#and yes it’s out of spite cause someone told me not to

[wormieapple]

watch me get a supernatural tattoo out of spite

#literally no one can stop me and they have in fact tried #i do infact find most spn tattoo inspos kind of ugly i am so sorry i wish i had better taste #but i also like spn so yk questionable #but i’m getting a falling angel tattoo so that makes up for it ig #and yes it’s out of spite cause someone told me not to #which just means obviously i’m gunna do it now #spn #supernatural

[throwaway-yandere]

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first. 

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence. 

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi: 

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide. 

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend. 

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard. 

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle. 

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life. 

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!” 

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny. 

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared. 

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever. 

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death. 

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word. 

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper. 

Nothing but an empty table. 

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear. 

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.” 

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside. 

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back. 

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened. 

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable. 

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened. 

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does. 

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.” 

You hated it. 

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter. 

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry. 

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself. 

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling. 

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now. 

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr 

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

[heavenlyvision]

ahh yay !! okay sooo… vamp!Tomas x fem!reader where tomas and the reader both like each other but never really said anything because they are both shyyy but after tomas gets turned by nitara tomas becomes a lot more cockier and confident causing him to cockily confess his feelings !! (smut? 🤍)

ty lovely and ofc have a good day/night <3

I love this request! I have written far more for it than I initially thought I was going to, I got carried away and couldn’t stop writing. I hope you like it anon! Thank you for gracing my inbox <333 sorry it took me so long to fulfil this request. I wish you a lovely day/night and I hope this lives up to your expectations :)

Dearest

Wc: 6k

Pairing: Vamp!Tomas x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angsty for like a minute, thigh grinding, cunnilingus (over the panties 🤭), p in v sex, creampie, spanking (1), I think that is all :)

Harbouring an unrequited crush for a man that you would describe as one of your closest friends is one of the most difficult things you’ve had to do in your adult life, and you have not had an easy life. So, it feels a little bit ridiculous how trying this has been for you.

Tomas is someone you hold in high regard, his skills, his generosity, his kindness in spite of his losses, you could ramble on about him and all the reasons you like him forever. Unlucky for his brother Kuai Liang, that means you torture him with your seemingly endless growing affections.

“He brought me back my favourite–”

“–Yes, I know, I was there with him.” Kuai Liang sighs, this is the third time you’ve brought up Tomas in the last ten minutes.

Tomas had brought you back your favourite baked goods on his last trip into town, it made your chest feel full with how kind the action was. He remembered your favourite treat, and he went out of his way to get it. He thinks about you, even when you aren’t with him.

“I’m sorry Kuai, I’m just really happy.” You feel embarrassed about how much you’re gushing, but you can’t help it. There is no one else you can talk to about this, and you need to talk about it with someone.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he smiles apologetically at you, “but you know, you should just tell him how much you like him.”

“I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t like me back? And then I’ve ruined our friendship over my silly feelings.” There’s too much for you to lose if you confess to him.

Kuai Liang refrains from a deep eye roll, he’s about to say something but Tomas walks up to you both.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” He’s just finished some training with Hanzo, he looks tired.

Kuai sits and says nothing, waiting for you to answer him, “We’re just hanging out, drinking tea.” You motion the teacup up at him to see.

He nods his head, smiling at you, “Got enough for me?”

Kuai pours him a cup before getting up, “I’ve got to go meet with Harumi, thanks for the tea.” He nods his head down at you and pats Tomas on the shoulder as he walks away.

“Thank you,” you tell him in reference to the gift he brought back.

He moves to sit down next to you on the bench, “No thanks necessary, I knew it was your favourite, and I was in the area.”

He lied just now, Kuai had told you that they would’ve been home an hour earlier, but he went out of his way to find your favourite bakery.

You take a sip of your tea, smiling into the cup and humming your reply to him.

You ask, “How did training go?”

“Well, Hanzo is improving fast, I am sure it won’t take him long to beat me in a fight,” he chuckles, his pride in Hanzo displayed in it.  

“I am sure he could, though I am sure I could beat you in a fight too.” You’re teasing, you are capable but not on par with Tomas.

He smiles at you, “You probably would win but I think that’s because you would play dirty.”

“Absolutely,” he knows you too well, any way to win.

You both sit and drink tea while talking, until you run out of tea, and then you’re both just talking. It gets late quickly but you both never seem to run out of things to say, and even when you do, you’ll say anything just to be able to talk to him for a little bit longer.  

“I should probably head to bed now, it’s getting late,” you tell Tomas, hours have passed since he sat down.

He looks into your eyes, like he has something pressing to tell you but eventually settles on saying, “Okay, thank you for tea.”

“Thank you for my treats,” you lean into his side, and he holds you there. Both engaged in a side hug.

“You are most welcome, dearest.”

The way he calls you dearest makes your heart rate spike; he makes you feel like you are genuinely dear to him, and it makes you giddy.

You move past it, “I will see you tomorrow?” you ask him, mouth muffled in his shirt.

He replies, “Yes but it might be late, Kuai and I both have to help Lui Kang with something.”

So vague with his missions, trying to shield you from the truth you suppose. You always end up asking Kuai about them anyways, and he tells you, so there isn’t really any point in keeping it from you. It’s sweet that he cares to try though.

“Be safe.” You tell him.

“Always.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

That was the last time you saw Tomas, he left for his mission and Kuai came back alone. It’s something that haunts you, you remember how distraught you were. You were told he was turned by Nitara, which means he’s out there somewhere, you just don’t know where. Don’t know what he’s doing. But your home feels empty and lifeless these days.

All you do is spend the days waiting for the next, an endless, mind-numbing cycle. Kuai and Harumi visit you often, checking in on you, making tea. They’re worried about you, you know that. But you’re worried about Tomas.

Lui Kang and Kuai Liang have been putting a copious amount of effort into finding Tomas, wanting to help him, but Tomas doesn’t want to be found. And he’s making it abundantly clear. Leaving a trail of half dead people, that have messages from him, telling them to stop looking.

This isn’t something you learnt from Kuai; you’ve heard the whispers in the village about it though. Kuai has now picked up Tomas’ old habit of not telling you the extent of things, but you can read between the lines. Tomas is moving closer to the Shirai Ryu’s village, for what reason you don’t know but you feel conflicted about it. You want to see him, but he is not Tomas anymore, not really. Not the man you…

…The bond between yourself and Tomas had always been unbreakable, at least you thought it had been. With the way things are now, you don’t know who will be standing in front of you, if you ever see him again.

Due to Tomas’ movements getting closer to the village people have been assigned to keep tabs on you. Kuai hasn’t said anything, but people roam outside your house now, frequently. All hours, they will stroll by, you think they aren’t meant to be noticed but when you live with ninja’s long enough, you start to notice them. You appreciate the consideration, but it’s not needed, even if he does show, you’ll handle it yourself.

There’s a knock on your door, three polite raps against the solid wood. Right on time, 3pm in the afternoon. Every day, you get visited by Kuai, sometimes with Harumi, sometimes with Hanzo, but more often than not, alone.

Sighing you move from your couch to the door and pull it open, “Afternoon, Kuai.”

You pull it open the whole way, allowing his large frame to move past you. He walks into the kitchen and starts boiling some water.

“Good afternoon,” he replies.

The afternoon with him carries out the same way it has for the past couple months, he talks to you, trying to get you to open up. You turn it on him and try to get him to talk, about how he’s feeling, about Tomas’ last sighting, his plans for if they find him. But just like yourself, he doesn’t disclose anything. So, you both end up drinking tea in silence, mention the weather and then part ways.

Some days he is more stubborn than others, he stays longer, pushing you harder, he’s feeling that way this afternoon.

“I know you must be upset and missing him; you can talk to me about him, it might help.” He presses you; he’d love to hear you talk about Tomas the way you used to.

It makes you sad to talk about him though, “I don’t have anything to say Kuai, you know that.”

“That is a little hard to believe,” there is humour in his voice, it pulls a small smile from you.

It is rather ironic, going from never being able to shut up about him, to never talking about him.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am fine,” you lie.

He knows and he looks at you, eyebrow raised, “You are not.”

“No… I’m not but neither are you.”

“I suppose not.” He sighs and takes a sip of his tea.

You think now is your time to mention, “Could you stop sending people to watch my house, it’s annoying and unnecessary.”

“I think it necessary,” he shoots back, but he caves a little, “I will send less and less frequently, but they will still watch out for you.”

You go to argue further, “I really don’t think it’s–”

“–I am not willing to compromise further on this matter.” He cuts you off.

“Fine.” You concede, too tired to argue with him. Always too tired.

He seems pleased with the progress he’s made with you though, finally getting you to budge the slightest bit. Admitting that you are not fine is enough for him today. He leaves with no argument, and you sit back on your couch, enjoying your solidarity.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

You’re in the shower when you hear someone rummaging around your living room, annoying, you think to yourself. It’s probably someone checking on you, though it’s odd they’re inside your house.

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you move through the ensuite and into your bedroom. Locating the sword you keep hung on the wall, if it’s not someone checking up on you, you may need protection. You pull it down, keeping it sheathed. Slowly you move towards the living area where the noise is coming from.

You sneak through the house as quietly as possible and come up behind the intruder, hands on the sword, ready to unsheathe it and strike if necessary. But then you realise the silhouette of the intruder is very familiar.

He turns around and faces you, a faux shocked look on his face, pretending to be frightened by you holding a sword.

Your voice comes out far more timid than you would’ve liked, “Tomas?”

“Ah, you caught me.” He holds his arms up in surrender, sly grin plastered on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to visit you, dearest.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, as if he’s questioning you questioning his presence.

Your eyes squint at him, “Don’t call me that.”

“You never use to mind it,” his face twists into a fake sad expression.

You’re still in an attack stance, “That was then, I don’t know who you are now.”

“Please put the sword down, it really isn’t frightening, especially since you’re in nothing but a towel.” His eyes look you up and down, appreciating your scantily clad body in a fluffy towel.

Your lip pulls up into a grimace, “Don’t look at me, turn around.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively, “Chill out, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Why are you here?” You’re quick to reply.

His presence is genuinely confusing, he didn’t want to be found by his own brother, but he came back here to break into your house and look at your living room furnishings?

“Like I said, I’m here to see you, I’ve missed you dearly… dearest.” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

He’s different, not right, not… himself. It’s uncanny and off putting to you. He is not the same kind man you called your best friend.

“I don’t believe you.”

His smile drops, “I know, but I’m not lying.”

He moves towards you, but you take a step back, hand pulling on the handle of the sword, ready to unsheathe it. He stops at your reaction; and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I really am not going to hurt you, I wanted to give you that,” his head motions towards your side table, your favourite baked goods sitting atop it.

Your eyes round in shock, why would he go to the effort? You stop your thoughts before they get too hopeful, he could be trying to lure you into a false sense of security, and it might work. He looks mostly the same, not quite right but his likeness is there. He’s pale, bloody, an odd marking on his forehead, and fangs you can spot when he speaks, but the same.

It’s confusing you; you want to be happy to see him, but you don’t want to let yourself feel it if he isn’t quite right. If he’s going to hurt you or worse. You are happy he’s alive though, there might be a way to help him.

“Why did you bring me that?” You ask, also motioning towards the treats on the table.

“Because they’re you’re favourite,” he shrugs, “can you please put the sword down, this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

You have a baffled look on you face, “You’re the one breaking and entering??”

“Hey! I didn’t break anything.” He looks offended, hand on his chest. He sighs and rolls his eyes again, “I don’t know what to offer you here to make you feel better, dear.”

“I don’t really know either.” You consider what would make you feel better about him, other than him leaving. “Getting dressed… would make me feel better.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” He’s flirting with you, brazenly.

“Stay here… or leave… but don’t follow me.”

He has a bored look on his face, but he shrugs in agreeance.

At his reaction you begin backing away slowly, watching him as you leave the room. He tilts his head curiously at you as you do.  When you can no longer see him, you shuffle quickly to your room.

You rustle through drawers to find clothes, settling on pants and a t-shirt. Something you can move around in if you end up having to defend yourself. You pick up your sword and exit your bedroom.

As you come back into the living area you see him sitting on an armchair in the corner, the one facing your larger couch. You move around the furniture to sit on said couch facing him. Your posture a stark contrast to his, you’re sitting up straight and alert. While he is lounging, legs spread wide, spine reclined against the back of the armchair. He’s fully relaxed and you’re… not.

“Still have the sword I see,” he notes.

Your grip tightens on the hilt, “I am not ready to trust you.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you would be.” His head rolls to the side quickly, listening, “are you expecting guests?”

You know what he’s hearing, your friendly watchers must be coming by to check on you.

“Kuai Liang started assigning people to come by my house, I didn’t understand why previously, I do now.” You reply casually with a wave of your hand.

“Mmm, he is taking care of you?” His question seems loaded, like he might be simultaneously pleased and displeased at the same time, no matter your response.

“Yes, he comes by regularly to check on me, he is worried.” You answer honestly, based on his hearing he’d probably be able to tell if you lied to him.

His eyes squint slightly, his reaction telling you nothing about his thoughts or feelings, “You going to alert them of my presence?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He seems a little confused, “Why not?”

“I’m not getting any information from Kuai anymore, he tells me nothing. If I let them take you, I doubt I’ll be updated of anything.”

“Very serious like this, you used to be much kinder to me.”

Your eyebrows raise at him, “I could say the same to you.”

“Fair enough,” he smiles at you, still eyeing you even though you are nowhere near as undressed as earlier.

“Stop it,” you tell him.

His gaze climbs up your body and then back onto your eyes, “Stop what?”

“Stop that,” your hand waves in circles around his face, referencing the way he’s been looking at you.

His head leans to the side, “Why?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “Because I don’t know what it means.”

“I like you, is what it means.” His smile is as sweet as he can muster, it’d be sweeter if he didn’t have fangs.

Huh? Huh? What the hell? He likes you, is that possible? You must have the most bewildered expression on your face because he begins chuckling at you.

“Don’t laugh!” You’re frowning at him now.

“Sorry, sorry…” He waves his hand at you, “I didn’t think you’d look so confused, you’ve just made a very cute face.”

You sigh deeply, he’s making your heart rate pick up, you need to control it, “I don’t believe you.” You say in reference to his declaration.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but it’s the truth. I came back to see you because I miss you and I miss you because I like you. I always have.” His confession is making you feel flushed. He’s saying things you would’ve liked to have heard ages ago.

“Why? Why tell me this now?”

“Was too scared to tell you before, now it doesn’t matter as much, our friendship isn’t exactly in a great place, no?” He gestures to his whole being with his hands, as if to demonstrate the reason for that.

“I don’t see myself trusting you, I hope you know that.” Honestly, mutual trust isn’t something you can foresee in both your futures.

But that’s obviously the opposite for Tomas, “I am pretty confident that I can change your mind, I got your heart rate to rise earlier. My confession bring up some hidden feelings?”

You’re interested, “How do you plan on changing my mind?” You ignore the second part of his sentence.

“I will come by as often as I have to, for as long as I have to, until you trust me again.” He seems earnest at least, but you don’t know if you have rose tinted glasses on when it comes to him.

“Do as you please, I have a feeling you’re going to anyways.” You huff at him, spine becoming less rigid.

He smiles at you, eyes bright, “I appreciate the permission, anyhow.”

His visit ends quickly after that last conversation, having made headway with you made him pleased enough to leave. He did promise he would be back the next night, and the night after that, and so on, and so forth. The promise thrills you, much to your contention.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Tomas stayed true to his promise, he comes by, every night without fail and has been doing so for the last few months. He never stopped flirting with you the whole time, making his affection for you perfectly clear. There are only so many ways you can brush him off and change topics though.

He sniffs the air, “I hate how much Kuai comes around, always smells like him in here, ruins your scent.”

Your eyes roll at him, “Well, he’s about as stubborn as you are about visiting. Must run in the family.”

You stopped holding your sword every time he came round about a month into his visits, believing he probably wasn’t going to bodily harm you. It was never far from you though, now it stays in the lounge, not close but not far. He has succeeded in slowly building some trust between the two of you.

In the kitchen you’re waiting for the kettle to boil, Tomas comes up behind you. Leaning down he inhales your scent, not so close to touch but close enough to have your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Smelling you.”

“Yeah, I can see that, why are you sniffing me?”

“You smell nice,” he’s still standing close to you, chest brushing your back.

You turn around and place a palm on his chest, aiming to push him back but he doesn’t budge. His hand comes up and he places it over top of your own. His eyes looking intently into yours, as you’re looking up at him, you’re struck with the realisation that your feelings for him haven’t left you. He’s changed and so have your feelings, but you still like him.

His eyes flit down to your lips, he begins moving in closer to you. Giving you ample time to pull away if you don’t want him to kiss you. You don’t know if kissing him is a good idea, but it doesn’t matter anyways, the kettle starts squealing, alerting you of its boiled status.

His hand lets go of yours, the moment ruined. You turn quickly, feeling like your face is on fire. Happy to be able to hide your face from him, though you know he can definitely hear your beating heart working overtime.

You take the kettle off the stove and make a cup of tea for both you and Tomas, he never drinks it, but he asks for it every time and holds it for the entirety of his visit.

Later, after tea, as you’re washing up Tomas stands beside you. Ever since your guard dropped enough to let him get this close to you, he stays as close as you’ll allow. Always right by you, flirting, joking, watching.

“Do you want me to wash up?” He offers.

“No, thank you.” You continue, scrubbing at your dishware.

When you’re done you go to wipe your hands off, drying them. Tomas grabs you and spins you abruptly, a shocked gasp pulling from you at his speed and strength.

“I like you.” Is all he says.

Your eyes are wide with shock, “You’ve already said so.”

“I just had to tell you again, so you know.”

“You tell me every day, and you relentlessly flirt with me,” you remind him.

“Just checking you haven’t forgotten.”

“You don’t make that possible,” you raise a brow at him.

“That’s the idea,” he smiles cheekily at you.

His eyes dip to your lips again, the moment from earlier being recreated. You turn your head to the side, feeling shy under his watchful gaze.

“Your heart is racing,” he comments, moving his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I know, it is my heart.” You feel flush in the face.

He leans a bit closer, “And how does your heart feel about me?”

Ah, he’s fishing today. He has been very patient, not asking you your feelings towards him but he is curious. Especially since he can tell you enjoy his advances, or at least react to them viscerally.

“I reserve the right to not answer that.” You feel as though you’re being interrogated.

He finds your answer entertaining, “I think… you like me too, but you’re still not convinced you can trust me.”

Yep, he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head, and he knows it. You go to answer him, try to cover for yourself but he’s quicker with his words.

Tone growing glib, he taunts, “Mmm, yeah, that was dead on, huh?”

His large hand come up and pulls your face back to his, holding you by your chin, between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your face up, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Look at me and tell me, that you don’t like me.”

“I don’t like you,” you reply simply.

He scoffs, “Liar, I’ve grown on you.”

“Like a tumour, maybe,” you retort back.

He has a small smile on his face, “Now who is being stubborn?”

“Somehow, still you.” Your expression is one of defiance.

He rolls his eyes at you and groans, before grabbing your head on either side and pulling you into a kiss. It’s full and profound, and as he moves his head to the side, he licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. A shocked mewl coming from you, one that he swallows down greedily.

Your heart feels like it might explode in your chest, and as he pulls away, he makes a note of it.

His forehead rests against yours, smiling cockily he asks, “Still don’t like me?”

“No,” you shake your head against him.

He captures your lips in another lustful kiss, devouring you whole, consuming the noises that escape you. Common sense eludes you, his kisses making you dizzy and unable to think properly. He walks you back into the corner of the kitchen bench, still cradling your face. Your hands coming up behind you, resting on the bench top. As a result, your chest presses further into him.

One of his knees slots between your legs, pinning you to the spot. His kisses take your breath away and you have to pull back to breathe. Huffing slightly at his insistent manner of kissing.

“Seems to me, that you like me.” He states.

“You’re mistaken.” You retort.

His head moves to your neck, inhaling the length of it, “it smells like you like me.”

Low blow on his behalf, his observation of your growing arousal for him makes your skin set alight. An embarrassing observation for him to make and he knows it. His thigh slots higher, resting up against your cunt. The contact makes you jump lightly, your teeth biting your lip to stifle your audible reaction.

His hands move to your hips as he leans down and kisses you again. His lips serving as a distraction so he can use the grip he has on your hips to encourage you to grind down on his thigh. You get lost in the feeling, the stimulation sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, the sounds you make spilling from you freely.

He rips his mouth away from you suddenly, before you can complain he pulls your pants down, you step out of them. Standing in front of him in nothing but your shirt and panties. He drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your thighs apart, just enough so his face can fit between your legs. His nose resting up against your pussy over your panties, he inhales deeply.

You gasp out at him, “Tomas!”

“Mmmsorry, you smell so fucken good.” He speaks against your cunt, muffling his words.

This display is mortifying to you and also serving to fuel your arousal. He hums pleasantly at your reaction. His mouth opens, sucking over your underwear, wetting them further. His thumbs pull your pussy lips apart, giving himself more access to your arousal. He’s lapping at your hole over your underwear, nose rubbing up against your clit as he licks at you.

You’re squirming above him, gasping for air at the pleasure he’s giving you. He grows more fervent against you, your cunt leaking from the pleasure. The smell and taste of you sending him into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop making out with your cunt over your underwear. Your legs are borderline shaking with your building orgasm.

“Tomas – ngh,” you’re trying to warn him of your impending orgasm.

One of your hands reaches for his hair, grabbing on, your hips beginning to faintly grind against his face. He doesn’t pull away to acknowledge your words, just continues slurping at your cunt, humming at you in confirmation.

The noises spilling from you reach a higher pitch, coming closer together. Your eyes are wet as they close tight against the intensity of your orgasm. When you cum it’s with a bite of his name followed by a large inhale of breath. Legs shaking, if he had not been gripping your thighs, you would’ve fallen to the floor in front of him.

He doesn’t stop as you cum, or even after, continuing to lick at you enthusiastically, aftershocks running through your veins. You twitch at the continued stimulation he provides. He growls against you, an inhuman sound that spikes your heart rate, and your excitement.

The sight of him between your legs, gripping your thighs open and feasting on your wet cunt could have you passing out. He huffs frustrated against you, and he rips your underwear off, actually tearing them off your body. You can’t even complain because he’s put his mouth back on your bare cunt. Drinking up all of the slick and cum from your cunt, he’s licking you clean, you might actually faint.

Tugging at his hair harsher, you push him back, “mm sensitive, stop.” You gasp out at him, words slurred together slightly.

Thankfully, he pulls away but stays on his knees, watching you quiver in front of him. His mouth finished eating you, but his eyes haven’t. He inhales one last time before standing up in front of you.

Cocky smile plastered on his face, “Divine, let me continue?”

You shake your head at him, “No, I will actually faint.”

He preens at that, delighted by your answer, “Are you ready to admit you like me?”

“No,” stubborn for no reason at this point. It’s clear to the both of you, you definitely like him.

He chuckles dryly at you, and then he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half against the bench top. His hands run over your body, down your back and over your ass cheeks, he pulls them back to stare at your cunt, he whistles at the sight of it. And you struggle against him, humiliated by his actions.

“Will you let me fuck your tight pussy?”

You feel red and raw, his direct question mortifying you, mortifying you because, “yes.” You will let him.

He lets out an amused sound that turns into a growl at the sight of you bent over and waiting for him. Rustling can be heard from behind you as he pulls out his cock. He runs it through your folds, using your cunts prior orgasm to lube it. You rock back against him, rutting down on his dick. It sends shudders down your spine, the pleasure already plenty and he’s not inside you.

“Hold still,” he holds his hand on your back firmly, keeping you in place.

His other hand on his cock, running his tip through your folds before notching it at your hole. Slowly splitting you in two.

All he lets out is, “fffff–”

You clench at the stretch, clamping down on his cock.

“–UCK!” He lets out at your tightening pussy, “gotta relax, or I’ll never – nghf – make it inside.”

You’re mewling and barely the tip is inside you, his hand reaches down and around to rub at your clit, trying to get you to relax.

“Thasss it, dear, fucken perfect… jus. like. that,” he sighs as you relax a bit.

He’s able to have his whole tip enter you, and then he starts rocking back and forth slowly, trying to fuck you open on the tip of his dick. Your legs already shaking and he’s not even close to halfway inside you.

He begins fucking his cock into you more, incrementally, it has pleasure wracking your body. Taking his time, rocking in and then out, slightly more in and then out, rinse and repeat. Until he’s finally fully seated inside you. The full feeling overwhelming you, you grind back against him, wanting more of the feeling.

“Tomas–”

“Hold still, and if it’s – hah – too much, tap me, okay?” He asks.

You nod your head at him, but he slaps your ass and says, “Words, dearest.”

“I will tap you if it’s too much – jus please – mmmmove.” You’re wiggling back against him, trying to gain some friction.

Both his hands pull your ass cheeks apart again, gazing down at the way you’re wrapped around him. A deep growl coming from inside his chest at the sight. Pulling back almost all the way out, he slams back into you, jolting your body forward against the counter. You have a feeling you’re going to have all kinds of bruises tomorrow morning.

He’s fucking you in earnest, roughly, inhuman and pleased noises coming from him. A wet slapping filling your kitchen along with your mewls and whines. You brace yourself on the counter and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

His hand moves up your body and grabs at the back of your neck, he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. Your head resting back against his shoulder. He’s fucking up into you, the change in position sliding you further down his dick.

The hand that pulled you up goes to the front of your neck, applying no pressure but holding you steady. His free arm moves from your hip to the front of your body, holding you against him, hand groping at your tit. His fingers pinch and play with your nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him at the sensation.

“Tell me, do you like mmme – ngh – now?” He whispers it against your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps breaking out across your skin.

“Mmmmaybe – mmph – a little…” You confess.

He laughs and licks your ear, his thrusts never stopping or slowing. Your cunt starts to rhythmically pulse around his cock, you’re so close to cumming on just his cock, a sensation you’ve not felt before. Previously always cumming with the help of stimulation on your clit.

He taunts you, “Go on, cream all over – mmph – me, can feel you squeezing mmme.”

“Hah – Mm gonna–” You’re cumming, hard, on his dick. Your release creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

His hands move to push you back against the bench top again, he needs to see the way you came all over him. He spreads your cheeks again to watch himself fuck you, to see the way you creamed all over him. Mesmerised by your cunt and the way it takes him; he’s chasing his own high now.

He’s fucking you harshly, aiming to topple headfirst into his own pleasure. You clamp down on him, pulling his own orgasm from him suddenly. He cums with a shout of your name and a string of profanities. Filling your cunt to the brim with his release, he continues thrusting, stuffing all his cum back into your pussy. He groans at the sight, dick twitching inside you.

He pulls out of you slowly; he tugs his pants back on before spinning you around and placing you up on the bench. He wets some napkins from your kitchen with warm water and gently wipes your thighs clean.

His fingers push some of the cum leaking out of your cunt back inside, “Keep that there.” He tells you.

You hold your hand over your pussy, as he runs down the hall and comes back with a fresh pair of underwear. He slides them up your legs and uses them to help keep his cum inside you. Your legs are shaking from the come down, eyes wet and dazed. You’d let him do almost anything to you right now, with the way he’s given you the two best orgasms of your life, you think he might’ve earned it.

You watch him move around your kitchen, he finds your previous pair of underwear and stuffs them inside his pocket. He looks back at you and smiles deviously. Then he moves to get you a glass of water.

He presents it to you, “Drink.”

You accept it gratefully, feeling parched, you drink it all. It dribbles down your chin with how you gulp it down. He smiles at you and wipes your chin clean.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him.

He’s smug, “Need me to carry you to bed, dearest?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

He obliges and carries you to bed, tucking you in. He won’t stay and he shouldn’t stay, though you find yourself hoping he would.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he says, practically reading your mind. He crawls into bed beside you, on top of the covers.

“Thank you, Tomas.”

He smiles kindly at you, “No thanks necessary.”

You fall asleep quickly that night. Fully trusting him and even feeling safe with him beside you. When you wake the next morning, he is gone but he’s left a note.

It reads, “I’ll be back tonight, dearest.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: This is not my best writing, but I find myself a bit fond of it, maybe because it’s a different character, a bit of a change up is nice. I did write almost an extra 3k than what I initially planned lmao. I find the need to add more plot in my stories. Anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed, my requests are open if you want a story like this one or if you want to share any thoughts, feelings, anything really, I am open for asks!! <333

#ask vision #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader smut #tomas vrbada x reader smut #smoke x reader #smoke x reader smut #fanfic #tomas x you #mk1 smut #smut #mk1 2023

[khattikeri]

drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!

jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.

why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?

why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!

that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".

i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').

jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.

the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.

of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.

sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.

it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.

now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.

the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.

his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.

no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.

the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?

wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.

he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?

no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.

slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.

slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.

wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.

he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.

in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.

but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?

no. no. he isn't.

now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.

this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.

mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.

people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.

wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.

jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.

#keri chats #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #long post #mdzs spoilers #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #mdzs meta #the untamed #cql #i know it's funny or fanon to call them commies but it's so deeply fucking important to me that ppl understand they CANONICALLY are NOT #AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #this is messy and unedited and rather surface level but again if you read this post i love you lmao #wwx did the right thing in the xuanwu cave by helping mianmian and fighting back against wen chao BUT he was punished for it #through wang lingjiao's visit insisting he be whipped for it + the fall of lotus pier #like if wwx'll be punished either way ofc he'll do the righteous thing. but he is undeniably resigned to the fact that they won't change #wwx doesnt TRY to change THEM. he just does what he wants & believes is right himself #big difference & while jgy is often easy to clear up i still see so many people say that wwx is different and im like. YES but also GOD NO

[roboticchibitan]

"If you write sympathetically about a homophobic character you're homophobic"

I, an entire lesbian, acknowledge both in real life and in the fiction that I write that people are complicated and certain people, especially older people, cannot help the environment they were raised in, the parents they had, the dominant values of their culture at the time their values were instilled in them, etc.

From a Buddhist perspective, everyone has their own "causes and conditions," as my teacher would say, that makes them the way they are. We don't choose those things. And it's hard to overcome that early training that becomes your knee jerk reaction to things. You, a gay person, have your own biases and knee jerk reactions that could stand to be questioned. Yes, you.

My grandfather is homophobic. When I came out as a teenager he told my mom that he and my grandma would love me "in spite of" my sexuality. And that hurt! But at the same time, I'm grateful my family didn't disown me, because they are in a fundamentalist Christian cult and they very much could have decided it was their moral duty to cut me out of their lives.

My grandfather was born into a cult. He didn't choose that. Cults are designed to control people's minds. He can't help that he was born to be brainwashed. And despite everything, I would say that he's generally, though not always and not radically, a compassionate person.

He is a weird mixture of conservative and liberal views because he is a complicated man. Due to the cult conditioning, he believes a lot of conspiracy theories. But he also believes in Universal Basic Income and universal healthcare.

He's not all bad or all good, and I love and accept him the way he is, even the parts that hurt or frustrate me. And he doesn't preach to me or make me feel unloved or unaccepted because of my sexuality.

I even visited with my girlfriend a few years ago and we had pleasant conversation together. He even bonded with her over being in the military. He was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam war, meaning he had to be in the army because of the draft but he refused to carry a gun or kill anyone.

People complain about the show Glee but my grandfather watched that show, much to my surprise. And I think seeing a sympathetic gay character go through rejection and the painful fallout of that, as well as seeing the gay character have a loving parent who was trying, had an impact on him.

Acknowledging, either IRL or in fiction, that people are complicated and being homophobic doesn't necessarily mean someone is evil or irredeemable does not make someone homophobic. I know we're allergic to nuance on the internet but I'm going to keep accepting the fact that we can love and have complicated relationships with the homophobes in our lives.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

sabezra week: day 1: in-between

during the decade in between, sabine helps the rebellion defeat the empire, but after the new republic is started, she's a rebel without a cause, until ahsoka suspects some force sensitivity in her and takes it upon herself to train her. after the death of sabine's family, ahsoka worries her grief will lead her down a dark path and stops training her. a rebel without a war, a mandalorian without a clan, and no longer a jedi- a keeper of the peace she's now trapped in- sabine spends most of her time on lothal, wondering if there's any way she can find ezra and bring him back home.

during the decade in between, ezra finds the noti and joins their clan, initially communicating with them via the force, but eventually adapting to their language, and swapping stories with them to pass the time while he waits for sabine to bring him back home.

headcanons and taglist below the cut. do not repost moodboards!

Sabine's loth cat, Murley, is nicknamed Cyar Kaysh Mirsh Solus [two mando'a phrases meaning: "beloved" and "his brain cell is lonely"] because of how much he reminds her of Ezra.

Anytime Ezra has a stupid idea, he hears a sarcastic little voice in the back of his head calling him out for it, and usually calling him a D'ikut, or some other Mando'a insult. That's part of why, when Sabine's with him again and makes a sarcastic and self-confident remark, all he can think to say is "I've missed you."

Sabine paints the walls in the tower on Lothal a lot, usually things that she knows Ezra won't mind when he gets back, but occasionally one or two things that'll annoy him in a half-sincere attempt to spite him out of hiding.

Ezra attempts to learn to draw/paint so that he can impress Sabine when she finds him. A lot of his early attempts were horrible, but by the time she gets there, he's quite good for someone with his limited resources, and he has a not-too-bad mural of the ghost crew etched in the wall of his mobile home.

Though she wouldn't even admit it to herself, part of the reason Sabine wanted to become a Jedi was to find a connection to Ezra though the Force.

Part of the reason Ezra worked on his proficiency in combat without lightsabers was because he half-expected Sabine to have lost his lightsaber over the course of their separation.

Sabine's family noticed how downtrodden she was at losing Ezra and asked about him, but she told them she didn't have feelings for him. Tristan asks her about it later, and and she tells him the truth, but her secret dies with him a couple days later.

Ezra tells the Noti all kinds of stories about what happened before he got to Perida. Naturally, their favorite stories are the ones that he seems the most excited when he's telling, so they ask him a lot to tell him stories about his friend Sabine.

Jacen loves hearing stories about his ghost crew family. One time while Sabine's watching him, they sit at the table drawing while she tells a story about his Uncle Ezra. Jacen, without even looking up from his coloring page, asks Sabine if she loved him. She's a little startled and deflects the question, but in that moment, she almost said yes. She hadn't even told herself that until that moment.

The language the Noti speak is a little different from basic. It throws Ezra for a loop when one of them asks to hear about his "girl friend Sabine" until he realizes that the Noti word for a romantic partner is completely different, and they were merely referring to his friend, Sabine, who is a girl. He has to admit though, he likes the sound of that phrase.

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @sabezraweek (if you'd like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

#gonna try to do a different kind of media each day for sabezra week! wish me luck! #also if you saw me accidentally post this at 12:06 am and then delete the whole thing and then redraft and post it again... no you didn't. #sabezraweek2023 #sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #ezrabine #ahsoka series #star wars rebels #ahsoka spoilers #kazzy's moodboards #headcanon

[bluebellhairpin]

Thou So Long Hast Mourn'd

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

Summary: After Jason's passing, your grief and anger combined causes you to leave Gotham - swearing only to return when you have a perfect chance to kill the Joker for what he did to your son. (Part 2 to 'Hell Hath No Fury')

Warnings: Loss and Grief (Mentions of a funeral and repeated mentions of Jason dying. We miss Mumma's Boy Jay a lot :( ). Bad coping mechanisms all round. Clark Kent acts as a marital buffer. (Reader is fem coded; has she/her pronouns; is referred to as ‘wife’ multiple times. Has the hero name of 'Valentine'.)

Listening to: 'Skyfall' By Adele - "I know I'd never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress, - 

Jason’s funeral was attended by a very small number of people. Yourself, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred all front and center. 

For days, weeks, the media pestered asking question after question. “A tragic accident.” Commissioner Gordon would reply. It became you answer too, like a well-rehearsed prayer. 

A tragic accident. Tragic. Accidental tragedy. Accident. 

Except it was no such accident. Someone killed Jason. A man, who still walked free, murdered your son. 

Even now, a month after you buried the child, as you sat listening to rain pat against the window panes in Wayne Manor, you remembered what you’d told Bruce the night he brought Jason home for the last time. 

“I’m going to kill him.” you said. “I’m going to kill the Joker.” You told Bruce you’d do what you’d vowed to never do again. You promised yourself to avenge your son, to make sure no one else would ever lose a child to that monster ever again. 

Ever since that night you’d felt a wedge slide between you and Bruce. Dick, only sixteen and having lost the closest thing he had to a brother was feeling it - you could see it on his face, and they way he held his shoulders at dinner. How you were feeling, how little Bruce was doing about it - none of it was doing Dick any good. 

Aside from the anger, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You never thought you’d ever be a mother - you had no idea what to do to help anyone. So you left. 

Bruce was out on patrol - he dove into Batman head first, a bitter feeling in your stomach had you thinking he was compensating. Dick was out - gymnastic practice, which Alfred was in charge of tonight. You were left alone in a huge house, and you couldn’t stand to stay there any longer. 

A small bag was packed with basics - clothes, cash, a few weapons from the cave, and a single family photo taken while on vacation just that past summer (stolen from its frame and folded into a jacket pocket close to your heart). As you walked past the main living space, you stopped, and looked up towards the item hanging above the fireplace. 

The sword - Excalibur - a god-given gift to humankind to exact true justice, now resting as a collectors antique catching dust. You knew if you took it that you would be able to do what you needed to. During your time using it there was no greater pull than to execute Joker - yet something always stopped you. 

You knew it was Bruce. 

Even already, your own guilt over what you meant to do wouldn’t let you take it with you. 

Naturally, on that night, Alfred brought Dick was home first. It was already nine thirty, and while Dick would be up for a long while, he knew the boy wasn’t sleeping proper anymore. 

Alfred sent him up to his room anyway, reassuringly with a hand on his shoulder, telling him to go try and get some rest. 

But Alfred knew something wasn’t right in the Manor the moment he stepped inside. It was too quiet. Like it had been empty as long as they’d been away - even though he knew full well you should’ve been there to keep the house alive. 

Although not trained, the butler had a sixth sense for a lot of things - he was a natural at whatever he sent his mind to (in his youth it was acting, and hence so seeing through lies and reading rooms (for improvisation, obviously) went with it). He set out to find you. Looked in all the usual places, and the unusual ones, in the big rooms and the small ones. 

In the last week or so you’d taken to spending time sitting in the walk-in-fridge. He worried about you a lot. While Dick still had school and his friends, and Bruce threw himself into Batman, you only really had yourself. It wasn’t healthy. 

But no matter how much he looked, or where he looked, you were nowhere to be found - not in the house, nor in the grounds. You’d said nothing about going out when he left, he would’ve remembered. In a last ditch effort to find you, he looked in one last place. 

But you hadn’t been in the Batcave since Jason came home. 

It was there, as he walked down a set of stairs, that he noticed a piece of paper haphazardly taped to one of the center computer monitors. 

He grabbed it, and flipped it open, reading quietly to himself the words inside, scrawled in your handwriting. 

‘Bruce, Don’t look, you know I won’t let you find me. I’m going to do something you will hate me for - probably forever. I can’t keep living like this knowing Jason’s killer is out there killing more mother’s sons. Take care of Dickie. Don’t take Alfred for granted.’

The older man found himself sinking into the chair beside him.

He had a hunch this was coming - he wasn’t in the cave the night Bruce brought Jason home, instead at the time he was upstairs taking a call from an excited Dick who was recalling his day spent doing a treasure hunt around Blüdhaven for a school camp trip that lasted the whole week. Alfred had no idea how you first reacted - he didn’t know how Bruce reacted to your reaction. 

He knew it wasn’t good. Especially since in your note you didn’t even say goodbye to your husband. 

You’d been hiding in a place you knew Bruce wouldn’t ever look - he always hated visiting Metropolis, the city was too bright.  

You knew no one there would snitch on you - most didn’t even recognize you, and the one person who did, conveniently the man who was the closest thing Bruce had to a best friend, wouldn’t ever snitch on you. Not for this. 

‘I needed a break,’ you’d lied, ‘Couldn’t handle being in Gotham after…’ You never finished, and you knew Clark could see through a lie like glass - but the grief he could see. He could also see the anger simmering underneath. He never called you out for it though. 

You’d been there a while, waiting, watching Gotham from a distance Bruce wouldn’t see you from. You kept tabs mostly on Batman - although interviews with Bruce having to explain where his wife went were entertaining (in a sick, satisfying way). Sometimes you were sick, others you were out of town, most times you ‘weren’t feeling up to it’ - the latter two would be closest to the truth, not that he’d know that. 

You often looked fondly at whatever information came though about Dick - he took out the gymnastics first place for his age bracket in the Gotham state. The picture made your heart ache - his smile was wide and toothy, but even though your printed newspaper you could tell it wasn’t reaching his eyes. 

Who you were watching most, though, was the Joker. You combed through old reports and new ones. Even called up Harley Quinn a few times, just to get a perspective on him from someone who was - at one point - much closer to him. She asked you why you wanted to know. 

“I need to know.” 

“O-kay. And where exactly have you been Val?” she’d said, voice crackling down the hotel landline, “You ain’t locking yourself up in that Mansion are ya?” 

“No. I’m not in Gotham right now.” 

“So what’s even the Joker to ya if you ain’t even here huh?” 

“When I come back,” you said, “I’m going to kill him.” 

You became a Joker expert in almost one night.

You got a late night visitor less than a week after that phone call. Clad in red and blue, with a gaudy cape and that stupid ringlet you and Bruce would always bitch about on late nights under bed covers. 

You were a little happy to see Clark - you actually had nothing against him, it was all just in jest (or solidarity because Bruce was your husband). He was let in pretty quickly. Mostly to avoid questions from the nosey couple who’d been staying in the room next to yours for the past three days. 

He stood around awkwardly while you watched him from the seat next to the room’s microwave, posture screaming Clark Kent, journalist, even though he looked like Superman, world-know superhero. 

“I’m, uh -” he started after you stared at him hard, wordlessly willing him to speak, “- I’m worried. I think you should go back to Gotham soon. To Bruce, specifically.” 

“And why’s that?” He looked at you like you’d just said you had Kryptonite in your pocket. 

“Because you’re in trouble.” 

“I’m here in Metropolis, I’m with you right now, I couldn’t be in less trouble if I tried.” 

“You know I have super hearing.” he said sheepishly. It was like he was telling his Ma he ran over her peonies with a bicycle. You put two and two together quickly though. 

“You’ve been spying on me?” 

“For me!” He said, stepping back with his palms towards the sky, “I feel better about not telling Bruce if I know what’s going on with you.” 

“And so what part of your spying brought you here tonight?” Both your arms and legs crossed, you could tell from his face he didn't mean for you to get so offensive so quickly. 

“You were talking to Harley Quinn?” 

“Oh that,” you scoffed with a wave of your hand, “Even Bruce does that. She’s not so bad. Taught me how to roller-skate you know.” 

“About the Joker?” 

“That happens often when my husband is being a pain in my ass,” you said, “Reminds me he could be much, much worse.” Clark motioned his head - ‘fair’, but then he returned serious once more. This time it wasn’t a question. 

“You said you were going to kill him.” 

You knew he couldn’t read your mind, but he could hear how your heartbeat picked up. He had to know you knew you’d been caught. He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for your answer in the most approachable way he knew in that moment. 

“I’d be doing everyone a favor.” 

“Bruce - I don’t know what he’d do. He could hate you.” 

“I’m sure he hates me right now anyway.” 

“You can’t believe that,” Clark said, looking up at you with blue eyes that almost looked like Bruce’s. “You don’t really believe he hates you right now?” You took a great interest in the patterned carpet. Clark said your name, and you reluctantly looked back at him. 

“He misses you.” 

“I miss my son.” You bit back at him bitterly. His face remained hard. This was suddenly no longer Clark. You were talking to Superman now. 

“I’m not sure how to say this kindly,” Clark said with a firm voice, “But you’re so focused on the child you lost that you’re abandoning the one that’s still here. Bruce misses you, but Dick misses you even more. He doesn’t need to lose another Mom.” 

His stare was hard, stubborn - he wasn’t going to let up. Your stare was hard too - sour and angry, not because you didn't believe him, but because you knew how right he was. 

“I think you can leave now.”

Two weeks later, after a late night grocery run that consisted mostly of chicken noodle cups and instant coffee, you found a lump of black sitting in the dark with its back against the door of your room. 

Clark told Bruce. 

He didn’t seem to notice your approach, but once you stood toe-to-toe with his polished Oxford shoes, you kicked his leg. 

“Get up.” 

His head of messy hair lifted, and when his brain fully processed you - his wife, finally! - standing before him, he almost jumped to his feet. Uncharacteristic of him outside his prior - and now ditched - playboy persona. 

He breathed your name, stepping forward with hands outstretched as if to hug you. You took a step back. Clark, apparently hadn’t told him everything - if he had, he was taking it very, very well. 

“Where’s Dick?” 

“With Alfred,” he said, hands falling to his sides again after you hummed in acknowledgment. You both stood in silence for a while, before you gestured to a door with a full hand. He got the hint, stepping away, then taking the bags away from one hand as you fumbled for your keys. 

The quiet continued as you let yourselves in, you sat the shopping on the bench, and he made himself at home at the table near the door. You sat back down in the microwave chair, the furthest place from him you could be while still staying in the room. 

“Been keeping busy, Bruce?” you asked, he turned to fully face you in his seat. 

“Not really,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you. Never thought you’d be here,” You almost smiled, thinking about how right you were for coming here. Almost. 

“Heard you went to Saudi Arabia while I’ve been gone.” 

“It was nothing. Really.” 

“You couldn’t have been looking too hard if you were able to take a ‘nothing, really’ trip to the Arabian Mountains.” 

“I’m not here to fight with you,” Bruce said, resting a palm on his knee, “I’m here to ask you to come home. We all miss you.” his last words came out very quietly. “It’s been months. Nothings going to get easier if you stay away.” 

“Are you listening to yourself?” you said with a soft scoff, “He who literally spent every single night after Jason died away from home. He who spends every moment he can down in a dark damp cave rather than with his family - I don’t think you get to tell me where I should be.” You felt tears well in your eyes - hot and fat if they fell, but you willed yourself not to let them. Bruce’s shoulders softened, and he stood and walked closer slowly, coming to kneel before you with his fingers just touching yours. 

“We both haven’t been doing well, have we?” his head shook and his voice was barely audible. It was like he was speaking to himself. His admission - finally, his own pride and stubbornness aside, and it made yours disappear like dust in the wind. 

“You need to see my bathroom,” you said. His head cocked, a sly smile twitched onto his lips. 

“Oh?” he said, “And what might I find there?” But you weren’t smiling. You were trying to be honest.

“Just go look.” you said, turning away from him, bringing your hand away. Telling him with your actions that you weren’t going to be talking until he did. 

He stood, opening the bathroom door behind you and flicking on the light. You could feel how still he was. Taking in the room, and what was inside it. 

All across the mirror and walls were taped up newspaper clippings and photos and articles printed off from the library, old and new, a few of him - Batman - but most of the Joker. Beside the toilet was a case - one he knew would hold parts of a rifle (parts he'd seen you pull apart and put back together in a minute flat) - and across the sink were knives and gun magazines. 

Bruce stepped off the carpet and onto the tile. There was a little list in the center of the mirror, written in red and with the last line underlined.

‘Kill the Joker’. 

When he returned to you, he was holding the list in one hand. 

“When were you planning on doing this?” he asked. You weren’t able to meet his eyes when you answered. 

“Whenever I go back to Gotham.” His body went rigid beside you. Audibly, he let out a breath.

“I’ve thought about it too. Just getting rid of him like that.” he admitted, voice quiet and with a rough edge, “But I know it won’t help. It won’t bring him back.” 

“This isn’t about bringing him back. If I knew it could bring Jason back I’d have done it weeks ago.” You looked up at Bruce as you spoke, watching as his face crinkled in disbelief. 

“You’re so serious about this.” 

“How could you still think I’m not serious?” you said, standing to help convince yourself you weren’t as unsure as you felt. “I will do it. A time will come when that monster dies - wherever it is I will be standing by watching.” 

He watched you. Analyzing your face and the way your eyes moved. His face set like stone, hard and sure and you knew he was much more upset now having found out than what he was when you were missing. He took a step back. 

Bruce was moving towards the door. 

“I won’t stop you. I couldn’t bear to.” he turned, hand on the door handle, “But Batman still will.”

As far as you knew, you’d made it back into Gotham City undetected. 

You knew the route’s Bruce - no - Batman, took while out on patrol. You knew the surveillance he constantly would check. You knew because for years you’d helped him do it all. 

Thankfully, you had a not-so-little little helper - Joker assassination aside, Harley was more than happy to put you up for a while. After you’d killed Joker you’d planned to turn tail and leave again - maybe hide someplace in Australia where no one barely goes. It wasn’t like you had to put up with her long anyway. 

Harley was great, but you’d have to love her a whole lot to live with her longer than a week. But you weren’t planning to stay that long. 

You’d tracked Joker to an apartment complex near Arkham - you knew he wouldn’t stay there forever, so you needed to act fast. 

Your weapons of choice were clean and ready to go, your escape routes A through to D were memorized, a hood and bandana combo were acquired to hide your identity long enough for no one around to know it was you. By all means and definitions you were ready to go. 

You left Harley’s place wordlessly. You were sure she didn’t even know you left. 

A cloak and the shadows of night concealed you from most passersby. Slowly, slowly you stalked towards where you knew the Joker to be. When you climbed the fire escape to find your vantage point, you almost didn’t make it all the way there because you saw Him. 

Sitting, lounging. Acting like there was not a single thing in the world to worry about. It made you so angry you could scream, claw your eyes out, you could do so many things all because that man couldn’t care less about your son dying. 

In fact, you didn’t make it to your original vantage point. 

You settled right there, three levels lower than planned, and took the rifle off your shoulder. Clipping on the scope, twisting the silencer on, packing the magazine in. Settled your body into a comfortable position, then raised the gun to look at your target through the scope. 

With greasy green hair and yellow teeth, you watched him smile through the crosshairs. With a sneer you flicked the safety off. You were ready to take the shot.

A flash of red, green and yellow came in front of the Joker. You frowned, confused. Pulling the scope back you looked again with a wider range and saw something that made your heart drop. Someone was tied up and presented to him like a present. 

The Joker had Robin. 

Your Robin. Your son. Your Dick Grayson. 

Suddenly this was more than just a chance to avenge Jason. A switch flicked inside your heart. This wasn’t a chance to avenge Jason anymore; this was you, saving the son you had left. This was you not giving that monster the chance to keep you in black. 

The lethal rifle was ditched right there on the fire escape, not caring if a lowlife found it before you could return. The knives you’d stashed - ‘just in case’ - were now your swords. Their piercing blades becoming the only thing shielding those who stood in your way a feral beating from bare fists. 

No one was standing in your way of taking Dick home safely. 

Your veins pumped white hot, you saw red all over. This was not going to happen a second time. It wasn’t ever going to happen again. 

A goon at the door stood in your way, he was met with a knee to the crotch and a wound to his shoulder to keep him down. More on the stairs were thrown over bannisters. One had his head smashed into the doorway of the Joker’s apartment. Another was given a hard elbow to the back of his neck. 

You weren’t aiming to kill - you were aiming to get them out of your way, and keep them that way. 

When you reached the room which window you saw through, there were only four other people aside from yourself, your son, and that murdering bastard. They all stayed quiet, goons waiting on a call to action from their boss. You missed the way Dick’s eyes widened as he realised his Mom was here. You were busy staring down the Joker, trying to make him feel just how much pure hate you had for him without a single word. 

“Give me Robin,” you said, voice low, venomous. Dangerous. 

“Well if you want him so bad, and since you asked nicely,” His smile spread wide and uncanny. “Come and get him.” 

So you did. 

Like a blur of back and blue, you had all four men either out cold or groaning on the floor. The Joker himself was under your kneeling form with his teeth now stained red and an eyes swollen shut. 

“Listen well because I’ll only say it once.” You said, your hand a rough fist in his hair to make sure he looked into your eyes and saw exactly how much of a threat your promise was. 

“I spared your life today. I will never do it again. I am not the Batman. The next time I find you trying to pull something with one of my Robin’s and you see me coming you'd better run the other way because I will kill you.”

After untying Dick, retrieving your abandoned gear, and throwing Joker into Arkham, you reconvened with Dick on a nearby rooftop. 

You barely stood upright on two legs before he barreled into you, arms thrown around your waist with his face squished right into your collarbone. He’d grown taller in the time you’d been away. You felt tears fall as your arms wrapped around him in kind. 

“I’ve missed you Mom.” he mumbled into your shirt, “Please don’t go away again. Please.” 

A hand raised to the back of his head as you pressed your covered nose into his hair. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed, then opened them, peeling you both apart just enough to take in each other's faces. Even with his mask on you could see how much he was pleading with you to stay.

You brushed his hair away from his face - he needed a haircut soon. 

You wanted to stay, you never wanted to leave him ever again, not after tonight. But would Bruce let you? 

Out the corner of your eye you saw a black drop fall onto the rooftop a little ways off. Batman. He stood, tall and intimidating. In that moment you had half a mind to take a step back even though he made no move closer to you. 

Instead you just held Dick a little tighter. 

Bruce's hand reached out to you, palm open, outstretched, and empty. Waiting for you to take it. 

“I think we can go home now.” he said, “We all can.” Like that, Batman disappeared. Bruce was here. You guessed he bluffed - when it came to you Bruce was always there. 

Things were not going to go back to normal. They weren’t for a while. But the best thing you could do was stay together, all together. As a family. 

Nothing was going to push that away from you again. 

- And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

#the adventures of batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #jason todd x batmom #dick grayson x batmom

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc get´s put in the time out cage for being a horrible being

Lucifer:

he put you in the cage for the simple reason

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop BITING me!”

“now I´ll do it even more”

“and I hope you´ll enjoy the cage”

“next time I´ll stab you in the ankles”

“you just earned yourself an extra hour in the cage”

like a simple metal cage could stop you

he didn´t curse it, it has a simple lock and he didn´t take your lockpicks away

you will be out as soon as he leaves

which might take forever considering he is working right now

you´ll just entertain yourself by throwing things at him

Mammon:

Mammon came to save you

but not before making fun of you

“what did ya even do Mc?”

“in my defense it was really funny”

“ya bit Lucifer again didn´t ya?”

“in my defense it was really funny!”

“should be glad ya have me to rescue ya Mc!”

in addition no he did not save you

Lucifer caught him just as he said it and hung Mammon from the ceiling

but in the same room you were in so turns out after freeing yourself you also had to free Mammon

Leviathan:

Levi didn´t even notice you were locked in the cage

he just thought you were asleep and that´s why ignored his request to play video games with you

he also didn´t care that you got out

he just asked if you want to play now or want to binge some Anime

if you say no because escaping from a cage is exhausting you will get no sympathy from Levi

he´ll just get whiny, call you a Normie and throw you out of his room

I mean at least you can take a nap now

Satan:

he is one of the 2 reasons why 1. the cage even exists and 2. why you were the only one locked in it

while you where the one who got the idea to bite Lucifer in true Anti-Lucifer League fashion both Belphie and Satan encouraged you to go through with it

and of course they wouldn´t stop their running to rescue their favourite Human :(

he didn´t even try to visit you in the cage

but to be fair Lucifer was there nearly the entire time and Satan would have definitely started a fight with Lucifer and would have been locked away too

all three of you were in there once together

this thing was not built for a Human and two Demons

Asmodeus:

he actually visited you

to tell you that when you get out you have to go on a shopping spree with him and he brought you blankets to make your stay in the cage more comfortable

at least someone is being nice to you

he also talked a little bit with you

it was mostly him talking what you have to do with him when you are finally

he even told you that knowing you, you´ll probably out in an hour

nice for him to believe in you so much and underestimates how much Lucifer hates taking breaks

Beelzebub:

Beel scolds you

because in his words you shouldn´t be so hard on Lucifer all the time and stop causing troubles for him on purpose (to be fair at this point Trouble is pretty much your middle name... or second middle name)

and he brought you snacks and drinks because not everyone is Lucifer and can run on coffee and spite alone

he stayed a little with you and even tried to bargain with Lucifer to maybe let you out a little bit earlier because he´s sure you learned your lesson (a lie, as soon as you free he will get bitten again)

Belphegor:

reason Nr.2 why you´re in there

he didn´t even do anything he just visited to laugh at you (of course when Lucifer wasn´t there)

he even got closer to your cage to mock you

you bit him for that one

now you´re the one laughing

Belphie is just insulted and leaves (he can´t handle the fact that his actions have consequences)

also because he was being a little shit and making fun of you

you tattled to Lucifer and told him Belphie encouraged you and where he´s currently hiding

are you being petty? yes, do you care? not really he deserves it

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me mammon #mammon avatar of greed #obey me brothers #leviathan avatar of envy #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #satan avatar of wrath #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus avatar of lust #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #obey me beelzebub #belphegor avatar of sloth #obey me belphegor

[onwardevan]

Out of spite (Evan peters x y/n)

TW:smut,alcohol,vomit,grinding,p in v,aftercare,mention of y/n being cheated on,idk if there's anymore??

"Come on!you're not filming anymore,You don't have any other jobs,You just got cheated on,come to this party!!!" My bsf,Ellie,tried to convince me to go to a party happening like two blocks down.

"Im not in the mood right now.Go away!" I said,muffled because of the pillow I was crying in.

Ellie sighed and grabbed my ankles,pulling me out and bed and making me hit my hard wood floors.

"DAMN?!" I laughed.

"GET UP,AND GET READY!"

"I HAVE AN AMAZING IDEA!"

-----

We were at the party,standing on the sidewalk.

"So basically,I find some random man and convince him to kiss me so I can made Tristan jealous?" I said,making sure I had everything correct.

"Yes.NOW COME ON!!" Ellie dragged me into the party,almost making me trip up the steps.

Everything sounded muffled,too loud for me to hear correctly?The smell of weed,beer,and sweat filling my nose.As me and Ellie walked threw the crowd of people a obviously drunk woman collapsed on me.

"I n-need togopiss!" She said,slurring her words.

"Please don't do it now!" I said and helped her stand.

"You're very pretty!" She said when she saw me.

Some blonde haired guy came up and grabbed her,this one was sober.He saw me and started apologizing.

"Im so sorry!I told her to go lay down but I guess she came here instead?" He picked the girl up bridal style.

"She's very pretty,right Evan?" The girl said.

"Yes,she's very pretty,now let's get you to the couch." The man,who's name I'm guessing is Evan, took the girl somewhere.

I turn around to look for Ellie,scared cause I lost her. Oh my fucking god...how could she just leave me here?!What kind of friend is she? I completely forgot abt the plan for a sec before I saw Tristan walk in with that bitch he cheated on me with.

I looked around quickly,looking for someone to at least kiss,but not being able to find people who aren't drunk,cheating,or passed out.So had one option...I wanted to scream when I realized.It had to be that Evan guy...

He did say I was pretty?but what if that was to shut that one girl up?fuck it I had to...

On my way towards the drink table,if I'm gonna do this I don't wanna remember it.I get like two cups of random drinks at the table when I go to turn around,instantly bumping into Evan....

"Woah,you alright?" He said as he pointed at my two solo cups.

"Hm?yeah uhm..." I said.I looked behind him and at the drunk girl who's passed out,getting an idea.

"You sure" he said.

"Yeah I just gotta...I gotta-" I ran to the bathroom, my mouth filled with vomite.

"WOAH-" Evan said and helped.

Once we got to a feee bathroom I instantly threw up.Evan pulling my hair back into a ponytail.God why was he the one helping me and not Ellie?Where even is Ellie?!

"That's enough for you,come on." He said and helped me walk to the couch.

The other girls bsf came and took her away while me and Evan were gone.leaving us alone...on the couch...at a party.

"I'm gonna get you some water,stay here." He said.

"Nooooo,I don't wanna be alone?" I tried my best to put up a drink girl act,at least that will make this slightly less embarrassing??

"I will just be over there it's okay?" He said.

"Mmmmm fine." I mumbled and let go of his sweater.

He got up and went to the table.Pouring me a cup of water while he talks to someone at the table.What if I meet him in the future and he remembers this,I'm sure he's sober right now?

He walks back to the couch and hands me the water.

"Drink." He said.

I took a sip of the water then placed the cup on the floor,Evan watching my every move.How do I continue this??What if nothing happens and I just look stupid??

Wait....I have an idea.

Since Evan's staring at me,I decide to stare back.Memorizing every detail abt him.

His dark brown eyes,his shark jawline,his little beauty mark on the tip of his nose,the way he started looking at me when he realized I was staring at him... He looked confused?

"You're realllllly pretty,y'know that?" I mumbled with a smile.

"Thanks,you're pretty too?" He said.for a 2nd time.

He did the same thing I did to him,eyeing my features then netting my eyes.How can I get closer? I was thinking how I could get closer to him when Ellie FINALLY showed up.making me scoot closer to Evan till our arms were touching.(it's a rlly small couch 😭)

"HEYYYY?!Whos that?" She said.

"That's Evan"

"He's reallllly hot!" I whispered to her.

Ellie laughed,finally realizing that I was going through with our plan.

"Okay well uh,Daniel is probably looking for me so uhm...I'm gonna leave yall!" Ellie said then went to go look for this Daniel dude.

"You think I'm hot?" Evan said.

I turned around quickly,just now did I realize how close we were.

"Huh?" I said.

"I heard you.And I think you're pretty hot too.." he said.

All the noise around us stopped.everything stopped.

I look at Evan's eyes and see them shift slightly down as he licked his lips.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked.

"Not anymore..." I said,looking at his lips,I wasn't supposed to actually fall in love,but now I am?

"Good." Was all he said before smashing his lips onto mine.I kissed back,the kiss quickly turning desperate as I moved to sit on his lap.

"You're not really drunk are you?" He whispered mid kiss.

"No.." I sighed.

"Good." He said and connected our lips again.He swiped his tongue on my bottom lip asking for entry,that I allowed.With his tongue roaming my mouth and his hands on my waist,I start to rock my hips on his lap.

"Mmmm.." he moaned lightly into my mouth,his hands moving my hips with more force.

"Fuck.." he moved his head into the crook of my neck.continuing to help me grind on him.

"No- not here.." he abruptly said.

He picked me up and started walking somewhere.

The way he was holding me gave me access to his neck and I instantly attached my lips to it.making him almost fall.He took us to his car,setting me in the passenger seat and him in the driver.

He started driving away from the party,speeding to wherever we were going.

I took advantage of this time and placed my hand on his boner.making his breath stutter and his eyes twitch.he looked down for a second and then at me,then back at the road.

We hit a stop light so I started palming him through his pants.

"Mhmmm..." he said and closed his eyes.

He opened his mouth in a silent moan until I stopped,letting him know the light is green.

It was like that the entire way to wherever we were going.Every red light I would palm him and then stop at the green lights.

Once we reach the area I see that it's a house.He viscously picked me up and carried me inside,not Evan making it to the living room before I was pinned against the wall with his lips glued to mine.

He was breathing heavily on the way to the couch. Throwing me in the couch before he took his sweater off.climbing on top of me and grinding into the space between my legs.

"Uhh.." he moaned.He buried his face into the crook of my neck and started leaving light kisses on them. He shortly reached his hands down to pull my shorts down.rubbing the fabric over my heat,making me throw my head back against the arm of his couch.I bucked my hips into his hands.

"You sound so beautiful damn.." he whispered in a heavy breath.

I could only moan at his words.

I reached my hands down to unbutton his pants.they only made it to his ankles by the time his thumb was under the waistband of my panties.

My mind was foggy.Was this really happening?Does Ellie know?What time is it?What if that girl is his girlfriend?!Is this wrong..?

My thoughts were cut off when I felt his fingers enter me.Pushing so far up and curling.

"F-fuck oh shit!" I moaned.Mh hands soon found his hair when he pushed his fingers back in and started a rhythm.

He must've known I was close cause he suddenly stopped?!

"No!why did you stop?" I said.

He didn't say anything,he just kissed me roughly. His hands going down to his boxers and pulling them down.Stroking his length before pushing inside me.

We both moaned at the same time.He almost collapsed on top of me,being squeezed so perfectly it almost made him come right then and there.

"Mmmnmm.." he whined in my ear.

I started moving my hips motioning him to start moving.

He retracted his hips before slamming into me.

He kept his head in the crook of my neck,and thank god cause now I can hear his moans in my ear.

He retraced his hips again and started a thrusting rhythm.breathing heavily and grunting in my ear.

"You- fuck- you feel so damn good- oh my fucking god!" He moaned into my ear.

"Faster- please faster.." I breathed.

He didn't need to be told twice,instantly pushing into me inhumanly fast.

"OH FUCK!" He moaned and gripped my waist will his nail marks were left behind.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as my hands went to his hair.his soft hair..

"Fuck I'm so- I'm so c-close..." he moaned and brought his hand down to rub circles on my clit.

"FUCK THATS IT- MMMMMMN!" I moaned and gripped his hair tighter as my orgasm came.

He moaned roughly at how I tightened around him before I felt something warm start to fill me.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He moaned and started kissing my neck.

He pulled out,panting and helped me up,bringing me to the bathroom for a shower.

Afterwards,he sat me down on his bed and put something on the tv across from his bed.

"Im gonna order us some food,you alright with that?" He asked.

"Yeah.." I smiled.

I got my phone out of the jscket I was wearing earlier and looked through my messages.

"10 messages from 'Ellie Spaghetti' "

"GIRL WHAT HAPLENED??"

"I SAW HKM GAKE TIJ OUT OF HERE SIF HE DO ANYTBING TO TOU?"

"STAY SAFE...KN MULTIPLE WAYS..."

"TRISTÁN WAS TALKING TK ONE OF EVANS FRIENDS WHEN EVANS FRIEND STARTED LAUGHING GIRL I THINK HE SAW YOU 💀"

#evan peters #smut #party #ahs coven

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

#asked and answered

[penguinkyun]

chapter 146 review

i feel a little insane about this chapter. alright not just a bit a lot oh my god we are so back everyone 

before we begin, due to the nature of this chapter including himekawa airi, csa and child abuse along with a murder suicide are going to be mentioned so if you do not feel upto engaging please click off and take care of yourself

lets start with the filming scenes then. so we start with airi trying to reassert control and get into hikaru's head by telling him taiki was his son (horrifying) and how he would return to her because no one would love him (can i strangle her can i please please i really fucking want to this absolute-). this is the lead up to what is essentially the turning point in kamiki's life and hkai relationship: the uehara-himekawa murder suicide.

its so incredibly fucked that right after hikaru asks ai if she'll love him forever (as a direct response to airi manipulating him) she doesnt outright say yes (but she admitted she was trying to be honest and that is such a huge step forward for her) and when he tells uehara, the murder suicide happens. its a string of events very heavily culminating in an absolutely horrible situation for kamiki to find himself in. you can see from that panel of kamiki screaming that he absolutely did not mean for that to happen and it weighs on him. and speaking of weights…the Cut 156: Importance of Life comes right after the scene of the uehara-himekawa murder suicide. doesn't that name sound very Very similar to a certain dialogue? 

honestly its this similarity that has me tentatively putting out an incredibly batshit theory that for some reason, before filming and the final script was produced, aqua and kamiki met and something in that conversation caused a noticeable shift in how kamiki was portrayed in film. because for a film meant to murder someone, its oddly sympathetic isn't it? even to the point ai herself becomes a little less sympathetic. almost like it isn't kamiki's sole responsibility (although he was definitely involved) of the murder of ai and that someone else was pulling the strings as well cough secret villain kaburagi-. 

the shift is obvious in how frill calls it an extremely spiteful script…but once the final script is produced, both mem and kana point out that there is some kindness in the work, and that its difficult to say whether there is hatred or not. very shrimptresting. 

this is also backed up by…how exactly did aqua know all of this? i doubt kamiki would've told anyone else except maybe ai, and the only person who would know all of this down to the exact detail is kamiki himself. 

right this is becoming a full conspiracy theory that deserves its own post so lets move on 

anyway this chapter was so good for hikaru-ruby and ai-aqua parallels because hikaru nearly begging ai to say she loves him and will stay forever is incredibly reminiscent of ruby asking aqua if sensei still likes her and not letting him go out of fear he'd disappear if she did so and how both ai and aqua deflect awkwardly in those conversations out of discomfort with the question being presented to them and out of a desire to not outright lie to kamiki and ruby respectively

sidenote: goddamn the acting in this chapter. frill deserves several many awards for this film

sidenote sidenote: in movie!kamiki flopping onto ai was so adorable askjfsks ruby flopped the same way onto ai (in the bath scene in the volume extra)

and before we get to the next section let me just- 

screams 

kana nation we are so fucking back. 

this really is the start of aqua opening up!!! finally. i wonder what shift caused this given how intent he was on Never Telling Anyone but man am i so happy its happening. aqua being happy for the first time in quite a while like…how many chapters has it been? he's happy for 0.6 seconds!!! he giggled!!! im so happy aqua is actually happy askhfsks

aqua also now has a specific wry smile when talking about his mental health (just like ai has a very specific suffocating smile when shes trying to deflect)

kana’s response to this is honestly incredibly in character in that expression of concern she has seconds before she decides to keep the status quo of bickering esque dialogue that she has with aqua (likely trying not the overwhelm him) but very clearly expressing that she doesn’t want aqua to die and extracting the promise from him that he wouldn’t do so. then proceeding to act extra silly to try and cheer him up. kana i love you

aqua dropping the “i find myself happy when im with you” inhales. please excuse me while i go scream into the void. aquakana lets fucking goooooo. and kana quietly saying it back when aqua leaves? auuuuuughhhh

and finally, the real star of this chapter: KAMIKI’S BACK WITH THE MILK THIS IS NOT A DRILL HES BACK

so many things are interesting about these last few panels because at first i thought ruby was at ai’s grave but on a closer look she’s actually at a shrine? hm. for whom i wonder. did crow girl finally get fed up and tell her to give reverence akfsjsks. 

thing is, i don't think ruby’s in danger. because back in the chapter where kamiki debuted (c.72) he…never actually expresses any hatred or dislike towards her? honestly its rather reads like he’s proud of her and also nino apparently confirmed to kamiki that she wasn’t like ai so if that is his actual motive she’s not in danger of being killed for that. akamengo are the real antagonists of this series for the break next week fr. don’t you love oshi no ko our favourite biweekly manga

so this is an interesting ground for a father-daughter conversation isn’t it? 

#oshi no ko manga spoilers #oshi no ko #chapter review #oh wow what a chapter #im going to be chewing over this for weeks #edit: i have completely forgotten several things i wanted to address incl. timeline but honestly. i might just make that another post

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - one

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: mob!Bucky is most definitely not a good person this time around, cursing, mentions of gangs/crime & their activities, death, violence, weapons/guns

word count: 2.5k

a/n: I read your white wolf by @witchywithwhiskey a while ago and that version of Bucky has stuck in my head ever since. This Bucky is 110% inspired by him so go read it after reading this one.

Tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is for anyone to see themselves in her.

Six years earlier 

“Does someone want to tell me who poisoned my whiskey?”

The question hangs in the air as the dinner guests stare at each other, waiting for someone to come forward but no one does. The Rumlow Triplets roll their eyes at their father’s obvious display for dominance while Mrs. Rumlow nervously shifts in her chair. Her daughter looks her up and down in confusion but her father’s voice drags her attention away. “Who was stupid enough to try and poison me?” he demands, slamming his hand on the table and causing the cutlery next to him to jump in fear.

“Was it you?” he points to the eldest triplet, Victoria and when she shakes her head, he directs the question to the second, Niklaus. He finally settles on the youngest, Y/N, “surely it wasn’t you?”

Y/N glances at her mother, a mistake Brock catches too quickly and he motions for his men who were standing next to him to flock Mrs. Rumlow. 

“Or was it my dear wife?” he mocks her as his men crowd her in her chair, “Hm? Was it you Jasmine? Did you try to kill me, your loving husband?”

Jasmine clears her throat and straightens her back before meeting his murderous gaze and answering, “Yes.”

Brock lets out an obnoxious laugh and sits back into his chair. The sound rings out and causes everyone to shutter. That laugh means one thing and one thing only; shit is about to go down. 

And it does. 

He takes the poisoned glass into his hand, turns it as he inspects it and then throws it as hard as he can at Jasmine. She ducks in time for it to shatter against her chair instead of her face. Angry that she dodged him, Brock grabs any and all items that would hurt her and throws him like a crazed man at her. His men grab her by the shoulders to stop her from getting up or otherwise protecting herself. Each new weapon lands around and on her much to the horror of her daughter while the other two sink into their chairs, hoping to find from their father’s rage. 

“After everything that I’ve done for you? This is how you repay me? By poisoning me? You fucking bitch!” he screams when there is nothing left in his reach to throw. Instead of stopping, the man jumps onto the table and marches his way to stand in front of Jasmine, crushing everything in his path. 

Niklaus and Victoria make eye contact before he gestures to Y/N as a silent way to say “we need to get her out. Now.” Victoria nods and silently slips out of her chair as Niklaus does the same. In the meantime, Brock is screaming more and more vulgar things at Jasmine and spares no hurtful detail as he does what he can to mentally beat her down. The siblings grab Y/N and put a finger to their lips, telling her to be quiet as they sneak out of the room. 

“What about my mom?” Y/N whispers to Niklaus who pulls her into his side as Victoria closes the dining room door. 

A gunshot rings out and answers her question for him. Her eyes widen in shock and she tries to turn, fighting against them as she does so. Niklaus scoops her onto his shoulder and takes off running towards the front door as Victoria pulls her gun from her thigh, running behind them. 

“Go, go, go!” she yells at Niklaus when they hear Brock’s monstrous yell rip through the hall after them. More shots ring out and the triplets drop for a moment before picking up their pace again. Y/N cries against her brother’s back but doesn’t fight anymore. 

There’s no point. 

Brock won. 

Feeling that she’s stopped failing, Nikalus drops her to her feet and grabs her hand to drag her along. Without missing a step, Y/N keeps up with the other two Rumlow children and kicks off her shoes in the process. Victoria fires back behind her as they stop at the front door. Niklaus shoves it open and ushers the two girls out, leaving the door wide open as he sprints after them. 

“Walker! Close the gates!” Brock shouts and fires towards his children who are running for their lives towards the security car kept out front. 

Victoria returns fire while her brother practically throws Y/N into the passenger’s seat. To her left sits a familiar brunette. 

Maria Hill. 

Victoria’s aunt. 

Maria revs the engine and Niklaus slams the door shut much to his sister's dismay. 

“What are you doing? Get in! He’s going to kill you!” she shouts at him but he just smiles at her and nods to Maria. Victoria takes her brother’s hand and together they wish their sister goodbye before turning their attention to their father at the top of the stairs. Even though she can’t quite see his face, she knows that he is full of rage and is ready to murder anyone he sees fit. 

Maria peels out of the driveway, leaving a trail of dust and rocks in her wake as she speeds Y/N to safety. The 17 year old stares at the rearview mirror as she abandons her family behind. She tears her gaze away when she sees Brock march down the stairs, gunshot in hand and pointed at Niklaus and Victoria. 

Maria grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“They’ll be okay. He won’t kill them. They’re too valuable,” she tells Y/N however it does nothing to ease her nerves. 

“Yeah but he can make them wish they were dead,” Y/N says with her eyes staring straight forward. 

Brock will make them wish they were dead, give them a break so they think they’re safe and then he’ll do it all over again.

She can only hope that Niklaus and Victoria are strong enough to hold on until she can figure out how to get them out. 

Present 

Six years can change a lot. 

The entire US Senate potentially turns over in that time. 

Jupiter goes from one side of the sun to the other. 

A person can mature from a teenager to an adult. 

Y/N Rumlow shed her skin as the Rumlow Snake and became Y/N Juárez to hide any connection to her family. Actually she became Jasmine Juárez for a short period of time but it hurt too much to hear her mom’s name so she went back to Y/N. Maria thought it was stupid to keep her real first name but Y/N refused to change it to anything else. Stubborn 17 year olds will do that; refuse to do something just because they were asked to. It took Maria nearly two years to get her to trust her even though they’d known each other for years. But that’s what happens when Brock is in the picture; he takes a person and breaks them over and over again until they become his perfect playthings. He’d done that to Victoria’s mom, LeeAnn, and Niklaus’ mom, Elena, before he’d done it to Jasmine. It was his favorite hobby and something he loved to do to his children, the Triplets as they were lovingly called for being only a year apart each. 

Regardless, Y/N is now 23 and has been safely hidden from her father for six years in Arizona. Her last name allowed her to blend in enough that if he did try to find her, he would have a hell of a time searching through thousands of Y/N Juárezs. Not to mention that he hated leaving his fortress in the lower east side so the chances of him showing up in Phoenix were slim to none or they had been until recently. 

Her apartment always feels neutral and calm when she walks in after work. She always makes sure to turn all of the lights off, set the alarms, and put the essential oil diffuser on a timer so that when she walks through the door, she would be surrounded by peace and lavender. Today, though, something cuts through that carefully planned serenity. 

It’s sharp and metallic with a hint of cleaning chemicals. 

Y/N pauses at her door as she takes a deeper whiff; the air smells of copper. Metal that slides together time and time again. Her body goes still for a moment when she smells the signature smell of gun smoke. 

Reaching into her purse, she produces the small protection gun Maria bought her when she first escaped. The training takes over and she holds it in front of her like a good little soldier as she scans the room before entering. She does full scans with her eyes and gun as she walks further into her apartment in search of the reason behind the smell. 

A light is on in her bedroom. 

She creeps towards the door. Seeing that it’s cracked open, she presses her body against the wall next to it and slowly peeks her head in to quickly scan for anyone, anything.

Sitting on the edge of her bed is Victoria and standing against a window that overlooks the road is Niklaus, both casually lounging as if they owned the place. Y/N nudges the door open with her gun and allows gravity to let it swing as she stands still in the frame, gun pointed at her sister. 

Victoria is the first to look and a wide grin breaks across her face when she sees her long lost sister. 

“Y/N!” she shrieks and Niklaus scolds her with his eyes before sharing the same bright grin.  

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks, ignoring their joy. 

“We wanted to see you,” Victoria lies poorly. 

Niklaus rolls his eyes before correcting her, “He needs you. Well not you but the Snake, he needs the Snake.”

“No.”

“We have strict orders.”

“I don’t care. Get out.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that,” Victoria butts in. 

“I don’t care. Get out,” Y/N repeats, cocking the hammer of her revolver to emphasize her point. 

“Your neighbors will call the cops if you shoot me.” 

“It’s Phoenix. There’s always gunshots going on.”

Niklaus chuckles and pushes off the wall, taking in the room around him. It’s bare, minimalist to the core with nothing to show that a human with close relationships lives there. He finds one picture in a white clay frame on the nightstand and in it is Maria with Y/N and a dog. 

“See you got in a few good years before she died?”

Y/N’s nose flairs at the obvious jab, “I’ll give you a five second head start.”

“Oh so generous,” he mocks and rolls his eyes again before turning serious, “The White Wolf is after us. Brock needs you to take him out before he can get to us.”

“Not my problem. You have three seconds now.”

Victoria, growing impatient and not wanting to be shot, speaks up, “He’s how we found you.”

Y/N looks at her with confusion before she clarifies that the White Wolf had sent their father a letter with her address and surveillance pictures. 

“That’s not possible.”

Victoria pulls out one of the pictures from her jacket pocket and tosses it on the bed. 

“Clearly it is.”

Y/N snatches up the picture and it does show her in this very room getting ready for bed. She turns the picture over and writes on the back is “ONE MISTAKE AND SHE’S DEAD.”

Tossing the picture back, she re-trains her gun on Victoria and says, “Brock wants me dead anyways so why would he care what happens to me?”

“Like I said, he needs the Snake. He’s made it very clear that he could care less about you, Y/N, but he needs the weapon that he made you into if he wants any chance at surviving this.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Freedom.” 

“I had that.”

“No you didn’t,” Niklaus says, “You thought you did but with the White Wolf dead, you could actually have it and not have to worry about anyone coming after you.”

Y/N snorts in disbelief, “it’ll never be over.” 

Victoria pipes up again, “Kill Brock too then.” Niklaus and Y/N look at her like she’s lost her mind. 

“What? We’ve all thought about it but she’s the only one who would be able to do it,” she shrugs off their disapproving looks. 

Y/N thinks it over for a moment before lowering her gun and moving towards her closet. It’s Victoria’s turn to exchange confused looks with Niklaus while the other triplet packs her stuff into a backpack. She emerges from the closet to toss the backpack on the bed and sits on the edge to lace up her boots. 

Sensing that she has eyes burning holes into her back, she straightens up and answers their question, “I’ll do it but I’m killing Brock too and you can either help me or stay out of my way.”

The White Wolf sits in a chair, swirling his bourbon around as the ice ball hits the inside of the crystal glass. He watches the flames lick up the walls of the home and revels in the way that the ashes fall on the grass around him. The flames reach higher and higher until they devour the second story of the house. The inhabitants, rats in his own family, scream and bang against the windows as the fire reaches the room they are locked in. 

He wiggles his fingers at them as a sadistic wave and tosses his head back to swallow the rest of the bourbon. Throwing the glass at the fire, the White Wolf stands and motions for his men to follow him to their cars. His right hand man, Sam Wilson, whispers something into his ear and he smiles that wolfish grin. 

“They’re enroute,” Sam confirms when they climb into the car. 

The White Wolf nods, “Looks like I’ll get to meet Rumlow’s famed Snake after all. How long until they’re here.”

“Five, six hours max.”

“Send Steve to his house in five hours then. Have him wait there until he gets eyes on the Triplets. I need visual confirmation that they are all in the city.”

Sam nods and calls Steve to relay the message. The car pulls out of the driveway as the house becomes completely engulfed in flames. 

“Oh and tell the fire department to wait until tonight to respond,” he adds and Sam nods once again. 

The White Wolf settles back into his seat, closing his eyes as he allows the comfort of the leather seats to surround him. Relaxation is rare for him but he takes it when he can get it and with Brock acting a fool lately, it’s seeming like those moments are going to become increasingly more rare. 

Until relaxation can return to his everyday life, he’ll settle for choosing chaos everywhere he goes.  

It’s what he does best. 

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #mafia au #marvel #marvel fanfiction #as good a reason bucky barnes

[tmntxthings]

You can’t just do that.

Do what?

Message me.

Are you serious?

Yes.

Why?

Because then I’ll start thinking about you. And it’s 2 am.

What does the time have to do with anything?

When I’m still awake at 2 am, that means something is wrong. My brain is overthinking. And I cannot under any circumstances start thinking about you.

Again, I ask why?

Because if I think of you.. then I’ll overthink things with you. Like why would you message me so out of the blue, at this time of night? You must’ve thought of me. Which makes me wonder. Why? What made you think of me? A show? A movie? Were you reading? Or did it happen naturally in your own thoughts? Which wouldn’t make sense because we aren’t close. We aren’t friends. We hardly talk throughout the year! So you can’t just message me out of nowhere like this, and especially at this time because this is what I’ll do. I’ll start to ramble. I’ll jump to conclusions. Do you like me? Have you always liked me? Do you feel fearless now at this time of night where you can just fall asleep and forget about it? I think you must like me. That has to be the reason. Why else would someone message another so randomly without cause or violation? You have no right, and yet all the right to do so. And now I am here sinking in my thoughts. Drowning in words. I told you not to do this. Yet you did it anyway. In spite of me? Perhaps. And all of this thinking has run its course and made me tired. Now I am sleepy. But when I wake up, I will remember. And so will you, even if you can somehow convince yourself otherwise. I have nothing else to say, other than this. I am tired, and I wish to sleep and stop overthinking.

You can’t just do that.

Do what?

Message me a huge paragraph and then fall asleep right after.

#donnie? #is that you? #how did this happen #donatello hamato #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt fandom #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie x reader #am I just sticking a turtle to this? #maybe #it’s up for the people to decide #tag talk #rise donnie #donnie hamato #tmnt donnie x reader #donatello #tmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt x reader

[bleachification]

hope is the devil’s crux

pairing: chuuya x doctor!reader

warnings: lil bit of gore, not very graphic at all

summary: sometimes life is a bit unfair. other times, life sticks you in an inescapable, abandoned tunnel with the man who hates your guts for betraying him, and who is also bleeding out from a stab wound that only you (the traitor) can heal.

authors note(s): part two can be found: here :*

“Go away. I don’t need you.”

“I am the only doctor in a ten-mile radius; we are stuck underground without a way out; I think you may have a concussion, and—oh right—you are currently impaled. So I would argue that yes, actually, you do need me.”

Chuuya tries to scowl, but it comes off as a stiff grimace instead. “I can handle it.”

You stare at him—a bloody mess leaning against a concrete wall—in utter exasperation. His dress shirt is soaked to the point where it blends into the black jacket wrapped around his shoulders. A foot-long jagged hunk of metal, dripping a sinewy red, juts out from the left side of his abdomen like some kind of sick accessory.

Chuuya’s breaths come in terrifyingly shallow beats, and his complexion is beginning to resemble that of a corpse.

Despite his horrid (and visibly pained) state, he refuses you.

If it weren’t such a tense situation, you would probably roll your eyes.

“Stubborn fool. I’m not going to sit here and watch you bleed out. What kind of doctor do you take me for?” You kneel beside him and begin carefully examining the wound. Featherlight fingers trace the outline of his injury as you assess its severity. The feeling jolts him. You can tell by the twitch of his muscles and the way goosebumps rise from his flesh, prickling as skin meets skin.

Chuuya pulls back, despite the pain moving causes. It is an instinct. A defense mechanism structured to protect and force him as far away from your hands as he can get. He needs space—needs it from your touch, your scent, your voice… from your very existence. Any closer and the throbbing in his chest would soon override every other feeling coursing through his body.

“I told you to get away from me; I don’t want your—“

“If the word ‘pity’ even tries to come out of your mouth, I’ll jam this thing five inches deeper,” you warn.

Chuuya doesn’t reply at first. Instead, he turns his head towards the source of your threat and for the first time in hours; he looks you in the eyes. His gaze is half-lidded, but that doesn’t mask his spite. It also doesn’t entirely hide the flickers of emotions he desperately tries to quell. Luckily for Chuuya, you are too preoccupied with arguing with him to register the brewing sentiments reflected in his eyes.

Beads of sweat trickle down the side of his cheek—all the way down to the edge of his chin—until they fall flat onto the dirt-ridden, moss-infested ground, sinking deep within the earth until all that’s left is a darkened patch. The tension is thick as oil and abundantly apparent—in both his jaw and the air between you.

“I don’t want your fake compassion, Doctor.” The redhead spits out that last part as if merely thinking the word fills his mouth with vile poison. Or at least something vividly similar.

You don’t let it show, but his words pierce the air and cut like a sword through your chest, cleaving your heart into halves during the process. It is a familiar sensation, a tangled mess of emotions that has been following you like a restless phantom since the moment you left—and inevitably betrayed—the Port Mafia.

Guilt. Frustration. A foreign and unpleasant sensation that you aren’t brave enough to put a name to.

“I don’t exactly care what you want. I refuse to watch someone die, knowing I could have changed the outcome.” You feign a quick cough, hoping it covers up the waver in your voice.

Chuuya does not believe you. He believes you would bleed him dry and leave him out to hang. He believes you are the sort of person that would enjoy watching him suffer—as you’ve caused him to do so many times in the past. He believes you to be the same type of scum as that idiot Dazai—a traitor who knows nothing of the meaning of loyalty. But at least Dazai had the decency not to toy with Chuuya’s heart and leave it a bitter, ragged mess. At least Dazai only left physical scars, not tainted marks hidden beneath the surface that are only perceivable to Chuuya and Chuuya alone.

You are lying. Chuuya thinks. You have been lying to me for years.

He almost speaks, a myriad of raw and acute thoughts on the edge of his lips, but stops himself just as quickly. Because voicing that thought will be the same as admitting he cares for your words and the weight they may hold. It would imply that you still occupy a place deep inside his heart, buried underneath the layers of dust and wounds, a weakness he cannot afford. So instead, Chuuya simply asks: “Will you leave me alone if I let you fix me?”

You sigh, and a hint of relief seeps out. “I might.”

What a big fat lie. If you don’t keep an eye on him there is a high chance of Chuuya sleeping himself into a coma, but lying is part of your nature and you will fabricate existence itself if doing so means helping him recover.

Chuuya tilts his head back until it gently rests against cold concrete, closing his eyes in acceptance of what you are about to do. Strangely it feels like he’s accepting you… if only for this one night.

In this damp and eerily empty space, the only perceivable sounds come from dripping water and the both of your breaths; his are much raspier than yours. You hope he doesn’t notice the erratic thudding coming from your chest as you inch closer and closer toward him; until you can feel his body’s warmth wash over you. Ignoring (or at the very least trying to) his overwhelming presence, you begin working.

Chuuya is silent during the whole ordeal. As you peel the rest of the fabric away from the wound and examine it in its entirety, the only hint of discomfort he gives is a barely audible hitch in his breath.

You procure sanitizing wipes from the medical kit that sits skewed on your hip and then swipe them across his skin to sterilize the wound and prep for the next—and most crucial—step: extracting the metal.

“What I’m about to do… it will—”

Chuuya’s voice cuts you off. It's softer this time, perhaps from exhaustion. “Hurt. I’m well aware. This isn’t the first time, remember?”

You do. The amount of times Chuuya had walked into the infirmary with something needing fixed couldn’t be counted on the hands of a dozen people. Back when you still worked undercover at the Port Mafia as their head doctor, half your time would be consumed by Chuuya and his medical incidents. Most of those occurrences were for minor injuries that probably would have gone away with a band-aid or a few hours of rest, but you always suspected he used the petty cuts and bruises as an excuse to see you. You feel your lips lift up in a small smile at the nostalgic memory, back when your relationship with Chuuya was much, much simpler.

Chuuya sneezes, then groans from the motion. It snaps you from your stupor and you start to rip open the left side of your shirt, hurrying as you ignore the onslaught of echoes of the past.

Chuuya’s eyes bug out to the size of saucers.

“What do y—what are you doing?!” He sputters, voice rising an octave with every word. Colour seems to have returned to his cheeks as he frantically averts his gaze away from you.

The left sleeve falls off your bare shoulder as you struggle with tearing off the bottom. “I don’t have any bandages that are big enough. Plus, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“That time was an accident!”

The threads finally break loose as you give a final yank. “You ‘accidentally’ walked in on my private bath?”

“Dazai switched the signs. That prick,” Chuuya mutters, face still turned away from you.

His exasperation makes you laugh—a short, sharp huff that draws his attention to yours once more.

Your laugh falters as his eyes meet yours once again. They shine with something foreign, yet so very familiar. Chuuya loathes you. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it. So why does he look at you like a world like that could never exist? It is a terrible and false hope his expression ignites—one that pours poison into your eyes and blinds you to the truth. Hope is the worst kind of temptation—devilry hiding behind the mask of something pure—but it is also the only thing keeping you sane in this moment.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Focus.

The heat is making you dizzy, or perhaps it's the tight proximity between you and the man who has taken up almost every waking thought of yours in the last two years.

Definitely the latter.

“I don’t have any numbing agents. But here, open your mouth.”

He does as you say, though hesitantly, and you place a makeshift gag between his lips and motion for him to bite down.

“I am really, really sorry,” you whisper.

Chuuya’s groans, even muffled by the cloth, are loud. They echo and bounce off the tunnel walls until finally fading into the distance. It is a long and arduous operation, but he calms down significantly when you successfully remove the source of his pain.

“That was…” He blows out a sharp breath, “that was rough.”

Chuuya is less hostile now. You’re not sure if that’s a sign to be relieved or worried.

“I’m going to stitch you up now, okay?” Your voice comes out low, as if trying to pacify a frightened wild animal.

A curt nod is the only answer you get. At least Chuuya’s no longer trying to pull away or argue, though it’s probably because the night’s fatigue has finally taken hold of him.

You begin to patch him up and pretend his muscles don’t tense every time the needle pushes through.

Always pretending to be okay, even in the direst of situations.

It’s one of the traits he shares with you—an incredible stubbornness that frequently breeds trouble… and a whole lot of grief.

As you finish bandaging Chuuya’s torso, you sneak a glance at him. He is considerably more relaxed, but more importantly, he is staring straight at you.

“What? Something on my face?” You tease, with zero expectation of an answer.

So imagine your surprise when he scoffs and replies with: “I wish. Unfortunately, I find my sight gravitating to your face more often than not. It’s fucking annoying.”

What? Your head spins as his blunt admission sends your equilibrium askew and it takes a second longer for you to completely process his words, and their underlying implication. What does he mean by it? Is it an impulse fueled by his hatred for you? Or does it mean something else entirely… something that gives rise to flickering rays of hope.

“Are you done?” Chuuya’s raspy voice breaks your train of thought once again and grounds you back to reality.

“Almost. I need to double-check something,” you respond.

You spend the next couple of minutes rattling off questions and monitoring his condition. After checking him over once more and finding no sign of a concussion, you let out a sigh of relief and take a seat beside him against the wall.

“You should get some rest for now, your body needs it. I’ll keep watch and see if we can get a signal and call for help,” you inform, already turning on your phone and checking the service. There’s one bar (thank god), and you begin dialing.

Chuuya doesn’t respond until after you’ve called for backup. “I’ll watch. You sleep.” His tone is flat. Final. No room for discussion.

You shake your head, incredulous. “I’m the one who wasn’t bleeding out a minute ago. You sleep.”

Chuuya’s features contort into an expression of annoyance. “No.”

No? No?

You try a nicer tone—a polite one—a tone you use with your more obstinate patients. “Chuuya, your body needs rest. I promise nothing will happen and I’ll wake you when help arrives. Then I’ll get out of your hair and you’ll never have to see me again. I promise.”

He only stares at you like you’ve suggested disembowelment. It makes your left eye twitch. Just a little.

“I said no,” he argues.

You sigh again. “Chuuya plea–”

“I’m not fucking sleeping.”

You explode.

“God, why are you so hard headed? I’m telling you to rest, not cut off a limb! For fucks sake, Chuuya it’s not that big of an ask!” Your chest—much like your anger—rises as you draw in deep breaths.

“And I told you: I. Don’t. Need. It.” Chuuya grits out.

You glare at each other for a rigid minute before the exhaustion of the night takes over and pulls you to the ground, a fair distance away from Chuuya. You stay silent for a beat before voicing your thoughts out softly and wearily. “Why must you keep fighting me?”

A long and hollow silence fills the dark space around you. Not a single sound other than those set by the environment is heard. You quickly realize he has no intention to answer the question posed.

Five minutes pass. Then ten.

“I can’t.”

You jerk and practically keel over from the sudden response, but steady yourself just in time to cock your head and ask: “Can’t keep fighting me?”

Chuuya spares you a glance—it has ‘you are an idiot’ written all over it.

“I cannot sleep.” He enunciates each word as if he was attempting to explain quantum mechanics to a toddler.

What an ass.

You swallow down the insults bubbling up your throat (because you are a good person who exercises patience) and shift your body until you position yourself directly across from him. Toe-to-toe, face-to-face.

“Insomnia?”

One simple word; generally it carries minimal significance, and yet it has Chuuya freezing as soon as it is mentioned.

He hesitates and eventually: “...Yes.”

“Medications? Any therapeutic remedies?” You’re in full doctor-mode, poking and prodding in an effort to procure an empirical diagnosis.

“Didn’t work. Any of it,” he huffs.

“How long?”

He turns away from you and drops his head slightly, as if preparing for his answer. “Since November.”

November? Why would that month be such—oh. Oh.

Shit.

Chuuya turns to look at you and frowns upon seeing your expression.

“Don’t. It’s not—“

“My fault?” Your voice comes out shakier than before, but it’s nothing compared to how rattled you are from the realization that Chuuya can’t sleep anymore because of you. Because of what you did to him.

“It’s not,” he assures. His eyes are still fixated on you, and for the first time tonight he’s the one looking worried.

You can only shake your head, afraid of your voice breaking along with what’s left of your resilience.

“It’s not your fault I’m weak,” he murmurs.

That has you snapping your head towards him. Chuuya? Weak? He may be a lot of things, but weak would never come close to being an adjective that describes Chuuya.

“You… you’re kidding, right?”

He must hear the disbelief in your tone because he laughs—albeit sardonically.

“Please. If I wasn’t, do you really think I would have let you walk out of there alive that night?”

You suck in a sharp breath. He’s referring to the night you left the Port Mafia for good. Even after all this time, the image of Chuuya’s expression as you turned your back and walked away with the Agency members is still freshly ingrained into your mind—furious, disappointed, gutted.

“It was my job, Chuuya,” you whisper.

His next question knocks all of the air out of your lungs.

“Was I just a job to you then?”

No. Hell no. Never.

But you can’t say that. So you do what you do best; you lie.

“Yes. You were just a job, nothing more.”

Chuuya bursts out into short laughter, except it sounds too hysterical for it to be genuine. It winds down to a weary sigh as he drops his head into his head, his signature hat falling onto the dirt beside him.

He mumbles something, but his position and your distance makes it ineligible.

“Sorry?” You scooch closer until your thighs almost press up against his, craning your neck in an attempt to hear.

“I said..” He looks up, and you find yourself staring into his eyes for the millionth time today. Long lashes partially conceal his pupils as he repeats his words.

“You are very cruel to me.”

It is the last thing he says to you before the sound of sirens burst from the tunnel's collapsed entrance.

#x reader #lovers to enemies #stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungoustraydogs #bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x reader #chuuya fic #chuuya scenarios #angst #bsd angst #chuuya angst #bsd oneshot #oneshot #anime x reader #manga x reader #dazai

[luvly-writer]

“You are my sunshine”

Part 17: The art of alcohol and yearning for love

——————————————-

Jason Todd x Latina! Reader

Social Media Au

Warnings: Alcohol

Status: Finished

Author’s note: Writing under pictures! Enjoy!! I will never get tired of saying how much i ADORE your feedback!!!

Taglist: @lorosette @milas-teapot @screeching20s @alecmores @izukuisbaby @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @unofficial-jaytodd-wife

Series Masterlist:

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-•-Jason’s POV

it had been a stressful day for Jason

Not only had the press mistaken Artemis friendship with him potentially straining his relationship with his soulmate

and yes he is aware, she IS his soulmate, they are bound to be together and connected for the rest of their lives, but what the fuck, he cares cause he loves her so damnn much he…

Jason doesn’t go down that path knowing damn well it won’t end well at the moment

He called Bruce and went to the Manor

Tim and Bruce are calling Gotham Gazette and making sure the article is taken down, yk fixing any damage that it might have down

he has been trying to call Yn all afternoon and she wont answer

he’s left a bunch of messages and even thought of going to her apartment but he opted to give her some space to calm down

the rest of the day was spent thing of scenerios that could possibly happen

Artemis wanted to pass by and see how he was going but he told her it was better to stay away from the manor and out of sight together whilst the whole thing went away

She still mega tube to the cave, thanks Artie for being such a good friend (hope you taste the sarcasm)

Jason goes down to the cave and greets her, she is not looking happy and an unhappy amazon is NEVER good.

“Care to explain why i am not allowed to be seen with one of my best friends?”

“Artie, it’s difficult to explain, with the whole article blowing up its a little tense right now”

“why? it’s just press, we both know it isn’t true and that it’ll cool off in a few days”

“yes but there is someone believing it is true and i need for her to stop believing it is true”

“i see why your panic is so evident then”

“well yes-“

“who would have thought? Jason Todd panicked because of the media. Never in my life-“

“mmkay enough, is my misery amusing to you?”

“yes, quite a lot, especially if it’s because of a girl after you swore your only relationship in life would be spite and chaos. i must meet this girl!”

“yes we’ll right now neither of us is gonna have any luck with talking to her seeing as she probably isn’t the happiest with me right now”

Artemis starts to laugh and Jason looks at her questionably

“She probably thinks we truly are a thing! That’s ridiculous”

Jason is confused by what she says…they have had encounters in the past, like they HAVE fallen to bed together, why is it ridiculous

Seeing her friend still confused , Artemis chuckles and explains “I had come with news my friend. You see, let’s just say your girlfriend has more chances of having me as a lover than you.”

Of course

as if this couldn’t get anymore ridiculous to believe

Jason laughs in disbelief

“Well, that makes my explanation to her 10 time easier”

Artemis starts to laugh, “Let me see her, all the pictures you post of her don’t show her face”

Jason takes out his phone and starts to show many of the pics he has with her.

“hmmmm and are you sure she is completely off limits? Cause if it fails with you, i can come and pick up the pieces” Artemis says with a teasing look in her eyes

Jason glares at her and rolls his eyes

“Yes absolutely out of limits, she is MY soulmate after all, My person! get your own”

Artemis cackles in response and just when she’s about to respond a notification pops up

- yn__truly just made a post-

At that Artemis lost it

“YOU HAVE HER NOTIFICATIONS ON!?!?! OMG JASON!!! YOU ARE WHIPPED!” She howls. Her laughter sounding through all the cave.

Jason’s face was worth it. He was red in the face, trying to fight of a smile and trying to come up with what to say.

“Oh fuck off”

At that, another fit of giggles erupted from the girl.

He opens his instagram only to find out that Nola and Yn are at some rich asshole’s party and they were drinking A LOT.

The captions were concerning so he decided that that night he would leave his phone without do not disturb, just in case ANYTHING happened

And how thankful he was of making that decision.

After Artemis had left, Jason opted to stay this night at the manor and not go to patrol, Alfred advised it was for the best seeing has his emotions were all over the place. Instead of staying in the cave, he walked towards the library, grabbed a book, and sat down in his section.

Time went by and before he knew it, it was nearing 1 am. Just as he is about to turn the page, his phone rings.

He looks at the caller and sees Yn’s contact name, “Light of my eyes”

The day his siblings found out that was her contact name, they had a field day. But that’s a story for another time

He picks it up and the cringes at the loud music

“HEYYYYY! THIS IS JASON RIGHT!?!?”

A voice he didn’t recognize

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“Oh perfect! This isssss Nolaaaaa! I’m a bit tipsy right now but you should seeee Y/n, full out gone! I’m calling you cause cause causeeeee well cause….i don’t remember my reason…”

he laughed a little, she really did sound like how Yn described her

“but AnyWAYsssss, come pick up Yn, she’sss like drunkie drinkity drunk drunk and i’m not like you know soberity sobers right now so yeahhhh!”

Fuck, he didn’t hesitate to answer

“Alright, text me the address and i’ll pick her up and make sure to take her back home”

Nola told him the direction of the hotel and soon he arrived.

He wore black sweatpants with a white t-shirt and his grey running shoes. He had his signature red hoodie in the car just in case yn got cold.

he walks to the lobby and spots Nola and sun sitting in the sofa giggling out of their minds until they spot him.

“JAY!” Yn screams and runs to him with open arms. He lets her embrace him and holds her there whilst Nola walks over.

“Thank you for taking her home” she smiles and blows a kiss to Yn, “bestie you are in safe hands” says Nola as she walks away and opens the door to the ballroom, starting to dance as she gets in.

Yn is literally cuddled up to him, clearly not sober and looks up at him

Her eyes look watery and soft as she takes him in

Before she can say anything, he holds her and starts carrying her bridal style to the car

On the way to her apartment, yn got cold and Jason gave her his hoodie. Even if the tight black dress looked nothing less of delicious on her, seeing her in his clothes killed him

She had worn his leather jacket various times before, and every time, it made him almost dizzy with love

She then connected her phone to the aux and started blasting her favorite songs and screaming the lyrics out

From Bad Bunny to Shakira, she sang every word with her heart and soul

He found it amusing and even adorable

This is not something new, she has done this a few times in the car, but seeing her do it drunk and mess up the lyrics and even almost cry at some was another thing and it made him laugh.

“El mismo aire” from Pablo Alborán and Camilo starts to play

(i’ll write the spanish version lyrics with their translation, an amAZING FKN SONG EVERYONE SHOULD LISTEN TO)

“tu y yo, pasamos de ser todo a nada” (you and i, went from being everything to nothing)

“de comernos con la mirada” (of eating each other with our eyes)

“y ahora estamos frente a frente, y ni siquiera puedes mirarme a la cara” (and now we are face to face and you can’t even look at me in the eyes)

“vivíamos de boca a boca” (we lived with our mouths touching)

“los labios no querían soltarse” (our lips didn’t want to leave each other)

“y ahora aquí en el mismo cuarto no podemos respirar el mismo aire” (and now we are in the same room and we can’t even breathe the same air)

yn opted to sit back and just whisper the song

the whole vibe of the car started to tone down to one more intimate, slow and relaxed.

“Llévate el tapete” (pull away the rug)

“llévate mi vida que agarraste de juguete” (take away my life that you took as a toy)

at that, Jason heard a small sniffle and turned to looked at her, she was numbly looking at the road, her eyes watery and a single tear running down her cheek. They were already nearing her apartment.

“Llévate ese par de anillos que nos comprometen” (take away those rings that compromise us)

“y, aunque no quiera perderte, te diría vete, pero el que se va soy yo” (and even if i don’t want to lose your, i’d say leave but the one who leaves is me)

“y cuando me vaya me llevo el reloj, pa llevarme el tiempo que pase contigo, que no fue perdido” (and when i leave i’ll take the clock and take all the time with you, which wasn’t lost)

the song carried out, but yn stayed silent. more tears ran down her cheeks

He had heard he talk Spanish before but my God, was he addicted to hearing her singing it. It was intoxicating and it didn’t help that she had a nice voice. For a moment, he forgot everything and just let himself be mesmerized by the girl next to him. His heart beat so strong for her, it pained sometimes.

She turned to look at him

“Jason…” she whispered, voice full of sorrow

he looked at her, it was noticeable she still wasn’t sober by the way her gaze fell on him.

“yk…you strangely look a lot like him, mr. uber nola hired” said she and there he got his confirmation that Lord she was not there yet.

“well mister uber, i have a question, have you ever been in love with someone you knew from the start you couldn’t have?” she questions him and Jason just stares at her. He shakes his head no, which prompts her to continue

“Lucky you, my friend, lucky man. I am not so fortunate you see, I fucked up. I fucked up! and i’m so stupid for it,” at this, she closes her eyes and more tears start to go down her checks, “Jaosn fkn Peter Todd, maybe you know him. Well you probably do…he’s Bruce Wayne’s son you see. You might be wondering how i got myself tangled up with him. Funny thing is, i have no idea. One day you go to a gala, the next you are the Wayne kids’ current obsession and one of the is hitting on you and asking you on a date and romancing you and you think you are special and you feel loved and noticed until BOOM! He changes to someone else and you don’t even know what did you do wrong to make him leave….” she takes a deep breathe and tries to wipe her tears. “Who knew rich kids could be so fkn cruel?!?! Just because they have money doesn’t mean they can just USE civilians for their enjoyment!”

HUH!?!?? Is…is that what she thought it was????

“My theory is that they hold a game to pick one random civilian and have one of them romance them just cause and see how far they can get and my bet is that because i was not being easy on Jason, he got bored and went to get someone of his actual league.” she says slumping against the chair dejectedly

Jason was stunned and flabbergasted. Oh his sweet girl, how wrong could she be about ALL of them. She had never expressed anything about this (well he couldn’t exactly blame her either). Had they given that impression? He thought about his siblings obsession and bet. He thought about the challenge and how out of the blue it was. She was right to believe something weird was going on. She had every right to not be trusting because it HAD been weird and they hadn’t noticed because of their excitement to meet her and have her be a part of the family. And then, the pictures with Artemis. Fuck. He was suffering from a cause that wasn’t even his fault, it just was a LOT of lack of communication. Her feelings were so valid.

“I was just a toy, a joke, a charity case, a nothing, a small moment of a good time” she kept on going and a fresh round of tears began, “the worst part of it all is that I’d repeat it in a heartbeat, I’d say yes all over again, cause if i get to be part of Jason’s world even if it’s a small portion of it. You know…there were times i could swear his soul and mine were made of the same magic…we just fit, you know” her voice starts to tremble and she shakes her head, “how foolish of me to think I could have someone that surely was never meant to be mine” she finished and continues to wipe her tears.

“If only you knew my love, my light, my soul, if only you knew, that our souls ARE made by the same magic and were made to be intertwined” Jason couldn’t help but think

They stayed in silent as she finally calms down, “i am so so sorry, i’m here spilling my heart out to some random uber” she starts to apologize and he almost chuckles, she is still so drunk out of her mind she hasn’t recognized him. “it’s alright” he responds

He parks the car, turns it off, helps her out of it and bring her to her apartment. He’s been there a few times and already knows his way around.

Once inside, he carries her a lays her on her bed

Because of all the many nights they have gone facetiming, he knows her night skin care routine by heart, so he sits her up, takes her make up with her make up wipes and helps her with it. He is so gentle with her, as if he fears she might break. He ties her hair up, knowing she hates sleeping with it loose.

The entire time she is looking at the abyss, her head in another world.

Finally he tells her to get changed, which she nods and goes to the bathroom and does.

The entire time is spent with soft orders and a comfortable silence.

once she is changed, she tries to give him his hoodie but he tells her to keep it.

She gets in bed and before he knows it, she’s sound asleep

Today must have been just as draining for her

He goes to the kitchen and comes back with some pain killers for the morning and a water bottle. He puts them on her bedside table and kisses her heads He whispers goodnight and leaves, making sure to turn off the lights and lock the apartment door as he leaves.

Jason sits on the car, and sighs as he turns it on and starts to drive back to the manor

Tomorrow will be hell, that’s for sure.

<3

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[verdemoun]

Sean drops reform school lore when he’s drunk but Kieran shares O’Driscoll lore and the gang are genuinely shocked he took so long to break because he will not shut up.

"Arthur you just might be my best friend and it bothers me how casually some people in the gang tell you that you're dumb 'cause you ain't but... Christ you are thick sometimes. I took you to an O'Driscoll hideout NEAR Valentine. I made a point of saying it was just passed Valentine, and told you I saw O'Driscolls riding around NEAR Valentine how could I have made it more clear they owned the town."

"Gotta say one thing Dutch did right was shooting Colm's brother. That feller may have been the most heinous, vile son of a bitch I have ever had the displease of meeting. His 'funeral' is still the best damned party I've ever been to." "... That was in 1886 how long were you with the O'Driscolls?" "I mean I wasn't riding with them at the time just y'know how it is gangs running into each other my previous outfit got invited." "Your previous gang were invited to the celebration of Colm's brothers death." "Ye."

(overhearing someone having the 'there was a second rat' discussion) "Don't be dumb. Colm sold out other gangs to authorities all the time after Six Point he probably tipped Cornwall off about Valentine out of spite for the train score. Hell some of the O'Driscolls were known Pinkerton informants Colm just told them what they were allowed to tell the Pinkertons, kept the heat off hideouts."

"Lmao Colm is a bottom." "What the fuck Kieran."

"We were actually under orders not to shoot to kill in interactions with you guys because Colm wanted the joy to himself. Also he really believed Dutch cared enough to send someone looking if he captured any one of you alive he'd been trying to plan something like the parlay for years." "Thanks for the heads up." "It could NOT HAVE MORE OBVIOUSLY BEEN A TRAP."

#kieran duffy #rdr2 timewarp au #rdr2