their entire life.

At some point you had to pull away to catch your breath and locked eyes with each other.

"Is it too much asked for if i'd be the only guy to be able to do that to you?" Dean murmured.

"You want to do that again, hm?" you asked, biting your lip to hide your smile.

"Hell yeah i do," Dean chuckled and was already about to pull you into another kiss, when, Sam dared to open the door slightly to peek inside.

"Chuck is on his way over here," Sam informed. "Might want to continue that elsewhere so he doesn't add that to his next book."

You immediately let go of Dean and started walking towards the door.

"Absolutely nothing happened here," you stated, but Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you against him before you managed to step out of the room, back on his chest.

"Yeah? Well something might happen in the motel later, hm?" Dean murmured into your ear, quiet enough that Sam wouldn't hear you.

But he did, in fact, hear Dean's words.

"And i will book a different room for myself," Sam said, shaking his head but also happy that he you had finally admitted your feelings with Dean.

☆☆

#supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural #supernatural x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean imagine

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xavistarlight · 2 days ago

Text

Thinking about Xavier’s breeding kink

you had just been on your phone in the bed scrolling through Instagram when you came up on a reel

“all men have breeding kinks it just needs to be unlocked”

You scoff at it a little, that’s kind of a bold statement to make, you think to yourself

But then you put two and two together, all the times Xavier had preferred coming inside you, how his eyes gleam like an ocean in the night sky when he sees you interacting with children

Xavier has a breeding kink

And you’re gonna unlock it.

Step 1 get him in bed, pretty easy if there was any activity xavier loved in the bed more than sleeping it was fucking you.

Step 2 allude to pregnancy and or breeding.

Xavier was in between your thighs length aligned with your core about to push inside you

“hey honey, i haven’t been able to fill the prescription for my birth control for a couple weeks, but it’s fine you can still come inside me.”

“ I mean a baby wouldn’t be the worst thing huh”

And that’s how you ended up here..

“ Fuck, that’s it” he moans out as he pounds into you at an undetectable rhythm

Xavier wasn’t usually primal but this was a primal urge , like a leopard chasing its prey.

Your hands clawing at his back

Sobs of pleasure coming out of your mouth as he grips your hips.

“ ngh , so full of your cock” you moan out

Xavier’s pace quickens somehow not even knowing that was possible at the rate he’s going

“ let me make you a mommy” he moans close to your ear

“ it’s what you want hm, it’s what you need, your womb craves my seed?” He ask so honestly like he genuinely needs the confirmation.

“ fuck , yes need your babies, need you to make me a mommy” you say breathlessly words slightly broken up as Xavier’s pounds are relentless

That’s all it takes for him

His thrusts are even more frantic but somehow more sensual like he wants to paint your walls with his seed up and down, he wasn’t fucking you anymore he was making love to you.

“ you’re perfect my star, gonna look so good carrying my baby, gonna give you everything all of me-“

As he’s cut off by your orgasms intertwining

You falling apart underneath him as he pumps you full of his cum, squirt after squirt , rope after rope

Your gummy insides so weak from his cock not even fighting just taking all that he can give like your cunt nutritionally needs it.

“ that’s it honey, I’ve got you” he says running his fingers along your hip bone before pulling out

Immediately sticking his fingers in your cunt as to block the exit making sure there was no other choice but for it to pass through to your womb.

After he’s decided your cunt had efficiently taken his bearings , he gives it a couple pats as if it had just had a full meal.

He flops down next to you kissing up your neck

“ my princess, did so good. So full and leaky”

So all men having a breeding kink may be up for debate but what wasn’t was if Xavier had one or not, because that was definitely a yes.

Masterlist

Notes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected 🤍

Taglist 🏷️ @calistaxoxo24 @mariojins @nezuswritingdesk @swaggyv1v1

@ashsillyrants @wintereve3 @deejse @lucidreamsea @monsochhichi @sxkura-blxssxm @princessofenkanomiya @yeompei @lady-wallace @weepingangel2222 @eolivy @inspiredfairy @wordsgodeep

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unhakies · 2 days ago

Note

i see that ur requests r open… heh… give me a leehan x idol!secretly a marine biologist reader NOW. like reader is a good idol friend thats done a collabd either bnd and leehan really liked her and then found out she does marine biology professionally behind her idol life and he js falls in love THANK YEEEWWW😛😛😛😛

the tides between us. k. leehan (req!)

pairing: idol!leehan x idol!marine biologist fem reader.

word count: 716

genre: fluff, romance, oneshot

notes — i was gonna go to sleep but this was SUCH a good and cute idea that i HAD to whip something up real quick.

you weren't trying to hide anything. well, not really anyways. but in an industry where one can get hated on for simply 'being smart' it's obvious why you would keep that part of your life behind.

nobody noticed.

well, that's what you told yourself.

you met the boynextdoor members during a special year-end stage collab, and needless to say you've been close since. there was woonhak made you laugh until your cheeks hurt, or even jaehyun who dragged you into chaotic tiktok challenges you definitely didnt want to take part in.

but then there was leehan.

he didn't say much at first. but you could always feel his eyes on you.

you sat in the corner of the practice room, cooling down after a tough practice session, tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration as you scribbled away in your notebook.

you were so engrossed in drawing you hadn't even noticed someone was standing over you until they spoke.

"nice whale."

you almost screamed.

"oh my GOD, leehan you scared me." you put a hand over your chest. you breathed out a large breath before continuing. "thank you, it was just a little doodle." you smiled before putting your book to the side.

he sat down next to you, examining the drawing. "you draw often?" he asked, flipping through the pages.

"mhm, sometimes. it helps me think." he just nodded in response, stopping back to your recent drawing. "i think i've seen this species before." he started.

you froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. "huh?"

"the whale. it's dorsal fin, it's head shape. it's pretty easy to tell that its a sei whale." he pointed as he names the characteristics.

you stared at him. you knew he liked fish, but wow.

he gave his signature grin, "i have a knack for this stuff."

you blinked. "well, you're right, it is a sei whale."

he smirked. "lucky guess."

but you knew it wasn't luck at all.

he was reading you like an open book.

days passed by, and it was like he was in a true crime documentary, collecting evidence like his life depended on it.

when he dropped by your dorms to pick something up, he spotted the plethora of sea life books on your bookshelf. he noticed your necklace, the small seashell shaped pendant catching his eye. or even the way your eyes lingered on his fish themed phone case.

the two of you were left in the break room. the rest of the members left to do god knows what. you were doodling in your fish themed sketchbook again, as leehan kept his gaze fixed on you.

you looked up at him.

"are you trying to figure me out?" you chuckled softly.

"a little."

"so, whats your verdict?" you closed your book and sat forward.

"i think you care about a lot of things most people overlook,"

you swallow and look away, you couldn't bare to look at him in the eyes. it's like the room got smaller.

"and i think that's beautiful." he finished. you mustered up the courage to speak. "thank you.." you said, cheeks burning.

he just gave a knowing smile and said nothing else.

the next day, you walked into your break room, your eyes landing on the familiar fish cover of your book. but this time, there was a yellow sticky note on it.

"your whale drawing the other day was really good. ps; i named him seihan." - L

you laughed, startling the staff members who were working on stuff around the room, but you could care less.

leehan found a part of you you thought nobody would see. he didn't just accept it. he liked it.

he liked you.

your staff mentioned something about someone leaving a gift for you in your break room. again.

you didn't need a degree to know it was leehan.

you opened up the small pale blue box. inside a seashell, delicate and smooth with soft blue and pink lines, and a note.

"for when you can't hear the ocean, hold this to your ear. i hope it helps you feel as close to home as it does for me." - L

you bite your lip.

maybe the tide has fully come in

and you might be ready to let it.

perm taglist; @sh0dor1

#unhakies #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #leehan #leehan x reader #bnd fanfic #bnd x reader #bnd leehan #leehan imagines #request #bnd riwoo #bnd jaehyun #bnd sungho #bnd woonhak #bnd taesan #bnd imagines #leehan fluff

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gojoscumrag · 3 days ago

Text

ღ just a cumrag - part 2

warnings: absolute filth, public sex, degradation, obsession, exhibitionism, use of cursed energy, dumbification, cockdrunk reader, creampie, multiple loads, overstimulation, use-and-go, possession kink, ruined reader

Gojo didn’t knock. He just appeared, cursed energy buzzing sharp through the air, and grabbed you by the hair. With your hair in his fist he dragged you into the nearest empty classroom. Your knees hit the floor before you could speak.

“Open that mouth, baby,” Gojo said, already tugging his cock free. “It’s been two hours. You must be starving.”

You moaned around him before your brain caught up, cheeks bulging as he shoved his cock in deep. Unbothered by your gagging. He loved when your makeup smeared. When your eyes watered and your throat clenched around him like it missed him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “My dirty little cumrag. Just a hole I can fuck anytime I want.”

And he did. Hallways, classrooms, alleyways behind mission sites. He’d bend you over a desk with your panties stuffed in your mouth, slam into you while you sobbed and begged for mercy you never got. This time? He yanked you up, flipped you around and bent you over the teacher’s desk.

No prep or lube, only spit and raw need.

He shoved in like he owned you. And god, he did. He’d branded you with his cock so many times your body opened for him automatically. You moaned, brain slipping out of reach as he fucked you hard and filthy. Cursed energy buzzed against your skin, heightening everything. Each thrust slammed into your g-spot like a curse technique, pleasure too intense and sharp. You were drooling and barely conscious at this point. All you could think about was Gojo and his cock stretching you wide.

He grabbed your throat, leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna stuff you full again,” he said molten. “Already leaked out the last two loads. Can’t waste a single drop.”

Your pussy fluttered like it wanted to be used.

“Tell me what you are.”

You gasped, “Y-Your cumrag.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your cumrag!” You sobbed loudly.

“Attagirl.”

He slammed in deep. Hips jerking as he filled you again with hot, thick, endless mess. Your cry mixed to his deep groan. You were pushed to the brink, the stretch and pressure too much, too perfect. His cum dripped down your thighs the second he pulled out, but he didn’t let it fall far.

No. He shoved two fingers in, pushed it back up. He groaned again at the sight of your messy cunt swallowing his spend like it was made for it. Then he snapped a photo with his phone.

“For later,” he said casually, tucking himself back in. “When I’m jerking off between missions.”

You collapsed onto the desk, dazed, used and aching. And then the door creaked open. Gojo didn’t flinch, only looked over his sunglasses and smirked. “She’s mine,” he said, like it explained everything. “And she likes being ruined.”

Ino shouldn’t have walked in. He knew that.

But he had and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your back arched, the way Gojo held your throat and the obscene slick sounds echoing in the classroom like it was something out of a porn. You’d been wrecked and dripping. You didn’t even flinch when Gojo snapped a picture of his cum leaking out of you. You looked proud of it.

So yeah. Ino had… ideas.

The next day, when Gojo left for a mission and you were in the hallway alone, bent over your phone reading a text—Ino saw an opening.

“Hey,” he said all flirty. “Didn’t expect you to be so down for a quick fuck like that.”

You blinked. “What?”

“C’mon,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m not Gojo, but I can make you feel good. You were so hot yesterday. Bet you’re always wet like that, huh?”

His hand brushed your hip, fingers sliding dangerously close to your ass. Not rough, but too familiar.

You stepped back and whispered, “Don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands like it was a joke. “Relax. I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” you snapped, walking away before your heart gave out. But it stayed with you.

It clung to you. The way Ino looked at you, like you were free-use. Like being Gojo’s cumrag meant you were anyone’s. You didn’t tell Gojo. You couldn’t. What if he agreed? What if the thought of sharing you with others turned him on? What if he got bored of you? What if you ruined it?

So you stayed quiet. And days later, when Gojo slipped behind you in the hall, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest like he always did—you flinched. You flinched like it wasn’t him and instantly Gojo froze.

“…Hey,” he said seriously. “What was that?”

You shook your head too fast. “Nothing. You just surprised me—”

“You don’t get surprised,” he said, stepping in front of you now to scan your face. “You always know when it’s me. You melt when it’s me.”

You looked away. “I’m just tired.”

But Gojo didn’t buy it, not for a second. His fingers brushed your jaw, trying to be gentle. “Did someone touch you?”

Your silence was louder than any answer.

“Who?”

Your lips trembled. “It wasn’t like that—he just—he saw us and thought I was… easy.”

Gojo’s pupils narrowed. His cursed energy spiked so fast the air went sharp and cold. “Who.”

You whispered, “Ino.”

Gojo was gone before you could stop him.

He found Ino behind the training yard. All casual, sipping vending machine coffee like he hadn’t crossed a line so deep he was practically buried in Gojo’s kill list.

“Hey, Gojo,” Ino called, half a smirk on his lips.

Gojo didn’t speak or smile. He just kept walking until the air around them cracked, cursed energy rolling off his body in thick, oppressive waves that made the ground vibrate.

Ino tensed. “Whoa, what��s going on—”

Gojo was in front of him before he could finish the sentence, hand clamped tight around his throat. He slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the siding.

“You touched her?” Gojo said, deadly soft.

Ino choked. “What—”

“You touched what’s mine?” Gojo leaned in, sunglasses pushed up just enough for Ino to see his eyes glowing with fury. “You looked at her like she was a fucking free-use toy after watching me stuff her full and then you put your hands on her?”

“Gojo, fuck… okay, back up—”

“I don’t back up.” Gojo squeezed harder, cursed energy lashing out like invisible knives, cutting the air. “Do you know what I do to curses that breathe in my direction?”

Ino gasped, face reddening. Gojo leaned closer, voice dropping into something cold and hollow. “You think she’s just some slut I use? That she’s available to anyone just because I fuck her in the hallway?”

His smile was too wide now. “That’s your mistake. She isn’t some hole I use. She’s mine. She’s sacred. She’s the only thing keeping me from turning this place into ash.”

Gojo dropped him and Ino hit the ground hard, coughing and clutching his throat. Gojo stood over him, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes blazing behind his glasses.

“You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her unless you want your name scraped off a stone.” He crouched beside him, head tilted like a wolf circling a wounded animal. “Next time I even feel you near her, I’ll peel the skin off your face before you know you’re dead.”

He stood, dusted off his pants and walked away. No one dared stopping him, because they felt what he was. What she meant to him. Satoru Gojo wasn’t in love, he was possessed.

In the meantime you were sitting on your bed, legs curled up. You tried to focus on the silence when the door opened and Gojo stepped in. No usual teasing grin adored his features. It was a quiet, raw energy that filled the room. And he was already stripping.

Glasses came off first, followed by his jacket. His shirt. His belt. Pants. Boxers. Everything peeled away like he couldn’t stand a single inch between you. You sat frozen, heart pounding.

“Satoru…?”

He didn’t speak, not until he was completely naked. And then he crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed to your stomach like he was praying.

“I should’ve protected you,” he murmured. “He touched what’s mine.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair. “You scared me earlier…”

“I know.” He looked up, blue eyes bare and burning. “I’ll never let you flinch again. I swear it.”

He kissed you slowly, like your lips were something holy. And when he guided you back onto the bed it wasn’t rushed or rough. It was complete, because this time Gojo needed all of you. He crawled over you and started stripping you naked until you were skin on skin. No clothing, no barrier, just feverish heat and want. Your legs parted and he lined himself up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered. “Let me all the way in. I need to feel every inch.”

You did and when he pushed inside, it was differet. It was deeper and slower, a stretch that felt like he was carving his name into you. Your nails raked down his back as he rolled his hips, grinding into you like he wanted to fuse you together. To leave nothing untouched.

“You’re not just mine,” he groaned. “You’re me. My reason. My peace. My fucking obsession.”

You whimpered as his thrusts grew desperate, needy. Like his soul was clawing its way into yours through every inch of skin. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your face, your throat, your thighs—holding you down, holding you close.

“I saw red,” he panted. “When he said he touched you, I lost my fucking mind. You don’t know what I’d do to someone who thinks they can take you.”

“Satoru—”

“I’d kill for you.”

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning deep in his chest as your walls fluttered around him, wet and full and trembling.

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. “Gonna fill you again. So fucking deep. I want you leaking for days. I want you dripping proof that no one else will ever touch you.”

When he came, it was endless—hot and thick, flooding you completely as he held you tight. His chest pressed to yours, lips ghosting against your cheek. No separation. No air. Just him. All of him. He didn’t pull out and roll away. He stayed inside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding your body against his like a lifeline.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “As long as I breathe, you’re mine.”

#gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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bitters-n-sweets · 3 hours ago

Text

what survived the fire pt. 1 — jack abbot x fem!reader Years after battlefield promises are shattered by war, Jack is haunted by the combat medic who saved his life—until she walks into his ER, very much alive.

[flashback]

"Don't you die on me, Jack."

Jack's eyes fluttered, blood staining his teeth when he coughed. You caught the splatter against your cheek and didn’t even flinch. He tried to speak, and you silenced him with a firm shake of your head.

"You promised me coffee when this is all over, remember? You can't go back on your word now."

You pressed harder on his wound, felt the strain in your body, but you wouldn't give up. You wouldn't let him go. The blast had taken out a lot of people, left the rest of the convoy a disaster.

But all you could see was the man in front of you. The surgeon who had come to the field a few weeks ago, who worked with his sleeves rolled up, with his sharp senses and wit, who had made you laugh when you forgot what laughter sounded like amidst the blood and chaos.

And he was dying in your arms.

[present day]

Jack sits upright suddenly as another nightmare courses through him, sweat clinging to his skin. He's been having the same nightmare for the 3rd time this week. Always about you.

He's never stopped thinking about you. You were the one thing he looked forward to on his last tour a few years ago. He didn't even know why he said yes to the deployment in the first place, but getting to know you made it more than bearable.

Jack decides to come in early for his shift. He's got nothing better to do anyway, and it's not like he'll be able to sleep some more.

"Jack?" Robby calls as he sees him, "You're way too early."

"Can't sleep." He says, colder than usual without realizing.

"The same nightmare again?"

Jack's jaw tenses. "Yeah."

[flashback]

“What’s your life like?” you’d asked, your voice low. “Outside all of this mess.”

The two of you were tucked behind a supply tent, sharing a small, half-empty bottle of whiskey passed between gloved hands. It was late. And after a long, hard day, you both needed a friend.

Jack leaned back against the canvas wall, eyes on the stars like they might offer a real answer. “Still in the ER. Still patching people up. Going to therapy. Dodging my self-destructive habits.”

You blinked, surprised. “Therapy? Huh.”

“What?” he asked, almost smiling.

“Didn’t expect that,” you admitted. “No offense, but guys in this line of work don’t usually line up for therapy.”

Jack shrugged, taking another sip. “Guess I got tired of trying to outrun my own head. Figured I’d give something else a shot.”

You watched him in the dim light, shadows softening the edges of his face. There was something vulnerable in the way he said it—something that made you feel warm inside.

“You’re a good man, Jack,” you said, quiet and sure.

He glanced at you then, unsure of how to process what you just said. His hand brushed yours when he reached for the bottle again, but he didn’t pull away. Neither did you.

[present day]

"I can't stop dreaming about her." Jack says, knowing it's Robby behind the railing of the rooftop.

Robby steps up beside him, leaning on the cold railing. "Well what's she like?"

Jack lets out a quiet chuckle, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "She was young. But not really—she had this old soul thing going. Like she’d seen more than most of us and still came out swinging."

"She's smart. Stubborn. Brave. Had this spark that could light up the darkest places... she’d rock anyone’s world."

Robby doesn’t speak, just listens.

"I promised her we’d get coffee when it was over. I’d show her around town, give her something normal... let her into the parts of my life that didn’t hurt.” Jack’s voice breaks just slightly. "I wanted her to see something good for once." Jack fights the tears threatening to fall over.

"She saved my life, Robby. And I couldn’t save her."

"Is she...?" Robby leaves his question unfinished.

Jack sighs. "MIA. That’s all they told me. No body. No signs. Just—gone. So they slapped on a label and called it closure."

He laughs bitterly under his breath, because the system failed them.

[flashback]

"So what's your life like?" Jack asked you this time.

You looked at him and chuckled. "Not much. Been here my whole life, never knew anything else besides GSWs and traumas."

Jack went quiet.

"Sorry, that's too depressing." You laughed awkwardly. "Um, I like jazz, or blues. Whiskey is a new thing I like—thanks to you, and uh.. here's something weird, I used to want to be a writer. I don’t know, stupid dream, I guess. Never really had the time."

"It's not stupid," Jack said. "Wanting something quieter, gentler than this."

"Gentler?"

"Yeah." He said. "You're still carrying something good, something calm in you. Don't lose that."

You tried to play it off, laughing softly as you looked down at your boots. "You say stuff like that and I forget we’re sitting in a field hospital with six wounded and a crate of morphine that’s probably expired."

Jack smiled. "You make this place bearable. At least to me."

You met his eyes then. And something in your chest shifted—makes you want to lean on him.

"Someday," he said, voice low and sure, "I hope you write about it. All of it."

You shook your head with a quiet laugh. "Only if you promise to read it."

"Deal."

[present day]

Jack's back at work, buried with patients and he feels like his head is about to explode. He's halfway through reviewing charts at the nurses' station when Gloria calls him over.

"Got a minute?"

Jack doesn’t even look up. "Robby's not here."

"Wasn't looking for him."

With a heavy sigh, he sets the chart down and rubs the bridge of his nose before stepping around. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Gloria?"

"We’ve got a new trauma fellow transferring in today. She’s doing her first rotation with you."

Jack glances at the folder Gloria hands him, flipping through it without giving much thought. The name doesn’t register at first—he’s skimming more out of habit than curiosity. "Okay, is she here yet?"

"She should arrive any second now—oh, there she is."

Jack turns.

And time stops.

You’re standing just past the entrance, signing in with Ahmad, your coat slung over one arm with a stethoscope in your pocket. The light catches your face—you look older, changed, but he'd recognize you anywhere.

His stomach drops. He forgets how to breathe. Jack hears his own heart in his ears, pounding so hard it’s drowning out the sounds of the ward. He doesn’t move. Can’t.

You don’t see him at first, too busy scanning the ER. But then your gaze lands on his.

You freeze. Your expression shifts—confusion, disbelief, almost afraid. "J-Jack?"

Gloria glances between the two of you, puzzled. "You two... know each other?"

Jack doesn’t answer. He’s still staring at you like you’re a ghost—because as far as he knew, you were.

-----

a/n: i can't get him out of my head help

#dr jack abbot #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x female reader #female reader #the pitt #dr abbot #dr abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot x fem reader #fem reader

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whosyourmommy69 · 22 hours ago

Text

Always Something

this story contains mature content

based of this post

Your back hits the mattress hard, breath leaving your lungs in a shaky gasp. Rafe’s on top of you before you can blink, mouth pressed to your throat, his body caging you in.

“You always run that pretty mouth until I shut it for you,” he mutters, lips dragging along your collarbone. His voice is low, rough with anger, and something else. Something darker.

Your nails dig into his back, just below his shoulder blades. “You didn’t shut anything, Rafe. I let you talk because I felt bad for you.”

He’s looking down at you with that smug, half-unhinged smirk that always makes your stomach drop and your thighs clench.

“You always talk the most shit right before I fuck the attitude outta you,” Rafe mutters, voice rough with arousal and contempt. “It’s like you want to be put in your place.”

You arch an eyebrow, even as your body betrays you, already pulsing for him.

“Go ahead, Rafe. Do it, then,” you bite out, breathless but defiant. “If you think you can.”

His expression darkens. “Oh, baby. You don’t want to test me tonight.”

You do, though. You always do. Because this is how it starts every time with an argument, a slammed door, your bodies colliding like war and worship. You live for this sick little cycle.

He lets go of one wrist just long enough to rip your shirt over your head, exposing your chest to the warm, humid air of his room. He doesn’t even look, he just leans down and sinks his teeth into the curve of your breast, sucking a bruise into your skin while his other hand fumbles with his belt.

You whimper, trying to wriggle your wrist free again, but he just grabs both and shoves them harder into the mattress.

“Stop fighting me. You love this shit.”

His pants hit the floor. Then his boxers. You barely have time to breathe before he’s sliding your panties down your legs, not bothering to undress you fully,he never does. He likes it better, half-dressed, like he couldn’t wait.

And he couldn’t. His cock’s already hard, tip flushed and leaking. He glances down at you, eyes flicking from your parted lips to the heat between your thighs.

He strokes himself once. Twice. Lines himself up.

“You're wet already?” he scoffs. “God, you’re pathetic.”

“Then why are you so hard for me?” you shoot back, voice wobbling despite your bravado.

That sets him off.

He thrusts into you hard, so deep, so fast it knocks the wind out of you. Your back arches off the mattress, mouth falling open in a silent cry.

And Rafe doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust, just starts fucking you in that rough, relentless rhythm that makes the headboard slam against the wall.

You can’t think. Can’t speak. All the things you were going to yell at him vanish with every brutal snap of his hips.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he pants, grabbing your jaw with one hand and squeezing just enough to make your eyes water. “What happened to all that attitude?”

Your hands are still pinned. Your legs wrap around him, heels digging into the small of his back like you’re trying to climb inside him trying to fuse and fight all at once.

even when your mouth is spitting venom.

“I hate you,” you whisper, staring up at him through heavy lashes.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“I. Hate. You.”

His pace picks up, rough and relentless, his breath hot against your jaw. “Yeah? You hate me so much you keep coming back.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust. “Keep letting me fuck you like this.”

“Hate me. Hate me while you cum all over my cock.”

He lets go of your wrists just long enough to slide his hand between your bodies, pressing two fingers to your clit in harsh circles. Your back bows. Your moans get louder, breath catching in your throat as the pressure builds too fast.

“Rafe-”

“That’s it. Say my name. Moan it like a little slut.”

You do. Over and over. You’re seconds away from cuming and you both know it.

He leans down, forearm braced beside your head, pressing your body deeper into the bed with his weight. His chest is slick with sweat, his jaw clenched tight, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to crawl inside your mind and ruin you from the inside out.

“You’re mine,” he growls, slamming into you. “Say it.”

You shake your head. That’s the one thing you won’t give him.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back just enough to bare your throat. His lips press there, voice low and threatening.

“Say. It.”

You come instead.

Hard.

Your body convulses, clenching around him, heat flooding your core as stars explode behind your eyes. You cry out his name, nails raking down his back, sobbing with the release you didn’t want to give him but needed more than air.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it, chasing his own high now, groaning against your neck like he’s breaking apart with you.

“Fuck,fuck, you feel so good”

He buries himself one last time, grinding deep, and then he’s spilling inside you with a strangled moan, arms shaking as he holds himself up over your trembling body.

Silence falls. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the bed under your weight.

He finally collapses beside you, chest heaving, hand reaching to tangle in your hair again, this time softer. Thumb brushing over your cheek.

You don’t move. You can’t. Your body feels shattered, like every nerve is still short-circuiting from him.

“You hate me, huh?” he murmurs after a long moment. “Still wanna say that?”

You turn your head to glare at him, eyes half-lidded. “I do.”

He smirks. That lazy, dangerous grin that always spells trouble.

“Good. We’ll go again in five.”

I stayed up all night writing this I hope yall like it!

#fanfiction #rafe cameron #obx fic #obx rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #fanfic #rafe x you #rafe angst #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #dividers by dollywons

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w-40-k · 3 days ago

Text

First of an addition to my previous post (I forgot about);

The son who was the inside help to steal the panacea, participated in the conflict to free the lion,

(partially in an attempt to redeem (read atone) himself, but also what is basically a suicide mission from the rest of the honour guard

[bit of a sink or swim thing, if he lives great! If not, well thats one less hazzard to deal with, (the conflict to free the lion is *brutal*)])

and he is gravely *injured*, but surrives to see the lion freed by Mortarion.

(*Dying* is easy, it's what he's bred and raised to do; *living* with the knowledge that you are part of the reason for all of this suffering on the other hand, now *that* can break a man.

'I didn't *die*; this is a sign from the Emporer that i am to do do my penance by living'

[he's banished from the home guard by the sons and would've also never again be allowed to set foot onthe 500 worlds itself too, if not for the intervention of Guilliman.

Who, whilst disquieted by the fact that the gambit can be exploited like that, sees that the son (I propose that he's named Archillies; for how his one weakness was exploited) is genuinely remorseful for his actions and so finds Archillies a suitable task to accomplish that keeps him out of the sons way (there are those within the home guard, who hold the opinion, Archillies should've died in the Liberation of the Lion)])

On the Emporer;

The emperor isn't actively *malicious*, just suffering from a case of 'my way or the highway' in addition to thinking he knows whats best for humanity (and also having been around long enough to witness every single single combination of fuck up).

He was also very much on a *time crunch*, with the human webway project as his his no. 1 priority.

Love or hate the guy, he just plain doesn't have *time* to care about anything that doesn't involve his plan for humanity.

(The horrors beyond your comprehension are very much out to *get* you and they would love nothing more then to see you fail [and will help *make* it so if given half a chance])

Also 'carring' from the perspective of an imortal (perpetual) who's additionally also made up off like a million spykers is going to be different to that of your average (trans)human.

(YMMV on if the emperor rid himself of parts of his humanity over time to better focus on his plan without distractions. Because if he *did*, that means he literally *can't* care about the fates of individuals.)

'Oh Angron is sad about his friends and he also has *literal* nails in his head? Can he still do what I tell him to though? Yes? Great. Moving on to issue no. 1,687,777'

On interactions between the trio;

That's going to be a dozy.

Because you've got lion, who *looks* the oldest but is actually the youngest in terms of actual *lived* experience.

(YMMV on how the warp fucked with how long the infant primarchs spent in the warp and on their planets prior to being found by emps.)

And Lion and Guilliman are going to discuss things that happened ten millennia ago like they recently happened (because to them it *is* recent) and Mortarion can only go 'huh, I guess that *was* a thing that happened back then'

Mortarion who has, for the most part (because warp), actually *lived* through most of the past ten millennia, get's to occasionally fill in blanks in the other two's knowledge with first hand accounts of events.

In general things are going to be *akward*.

You have Guilliman; whom he killed (in a very gruesome manner even. oh and because of his eideitic memory he remembers *every second* of it ), and who actively has to suppress his fight or flight instinct when they interact.

And Lion whom he freed (from a very long time of improvement) but who also wants to show solidarity with Guilliman.

(Lion and Guilliman have some very long conversations, because they each other are the only people (on the same level as a primarch) who *gets* what they went through.

The wide open sky, suddenly narrowed to just a window, the knowledge that there's nothing you can do to change it *either*. The sheer bloody difference of being able to do *everything* to suddenly *not* fucks with them the most.

In addition to the broken trust for Guilliman and the knowledge that this could happen again to the *both* of them.)

But Mortarion is an older, male figure who has been around the block and knows this galaxy like the back of his hand. He's turned over a new leaf (both to free his sons and for the hope of a brighter future) and he is *reliable* because he has an incentive to do so.

That's to say he is someone who can watch *over* the other two,

(Guilliman has conflicted feelings on this; is his death at Mortarion's hand *worse* then feeling of betrayal he felt when the sons enacted their plan to collar him?

The feeling of helplessness at decaying alive in real time without anything to do about it [primal fear of death] vs helplessness at having that collar forced on him out of a twisted sense of love from the sons [primarch reduced to just a man]

And Mortarion may be gruff, but in his own way he's making an effort to acomodate Guilliman's needs.

He does this partially out of practicality;

Guilliman is more useful if he can actually focus on the task in front of him. But also because, seeing another primarch -a demigod for all intents and purposes- acutely try to *suppress* his fight and flight instinct, unsettles something deep within Mortarion.

Mortarion does not regret what he did to Guilliman [godblight] itself, but now he is confronted with the active consequences of his actions and decides he wants to do something about it.

[The person who caused you so much pain, also being the one to try and ease it, is the most conflicting for Guilliman; it would be easier to deal with, if Mortarion would be cruel or even indifferent]

He offers lion similar accommodations, but since there's less bad blood [read trauma] between these two it's... easier.)

almost like the emperor, if he actually *cared* (YMMV on if the emperor has the capacity to care, re: discarded humanity).

Also speaking of Mortarion;

Now that he's with the Emporer and out from under Nurgle's thumb, he's (also the DG to a degree if were honest) probably going to have a midlife crisis at some point.

Because he had ten millennia to grow (no pun intended) and settle into the person he is now.

Detangle the mess of what is actually him and what is Nurgle's influence on him (because deamon princes shift over time such, that their desires and wishes align with those of their patron)

Figure out what parts of himself he wants to keep and what to get rid of.

Figure out who he wants to be as a *person*.

(Boy's got *alot* of introspection to do, but at least he has his sons, who are in the same boat.

Though he doesn't tell them that,

[bit of a conflict between, happy he isn't alone in this and wishing his sons wouldn't have to go through this, even as he's *glad*, his sons are finally *free* of Nurgle and have the choice to be anything that they want to be (well, within reason, those are *still* astartes)])

All of that in addition to the at mimimun severe body dismorphya he (and the DG) deals with now.

(That's to say, even if the emperor *only* gets rid of the millions of diseases he carries in addition to the actual rotting bits

[just to the point that it is *safe* for your average baseline to exist in Mortarion's general vicinity]

that's still a *huge* adjustment to get used to! [actual *acceptance* is a separate matter *entirely*]

Because whilst those changes [Nurgle] were forced on him, they've been a part of him for long enough that they became *him* [Mortarion].

The emperor also can't draw the process of removing them out for *too* long, because of the eventuality that Mortarion actually needs to fight *alongside* baselines, who would very much prefer *not* decompose on the spot [like Guilliman (also this is would be terrible for Mortarion's and the DG already less then *stellar* reputation)])

Now that I think on it this would actually gain him some newfound sympathy towards his sons and astartes in general.

(The process of turning a baseline into astartes and also astartes into primaris [also, dreadnoughts] are some pretty drastic changes that most don't get to have a lot of say in. And those changes fundamentally *change* you up to the *molecular* level.

That's at a minimum some pretty severe body *dismorphya* if not outright body *horror*.)

On Lorgar;

OK, I wrote that bit about lorgar's vision to essentially be lorgar seeing that vision at some random point and going 'huh, neat. Anyway moving on' but now that you mention the possibility of redemption...

The emperor has his fingers in many pies and with the chaos god distracted (angron dead, morty a turncoat) he was able to manipulate the warp such, that lorgar saw this vision of a future that was not to be.

(more like lorgar sees fragments of *something*, gets curious and investigates [i imagine lorgar to be similar to the religious scholars of the islam during the middle ages, religious but also a man of learning] only to see the whole thing for himself in the end)

This (lorgar) was the emporer's back up plan in the eventuality that Mortarion would've either hesitated to long or outright *refused* the emperor's offer (morty *didn't*, but it never hurts to be prepared)

Also this would've been a plan in the making for a *very* long time (relatively speaking, because warp). For the emporer knows a vassal, who you can convince and agrees with you, is more loyal then one you brought to it's knees by force.

(None of the deamon princes, sans *maby* lorgar have actually been properly *seduced* to join chaos and the emperor *knows* and can *exploit* that. So lorgar gets the *propper* seduction treatment.

But like, for our purposes, imagine lorgar as a deamon who gets seduced by whats essentially an angel [biblical accurate angel].

Also Lorgar is *the* religion guy; would be a missed opportunities if we *didn't* take advantage of some classic themes you know?)

In general I don't know a huge amount about lorgar, so any corrections are very much appropriated (do right by your favorite guy).

However anykind of redemption would include only lorgar and exclude the WB (what with faith and your personal approach to it beeing a pretty *intimate* thing, like, say with the Anchorrite.)

Speaking of the Anchorrite;

That reunion would go over relatively well I imagine. With the Anchorrite gladened that his father finally, at last has returned to the light (no pun intended).

Pherhaps there might be something of an exchange of roles for those two; with the Anchorrite taking on the role of a guide for newly returned lorgar.

Help proppely aquaint lorgar with the imperial cult, smooth over tension between lorgar and others of the faith (show him the ropes so to speak).

Also Lorgar (after figuring out how to fit his personal views on religion and emperor into the established canon of the imperial cult that is) will be *fascinated*, at a *minimum* from a religious scientific standpoint, in regards to how the imperial cult diverged from his original scriptures over time (because scholar).

And after he has had time to prove his mettle, I could see specifically the adepts soriatas taking a shine to him.

(faithful, zealous and with a scholar focus for lorgar that would gel pretty well with the branches that have a greater focus on the *nun* aspect of the sisters.

I'm now also remembering that the sisters actually respect the imperial guard quite a bit and *that* in turn reminds me of the repentias and penal legions in general.

Say, lorgar becomes to be regarded as something of a patron for the rempetias and penal legions (everyone who does penitence). Because if something as *wretched* and *corrupt* as a *deamon prince* managed to find the light, then *surely*, *they* can as well?

On training between the trio and apologies;

Frankly, I think it's too early for anyone to even be willing to give the people, who might feel inclined to offer an apology, the time of day to listen to.

Let the *traitors* prove their mettle, who knows if they won't just turn turncoat *again* at a critical moment.

(Lion and Guilliman make an *effort* to to not have anyone call those formerly aligned with chaos that to their *face*, but they very much understand the sentiment, even if the duo disproves on the basis that name calling is pretty disadvantageous from a unit cohesion standpoint)

And because of the eventuality of them fighting on the same battle field is a fact that happens regardless of the preferences of those involved,

(far way in case of Guilliman and sons because of the trauma they have because of Mortarion, also to a lesser extent lion and sons in regards to lorgar [who wasn't *personally* a part of the fighting, but very much *orchestrated* the whole thing].

The are also countless numbers of imperial citizens, who *suffere*d at the hands of lorgar and Mortarion in some fashion, directly or otherwise)

training *needs* to happen, because the Imperium *needs* every ally it can get and it cannot afford anything but *absolute* cohesion if they want a *chance* at standing against any of the millions of foes constantly asaling them from all sides.

'Oh, you have trauma from this honestly very fucked up thing that happened to you? Well to bad! The thing trying to eat us isn't just going to wait for you to pull yourself together. If you falter and slow us down, we are *all* going to be screwed!'

In regards to the sons (UM and DA) I could pherhaps imagine some pretty extreme form of exposure therapy beeing employed to get a lid on the gambit (they cannot afford to be distracted trying to murder their allies when the tyranid swarm in front of them wants to eat that hive over there)

Like, start out by put singular DG behind glass walls so the sons can't murder them and thus to get used to their cousins presence.

Guilliman (accompanied by lion) forces himself to have polite conversations with Mortarion face to face (first a distance away and slowly reducing the distance over time, then at some point escalate to unarmed sparring.)

But this is very much a long term plan that needs to be enacted in an unfortunately short amount of time.

Interestingly, some of the fallen would secretly (deathwish if that comes out) hold some measure of admiration for Mortarion for returning their father to to them. Also because if someone like a deamon primarch can find the light then surely they can *too*

(Specifically Mortarion because, he turned turncoat in the hope for a brighter tomorrow and to safe his sons, oposed to lorgar who was outraged at future that was not.

Morty's slightly more approachable in that his motives are viewed as somewhat more *selfless*, compared to the somewhat more *self-centred* motives of lorgar)

On lion forest walking and corvus;

OK, from what I understand the lion's forest walking thing is just him able to enter the warp, but with a caliban flavored aesthetic because lion's the one perceiving things and the warp (made of emotions, dreams ambitions works on *concepts*) accommodates.

Corvus would probably want to keep an eye(s because he's more warp entity then primarch at that point) on lorgar. He'd probably have an easier time just shadowing (no pun intended) lorgar on his quest of the truth (lorger during the time he's still a deamon prince and given hints of a vision from emps), as oposed to having to actually track down lion in the warp (neddle in a haystack essentially).

I think corvus might prefer to stay independent from the Imperium (not join emps, because emps is very much both a god-but-not and in the end a *tyrant*, something corvus very much doesn't gel with), but would assist if called upon. He takes on something of the role of a guidance counsel in regards to lorgar (emps puts corvus on the task, but corvus was planing to do that *anyway*)

Lastly, a point in general;

With Angron dead, Morty and Lorgar turned turncoats (and Corvus being Imperium-aligned), this puts chaos at a pretty *severe* disadvantage.

(Chaos; Fulgrim [EC], Perty [IW], [WB], [NL], (AL), [BL/SoH], Magnus [TS] = 10

Imperium; Guilliman [UM], Lion [DA], Mortarion [DG], Lorgar, (Corvus) [RG], [S], [IF], [IH], [SW], [WS], (AL) = *15*)

This isn't just a numbers issue *either*;

Without morty and Angron that's two chaos gods without a deamon primarch(prince), in *addition* to the knowledge morty and Lorgar have on chaos that the imperium can use to it's advantage.

That doesn't only mean strategic advantages but also a loss of *faith* in chaos

(also from an in universe, meta perspective the imperium is seen as *winning* and the warp *thrives* on meta.

That's going to weaken the influence of the chaos gods as a *whole*, but also *specifically* Nurgle and Khorne. In turn this actively *strengthens* the Emporer, who can more easily intervene because of this)

And as fun as it is for our little guys to win for once, we need to even the playing field.

(Wouldn't really be 40k if the Imperium isn't bearly skidding by *just* by the very skin of their teeth you know)

[I also had this whole spiel about how chaos makes for an excellent *personal* antagonist.

Because corruption is very *intimate* and there's a whole spectrum of motivations for *why* a person can be corrupted (Erebus to Archillies) and whilst there is a ton of other foes for the Imperium to fight, a guardsman Turing traitor for the tau vs getting corrupted by *chaos* will always just hit different [*literal* alien life form vs actually *eldritch* abominable]

The closest a faction gets to that aspect are the gene steelers, but there it's more about *generations* as oposed to actual *individuals*]

[I would like point out that i didn't set *out* to give khorne and Nurgle replacements, but it kind of just worked out that way!

Also this is very much playing on the seductive, manipulative nature of chaos]

Then I remembered that fun little tidbit about how Russ vanished trying to find the fruit of life, in an effort to restore the emperor to life.

The fruit of life which is theorised to be related to Isha (eldar goodness of healing), or located to be within nugles garden.

So, say Russ actually managed to find and gain entrance to the Garden but he has been lost within it's maze like depths.

Russ is stubborn and above all *loyal* but in the face of a *god* he is but a man.

It begins with small things (wispered hints about clues if only he would listen during moments of respite, the last words of some corrupted wretch who despite everything still clings to it's former self before he cuts them down) and slowly but steadily increases over time.

And Nurgle has all the time in the world.

Russ knows this, for as much as he excelled at playing the brute he is far more *intelligent* them many would give him credit for. Thus he decides to pick his battles whilst he still *can* and makes a *choice*.

The fruit of life safly delivered to the Alfather to restore him to life in exchange for Russ' loyalty and soul.

Nurgle -gladdended by a plan coming to fruition and the prospect of another child to embrace his ways- eagerly agrees.

The bargin is *struck* and all comes to pass as was agreed upon.

The fruit is delivered within the emperor's very own throne room and would indeed restore the emperor back to life.

However; such would be life by the definition of an alien god. Who does indeed love all his children equally, but does not differentiate between a microbe and a human.

Russ for his part knows only that his journey is at it's end, glad to have sentenced himself to an eternity of damnation if it means the Alfather restored to life.

(Ok, so in my mind russ knows everything within the garden is corruption itself, so he basically subsisted of off stubbornness and pride, still alive *only*, because his nature as a primarch allows him to draw on the warp.

At some point he falls into a bog and has to crawl his way out on hands and feet. During which he turns into a bit of a bog mummy [complete with red hair; a nod to the old red haired russ designs], not yet *fully* mummified but *definitely* on his way towards one.

After he strikes the bargin he turns into a full bog mummy but with tons of moss and other wet land plants growing on him

[Growth and renewal as oposed to morty's theme of death and decay)

Basically he turns into something akin to mummified ganondorf from the second breath of the wild game in terms of looks [id reccomend watching a trailer for extra spooky] but with more plants.

At this point the SW in general, but especially any of the Rune priests (SW version of spykers) feel a *disturbance* in the force. And even without a stomach Bjorn the Fell Handed, get's the phantom feeling of a sinking feeling in his gut, like something is seriously *wrong*. This actually awakens him and spooks whoever happens to be close by.

The emperor for his part sees the fruit, puts the pieces together what his loyal son *did* and orders the caretakers to relocate the fruit to the vaults beneath the imperial Palace [the place he keeps everything powerful and dangerous enough that he doesn't want people to have.]

Russ himself even post bargin isn't just going to become a deamon prince or champion, no that needs to be something he *ears*, but the influence Nurgle has on him now could make it so that Russ might one day become that.

[For the purposes of this au let's say he won't, but in the event of the emperor's *return*(to life) this might be reconsidered.])

After Russ I *also* remembered a comment under a YouTube video discussing the possibility of Dorn's return.

The commenter wrote that a returned Dorn would be *disgusted* by the state of the current Imperium and want nothing to do with it. Then they went on to write, that they would want a returned Dorn to play into the disgruntled soldier aesthetic.

So let's do just that.

Rogal was last seen fighting abord a traitor ship during M31 and is presumed to be dead or missing. [YMMV but I'm going with the version of him missing with only his hand recovered (in posession of the IF and treated as a chapter relic)]

So, say he's been fighting all this time, pherhaps alongside a small group of various individuals,

(human or otherwise, because frankly, if there's *deamons* the actual *alien lifeform* isn't so bad now [at least *those* actually *stay* dead when you kill them))

fighting to surrive, to pherhaps some day get out of here (warp) and back into the *realspace* itself.

(You wish and you shall receive)

During a long winded conflict, Rogal Dorn and his Companions actually manage to enact a highly dangerous plan with a great chance of failure that let's them transition to realspace successfully!

They are out!

Except they are confronted with a large scale battle in which they are immediately forced to defend themselves from because the vessel they arrived in happened to be of xeno orgin.

After another harrowing conflict that they managed to escape with their lives only by the very skin of their *teeth*, they take refuge in what for all intents and purposes is a pirate heaven (xenos and human).

They have but a moment to breath before they are pressganged into joining one of the many pirate crews.

Dorn, for the sake the Companions who he has surrived and fought alongside with bears this though unhappily, for truly, this is still an improvement in comparison to the horrors they faced in the warp.

They once again bide their time, adjusting to existing within the materium once more. Taking a moment to just finally *breath* and truly take in that they are *out*.

However what is harder to adjust to is the sheer *cruelty* and *inefficiency* they encounter at every point. Dorn, who still remembers a time when enlightenment and reason where the bulwark of the Imperium takes this the hardest.

But they endure for they cannot do anything else.

They slowly work their way up the ranks, the resourcefulness and craftiness as well as the bond of their little band shares not going unnoticed (as well as primarch charisma).

After long enough that their time within is not so fresh anymore they, though a combined of stubbornness, competency and sheer *reasonableness* gained enough connections and loyalty to take the heed of their very own small fleet.

They set out determined to bring about the future Dorn remembers he must have laid the foundations for.

Yet whilst they succeed in some minor endeavours, many more times they are stymied and undermined at every point. Where they go to offer aid on one front, three others are over run.

An ambush from an ally who has no choice but to betray them.

A corrupt offical taking more then his cut and thus forcing good men and women to turn to more desperate means.

The incompetence of an overseer which sees those in his charge make mistakes and face punishment as a result.

Warfronts that begin to resemble mass graves rather then battle fields because of the delayed survival of supplies.

Dorn -stalwart, reliable, *patient* Dorn- may have a long memory and hold the might of a primarch but there is only so much he will take before he decides 'enough is enough' and turn to more drastic measures, because if every attempt at employing reasonable means *fail*, unreasonable means *will* be taken.

He is a builder and he knows sometimes the only way is to tear everything to the *ground* and build *anew*.

(Ok, imagine the competence and reasonable attitude of caiaphas cain, but with the luck of the lamenters mixed with general 40k nastiness.

And dorn in this embodys the last part of the proverb; 'there are three things all wise man fear; the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.

Whilst i wouldn't nessecarily describe Dorn as gentle per say, he is someone who's honest, patient, competent, reasonable and *compassionate* who tries to do the right thing in a time that, more often then not, actively *punishes* that.

And whilst he is stoic this doesn't make him unfeeling, moreso akin to a very deep still lake.

He tried for a *very* long time, but at some point even he recognises he's fighting a lost cause.

[A bit like a child who is outraged to discover that the world is cruel, but instead of accepting that, he is determined to change things so the world *becomes* kind, like the way he *knows* it can and *should* be.]

Khorne in this, would *love* to have Dorn as a deamon prince. Because in a universe as cruel as 40k, Dorn will never run out of things to *fight* [a fundamental clash of interests].

So whilst he knows Dorn would never make a pact with him (knowingly), that isn't going to stop Khorne.

Whilst he *prefers* a good, straightforward fight, this doesn't mean he can't be either underhanded or patient. He is a god of *war* and as they say, 'all is fair in love and war'.

So, khorne's been taking a page out of thzeench's book and working things from behind the scene, organising the pieces so that Dorn for the most part only sees the worst of things in all of their ugly, cruel, petty *glory*.

And he doesn't ever have to interact with Dorn (directly) to slowly turn him on his side either.

Have some wretch inform Dorn of some injustice or another with a sufficient target on the other end, and Khorne doesn't even need to lift a finger to point in the direction.

Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows, only that it does.

[In general, Dorn doesn't ever become a propper *worshiper* of chaos (deamon prince or otherwise) but he battles and that's enough for now.

Dorn wants to tear down *everything* and rebuild from the *ground* up. (Bit like how the emperor might [if he hadn't been put on the throne that is])

Looks wise Dorn rocks a beaten down uniform and pieces of something that *migt* at some point have been part of his armour; a mishmash of whatever they managed to get their hands on and because of all of the fighting he's become very lean and unkempt, like he doesn't take care of himself (his Companions *try* but there's only so much you can convince a stubborn demigod to *listen*) and doesn't sleep (primarchs can *theoretically* function on no sleep, but that's going to have an effect)])

Got an angsty idea:

-In Short-

Yandere ultramarines binding/caging/disabling Guilliman at all costs for his own safety. Even if they must hurt him, even break him to do it. No more fulgrim/mortarion incidents.

-In Long-

Basically, what if after witnessing his reckless personal behavior towards personally fighting his brothers and his "death" at the hands of fulgrim as well as his LITERAL death at the hands of Mortarion (regardless of the fact he was brought back, he fucking DIED), the Ultrabois just fucking go full Yandere and try to keep him out of battle and under watch as much as they possibly can to ensure his absolute safety from ANY harm, even himself? And what if this desire, this NEED to keep their primarch, their FATHER, safe went to the extreme as he inevitably tried to get back to business, including personally fighting? He's a primarch after all, weapon first, human second, and his duty is to guide and safeguard the Imperium...

My brain basically had an idea of a gilded bird-caged and bound Guilliman and spun a background around it. Some mental images even include a blindfold and gag for the Ultrabois benefit cuz you know Guilliman's words are some of his best weapons (best way to talk them out of it- to a point).

Very OOC, I know, but with the way the Ultrabois were willing to die in droves to get him away from fulgrim as he was dying AND to protect his stasis before his revival, it seems it could very easily become a possibility via Slaaneshi influence, Lord of Excess and all...

GOD I wish I could draw bodies or write 😭

#warhammer 40k #roboute guilliman #emperor of mankind #lorgar aurelian #lion el'johnson #corvus corax #leman russ #ultramarines #Nurgle #khorne #rogal dorn #<- my favourite guy! Khorne made him *angry* and the galaxy has to suffer for it #bog mummy leamon! let's get a round of applause for wet lands #m #storge mania #ok. but at some point I'm going to make a chart. of who likes who. for convenience sake.

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littlemissstel · 1 day ago

Text

Will You Marry Me? - Shiu Kong

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

proposal gone wrong, fluff, pet names, punctuation warning.

Shiu had surprised you with a trip to your dream destination and you were absolutely reeling. Recently, things for the both of you had been abnormally hectic-- between work, family drama and everything in between, all you could dream about after a long, tiring day was spending some time off with your lover, even if just for a weekend. So when he pulled out two tickets and a brand new suitcase (because he knew you wouldn't pack to fit just one) you practically screamed out of pure delight.

You didn't know what to say at first, excited rambles of unfinished thoughts spilling from you as you packed, and then again when boarding the plane and non-stop ever since you finally landed. Shiu couldn't complain at all about this, finding your nonsensical bursts of joy to be one of the most endearing things he's witnessed during your time together - a good sign that he was doing something right.

On the fourth day of your week-long trip you were beginning to become more acquainted with the area and started to entertain the idea of getting used to it permanently. The culture, the scenery, the food, the people, everything was so rich and filled with beauty that was irresistible to admire. The days were hot and busy when you and Shiu adventured through the streets and while there was still so much to explore, you couldn't deny your favourite, consistent part of your days; the walk along the beach.

Being surrounded by the crowd of strangers- some foreign and some not- who all carried the familiar expression of complete relaxation and happiness was something you would never get enough of. Even back home you had a habit of people watching from your balcony down unto the unsuspecting street, but none of the people there seemed to be as content as the ones here, always rushing and spilling the same over-priced, watered-down coffee from the cafe you knew had a few too many health and safety violations.

At some point Shiu had led you down underneath a pier, a place which shielded you from the sun that was beginning to retreat beyond the horizon and somewhat more secluded from the leisurely crowd.

Sitting on one of the huge stones with Shiu standing next to you, you took a deep breath in, enchanted by the golden-lit sky that soaked the earth in its orange hues.

"It's so so so gorgeous here, Shiu. How did you know to come here?"

"Who knows? Must be my great intuition." he chuffs with comical smugness, earning a look from you.

"Uh-huh, right. Y'know humbleness was never a good look on you."

Letting out a deep laugh he moves closer to you, resting his forearm on your shoulder with slight weight, "I came here on a job a few years ago, thought it would be the perfect place to take someone special."

"So you think I'm special" you coo overdramatically.

"Be quiet."

With amusement you move your hand to smack his butt in retaliation, only to be met with the hard welcoming of something in his pocket. Quickly he moves away, breathing in a sharp "Honey-" but not before you're able to go in for a second time, grabbing his pocket so firmly it will no doubt leave creases in his linen shorts and a ripe red mark.

Mouth hanging open in disbelief you rush out, "What is this!?" to which he wordlessly shakes his head for a few seconds, face mimicking yours, trying to come up with a response.

"I- uhg- fuck! Look- I didn't want to tell you like this-"

"Shiu-"

"It's a spot! A really bad fuckin' spot-- it hurts to sit down and everything!"

"What!?"

"See! I just knew you'd say something about it!"

"Baby, baby, calm down. You really couldn't come up with anything better than a spot?"

"You try coming up with an excuse and see how easy it is." he exasperates, running his hand over his eyes and wincing.

"I'm just saying a rock would've been a better excuse. You expect me to believe you developed a spot of that size within the last, like, two hours?"

"Sweetheart," he sighs, checking his watch and looking back at you with pleading eyes, "you gotta pretend for the next two minutes. I have a huge spot. Nothing happened."

Standing up, you embrace him giggling and feel all his muscles relax into you when you sway side to side, merging into one as you soak up the absurdity of the situation.

"Wow Shiu! Look at the sky, the weathers pretty great here, huh?"

"I love you...but I really don't think acting is your calling."

With the signaling chime of his watch Shiu turns you around, lifting your chin to look in the other direction before he backs away. There, in the centre of the spotless sky, was a plane trailing a banner which read 'Will you marry me?' behind it in bold lettering of your favourite colour. You couldn't help but cackle and run back to him, leaving the man on one knee just enough time to stand up and catch you before you both fell over.

"Yesyesyes! Oh my god! Yes!"

Your face was beaming and so was his, deep smile lines and crescent shaped eyes reflecting yours.

"I had a whole speech prepared!"

"Well you can still say it if you want" you jest. And he does, professing the practiced paragraphs of love he had written months before, detailing his adoration, going off script a little towards the end before finishing with a firm kiss to your face which he littered with a thousand more.

You couldn't stop the laughter pouring out of you as he eased out a relieved 'I love you'.

"I love you too. Even if you did have a spot on your ass."

I've been watching a bunch of early 2000s romance movies. I never realised how cringey and cliche they were before, but i think that's what makes them so great.

MWAH

#jjk shiu #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #shiu kong #shiu x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #shiu kong x reader #fluff

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sxnnimoon · 4 hours ago

Text

Unexpected Revelations

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Author Note: There are spoilers to S2 Ep. 6 in here so I do apologize if you aren’t caught up. It’s mainly two specific scenes and dialogue that I then branch off into my own story but please feel free to go ahead and scroll past this if anything!

Summary: It’s Ellie’s 17th and as Joel comes home early he’s met with a shocking revelation, one he didn’t expect you to be okay with which leads him down the road of acceptance as he comes to term with this foreign topic with you to guide him through it all.

You’d been in the kitchen when Joel arrived home

early to surprise Ellie for her birthday.

“You’re home early.” you say as he comes to give you a kiss on the forehead, placing the cake next to you.

“I said I'd do what I could to get here to surprise ‘er” he makes a face at you.

“Don’t pull that on me.” you sass. “Go on and wash up so you can help me set the table.”

“In a minute I'm gonna surprise Ellie.” he says, taking the cake, already making strides up the stairs as it hits you.

“Shit.” you whisper. “Joel, wait!”

You rush after him, nearly tripping on your own feet going up the stairs as you hear him.

“Exactly. What the fuck?” he says as you come up right behind him. “Get outta here.”

“No wait.” Ellie begins to say.

“Joel!” you butt in, he turns from you to Ellie as you both speak at once.

“You’re supposed to be on patrol.” she looks at you. “Y/n what the fuck?”

“I came home early to surprise you for your birthday, seventeen by the way.” you cut him off as you move to step into the room.

“I didn’t think Kat would still be here by the time he came home.” you say calmly. “Kat hun? I think it’s best you get going..” you say trying not to be harsh as she gathers her things. Mentally groaning as Joel notices the tattoo gun and such.

“Fuck is that?” he looks from Kat to Ellie, going for her arm.

“It’s not done yet, it’s gonna-” you cut her off with a sign of no not wanting to fuel more to the fire that was Joel Miller at the moment.

“So all the teenage shit at once, huh?” he starts.

“Joel..” you warn him. “I need you to be calm right now.”

“Drugs.. and tattoos .. and sex.” he continues, ignoring you trying to talk him down. “Experimenting with.. uh.. with- with girls ?”

He turns to face you, “And you knew about this? You allowed this?”

“It wasn’t sex and it wasn’t a fucking experiment.” Ellie defends herself before you could speak.

“You don’t know what you're saying..” he says, confusion and frustration in his voice.

“Joel!” you step in between them, shielding Ellie. “You need to calm down.”

You point at him. Ellie removes herself from your arm as she stands behind you.

“Walk on out of this room and calm yourself.” your voice stern as you point to the door, eyes fixed on him.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re yourself.” he says before slamming the door, leaving you and Ellie alone.

“Ellie..” you say as you look at her.

“Don’t,” she sighs. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Are you alright?” you take her hand, as she jumps from the contact before accepting it.

“I will be.” She looks down and then at the wall. “I just feel so trapped.”

She goes to sit on her bed.

“I can imagine he’s done worse things at my age, I'm sure you have too.” she exclaims, making you nod.

“Well.. yes.” you come over to sit on the floor in front of her. “But, he is not familiar with this whole thing. He’s not used to two girls being together. He’s from Texas bug, they are as conservative as they come.”

“You’re the complete opposite of him,” she says softly. “Why'd you pick him out of everyone here?”

“For…many reasons.” you smile and giggle as Ellie’s face grimaces.

“Gross.” she shivers and fake gags.

“Listen,” you take her hand. “I’ll talk to him and see where I get through his thick skull and maybe we’ll see about moving you into the garage?”

“Why can’t I do that now?” she looks at you.

“Ellie.” you give her a look making her put her hands up in defense.

“Okay, okay.” she says as you get up.

“Dinner is done if you’re hungry, not exactly plated but it’s done.” You shrug. “It’s alright to eat up here if you still need the space too.”

Ellie nods as you close the door behind you making your way to find Joel. You’d searched everywhere only to find him out back on the porch. Leaning against the pillar you knocked on it to get his attention, making him turn in your direction.

“Come to scold me?” he said, clearly grumpy.

“I actually came to just talk but if that’s how you want to be grumpy..” you push off to walk away feeling his hand grab yours.

“Hey..” his voice is softer now. “I’m sorry..”

You hum in response, “I don’t think I'm the one that deserves an apology right now.”

He stays quiet.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“How long have I known what exactly?” your leaning against the pillar again, arms crossed.

“Bout Ellie,” he says. “Her and..”

He’s hesitant, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Her and liking girls.” he finally says, the words sounding so foreign off his accent.

“For a while.” you admit. “Since you both allowed me into your lives actually.”

He’s silent.

“I trust her, Joel.” you state. “It may be a learning process but I trust her decisions.”

“She’s confused,” he says. “It’ll be over with.”

“Except you're wrong.” you began, “She’s not and it won’t. It’s a part of her and it’s not going away.”

“Are you actually condoning this?” he looks at you.

“Why shouldn't I?” you look at him confused. “She’s one year away from 18 and she's developing into her own person. She’s allowed these things.”

He stands up and starts pacing back and forth, hand running through his hair.

“It’s not right!” his voice gets higher in octave.

“Watch it..” you warn him.

“Why should I?!” he exclaims, continuing on his ramble of disapproval.

Little did the pair know they had a visit peeking in on them as Ellie stood in the kitchen listening to them argue.

“I will not have my daughter be-” you cut Joel off.

“She’s my daughter too!” you yelled, both soon turning silent. “She’s my daughter just as much as yours Joel.”

He just looks at you not saying a word.

“You may not accept her but I do.” you point to yourself. “You need to understand there is nothing wrong with this. You're going to lose her more than you think.”

You were now closer to him, “You’re going to apologize to her and I'm going to help you accept this all.”

Leaving him to ponder in his thoughts you enter the kitchen staring at the food that was made. You sigh.

“So much for a nice dinner.” you say before getting containers to put the food away for later, washing dishes as you go. Once done you make your way back upstairs to check on Ellie one more time before heading to your shared room to get ready for bed. Joel came in finally to do the same as it started to rain.

“I’m gonna get a glass of water, do you want one?” he asks before leaving the room once you shake your head no as you go back to reading your book of the week.

You’d been so wrapped up in it when you started to hear commotion from the hall and then Joel and Ellie’s voices making you shoot up. As you enter the hall you see Joel wrestling with Ellie and her mattress.

“The hell you doing?” he asks her.

“I’m moving into the garage.” She stays between struggles as he stands in front of the mattress. “Y/n said it’d be okay”

“The hell?” he turns not expecting you to be there. “The hell you are. Ellie let go.”

She scoffs trying to push again.

“It’s the middle of the night, it’s pissin rain out there. Get this back on the bed. There’s no heat or running water, you’re not staying out there.”

“Okay fine.” she lets go of the mattress, dropping it to the floor.

“Alright you wanna have this conversation.” he starts making you grab his arm.

“It’s late, now isn’t the time for this.” you say.

“No it’s happening.” he says training back to Ellie. “You may not like the rules but this is my house.” he tries to stand his ground, Ellie immediately corrects him leaving Joel quiet where he stood.

“Look, I'm sorry I got a tattoo and smoked weed and fooled around with a girl.” Ellie’s tone calms, “Except I'm not.”

Joel turns to you as he contemplates what to say next, knowing he feels horrible about this all.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, hand running along his back. “It’s alright.”

“Maybe it is a good idea for you to have your own space.” he says, turning back to Ellie. “Just give me a few days and I'll fix it up for you.”

Ellie nods. “Okay.”

After Ellie’s bed is put back together you watch as Joel examines her tattoo. Makes you notice even more how she tenses up when he asks what it means. You understood its significance but felt it was best not to tell him it. Joel walks past you after he bids her goodbye, giving you a quick kiss. Once out of sight you walk closer pulling Ellie into a side hug.

“I’m proud of you, I hope you know.” you say ruffling her hair. “Don’t worry too much about him. I’ll help him understand. No matter how long it takes.”

You mess with her hair once more, giggling as you do so.

“Get some rest bug, we’ll get out of here tomorrow if you want.” you smile.

“Hey Y/n?” she calls, stopping you as you walk towards her door.

“Hm?” you turn to her, hand resting on the door knob.

“Uh..Thank you.” she says.

“You’re welcome.” you nod, closing the door as you leave. Heading back to your room, noticing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed in thought.

Coming closer you situated yourself between his legs. Hands coming to run through his hair making him look up at you, a pouty look on his face as he sulked. His own hands coming to your waist.

“We’re a team.” you whispered. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you both.”

You lean in and kiss him, pulling away you caress his cheek with your thumb.

“Thank you.” he whispers, going in for another kiss.

Author Note: I literally could not help myself with the idea of Joel having a partner that helps with understanding what it means to have a gay child but also to help guide him through the changes and challenges that lay ahead of it all. i might make a few small blurbs or head canons of this ! I hope you all enjoyed though !!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #imagines #imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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orangepeelknives · 1 day ago

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same anon again and yes yes yes yessssss !!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ those two are just two give a fuck-ers who show them giving a fuck in different ways sjdhksksks

and i can get behind what you said !! about mack being so expressive about the disappointment that will maybe tones down on his one. but not in e necessarily bad way but more like mack is showing exactly what im feeling so i will be mature and regulated about this one but us two will have to train extra hard next game and we WILL be having a debrief of this game and what we could have done better and we WILL be watching the game tape obsessively and mack is just looking at him with stars in his eyes on the drive back home when will is telling him all of this bc oh my god...finally someone who gets it....finally someone on the same wavelength as me....finally someone who understands me and knows me.....im going to be SICK.

yes anon PRECISELY!!!!!!!!

PREcisely!!!!! like okay well there is no need to snap your stick right now but that's okay let me gently take it from your hands and nudge you gently with my shoulder and smile at you so you know im not upset with you and lets go back to the hotel room and order takeout and watch an episode of too hot to handle and go to bed but TOMORROW we WILL spend the entirety of the plane ride back to san jose doing an in depth analysis of the game tape, and also we will go to the rink two hours before everybody else and i'll let you pick the playlist and we can spend the whole time working on that specific play that didnt produce. and also i will play fight you and flip you pucks and make stupid faces to make you laugh and smile with all your teeth until you remember why you love hockey so much in the first place, until it's joyous and fun again, and then afterwards when the rest of the team shows up to skate you can apologize to mario for being a dick.

and mack is sitting on the bench with will standing over him between his legs so hard he is about to pass out like uh huh uh huh uh huh honeymoon in cabo or mykonos

#willmack

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jamesdeanbby · 1 day ago

Note

PLS I loved that dally x cade!reader fic from you sm, such a fun read

as a johnny girl though i think it would be cute to also see a winston!reader x johnny fic.

the way both dally and reader would have a soft spot for johnny for different reasons 😭

also, i love the way you write johnny! feels so canon-compliant while still adding more details to his character. that’s pure talent fr💓

────۶ৎ rushed introductions

or, in other words, Johnny meeting the oldest Winston.

warnings : none!

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: someone take Dallas' older sister reader who pays the bills, the rent, always bails him out of jail, and acts like a mother to him away from me cuz im going bonkers.

The hallway smells like rain off asphalt and cheap cigarettes. Johnny’s boots squeak against the linoleum, and his hoodie’s damp at the shoulders from the drizzle outside. He’s got that quiet look on his face, all soft eyes and nervous glances, like he’s waiting for the sky to fall in on him.

Dally’s jangling his keys, grumbling under his breath.

“Ya sure it’s okay I crash for dinner?” Johnny asks.

Dallas shrugs, lighting up a cig. “Ain’t my house. Ask her.”

Johnny frowns. “Ask who?”

But Dally just kicks the door open and steps in.

And then there’s you.

The kitchen light spills like honey over you, and Johnny swears his breath gets stuck halfway up his throat. You're in sweatpants and a little tank top with paint on the straps, humming soft under your breath as you stir a pot on the stove.

You turn when you hear the door and light up like it’s instinct, warm and real and nothing like the smirk your brother wears like armor.

“Dallas Winston,” you say, your voice sharp but honeyed, “what did I tell you about dragging mud in here with your boots?”

Johnny’s eyes dart between you and Dallas like he’s seeing double. “whit did i till yi ibit drigging mid in hiri with yir bits” your little brother mimicks you, rolling his eyes back so much Johnny only sees white for a second. “Christ, woman, I live here.” Dally groans, tugging his boots off half-heartedly.

“Correction,” you shoot back, “I pay the rent here. You just crash.”

Johnny’s still staring, wide-eyed. This girl looks like Dally, sure—but where Dally’s all sharp corners and cigarette burns, you’re soft lashes and glossy lips. You look like the version of Dally that might offer you a glass of lemonade instead of breaking a bottle over your head.

“And, also, you're late.” Your tone drifts of into a questioning one. “Did you get into another fight?”

“Relax, Ma. We were just hangin’ ‘round the DX.”

“Don’t ‘relax, Ma’ me,” you snap, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “And you didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, either—again.”

Johnny tries to speak but his voice goes on strike. His mouth is open but all that comes out is a faint, “Huh?”

“Oh,” Dallas mutters, as if he forgot he wasn’t alone. “Right. That’s Johnnycake. He’s my buddy. Johnny, this’s my sister.”

Your brows shoot up. “Now you introduce me? I’ve been payin’ your bail for years and this is the first time you bring one of your friends home?”

“Wasn’t relevant,” Dallas mutters, flicking ash into a soda can.

“Not relevant?” you repeat, turning off the stove. “You bring this poor kid over and don’t even think to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I live with my sister’? You know, the one who pays for your bailouts and cooks your food and kept you from getting locked up last month?”

But Johnny barely hears you. His ears are buzzing, and his face is flushed. Because you've got that same sharp jaw and crooked grin as Dally, but everything else about you is just… soft. Sweet. Kind. Your voice is warm and your hands move like you heal instead of wound.

Johnny’s eyes flick between the two of you. “Wait… you bailed him out?”

You sigh, sliding the pan off the burner. “Don’t I always?”

Dally grins like a brat. “She’s got a bleeding heart, what can I say?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s affection there—deep, tangled, and unwilling to be spoken aloud. You wipe your hands on a towel and walk over to Johnny, offering your hand with a gentle smile.

“I’m Dally’s older sister. Sorry you’ve had to deal with him all day.”

Johnny takes your hand like it’s made of glass. His voice is nearly a whisper. “It’s… it’s fine. He’s cool.”

Dally snorts. “Don’t lie to her, Johnnycake. She raised me. She knows I’m the devil.”

You smirk, nudging Dally’s ribs. “You’re not the devil. Just stupid.”

Dally barks a laugh and heads for the fridge, muttering about beer and bad manners. Meanwhile, Johnny’s just standing there like his brain’s buffering. You smile again and tilt your head.

“So.. you’re Johnny, huh?” you smile. “You want somethin’ to drink?”

He’s staring. Straight up staring.

“I—uh—I mean—yeah. Ma’am. I mean, uh—water? Please?”

Dally snorts. “Jesus, kid, you alright?”

You laugh, this light, sparkling laugh that makes Johnny want to memorize it forever. “No need for ‘ma’am.’ I ain’t a hundred. You hungry?”

Johnny nods, stiff like a soldier. “Starvin’, actually.”

“Well sit down, then,” you say, gesturing towards the wooden table. “And don’t let my little brother talk too much. He’s full of it.”

Johnny glances at Dallas, then back at you, wonderstruck. You guide him to the kitchen table like it’s second nature, setting down mismatched plates. Dallas hops up on the counter like he owns the place (he doesn’t—you pay the rent), stealing a meatball with his fingers.

“DALLAS. Hands off. You’re not five.”

He grins around the meatball. “You’re worse than Ma ever was.”

You groan, he grins wider, and Johnny is sitting at the kitchen table like he’s in a church pew. You set the plate down in front of him—spaghetti with real sauce, not from a can—and he looks like he might cry.

You ruffle his hair and smile down at him. “You’re too skinny, baby.”

Johnny’s face explodes in red.

Dally makes a gagging noise. “Oh my god, you’re gonna give him a stroke.” You toss a dishtowel at him without looking. “Shut up and help me set the rest of the table, you freeloader.”

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x fem reader #the outsiders x winston! reader #the outsiders x dallas' sister! reader #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x fem reader #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade x fem reader #johnny cade x winston! reader #johnny cade x dallas' winston! reader

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xi4oyan · 1 day ago

Note

Hello here I am once again~! I hope you are ok and is feeling well

Jttw X chaotic neutral! Reader. Reader has the same personality as Monkey, although with some more self-control, but they are a mortal, and may have a little hyperfixation on animals as a whole but more specifically on monkeys, are they're going to say it to Sun Wukong? Nope! No need to inflate his ego... Reader may SOMEHOW already know Zhu Bajie... Also if possible, may Reader get so f*cking well along with Monkey that Tripitaka and the gang see double

Chaos Became Routine.

🌸

The moment she steps onto the dusty road beside the monk Tripitaka, it’s as if the world gives a mischievous little grin.

She spins on her heel, greets Wukong with an exaggerated wave and a teasing glint in her eyes. He raises an eyebrow. “And you are…?”

“Someone you’d adore, but never be quite sure why.”

He blinks. Then laughs. Loudly. The kind that echoes through mountains.

༄

Zhu Bajie’s eyes go wide. “YOU?!”

“Yes, me. Hi, darling. Still owe me a beer from that festival in Suzhou, remember?”

“How do you even *know* Bajie...?” Sha Wujing frowns.

“Long story. Short enough to make you uncomfortable.”

Tripitaka sighs. He can already feel the headache forming.

༄

The trouble starts when she and Wukong begin walking side by side. And laughing the same way. And finishing each other’s sentences. And making up games along the way (“How many wild boars can I mimic before Bajie notices?”). And climbing trees just because. And yelling “LOOK, A GIBBON!” every time she spots a monkey — only to correct herself: “Oh wait, it’s just you again, Wukong.”

“Careful with all that enthusiasm, flower. You might fall for me.”

“Impossible. I’m past that phase. I only collect *interesting* primates now.”

“Aha... So you admit I’m interesting.”

“I said primates. Didn’t say you were *one* of them.”

Wukong stares. She smiles.

Tripitaka sighs again. “It’s like watching two teenage demons seeing who can cause the most chaos without breaking pilgrimage vows.”

Sha Wujing, resigned, just carries the luggage in silence.

༄

At night, when the group is camped and Wukong is hanging upside down from a tree, she sits by the fire, a ferret asleep on her lap and a crow perched on her shoulder.

“You really have a thing with animals, huh?” he says.

She looks at him, not smiling this time. “They’re free. They’re honest. They are what they are. Ever seen a monkey pretend not to care about freedom?”

He stops. For a moment, maybe for the first time, he looks at her not as if trying to understand — but as if he recognizes something.

She then adds, back to her usual light tone:

“But don’t think this is about you.”

“Of course not. Why would it be?”

“Exactly.”

And both laugh.

Tripitaka decides to sleep early that night. If he’s to survive more weeks with the two of them, he’ll need divine patience.

༄

The next morning, the sky still dreaming in lilac tones, she slipped between the trees, one leg hanging from a branch, upside down just like the monkey she refused to idolize.

Wukong appeared out of nowhere — as usual — spinning his staff over his shoulder and holding an apple in his hand.

"Are you gonna copy me this whole trip?"

She bit into a plum no one saw her pick up. "‘Copy’ is a strong word. I prefer ‘refine.’"

"Hmm. You know everyone thinks we’re cut from the same cloth, right?"

"Of course they do. And they’re wrong."

"Oh yeah? Gonna say we’re not alike?"

"You’re an immortal spirit sculpted from celestial stone. I’m a mortal made of flesh, chaos, and coffee. But sure — maybe there’s something between us."

He paused. Looked.

She bit into another plum. “...Scabies.”

Wukong laughed so loud he scared off the birds.

༄

Chaos became routine.

They raced between villages. Argued over who could get more free food from merchants. Played guessing games mid-ambush (“Three demons, two spears, one cauldron. Bet the cauldron’s cursed.” “Wrong. It’s the guy’s mustache on the left. Trust me.”).

And when they fought side by side — Tripitaka prayed, Bajie screamed, Wujing tried to keep his cool — the two were a spectacle of instinctive sync. Like they’d trained together for lifetimes.

She’d leap onto an enemy’s back and yell “Catch this,” and he’d fling his staff with pinpoint precision. When she slipped on a rooftop, he’d grab her by the collar and say, “Easy there, little monkey.”

She huffed. “Little monkey is my grandma.”

“So what are you?”

“An enchanting anomaly.”

“At least you admit it.”

“I admit I’m enchanting. The rest is your delusion of grandeur.”

༄

One rainy night, they shared shelter beneath the ruins of a temple. Thunder growled outside, but inside only breath and the whisper of her cloak drying by the fire could be heard.

“You ever think about leaving the monk?” she asked, turning slowly.

“Every day. But then I remember, if I leave, you’ll cause twice the trouble and no one will survive it.”

She laughed, but didn’t reply. Just stared at the flames dancing like wild things.

He rested his head on his arm and watched her. “You really like all animals, huh?”

“All of them. Even the ones that bite.”

“And… monkeys?”

She looked at him. He wore that smug little smile — the kind that begged to be ignored.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If they know how to listen when someone says ‘don’t inflate your ego’.”

“You think I’m handsome.”

She blinked. Smiled slowly.

“I’ve seen lemurs with more modesty.”

“But none as impressive as me.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“And you like it.”

She threw a ball of bread at him.

He let it hit.

༄

The next day, Tripitaka saw them laughing together, whispering in each other’s ears like two kids about to light dynamite.

“We’re seeing double,” Bajie muttered, slack-jawed.

“Same energy,” Wujing grumbled. “Same look in the eyes. Same ‘I’ll cause trouble and smile while the world burns.’”

Tripitaka clasped his hands for a long prayer. A very long one.

Maybe asking for patience. Or the miracle of separating them.

Spoiler: neither was coming.

༄

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