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theelazaruspit · 7 months

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Lazy Sunday | Husband!John Price x Author!Reader

Getting some much-needed stress relief from your doting husband

Warning/content: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, gentle dom!price, established relationship, porn with plot, slow(ish) burn, angst, hurt/comfort, reader wears glasses, discussion of self-doubt and insecurity, cunnilingus, fingering, dumbification if you squint? (You’re just really relaxed), creampie, squirting, no use of y/n, they’re grossly in love idk what else to tell you honestly, but if I missed anything, let me know! Word count: 4.9k.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for ages, and I've been chipping away at it slowly, but after seeing @ghosts-cyphera 's husband!price drabble, I rose from the metaphorical dead, and here we are, so thank you, Alora, for being a fellow price enjoyer and just a gem, and I hope you all enjoy <3

Everything was just too much.

You’re stiff, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and you can feel a migraine forming between your eyes. It’s a little ridiculous, really. By all accounts, you should be more relaxed. The hard work was finished, your novel was complete, the accompanying art had been chosen, and all the finer details were squared away; now, all that was left was publishing, though that was the publisher’s headache, not yours. It was the waiting that always got to you.

No matter how many times you’d gone through the process, no matter how many works you published, the anticipation never failed to eat away at you. There is a special kind of stress that comes with releasing your art into the world, in having people get a glimpse into your mind. While it’s gratifying to share your hard work with the masses, once it leaves you, it’s no longer only your own, and others are free to interpret it as they please. It’s deeply personal and scary like you’re bearing your soul to the public, but what’s done is done. All the late nights spent writing were over, and now you’re alone with your thoughts again.

You’ve tried everything to keep yourself busy. Your office is far cleaner now than it was before your husband left, both of your laundry was done with all the garments being put in their rightful place, and there was a cake on the counter from your late-night baking excursion a few days ago.

All of your usual distractions failed you. Nothing has been able to loosen the knot coiling itself in your chest. It’s silly; this is not your first book. The first was well received, a fact you should be grateful for, and you are. However, its success set a precedent. What if this one wasn’t as good? What if it didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations? The more questions you considered, the more withdrawn you became, allowing your doubts to swallow you whole. And that’s how you ended up back where you started, staring blankly at an empty document. You (foolishly) believed that writing could help, thinking a fresh idea would clear your conscience, but nothing comes. So you sit, hoping for anything to inspire you, but all you hear is the voice in the back of your head taunting you.

For a fleeting moment, you consider seeking the comfort of your husband; however, you quickly decide against it.

Not at all because you didn’t think he could soothe you. If anything, he knows better than anyone else how to keep you grounded, but you’re painfully aware of how rare it is for John to get time off, and it would be unfair to take that much-needed relaxation away from him with your problems. Still, you yearn for the solace he provides you. It’s absurd to miss someone who’s a mere twenty feet away, someone you could easily see. But, you stubbornly resist the temptation to steal his time, even if you know he’d want you to. He was insistent that you could never bother him, but you still had your doubts.

Compared to everything he goes through, your insecurities are small and insignificant; you can handle this on your own, even though you feel your eyes beginning to dry the longer you stare at the bright white void in front of you. A long groan escapes you as you toss your glasses unceremoniously onto your desk (had they fallen? You couldn’t be bothered to check) before burying your head in your hands.

“You’ve got this,” You mutter to yourself. It’s hardly convincing. Did you actually have this? You’re not entirely sure, but it doesn’t hurt trying.

You’re unsure how long you wallowed before your husband appeared in the doorway. Despite being uncharacteristically patient given the circumstances, you knew it was only a matter of time before he’d come to you. Rarely would you hide away in your office while he was home; usually, you’d rushed into his arms to steal his warmth every opportunity you got, but he tried to be understanding. Having him back in the house was just as much of an adjustment for you as it was for him, and he wanted to be considerate of that. Though his comings and goings had slowed considerably over the span of your relationship, he knew they still weighed on you, and he also knew you’d sooner die than admit that, so he gave you space.

But after another hour passes, his patience wears thin. This was a while even for you, and he wanted to make sure you were alright. So, ever the diligent lover, he prepares you a peace offering, a perfectly brewed cup of your favorite tea, and heads to your door.

His suspicions that you weren’t as well off as you claimed are confirmed when he’s greeted with the back of your hunched-over form, papers strewn across your desk. It takes one glance at you for John to know the kind of evening you’re having despite your best efforts to hide it. The stress practically radiates off you, casting a thick layer of tension in the room. The last thing he wants is to startle you, so he watches, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence. But the longer he rests against the doorframe, the sooner he realizes you haven’t noticed him yet, another sign that something isn’t quite right.

You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were thinking. He can practically hear the voices in your head lying to you, slowly breaking you down, and he feels his heart clench. It’s times like this when he wishes your mind was kinder to you, that it afforded you the same kindness you so freely gave others. He also wished you would let him help you. Your independence has always been something he admired and was one of the first things he noticed that drew him to you. You were radiant, ethereal, having an air of confidence and grace about you that followed you wherever you went, practically lighting your path.

However, your independence made it difficult for you to depend on him. He told you no fewer than a million times, practically pleaded with you to let him shoulder your burdens, to tell you that no problem was too small to tell him about, and while you’d opened up over the years, he could see that your walls were up. Nevertheless, he would do everything he could to chip away at them, to take you out of your head for a while.

He walks over to you slowly, placing the mug down before lightly rubbing your shoulders. You know he’s there, immediately feeling comforted by his presence, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You don’t want him to see you like this, not while you look like a sad puppy, but he persists, taking your silence as an invitation to speak.

“Made you some tea, love,” he says softly, receiving only a muffled hum of acknowledgment. Undeterred, he keeps massaging your shoulders, applying a bit more pressure, a soft smile gracing his features when you lean into his touch. His movements are slow intentional, wanting to ease you into the feeling.

He doesn’t have to look at your face, which has since been laid flat on your desktop, to know your brows are furrowed, and he wants nothing more than to smooth away the creases with his fingers.

Instead, he turns your chair to face him, forcing you to pick your head up. He ignores the whine you let out upon realizing that he’s not going to let you bask in your sadness in peace, as well as the glare you give him as you put your glasses on. There’s no malice behind your gaze, and he can see you fighting back a smile, causing his grin to widen.

“Good morning, lovely.”

“It’s not morning, and I probably look like shit” You sigh.

You’re right; it wasn’t morning, but the latter was far from the truth. John loved you in all your forms, but this, you at home in your comfy clothes, was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, even if you were being a little grouchy. He doesn’t take it personally. No, he knows you’re frustration is with yourself, which only motivates him to relax you more.

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay; you both know you aren’t, so he settles with a more helpful question: asking what you need. It’s more a formality than anything because he already knows the answer. It’s clear you don’t want to talk because if you did, you would have by now. He’s no stranger to nights spent holding you, listening to you vent about everything troubling you as you lay your head on his chest, and while he welcomes your rambles, you’re too tangled up in your thoughts to get the words out.

No, you needed something else. You needed a break; you needed someone you trusted to take control for a while, and who was better suited for the task than him? You both knew he wouldn’t move until you asked him to because even when he’s in control, he’s still at your mercy.

You don’t answer him immediately, not that he expected you to. For all his gentle coaxing, the question was surprisingly direct, and it caught you off guard. You know what you want. You want to climb into bed, wrap yourself in blankets, and sleep, and no matter how much you try to deny it, you also want to melt into your husband’s touch while you do. But with how restless you are, that seems impossible. To do that, first, you would need to relax, something you’re notoriously bad at. John would be eager to assist, to soothe the storm that rages within you, but you also know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t help you if you didn’t ask. So, reluctantly, you confess you’re having trouble relaxing, that there are too many thoughts running through your head to turn your brain off. Once you start, it’s as if you’ve opened Pandora’s box and you just break. All the emotions you’ve tried to suppress come pouring out mostly incoherently. In your frenzy, you barely notice that John moved to kneel in front of you until you feel his hand cup your jaw.

He doesn’t get too close, not wanting to overwhelm you, because he knows how hard this is for you already.

You’re a lot like him in that way, birds of a feather, he supposes, as you both have difficulty opening up and trusting others. He’s forever humbled by the fact that you, wonderfully amazing you, chose him, and it’s not something he takes for granted. He values all of the time you spend together, even if you aren’t in the best of spirits. God knows he’s had his fair share of melancholic moments that you worked him through, and it is at that moment he is determined to do the same for you, to help you feel better.

“Shh, it’s alright, love, I have you. There’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll take care of everything, alright? I’ll give you what you need,” He reassures you in that low timbre you’ve missed so much. Your nod is rewarded with a light kiss on the cheek before he stands up, pulling you up from your chair with him.

You let out a yelp of surprise when he scoops you up and carries you towards your bedroom. His strength never fails to surprise you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it when he gently places you on the edge of your bed. For the second time tonight, he kneels before you, taking your hands in his while looking you in the eye.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” His question is met with a scoff.

“Of course I do. I don’t think there’s anyone in this world that loves me more.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not. Otherwise, we’d have a problem on our hands.” He chuckles, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “I want you to do something for me. You’re so smart, love, bloody brilliant. But right now, I don’t want you to think. I just want you to feel. Can you do that f’me, angel? Let me make you feel good.”

You nod as you did before, only this time, you’re met with a shake of his head.

“Need your words, sweetheart”

The “please” that escapes you is more breathless than you expected. He had hardly touched you, and you could already feel a bit dazed by the intensity of his stare. Your soft confirmation is met with a smile before he works you out of your sweats and guides you to lay flat on the bed. He takes his time to press kisses up your thigh, slowly making his way to your center, nipping every now and then, eliciting little gasps from you. And while you appreciate his desire to worship you, you were getting impatient. The sight of him so close to where you need him but not touching you was almost too much to bear.

Before you can protest, he takes pity on you, slips your panties down, and rewards your patience with a long lick up your slit paired with a chaste kiss to your clit.

Your moment of reprieve doesn’t last long before he absolutely devours you, laving at your folds without another care in the world. The strokes of his tongue are slow but firm, his mouth practically molded to your form, following you no matter how much you move and shake. He wants to get you used to the feeling, give you time to surrender yourself to him, and you’re starting to. He sees the way you grasp at the sheets, mindlessly looking for something, anything to anchor you, and he’s quick to provide.

You hadn’t realized how much you were squirming until he pulled back, one calloused hand stroking your inner thigh with the other lacing his fingers with yours while instructing you to relax, reminding you to be good for him, to take all that he’s giving you. You look angelic, eyes rolled back, your body flushed, a sheen of sweat forming, and every touch driving you closer to the edge. But he knows it’s not enough. Had you been calmer and less frazzled, you would have reached your peak already, but right now, you need a push to help you over the edge.

When he takes his hand off your thigh and lets his fingers join his tongue, your back bows. If not for his firm grip, you may have fallen off the bed, but there is no need to worry about that. John’s got you; he always does.

It’s overwhelming having him so wholly focused on you, feeling his deep, muffled groans against your center, and it’s clear he wasn’t faring much better.

He may be helping you destress, but you know your husband well enough to know he’s enjoying this as much as you are, if not more. John Price is not a selfish man, far from it. Many have speculated that his selflessness will be his downfall. But, at this moment, he can’t help but think about himself. Can’t help but think about how his cock is straining in his trousers, which are becoming almost distractingly tight, about how he wants nothing more than to pump you full of his cum. But he’s a patient man. He understands that he’ll get there eventually. No, for now, he’s more than happy to have you soaking his beard. What’s important at this moment is getting you to cum on his tongue, on his fingers, because he knows the wetter you are, the easier it’ll be to slip into you, leaving him to settle for grinding himself against the bed for relief, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

Despite your whines and pleas for him to speed up, for him to give you more, he knows better. He keeps the same pace, knowing the slow build, while seemingly tortuous, will make you cum that much harder, and that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you boneless, without a single thought that isn’t him and how good he’s making you feel. There was no need to rush, you had all night, and there’s no place he’d rather be than here, with his fingers stuffed in your gorgeous pussy while he laps at your folds.

The sounds you two are making are nothing short of obscene. Your keens and his moans filled the room. And god, you were so fucking wet you were practically leaking down his wrist, and when your moans start rising in pitch, he knows you’re close. All it takes are a few more strokes of fingers before you’re cumming, your body going rigid with a broken sob. John works you through it, lapping up your spend and rubbing barely there circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure while patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

When your trembling subsides, he carefully removes his fingers, using his now free hand to smooth over your thighs, murmuring praises about how well you did for him before standing, finally ridding himself of his clothes. You look so beautiful like this, spread out, panting, still glistening with your release. It just makes him want to ruin you, but always the gentleman, he checks in with you first.

“Still with me, love?” he teases, hands soothing at your sides, earning him a laugh, a genuine laugh. One that makes your eyes crinkle, and a chuckle of his own leaves him in response. It’s a good sign; it’s progress, but he knows you’re not entirely unwound yet. He knows you still have more left in you.

You pull him in for a kiss that he eagerly accepts. It’s tender, intimate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and John’s complete and utter reverence for you almost makes you shy. His love for you flows through him and pours into his touch when he deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but lean into it.

“I want more. I need to feel you,” you confess against his lips.

“How do you want me?” he murmurs, moving to trail kisses down your neck. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask,” and you know he means it. He’d bring you the moon and the stars if you wished.

“From behind, I don’t want to think about anything but how good you feel,” you said, pulling away to lay on your stomach before being stopped by John’s hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. Your momentary confusion quickly dissipates when you realize what he’s doing.

He’s taking off your glasses.

Admittedly, in your haze, you’d forgotten you still had them on, so used to the familiar weight, but it makes your heart swell as you watch him place them delicately on your bedside table. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s endearing, and it reminds you how lucky you are to have such an attentive, caring lover, and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss. John adores the lovestruck look you give him as you pull away, eyes bleary, pupils dilated. And though he could look at it all day, he reluctantly moves away, readjusting you so you’re face down on the bed before slotting himself between your legs.

A contented sigh leaves you as you settle into your plush bedding, feeling thankful you’d insisted on replacing those threadbare monstrosities your husband called “sheets” (he’d huffed and rolled his eyes at your dramatics– “they are not going to rip your skin off” –but deep down he loved them too) and close your eyes, sinking into John’s touch.

“Ready for me?” He questions, smoothing a hand up your spine, relishing in your shiver.

“Yes, need you to fuck me, John, please,” you breath, and who was he to deny you?

At your confirmation, he pushes in with a languid thrust, pulling you flush against him, giving you time to adjust. He can’t help but let out a low grumble at the view in front of him. He hasn’t even moved yet, and you’re already driving him insane. The feeling of being enveloped by you is indescribable. To be this close, to truly feel you, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and judging by the way you’re whimpering and trying to grind yourself back into him, he knows you feel the same.

He sets a steady pace, unhurried, leisurely, and revels in the quiet mewls you let out. The tension pulling your muscles taut dissipated with every thrust, and John couldn’t be happier because that’s what he wanted.

He wants to push all of those bad thoughts away. All he wants you to think about is him and how good he’s making you feel and to make you cum over and over until you’re spent.

“That feel good, love?” he whispers in your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

“Yes, f-fuck s’good,” you gasp out, followed by a broken “I love you” that he returns while quickening his pace, fucking you deeper. He can’t help it, really. Hearing the fondness in your voice makes him want to worship you more, causing him to aim for the spot that always makes you shake, and he knows he’s got it when he hears your high-pitched keen.

You’re begging now, desperate pleas of “Please don’t stop” and “right there,” and he doesn’t need to see your face to know that your eyes are scrunched closed, mouth agape, to know that you look stunning. He wishes he could see your face, to see you when you reach your peak that you’re edging closer and closer to, and he will, but after you cum again for him.

“That’s it, good girl, always takin’ me so well,” he praises. “Take what you need. I won’t stop, promise. Just want to make you feel so good don’t want you to think about anything but cumming. You close f’me, love? Yeah? That pretty little cunt gonna soak my cock?” he questions, lifting your hips to rub your aching clit, knowing all you need is a little pressure to send you over the edge.

Your words may be muffled, but your responding string of “yes” s are clear as day and only make him rut into you deeper. He needs you to fall over that edge again. Needs you to alleviate all that stress, and when you finally reach your peak with a muted sob of his name, he slows but doesn’t stop, watching in awe of the way you spasm around him, and waits for you to settle.

You’re more pliant now, a bit hazy with pleasure, but he’s not done with you yet. No, he needs you, his beautiful, distinguished wife, to fully surrender yourself to him and the pleasure he’s bringing you, even if only for a while. All those years ago, he vowed to protect you, even if it’s from yourself, and he plans to do just that. He knows you have one more in you, and he intends to wring it out of you.

A contented sigh escapes him as he pulls out before gently lifting you and laying you flat on your back once more. And when he sees your face, he’s reminded of just how breathtaking you are. Not that he ever forgot, but it’s a sight he never tires of. You’re one of the most precious beings he’s ever encountered, a goddess whom he’s eternally grateful has chosen to bless him with your presence, but now? Now, you’re glowing. He wishes he could immortalize the image in front of him, your eyes lidded, with a soft, blissed-out grin playing on your lips, but he’s brought back by the sound of your voice.

“You’re staring,” you tease, voice a little hoarse from use as you re-settle your glasses on your face.

“I could never get tired of looking at you, sweetheart,” he responds earnestly, unashamed that he had been caught because he truly could. There was just something about you that brought out such genuine affection in him. You give so much of yourself to others, and it makes him want to do everything in his power to pour the same love back into you. He can’t help but want to fulfill your every need. You deserve the world. Leaning into another kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t through words through his touch.

This is more passionate than the last, but he’s met with the same vigor from you. It’s easy to forget the task at hand, but your soft moans were enough of a reminder that he wasn’t finished with you yet.

Lowering you back onto the bed, he guides himself into you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest while your mouth falls agape. There’s less pretense this time. You’re more than ready for him to start moving and thank god for it because as patient as he is, he’s only human, and you’re both getting desperate.

And when he pushes your knees towards your chest, laying your legs over his shoulders, the sound you make is borderline pornographic, and it’s then he realizes you may actually be the death of him. Holding himself back is proving more difficult by the second, so he opts for placing kisses on your calves to ground himself. He moves his hands, one going to hold the fat of your thigh for leverage while the other goes to cup your jaw. Any other time, he’d coax you to look at him, applying just enough pressure to make you face him, but he can see how overwhelmed you are.

Peering down at you, gaze unwavering, he sees your eyes barely open, all cloudy and lust blown, and he can’t help but tease you just a little, not that you mind.

“That’s it, this what you needed?” he practically coos at you, voice low and saccharine and growing gruffer by the second. “I haven’t been taking proper care of my angel, have I? No, no, that won’t do. Gotta make up for lost time. Poor thing, havin’ no one to fuck you properly when I’m not around. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You try to answer, you really do, try to tell him you’ve missed him more and that no one makes you feel the way he does, but the words are like lead on your tongue, and your head is starting to feel fuzzy. The steady grind of his hips into yours and the feeling of being completely surrounded by him leaves you breathless, and all you can manage is a high-pitched sob that seems to satisfy him enough, and he keeps the pace.

“Gonna be good and give me one more? Of course, you’re my perfect girl, always so obedient.” Your responding gasp is immediately met with praise. In truth, at the moment, you’d do just about anything he asked, and you could feel the pressure building quicker, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Don’t look away, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes get all teary for me” he murmurs, words slightly slurred, and you distantly realize he’s not as unaffected as you thought. “Look so good like this, just need you to let go. Can you do that? Gonna be my sweet girl and cum for me. Let go for me, love.”

His gentle command, his firm grip, the pressure of him inside you paired with the almost feral glint in his eyes do you in, and before you know it, you’re back is arching, and you just gush for him with a soundless scream, soaking your lower halves. John isn’t far behind, and the relief of finally pumping you full is almost too much. You always get so tight when you cum, as if you don’t wanna let him go, so he indulges you, lowering your legs but not pulling out yet, instead opting to lay on top of you.

For a while, neither of you moves, trying to gain your bearings, filling the room with your soft pants.

Everything feels so serene, as if you two are the only people in the world. You exhale a contented sigh, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of John’s body weight atop you.

After some time, he pulls out, shushing your whine of protest with a quick kiss before pulling you into his chest. As you burrow yourself further into him, John wraps you up in his arms. You always get so clingy after, a fact you’re endlessly embarrassed by, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just another testament to how content, how safe you feel with him, and he cherishes the ability to give you the attention you crave.

Later, he’d clean you up, make you another cup of tea, seeing as the first was abandoned in your haste, get your favorite takeout, and set you up for a lazy night in, but for now, he holds you close. Warmth and exhaustion are seeping into your bones, and you peer up at John through your lashes and utter a quiet “thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love. I’ll always be here for you,” he reminds, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead before continuing, “Get some sleep”

And as you drift off, you can’t help the upturn of your lips. Your mind was quiet, and you finally got the sleep you craved.

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368 notes · View notes

nahoney22 · 7 months

Note

I know requests are closed... but who else could I tell those fantasies I have about Dogma?

He'd capturing my thought and I make it your problem, too. 😏

Just imagine the sweet man one night alone at the barracks in his bunk. And he’s like: 'Okay, maybe I should try for once what the others think is so great about that self-pleasure.'

He even just blushed at the thought about it. But then he locks himself in and undresses, takes some lube he finds in someone else's locker.

Then he lays down and... ohhh did that sheet always felt so good on his skin? At first he just tries carefully with his fingers. It’s not enough. He almosts gasps when he wraps his hand around himself...

That’s when he loses it! You've never seen someone looking so sweet and sexy when he lets go. Absolutely lost in that sensation. So much he's even humping his blanket.

He never slept so well in his entire life like after that evening. Maybe he should try something else too sometimes?!

Taking it Solo***

A Dogma One Shot

word count: 1.2k

After Dogma finds himself alone in the bunks, he takes some time to reflect. Maybe, he deserves some TLC.

warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, solo male masturbation, first time masturbation, this is dominantly a Dogma fic by itself but there is a very minor mention of someone/reader.

authors note: bestie you just know I LOVE me some Dogma smut. He deserves some.. alone time. Enjoy! 🤍

The nights seemed longer than ever, burdened by the unrelenting war. Every Clone carried the weight of uncertainty about the coming day, but none felt it as keenly as Dogma.

Known for his unwavering obedience, which had earned him his name from among his brothers, he walked alone to the barracks one evening, a departure from his usual routine.

He couldn't understand why he had lied to General Skywalker about feigning illness, or why the General had accepted it after he stuttered his way through it. Regardless, Skywalker had told him to rest, and rest he would.

That, at least, was his plan.

As the barracks door hissed open, Dogma was greeted by a dimly lit room, rows of bunk beds immaculately kept. He had never felt so alone, and strangely, he welcomed it.

Walking to his bunk, the door sealing shut behind him, he sat on the edge and released a heavy sigh. A nagging guilt gnawed at him for evading today's mission with a lie. But, it was too late to sprint back to the hangar and ask Skywalker if he could join the mission now. Instead, he lay back and fixated on the empty bunk above him.

His thoughts meandered, with no particular focus, as his fingers absently traced the sheet beneath him. Then, a new and unfamiliar thought invaded his mind. His mouth grew dry, a sudden desire ignited within him, leaving him bewildered and slightly flustered. He cast a cautious glance around the room, once again finding solace in its emptiness, yet his heart began to race unevenly. Where was this leading him?

He stilled his hands and steadied his breathing, but the thoughts persisted.

During the times when Tup and Fives dragged him to 79's (literally), he found himself subjected to stories about their intimate life. Though Fives’ stories seemed more far-fetched rather than they were believable. It didn't exactly bother him, but it never piqued his interest. Plus, he was always wary of breaking the rules. Yet, deep down - way deep down - a part of him couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be with someone, to experience some kind of physical connection in that way.

His grip on the sheets tightened once more, and his eyes closed as he pondered. Have the sheets always felt this soft? Had the constant specter of war effectively numbed him to every emotion he should have been experiencing?

He had enough. Enough of wondering. He gets up and quickly marches towards Fives’ locker and somewhat unsurprisingly, it’s unlocked. He knew he had some in here after bragging about it and grabs a bottle of lube. He pauses, stares at the tube and second guesses but the nagging feeling of wanting to explore something new was too powerful to ignore.

He crawls back into his bunks and checks the coast was clear once more before sliding his pants down, just past his knees. To his surprise, he was already half-hard under his underwear.

Dogma savours the moment. Savouring the idea of being alone with just his thoughts and without immediate responsibilities that puts his life at risk.

Gently, his left hand came up to caress his chest, pondering what it’d be like to feel someone’s hand touch him where his heart lied. Then, he began running his fingertips slowly over the ridges of hard muscle. He’d never been the most muscular of the 501st, but he’d always been slightly toned.

As his fingers stroked from his sternum down towards the waistband of his underwear, a countering shiver ran upwards from the base of Dogma’s spine, making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up, and a soft sigh to escape his mouth.

Almost apprehensively his fingers stroked under the waistband of his pants and through to his pubic hair until he reached the base of his member.

Wrapping his index finger around to the underside, his thumb pressing on top, Dogma then began to gently stroke just his two fingers from the base to just below the head of his cock. He let out a soft sigh, the warm feeling of his hand against his flesh was…pleasant, relaxing.

He continued the motions for a while, lazy strokes up and down, occasionally swiping his thumb over the slit until he was hard enough.

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Dogma turns to the bottle of lube to feel something different.

As he puts a squirt of lube into the palm of his hand, the warm and slippery substance creates a puddle. With languid motions, he begins to stroke his cock. Slow and tenderly.

“Fuck,” he rasps almost silently. His neck cranes back, the sheets moving underneath him. The slick feeling of his cock between his hand made him almost melt in absolute bliss that he was missing all of this for so long.

His mind riled with different thoughts, imagining how it would feel to have someone sit between his legs and tend to his cock as tenderly as he was, wondering what it would be like for someone to cup his balls and praise him.

He wanted praise. He needed praise.

“S’good,” he mutters to himself, licking his lower lip as his hand dived further down his cock until he managed to caress his balls, rolling them slowly in the palm of his warm and slicked up hand before moving back to focus on stroking.

His eyes open slowly, eyelids heavy as his toes curl in delight at the sensation of getting pleasured, his breathing heavy, needy.

Words strangled in his throat, the pleasure burning through his veins that his eyes rolled into his head and shut again.

His grip on his cock sped up, the lewd sound of him pumping taking over the room, mixing with his short, soft grunts.

He went back to picturing what it’d be like to be beside someone, to have someone to hold and someone to fuck. Hard. Soft. But as he did, his mind went back to 79’s and that one person who gave him a second glance. Just that once. Those eyes, that laugh, that smile that now burned into his brain. How would they feel, nude and pressed against him as he rocked his hips against them? Would their skin feel as soft as the sheets that soon started to stick to his body?

“I wish you were here,”

He could feel his orgasm start to slowly build within him, his previously measured strokes becoming unsteady and harsh as Dogma moans into the chilly air of the barracks.

Fingers gripped tightly just below the head of his cock, he roughly worked the top of his length. Moaning loudly, imagining vividly, he hauled himself up so he was kneeling on the bunk.

His head dropped forward to his chest, and beads of sweat rolled down his neck as his climax built, throbbing against.

One, “oh f-fuck, yes!”

Two, “please… please…”

Three more firm strokes of his length and he was there, his cum falling over his messy bed sheets.

He stutters, body twitching at his climax before he collapses down onto his bunk with a thud. He laid there for a few minutes, panting and thinking about what he did. He knows he should get up and clean himself but for now, just for one minute, he felt calm. He felt content.

Masterlist

tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog g @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad

#dogma #arc trooper dogma #clone wars #clone wars smut #clone trooper smut #star wars #nahoney22 writes #dogma x reader

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firestorm09890 · 6 months

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just some rambling about lcb’s canto v part 3 things vs the source book

It felt like they combined the personalities of Starbuck and Stubb, and then they replaced Stubb’s personality entirely with Flask’s (the third mate), who was always the one described as irritable while Stubb was the jovial one.

Book Stubb was also pretty uncool, despite being so casual. Pip had to be the replacement oarsman in both cases, but the reason Pip’s sanity snapped in the book was because he jumped overboard out of fear once, Stubb told him they’d just leave him behind if he did it again, and then when it happened again, Stubb did leave Pip behind, and those few hours out at sea before the Pequod rescued him were what broke him; here, Stubb saved Pip from a fate worse than death, and then what happened to Stubb after is what broke Pip.

Speaking of Pip, weird choice to make them want to be a landlord. That’sss all I’ll say about that

Also, RIP Tashtego. Constantly got the short end of the harpoon in Moby Dick (basically first to slay a whale on the voyage but Stubb got all the credit, fell into a whale and almost died, saw the White Whale at the same time as Ahab and should’ve been awarded the gold doubloon for it but Ahab insisted he was first) and the trend continues here by giving his incredibly homoerotic moment of being saved from drowning in the whale by Queequeg to Ishmael instead, with him just not showing up at all… actually maybe Tashtego won in this case lol

The flashback with Ishmael going into Ahab’s cabin made me think that they would give her the dilemma of “should I kill her right now in her sleep”, similar to what Starbuck had in the book, but nope.

There’s a huge difference in the way Starbuck butted heads with Ahab in the book vs in Limbus. Book Starbuck definitely had a lot less faith that the captain was steering them right- forget “after we kill the Pallid Whale it’ll all be okay” that Limbus Starbuck thought, no, book Starbuck repeatedly told Ahab to please, turn around, please stop trying to go kill the White Whale, your revenge quest is meaningless because it’s basically just a force of nature and you can’t get revenge on nature, we can just go home, we've had bad omen after bad omen, don’t you see you’re leading us to doom- and he did this from the very beginning all the way til the very end, when they literally saw the beast. However, despite his pleas and disagreements, he did still follow the authority of the captain (can’t have a mutiny when it’s just you who disagrees; can’t shoot a man while he’s sleeping when you have too much of a conscience and a fear of going to hell to justify becoming a murderer) and inevitably helped Ahab get what he wanted. That’s something both Starbucks share.

Overall… it’s probably because they had a different story to tell. They had to make Ahab worse™️ than in the book so everyone surrounding her had to be changed to facilitate the fact that she had such a hold over all of them

The thing with Ahab promising gold coins to the crew (with it being clear to the audience that they’d never get them) was the progression of the book’s singular gold doubloon, which was promised to whomever saw the White Whale first. In the book, it was merely a symbol, with a bunch of different characters attempting to analyze its symbolic meaning in-universe (mostly in an astrological sense) and not really wanting it for monetary reasons (Flask even says that it’s just worth $16 and could buy 960 cigars. of course, that was in 1851, and inflation is one hell of a problem…) Here, that promised money is worth a lot more, both monetarily and as something to keep the crew going.

And then! The cult-like aspects. Kromer had her inquisitors with artificial brainwashing and it’s very stereotypically cult-like, but Ahab’s crew was a lot more accurate to how real-modern-day cults work. The recruitment of Ishmael made that clear. Here, she was at a low point in life, with no idea where she should go, and then boom, Ahab steering her. In Moby Dick Ishmael already wanted to go on a boat, as did every other sailor there. None of them even knew who their captain was until after they’d been out at sea for weeks because Ahab is weird like that. He got all his sailors into a disturbingly powerful fervor one night about the White Whale but for the most part they seemed to be mostly in it for the whales they encountered along the way. Book Ahab even recognized that in order to keep his crew from mutinying, they had to pick up some other whales- and unlike the gold coins keeping the crew motivated in Pequod Town in Limbus, this was an actual, tangible thing. More of a compromise to keep the crew happy than a lie.

Limbus Ahab’s boat was completely Ahab, with desires completely Ahab, completely enrapturing her crew. Book Ahab’s boat was The Pequod, a whaling ship that just so happened to have a monomaniac at the helm. Limbus’s Pequod crew had faith in Ahab until they died by her hands; book Pequod crew eventually recognized how completely fucked up Ahab was and how screwed they were, but to quote the book itself, “their fear of Ahab was greater than their fear of Fate.”

that’s about all the braincells I have for this

#limbus company #canto v spoilers #project moon #moby dick #not touching on queequeg bc someone else already did much better than I ever could #hmmmm #cults tw #me post #this isn't to say i disliked the chapter btw #it was very good and i cried multiple times #i just love comparing and contrasting #oughhh i just noticed some typos and things i’d reword #oh well

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piratekane · 5 months

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i got an ask in my email that never showed up in my inbox that was basically looking for book recs and since only one person asked for my opinion and because this was the year i fell back in love with reading, i'm going to do a myspace Top 8 books i loved this year, in no particular order:

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein this is basically a love story. it's a love story and you won't change my mind. i don't mean romantic love except that i mean best friends loving each other to and through the end of the world can be romantic and we should say that more often. because this a book about war and its terrors but it's also the love story between two best friends and what they'll do to get back to each other. it has probably one of my favorite protagonists ever - actually, two of my favorites. Wein tells a devastatingly perfect story and i promise your heart will swell and sink and tie itself into tiny knots. kiss me, hardy! kiss me quick! 5 stars, i cried at the end

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo i was late to the SoC books and boy am i glad i finally showed up to the party. this book was perfection. i immediately fell in love with each crow and spent the whole book screaming that if nina and matthias didn't kiss ASAP that i was going to throw something. i also was yelling about kaz and inez, do not think i was not doing that. kex brekker you deserve love you street rat. @dealanexmachina had to deal with the screaming through this. and i think it's going to be a repeat read in 2024 just so i can experience the care and craftsmanship that went into each character, their nuances, and how it wove perfectly together into kaz's brilliant plan. 5 stars, i immediately read the sequel like a hungry jaugar hunting down a person wearing that calvin klein scent

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson brando sando is... prolific. and it was overwhelming to jump in, but i started with tress and not any of his other books (a problem i have rectified) and what a bang it was. this book is, in a word, hilarious. the narrator is a fantastical being with an aversion to linear thought and a predilection for hilarity. the humor in this book is unlike any of sandos other work and really shows that he has the ability to stretch. the premise is very clever and very cool and just very fun. tress is brave and smart and that's celebrated, not punished. plus who doesn't love a talking rat? i'm looking forward to his other secret projects 4.5 stars, the narrator is my favorite sando character

Hidden Pictures by Jason Rekulak okay, this is billed as horror, but i wouldn't really say horror and would lean more into the mystery billing than anything. maybe thriller. and it's outside my usual genre and is definitely more suited to my wife's tastes but she finished this book in three days (and usually takes 3 weeks-to-months to finish books) and when she said i had to read it, i said yes dear and picked it up. i'm glad i did. it's an illustrated mystery and as the author writes in the notes, those who pay attention will be rewarded. the ending was a twist i didn't see coming, like, at all. and it was clever. but once the ending started to unfold it was a mad dash to the finish. 5 stars, my wife recommends this

The Nevernight Chronicles by Jay Kristoff now, i know. this is actually 3 books, not 1. but hear me out - they must all be read. it's nonnegotiable. these books were recommended by tumblr user @fiddleabout and am i so very glad they were. mia is unhinged. there's no other way to put that. the girl is fucking off. her. rocker. and no one in her life is any better. they're all just as freaking crazy. but they're my crazy comfort killers. i went on for hours about mia and ash, to the point that my wife shut the bathroom door in my face because i tried to follow her in there talking about them. this series is bloody and more than once i was like, he can't possibly make this any bloodier but he CAN and i think this book is better for it. found family, check. unhinged teenage protagonist, double check. endless fun, check in triplicate. 4.5 stars, i am never not thinking of ash and her vision of a house on a lake and softness

A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon obviously i read priory first and obviously i loved it but ADoFN was... mind-blowing. maybe because priory enriched the world of ADoFN and i was already familiar with all the intricacies of it (though there was certainly more to learn) but reading this just... the bridging Shannon did, the connections she made between priory and ADoFN and how we ultimately saw the way ADoFN threaded some of the loops we saw closing in priory, it blew my mind. the utter romance of it all, my god. i read this monster book in a single day, i couldn't put it down. i emerged from my ADoFN cocoon like andy samberg in that one SNL skit where he plays a teenager who just woke up. i was changed(TM) 5 stars, i was a changed man

Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo i immediately jumped into the rest of the Leigh's work (i went through SaB first but she's so strong at the end of this Grishaverse) and while i love all my SoC babes, nina was a favorite and honestly i'd recommend both King of Scars and this book. tumblr user fiddleabout was blessed to follow along with my completely unhinged livestream of this book and when (spoiler) zoya and nikolai finally got over themselves and K I S S E D, i put the book down and took a lap. then i picked it up and screamed again as nina's arc unfolded. 5 stars, i have a lot of thoughts about the kind of man nikolai is (peg)

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by S.A. Chakraborty i'm a bit of a sucker for a pirate book. even more of a sucker about a woman pirate, and amina is a woman pirate of the highest caliber. this book is either intentionally funny or unintentionally hilarious. amina's biggest flaw is that she's constantly ogling her demon ex-husband's cute butt - honest to god. otherwise, she's perfection. badass, scrappy, jacked. amina is all of those things and then some. so she has a bit of a past that winds up coming back to bite her in the ass and then she's thrust back onto a ship where she has to chase down an old crewmate's daughter - can you blame a girl for being the most kickass pirate in all of the seas? no! should you? absolutely not! just let amina live out her life ogling ass and sailing leisurely, please. 4.5 stars, i want to sail on amina's ship even though i'm afraid of boats. and the ocean. and things living in the ocean. and generally the water.

( ͡❛ ᴗ ͡❛)👍 and now you know, cause it's mike's pirate's super short show! ( ͡❛ ᴗ ͡❛)👍

#i am not a book reviewer by trade and i think this proves that BUT i loved reading this year and i loved these books and most of them #were recommended so i hope if something catches your eye and you read it and you love it you remember that people are #always looking for something to read and you might know the story that could knock their socks off #very grateful for friends who tell you their favorite books #it's like sharing a piece of yourself and it is an honor #i hope you read in 2024 and i hope its something you want to share with other people #merry 2024 ya filthy animals from me to you #(tell me if you read any of these and like them pls)#also if you get the reference at the end i personally apologize but that is part of my daily lexicon byeeee

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elena-mayfair · 2 years

Text

Curious people

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, themes of depression Summary: "Batman…what a ridiculous nickname," you smiled in disbelief, "he's either a complete idiot or a hopeless idealist," and yet you knew perfectly well that naivety and idealism went hand in hand all too often. Word count: 6.3k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors. Chapter one: Bright future, dark city

"How was your week?" Professor Crane pressed the record button and waited, waited for you to speak.

"Fine," you replied passively as you looked around his office. During your previous visit, you were too stressed to notice your surroundings. But now, the gray walls and black furniture seemed much more interesting than your thoughts and feelings. The office was simple and modest. On the wall hung a handful of diplomas, and in the corner of the room stood a coffee maker which was never offered to you. It looked like all the psychiatrists' offices you've seen in movies. A soft sofa provided comfort, and a box of tissues that stood on a small table informed you that it was okay to cry here. You were certain that in here people had probably cried more than once. You, however, never cried, not in public at least. Tears were something useless to you, something unwanted, you preferred to swallow them quickly and stifle them. Subconsciously you knew that if you allowed yourself to cry you would most likely never stop.

"We can sit like this in silence if you want," the professor's voice sounded in a low half-whisper pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Seriously! We can sit in silence for an hour and not talk about anything!" the cynical smile returned to its place but Professor Crane remained unfazed. His green eyes seemed to pierce right through you looking through any mask you tried to assume.

"If that's what you need," he replied calmly.

"Is that how it's going to work? I'll talk or not and you'll answer in half-words?" frustration crept into the tone of your voice.

"This hour we have is for you, of the two of us mainly you do the talking, I do the listening," he replied.

"Ridiculous," you sighed.

"How does it make you feel?"

"I'm pissed! If it's not obvious!"

"Why is that?" the professor remained composed and unmoved only your blood pressure spiked with each of his steady questions, "I would like us to start building a relationship together aimed at helping you with the problems you came to me with. Yet I get the feeling that you are looking at me as an enemy. Why?"

"Because…." you clenched your teeth trying to control your temper, "because the whole situation is terribly artificial and uncomfortable," you answered but seeing the professor's unaffected face you continued, "I understand that it is imposed by the rules of therapy and by the situation I entered into of my own free will but it doesn't change the fact that it is strange and unnatural! " you explained.

"And how should it look in your opinion," came another dry question.

"In a normal world, people meet and start some kind of conversation, about trivial things! About the weather, about Twitter gossip, about architecture, about politics, about the economy, that's how you start and then you can move on to developing some kind of relation. And if people feel comfortable in each other's company the relationship deepens, becomes meaningful, and then we start talking about more intimate things, that's when trust sets in," you replied, "in the normal world no one starts with Hey my name is Y/N, everyone I loved died, how you doing?"

"I understand but as you yourself pointed out we're not in a normal situation," he calmly pointed out, "so what are you afraid of? You came here to talk about what ails you and yet, now that you're here, you're scared to talk about it."

"Why do you assume that I'm afraid of something?" the gaze of Professor Crane did not leave you, he only smiled faintly and asked.

"Tell me how many friends you have?" the question surprised you, "How many deep, meaningful relationships do you have in your life?"

You didn't want to answer, you didn't want to say out loud how lonely you felt. It wasn't because you had chosen such a life, it just sort of happened. The professor's stare, however, was unwavering, waiting, calmly waiting, while his green eyes shined with curiosity.

"Not many," you replied quietly, "In fact, I don't know if I can call anyone a friend at the moment. I had one friend, she was like a sister to me. Harleen, she was a psychiatrist like you. A few years ago she moved here to Gotham and we lost contact. She doesn't even know that I moved here."

"Why won't you talk to her?" the Professor asked.

"And why should I?" you answered with a question to a question, "It's been years since we last saw each other, we lost contact, each of us moved on a different path, life happened. I'm sure we're both completely different people now."

"How many meaningful deep relationships do you have in your life?" professor repeated the question as if ignoring you.

You didn't answer immediately. That familiar feeling returned, the same one you felt in the company of Lex Luthor, the gnawing feeling which was telling you that you should not be here. The couch suddenly became somewhat uncomfortable, the air seemed to become thick and sticky, the cuticles around your fingernails begged for mercy while your eyes wandered toward the door over and over again. You wanted to run away.

"I suppose I should say it… basically, that's the whole purpose of therapy," you began, "but the whole time as we are talking I keep thinking about quitting, walking out, slamming the door, and never coming back."

"Don't you think it's caused by fear?" the green eyes shone.

"I think I found myself in an uncomfortable situation and a person's natural defensive mechanism is to try to escape," you didn't allow yourself to entertain the concept of fear, "but to answer your question, there are none. There are no meaningful relationships in my life," the professor drew breath but you did not allow him to speak, "hold on for a sec! It's not like I chose to be alone! It's just that, as I said earlier, life happened! I had to focus on more important things, my family was my priority! Family, work, I had no time to socialize! And it's quite normal that relationships fall apart if we don't dedicate them time and attention!"

"And you don't think you might have a problem building these kinds of relationships?"

"I don't have a problem with building relationships!" anger began to boil inside you, "I just approach them carefully! I don't trust people! I like people a lot but I don't trust them very much. And it's not like it came out of nowhere either! People, the closest to me, have let me down not once nor twice. Right, when I needed them the most they were nowhere to be found! It turned out that you can get more support and care from strangers! Trust comes with time, a deep relationship takes time, and people don't want to invest that time. Perhaps I also don't want to invest time in a relationship that could fucking disappear at any moment! I'd rather enjoy a random conversation with a stranger," the warmth of the memory softened your temper, "that fleeting magical moment that, even though I know it will never happen again, will stay in my memory forever."

The professor smiled and stopped the recording. The hour passed in a flash, leaving you with agitated nerves and a desperate need for a cigarette. You began to regret quitting smoking years ago.

"I'd like you to think about what we have talked about today," the professor said as you were getting ready to leave, "to think about the underlying reason for your hesitance towards people."

"I will," you smiled politely, shook his hand, and wished him a good day, promising to show up next week.

At that moment, you intended to keep your promise.

***

As for the days in Gotham, they passed mercilessly without allowing you a single moment to stop and think. After all, the weekend was over in the blink of an eye, and Monday came, marking the start of the work week and a possible meeting with the company CEO. "Just to sneak unnoticed to my office," you thought as you entered the building. Head lowered down, eyes fixed on the floor, you wanted so badly to become invisible. "Why can't I hold my tongue," you were angry with yourself, "I insulted him right to his face," you thought as you passed the security guard and forced yourself to smile. Your heart leaped to your throat every time you heard footsteps on the shiny marble floors, "it's a giant building, there's no way I'm going to meet him," you tried to calm down as you entered the elevator but your imagination was spinning a million possible scenarios. "Fuck, what if he gets in the elevator?" you thought, "Mr. Wayne? Bruce? How will I ever look him in the eye!" you panicked every time the elevator stopped at one of the floors. You were exchanging polite good mornings and have a nice day, but your thoughts were completely elsewhere. They couldn't stop pondering what if. "What if he comes here?" popped into your head as you finally waited in the comfort of your office space for the coffee maker to pour a drink, "why would he come here? He's the damn CEO!" you tried to rationalize as you sat down in front of your computer and tried to focus on your work, "the CEO who said himself that he often looks into TechDev," another thought raised your panic level. "Why the hell am I panicking like this! Not everyone in the world knows who he is! I had the right to make a mistake! How could I know!" you tried to justify yourself, "if he was going to fire me, he would have done it by now!" And yet with every beep of the electronic lock, with every opening of the door to your department, your heart froze for a split second. You wanted to focus on the new experience, you wanted to enjoy every new moment, every second of your first day at your new job but you couldn't. "Well, he invited me for a walk after I insulted him," you realized, "why?"

On the first day, nothing happened. You were relieved to leave the building, glad that it wasn't as bad as you had imagined.

On the second day, you tried to build up your confidence from the very morning. "Even if I meet him, I smile, say hello, wish him a good day! Full professionalism!" you planned as you observed the gray, gloomy weather outside the window. This confidence did not last too long because as soon as you approached the building you began to paranoidly look around in search of the black Rolls Royce. "Don't be an idiot!" you scolded yourself, "he's a freaking billionaire! Surely he has more than one car!"

On that day, however, you greeted the security guard with a polite smile and bright good morning. On that day, instead of staring at the floor, you decided to focus your eyes on the classic architecture and decor around you. That day your heart froze for a second only a few times in the elevator and then in the office. "If this keeps up, I'll finally have a heart attack!!!"

To concentrate on work, that was the key. "I'm here to work and not overthink my fuckups!" you decided just in time as like a blessing your first project from the head of the department appeared. Lucius Fox, the head of WayneTech and a member of the board of directors to your knowledge, turned out to be a man in his fifties with a kind apparition and a warm demeanor. And yet he spread around him a gentle dominance which, in your eyes, he must have built up through years of hard work and invaluable contributions to the company.

"How are you finding yourself in the new reality?" he asked, shaking your hand gently but firmly.

"I found a coffee maker so I feel at home!" you smiled brightly which prompted a short burst of laughter.

"Good, good! The most important thing is to know your priorities!"

"It's impossible to work without coffee!" you smiled innocently and he just pulled the other chair to your desk and sat down comfortably. He placed a thick folder of papers beside him.

"You've got everything?" he asked, inviting you with a gesture to sit down as well.

"The chair is comfortable, the ergonomics are like out of a health and safety manual, and the computer works like a dream," you listed, "the only thing I'm missing is work!"

"You're eager to start huh?" he smiled from under his graying mustache.

"I'm getting a little bored," you clarified, "I've done all the initial training, health and safety, fire awareness training, ethics, security. I know it's the inherent charm of any new job, but I joined Wayne Enterprises hoping for new challenges and opportunities for growth, and I can't wait for my first project!" as you spoke the company's name, your mischievous mind summoned those blue eyes and warm smile, but you kept a poker face.

"I'm not surprised, for people like you boredom is the worse thing that can happen," he smiled again and reached for the folder, "I've read your resume. I saw your concepts, your ideas and projects, and I personally chose you for this position."

"Thank you very much!" a blush spread over your face, you were not good at accepting compliments, "I really appreciate the opportunity and trust in my ability. I won't disappoint."

"I know," he replied briefly and handed you a folder, "these are several drafts and projects that existed some time in the past but for various reasons were never realized. Most of them are in the initial concept stage," he explained, "choose which one suits you best and treat it as your own."

"I can choose whichever one I want?" you asked surprised, flipping through the pages.

"Whichever one you want," he confirmed, "sooner or later you will come to work on most of them. As you've probably noticed this is not a large department," that was true, except for you and Fox you saw only a few people, "I'll expect weekly reports from you."

"Of course, Mr. Fox," you replied, not taking your eyes off the countless possibilities you held in your hands, "now only the question remains, how do I decide?"

"Unfortunately, with this, I cannot help you," he smiled warmly and said goodbye leaving you alone with your thoughts.

By the end of the second day, you stopped thinking about Bruce Wayne.

The third day began with fantastic humor and enthusiasm for work. The autumn sun greeted you with a cool pale golden glow reflected in the surface of the Gotham Bay water outside your living room window. It took barely more than a month of living in Gotham for you to appreciate rare sunny days like this one. With a smile on your face, you decided to make the most of it. "Maybe I should get in touch with Harleen as Professor Crane advised," you thought as you made your way strolling down Grand Avenue, "I got nothing to lose."

In your mind, you were planning a busy, productive and creative day. You planned to brew a delicious-smelling cup of coffee and tackle one of the two projects that caught your interest the most. You planned a walk to the park on your lunch break, or perhaps take a slightly longer trip to the bay for a bit of autumn sun. With your independent position as an engineer, you didn't have to worry about breaks or strict working hours. You didn't have to punch in your clock at the same time every day and leave the office after nine hours. The monitoring systems recorded your every entry and exit anyway, you didn't even have to report it. You started at whatever time you wanted, in the morning, in the afternoon, you could work in the evening as well as even at night, and the latter suited you best. You always felt more productive at night, you preferred to sleep until noon. You have always been called a night owl. This week, however, you decided to work mornings, you wanted to get to know the company better, you hoped that the morning hours would allow you to get to know your co-workers better. But you quickly realized that for such a thriving branch of the company, WayneTech had very few employees. They were mostly middle-aged people who had probably worked at the company since their youth. Compared to the rest of the company, WayneTech seemed frozen in time. An asylum of great creative minds and, and as you assumed, the most trusted ones. Usually, they were hidden behind their computer screens, behind countless stacks of blueprints, behind bound folders of documents. On that day, however, upon entering the department, you were surprised to see two of them immersed in a hushed intense discussion. Luke Fox, the boss's son, and Claire Russell, the only WayTech employees who, in your estimation, had to be of a similar age to yours.

"Hey guys!" you greeted them in an attempt to get their attention.

"Hey Y/N!" they replied simultaneously and returned to the conversation.

You didn't want to insert yourself between them, you were new and well aware that participation in hushed conversations had to be earned. As usual, you made yourself a cup of coffee and sat down at your computer. You had planned to get to work right away, and yet, that strange feeling so familiar to you returned along with sudden chills on your skin. You opened a browser and typed in the Gotham Gazette website address. You've never done this before, you never read the news, preferring to keep your mind calm and undistracted unnecessarily by things over which you had no control anyway. And yet, a strange hunch, a quiet voice somewhere in the back of your head whispered to investigate, and it was right. On the front page in giant letters, the headline read: JOKER STRIKES AGAIN! BATMAN STOPS THE MANIACAL CLOWN ONCE MORE. You quickly clicked on the article and delved deeper into the content.

On the night of November 22/23, the Joker once again attacked the residents of Gotham. The attack occurred around 10 pm in the Port Adams area. According to witnesses' statements, the terrorist clown's target was supposed to be the shipment of unmarked chemicals delivered the previous night to the port. Police quickly arrived on the scene and, according to a statement from Commissioner James Gordon, no one was hurt in the shooting. The safety of residents and security services was once again ensured by the lone vigilante who restrained the clown after a brief fight. Reporter Jack Ryder, who was on the scene, captured the fight between Gotham's mysterious protector and the Joker's gang.

The photos in the article brought cold chills to your spine. Police cars, an intense shootout between police officers and people with faces painted in white as if they were clown masks, and between them a black figure descending from the sky like a giant bat, as if it wanted to stand between them.

At the moment, it is unclear whether the Joker planned to steal or destroy the unknown toxins. It's also unknown where the toxins were delivered from and whether Gotham residents should fear another wave of attacks from the hands of the Joker. As of now, all the chemicals have been secured and the Joker has been transported to Arkham Asylum.

You could not take your eyes off the dark, masked figure. Against the blackness of the night, even in the perfect photo, the reporter captured only an indistinct shadow. The headlines of the linked articles read: WHO IS BATMAN? VIGILANTE OUTLAW OR HERO? MASS MIGRATION OF CITIZENS TO CENTRAL CITY AND METROPOLIS. GOTHAM CRIMINALS, GANGS, SUPERVILLAINS - HOW TO PROTECT YOURSELF?

"Hey, guys!" you called out in the direction of Luke and Claire, "Is this kind of news normal in Gotham?" you asked without taking your eyes off the computer.

Before you had a chance to read the next article they both pulled their chairs over next to you and looked at your computer screen.

"Pretty normal day in Gotham," Luke commented and Claire just nodded, "it may not be every day, but at least once a month a similar headline appears in the press."

"Really, after some time you stop noticing them unless Batman appears in the headline or in the pictures," Claire continued, "it's always newsworthy."

"Ryder or Vale have a keen eye for photos," Luke interjected.

"And a good instinct for being in the right place at the right time," Claire finished for him.

"Sometimes they manage to catch a close-up on Batman but that's a rarity, to be honest…"

"Hold on, hold on," you swept your eyes over their faces trying to keep up, "Who the hell is Batman?"

They both smiled broadly as if your question was the funniest and most delightfully ignorant thing they had heard in a long time.

"Nobody knows," Luke replied, "he appeared presumably seven, maybe eight years ago. No one knows where he came from or who he is."

"People thought for a long time that he was made up," Claire continued as a blush of excitement appeared on her face, "they thought he was an urban legend made up to scare Gotham's criminal underworld."

"But then pictures started appearing in the press…."

"People whom Batman saved started giving interviews…"

"The police stopped denying his existence…."

"It is said that he even began to work with them. They installed a big spotlight on the roof of the GCPD, everyone calls it a Bat-signal. People say that he is the only one who can enter Arkham Asylum without special permissions…"

"Batman can enter anywhere!" Claire chuckled with excitement, "Nothing or no one can stop him! He protects us all!"

"Fangirl," Luke teased, "but the fact is, I don't think anything can stop him. I don't think he's human at all."

"And who would he be! An alien!?" on her face you could clearly see how fascinated she was by the mysterious vigilante, "Batman is a hero! He protects us! He protects the city!"

"You want to tell me," you finally interjected, "that I moved to a city where a guy dressed as a big bat, possibly an alien, fights psychopathic clowns and that's totally normal?" you asked rhetorically and they just smiled with amusement, "I really should read more news…."

"Don't worry…." Clair tried to sound comforting, "This is a big city. You have little chance of ever finding yourself in the middle of a fight between Batman and Gotham's psychos."

***

The night began to spread in the enveloping darkness over Gotham as you sipped warm coffee and pondered your life choices, staring at the sea of light like an endless constellation of stars. You couldn't help but think that Bruce was right, the view from the observation deck was truly unforgettable. The huge city stretched before your eyes with a million paths and roads, the glow of countless lights, the vastness of endless possibilities. A city that seemed to never sleep, a city that even under the cover of a cold autumn night seemed to pulsate with a quiet steady life. A city that housed crime greater than any other, violence more brutal than you could have imagined, the pain and suffering of tormented frightened people. But there was something else within it. In the shadows of darkness and despair, there was a beauty that no one could kill, a beauty that you saw every day. In the dark alleys, in the dark corners, quiet faith in a better tomorrow hid, an inextinguishable hope that was signified by a symbol lit up in the night sky time after time. At least, that's what the people of Gotham said. That's what you read from Luke and Claire's hushed voices, from the endless articles the rabbit hole of which you had fallen into for hours.

"Monsters in the sewers, maniacal clowns, deadly riddles," you kept recapping in your mind the descriptions you'd read, "the Italian mafia that rules the city, corruption, complete apathy, and a mysterious protector in whom people find hope," every single article you found contained a mention of the Dark Knight, Gotham's only hope. A man, presumably, who alone decided to stand between all that is vile and cruel and the people of this beautiful city. "Who is he," you wondered, "what determination and courage must he possess to stand alone against them all?"

You took a sip of coffee and gazed wistfully into the night as its warmth spread pleasantly inside you. "Batman…what a ridiculous nickname," you smiled in disbelief, "he's either a complete idiot or a hopeless idealist," and yet you knew perfectly well that naivety and idealism went hand in hand all too often. Listening to the quietly beating heart of the city, you could imagine how one man could be willing to do anything to protect it. Even though you had lived here for barely more than a month, you felt like you belonged here.

The wind blew harder and you only closed your eyes enjoying the quiet murmur of the night. The night you loved so much, the night in which you always felt more alive than during the day. You listened to the sound of the cars, the quiet whisper of the wheels and the hum of the engines that passed through the many streets of the city like blood quietly flowing through the veins. Somewhere in the distance, a ship signaled its arrival in the bay, somewhere farther away the cries of seagulls rose into the night sky and echoed through the silence of the night. You smiled and with your imagination's eyes, you saw the people of Gotham, in their homes, slowly ending their day. Cuddling their children to sleep, relaxing while watching an evening movie, walking their dogs for one last evening walk, falling asleep in the embrace of their loved ones. "I wonder what the Dark Knight is doing when he's not fighting maniacal clowns," you thought, completely ignoring the quiet sound of footsteps coming from the entrance. You didn't have to open your eyes or turn around to feel his presence. The familiar feeling you trusted more than anything returned. The aura in the air suddenly changed, as if the air around you was filled with an electrifying tickle as he silently approached and leaned against the railing beside you. You let this new feeling tickle your senses. You let the cold wind cool the warmth of the coffee inside you, let the hum of the city drown out the silence that lingered between you, let the chill of the autumn night be warmed by the woody scent of warm spices that floated around you. You breathed deeply enjoying the fusion of sensations, smiled, and opened your eyes.

"You were right," you broke the silence in a whisper, "it is breathtaking," there was no trace of nervousness in your voice. Suddenly, every worry you had, every scenario of your awkward meeting that you had created in your mind over the past few days, seemed distant and so utterly ridiculous. For when you looked at him you felt nothing but peace. You felt this quiet excitement that seemed to be growing inside you.

Bruce only smiled faintly while gazing at the ocean of lights against the blackness of the night. For a long moment, you stood like that in silence, and to your surprise, it didn't bother you at all. Both of you gazing at the city, both of you enjoying a moment of peace and quiet after a hard day.

"I like coming here," a soft, low voice snapped you out of your reverie, "I like to listen to the quiet pulse of the city," blue eyes glimpsed at you, "usually I'm here alone."

"I'm sorry," you smiled innocently, "did I ruin your me time?"

"No," he replied softly, "it's a nice change," he added and gazed into the distance again, "it's just usually no one is here at this hour. What are you still doing in the office?"

"I like the night," you replied and leaned against the railing next to him, "I like to work at night, my brain is usually more productive after the sun goes down."

"I can relate to that," he murmured quietly then added, "I do not suppose you want to tell me that you have been working…"

"I'd like to," you replied realizing yet again that you were talking to the most important person in the company, "I've fallen down the rabbit hole called the Internet and endlessly scrolling through articles about Gotham and its more colorful inhabitants," you glanced at him stealthily but his face remained calm and stoic, " today's morning article on Batman triggered my need for knowledge."

"She reads after all!" he teased.

"Hey, not cool! It's not that I don't read at all!" you defended yourself, "I just like to keep good mental hygiene and not clutter it with unnecessary information!" you looked angrily at the barely noticeable smirk, "I regret a bit that I haven't thought about reading more about the city before I moved here…"

"Why didn't you do that?" he asked while looking into the distance.

"I realize how this is going to sound," you began, "but I had nothing to lose, and nothing to risk. I needed a change of scenery, I needed something new, something exciting in my life. I saw an opportunity and took it!"

"Some might say that this was stupid and unreasonable…" he quipped without looking at you.

"Perhaps, but damn… life is like poker you know! Sometimes a hand is dealt poorly and you have to wait it out. And sometimes you just go all in!" you glanced at him again looking for some reaction, "We don't get to choose how we start in this life. Real greatness is what you do with the hand you're dealt. That's what I believe, that's how I roll!" blue eyes flicked at you and a warm smile once again dawned on Bruce's face.

"I like that, those are wise words," he said softly.

"A moment ago you said you thought it was stupid and unreasonable," this time you teased forgetting again who you were talking to.

"I didn't say that I think so," he denied, "I said that some people may think so. I find that…" he hesitated while his blue eyes scanned your face as if searching for the right word within you, "admirable," he decided finally.

You smiled proudly and returned to gazing at the city spreading before your eyes. You couldn't say why, but talking to him came so naturally, so casually, as if you had known each other for many years. He didn't exude the same ego that Lex Luthor did, even though now as you looked at him you saw an undeniable strength in him. Although you tried not to, your eyes kept wandering in his direction. Toward his powerful figure, towering even as he leaned nonchalantly against the railing. The perfectly tailored suit displayed the position and power he possessed, the expensive watch whose dial reflected the moonlight represented prosperity, and that luring scent attracted and seduced without even trying. Yet there was ease and authenticity in his demeanor, honesty and genuineness in the tone of his voice and smile, sincere interest in the glow of his eyes. Beneath the facade of an influential powerful billionaire was a real human, a young man with tousled black hair and sparkling fascinated eyes whom you were eager to learn more about.

"If you had read about Gotham earlier would you have turned down the job offer?" he asked breaking the silence.

"I don't think so," you replied honestly, "but at least I would have known what I was signing up for. Instead, in one day I had to catch up on information about the Joker, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Killer Crock…" you began to list, "like forgive my French, but what the actual fuck!? Killer Crock!" Bruce chuckled quietly, "Seriously has anyone actually seen him, or is it just an urban myth!"

"Well, isn't it the fact that there's a grain of truth in every myth?"

"Perhaps, but somehow I find it hard to believe in a monster with the build of an oversized man but the appearance of a crocodile! I find hard to believe in a lot of things I've read about today but one thing is for sure, reporters in this city are remarkably brave!"

"Or unreasonable," he chuckled with a smirk.

"Or that!" you laughed quietly, "Maybe this city attracts unreasonable people…" you wondered aloud, "after all, at night it is protected by Batman…" you emphasized the last word, "Like seriously, dude calls himself Bat-man."

"Apparently Gotham has a thing for weirdos with ridiculous aliases," he snarked.

"You've lived here all your life, what do you think of all this as a native Gothamite?"

"Well, guy who dresses up like a bat clearly has issues," he replied with a sneer.

"True," you chuckled, "I wonder what childhood trauma drove him to do that. Instead of going to therapy, he kicks criminals' asses! At least he doesn't have to listen to endless 'how do you feel about this,' 'how does this make you feel,' 'your anger lies at the root of unresolved issues you've bottled up and hidden inside,'" you chuckled.

"You sound like someone who knows," the blue eyes gazed at you curiously.

"A friend told me," you joked and yet Bruce didn't take his eyes off you, as if he wanted you to continue, as if he wanted to ask, and yet something was holding him back.

You didn't know why but you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him everything that troubled you, a million thoughts that ran through your mind as he stared at you as if trying to understand you without the need for words. You were usually cautious around new people, you usually hid behind a giant wall you had built for yourself, you usually didn't say anything about yourself, you usually assumed a mask of confidence, sarcasm, irony adorned with a devil may care attitude. And yet there was something about him that for a moment ignited within you a desire to be real for a change. A desire not to pretend this time. Maybe it was the casualness of your encounters, maybe it was the nature of your interactions, or maybe it was the simple sincerity and human kindness he expressed. You just wanted to be yourself…

You took a breath calming your excited heart wanting to continue the subject you had jokingly started when suddenly the sky lit up with a pale yellow glow illuminating the bat symbol against the blackness of the night sky. It shone intensely, making you suddenly feel uneasy as if all your senses suddenly turned into a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"I've never seen it before…" you whispered quietly. Bruce only turned around and looked at the symbol in the sky. For a split second something shifted in him, a change barely discernible under the cover of darkness, so subtle that you were sure a normal person wouldn't even notice it. But not you. You noticed the subtle change in posture, the tense muscles of his neck, and the blue in his eyes that seemed to have taken on the color of the deep ocean.

"We should get home," he said in his usual warm voice, and yet there was something different in it, "I know you're new here, but when that symbol shines in the sky, it's a sign that the city is not safe," you nodded observing him carefully, "do you have a car in the parking lot?"

"No, I haven't bought a new one yet," you replied and Bruce only reached for his phone and without asking you, called one of the cabs that drove for Wayne Enterprises, "no walking today huh?" you smirked.

"Raincheck?" he asked and you smiled in agreement.

"What about you?" you asked.

"The end of the month is approaching, I'll probably be working until morning," he replied, "I'd drive you home but I really don't know how long it will take, I'd rather you be home as soon as possible. On a night like this, your curiosity could put you in danger."

"You sound like you think you know me, Mr. Wayne! " you sassed.

"I don't," he leaned closer and for a moment the depths of the ocean took on the color of blue sky again, "but I'd like to. Consider me curious."

The shadow of the night in its blessing hid your flushed cheeks as you left the observation deck heading in a hurry home. As you left Wayne Tower, thanking Bruce for arranging the cab and for the delightful conversation, exchanging last glances and polite smiles, you knew that this night would be a restless one for the people of Gotham as well as for you.

That night you didn't sleep. That night you pondered about what to do with the hand you're dealt.

***

Chapter three: Madness and old friends

***

Author note: Thank you for the warm response to first chapter. Hope you enjoyed this one as well. I want lie, I was kind of regretting my decision to set everything on a work background, because it challenged me to write mundane stuff and not make them boring! Hope I managed to do so! I am so eager to write all the craziness that Gotham has to offer but story needs to have a flow. Cause and effect. So I really need to hold myself back for now. I have an idea which I want to realize. Hope that at the end it will be worth it ;) But for now, my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

#batman x reader #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #batman x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction

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ophelia-ophelian · 8 months

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Dancing together || Fluff-tober

Pairing: Lucifer x reader (gender neutral)

Author's note: Lucifer taught Levi how to dance and it’s been in my head for forever ack. Also, got carried away while writing and it's now 1:40 am and I have classes tomorrow :,)

Word count: 1,667

When you first started in the Devildom, not only did you not expect the entire situation in its entirety, but you didn’t expect the plethora of problems the people you moved in with had. Of course, you had other concerns and worries, it was natural. But after settling in, you were attending classes regularly, being an unpaid therapist, trying to be vigilant on your chore day, and the like. But, there was something that you did not expect: formal parties at Diavolo’s palace.

You held the invitation in your hands, the wax sealed envelope smelling vaguely of ashes and an unknown cologne you know Diavolo uses – It’s some Devildom product that you aren’t entirely familiar with, not like Mammon’s cologne or Asmodeus’s perfume where you tell where either are by the smell of the room alone. It’s akin to Lucifer’s where it’s subtle, but you can smell it when you pass him or when you’re reporting how your studies are going when you two are in his office…if you ignore the strong smell of coffee halfway through the day. Shaking your head to focus and reread the invitation, you confirm that it is a royal ball, fit for high ranking demons and the exchange students. The corners of your lips turn down slightly, worrying about how you will be perceived because not only are you left without proper attire, but you also don’t know how to ballroom dance that well. You figure looking up some video tutorials would help, but having practice would feel more reassuring. While being lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize that the door to your room is opening and someone is leaning on the doorframe.

“Are you nervous?”

You jolt out of your thoughts once again and turn your attention to the familiar and firm voice. It’s Lucifer. You put down the invitation and rise from your sitting position on your bed to greet him.

“What would I be nervous about?” You ask, knowing that he has probably already deduced that you were worrying about the ball. Although he doesn’t mingle too much with humans, he knows that formal balls are not held regularly in modern times, so he figured he should come check on you to see if you knew how to dance. He tries to reason with himself that he’s doing this for his reputation and so you don’t look awkward if or when you decide to dance with someone, it would also save you the embarrassment.

“About dancing,” he moves one arm to gesture to nothing in particular. Sometimes you notice that when he’s more relaxed he moves his hands in a lackadaisical manner, mostly just talking with his hands to give himself a larger presence. And, when he’s angry to the point a vein sticks out on his forehead, he talks with his hands in a more fast and aggressive way. He also tends to pace when he’s especially pissed.

“I mean, I’ve never been to a formal event quite like this. It’s not like I get invited to royal events in the human world,” you chuckle out, “I’m not really sure how to ballroom dance honestly.”

Lucifer stops leaning against your doorframe and walks into your room, shutting the door behind him. Standing upright, he asks, “Would you like me to teach you?”

You tense up a bit, you’ve never really touched Lucifer other than the occasional and accidental brushing on your fingertips when you graciously give him a refill on his coffee after a common hard day or when your handing over your graded assignments so he can assess your progress and provide support when necessary. You stay silent for a moment, and so does he. Lucifer holds a strong presence wherever he goes, his pride allowing him to hold the charisma and fear of a leader.

After a moment or so, you breathe out, “It would be kind of you to do that. But are you sure you’re comfortable with teaching me? I mean, you’ve never been too touchy with anyone aside from hanging Mammon upside down. Are you sure?”

He chuckles, “Why would I have an issue with that? I think it would be beneficial to both of us if you learned this. Besides, the basics of ballroom dancing is easy to teach and even easier to learn. You can just follow my lead. And,” he continues, making eye contact, “if you feel less comfortable about dancing with anyone else, you can just dance with me for the entire ball.”

Again, you return to silence, mulling the thought over. You’ve only been in the Devildom for a couple months now, so while you’re settled in and starting to feel a home and a sense of belonging here, Lucifer’s mind is still difficult to gauge. It feels odd that he would offer something like this, but it’s worth a shot if you don’t want to look awkward at the royal event. You sigh, taking him up on his offer and he smiles.

“Wonderful, let’s start here, I would hate for one of my brothers to walk in and disturb our time together.” He walks up to you and offers his hand, you take it and he pulls you into him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him and it’s intimidating and oddly…intimate. You get a whiff of that familiar cologne but yet, there’s no smell of coffee this time. His other hand rests on your waist and looks at you. “So,” he begins, “I will lead, so you can just follow my movements. A good thing to know is that the leader, me in this case, will give you subtle signs of what they want you to do. For example, if I want you to move towards me, I will pull your hip and hand towards me gently. Like this.” His hands do just that, and you follow, stepping on his feet for a second before recovering. “Oh, I should probably mention your feet. When I go forward and you go backwards, I will lead with my right foot, meaning you will step back with your left,” He pushes your hand forward and loosens the grip on your hip, he leads with his right foot as he said and you are able to follow. “Wonderful. Now, to do a spin…”

As time goes on, he teaches you the basics of ballroom dancing until you are able to follow his motions fluidly and feel more confident in yourself. As you finish the dance, he takes your hand, “Now, at the end of the dance, the leader will sometimes take your hand and kiss your knuckles. But, since we are just learning, there is no need for that.” You thank him for teaching you how to dance in preparation for the royal ball, feeling a bit better about yourself.

The day for the royal ball arrives and you arrive with Mammon since he prefers to be the one to take you places “for your protection” and mostly to spend time with you. Time goes on as you enjoy yourself and help yourself to the food. Wishing you could partake in Demonus and it having an effect on you as the night might be a little more airy if you could get something to calm your nerves of feeling watched – even though you knew many Demons adored you. Soon, the music shifts into something slower and some Demons begin to dance with each other. Freeing yourself of the scene to go to the balcony to have a breath of fresh Devildom air, you have a quiet moment to yourself. It feels nice. Someone walks out to the balcony and comes beside you.

“Are you nervous?”

“Hi Lucifer,” you turn to face him, “You seriously need to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

He chuckles, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, I wasn’t trying to scare you, do I just have that effect? Hm?”

You turn your eyes away sheepishly as he tilts his head and looks into your eyes. You look back up at him and your eyes meet his. There was that feeling again, the intimidating yet intimate feeling.

“If you like,” He continues, “I’ll dance with you and we can end the night on a happy note. How does that sound? It’ll be beneficial for both of us.”

You nod your head as you breathe out an airy laugh. He takes your hand and leads you back and onto the dance floor. “Remember what I taught you. No need to worry about anything, just follow my lead, okay?” You nod and he pulls you close to his chest. You stare back at him as you two begin to dance. As you glide across the dance floor, you notice some small details on his face that you weren’t able to before, you felt so close to him. How sharp his jawline is, the curve of his nose is handsome and befitting of his face, his eyes have different shades of red and his hair shapes his face almost perfectly. It’s obvious that he takes great pride in his appearance no matter if it be his posture, reputation, or his looks. All in all, he’s handsome. Looking at him has your heart racing a bit faster and has heat rising to your cheeks. His body runs warm, or maybe the heat of your face spreads to the rest of your body, but either way it’s a comforting feeling in some way. With being this close, you can smell his cologne more, he must have reapplied some before coming. The dance ends before you know it and he pulls away, taking your hand.

“Thank you for this dance, I taught you well. Now,” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a light and quick kiss to your knuckles while bowing slightly, his eyes never leave yours, “I shall take my leave. Have one of my brothers walk you back so I can know you’ve gotten back safely. I still have matters to attend to after the event ends.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer

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allamericanb-tch · 2 months

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crimson rivers thoughts (8)

@tastetherainbow290 do you still want to be tagged in these?

chapter 15

oh. my.

regulus ❤️‍🩹

evan “on three or after three” rosier (he is so me)

“i don’t think i’ll be able to walk” really james? i thought you had two working legs.

james now is NOT the time to flirt

i’ve never stepped in a bear trap before and now i never want to

regulus threatening sirius’ hair. yeah he would

i love evan and james friendship

“i don’t want them to change you” regulus 💔

nooo a problem

nooo regulus don’t leave him

KISS ALREADY come on.

ok forehead kiss i see you

“a parting gift” tears. crying. my heart is shattered. why did you have to make this sad.

not them both leaving james behind

james pov. ugh why is this so sad

wow regulus again ok. i mean james is just sitting in a cave so this makes sense

oh no. where did mulciber go.

WHAT

WAIT

WHAT

EVAN

wait guys im actually crying

“i think you two would’ve gotten on well” yeah. rip evan rosier you would have loved barty crouch jr

sirius pov now…

oh my god i am c r y i n g

“hallow is hollow.” BANGER

oh no. please mulciber do not find james.

and just like that its over. omg.

@gardenofrunar how could you tell me to read another knowing what happens ☹️

chapter 16

and he’s found james. lovely.

i love that when anyone refers to james or regulus as the other’s boyfriend they both just go with it

poor james. he is too soft for all of it.

oh they’re fighting

i know james lives but i still am worried for him

james resorting to throwing dirt 💀

james relentlessly beating mulciber with the hatchet after the cannon sounds

rip mulciber you will not be missed

jegulus reunited once more

james is awake again!!

no don’t talk about evan im gonna cry again

yeah. crying.

remus pov!

remus dating standards 💀 he’s so real honestly

“I'll show you yours if you show me mine." thank the lord for comic relief

effie and monty mention ❤️

remus opening up to sirius

i swear they’re always like “i want to kiss” and then they don’t??

ok im so curious what did remus do

chapter 17

author says they’re excited for this chapter… should i be scared

update i was going to wait until i read this chapter to post but i decided to post anyway

#crimson rivers

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starry-nights12 · 10 months

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Romantic Homicide

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship: Ekko/Jinx (Timebomb)

Word Count: 4,401

Tags: Angst, Ekko Needs a Hug, Jinx Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Hurt No Comfort

Summary:

Jinx is on the run and has to flee the city. But before she does, she has a few parting words to tell her dear old friend, Ekko.

Author's Note:

The title is from d4vd song. The song fits them so well!

This fic is for @redrum-alice! This whole fic is based on their idea!

Big thanks to @su-univeralai for editing it!

Fic's playlist🥀🖤

Steam filled the bathroom and billowed out the hallway through the cracked door.

Ekko stood under the shower and let the hot water wash over his body. It was nearly scalding but the little bit of pain felt good.

He cupped his hands under the water and then splashed his face. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing hers gazing back at him.

He couldn't do it.

He thought killing her would solve his problems and be the end of it.

Her smiles used to be full of joy, and her laughter was contagious. Now, only her smiles were wide and sadistic at the bloodshed she caused.

But for once, her smile was wistful. Her eyes gleamed with unspoken apologies.

It was Silco's fault for destroying their lives.

It was Jinx's fault for choosing Silco and willingly working for him.

It was Ekko's fault for not saving her.

He didn't kick the bomb fast enough. His ankle was sprained but he tried moving her. His broken hoverboard couldn't even carry two people anyway.

And now she's dead.

He sat under that bridge and cried for her after he heard Silco leaving with her.

I keep trying to do right by her, but it never works out. I'm just a fucking failure.

He sighed heavily as he turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel.

He was drying his face off when he felt a hard whack to the side of his head.

----

He groaned when he came to. His head throbbed and his vision was blurry.

Wherever he was, the room was only dimly lit by candles. Shimmer-colored eyes stared back at him. "You're awake."

Holy fucking shit.

He knew whose voice that belonged to.

"What the fuck? Jinx?!"

"That's me," She sings-song in a monotone voice.

A cacophony of emotions brewed inside him. He was confused, relieved, and even happy that she was alive. But he was mostly shocked at seeing her.

"Oh my Gods. You're alive?"

"Am I alive?" She scoffed. "You would have liked it if I died, wouldn't you?"

"What? No!" He answered earnestly.

"Don't lie to me," she removed PowPow from its holster and loaded it with bullets. "I fucking hate liars. They make me sick."

"I wouldn't lie to you. I would never-"

"People will say anything to not get killed." She cocked her gun.

My bat.

I need my bat.

He couldn't move his hands. He couldn't move anything except his head.

He looked down at himself; he was clothed. He remembered getting out of the shower before everything went black.

His arms, legs, feet, and chest were tightly bound to a chair with rope. He surveyed his surroundings and realized he wasn't in his room.

He struggled to break free from his restraints to no avail. "Where am I?"

Jinx huffed. "Back to where it aaaallllll started," She droned.

She didn't need to elaborate. He could never forget. He was the one to follow Silco and informed Vi of where he was holding Vander.

The canary by the docks.

He should have never told her. Or at least try to help. It was all his fault.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You're so rude," she twirled her gun around her finger. "Can't two old friends just catch up?"

He rolled his eyes. "Cut the bullshit. You just came to kill me."

She hummed in consideration. "That depends on how much you piss me off, sunny boy," She drolled.

"But I have good news. My name will go down in history as the woman that killed the council!"

He didn't care about what happened to Topsiders but that news still surprised him. "You did?"

Jinx beamed, "Yes, sir-y! I'm going to be famous even when I'm good and dead!" She bubbled.

"But being famous comes with a price. You see, if the Enforcers don't kill me first, then those losers at Stillwater will try.

Killing the daughter of an infamous drug lord would rack up the bragging points, ya know? So, I'm leaving. I wanted to talk to you before I left."

"Talk to me? But how did you know I was even alive?"

Gods, she hated being weak. It was the reason that the little girl's bloated, decomposed body was floating in the well.

But she was never going to see him again so it wouldn't matter.

"I thought you were dead. I was going to Benzo's shop for old-time sake," She admitted.

"And what did I see? You, waltzing inside like nothing happened." She shook her head at herself. "I should have known. Nothing ever stays dead," She grumbled.

What she omitted was that she made a metal bouquet of flowers.

She hid in an alley and watched him enter. She couldn't believe that she was crying over him yet there he was.

She threw the bouquet in a nearby dumpster and stormed towards the shop.The door was obviously locked.

The shop had been boarded up for years. Nothing but bittersweet memories of her ex-friend and his father figure.

But unfortunately for him, she remembered his secret entrance. They used it when they wanted to eavesdrop on Benzo and Vander or Benzo with his customers.

"I was in the shower when you kidnapped me," He noted.

Since I was distracted, she was able to use it to her advantage and took the opportunity to pistol whip me.

"Yep," She shrugged nonchalantly. "You aren't special. I did the same with that Enforcer chick too."

She didn't have time to leer or gawk at him. She had to get him dressed and out of his home before he became conscious again.

Caitlyn?

Ugh. No way. She would rather have her eyes bleached than see that mess again.

Ekko?

Well...

Under different circumstances, she wouldn't have minded seeing the Boy Saviour undressed.

His eyes widened.

Caitlyn? She was with Vi the last I saw them.

His heart wanted to plummet out of his body as panic arose.

No. No, no, no, no, no. Oh Gods, no.

"What did you do with them? Did you kill Vi?"

Jinx rolled her eyes and sighed.

Oh, right. He's still talking.

"You see, big sis and I haven't gotten along since she started dating that demon," She said. "So, maybe! I'm just chock-full of surprises!" She giggled.

"You're not funny, Jinx," He admonished.

"No. I'm hilarious," She smirked at her quip.

She stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She wanted to get a good look at him one last time.

His hair was down, and he wasn't wearing his usual face paint.

His brown eyes were glaring at her, his cute wide nose scrunched up, and his mouth was twisted in contempt. Yet, his full lips looked very soft.

Again, under different circumstances, she would have loved to kiss him. She always wanted him to be her first kiss.

She would have loved his mouth to touch other places on her body.

He had no right being this pretty and making her heart swoon the way he did.

She reached out and brushed a stray, damp dreadlock out of his face. His hair was as soft and white as the clouds she saw in Piltover.

Ekko cringed and turned his face away from her.

Sometimes, he had dreams of them being happy and he felt her tender touches, smiling warmly at him as she did.

But he didn't want it like this. Being held against his will in a dilapidated building where their lives were irreparably ruined.

Out of everything she's done, this sudden act of affection was bizarre.

Her heart squeezed painfully as she retracted her hand.

Even my touch disgusts him.

He thought he saw something flash in her eyes...was she hurt?

He yelped when she backhanded him. He suppressed a groan from the stinging pain in his cheek.

She cackled and pointed at him.

She was being nice to Ekko for the first time in years, and he didn't even appreciate it.

She felt immense joy when she slapped Sevika awake. She even sighed in content from hitting that ogre that always looked down on her.

She wanted to hurt him like he just did to her. She should have felt better...but she didn't.

He heard her laugh while they fought. It was shrill, filled with unbridled satisfaction as she shot at him and his gang.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he turned his head to her. Her pupils would dilate from the high of mowing them down with her bullets.

This time was different.

Her grin didn't reach her eyes. Her laugh almost sounded forceful; adding faux glee in enjoying his pain.

At least he hoped so.

"What happened to you? Why did you take shimmer?"

Yesh. He sure asked a lot of questions. It's not like we're friends. It wasn't any of his business anyway. It's not like he cares.

She grabbed the sides of his chair and leaned close to his face. He ignored how the proximity made his heart skip a beat, and his cheeks warm.

"Because I thought it was juice. It looked yummy," She innocently smiled.

"Instead of trying to destroy it, you and your wannabe street trash should try it. It tastes as good as it looks." She grinned widely while shaking his chair.

Jinx laughed when Ekko's lip curled in disgust. He was always so serious.

He couldn't reason with her. He tried so many times in the past, but she wouldn't listen. She liked how she turned out.

He sighed dejectedly, "You're so talented and smart. You wasted everything, Powder."

"My name is not Powder!" She threw a chair with enough force to smash the wood into pieces as it hit the wall.

"You and Vi keep calling me by a dead brat's name! It's Jinx! J-I-N-X! Jinx!" She shouted. The utensils clattered with every banging of her fist with each letter.

Her eyes glowed brighter in her fury. Her teeth gritted into a snarl and growled, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

His whole body froze.

Holy shit.

He wishes there was a way to get out of here. He wanted to go home, but his location had been compromised.

The Firelight Base. Did she know where that was? Gods, he prayed she didn't find that out, too.

He released a breath he was holding. "Jinx," He quickly corrected. "It's Jinx. I slipped up. It was an accident."

She turned her gaze at him. For the first time that night, he sounded startled.

She had the gun loaded when she broke into the shop. When he was unconscious she took out the bullets and then reloaded when he gained consciousness to scare him.

Her display of strength from her outburst wasn't planned. She slowly grinned, and her giggling turned into peels of maniacal laughter.

Not so tough now, huh?

She sighed happily when her laughing subsided.

She walked around his chair with her finger tracing the wood.

"You know what else is funny?" She yanked his shirt and sneered. "How you got everything to lose while I got nothing.

Why does the universe favor you so much? I went through the same thing, but I have nothing to show for it." She said bitterly.

He stared at her for a moment.

So that's what she thought of his life? That it was somehow better? That everything in his life was carefree with zero problems?

"You think I have everything I wanted? That my life is so fuckng easy and perfect compared to yours?" He chuckled sardonically.

"Yeah, I have new friends. But every time I step out of my home, I have to worry about you or Enforcers killing them!" He seethed.

"I lost everyone! I saw Benzo get killed! I lost Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Vi, and you. All in one night!

It has nothing to do with the universe. It's your shitty decisions that got you here! It's why you're on the run now!

We went through the same shit together! But you wanted to be coddled and let Silco turn you into what you are now." He exploded.

"And what is that? Hm?" She challenged. "A monster? Yeah, real-"

"A corpse!" Ekko spat, his voice broken slightly. "He turned my best friend into a corpse of what she used to be!"

Her eyes widened. She released his shirt and backed away. Her chest suddenly became tight and it was hard to breathe. Mylo liked that and was laughing at her.

A corpse.

Something that was slowly rotting away, in front of his eyes for seven years.

Someone that should have been dead but was still staggering around acting alive and well.

He sounded hurt; the tears sliding down his face providing evidence of his feelings. As if seeing her grow up into what she was now has caused him excruciating pain.

She swallowed a big, painful lump down her throat but managed to chuckle, shaking her head.

He and Vi thought they knew everything. Silco didn't create her. She had dormant traits laying within her that she discovered with him.

She was going to tell him that, but Ekko had more to say.

"I had no one else to go to. You were all I had left. But after Silco adopted you, you left me. You turned your back on me for him and I was alone.

You said Vi abandoned you, Jinx. But you wanna know how I felt? That you abandoned me too."

Her heart stopped beating, all the air sucked out of her.

Her ending their friendship to embrace her new life with Silco felt like a betrayal to him. So much so that he felt abandoned by her.

Abandoned.

No.

How dare he?! She wasn't like Vi.

Was she?

Her stomach churned at the comparison.

I'm not like Vi.

I would never do something like that.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Jinx pointed the gun to his forehead. "You're lying!" She stormed. "I could kill you!"

He was emotionally drained.

If she killed him, then at least he was able to tell her everything he wanted to say to her for the last several years.

He would miss everyone at his base. His best friend, Scar, was second in command. At least his community would be safe in his hands.

He pressed his forehead against the barrel. "If you think I'm lying then do it. Kill me. This will be the last time you'll keep hurting me."

Her gun stayed there for two minutes. She trailed it down his face, jaw, and chest.

In a better world, it would have been her hands caressing him. He would look at her in adoration as if she was something to behold and treasure.

But this was reality. Not a stupid, childish fantasy.

Her finger was dangerously close to pulling the trigger.

She used to have everything.

They scrapped for coins and struggled to get by, but she had a loving family and her best friend was her first crush.

Her inventions failed but she had Vi encouraging her. She believed in her when she didn't believe in herself.

Now she had no one.

Her birth parents were murdered.

She killed Vander and her brothers.

She killed Silco.

Vi went with the Enforcer.

Her ex-friend felt like she betrayed and abandoned him. He wanted her to kill him.

She truly was alone in this world.

'Do it,' Mylo encouraged. 'Then we'll finally have someone better to talk to. Besides, he was our friend too.'

No.

'No?' Mylo scoffed. 'You're never going to see him again. If you missed him so much then make him join us. It's the only way he'll ever talk to you again.' Mylo mocked.

'He hates you. If he hated you before he hates you even more. You're nothing but a mistake. A Jinx,' A smile crept along his face. 'A corpse.'

Her anguish and rage escaped her body into a roar.

Gunshots rang out into the night, crows cawed and flew away.

Smoke emitted from the barrel of her gun, she breathed heavily, tears brimming her eyes.

Silco's eyes were wide in shock when she shot her before they eventually closed.

Vander, Mylo, Claggor, and Silco.She killed everyone.

Ekko's eyes were still open too. They used to be filled with warmth and his presence comforted her.

All she felt was his cold, gaze bore into whatever was left of her damaged soul.

He was glaring at her. He didn't flinch from the shots she fired in the air.

She let her gun slip from her hands and dropped to her knees; gut-wrenching sobs tore through her chest and she covered her face with shaking hands.

Her sorrow strangled her until she heaved for breath and coughed.

She couldn't do it.

She desperately tried and wanted to forget about him over the years, but she couldn't. Her crush on him still lingered. She yearned for how things used to be.

She missed their friendship. She missed him.

A part of her cared for him even though there was no chance that he felt the same.

Ekko leaned his head back on the chair, closed his eyes, and listened to her cries.

He felt empty. Tonight had hollowed out his emotions but a single tear managed to escape his eye.

Why did their lives turn out like this? They always seemed miserable around each other.

You can't change the past and have to move towards the present. But time doesn't heal all wounds.

He missed what they used to be. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted both of them to be happy one day.

They didn't deserve this. They deserved better.

Ekko opened his eyes when she stopped sobbing and stared at her hunched figure. Her hand slid down her face and she stared back at him.

Her eyes were red with black tears staining her face. She snorted and wiped the snot from her nose.

She stood and took out a switchblade from her pocket.

He eyed the knife in her hand, looked at her face, and braced himself.

She didn't shoot him but probably wanted to stab him instead.She wanted his death to be more painful than a quick gunshot.

She wanted to feel the knife plunge into him, his blood running down her hands, choking on it while watching as he slowly succumbed to his stab wounds.

Instead, she slashed her knife across the restraints.

Without the rope around his chest, he was able to breathe deeply. He sighed his exhaustion then rubbed his wrist.

"When things got really bad, I used to remember how you were always there to comfort me." She shook her head with a sad smile. "Now all we do is hurt each other."

"We can still go back to that. We can still try."

"No. We can't. We changed too much." She grabbed her backpack from under the table.

"Where are you going?"

She had to leave this cursed city. She didn't know where she would hide but she knew for certain where she was heading after all this.

She put the straps over her shoulders and smiled weakly. "To hell." She sniffed and wiped her cheeks.

She was going to leave again. She was going to slip through his fingers again and lose her forever.

"We don't have to end it like this," he stood up. "We can figure something out."

She shook her head. "It's too late. Everything between us is tainted, Ekko. You're twenty. You're too old to be playing hero. You-"

Jinx's eyes widened when Ekko enveloped her in a tight embrace.

A reasonable person would have high-tailed it out of there. But she used to be his childhood friend and his first love.

As fucked up as the situation was, she still is.

Only her.

She was going to disappear, and he wanted something good to remember her by.

She hadn't had any physical affection since Silco and Vi. She should have pulled away but there wasn't any fight left in her.

The two of them slowly sank onto the floor. He was so warm, his strong arms around her lithe frame.

She kidnapped him, slapped him, and threatened to murder him, yet he was being so tender with her.

After everything she did, this sudden act of tenderness was odd.

But it was welcomed.

She clung to him and buried her face into his shirt. Can you feel euphoria from a hug? Because this felt amazing.

"Please stay," He pleaded.

Stay? After the torment she put him through tonight he wanted her to stay?

She shook her head. "I can't. I'll get you killed. Not you. Anyone but you," She rasped.

"It won't happen. Things can be different."

"You don't know that. It'll all come crashing down and you'll blame me. Killing people is what I'm good at," She sniffled.

"You don't know that either. We won't know if things can turn out better if we don't try," He beseeched.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you want me to stay?" She whimpered.

"Because I'm tired of fighting you. I never enjoyed it. I just want peace. I want my friend back. Please, P-Jinx. I'm sorry. Please, Jinx." He nuzzled the crook of her neck.

He was so naive. So desperate to ignore the fact that he couldn't save everyone. His hero syndrome wouldn't let him believe otherwise.

"You have to let me go."

She didn't even want to let him go. His hug was welcoming and brought her comfort.

His arms tightened around her. "You're not a jinx. I'll protect you. I'll be happy that you stayed. I want you here." His hand cradled the back of her head.

She thought she ran out of tears, but he was able to make more fill her eyes.

Oh my Gods.

Her insides felt warm and fuzzy, her surroundings became a soft blur of pink with hearts everywhere.

Only him. She wanted to cradle his head and keep him there.

She savored the slow caresses on his back while the other traveled to his head.

Only-

No.

Her eyes shot open and her hand stopped at his nape.

You can't stay. You'll only hurt him again. You'll only cause him more problems. You have to leave.

She rapidly blinked herself out of her daze, her hands tightly gripping his shoulders.

Gods, what the fuck was she doing?

"Let go!"

She roughly shoved him away, his back hit the table with a grunt: it nearly toppled over with the glass cups and plates shattering on the floor

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Her hands reached out for him but she held them to her chest.

Mylo rolled his eyes. His little sister was so predictable.

'You're hurting him again. That's all you're ever good for.'

She scrambled to get up and sprinted to the door.

"Jinx, please!"

His big, teary, brown eyes pleaded with her when his words couldn't.

She couldn't look at them anymore. The pain constricted into her body and clenched her heart with its razor-sharp talons.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the straps of her backpack tighter. "I'm sorry, Little Man. For everything."

A flash of blue and a trail of magenta bolted down the hallway.

"Jinx!"

He ran after her, but she already vanished.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of his pocket.

He kneeled to unfold it, the letter was written in blue and pink markers:

Dear Ekko,

I'm sorry.

You always knew how to make me feel better when we were kids. Before the incident, you were always my favorite person.

You still are.

Goodbye,

-JINX

Her favorite person.

The confession made his heart soar yet shatter him at the same time.

He wanted to tell her that she was his favorite person, too.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I still love a woman that breaks my heart?

He sat on the floor and then held his head in his hands.

She was gone.

His sadness simmered and boiled into anger.

Nothing he said worked, and his pleading fell on deaf ears. Someone from his past that he wanted to have but couldn't.

He was useless when it came to her.

He failed her.

Again.

Always letting her down.

That was all he was ever good for, right?

----

Jinx was exiting the canary when she heard him scream. She whipped her head around and gasped softly, "Ekko?"

She wanted to go back. Take him up on his offer that things can be different.

She didn't want to be alone, and he was giving her a chance even after everything that transpired.

Ekko gave her hope. She wanted to be happy. With him. She longed for that so much. She wanted her dreams to become a reality.

She wanted a friend. He was all she had left.

She took two steps forward in the doorway when Silco appeared in front of her. His pristine suit was riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

'You shouldn't go back, dear. He's not worth your time.' He advised.

"But he's-he was my friend."

'He refused to accept you. Just like your sister. He'll be with you for ten minutes before he rejects you again.' Silco said.

Jinx frowned. "But he said-"

'He lied. Everyone does.' Silco reminded her. 'I'm your family. I would never steer you wrong. Have I?'

Jinx's eyes dropped to the floor as she shook her head.

'This is about your survival, child. I'm not there to protect you anymore. You have to do what you must to make it in this world. He'll only slow you down and hurt you again. Just like everyone else in your life.' Silco stated.

Jinx looked past him and into the dark hallway.

She didn't want to hurt Ekko anymore. She wanted to show him that she was capable of doing more.

Silco's features contorted into an irritated scowl. His daughter was smarter than this. Why was she hesitating for some boy?

'You need to leave him, Jinx,' He said sternly. 'Now.'

Her eyes glazed with fresh tears and her lips trembled.

A lone firelight flew past her as she ran away.

#timebomb #ekkojinx #ekko #jinx #arcane #arcane fanfic #fanfiction #my post #my writing #my fics #gift fic #angst

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hikari-ni-naritai · 3 months

Text

ok so ive had a few hours to digest shinsekai. thoughts and spoilers ahead!

so ok. shinsekai yori is the kind of show, similar to season 1 of shield hero, where taking a watsonian perspective makes it look really, really good! if we could take the text just as it stands, its great. it's a story about, at its core, the parts of humanity nobody likes to look at. fear, oppression, playing god, the powerful going to any lengths to keep power for themselves, cruelty, desperation. taken at face value, it's a fascinating exploration of how, exactly, humanity might deal with psychic powers manifesting in a small portion of the population.

but we're not here to take a watsonian perspective. we must once again look through the lens of the doylist perspective, and unlike shield hero's obviously shitty foundation, this one's... confusing. any time someone writes about political structures, oppression and revolution, and societies very different from our own, they're going to inevitably let some of their personal beliefs colour the narrative. and i couldnt figure out, really, what the author believes in this one. but i think a good way to put it is that the author set out to create a deeply unethical world, extrapolated from problems in modern humanity, and said "we need to change these problems". but they trip over their own feet in this because theyre. not actually capable of imagining a better future for the world theyve created.

the first big problem to address is the fact that children have no human rights and are killed if they show any signs of nonconformity or potentially dangerous outbursts or if they suck at being psychic or if they arent psychic at all. this is a defense against the emergence of Fiends and Karma Demons, but Fiends are the primary issue. to prevent psychics from slaughtering each other, humanity was genetically modified to be instinctively unwilling to attack other humans, and to experience death feedback, a biological response to killing another human where the body's psychic energy shuts down vital organs and kills itself. Fiends are humans who lack these and are thus able to kill indiscriminately. humans can't fight back because theyre biologically programmed not to kill humans, so Fiends are effectively unstoppable once they snap. and so we must kill them as children before they become fiends (by breeding big cats for murder), forbid discussion of "missing" students, and modify the memory of any students who knew them. this, as all the characters except the ruling class agree, is horrible! it's cruel and inhumane and no civilised society should ever implement such a policy.

but like. what is there to be done instead? the show never offers an alternative. it doubles down and tells us the only reason the last Fiend was stopped was because of a fluke. another emergence of a Fiend would destroy humanity. and when another Fiend DOES emerge, rather than finding a way to deal with it, it's simply. not actually a Fiend. it can be dealt with, but it doesnt solve the problem at all. In fact, the one method they find to actually kill a fiend without dying themselves is destroyed and unrecoverable.

main character Saki is told she's to take over as head of the Ethics Committee, which one would think could result in meaningful change being made. but, from what i gathered in the last episode, she's simply a member of the committee, not the head. and no changes to the practice of murdering children are ever suggested or explored. maybe she DOES have thoughts on the matter, but the author does not tell us them, and i believe this is because they also do not know what to do.

the second huge issue is the oppression of the slave race, the bakenezumi. where do i even fuckin start. bakenezumi are sentient creatures that appear to have evolved from naked mole rats and worship humans as gods due to their psychic powers. their societies are similar to ants in that only the queen can give birth, they live in tunnels underground, and they steal workers and larvae from their defeated enemies after winning inter-colony wars. they are heavily regulated by humans. their colony name is tattooed on their forehead at birth and they have to submit paperwork before being allowed to go to war with each other or have battles. if they commit crimes against humans, they could face the eradication of their entire colony. humans claim this is only in "extreme cases", but our protagonist's comphet boyfriend says that questioning the deity of humans is punishable by death, so how "extreme" could it really be?

crucially, the bakenezumi are sentient. they may speak a language of primarily grunts and squeaks, but they are perfectly capable of learning the human tongue and speaking it fluidly. they can read, they can organise into military units, they can fill out paperwork, they can enter into contracts, they are for all intents and purposes humans that live in the ground and come out of a big meaty queen looking like bugs. their political structure is primitive, sure, but feudal monarchy was common during a time when we would consider humans to still have been fully sentient, so thats not really a proper argument against the bakenezumi.

any sentient race living subservient to another race is eventually going to revolt. when your entire nation could get wiped out if you accidentally said 'yknow ion think those guys are gods' within earshot of a human, what reason do you have NOT to revolt? squealer (may he rest in power), the primary antagonist of the second half of the show, recognized this, but so did kiromaru, the leader of an alliance of bakenezumi colonies that was fiercely loyal to humans. BOTH of them recognized the futility of their existence and attempted to do something about it. but the humans are completely incapable of understanding this point of view. the standard humans, yeah, but also the main characters who are generally wiser about the societal problems with human society. even saki, whose job it is to work with bakenezumi, cant figure out why theyd rebel. because humans see bakenezumi as inferior creatures. no more than beasts of burden.

but what does the show do with this? it's fuckin, hard to say, really. squealer is portrayed as a cunning, ruthless leader who takes his colony into a new age of.... democracy and union membership? he commits horrible atrocities against his own people and against humanity in an effort to eradicate humans and become the new dominant species, but like. the way his crimes are tied to his support of democratic governance, unions, individual rights, and forward thinking, contrasted by the Noble Savage kiromaru's clinging to the Old Ways of tyrannical monarchy and dying for the sake of the colony, its hard not to come to the conclusion that the position we're expected to take is 'modernity is bad and the people selling it are lying to you'. squealer's society is just as based on dying for the sake of the colony as kiromaru's, and this 'contradiction' is supposed to make him seem evil, despite the fact that like. of course the bakenezumi are going to die for the cause of freedom. humans in real life die because an army recruiter whispered the word in their ear.

and when squealer does revolt, instantly humans decide that ALL bakenezumi need to be eradicated, despite the fact that many colonies were allied AGAINST squealer. even kiromaru's years of famously loyal service arent enough to change the humans' minds. they strip him naked like a dog and chain him in prison while continuing to demand he grovel for them. saki saves his life and he works with them to try to take out the Fiend in squealer's service, but lets examine how the narrative treats kiromaru here. clearly it wants to say his treatment was unwarranted, he's just as sentient and worthy of respect as anyone else, but his ultimate fate is to be killed in a plan that HINGED on his death. that was the best we could get for him. decades of loyalty despite recognizing the futility of the bakenezumi's existence, and his reward is to be abandoned by the people he served and killed to protect his oppressors.

but surely in the aftermath of the war against humanity, saki will do something to fix the situation right? well, not in any visible way. saki works to prevent kiromaru's allied colonies' queens from being killed (no word on if the surviving members survive or not, she only promised to save the queens), but thats just maintaining the status quo. instead of driving bakenezumi to extinction, certain loyal factions are graciously permitted to remain in servitude. their continued oppression is their reward. and it's not through anything they couldve done. no act of the oppressed could possibly save them, if kiromaru's reputation couldnt save him. it was only through the grace and mercy of Human Saki that divine punishment could be avoided.

and humans dont even THINK about changing their views on this. theyre just as sure of their own superiority as they were before. squealer is given a farce of a trial. his impassioned cry of "We are humans!" is met with cruel laughter and he is sentenced to Eternal Torture, while his followers are presumably wiped out. in memory of the event, a museum is built where visitors can come and see the crude weaponry of the bakenezumi, the funny helmet he used to wear, and his quivering, tortured flesh piled in a flask. his torment is reduced to a mere curiosity. saki kills him in a fit of mercy, but how many months did he remain in that state while they built a hall around him?

and perhaps the most fascinating part of this is that like. our heros dont change their sense of superiority, either. saki's comphet boyfriend discovers that the bakenezumi were created by adding mole rat DNA to the DNA of Actual Real Humans without psychic powers until they looked inhuman enough to be killed without triggering the death feedback. saki experiences a momentary horror as she realises she's been massacring Real Humans, but she's quickly comforted by comphet boyfriend, who reassures her that she doesnt Actually see them as the same race, does she? of course not. they may have been human once, but they are not now! they are instead Subservient.

despite saki hoping that in the future the world Does Better, there's no thought given to what that might look like. she's dreaming of a better world in the most empty way possible. its the same world, but there's a sticker on it that says 'new and improved!'. and im not sure how im supposed to feel about it.

#maybe another time ill talk about how the author deals with sex and sexuality but this has gotten Long so not right now #shinsekai yori

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icemankazansky · 1 year

Note

please talk more about neurodivergent mav bc it’s my reason to live n breathe fr

I'm so glad you sent me this ask, because I was asking myself, "Should I make a real post about this?" and then you came and answered the question for me.

Maverick Mitchell is Neurodivergent

Very briefly, for anyone who has questions: The term "neurodivergent" refers to someone whose brain works differently than the majority of people ("neurotypicals.") While neurodiversity is by definition diverse, there are hallmarks of neurodivergence that are common in the majority of neurodivergent people. I'm not here to make definitive statements about neurodiversity; I'm speaking about my read on one, particular character. This is an opinion post. I will also be referring to my own experience as neurodivergent, because this is not a scholarly article and it's my blog, so I'm kind of thinking of it as a 30-some-year longitudinal study.

mav·er·ick /ˈmav(ə)rik/ noun

The definition of "maverick" is, "an unorthodox or independent-minded person," which I fucking love when we're talking about Maverick Mitchell as neurodivergent, because that's literally how he got his name: By thinking differently. That is the definition of neurodivergence, and one of its hallmarks is thinking creatively.

"I'll hit the brakes; he'll fly right by."

Maverick approaches flying creatively. It serves him well, but he's censured for it more than once by authority figures who don't understand the way he thinks. "Aircraft one performs a split S? That's the last thing you should do.... What were you thinking at this point?"

Charlie doesn't understand Maverick's thought process, because it's dissimilar from her own. Neurotypicals often have difficulty understanding or anticipating the thoughts of neurodivergents, and vice versa. (Though both groups can read and predict the thought processes of members of their own group with the same level of accuracy.) Maverick has difficulty explaining his own thought process to her, which is a common neurodivergent experience, because it's loud and busy in there, and my brain just makes connections that I can't always express. A reminded me of B which reminded me of C which reminded me of D and now we're on X and it happened in a split second, and no, I'm not sure how we got here. But that's not what he tells her. What he says is: "There's no time to think up there. If you think, you're dead."

Which leads me to my next point: Neurodivergence can also account for Maverick's motto: "Don't think; just do." Many neurodivergents have strong intuitions, and they often believe their intuition first. Additionally, given the right circumstances, neurodivergents are capable of intense and sustained focus, to the point where the world outside the target just kind of fades away. Neurodivergent thinking is also characterized by being observant, detail-focused, and a good problem solver. If you're intensely focused, and that's how your brain works naturally, then you just take in all these details and the pieces of the problem, and your brain sorts it for you automatically, and you do whatever you're doing like muscle memory. Show the math. Well, I can't, but I got to the right answer, didn't I?

Impulse Control and Emotional Regulation

"Time to buzz the tower, Goose."

Neurodivergence is often characterized by poor impulse control and emotional regulation. We know Maverick has poor impulse control. There are multiple instances across the films where someone lists his many impulsive actions that felt good in the moment but resulted in negative consequences large and small. It's not that Maverick does not know that, for example, buzzing the tower will result in immediate negative consequences. This is not brand new information. He knows. It's just that the impulse to do it is stronger than the voice of logic telling him not to, and he has never learned to control his impulses. Honestly, I have no idea what this feels like for neurotypical people. I feel a difference between a want or a desire and an impulse. Like, "I want a vanilla coke right now. That sounds amazing." I feel desire, and maybe I'm disappointed if I cannot acquire the object of my desire, but it's a relatively small and manageable feeling. An impulse is not. An impulse is a huge feeling, and it's not just emotional; I feel it physically in my body, both this emotional and physical desperate discomfort that I cannot extinguish without Doing the Thing. In many instances, I know I should not Do the Thing. My brain provides all sorts of reasons why I should not Do the Thing. But that doesn't diminish the impulse at all. I cannot feel better until I Do the Thing. Often, once the high of Doing the Thing is over, I have regrets. Those regrets create kind of an impulse hangover, but this feeling (and even the knowledge that I will have this feeling in the immediate future) does not in any way dissuade me from Doing the Thing. You can learn impulse control. It is a skill you can acquire. Maverick has not acquired this skill. And neither have I.

Poor emotional regulation is another hallmark of neurodivergence. It is more difficult to begin with because neurodivergents tend to emotional extremes, so the emotions are much bigger than the ones felt day-to-day by neurotypicals.

"I will fire when I am goddamn good and ready, you got that?"

(Emotional regulation is not just about controlling your anger, but this is the example that I have at hand.) Some people have emotions. My emotions have me. They pilot this craft. I am years into actively working on emotional regulation, and a lot of the time I find myself completely controlled by my feelings, and not the other way around. Maverick has this problem, too. Was his reaction to Sundown above appropriate and proportional to the situation? Probably not. Was it necessary to jump in Ice's face in the locker room after a brief argument? Probably not. But if you don't run your emotions, they run you.

He also has the correlating problem, which is numbing yourself out. Your emotions are too big and you can't control them, so you swallow them, push them down so far that all you feel is numb. Empty. Hollow. It can be like a seesaw: Emotions get too big, cause you distress, so you suppress them; now you feel numb. The other long-term problem with poor emotional regulation is that if you don't deal with your emotions, you can't get rid of them. The treatment for PTSD is processing your trauma. Unpacking it, dealing with every detail, feeling every bit of emotion that's attached. (I just did this last year. It's called prolonged exposure therapy, and it is absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done on purpose.) In the first film, Maverick is still carrying the trauma of his parents' death; in the second, he's still carrying the trauma of Goose's death and losing Bradley. If you don't process your trauma, you have to keep it. That's what PTSD is.

Differences in Social Skills and Awareness

This is where I started the discussion of Mav being neurodivergent the other day. A lot of Maverick's problems with the establishment of the Navy can be attributed to neurotypicals not understanding his creative thinking, or to problems caused by his poor impulse control and emotional regulation, but I think most of it is probably attributable to this. Neurodivergents socialize differently than neurotypicals, and they often have difficulty reading the nuances and unspoken cues of neurotypical social situations. Cain asks Maverick why he hasn't been promoted above captain, and Maverick tells him that he's, "where he belongs" (meaning he doesn't want to stop flying full-time), but in truth ranks above captain require a lot of diplomacy, tact, and social sensitivity, and these are not skills Maverick has. (Which is not a bad thing, unless he's trying to do Ice's job. They have different skill sets; that's not where Maverick belongs.)

Navigating the social minefield of the Navy is more of a large picture issue, so I think that the best examples of Maverick's differences in social skills and awareness are small moments.

"I believe the admiral is asking a rhetorical question."

Maverick does not pick that up. He knows what a rhetorical question is, and he adjusts his behavior when Warlock clues him in, but Maverick cannot pick up the small, unspoken cues that Cyclone is giving to indicate it is a rhetorical question. Maverick takes Cyclone's speech in a very straight-forward manner: He asked a question, so I'm going to answer the question. Neurodivergents often take speech at face value, having difficulty with figures of speech such as metaphor and colloquialisms, because they expect people to say what they mean and mean what they say. There are other cues that neurodivergents pay attention to when communicating, but they're emotional and intuitive, not social or situational. Neurodivergents tend to express themselves honestly and so expect honesty in return. Euphemisms and pussyfooting for the sake of niceties or any other reason is not a natural instinct in neurodivergent communication. "Tact is just not saying true stuff. I'll pass." (That's Cordelia Chase, not Maverick Mitchell, but it's the vibe here.)

Neurodivergence is just your brain working differently than most people's. Like all things, it has its benefits and its drawbacks. But it affects every part of your life and how you live it, because it's how you see and make sense of the world. Maverick Mitchell's neurodivergence makes him who he is.

#asks answered #top gun discourse #maverick mitchell #neurodivergent tag #long post #adhd spokesmodel maverick mitchell

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happyinjection · 1 year

Text

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 2 “A Perfect Day for Vijay’s Curry” (2/2)♦️♣️

Due to hunger, the High Card gang had been distracted from work and grew restless… And at last, to the long-awaited lunchtime!

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1532195572785917952?s=20&t=xWt_Py0aL7VOnc3lKVaB_A

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

After watching Finn, who gobbled down his food with the vigor of a healthy teenage boy, I continued preparing for lunch.

Soon it was almost noon. I returned to the showroom from the kitchen space to see how everyone were doing.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore!”

Wendy was hunched heavily over her desk, arms outstretched.

“It’s been smelling so good since a while ago, doesn’t it feel like torture?”

Leo stopped typing on the keyboard and shot her a sharp look. “Oi, can’t you see that clock? It’s not lunch break yet. Focus on your job, or I’ll cut your paycheck.”

Wendy returned her gaze to the paperwork in front of her with a look of utter disdain.

However, after a moment, Leo also stole a glance at the kitchen as though making sure. He must be hungry as well. I was constantly impressed by how he managed to keep everyone in check despite his young age.

“You guys must’ve really loved Vijay’s curry, don’t you?”

This time it was Chris who spoke up. He was leaning far back against the couch with his legs swung out. A laptop sat on his thighs. His crimson jacket suit was draped over the couch and his tie was loosened.

Once again Wendy snapped up from her paperwork.

“I don’t eat any other curry, except Vijay’s curry! Otherwise it would be akin to betrayal!”

“Uh-huh~ talk about facts.”

Leo slammed on his desk. “Didn’t I tell you all to focus on working.”

Nonchalantly, Chris turned to me with his arms folded behind his head. “The one we had last month was exceptionally good, wasn’t it~ What was the name again? Something that sounds like papala papa?”

“It’s palak paneer.”

Chris soundlessly mouthed, “that’s what I meant,” while pointing his finger at me. I carried on with my explanation.

“It’s a curry made from spinach and white cheese. This curry is highly nutritious because it contains no animal products except dairies. During the boiling process, to make sure that the spinach retains its green color, it is important to take special measures such as—”

“G-got it, got it. I didn’t mean to ask about such details, actually…”

Chris turned his attention back to his laptop in a somewhat flustered manner. I had thought that he was genuinely interested in the topic, but it seemed that I misunderstood his intentions.

At that instant, Finn, who was sitting across from Chris, jerked up from his seat. Up until then, he had been typing on a laprop using only his index fingers, and each of those two fingers went comically rigid in an erect position all of a sudden.

“Hang on! Tell me we’re not having that papala paneer today. There’s no way I’m gonna eat a spinach curry!”

Beads of sweat could be seen forming on Finn’s forehead, probably because he wasn’t yet used to operating a computer. It was likely that he had never touched one before he joined the corporation. I offered him a warm smile.

“It should be palak paneer, Finn. And don’t worry, today’s curry has no vegetables put in. Though, I don’t suppose you’ve got a problem with beans?”

“Beans are okay! You’re a genius~ Vijay!”

“Watch your mouth, Finn!”

Before I knew it, Wendy had got to her feet, her hands pushing flat on the desk. Finn quietly mumbled something incomprehensible as he curled into himself.

“You little brat, such an attitude you have toward your senior—”

Chris interrupted her with the flailing of his hands. “Whoa, whoa there, Wendy-san. You’ll have to forgive my charming self for this small error—”

“Since you’re apparently unable to give him a proper lesson, I’ll take it upon my own hands instead! Listen, Leo, I believe we need to replace Finn’s mentor with—”

It was Leo’s turn to stand up.

“Enough dilly-dallying, motherfuckers! How many times should I repeat that we’re still on work hours?! You’re all getting paid to do your job! These paperwork won’t sort themselves ou—argh, shit, now it’s already 12!”

“Yaay! Lunchtime!” Finn snapped his laptop closed and didn’t waste a beat before running off to the kitchen. Wendy and Chris were hot on his trail. The sequence of events left Leo, who remained at his desk with fists shaking in suppressed anger, all by himself.

“Come on, Leo, let’s catch up with them.”

“…..”

“Or, would you rather continue working until we finish the rest of our paperwork?”

“….No, I’m going now.”

From the kitchen, I could make out three distinct voices exchanging friendly banters. Leo followed them inside.

--Ever since Finn joined us, our workplace had become more lively. With the presence of a junior by his side, Chris had started showing his caring side more often. Similarly, Wendy, who was known to be hardworking and uptight, had begun to soften in both her expressions and behavior. The only thing which failed to change for the better was perhaps Leo’s blood pressure.

I beelined for my desk as I pulled out a silver spray bottle from my apron’s front pocket and sprayed some water at Justin’s pot sitting on one corner of said desk.

“I’m off to fix lunch for everyone. See you later.” And then, I walked over to the kitchen.

Speaking of, I might need to apologize to Finn later, because even though today’s curry looked like an ordinary masala chicken curry on first glance, the truth was it had a gratuitous amount of vegetables mixed in. When I said that it contained no vegetables, what I honestly meant was there were no visible vegetables in the soup.

I felt a bit guilty for lying, but I did this for his own sake, really.

For the time being, I would simply let him get used to it little by little. Surely, there would come a day where he wakes up and discovers how delicious vegetables could be.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

#highcard #high card #short story #hcss #vijay kumar singh #leo constantine pinochle #wendy sato #chris redgrave #finn oldman #translation

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oneprompt · 2 years

Note

Hello dear! ♥╣[-_-]╠♥

I have a request for you if u don't mind! (｡・//ε//・｡)

Can i please ask for a scenario with Shanks and Law when they first meet fem! s/o that is physically the stereotyped version of the little short girl with a cute face but when they spend just the tiniest amount of time with her they immediately realize that her personality isn't even close to be compared her appearance cuz she's more of like a talkative, action-oriented, enthusiastic, and out-going type of person and they're just so perplexed lmao.

Like for Shanks it could be when he was at Party's and she was there just animatedly telling Makino how she nearly fell of a tree cuz she thought she had some insect in her skirt like what she was even doing on a tree?? Insp prompt: “this sounds like you’re flirting with me.” “…i have been trying to do that for three years now." " .... B-but i though u just wanted to club trees with me..?"

And for Law I cannot imagine an other scenario than her being a strawhat and him being 'forced' in staying with them because of the alliance lmao. To the point to suspecting her being Luffy's sister or something, but also it would get him off guard cuz SHE is NOT LOGICAL! Lol Insp prompt: “you’re cute..” “what?” “i said you look like a fruit.” “that doesn’t even make any sense.. *confused*”

Of course you can change them as you want boss 😉!

I hope you have fun writing them 💜 and please feel free to delete the ask if you don't want to do them! 🌻

authors note : hello , darling <3 what a cute request this is ...! and it gives me an excuse to write self indulgent girly stuff ahem ..! i hope you enjoy them <3

Shanks x F! Reader : Finding out cute, femme reader is rowdy.

- When Shanks first meets you, he’s shocked that a woman of your image is roaming the seas. Adorable face that looks like it could break like porcelain, matching your fragile looking figure. Frilly clothing, full of pastels and floral patterns... What the hell made you want to live the pirate life? Not that being feminine is a problem, quite the contrary. Shanks loves women, so, of course he loves women that really tap into their girly sides. Although, that’s what he thought when the day had just begun, when he and his crew first met you.

- Being the ladies man he is, Shanks is gracious enough to invite you to feast with his crew. A new friend calls for a banquet, wouldn’t you agree? But once you touch the food and booze, Shanks is soon to realize he misjudged you. Really misjudged you. Your attitude catches him off guard when you agree to a drinking contest with Yasopp, clutching a gallon of beer in your prim, well taken care of hands. The way you guzzle back the liquor, managing to win the competition... Shanks is flabbergasted. He can’t believe you can do such a thing...! He can’t believe he finds this revelation to be, well... hot..! A girly girl who also shares similar interests and the same attitude as him? Oh, he’s gone.

- After that night, Shanks always invites you to do fun stuff with him. Although... You usually end up biting off more then Shanks anticipated. “Hey, Y/n! Wanna go bully Blackbeards crew?” “Duh! I thought we were doing that already? I totally took all their treasure.” Sweat drips down Shanks’ forehead when he hears you say things like that. “You what?” You never seem to share his views or worries, with things like that. Shanks isn’t a huge worrywart, so it takes a lot for him to grow hesitant. Yet, you never fail to make that feeling arise in him. Shanks may be head over heels for you, but sometimes he feels like your babysitter. He hates feeling that way, so he acts as stupidly as he can. Benn can be the babysitter, Shanks hates having to be the voice of reason...! Even if he is his own crews captain

- He tries so hard to flirt with you, its almost pathetic... You never manage to catch onto any of his gestures. Shanks can’t help but grow frustrated with your obliviousness. I mean, he could do what every grown man should do and full on just tell you about his feelings. But whats the fun in that? Shanks lives for the chase, for the flirting... After all, those are the funnest parts of romance. Who cares for that sweet, slow burn? Not Shanks...! “You’re looking hot today, Y/n!” You’ll stare at him, expression riddled with confusion. “...? It’s not even warm today, how could i be sweating?” The booming laughter of his crew is enough to bruise his ego, as Shanks has clearly embarrassed himself. Not just in front of his crush, but his friends. Sigh. He’ll never hear the end of this, will he? His flirtatious comments are so blatantly obvious, please notice him.

- Shanks totally goes to Makino with his concerns about his love life. I mean, what would his crew know about love? Yasopp left his wife to get sick, afterall. Makino always tells Shanks the same thing. “You know, Y/n! She needs straightforwardness, she’s not the type to beat around the bush.” Shanks can’t help but frown ever so slightly. He really has to do that, doesn’t he? I mean... That is better then just waiting it out, i guess. Unless you reject him, of course. With the help of Makino, Shanks puts together the perfect confession! Equipped with flowers and all. You may be reckless, but your love for cute things is nothing but sincere. And, well... Shanks wants to show he cares for you and your interests.

- But before Shanks can confess, you run up to him. “You have a crush on me!?” Your voice is loud, echoing out through the ship. Shanks’ face illuminates with a slight blush. How the hell did you know that? The crew doesn’t care enough to interfere with that, and the only other person who knows is-. Makino...! That gossipy blabbermouth! “Damnit, Y/n! I had flowers and everything! I rehearsed all that confession stuff for nothing?” You two just stand there for a moment before breaking into laughter, grins full of amusement. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You can’t help but ask, inbetween your giggling. Shanks’ smile turns upside down, his eyes just full of exhaustion at that comment. “I’ve been flirting with you since you joined the crew.” Of course, you’re at a loss for words when he says that. You ignore the annoyed gaze on his face, your face going pink. “A-aw! I like you too!” What a mess of a confession. Truly fitting for the both of you.

Law x F! Reader : Finding out cute, femme reader is rowdy.

- When he first saw you, he was shocked to see you apart of a group like the Straw Hats. You were simply adorable, hair tucked into an intricate style, dress puffy and sweet. No way were you apart of such a freakish crew.. You were probably intelligent, a total sweetheart... Why did Luffy get the pleasure of having you around, and why did you ever pick this crew out of all the ones in the Grandline? Well, Law was certain to crack the case. Even if the answers he got weren’t completely ideal...

- During your time in Wano with both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, Law finally got to spend time with you. But... His idealized image of you crumbled entirely the moment you opened your mouth. “Oi, Traguy! Your kimono looks weird, why are you still wearing your hat with it? It’s mismatched! I’m hungry... Can we find Sanji? I’m hungryyy...!” This couldn’t be... The beautiful, adoring Y/n... No way did Law fall for a copy and paste of Luffy. It made no sense... Even that Nami girl had more etiquette then you. Oh god, Law needed to purge this feeling for you out of his system. Sure, you were gorgeous and appeared all dainty and cute but... No, no, no, no. Feeling this way for somebody so obnoxious felt almost illegal, in Law’s eyes. How did he get fooled so badly? Law was meant to be worrying about scalping any more info about the country and it’s state, but he was far too engulfed in his own internal crisis...

- And your vanity in the Wano country made it all the more difficult. If Law hadn’t found you pretty before, it was sure to skyrocket as Kinemon styled you perfectly to suit the countries standards. Put together like a Wano noble, kimono decorated with the image of koi fish, obi tight and possessing a large, well tied bow. “Traguy, look! Aren’t i pretty? Hey, hey?” Law can’t tell if you’re aware of your effect on him. Are you trying to fluster him? Or are you just a moron? Law will try to ignore your question, but you never fail to return to asking, tone growing more and more eager each time. “Fine! You... are. You look pretty.” He refuses to look at you, immediately turning away from you and marching away. You beam, chasing after your ally. “Wait for me!” Everyone watches the two of you closely, all sharing glances. “Soooo, they totally like eachother, right?” Usopp asks, “oh, 100%.” Franky smiles widely, nodding at Usopp’s words. And of course, Sanji’s sulking in the back. His beloved Y/n-kyun... shes slipping through his fingers...!

- Even so, he still caught himself staring at you. Law often found himself admiring your smile, listening closely to your rapid words and loud laughter. God, it gave him a headache but his heart felt the opposite. Law felt his chest tighten, face going hot, every time you said anything. Even if you unknowingly said something rude or ignorant, Law couldn’t muster up the will to tell you to shut up. Your energy still felt so pure, so innocent. Nothing you did seemed to shatter his feelings for you, even as you slurped up your bowl of soba like a slob, or threw one of your crewmates into a headlock just for the fun of it. Law’s heart never ceased to adore you. His brain wanted nothing more then to see you as another Luffy, but his heart simply couldn’t. Sighh..

- Law refuses to ever tell you how he feels, let alone even consider doing so. You two are allies by obligation, nothing more. So what if he thinks about you 24/7? So what if he’s constantly staring at you in blind daylight? He sees no reason to confess. Not just because of well, the obvious points... He just finds romance pointless. As a pirate, Law just sees it as a waste of time. I mean, at least he did. But then he met you, and you flipped that whole perspective around. Law hates it! You have him picturing a more wholesome life in his head, full of fake, lovey dovey scenarios. You have him questioning what its like to be kissed, how your hands would feel in his... Totally not pirate professional of him to think about all these things. Damn you for invading his deepest, most personal thoughts...!

- “This is stupid, why do i like her so much?” Law asks himself, in the solitude he believes is within the bath house. “Ooo! Who do you like?” The moment Law hears your voice, he considers if drowning would be a painful death. What are the odds of you showing up to the empty bath at the same moment he let those words slither out of his mouth? Curse the wrong place, wrong time trope! Law simply ignores you, sinking further into the warm water. “Cmon Traguy! Can you at least tell me what shes like?” You sound excited to hear any hints, as you stand by the bath, your yukata hiding you from the shame of public nudity. Law lets out a harsh, deep sigh. You won’t give up unless he says something, will you...? “... Loud, never shuts up, seems to love terrorizing me at every turn. Oh, and she eats food like a dog.” The building is quiet once more, as you absorb and process the info to the best of tour abilities. Meanwhile, Law is planning the best escape route. He’d rather die then be near you, once you realize you’re the girl he likes so intimately. A loud gasp comes out of your mouth, making Law’s eyes widen. Oh god... Here it comes. “You like Luffy!?” You exclaim, eyes as wide as saucers as you stare down at the man. No way you were that stupid. You were just playing things up so he’d say your nams. Right? Right...? Law opens his mouth to object, to speak the truth but he doesn’t. He simply rises from the bath, towel snug around his waist. “I need a drink.”

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memestockpile · 7 months

Text

master and commander (2003) feel free to change as needed.

come on, come on. it's all right.

starboard bow, ahoy!

thought i heard something.

you're officer of the watch.

you must make a decision.

rouse up! rouse up!

you did the right thing, [name].

quit your dawdling!

we stand tall on the quarterdeck, son.

run up the colors.

for god's sake, don't drop anything!

don't worry, lad.

reload and give 'em hell!

we're fish in a barrel.

pipe down.

they'll not find us in here.

well done, lad.

just a broken arm.

you're in very good hands.

i'm doing everything i can.

let me take a look at that brow of yours.

quite fortunate, really.

i have no idea what it is you're talking about.

the simple fact is we were soundly beaten.

am i not correct?

we're not going home.

there's not a moment to lose.

is it true they put the last stitch through your nose? [name] said when you die, they stitch you in your hammock with the last stitch in your nose, just to make sure you're not asleep.

it's all right. it's just the laudanum speaking.

i've never seen a braver patient.

poor darling. never mind, soon we'll have you fixed up.

there's something might interest you here.

there's enough of my blood in the woodwork for the ship to almost be a relation.

your knowledge is beyond question.

show me a beetle and i'll tell you what it's thinking.

you're not a pennyweight of use gawping here!

you should read the book.

what a fascinating modern age we live in.

hello, darling! how much for a kiss?

quick, mate.

i remember it like it was yesterday.

to the lesser of two weevils.

the lord taketh and the lord giveth away.

[singing] farewell and adieu to you, spanish ladies.

this is the second time you've done this to me. there will not be a third.

wouldn't want to lose you.

mind what the captain told you.

we caught a fish.

now, tell me that wasn't fun.

you need more than luck against a phantom.

what are you doing, sitting up all night, catching your death of cold?

that's the last of the coffee.

don't count your eggs before they're in the pudding.

no lounging, boy!

there's enough water in the grog.

as a friend, i would say that i have never once doubted your abilities.

therein lies the problem.

you're not accustomed to defeat.

it's not a question of pride. it is a question of duty.

be as satiric as you like.

viewing the world through a microscope is your prerogative.

i will grind whatever grist the mill requires to fulfil my duty.

they're said to be full of strange and wonderful beasts.

we'll have to stop for food and water.

i promise you, during that time, you can wander at will, collecting all manner of things dear to your little heart's content.

disgusting!

by all that's holy, i think that's unknown to science.

well, i'll be damned.

break your heart, it would.

[name], have you forgotten your promise?

i have known you to spend hours staring into a deserted bird's nest.

we do not have time for your damned hobbies!

i can harness the wind, but i ain't its goddamn creator.

i have never known such a run of bad luck.

it's from the bible, that.

i'm rather understanding of mutinies.

i, for one, am opposed to authority. it is an egg of misery and oppression.

shh. not so loud.

any time tonight, that ghost ship's gonna turn up.

you gave me such a start.

are you feeling better now?

you've always been very kind to me.

the simple truth is, not all of us become the men we once hoped we might be.

i'm so sorry, man.

it's just to get my bearings, that's all.

it'd be a lot easier if i were on dry land.

i'll manage. you'll see.

i just need to stretch my legs.

a spare pair of steady hands wouldn't go amiss.

do you have the constitution for this?

i have been amongst and around wounds all my life.

it would appear that you have the makings of a naturalist.

name a shrub after me. something prickly and hard to eradicate.

damn, you've got good eyes, [nickname].

i know what you want to say. and my answer is no.

they mean to take us as a prize.

though we be on the far side of the world, this ship is our home.

surprise is on our side.

care for a cigar?

oh, here we go again.

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hyprfixate · 1 year

Text

hold on tight↝ [L.F] :: teaser

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: you're unhappy. you're almost certain that there isn't anything in this world that can make you happier, and you're right. what you don't account for, however, is something otherworldly flipping your life on its head. or, should you say someone

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee felix x reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 950

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: angst, non idol au, fantasy au kind of, felix is an angel literally and figuratively, mentions of suicidal thoughts without going into detail, reader is depressed, she/her pronouns used for the reader, slowburn, strangers to lovers, putting angst again bc thats how much angst there is.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hello! this is a small teaser for a much longer upcoming fic that i'm still in the process of writing! i haven't written fanfic in a very long time so i apologize if i'm rusty lol. i hope you guys enjoy! :)

quickly skimmed, ignore typos lol

Felix doesn’t remember when he became the front desk worker for purgatory.

He assumes it was a while ago, since his fellow co-workers have all come and gone, some of them eons older than him. He’s always been “their little Lixie”, and while most of them have gone to a place he can’t reach, the nickname still lives on. Their little Lixie remains seated behind a mahogany desk, clicking away at his computer and waiting for the next person to approach him.

Felix is the first face a person sees when they die. Guy, the one in charge of it all, says it’s because of his contagious grin and never ending happiness. Felix could light up a room with his smile alone if he wanted to. That kind of energy helps people calm down– makes them feel at ease. Another perk about him is that he never feels lonely, despite how desperately lonely the job is. Felix knows that even though nobody stays, there is always someone new to talk to.

Like now.

“Hi!” he chirps to the person walking up to his desk. They’re dressed in pajamas with a severe case of bedhead, so from the looks of it they were probably sleeping when it happened. They look scared, and he pouts.

“Are you okay?”

“Where am I?”

He leans back in his seat, pointing to the gold plaque above his head. “Purgatory.”

“I’m dead?”

It’s the same script every time someone comes in, but his soft smile never wavers. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. It’s not really so bad here, you know?”

He pulls himself back up to his computer. “Could I get your name?”

Stuttering, the person gives him their name. He presses a few keys on his keyboard before the computer dings softly, setting off the printer next to him.

“Oof.” He grimaces, eyes racing across the lines on the screen. “Heart attack did you in, yeah? That’s always the worst way to go. Have you had heart problems before?”

“Yeah,” they stutter out. “But I never-- no one told me they could kill me.”

Felix peers up through his long lashes, giving them another small smile. He knows it’s best to move on, rather than walk them through the speech about how everything and anything can kill you, so it’s a bit silly to expect that something as serious as heart issues would just be swept under the rug. Most people don’t appreciate being lectured when they die. Instead, he pulls the paper from the printer and scans it quickly.

“Seems like you have some business to attend to first,” he hums. “You left behind two kids and a partner, I see. They’re going to need your presence in the next few days. Afterwards you’ll get to go upstairs.”

“Like, Heaven?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, that’s what it is,” he smiles. The person in front of him softens at that. He hands them the paper and points at a set of doors on his left. “Go through those double doors and walk down the hall to room 202. Knock and ask for Christopher, tell him Felix sent you.”

He waves, cheeks puffing up in a genuine grin as they wave back and disappear beyond the double doors. Once they’re out of sight, he pulls out his notepad from the desk drawer and scribbles furiously.

No glow, almost faded.

While Felix undoubtedly had a lot of questions about his appearance and business in purgatory, his biggest question was something no one could answer.

Why was he the only one who glowed?

At first, before they got computers in the office, Felix had no idea what he looked like. He knew had soft, sandy brown hair; Guy would always ruffle it and tell him he was handsome, but he didn’t know why he was handsome. Once technology advanced and they got a desktop, that question was answered thanks to the webcam. In addition to noticing his features, Felix also noticed that his body was outlined with a bright, sparkly gold light.

No one else in purgatory had that, not even Guy. Christopher, who worked in the office of external affairs, told Felix it was probably just his happiness manifested into something physical. Christopher himself was covered in tattoos, as he was known through the office for always knowing what to say to comfort people. Felix would agree with that theory, but he’s met countless people just as happy as himself with no glow.

Since then, he’s been keeping a journal of every face who’s walked through his office. Some people were more faded than others-- those were the people who wouldn’t spend too long here. Some people were dark and vivid, like the image of a 4K TV screen (not that Felix knew what 4K was, he’d heard about it from a couple visitors and adopted the phrase himself). Those people were usually there for a long time. But no matter how long a person was set to stay, they never had a glow like he did.

He tosses the notepad back into the desk drawer, leaning back into his seat and sighing. He didn’t have much time to himself, though, as the elevator outside the office door dinged.

He leans forward, clearing his throat and running his “script” in his head. He runs his hands through his hair before looking up with a bright smile.

“Hi! Welcome to…”

His voice trails off and his jaw goes slack as his eyes settle on the person in front of him.

Yeah. Felix had seen lots of dead people, sure, but he’d never, ever seen one that glowed like he did.

Until now.

#lee félix #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #skz x reader #lee yongbok x reader #skz felix fic #skz fic #skz x you #fic teaser #kpop fic #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #lee felix fanfic #hyprfics

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

Text

Renruki Week Day 6: Rukia’s Birthday

This is my favorite thing I wrote for this week.

Thanks to @substituted-shinigami for the beta-read and the suggestion about the lost-and-found. 😘

| ao3 | ff.net |

🍡 🎁 💕

“Oi! Oi, Rukia! Rukia, it’s me! Lemme in! C’mon, it’s cold out here!”

Rukia regarded Renji through her eyelashes as she slid open her window to let him in. “Maybe that’s what you get for climbing around the outside of the girls’ dormitory after the sun goes down.”

“I was waiting for your roommate to leave,” Renji excused as he clambered over the sill. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were bright red.

“You know she leaves for her dumb study group at quarter to seven,” Rukia chided. “And where’s the coat I got you?”

The Shin’ou dress code allowed for a special haori to be added to the uniform during the winter months--provided one could afford to purchase one of the damn things from the only shop in town authorized to embroider the school seal on the back. Rukia, a freethinker, had simply liberated a pair of them from the lost-and-found located at the rear of the mess hall.

She knew very well that Renji wouldn’t wear his because he considered it “stolen” (as if the rich kid who had lost it hadn’t just bought another right away), but he appeared to be biting his tongue on that point, for once. “I think that thing must have belonged to the largest student in Shin’ou history,” he complained instead. “No good for climbing.”

“I could get you another one,” Rukia shrugged. “I just figured with the way you’ve been growing lately, you would need it. Speaking of which, where have you been? You weren’t at dinner.”

“I had something to do.” Renji straightened up a little and cleared his throat. “Happy Birthday. Rukia.” He held his hands out in front of him to reveal a slightly crumbled, white pasteboard box.

Rukia’s eyes darted down at the box as she very slowly shut the window. “What is that?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s your present!” Renji retorted. “Take it, already!”

“You better not have spent any money on me, Abarai Renji!” Rukia wound up. “It’s bad enough that you tested into that stupid advanced class so we had to buy two whole sets of school books, but--”

“Oh, shut your trap!” Renji cut her off. “One of the rich assholes down the hall from me came back from New Year’s break with some incredibly heavy furniture his parents wanted him to have, and he gave me some kan to help him haul it up to his room. What he’s gonna do with a whole-ass tea cabinet, I dunno, but that’s his problem. It’s my hard-earned money, and if I want to spend a small part of it doin’ something nice for you on your birthday for once…” he trailed off, his face suddenly going uncertain. “Just take it, wouldja? It’s hardly anything.”

Rukia took the box. It was slightly damp and sticky on the bottom. Carefully, she pulled open the lid. Inside was a skewer of five dango, swimming in a thick glaze of dark brown, mitarashi syrup. “Oh,” she said softly.

“We got that kind once, I think, coming up the South Road,” Renji, who never shut up, was saying. “District 3 or 4, was it? Anyway, I thought I remembered you liking ‘em.” They’d eaten a lot of things for the first time during the long journey up from Inuzuri, armed with a travel stipend from the District 70 Consolidated Shinigami Recruitment Station. Rukia honestly couldn’t recall eating anything she hadn’t liked.

“Mm,” she agreed noncommittally, trying to extract the skewer from its box. The congealed sauce clung stubbornly to the pasteboard. “Are we gonna split it?”

Renji scoffed and flung himself down in her roommate’s desk chair. “It’s your birthday present. All for you.”

“It’s really good,” Rukia insisted, after delicately biting off the top dango. “C’mon, open up! Just one!” She poked it at him.

“It’s yours!” Renji waved his hands defensively.

“It’s my birthday, and that means you should do whatever I tell you to!”

Renji narrowed his eyes. “I do not like where this is going. If I eat one, can we drop this topic?”

“Yes,” Rukia agreed, holding the skewer out to him. “It also means that you have to share all the birthday treats I buy for you on your birthday with me.”

Renji snorted softly. “Okay, fine. Deal.”

Rukia watched him latch one fangy canine onto a dango, and coolly draw it off the skewer before handing it back. Soul King forbid he touch something with his lips that she had. Rukia didn’t care. She’d gotten mostly used to the idea of regular meals, and the necessity thereof, given how hard the Academy worked them. Still, the idea of an after-dinner treat, eaten entirely as a celebration, seemed absolutely unreal.

“You did eat dinner, correct?” she asked sharply as Renji handed her treat back.

He nodded obediently. “Grabbed a bento from the mess.” He stuck out his jaw. “I was worried about getting to the sweet shop before they closed. I hadn’t actually been there before, but one of the upperclassmen gave me directions. You shoulda seen that place. Next time I get a windfall, I’m gonna take you. They had these things called ‘parfaits’. It’s a big glass full of fruit and custard and syrup. You could get them in all sorts of combinations. I wanted to get you one, but I knew there’s no way I could get one back here without making a giant mess of it.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” Rukia sighed, settling into her own desk chair across from him. She put her feet up on his knees, the pasteboard box balanced on her lap to catch any drips. “What do I need all that for? Save your money for something practical, like the new uniforms you’ll need when you outgrow yet another set.”

Renji was quiet for a long moment. “Was the dango okay?" he finally asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Rukia squinted at him for a moment. At the rate she was stuffing it into her face, it seemed pretty obvious that it was just fine. Then she rewound the last bit of their conversation and realized what he was getting at. Oh, this insecure fool! “It was exactly the proper amount of ridiculous,” she announced. “It is also very delicious.” She paused. They had never been in the habit of using social niceties. If she and Renji had to thank each other for the things they did for one another, there wouldn’t be time for anything else in the day. On the other hand, Renji’s friends thanked each other for everything, and she’d heard him awkwardly trying to return the gesture. It probably wouldn’t kill her to give it a try. “Thank you,” she said, trying to force as much sincerity into her voice as possible and still not confident that he would buy it.

The corner of Renji’s mouth tipped up. “You’re welcome,” he replied softly. He folded his hands in his lap, but then reached out one index finger to poke her big toe. “You know what Momo said I should get you?” he said with a wry half smile.

“What?” Rukia asked, immediately suspicious.

“You remember all those pretty hair pins she had when we went to her house for New Year’s? Flowers and stuff? She loaned you one?”

“It was two weeks ago, of course I remember,” Rukia replied dryly.

“‘You should get her one, Renji,’ Momo told me. ‘Rukia should have something pretty of her own.’”

It was a good thing Rukia’s mouth was full of dango, because it covered the fact that her heart had abruptly stopped beating.

Maybe Momo had said that. It was perfectly possible. But whether or not she had, Renji wasn’t telling her this to make fun of Momo. He would never make fun of sweet, kindhearted Momo. He was telling her this because he thought she should have something pretty of her own. If he had just said so, Rukia would have been obligated to yell at him and no further information could be gained from that. No, he wanted her to know, and he also wanted to know how she would feel if he did something like that. Rukia felt her cheeks growing warm. How dare he be so direct with her, on her own birthday, no less!

“What would I do with such a thing?” she finally muttered. “That Momo, always getting ahead of herself. I don’t even own a decent kimono to wear it with.”

“Mm,” Renji nodded in agreement. “True.” He stretched his arms behind his head. “You will someday, though. When we’re both in the Court Guards and have plenty of money.”

Rukia sucked a bit of the sweet, salty syrup off of her pinky. In ordinary circumstances, she would drop it. Change the subject. She liked to think of herself as a practical girl, a girl who lived in the moment. A girl who didn’t bother over things she couldn’t have. But it was her birthday, and Renji had done something delightfully impractical just for her, so perhaps she could indulge in a tiny bit of wanting. After all, he had basically asked.

“What I could really use,” she explained, pushing her hair back toward her temples, “is a pair of those clippy things that Hinamori’s roommate wears. To keep my hair out of my face.”

Renji frowned, trying to remember. “They’re shaped like little birds or something?”

“I think she has a bunch of them,” Rukia sputtered, not wanting to imply that she spent too much time staring at Momo’s roommate, who was very cute. “I’m sure they make plain ones, too.”

“Noted,” Renji said, with a curt jerk of his chin.

“You know. If there is some gift-giving occasion at some future date,” Rukia quickly amended. She picked up her dango skewer again and waved it at him. “This was a very nice birthday gift and I am very happy with it!”

“I’m very glad,” he replied.

Rukia started to bite off another dango, but paused. “The visit has been nice, too. Haven’t seen too much of you lately. Sometimes I think you’re going to forget about me, between your nerd classes and side hustles and vibrant social life.”

Renji laughed. “You know that would never happen.”

Rukia stuffed a dango in her mouth and smiled at him as she chewed it. “Yeah,” she replied. “I know.”

---

A few years later. About forty or so.

“It’s bullshit that you have to leave my birthday party early,” Rukia informed Renji, piling three strawberry daifuku onto his plate. “Take some of these, they’re really good.”

“I’m real sorry, but we’ve got a big patrol coming in from a rough time, and I told your brother I’d do the check-in so he didn’t have to leave your party.”

“You’re too nice,” Rukia grumped, trying to wedge a cream puff onto the already overloaded plate.

Renji snorted. “We’re going out tomorrow, anyway. I’m gonna let you drink me under the table and beat me at arm wrestling, right? That’s the party that counts.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m just glad I got to stop in at all,” Renji admitted. He glanced around at the room full of two hundred of Byakuya’s closest friends. “Not really my crowd, y’know?” Slowly, his eyes slipped down the length of her body. “I am glad I got to see you in that kimono.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You look real pretty. Rukia.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “It was a birthday present. From Brother.” She flapped the sleeves at him, long enough to trail on the floor. It was a rich blue, embroidered with cranes perched amid snow-covered pines. “This thing is ridiculous. Who could fight in these sleeves?”

“There’s no Kuchiki special technique for that?” Renji arched an eyebrow. “Fighting in the most impractical clothes imaginable and making it look easy?”

He had a point. “I’m still working on that one,” she grouched.

“New hairpin, too?” Renji asked, glancing at the white-feathered crane holding the twist of hair up on one side of her head. “It matches real nice, in any case.”

“Er, yeah,” Rukia admitted, not sure why she felt so shy about it. “He’s…he’s trying, you know? And gifts are something he’s good at.”

Renji smiled at her, his eyes soft. “He is. And even I gotta admit: the man’s got great taste. Look, I gotta bounce.” He glanced down at the towering plate of desserts balanced in his hand. “Thanks, uh, for…this. Should last me through the first half of the shift, at least.”

“Do not give any to those assholes coming back from patrol, no matter how bedraggled they look,” Rukia warned him. “I know what a soft touch you are.”

Renji’s eyes darted down to his mountain of sugar and back up again. “Okay, Rukia,” he lied amiably. “Enjoy the rest of your party. Happy Birthday.” With his free hand, he gave her a good natured thump on the arm, but then suddenly trailed his hand down the length of her sleeve. On some ancient, nearly forgotten con artist instinct, Rukia twisted her hand outward just in time for him to press some small object into her palm, which she immediately pulled up into her voluminous sleeve. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she agreed.

Immediately after Renji departed, she got accosted by the young Noragashi Heir, whose compliments for her new outfit were better phrased, but worse received. It wasn’t for several more hours, until her maid was helping extract her from layers of silk and cotton that she remembered the little paper packet tucked in the sleeve.

If Renji had been trying to be surreptitious, he probably shouldn’t have drawn a screaming Zabimaru head on the wrapping, Rukia decided, after Mikan had finally departed for the evening. It took her a moment to undo the elaborate folding job he’d done on the paper (how he managed, with his giant fingers, she had no idea). Inside, was a little piece of cardstock, with two metal barrettes clipped to it. Each one was decorated with a leaping bunny rabbit-- just the right size to add a little visual interest without being obtrusive. They weren’t delicate or fancy, and in fact, it took Rukia a moment to place the artisan’s mark on the card as a blacksmith in the first district of South Rukongai that Renji liked.

Rukia ran her fingers through her hair, and swept the annoying piece that always hung in her eyes to one side, and secured it with one clip. She shook her head a little, and to her surprise, it stayed. She clipped the second onto the other side, and examined herself in the mirror. She looked mildly silly, but they would certainly keep her hair out of her face while she was leaning over her paperwork.

“Not bad, Abarai,” Rukia murmured, turning her head so she could admire every angle. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

#renrukiweek #renrukiweek2023 #renruki #my writing

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