#like i was the one at fault. i wanted to escape. thankfully i was put in your section. nixx. i was so happy. i cried on the ptm day.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.

All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Saturday, November 4, 2023 

“You want to do what?” 

James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails. 

“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.” 

Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.” 

“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.” 

“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.” 

Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” 

There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left. 

Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?” 

Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.” 

A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.  

“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?” 

“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.” 

Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate. 

Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up. 

“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit. 

“Thank you Logan.” 

However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to. 

The back of the Mercedes garage. 

George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him. 

He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to. 

It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better. 

Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall. 

It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar. 

“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties. 

“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.” 

Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.” 

Yep, that was Lando. 

“Come on, don’t say that.” 

Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me. 

“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.” 

Ouch.

Logan wanted to throw up. 

“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again. 

Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet. 

“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.” 

Oscar stuttered out, “That’s enough Lando.” 

“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.” 

Come on Oscar. 

“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.” 

Oh.

Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.” 

“No need?” Logan whispered to himself. 

“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.” 

There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now. 

“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.” 

“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.” 

He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way. 

The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George. 

“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.” 

“I know you were listening.” 

Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught. 

“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.” 

George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.” 

A scoff escaped from Logan. 

“You’d be the first.” 

George felt his heart drop at the sentence. 

“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” 

“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.” 

Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.” 

“I’m truly sorry Logan.” 

“Sure.” 

George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage. 

He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk. 

Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity. 

The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive. 

However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated. 

One good word would be jealousy. 

And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone. 

He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.

 He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered. 

He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same. 

He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready. 

He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face. 

“Hi Logan.” 

How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could. 

“Hello? Earth to Logan?” 

He quickly shook his head. 

“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde. 

You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked). 

You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?” 

Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“Of course you have.” 

“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.” 

A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh. 

Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up. 

You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.” 

Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed. 

“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.” 

“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.” 

Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible. 

“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?” 

A quiet hum sounded from his phone. 

“Have we made it yet?” 

Silence was his answer. 

“I don’t think we have.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?” 

The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up? 

No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by. 

“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.” 

“Then why have you given up?” 

“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.” 

“I do.” 

Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face. 

When had that gotten there? 

“Logan, listen to me.” 

A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him. 

“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.” 

Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.” 

“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.” 

What was that supposed to mean? 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.” 

Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words. 

“You must like me for me.” 

He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words. 

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?” 

His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him. 

“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.” 

Logan put his head on a pillow. 

“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.” 

“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.” 

He smiled dopily at you. 

“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.” 

A whine-like noise came from your throat. 

“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.” 

“You say that every year!” 

“Ok and?” 

“Goodnight Y/n.” 

“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.” 

You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon. 

But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later. 

Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers. 

He’d show them. 

His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end? 

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend

liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others

logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨

lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair

sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(

logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙

sargeant2 OH MY GOSH

racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*

indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??

log4_ever who is she?

indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)

sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!

loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??

logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??

loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(

billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sergeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula 1 x you #future grid dad lestappen #future grid dad lewis #grid bestie george #lestappen #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #reputations fic #reputations is coming #reputations

[neoameba]

It is necessary to escape the routine sometimes!

F. Toji x Ftm! Reader

Warnings: This is a trans man/boy centered post, but you (fem, gn, and non-trans) can still safely interact with the post. Toji and reader were not a romantic couple before reader turned 18. It's more for comfort, made especially to give those silly smiles.

Summary: Naturally, every rich man needs a heir. And it’s obvious that it wouldn’t be any different for someone who works directly in the Japanese government. That’s where the problem lies. Being the vice president of a country and doing so much for the poorest and most needy people, while taking away unnecessary privileges from rich people, makes his head a target and his family as well.

When [Name] was born, his mother fell ill due to blood loss, and soon died from complications in the surgery that was supposed to save her (it is important to mention that, after her death, a bounty on the woman’s head was announced in the deepest areas of the internet, It is not known whether the mission was accepted). This generated extreme fear in the man and, as a result, he ended up becoming extremely protective of the inheritance that the woman in his life left for him.

All of this only got worse when [Name] revealed he was a trans boy at 15 years old. The reason why the vice president of Japan was even more scared (thankfully) is not because he is trans, but because of what people would do if he found out. Think about it, if people already wish the boy’s death just because he was his son, imagine if they found out that [Name] is a trans boy?

Of course, the man did the impossible to erase [Name’s] old image, to pass him off as a cis boy. Still, it’s difficult to stop the rumor from spreading.

That’s where Toji Fushiguro comes in.

It's curious to think that Toji, the sorcerer killer, could actually be tasked with protecting someone. But that’s exactly what happened, [Name]’s father actually put Toji as the boy’s bodyguard. And this went on for 6 years.

“Hey! Can you stop pulling me, I have legs and they are very functional!”

[Name] says, only to continue being pulled towards some place unknown to him thus far. He didn’t understand anything, and Toji didn’t want to explain what he was doing either.

Finally, the two stop in front of a house. It wasn’t ugly, it just looked like it wasn’t well looked after from the outside.

“Huh? Is this your house?”

“Yes, and I want to introduce you to my son... What was his name...?"

Toji says the last part quietly, but it still gets a low laugh from [Name], who thinks the older man was just joking. Even he knew Megumi's name because Toji said it himself. And after all, who would forget their own child’s name?

As soon as the tallest one opens the door to the house, [Name] is faced with a heart-wrenching sight. There was Toji Fushiguro’s son, eating snacks for breakfast in complete silence and alone, in na environment clearly not prepared for a child

As soon as [Name] sees this, a slap is landed on the head of the man next to him, who moans softly in pain. The slap was weak, but Toji didn’t want to be so mean and say he didn’t feel any pain from the impact.

“How dare you leave a poor little child in these unsanitary conditions?!”

“It’s not my fault if I have to spend the whole day with you. Besides, the kid knows his way around, you see?”

Megumi turns around, looking at his father with disinterest, but then looking at the boy next to him. This time, he seemed more interested, and got up to walk towards the boy.

“... You’re the guy he talks about so much, right? Cool. Nice to meet you.”

Little Fushiguro says, surprising [Name]. It’s a lot of education for just one child (especially for a child who is the son of a man like Toji).

“Nice to meet you too! You're very polite, right?"

When [Name] goes to shake the boy’s hand, he realizes that although it may not seem like it, Toji probably takes care of the boy, as he shows no signs of being thin beyond what is healthy.

"Tell me something, little Megumi...Does Toji take care of you or just leave you to your own devices?"

Megumi shakes [Name]'s hand, and shrugs, indicating that it was a little of both. Obviously Toji pays for food and a few other things, but Megumi is the one who cleans the house and already acts like an adult.

"I'm very busy, if you must know."

"That doesn't give you the right to leave him to his own devices."

"You're really just here to judge, ugh."

Before [Name] could counter argue, he chose to remain silent. He holds Megumi's hand and prepares to tidy up the house and make good, dignified food, since it seems unlikely that Megumi has eaten anything healthy these past few weeks.

"Megumi, let's tidy up this whole house. And you Toji, we'll talk about it later."

Toji seemed to be both unsatisfied and happy. Unsatisfied because he couldn't imagine being scolded like that, and happy to see his son and his boyfriend getting along so well. He sits on the couch as he watches the two boys tidy up the house (and no, he doesn't plan on helping).

And speaking of a boyfriend... He would never have imagined that he would date someone of the same gender as him. He never even considered being with a man, but destiny can always surprise. Everything has been so peaceful after he and [Name] started dating, he can just sit on a couch and watch a good television show while cuddling with his boyfriend. [Name] actually managed to get Toji over the loss of his wife, which is a miracle.

While he is absorbed in his own thoughts, Megumi and [Name] finish tidying everything up. This made for a good few hours, and by the end, both the youngest and oldest boy were dead tired. Megumi goes to his own room and throws himself on the bed, while [Name] throws himself into Toji's lap.

"... That was so tiring... You could have helped!"

"You didn't call me, I didn't think I needed to help with anything."

The man says, as he gently squeezes one of [Name]'s cheeks with his left hand, and with his right hand he squeezes his waist. The smell of cleaning products on [Name]'s clothes were incredibly good, and Toji didn't even remember buying them. He buries his face in the crook of the boy's neck, eliciting a laugh from [Name].

"Of course we needed your help! But it's okay, the food is up to you, go make it soon because your son is hungry. And try to take good care of him, unless you want me to slap you again."

[Name] says, as he gets off Toji's lap. He wanted Toji to make the food so that at least Megumi could eat something his father lovingly made. Well, he still doesn't know that Toji is terrible at cooking.

And everything goes like this. [Name] going to take a shower, only to almost faint when he felt big hands on his waist, Toji burning the food and [Name] having to redo everything together with Megumi, Megumi accidentally revealing that he likes watching Barbie movies, and in the end, everyone watching Barbie in the living room.

Sounds like a perfect day, don't you think?

#Spotify #jujutsu kaisen #male reader #jjk #ftm reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x male reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro

[cutielights]

Hey pookie!! I luv ur work sm and I was wondering if u could do a rottmnt boys x spider woman reader ab them reacting to her stopping a collider like miles did? Idek if u watched into the spider verse but maybe something like that if not u could wing it if you'd like tysm hope u have a good day/night! ❤️

>>:] yes. For the purposes of writing, im going to act as if you were a spider person for at least a year before this. Not supposed to be Miles’ story, but pretty similar (if that makes sense)

i waNT THE THIRD MOVIE. Frikin dying of miles morales deprivation over here, hand over the sunflower boy with in tact parents

@moonchhu THE OTHER SPIDER PERSON ONE TAG LIST

That Really Big Earthquake

LEO

“Heyyyy, I haven’t seen you in twenty four hours which truly is a record for us, I missed you, did you miss me? I bet you did right? Go on tell me aaaalllll about it.”

“So, I was just kinda minding my own business, y’know, thwipping and thwapping and going about being an awesome hero when I bumped into myself? Kinda. They looked like me, but they were different, and didn’t look like me, but, I knew they were me! Because my spider sense went off and they could do stuff I could do, but also some different stuff! And then we freaked out for a little bit before I went to auntie May to show her and she showed me four more other me’s who were hiding out in her basement and then we tried getting them home and we had to sneak about in this fancy restaurant wearing bow ties, and we cried and they went into this collider thing, also it turns out my favourite cousin was working for the evil genius corporation and he’s dead now and it feels like my fault, I’m so totally fine don’t worry about me. Howwasyourday?”

“Haha, what.”

“Stopped the collapsing of the multiverse.”

“Oh it sounds so simple when you put it like that.” Yeah okay sarcasm queen

Made you some tea after that, let’s just, take a breath for a minute, m’kay?

He has decided it’s a self care day now, at least he did after thoroughly checking you for injuries

How you do not have a concussion will always escape him, not one broken bone? Seriously? After all that?

Please remind him you’re an actual super hero and not a pane of glass

“Wait what was that about your cousin?”

RAPH

“Hey! How was your weekend?”

“Crazier than yours.”

“Okay, Bet.”

One explanation later sponge bob narrator voice

“Wait, so you’re telling Raph, that huge earthquake that happened, happened because of you and five alternate versions of yourself?

“That’s excluding a lot of things I just told you but, I am telling Raph that, yes.”

Huge bone crushing hugs are in order, according to him at least. And I mean, is he wrong?

Not letting you out of his sight for ages, please, Raph, let them go home

“Why are you so worried? I did it, I won!”

“It’s more the fact that it happened and less the fact that you’re mostly fine.”

DONNIE

Othello Von Ryan: Stay home, S.H.E.L.LD.O.N has picked up on some strange (possibly universal fabric destroying) activity. Also there has been some earthquake activity in the area you were in yesterday, not that I have a tracker on you. Because I don’t.

Only Two Legs: I handled it don’t worry :D

Othello Von Ryan: ?

Othello Von Ryan: Traverse to My Lab.

“Heyyy Deee.”

“Stop. Explain. This better be your attempt at humor.”

There was silence for a long while after you had messily glued together words to describe the past 24 hours, before he took a deep breath.

“First, How dare you stop the multiverse from collapsing without me that’s incredible rude. Second, therapy. Third, that earthquake and power surge destroyed My Lab, thankfully I have backup backups to my backups, but I couldn’t use the internet for an hour straight.”

“Y- You’re more concerned about the internet?”

“Not what I said. Now let me check you for a concussion.”

MIKEY

“Hey they took down those art displays.”

“The what?”

“Oh you weren’t here, BUT there was these reaaaallllyyyyy cool art statues along this street! Look, hey, look, I took pics!”

“Oh cooollluuuhhh that’s not an art display that’s five different fire hydrants merged into each other.”

“Haha yeah it does kinda look like that doesn’t it? I thought it was supposed to be a dog.”

“Mikey, no-“ You pulled him aside into an empty alleyway, trying to explain what had happened over the past twenty four hours.

It was an interesting experience, but you got there eventually.

Best believe this boy is giving you the biggest hug ever, and then buying pizza.

Oh, and Dr Feelings is going to be paying you a visit. Multiple. You can’t escape him.

“So they weren’t art displays?”

Speedily bulk writing and scheduling rn bc im going on a holiday with zero internet.

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt hc #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt x you #rise mikey x reader #rise leo x reader #donnie x reader #rise x reader #rise raph x reader #rise mikey x you #rise leo x you #rise donnie x you #rise rapheal x reader #rise michelangelo x you #rise leonardo x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise raph x you #rise michelangelo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt michelangelo x you #rottmnt leo x y/n #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt raph x you #donatello x reader #leonardo x you #raph x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader

[ashlynredonovitch]

Hello! I love your work! Wondering if I could request a Wonka fic where y/n is having a panic attack and willy finds her and helps her through it! then noodle comes in and they all have a lil family moment ^_^ (willy and y/n are platonic!)

Hi anon! thank you so much for the request! Sorry they have now taken a while longer to get out. My whole family was hit with the flu, including me, and I'm not able to write much because I just keep getting headaches. Hope you like the story!

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety, slight mention of a possible ED if you squint, malnourishment

Hope you enjoy!! :)

Panic

I just finished folding more of the laundry after it finally dried, thankfully finished after the long day of doing laundry with the wash crew. We had taken so long that Scrubitt and Bleacher hadn’t let us eat for an extra hour and a half, and since we still hadn’t gotten it done, I took the rest of the load so the others could go eat. Noodle would bring me my dinner later anyway if I didn’t eat. 

It was my fault anyway, I just was going slow today. I was on barrel duty for the majority of the day, and if the first step of the laundry is slow….the rest of it is slow as well. So I automatically felt bad that I was the reason for withholding everyone’s dinner. 

Scrubitt hadn’t let me eat though, so I would just have to wait for Noodle to bring me my food in a couple hours when she could sneak it in. I was craving something though. It gets worse if I’m thrown in the coop because then you don’t get anything at all. At least I’ll have a chance tonight. If only Willy was here. Him and Noodle are getting more milk for his chocolates while they had a chance to escape before roll call. 

I knew the panic was building up, but it just felt like I could ignore it. The feeling in my stomach from how hungry I was felt like a gnawing pain, I couldn’t even focus as I just collapsed in the corner of my small room. My mind a a million thoughts, but I probably couldn’t even try to name one, all of my focus was on the half-tempting smell of the food my fellow workers were consuming. 

I hate crying, I hate it. The feeling in my chest as it gets tighter and tighter to the point I can’t breathe, I hate the feeling of uncontrollable tears that can’t stop. For some reason though, I can’t, there are no tears. Just painful attempts at a breath. 

“She’s in there. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I’m worried,” I hear Piper say as I heard two sets of footsteps down the narrow hallway, oh, it couldn’t be. I’d be too lucky. 

A light knock was on my door, but I couldn’t even begin to try to lift my head up. 

“Y/n?” The voice questioned through my door, before gently opening it. It was apparently my lucky day. “Hey what’s going on?”

“I- I can’t-” I started before my own breathing stopped me. It felt like I was being choked. 

Willy looked concerned as he examined every inch of my face, or what I could tell from where my head was on my knees. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Noodle, go grab a towel!” He hollered as I could see that he tried to reach out to put his hand on my shoulder. 

Apparently once he felt my trembling shoulders he decided I wasn’t well, even without me answering. As Noodle ran in with a towel, Willy instructed her to put water on it. “You’re trembling terribly, here take this.” He offered me his plum-colored tailcoat as he put it over my shoulders, as I stayed curled up in the ball. 

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper out as he tried to loop his arms under me to help me stand. 

“Of course, you know I’d do anything to help you, y/n.” He says earnestly as he guides me over to my small bed. “Here, get under the covers.”

He instructed Noodle to do something else gets that I couldn’t hear. Which I soon would understand as Noodle rushed in with the extra blanket from Willy’s own bed, as he laid it across me. It finally felt like my chest wasn’t being weighted down with a boulder, the comfort of my friend greatly easing my mind. However….

“Y/n, have you eaten anything today?” Noodle hurriedly asked when she stopped. That’s when Willy looked frantically over at me as well, as he sat on my bed. 

“No, I made everyone fall behind earlier, so Scrubitt wouldn’t let me eat.” I say as the tears started to slow, hopefully the last of the bunch as Willy slowly massaged my scalp with his hand. 

“I’m gonna go fix that, I’ll be right back.” She said as she skidded across the floor. 

Not before I let out a quiet “don’t get thrown in the chicken coop” causing the man behind me to let out a quiet laugh. 

“I was really scared when Piper said you isolated yourself in here.” Willy told me, as I tried to look up at him from where I was laying. 

“Sorry,” I told him nonchalantly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, you were having a panic attack, I just got worried. How about after you get some actual food in you, I’ll make your favorite chocolate to cheer you up?” He asked as he continued to rub my head. 

I smiled as I felt the other muscles in my body relaxed, “that sounds really nice.”

“You’re safe now, y/n, Noodle is going to get you dinner, and then we’ll find some funny combination for tonight’s chocolate.” He smiled at me as I listened to him talk, nodding my head at his eagerness. Never had someone been able to help me through an attack that quickly. Even though it had felt like hours, Willy just had a certain charm about him that made it easy to relax. At least now I know someone is there to help me should the need arise again.

#fanfic #willy wonka #wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #timothée chalamet #noodle wonka #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader

[silverinkbottle]

Catch and Release pt. 1

Summary: It's been five years since you first met Dracule Mihawk. Things haven't changed, until one night, they do.

Word Count: 8.8K

Warnings: Explicit references of prostitution, violence, foul language. Sexual Content= fingering, clit stimulation, the wonderful female orgasm. Just slapping on an 18+ warning here now.

F!Reader is a Madam of a ship brothel.

Author Notes: My first ever Tumblr fic! I hope everyone enjoys, I do have more coming down the pipeline! I know my writing style may be a bit different than the usual, so if you have any kind tips please drop an inbox!

Chapter 2 ->

There were times you regretted entering into your agreement with Dracule Mihawk. It was supposed to be a simple exchange of commerce. Your esteemed company on occasion and a consistent exchange of information at the notorious Warlord’s leisure. Mihawk’s favor kept overly enthusiastic pirates and marine alike from harrying the floating brothel.  Profits have never been higher,‘Unexpected’ expenses were almost nil aside from the occasional over indulgent client.

It all worked out. Practically.

A hiss escaped your lips as the leather strings of the corset around your bosom cinched a fraction tighter. Manicured nails dug into the strong wooden bedpost in front of you as you bit down a retort as a telltale ‘tsk’ came from Bathory behind you. 

“Must it be so tight?”

“If you want to show your appreciation properly, yes. It’s a beautiful piece, Madam. It has to be shown properly,” Bathory retorted as the corset’s tug cut off your retort. Thankfully it was the last set of laces as the red-haired woman stepped back with a directed thumb in the direction of the mirror behind her. 

“You are right. For once ” You reluctantly admitted as your fingertips smoothed down one of the many frilled layers of the corset’s bottom half. It was like the delicate flourish of a rose’s crimson petals layering upon each other as the wave of petals crashed into one another, leading to black silk. Small brass buckles no larger than the tip of a knife clicked into place over your bare collar bone to allow the flowing sleeves of fabric to drape down to your wrists.  Tinted lips quirked as a familiar necklace settled over your throat, a delicate little piece of jewelry. One that both infuriated you initially and softened your heart as time went on. A silver dove with its outstretched wings speckled with shattered rubies. The accessory was no larger than the center of your palm, but it felt all the heavier against the top of your sternum.

“Seems almost a shame. Gets you finery to wear and the like but hasn’t done anything with-” Bathory’s snide comment was cut off as the nosey prostitute hastily ducked from an errant steel-backed hairbrush thrown in her direction. The dove’s weight caught your breath as you spun on your stocking covered heel as sharp nails caught Bathory’s blush tinted cheeks. Dark eyes were wide in fear as you fought the urge to sink your nails into her.

“We don’t discuss the arrangements with private clients, Bathory. Ever. If we ever find you smothered in your sleep, we will know it’s because you mouthed off about the wrong client in bed. It will be YOUR fault. So let’s use this past mistake as a lesson,” You hissed before releasing your grip on the woman’s delicate features. Cool anger brushed through your veins as you knew the woman’s snide remark had some truth in it. Your company had been requested frequently, more than several times in the past few months. An unusual uptick. However, it wasn’t for ‘that’, no, the pirate was restless. Bored. As he put it, what better way to pass the time than wind you up before leaving come dawn.

“Bored. I’ll show him. Bored.” You snarled under your breath as you forced yourself to not fidget as Bathory hurriedly finished your dressings. A trademark of your ship, all crew members clad themselves in modified skirts. Their lengths reach down to the feet, but cut window-like at the thigh, bearing stockings and the like. The cut fabric is held up by garter belts and straps at the waist, easily allowing the wearer to sweep aside excess fabric in a curtain-like fashion to be pinned back with a few quick ties. 

“Not my place but-” Bathory’s words were stifled by a whirl of skirts. Your eyes narrowed further as a clear sign that further commentary from her wouldn't be tolerated. Besides, it was all too easy to pick up her next questions. Were you restricted from other clients? No. Why not take a dedicated lover amongst the crew if your needs were so insatiable? 

Because. Boring. Your nails dug into your palm as the mere word floated through mind in that exact infuriating inflection and tone of his. Mihawk made even the mere thought of someone else in your bed, a boring prospect. 

“He’s ruined me, Bathory,” You moaned pitifully as the woman rolled her eyes at your theatrics. It wasn’t something as childish as love. You weren’t that naive. No, it was the rush of excitement that came from being with one of the Warlords of the Sea. The mere sight of the sanctioned pirate made weaker men piss their boots.

“Shall I bring you last month’s berry stash for you to wipe your tears with?” Bathory deadpanned before marching over to your quarter’s door, opening it at the expected knock. 

“You’re up, Hepa. Now quickly before we have to get the salts out for the dramatic Madam Captain’s vapors. We have reached Baratie, right?” Bathory asked as the young man in front of her flashed a bright smile. A wordless confirmation that the docks of the famed restaurant were within eyesight.

“Shall I bring you the salts anyway, Madam Captain?” Hepa snickered as he mockingly offered you his arm to be escorted from the privacy of your quarters through the dimly lit underbelly of the ship. All about you was a flurry of activity as prostitutes and sailors alike moved in a coordinated dance. Gulls cried out their welcome as the flag of the Victoria waved boldly in the bright sunshine. Her Jolly Rodger was that of a blooming white rose, its stem wrapped around by golden chains.

“Madam Captain, afraid we might have some problems with a few select patrons of the Baratie if my memory of the crews are correct. I’ve already spread the word to others about potential issues.”  A hoarse voice addressed you from above as an agile form landed gracefully on the deck, swiping long black bangs from her features. A harsh jagged scar across the woman’s features did little to dim the natural beauty of pale green eyes. However, there were a few that had been deterred by Joan’s prickly nature. The woman wasn’t cowed by anything, not for any amount of money. 

“Does that include yourself, Joan? Wasn’t there that one poor fellow from the 65th Marine regiment that walked off our decks with a few missing digits? I believe your threats to  his wee -” 

Hepa’s recollection was cut off by your hand over his mouth. The crew didn’t need to be reminded of that particular incident. Nor the bribes that to be paid to that Marine’s commanding officer to keep the grievance quiet. It was the first time you heard Mihawk laugh after you complained about the incident. Scoring Joan a few points of respect with the temperamental Warlord upon their next encounter. She was the perfect 1st Mate after all, and had been for the last five years.

Adjusting the center of the small black flat bonnet, the crimson ribbons delicately flowed from the headpiece as you forced a practiced smile on your lips. The games had begun as soon as the heavy thud of the gangplank hit the docks, announcing your arrival. It was a practiced mockery of polite society with all the bows from the fishman host, expressing their delight to be hosting your company once again. On such unexpected notice too. Once again it was a simple exchange of commerce. Lusty clients would cajole company with food and drink, heedlessly ignoring the cries of their money purse as it flowed into the infamous pirate turned head chef’s pockets. You had earned the moody chef’s ire exactly once, after a dispute had broken out between clients over a favored whore. Breaking a few dishes in the process, no, the worst expenses came in the blood that would have been scrubbed relentlessly from the pressed tablecloths.

Even a mere shrug of “We are pirates, you know.” didn’t stop Zeff from charging you for that mistake. For months on end, News Coos would be commissioned to harass you at the break of dawn until you finally paid up. 

“A pleasure to see you again, Madam.”  The warm but glassy tone stirred you from your thoughts as a pair of wine glasses were set in front of yourself and Joan. A genuine hint of a smile brushed over your features as your cheeky waiter winked at your surprised reaction.

“Causing trouble again for Zeff, Sanji?” You mused as Sanji muttered something under his breath. So, the pair were bickering again, the men fought over the culinary aspects of life like dogs over a meaty bone. 

“It is to my great fortune, as I get to see your beautiful face once more. Yours and Miss Joan’s-” Sanji’s words slurred with the edge of a rasp as the flirtatious blonde’s attention slid over to Joan. Her face had hardened like stone as she snorted before idly waving away Sanji’s words like an unpleasant smell. Even that harsh rejection didn’t seem to dampen Sanji’s attentive nature as the man was all but offering to sit in your lap if it pleased you.

“Such a good boy.” You purred as Sanji recalled your specific request for wine from a previous visit. Delicate, full-bodied crimson wine flowed into the crystalline glass as you took an apprehensive sip of the vintage. It was perfect. Dry, but hints of oak and cherry lingered on the edge of your taste buds. 

“I live to serve,” Sanji simpered before his good-natured smile slid off his face as if someone had slapped him with fish as a far coarser voice demanded his attention. 

“I pity that man’s kidneys if he asks Sanji another question.” Joan muttered wickedly as Sanji’s charming demeanor had turned into a threatening storm cloud as the unruly guest jabbed a thumb into the waiter’s chest. 

“Let’s just pray for all his internal organs, hm?” You retorted with another sip of the glass. Sanji could be as short tempered as his mentor if someone pushed the wrong buttons. Your veins sung with an elevated flood of adrenaline as you watched the visible muscle in Sanji’s defined cheek jump. Oh he was becoming livid. You were about to find out about what soon enough.

The man was all but sweating whiskey as he placed an unsteady hand on the table next to your  placed wine glass. You could smell the sour notes of alcohol as he gave his best ‘winning’ smile before clearing his throat loudly. 

“It is a great honor that the Steel Madam grace us with her presence, on this fine evening. Your crew’s charm and beauty is well-known even in the youngest cadets barracks. Some would say it is their goal not to catch the most notorious pirate, but to lay eyes on your very form.” 

It was too easy to read the man. Marine. Boldly displaying his rank as a lieutenant with his few paltry stripes on his coat. The tops of his knuckles free from painful rope burn or the small cuts of errant swings during sword drills. Beyond all that, it was sheer arrogance in his smile when his other hand brushed over your thigh.

A burst of giggles spilled from your lips as you brushed off the advance with little interest. Confusion, anger and surprise flinted over the Marines face as Joan snorted into her wine glass from across the table. As your laughter subsided, you forced a polite smile on your face before allowing the cruel but practiced rejection to begin.

“You honor me with your words, Marine. Afraid you won’t be able to enjoy my company tonight, you see it isn’t because I am occupied at this very moment. No, it’s because you would bore me to tears with your little bravado and tales. Past experience has made me realize men with such pretty little lines and false sincerity have far more 'inadequacies’ in my manner of expertise. Perhaps, you should try your luck with my companion here. She does like teaching stupid puppies little tricks..” 

Joan’s sharp kick to your knee stilled your words as you winked across at the stoic woman. It was far more likely that Joan would leave the man with more than bruises and healthier respect for the world’s oldest profession.  You and your crew clad yourself as people first and then a commodity, sometimes others saw the second first.

Like now as ringed fingers harshly gripped your face, pulling your attention from Joan to the infuriated Marine. Oh, he wasn’t used to rejection as your eyes narrowed when his grip didn’t loosen. Now he was playing a dangerous game. The few quiet conversations around you stifled as onlookers waited to see what would happen next.

“You think you can reject me? You’re just a fucking whore. Aren’t even worth the trash namesake of pirate, since all the fighting you and your fucking slags do is on your back. You should be on your knees sucking my co-”

 You quickly removed the three inch long hair pin from your hat. Fluidly driving it through skin and muscle alike into the man’s other hand, placed ever so perfectly on the pristine table cloth. The sharp point driven with such finesse that not a single droplet leaked from the impaled flesh.  A pained gasp slipped from the Marine’s lips as you easily ripped out the tinted needle from flesh before neatly wiping it off with a folded napkin.

“You may not want to bleed too much on that floor. I am surprised someone as ‘well-traveled’ as you wouldn’t recognize a pirate. After all, prostitutes are one of the most profitable pirates alive. I could just as easily strip you naked, take your coin with a gentle smile, and decide to dump your broken corpse into the ocean after bombarding your stationed vessel because you failed to please me. All of those troubles are because of someone stupid letting slip about the changing of the guard and where exactly your treasurer keeps ‘stolen’ goods. All these little simple things that you can’t see potentially unfolding in front of you. All because you can’t see beyond your little shriveled worm of a thing I am sure you boast off as a cock. So, do kindly, go fuck off somewhere else.”

If it were possible for the Marine’s ruddied face to turn any harsher, you would have been surprised. Except, the little bout of entertainment was drawn to a close by the sickening noise of human teeth crashing against the floorboards from Sanji’s foot plowing downward into the man’s spine. Your head tilted inquisitively to the side as you were sure that some of the spinal column in the moaning man’s lower back had tilted a little to the right. Too far right if your guess was correct.

“Excellent choice in wine, Sanji” You hummed as the waiter stepped over the groaning lump with a well-practiced movement. Tipping in the precious liquid into your half empty glass with a slight glint of amusement.  The waiter wasn’t meant to be a waiter, no, Sanji had proven once again about the reputation of the fighting chefs of the Baratie. Sanji bent at the waist in an elegant bow before offering you his hand to assist you from the table.

“That won’t be necessary, Sanji. Thank you. If I require anything else, I will know who to ask for.” You said softly as the man’s bright smile shrunk a mere centimeter. Still, he allowed you to collect the opened bottle with little question as you passed by him with a cheeky wink. 

“I have seen kicked dogs that looked less put out than him.” Joan whispered conspicuously from behind as you both ascended the gilded staircase, the pair of empty wine glasses clinking merrily together.

“Please, Joan, not now. We have far bigger issues than him if-”

Your words froze on your lips as you reached the landing of the bar space. It was near impossible to miss Mihawk’s signature blade, coat and hat. Anyone who was anyone knew of the Warlord as several patrons gave him ample space with exchanging silent worried glances as the faintest hint of a sigh caused Mihawk’s posture to go from languid to stiff. Even from behind, you could tell he was focusing on something by the slightest tilt of his head, provoking his feathered hat to tremble from the movement. 

“He’s…listening for something” You whispered in Joan’s ear conspicuously dragging her toward the edge of the bar by her wrist. Thankfully, there were a pair of open seats across the way as few seemed to be willing to subject themselves to the loudmouth drunk at the bar. Boldly boasting about a victory over the Marines. Was this the apparent target from Mihawk’s letter? Your hand didn’t leave Joan’s wrist as a quiet command for her to wait. However, it didn’t stop her from hissing under her breath as your grip involuntarily tightened when Mihawk’s gaze met yours for the first time.

Gods, he had beautiful eyes. To targets, their orangish hue struck fear into their hearts as a bird of prey rips a mere sparrow out of the sky. Yet, you knew better. The gentle flicker of warmth as you recount stories of some long ago memory, a curious tilt of head when you lose track of the conversation. The cool resolve and defiance as you begin to bicker over something petty, followed by mischief as he begins to try to crumple your resolve. Except, now all that you could read was an air of ignorance bellied by prickling irritation as you could see a nail run over the bottom of his wine glass.

Your eyes flicked to the loud drunk in a silent question “This can’t be him. No pirate is this-”

A twitch of his pointer finger was all the answer you needed “No. But wait.”

It would be difficult to miss as the loud drunk proclaimed himself as Captain of some mighty crew. Bold and brave enough to disable a marine ship. For the warrior of the sea was the great Captain Ussopp, it would have almost been an impressive tale if the man clearly wasn’t so deep in his cups.  Even lies had a hint of truth to them. Why else would Mihawk be bothering to eavesdrop like this?

“A little push may be needed, Joan. If you don’t mind.” You muttered as you sent off the woman with a small tap on her butt towards Ussop. It was like watching an octopus camouflage itself within a new reef as the disgruntled woman’s cool expression turned into a warm, bright smile. Giggling loudly under her breath as Joan leaned forward on the bar counter, startling Usopp into almost dropping his drink. Did the man just enjoy hearing himself tell lies unaware that he could be attracting attention?

“You don’t mean you fought off all those Marines by yourself. A whole ship against a pirate crew? How frightening.” Joan whispered in a lower tone as Usopp grinned roguishly before raising his hand to his mouth in a mock stage whisper.

“Well no. You see, there is this guy..kinda our captain, Luffy, bounced it right back at the-”

Mihawk blinked slowly at this reveal as you took a few steps closer to the enraptured Joan, a far more demure expression on your face in comparison to Joan’s look of adoration. It was turning into a pincer movement as Mihawk joined with a mere request to meet this strange Luffy. Akin to a sheep amongst wolves, Usopp agreed as he slung a loose arm over Joan’s shoulder with little regard to her flicker of irritation. Guiding his ‘date’ and new ‘friend’ towards a far quieter table. Unfortunately, his associates  were far less dim-witted as the swordsman called Mihawk out by title and demands for a duel.

Fuck.

As the game was revealed, Joan shoved away a nervous Usopp with a look of disgust.The young man was looking paler and paler by the second, threatening to spew all he had drunk over the bar floor. Or was it from the escalating air of violence that whispered between the swordsmen as Mihawk indulged the whimsical, but potentially fatal request of the young upstart. All, while the orange haired woman’s emotions were as plain as day on her face; all the fear and anger, brief for a moment as it was composed into a mask of calm.

“ You look somewhat familiar to me. Makes me wonder if you kept even stranger company than this-” Joan retorted as eyeing Nami.. Only leaning away when Zoro’s booted feet slammed against the table, a clear warning for the woman to back off.

Astute dark eyes slid over to your seated form at the bar as you gave a flicker of your fingers in greeting. Even drunk, you could see him rip through the facade of silks and make-up. To the weaponry hidden underneath the elaborate skirts. The heavier weight of the leather sheath brushing against your knee was all the more comforting now. Ronoro Zoro was dangerous, even you weren’t stupid to deny that.

However, you had far more pressing issues as your brain short-circuited as the mouth-watering scent of Mihawk surrounded you like the ocean itself. Close. He was far too close as you saw the tell-tale tick of his mouth flicker. Enjoying your stunned reaction far too much as he stood in front of your seat, blocking you from view. The delicate wine glass in your other hand shattered into fragments on the bar countertop when the swordsman’s right hand brushed over your left hip bone, strong fingers possessively curling around you. A quiet demand for your attention instead of fretting over the green-haired duelist.

Not once in five years had Mihawk been this public with his touch. The world rushed around your ears as you could see but not hear his sigh as Mihawk glared over his shoulder at Joan. Peering around Mihawk, you could see that she was getting far too comfortable with baiting the challenger. However, any thoughts beyond the pressure against your hip were rendered mute.

Why now? Why was he doing this to you? Thousands of questions burned through your mind as you blinked blankly at Mihawk as prickles of irritation danced over his words as he addressed Joan.

“Leave the boy alone, Joan. I prefer opponents with their kneecaps still attached.” 

Oh. When did the woman’s mace come out as its heavy head in the glass table with a screech. Zoro’s fingers drifted towards his swords as you could feel your heart pick up from the escalating tension. Or was it from Mihawk’s tighter grip as Joan gave her potential opponent a leering smile. She didn’t work for the Warlord, she worked for you.

“Joan. Go find someone else to toy with.” Your tone sounded remarkably hollow to your own ears. Like you still weren’t present even as you could feel the faint stinging sensation of splintered glass piercing your palm. Followed by the faint glare of the bartender dutifully cleaning up the mess you caused. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this point as your brain tried to connect unseen dots of Mihawk’s display.

It was like floating in a dream, half-awake but knowing it wasn’t real. That it could all shatter within a blink of the eye as Mihawk escorted you back down the dining floor. An infuriating barely there smile on his face from your reaction. What was he playing at? Even the screech of the opposite chair and its sturdy back did little to make you speak those words.

The world came rushing back as the stinging of glass was pinched and prodded by calloused but gentle fingers as you tried to make a fist. Mihawk quickly pressed a thumb to your wrist, preventing the action with a cool stare from across the table. The dining area of the restaurant felt all the louder now as several conversations mingled around your table, some doubtlessly about you. All you could focus on was the tinted red fragments of glass piled up on the table, pulled from your hand. The bloodied fragments were almost as red as the wine in Mihawk’s glass that he took a drink from as he tapped a finger impatiently against the table. 

“Please do stop staring at me like I am Donquixote Doflamingo acquiring you for my personal household. It was merely a bit of glass in your hand, not a mortal flesh wound.”

“It’s not that.”

“Isn’t it?”

Mihawk’s nonchalant attitude stoked your temper as he hadn’t ever publicly acknowledged the entire affair ever. Not once. Yet, now here he was acting as if it was a daily occurrence to show some sort of affection. 

“Are you dying? Are you worried about losing tomorrow? Did you piss off the World-”

Mihawk’s quiet chuckle stilled your hissed questions as your eyes narrowed suspiciously. The man was hiding something from you. He was truly dying? No. It had to be something far deeper. There was a reason behind the madness.

The light brush of his hand atop your knee underneath the table made you flinch in surprise.

“Because I felt like it, little dove. Is that reason enough?”

“Arrogant bastard.” Your voice dropped to a low hiss as you could feel goosebumps prickle over your legs as his hand reached further up to your thigh. Teasing at the silken window of fabric of your skirts in short taps. 

“I am not in the mood for games, Mihawk.” You spat as you took a deep drink from your own wine glass. Trying to keep a blank mask even as a hint of want brushed over your mind as Mihawk’s hand curled through your thigh. 

“Then tell me to stop.” Mihawk challenged as his amber gaze glinted with amusement. It was a look you had seen time and time again in bed. Wanting you to ‘run’ so that he could ‘catch’ you until you were at his mercy. Like a feline batting around a mouse for fun instead of substance. A soft ‘hm’ slipped from the quiet man’s lips as you daringly spread your legs further apart. Daring him with a move of your own.

“So. The boy interests you? That’s quite a change.” You muttered in a casual tone that pitched up an octave as agile fingers tugged at the unseen knot of your skirt’s strings. Cool air caressed your now bare thighs as the skirts now gathered to one side in a layer of fabric. Frustration and desire mingled longingly as calloused fingertips skirted against your skin. Tracing unseen patterns as you swallowed tightly as the fingers brushed near your inner thigh before retreating. 

“He has guts. A change, indeed” Mihawk retorted as his head tipped to the side eyeing your form. Quietly watching the subtle changes of your body as arousal trickled into your mind, clouding far more rational pride and decorum. The smallest increase in your breathing patterns, the start of dilation in your eyes. The keen observation made the pit in your stomach grow all the larger as the slightest deviation from the normal was scrutinized. A maddening talent when Mihawk felt like drawing out your pleasure in bed, edging you until you dangled on the tip of euphoria but pulling you back with ease.

“Ask.” Mihawk teased as fingers brushed over the edge of your hip. All it would take was a single pull of the ribbon holding up your underthings. Then you would be truly bare to the world. In public. Heat sank into your form as you could feel yourself begin to relax. It had been some time since your last coupling, and self-pleasure could only get you so far in dousing your needs.

“Mihawk.” Your voice was a mere breath that edged on a whine as your eyes dilated with the first gentle brush over your core. That little bundle of nerves would be your downfall even as the fabric of your lingerie covered it, it was almost as good as bare as soon as his pointer finger trailed over it. Slowly manipulating the digit at a snail’s pace with practiced brushes as you shifted closer in your seat.

It was almost infuriating as Mihawk was looking like the picture of elegance across the table. Draining the last bit of wine from his glass as he put it back on the table. Tracing the crystalline stem contemplating even as his other occupied hand did the same. The same slow, almost painful pace as you bit the inside of your cheek. You weren’t going to break that easily. Not yet, as you swallowed a whine as he brushed over the edge of your cunt’s lips, smearing fluid over your wanting clit. Further increasing the pleasure of the next brush as your hands tightened around the edge of the table cloth.

“Don’t give up the game so easily, dove.” Mihawk mused as you didn’t dare open your mouth to retort. It was impossible to know in the haze of lust if actual words or a mere pitiful whine would slip from you. Or if the man’s agile fingers would decide to go from teasing to dangerous. The rational idea that he wouldn’t make you orgasm in the very crowded restaurant was becoming illogical as you knew that look in his eyes.

It was all a game for him. Playing with your desires, bringing you to his desired peak before letting you go. Waiting for you to explode from a white-out blinding pleasure. It was inexplicably cruel and unexpected during your first entanglement, but now it was exciting. Dracule Mihawk was an exceptional lover when he wanted to be. Perhaps one of the man’s biggest secrets known only to you. 

He was patient. You were not.

The little game of two turned into an unwelcome three as Sanji’s gentle voice broke through your focus. A fresh bottle of wine in the waiter’s arms as Mihawk gestured for him to set the bottle down. Watching the cork of the wine bottle opener was maddening as with rotation, Mihawk’s fingers swept over your throbbing clit as you bit down on your lip as you could feel your thighs begin to tense. Your breath pitched for the briefest second as cheeks burned with embarrassment when Sanji’s concerned gaze turned from the bottle to you. 

“Are you alright, Madam?” 

A hiss of pain escaped your lips as you forced your knees upward into the table. Bucking Mihawk’s meddlesome fingers away from you for a moment as you forced a watery smile on your face.

“Yes, fine. Sanji- thank-”

Your words edged from collected to a whine as Mihawk retorted with actions of his own. Within a span of seconds, shifting your lingerie aside as cruel digits brushed over your now bare clit. Want and desire purred in your veins as you swallowed tightly, rolling your neck as if that would stop the wave of lust shorting any rational thought from your mind.

“Are you sure? You are looking a bit red?” Sanji asked gently, touching your shoulder as Mihawk’s gaze flickered from your crumbling face to the waiter’s hand. Now the swordsman’s digits drifted from your clit to your soaked pussy, brushing over the hot velvet walls as your gaze went wide at him.

Don’t you dare.

Then pay attention to me.

Jealous. He was jealous. A completely foreign idea to you that the swordsman could become so prickly over Sanji’s familiarity. Then again, he was full of surprises tonight as you forced a strained smile on your burning cheeks

“I’m fine, Sanji. Don’t worry.” It was a poor performance as your words caught on your breath as the waiter's gaze slid from you to Mihawk. The utter disdain and irritation from the swordsman rolled off him in waves now. Go. Away .Now. It was a message made loud and clear as your eyes narrowed at Mihawk as Sanji’s steps retreated.

Too far.

A scoff at the minor scolding sent anger chipping at the edge of lust and want. The reality of the situation was the absurdity of this entire dinner. Mihawk’s strange affection and daring had turned you upside down as you struggled to put yourself into a rational mindset. Repercussions could be severe if you were caught in such a vulnerable position, much less the creeping shame of the blatant display of sexuality. The realization hit you like a cold wave of water, private, you wanted this to be between Mihawk and yourself only. Selfish, greedy, all these things hissed in your head as your hand caught his wrist, lightly pushing it away. 

Why?

A curious tilt of his head as you hastily rearranged your skirts into their proper display as you rose from the table on teetering legs. Nails digging into the tablecloth to steady yourself as you took a deep breath before muttering under your breath for him to meet you outside in ten minutes.

The request was a mistake as your heels clicked restlessly against the fragmented dock. Even the gentle roar of the sea around you did little to quiet the restless thoughts that rampaged now. What was that about? Why did you stop it? What was Mihawk playing at? Did you even want that? All questions turned into aggression as someone grabbed your wrist forcibly halting your pacing. Violence and lust paired together so deliciously as you easily twisted ,while pulling a knife from your skirts, all too happily ready to slit someone’s throat. Anger singed the thought as you registered who it was.

There was a quiet screech of the blade of your knife embedding itself into the crate next to Mihawk’s head. His gentle sigh as the anger in your gaze flickered to hesitation as he released his grip on your wrist.

“We should work on your aim, darling.”

“Stop. That.” You snarled as your nails curled around the collar of his overcoat. Pulling your faces a mere inch apart as you could feel yourself being peeled back layer by layer within his eyes. It was like watching a precious gem shatter into pieces as you could see flickers of his own emotions. Want, confusion, amusement, a speckle of irritation when your grip didn’t loosen after a few seconds. 

“What?”

Your retort went to ashes in your mouth as the question was one even you couldn’t answer. Not now. It wasn’t from the pet names, no, it wasn’t the first time for that. Your heart thumped a little faster as you recalled the first time you addressed a dove. A lazy, but affectionate drawl as the heat of sex cooled around you. The critique of your ability to defend yourself? A mere speck of irritation when it came from the world’s greatest swordsman.

Then what was it?

A soft sigh escaped your lips as gentle fingertips brushed over your cheek, trying to pull you back from your labyrinth of thoughts. Followed by the skitter of goosebumps over your throat as Mihawk traced a familiar path downward. A hint of a smirk on his mustached face as he brushed over the gifted pendant nestled above your corseted chest. The involuntary scoff from you when his fingers brushed over the swell of fabric instead of the skin that lurked underneath it. 

“Now don’t pout, pet.” Mihawk muttered as your positions easily flipped with a light tug. Now the damp wood of crates brushed over your back as you all too willingly spread your legs apart to allow the swordsman's frame between them. This you could do. Could focus on as you shifted impatiently as Mihawk’s hands settled on your hips, teasing the knots of your skirt with slow contemplation.

“Do you want this?” A mere puff of words against your throat.

“Mihawk, don’t make me-” Your hand was quick to smother the bastard child of a moan and yelp as the cool sea air hit your lower half followed by delicious waves of pleasure. Your head tipped back against the crates as you tried to keep your panting softer, well-aware of Mihawk’s burning your expression. It would be over all too soon if you looked him in the eyes, he could read your body with a mere blink. Who knew when you would get this again.

“Should I stop?” Mihawk rasped as your legs quivered at the thought. While your foggy brain all but screeched in protest as the pleasurable rhythm over your clit paused. A hiss escaped your lips as Mihawk was quick to pin you back against the crate. Unable to twitch a single muscle, but feel the agonizing brush of leather against your soaked cunt. Even the scent of your own juices sent want further down your core as Mihawk lighted gripped your face with viscous fingertips.

“All I need is a yes or no..” Mihawk muttered as his eyes went wide in surprise with your next movement. Rutting, you were all but rutting against the man’s thigh, desperate to get some sort of friction against your cunt. Your panting came in short, harsh bursts as your nails desperately curled into the back of silken black hair. Pressing the swordsman against your throat to feel your thudding pulse as your whimpers pitched with relief when Mihawk’s thigh went an inch further between your legs. This was what you needed, wanted, hungered for after a long month.

Maddeningly your euphoric burst of pleasure didn’t come within minutes as expected. No, it is like standing on the edge of a cliff in your gut, never quite falling. Tears of frustration prickled the corners of your eyes as one daringly fell against Mihawk’s buried face. Shifting darkened lust to concern as he gently tipped your flushed face upward. Casually brushing away your traitorous tear as his head tipped in that silent question.

What’s wrong?

“I..tonight..was..alot. Just things on my mind.” You admitted sheepishly as your words sounded beyond clumsy. This entire affair wasn’t between fumbling teenagers or strangers. He knew your body as well as you did at this point. It was an infuriating talent of Mihawk’s to track the time it took for you to cum. With or without his assistance, he had astonishing accuracy. 

“So. Stop. Thinking.” Mihawk chidded with a note of amusement. As if your personal confession had been a mere quip instead of something as serious as this. His eyes rolled dramatically as you stared back blank-faced, you didn’t find it funny in the slightest. A hum slipped from him as you wiggled in protest as once more he trapped you with his own body. 

“I can help with that. Then you can happily prattle your worries off.” Mihawk teased as he pressed an open kiss to your thudding pulse.

“You fucker..” You hissed as he chuckled quietly against your throat. It was a dangerous start as you could slowly feel yourself starting to slip. Gods, you weren’t that needy were you? The entire evening could have been over and done without all the theatrics if Mihawk had just led with this. The telltale pricks of pain and pleasure as his teeth nipped at your sensitive throat. While his left hand gripped at your corseted right breast, feeling your frantic heartbeat beneath the cumbersome attire. Yet, the true joy came when you arched your hips supported by his thigh, as his right hand palmed at your clit. Tracing the small bundle of nerves in a slow circle as you could your breathing pitch. An immediate shift in pattern to up and down.

“Please, don’t stop..” Your voice edged on begging as you could feel your thighs begin to tighten. Closer and closer to that one thing you desperately sought as your nails sank into Mihawk’s overcoat. A selfish whisper of wanting for it to be warm bare skin instead of slicked cloth. 

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound like you are cumming all over my trousers, dove.” Mihawk purred as you hadn’t a chance to even think of a response. Fuck, you didn’t even think you could speak in the common tongue as your clit throbbed as the pace turned from casual to harsh. Wanting to drive every single thought from your worried head to piercing bliss.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The vulgar swears came off your lips like a blasphemous prey as your core burst from the hot heat. Your nails had to have sunk deep through fabric as you could feel Mihawk’s breath pitch into a hiss from your hands dragging over his shoulders.  Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care as all you could feel was the slow ooze of hormones and the gentle throbbing of your cunt. You even managed a half hearted apology in your hazed smile, as a new jolt of excitement hit your cooling guts. 

Mihawk had that look in his eyes. One that was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. That this little brief moment of bliss wasn’t enough to satisfy the swordsman. No. He wanted you utterly fucked out.

“Mihawk.” Your voice was a mixture of a whimper and begging as he all too easily turned you around to face the crates. Your manicured nails bit into the sodden wood with reckless abandon as he slid on hand over the cusp of your soaked cunt. You couldn’t help but shudder as calloused fingertips made a v-shape around your inflamed clit. Even having the slightest pressure near the shocked bundle of nerves made you want to whimper. Too much it was going to be too much as you shifted away from the testing digits. 

“Stay still, dove.” Mihawk ordered as he nipped at one of your earrings. Humming gentle praise as your legs spread a bit further at his gentle urging with his free hand, caressing against your inner thigh. A choked moan slipped from your lips at the first gentle touch of your pulsing cunt. It wasn’t going to be frantic or rushed like your earlier failure, no, he was going to draw you out like a taut string.  Or at least that was his usual choice of play as you couldn’t help but sag in relief at his next words.

“Let’s get you out of this rain before you catch a cold..”

“Mihawk!” Your voice turned from gentle grace to a harsh pitch as pleasure arched into your spent body. That treacherous spot in your cunt would be your undoing as tears stung your eyes as you were bombarded by waves of pleasure. Splattered by the delicious pain of your overstimulated clit, it was all too easy to sink into the blissful black once more. A snarl slipped from you as far different pain sank into the side of your throat. Even then there was a tender moment as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. Never pushing for more as you tried to resurface from the haze. The cool reality is sinking in from the heat.

“You are never biting me. Again. Ever.” You hissed in short breaths as you struggled to catch your frazzled brain up with your current irritation. An extremely pleased Mihawk’s full body weight pressing you against the crate from behind with one hand measuring your pulse with two digits. While the other tightly gripped your waist to prevent any sort of unwanted movement. Like the silent demands on an overgrown house cat or perhaps a panther would be more accurate, Mihawk would move when he wished regardless of your grumblings. Wanting to feel your hormone addled heartrate’s erratic thumping settle into a gentle lull in the aftermath of pleasure. A quiet reminder of life since death was done at the swordsman’s so often.

Or he found it amusing that you weren’t one for much cuddling after the fact.

Eventually you settled on the answer of it being a combination of both. Your strained patience could only take so much from tonight. Between the light drizzle of rain, disheveled clothes and the pressing weight of Mihawk languid stance, it was making the little floating feelings of pleasure circle the drain. A sharp hiss slipped from your lips as you gingerly brushed over the broken skin on the side of your neck. He had bit you far too hard this time. In such a public area, marking you for all the world to see. Breaking one of the few rules of your agreement.

“You’re going to pay for this. Aren’t you?” You growled as your manicured nails tapped against the swordsman’s buried face to pull his attention from your shoulder to your throat. Flippant pain radiated from the reddish skin as Mihawk’s lips pressed over the mark gently. Your nails threatened to leave moon-shape marks as your request wasn’t something to be toyed with. No, it was demand.

Fix this. Now.

“Shall I buy you a collar then? Something frilly and obnoxious that draws even more stares to you.” Mihawk muttered against your throat, you could feel the faint twitch of his smile as your nails gripped a fraction tighter. 

“This isn’t a game. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t exactly maintain it if I walk around looking like I had been marked like some feral cat in heat..” You hissed as captains, wealthier clientele all held out for the miniscule chance you would take them to bed. An illusion that Mihawk took great pleasure in shattering by leaving marks on your body. No one liked to be reminded that their chosen company was shared afterall. 

“So uphold your reputation. The steel-spined Madam of the Basileia Pirates, Madam Captain of the Victoria. Speculated by rumors that she has turned into a frigid bi-”

“Mihawk, this isn’t-”

“A game. I know, dove. So stop trying to play it.” Mihawk rasped as he turned you around to face him properly. There was an undeniable seriousness in his gaze as he lightly tilted your face upward, forcing you to meet him head on. Any further retorts or biting sarcasm vanished from your mind as the reality of the situation slunk in like a scavenger. Five years, this arrangement had suited you both perfectly well. Never entertaining girlish thoughts of romance except on your worst days, practical and level-headed. Now Mihawk was in the flesh, proposing an alternative.

“So, speak plainly then.” You whispered as a flicker of embarrassment edged your words at the faint tremble in your voice. Was it fear for the future? Rejection? Excitement? You couldn’t explain the confusing tangle of emotion.

“Become my Paramour.”

The word sank like a stone in the vastness of the ocean. It had an echoing quality to it as your mind burst into frantic activity. Mihawk wasn’t joking, he wasn’t baiting you into another game. He meant it. ‘It’, you didn’t even dare name the proposal in your own head. Fuck, how were you supposed to accept it outloud.

“Please tell me these long periods of silence won’t become the norm with you.” Mihawk teased as your lips went into a flat expression of irritation. As if he hadn’t just proposed something that would monumentally shift the trajectory of your reputation. To him, such a change would be a mere splattering of ink on some documentation, in comparison to the news of sinking entire fleets. Yet for you. You could already imagine the new files that would have to be drawn up on you.

“You are serious. Aren’t you.This isn’t just a whim.” 

“Have I ever been one for whimsy?” Mihawk retorted with a roll of his eyes as your hands fisted around the lapel of his overcoat. A Paramour wasn’t a mere name lauded on some favored bed warmer. It had implicit marking of partnership, your name would forever be linked to the Warlord for better or worse. Seeing you at his side wouldn’t be a random chance, but expected. Spreading out of your life from bed to crew. What would their reactions be?

“I’ll give you my answer, tomorrow. Just don’t die to some upstart. I would blame this whole proposal as a sign of bad luck” You muttered

“Such little faith, little dove.” Mihawk teased as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. The pair of you remained like that for some time. Even as the drizzling rain turned into a true display, it didn’t matter. Only tomorrow did.

Series Masterlist Here

#opla x reader #opla mihawk #opla fanfiction #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk

[grace--le--domas]

PJO- Some Show Recommendations for the showrunners if s2 is greenlit

Season 1 was kinda...boring? Honestly, that is the last thing I expected a PJO adaptation to be. The books aren't perfect, but they are fun! There is friendship, adventure, humour, all while still the characters grapple with some pretty serious stuff. The show (except for the first two episodes and the finale) feels stiff.

Show is too exposition-y, the pacing is off and it of course breaks the cardinal rule of show- don't -tell.

Thankfully, the concerns are easily remedied. Coming of age stories are a dime and dozen, and I think that the showrunners could actually learn from the TV shows and movies of past. So, I compiled some recommendations for them :) Read on if extensive analysis is your thing :)

Buffy The Vampire Slayer- Honestly, this is theee coming of age story. It follows Buffy (the chosen one), as she navigates high school, college and eventually adulthood, along with slaying vampires. And instead of a sullen main character, we as an audience are treated to a sassy, take-no-prisoners variant of the chosen one trope. There are so many similarities between Percy and Buffy- both are loyal to a fault, sarcastic and stubborn. They understand that they cannot escape their respective destinies, but they'll be damned if they don't see things through their own way. Both are brave to a fault, and adore their found families. The writers could take some inspiration from BTVS and Buffy's character arc (to an extent). Bonus- BTVS has great examples of melding humour in serious situations.

2. Mission Impossible Series- This one might be a bit controversial, but hear me out. I know most people consider the MI films popcorn flicks-and they are- but most the movies in the series are paced excellently. There is a sense of urgency in MI films- which was severely lacking in the PJO show. Have a deadline, let me feel anxious for these kids.

MI also has some excellent action scenes. And before you say, well PJO is not an action series, I would like to say that I agree- but the beauty of adaptating something is that you get to change things. Well paced action sequences, even if they are about a minute or so, are necessary break up the exposition dumps. It breaks the monotony. It makes you feel afraid for these kids, who are running from one dangerous situation/monster to another.

3. Dune (2023)- Thematically, Dune is vastly different from PJO. I am including it in this list for several reasons- editing, cinematography world building and sound editing.

To put it bluntly, I don't feel connected to the world of the PJO series at all- which is a shame because it is an incredible world! Greek mythological creatures co-existing with the modern world! Modern myths! Greek gods!. But it is all introduced in the most boring, exposition-y way possible.

The cinematography doesn't shine until the last episode. I want interesting shots, fluid camera movements- just anything that breaks the monotony of scenes. For example- I loved Poseidon's introduction, why wasn't this type of cinematography present in the rest of the series. Shoot the gods differently, make use of different camera compositions. Experiment a little for god's sake.

Coming to sound, yeah this one was the most disappointing of all. There are no memorable sound motifs, which is a shame because sound can convey so much more than words in certain scenes. I say Harry Potter music and you instantly think about the charcteristic symphony. This is missing sorely in the tv show.

Sidenote- I would have chosen Nathan Barr as the music composer (missed opportunity Disney). Look up his work, and you'll understand why I said this.

Coming to editing, yeah the editing is clunky at best. That is all I have to say about that for the moment.

Let me know if anyone wants a part 2 :)

#percy series #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson and the olympians #PJO #PJO tv series #pjo spoilers #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #disney #percy and annabeth #pjo #disney plus

[devilfic]

❝hard-knock life❞

plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use “fiancé” gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word “goon”, based off this post by @emma-d-klutz​. words: 3.5k.

a/n: I just can’t stop thinking about this post

Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.

One goon holds a phone up to his face—so that he can see himself on screen—while two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines they’re not worth reading.

The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruce’s lack of emotion, “Look at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Won’t be so brave in a minute now, will you?” 

Bruce assumes they’re referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he can’t look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when he’d figured out their plan two days ago.

“I can offer you money,” Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, “anything. Anything you want.”

The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Anything we want, huh? Why don’t you tell our audience how you should’ve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.”

Bruce wants to tell them that it’s not exactly his fault Edward didn’t make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.

The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.

“What the fuck is that?” The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. It’s thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddler’s followers like a dramatic omen. It isn’t long before Bruce can’t see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.

A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog. 

The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. There’s the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-

Splash!

Bruce can’t see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.

“Shit, shit, shit! We’ve been ambushed!” The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponent’s nose getting crushed by the weight of the attacker’s palm. The phone falls out of the goon’s hand when he collapses, unconscious. 

Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. “Did we do it?” You ask, giddy. 

Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. “I believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?”

“Alright” was a stretch for what tonight’s events had done to his mood, though he’s thankful he doesn’t have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. “Peachy,” he grits through his teeth, “is the stream still going?”

Alfred hums, wiping some of the goon’s blood off his knuckles, “No, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.”

That was a relief. Their theatrics weren’t all for nothing. With luck, tonight’s failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddler’s remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now they’d stop trying to kidnap him off the street.

They, in fact, did not stop.

Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a “harrowing” threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.

This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.

Bruce had a wedding to be planning for God’s sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, they’d said online.

This was the other downside of the Riddler’s fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that weren’t were constantly on his radar.

It wasn’t that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and he’d lose you.

“Looking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You must’ve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons can’t hear him from his perch. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You really, really didn’t. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him he’d need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, “Don’t worry. Batman will protect me.” You sing.

Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniper’s back, knocking him out cold.

There’s considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe you’d still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-

Away in his own mind, he isn’t prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, he’d downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.

The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruce’s ears weren’t still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.

Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, “You’re not gonna drop him, are you?”

Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, “This won’t end well for you.”

The goon is shivering in Bruce’s grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. “Y-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!” The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. “The Waynes will pay for what they’ve done to Gotham!”

“Are those your words or his?”

He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isn’t Bruce’s job to play therapist. He doesn’t know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies he’s been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancé and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadn’t been ready.

But this kid wasn’t the one holding the gun. “I’m giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,” Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, “there won’t be a second warning.”

The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.

Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, “You alright, handsome? I hope these guys aren’t getting to you.”

Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, “I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“You were thinking about it, but you would’ve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?”

His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. “Maybe... maybe later. I’m heading back to the tower.”

He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. It’s dark out and you’re high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, “You better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce can’t help it. He laughs, “I thought you liked it when the suit stays on.”

You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.

Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didn’t expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise you’d made long before he’d gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (”-and the sake of Gotham!” you’d added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didn’t even have to spend it conscious. You’d spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.

Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. You’d all but forgotten the hectic past week.

And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. “He’s not dead.” Alfred assured. A body, then.

Bruce rushes in front of you, “Jesus, Alfred. What happened?”

The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.

“I was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.”

“Sixty floors off the ground? How’d he even make it?” Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that there’s a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfred’s waistband. In all your time living here, you’d never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruce’s hatred of guns had made sure of that. “Did you shoot him, Alfred?”

Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what you’re looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. “You shot him?”

Alfred gulps, “Yes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.”

“And you do that often? Shoot people?”

“Of course not, Bruce.”

“So you just happened to have a gun on you-”

“Someone was breaking in!”

“-while you were making tea-”

“And the gun is not real.”

“-I can’t imagine what else you’ve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?”

You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the man’s pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadn’t killed him. Sure enough, he hadn’t lied, but brain damage wasn’t entirely off the table yet.

Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, “I don’t use bloody grenades. And I haven’t shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.”

“Most? How many do you have?” Bruce accuses.

A moment passes. “You’ll never find them all.”

The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.

As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldn’t let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.

“Um, Bruce,” you interject, catching both of the men’s attention, “to be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didn’t have his weapon, this could’ve gone way worse. He saved the day.”

Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.

The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, “...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“The shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.” A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. “Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless you’d like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?”

All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, “What about the guy?” He yells after the retreating butler.

Alfred’s bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.

Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, he’d insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone else’s and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, he’d been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught.

As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.

The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.

That’s why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.

And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.

It’s embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that he’d heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you weren’t so ashamed that you’d unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, you’d be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.

The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?

“Citizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesn’t matter: the Riddler’s righteous justice will be delivered this day!” The cameraman declares, poking Bruce’s chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, “Uh... any last words, Wayne?”

One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. You’re not sure why you relate to them both.

Your future husband looks so done with the situation that you’re reassured he’s in no real danger, but you can’t fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he would’ve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.

Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, “Speak up! The world is watching!”

Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.

The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goon’s hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.

The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, “This is getting embarrassing.”

An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.

It’s been a long few weeks.

Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like he’d gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.

Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddler’s followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. He’d been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guard’s way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a “I survived my trip to Gotham!” t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.

The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. He’d be too tired to listen, anyway.

“Go home,” Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didn’t even have mace on him, “I won’t even mention it.”

The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, they’d probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.

After the world’s most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.

It’s been a long few weeks.

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @moonlightreader649​

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman one shot #batman fic #the batman #batman fluff #battinson x reader #battinson #mjwrites #dc

[selfhelpforstudents]

Tips to fight depression

Disclaimer: These are small things that have helped me in the past when I was going through a lot. Thankfully, I am fully healed and love my life. But I know how incredibly hard this battle is - and I also know that it can get better! <3 If you are struggling with mental illnesses please contact a doctor. If you want to talk to someone else about your feelings, please join our self help group on Discord. We’ll be happy to welcome you.

The 5-4-3-2-1-method when awfully anxious. What are five things you can see right now? Are there four things you can touch? How do they feel? Name three things you can hear. Two things you can smell. And now...one positive thought in your mind.

Cry me a river. Let it all out. Cry for as long as you need. Think about the things that make you sad. Make them heard inside your head. And cry. This will release muscle tension and make you feel more relaxed...maybe even numb.

Escape this world and find yourself again in a fictional one. Read a book or watch a show or a movie. Make yourself feel as though you’re the main character. This will create distance between you and your hectic life and problems.

Move. Right now. Get up and move. Move your body. Go for a walk. Maybe even a run. Just get some movement into the moment. Please. Put on some music and dance as if no one is watching.

Do something good for someone else. This is what I’m doing by writing this. Helping people can help YOU. If you want to do this right now, maybe join our group chats and tell your story so more people will know that they are not alone. What I LOVE to do is buying homeless people food and clothes (socks are super important).

Go take a shower and brush your teeth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve probably all been there. Not showering for a long time happens. Not brushing your teeth happens. We survive. And that takes up all of our energy. But right now I want you to take that shower and take care of your body. Please.

Accept that you are ill. Have compassion with yourself. I’ve always felt guilty and despised myself for being depressed and anxious. People tell you “Why can’t you be like everyone else? Why can’t you do this and that?”. I just wanted to be like everyone else. Happy. At least that’s what they all seem to be, right? I hated myself for not being able to feel anything anymore, for being messy, for not showering, not being “a normal person”. People judge and look down on you. Yes, I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. What about it?!  But all that is not my fault. I am ill. I can’t live the lives healthy people live. But hey, that’s okay. God didn’t give me mental stability but he did give me intelligence, a wonderful heart and the most amazing boyfriend.

Last but not least: Let’s get to the peak. Do it yourself. Well yes, you can imagine what I mean. It really helps, researches have found. Having umm...you know...the best part in the end...will make you feel better. And everyone does it.

You are not alone in this. There are so many people who suffer. So many people who even take their own lives. But please stay with us. Please go and see a doctor. Talk to someone. Talk to me. You are not alone.

Love, Sophia

Feel free to follow my Instagram account for some study motivation <3 Instagram

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[sophierequests]

the start of something exciting // academic exposures part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x gn!Reader

A/N: This is one of the most self-indulgent fics I have ever written and I am not sorry about it. I'm currently outlining my term paper for a linguistics seminar, and the idea came to me during that. I am so sorry if you don't care for linguistics, but I just had to include a titbit of my own topic or else I'll go mad.

This is part one of an ongoing miniseries! Find the miniseries masterlist here!

Summary: After a rather uncomfortable encounter with the Dime Lions, Jesper finds himself in the middle of the University District, looking for somewhere to hide. Thankfully, a helping hand isn't too far out of sight.

Genre: Fluff, a tad bit of Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: Talk about Jesper's mother and parental death (you and me both Jesper), bittersweet bonding times, strangers to friends to ???, emotional intimacy (briefly)

No detours. Kaz had been painfully clear about that. Clear enough for Jesper to walk right into one. 

Well, technically it wasn’t his fault - not everything at least. The open gambling table just looked too inviting and the prominent wads of kruge in his pocket basically serenaded him not to let this opportunity pass. How should he have known that all the other supposed gamblers were Dime Lions and that the whole scene had actually been one giant set-up?

What kind of misfortune led him to hightail it through the damned University District of all places passed through him completely. It was a complete instinct to run off as quickly as he could, causing him to be stuck in a maze of lecture halls, student flats and libraries.  So now, he not only had to attempt and navigate the narrow streets and crooked buildings he had barely gotten to know during his brief stay at Ketterdam University, but he also had to do his best to outrun the men following him. It didn’t help that the campus seemingly had been remodelled since then, making his escape route even more difficult than it had to be. And Pekka’s saintsforsaken goons simply didn’t want to let him go. 

Jesper ran and ran until he felt a distinct burn inside his ribcage, restricting his air supply and forcing him to slow down. By now he had thankfully put enough distance between himself and his pursuers to not have them biting at his ankles anymore. He was certain that if he had to keep up this brutal pace, he’d end up fainting and getting caught anyway. It was a foolish thing to do, but when he reached the stairs leading up to another ancient-looking institute, he hoped to be hidden enough to take a quick break. He pressed his back against the cold stone facade behind him, clutching his side to ignore the desperate need for air. He probably should have been a bit more vigilant in choosing his hiding spot, especially since the university had its own security personnel that were more than willing to apprehend any suspicious figures roaming around the premise. But from what he could see, the majority of buildings on campus were already vacated, fallen victim to the scattered attention span of overworked academics. 

That’s what he thought. 

He hadn’t even been able to take a full breath before the door next to him swung open. A pair of unexpectedly strong hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, yanking him inside the intricate institute. As much as he wanted to fight against whoever had the audacity to treat him like an abandoned sack of potatoes, he was too weak to do anything against it. Without as much as a word of introduction, his back was fiercely pushed against the hard wall right next to the door, a hand immediately being smacked over his mouth to keep him quiet. He wanted to say something, but every attempt at formulating a sentence was muffled beyond recognition by the palm forcing his lips shut.

“Shut up for a second, won’t you?” you hissed, cocking your head towards one of the windows to give you a better view of the street in front of the building.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes - a terribly awkward scene for people that had never seen or spoken to each other before. When you reckoned that letting him speak wouldn’t result in another life-and-death situation for either one of you, you carefully removed your hand from his mouth, dismissively wiping it on the fabric of your pants. He almost appeared offended at that gesture. 

You took a brisk step back, granting him a bit of personal space from the previously pretty intimate position you were in. He must have looked like an absolute flustered mess for you to be this wary of him. In all honesty, he was. Your hand had been scorching hot on his skin, close to feeling like it would leave a burn scar. But for some reason, it hadn’t been all that unwelcome. Saints, in some sick and twisted way, he liked it. 

“There may be a whole lot of these bastards running around, but they aren’t ballsy enough to enter an institute building without explicit permission of the dean. Trust me, they tried it before,” you explained calmly, your voice sounding aeons gentler than it had only mere moments ago. Now that you weren’t pressing him up against a wall, you looked a lot softer in general. What he had expected to be his last mortal punishment turned out to be just another exhausted-looking university student that seemed to be equally on edge as he was. “However, I’d still suggest you stay here for a bit longer. They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, so I wouldn’t risk it presenting yourself on a silver platter for the next hour or so.” You paused briefly, biting the inside of your cheek and casting a cautious glare around the opulent foyer. “Follow me.”

This time, you held out your hand, beckoning him to take it and let you pull him away once again. Against his better judgement, he extended his own arm, abiding your bidding with a foreign sense of excitement. Kaz would have probably whacked him with his cane, had he known what exactly his sharpshooter was stumbling into right now. However, Kaz wasn’t here and the rush of adrenaline surging through him was way more interesting to pursue. 

You towed him up the winded marble staircase and through a birch-paneled spacious corridor, passing an array of wooden doors and adjacent hallways. Jesper’s body went into autopilot, not even properly registering the number of turns or stairs taken. He prayed that you’d accompany him back downstairs again when all of this was over because he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to navigate this building on his own.

A bit out of breath, you reached a set of arched double doors which you promptly unlocked, letting go of his hands to do so. You pushed them open, leading him into a comfortable, high-ceilinged room, presumably a library of some sort. Jesper really wasn’t a person to be enchanted by the prestigious academic decorum, but even he had to admit that the dark oaken shelves and the massive collection of worn and well-read tomes instilled a certain overwhelming sense of respect inside him. 

He followed you to a wine-red couch that must have been at least three shades lighter when it was still unused. You pulled out a rattling box of matches, lighting the wick inside the oil lamp smoothly before blowing it out with one swift breath. Meanwhile, he watched you with a keenness bordering on religious, not even once taking his eyes off you, even though his whole body told him to do anything but stand still. He had been so fascinated by the way you weaved through the endless hallways as if it was second nature, and now, he felt the same sensation watching your features become more defined in the warm glow of the lamp you just lit. It should have been too mundane to catch his attention this way, but somehow, it still did. He didn’t even know your name, and yet you felt eerily familiar to him, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in ages.

“Alright,” you mumbled under your breath, dragging out the last syllable impossibly long. You let yourself fall back onto the padded couch behind you, gesturing to the empty space next to you. He was hesitant at first, but judging by the fact that you hadn’t strangled him yet, agreeing to your offer couldn’t cause much more harm.

“Uhm, I…” he started, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn’t every day that ended with him being shoved inside an abandoned university building by an admittedly quite attractive stranger, so his rehearsed phrases weren’t all that useful to him. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my ass earlier, I don’t think that I would have been able to outrun them on my own.” An awkward chuckle left his lips while one of his hands instinctively shot up to rub the nape of his neck. It frustrated him that you had somehow managed to reduce his usual flirty persona to a flustered mess that stumbled over his own words. “My name’s Jesper Fahey by the way,” he added quickly, scolding himself for sputtering out his full name as if he needed to rectify something in front of a court.

You laughed in response to his stiffness, allowing your eyes to carefully scan his tense expression for the first time since hauling him inside. He was undeniably handsome; his piercing gray eyes and silky brown skin made him look so out of place in a ragged city such as Ketterdam. 

“A pleasure,” you finally spoke up, shifting in your seat to tuck one leg underneath you. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, but please just call me Y/N, formalities aren’t really my thing.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when you said that. Simply judging from your outward appearance, he could have bet that you were another one of those stuck-up, spoiled trust-fund babies that only decided to go to university to please their parents. It was a horribly surface-level assumption, but that’s what he was used to from his own, albeit very short, experience here. It was refreshing to see that you seemed to go completely against his initial beliefs, acting more as if you’d belong to the Dregs than to a prestigious institute such as this. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do to piss them off this much? They’ve been on campus quite a few times; prying on the female students or trying to make profit by stealing from the vulnerable ones, but they never actively chased someone.”

Jesper swallowed thickly, contemplating whether he should just tell you the truth or whether he should opt for telling you a quickly thrown-together lie. He mindlessly let his hands move to the seams of his belt, unintentionally revealing the two revolvers hanging from his hips. This mishap went unnoticed by him until he saw your eyes fixating on his sides.

Shit. You sure as hell wouldn’t be this hospitable after learning who he really was.

Instead of looking shocked by this revelation though, you shook your head in amusement, leaning back into the couch and prying your eyes away from his guns. “Let me guess, the Dregs?”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“As I said, I guessed. And you’re way too pretty to belong to any other gang. These idiots chasing after you are more or less living proof of that.” A sudden rush of warmth spread over his cheeks, almost feverishly travelling down to his neck. He was used to being flirted with or complimented, but your remark sounded so genuine, even though you almost said it casually.

Since Jesper was still haggling with the right words to give you an appropriate answer, you took matters into your own hand. You quickly pushed the conversation in a different direction, talking about yourself a bit more whilst also asking him about himself. And as time went on, he began to ease into the situation, marvelling at how simple it had been for you to make him feel comfortable. 

He learned that you were just as old as him and currently studying to get your master's degree. Well, you were in the first semester of your master's degree, but that was still a lot further than he had gotten. You told him that you were studying linguistics, a subject he hadn’t really had any idea what it was really about before you started talking about it. He still didn't quite understand what it was, but he knew that it had something to do with languages, grammar and a lot of reading. The reason for you being inside the department this late, and also the reason why you had a key, was that you worked for the research programme of your field, which granted you access to basically the entire building whenever you needed it. And since you preferred studying alone, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that you’d be here until the night. Jesper believed that it had to be pure divine intervention, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“So, what do you intend on doing after you finished your degree?” he asked sheepishly, hoping that his tone didn’t sound too condescending. He just wasn’t sure what one might do with a piece of paper that told others about their knowledge of transitive verbs or noun phrases - whatever these things were.

“If my thesis goes well and my professors like my research, I’ll probably work on getting my doctorate.” He raised his brows almost comically. You had spent the last few years of your life studying, not even taking one semester off to do Saints know what, and that wasn’t enough? You wanted to get another degree? On one hand, he admired your dedication to your field, but on the other hand, he was slightly frightened of you.

“I don’t quite understand,” he continued, his interest growing. “What does one…do with linguistics? Like, I get that it’s a lot of reading and writing, but what is it good for?”

Thankfully, you didn’t take his genuine confusion as an offence. “Linguistics isn’t just simply talking about grammar and words. It’s also figuring out what’s behind it. It’s about finding patterns and drawing conclusions.” Your gaze wandered over his form, lingering on his cheeks for a brief moment before you resumed your explanation. “Knowing why things are the way they are can help us in recognising these patterns in the future. Without you having to tell me, I can safely assume that you grew up in Novyi Zem.” The assessment shot out of your mouth so quickly that Jesper almost choked on his own spit. But you weren’t finished. “Don’t look at me like that. Your speech is very audibly influenced by Zemeni, so that’s an easy thing to figure out. What’s a bit more difficult to figure out is where exactly you grew up. But judging by the way you talk, you probably lived on a farm of some sort. At least during the formative years of your language development. And you were probably mainly raised by a masculine parental figure, your vocabulary tells me just as much.” 

He froze, suddenly thinking that listening to Kaz wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. There was no way that you just figured all of that out by just listening to him speak. Absolutely not. And if that was the case, he was even more intimidated.

“You…you only figured that out now? By hearing me talk? That’s impossible,” he retorted, dumbfounded.

“It’s not impossible at all. It’s simply forensic linguistics. I worked through it in my bachelor’s thesis, a hefty but terribly intriguing topic,” you laughed, watching his face contort into an even more confused expression. “We don’t shape the words, they shape us. You think that you have a firm grip on what you say and what you don’t say, while in all actuality, you have no power over the words you know or don’t know. Every sentence, every word, even every syllable belonged to someone else before it belonged to you. And there are certain things, ways and methods of expressing yourself, that belong to a group of people just as definite as their vocabulary.”

Even though his head felt as if it might burst at the seams of his hairline, he was beginning to understand. Slowly, but surely. Academics really have never been his strong suit, so he didn’t expect to ever grasp the concept fully.

A heavy period of silence followed, which he had half-heartedly anticipated being uncomfortable. The anticipated tension never came, instead, you simply sat there; thinking, observing, and somehow, speaking in your own way.

“You were right,” he said suddenly, catching both of you off-guard. You raised your brows, cocking your head so little that it was barely noticeable. But he noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing.

“About what?” you asked tentatively, coaxing him to continue.

He swallowed again; once, twice. Hoping to clear the obstruction that had formed in his throat. He had the strong urge to tell you about himself, more than he already had. He wanted to tell you about his mother, the farm, himself. He wanted, but he also feared. You were basically a stranger to him; a stranger with a name. It would be weird to dump his whole dramatic backstory on you within a few hours of knowing you, wouldn’t it?

“You were right about me.” The answer spilt out of his mouth before he could form a proper game plan. “My da planted jurda for a living. I mean, he still does, so I suppose speaking of him in past tense would give someone as vigilante as you the wrong idea.” You chuckled at his newfound humour regarding your occupation, folding your hands in your lap as you waited for him to continue. “I used to help him out a lot; planting, digging, occasionally stealing the liquor from his cabinet because he didn’t drink it anyway. It wasn’t fun work, but it taught me a few things, and apparently, it also taught me how to speak ranchy enough for you to read me like an open book. I bet you’d be able to do the same to my father if you’d know him, once he opens his mouth he won’t close it until you force him to.”

“I see, that’s where you get it from,” you remarked with a grin, earning a playful jab from his knee in response.

“He’s a good man; difficult, but good. I put him through more trouble than I should, but I don’t think that ever made him think differently of me.” The thought of his father spending his days and nights alone on his farm, alone and worried about the fate of his son who he believed to be safe and sound at university, made his heart feel heavy. He began fiddling with his rings, shooing away the memories of his father’s disappointed face when he told him that he lost all of his money. “ A prim and proper Kaelish gentleman to the very marrow of his bones.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, staring him down with such intensity that you might as well could just stare through him. “You’re Kaelish.” The statement sounded more like a question, underlined by the quizzical expression present on your face. “That, I wouldn’t have been able to guess.” He smiled, almost as if he had evened out the score in the unspoken quarrel you had going on. You looked at him for a while longer, mustering every scar and feature thoroughly. If you had been someone more serious like Kaz or Matthias, he would have probably found some sort of malice in the way your eyes fixated on him. But there was no ill will in your gaze, rather a sincere curiosity he couldn’t quite comprehend. Another point added to the exhaustive list of things he didn’t understand about you.

“I love him, but we haven’t talked in quite some time now. Ever since I moved to Ketterdam, we have sort of grown apart.”

“What brings someone like you to a place like Ketterdam in the first place? Becoming a gang member surely wasn’t your dream job, was it?”

“The work on the farm wasn’t for me. Da knew it and I knew it too, so he sent me off to study here. Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy to find out that I didn’t continue my studies.”

“So you chose to become a sharpshooter instead?” You nodded towards the shimmering pearl-handled revolvers that he presented openly by now. 

A fleeting memory of his mother passed through his mind; it always did whenever he thought about his guns, cherries, or his Fabrikator abilities. Bittersweet feelings washed over him, and he knew that it would be foolish to tell you about what happened to her. However, what was one more foolish choice at the end of a day during which he had constantly staggered and stumbled?

“Actually, my ma taught me how to shoot when I was a child. She could have shot flies had she wanted to. But she was too kind to even think about harming them.” Jesper plucked at the cuff of his dressing shirt, straightening it out like his mother did when he was still a child. It soothed him; helped him to keep the tears at bay whenever he remembered her. “You should probably thank her for making your assessment of me so much easier. She taught me everything I needed to know about living on the Zemeni frontier and what it means to be…me.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady then,” you gave him a comforting smile, having caught the sadness that laced his voice. 

“She truly was…,” Jesper sighed. “She died when I was seven. She had been…sick, so I guess it was for the better. Even though it doesn’t feel like it at all. My father and I rarely ever speak about her now, but I know that he thinks about her every day. And so do I.”

The unexpected feeling of a warm hand on his leg almost caused him to jump. One of your hands had moved from idly resting in your lap, to laying on his thigh, gently squeezing it as a silent way to assure him that you understood. Every muscle ending jumped into action underneath your fingers, willing to do your bidding and relax from their previous tension. 

“Death never feels like a blessing to the loved ones that are left behind. I’m sure she would have wanted to see you grow up and it’s sad that she couldn’t. I’m just as sure that she would be so proud to see who you have become now.” You slowly retreated your hand from its spot on his thigh, thinking that it might have overstayed its welcome. 

This couldn’t have been further away from the truth. He hated that he relished your affection this much; he didn’t even really know you after all. The Barrel wasn’t soft or gentle, it didn’t come to soothe him when he was upset. It didn’t give, it just took. The touch he had gotten used to was either used for pain or for pleasure, not genuine comfort. It frightened him how much this small gesture meant to him.

“I, uhm, thank you. That does mean a lot.” More than you can probably imagine.

You didn’t say anything, simply giving him a sympathetic look in order to not disturb the quiet understanding between the two of you.

Even though you really wanted him to stay, the ringing of eleven bells told you that it was time for him to leave. You had been talking for close to three hours now, and still, it didn’t feel like it was enough. There were still so many stories to tell and secrets to uncover. However, you couldn’t justify keeping him with you any longer.

When he noticed the way your gaze shot to the wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the room, he straightened his back, realising that this was the end. “I should probably get going,” he rasped, the unwillingness to leave also manifesting through his voice. “I have taken up enough of your time, and I’m sure my boss is already fuming because I didn’t come back on time.”

“Do you want me to show you the way downstairs? It can be a bit of a maze sometimes, so I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t remember all of the twists and turns we took.” 

“Please.” A toothy grin spread across his face as he stood up, offering his hand to pull you to your feet. 

The walk to the door was mainly held in silence, only broken by the occasional creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. It was comfortable, way more comfortable than any second spent alone at the Slat could be. He didn’t want to leave, but Kaz would rip off his head if he delayed his goodbye even longer.

A violent gust of air hit you after opening the door, making both of you shiver. The night was way colder than you had expected, and your flimsy sweater didn’t provide enough warmth to keep your teeth from chattering. Suddenly, you regretted leaving your coat in your flat this morning.

“Are you cold?” Jesper asked, having recovered from his initial reaction to the wind quite well by now. You gave him an overdramatic eye-roll, resisting the urge to slap him - only lightly, of course.

“I didn’t expect the weather to turn this quickly. And I certainly didn’t expect that I would be staying this late,” you retorted, sticking out your tongue at the lanky man next to you.

He laughed at your childish reply to his question, shaking his head and provoking a few of his short defined curls to fall onto his forehead. Before you could say anything else, he shrugged off his jacket, moving towards you to drape it over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine. I’m not cold. These are quite cosy,” he said, patting the thick fabric of his vest. 

“Jesper, I have a ten-minute walk back to my flat, a little cold won’t kill me. Your walk is distinctively longer.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jesper assured, tugging the jacket closer around you to keep you from giving it back to him. “I still owe you after all. You genuinely saved my ass today, and this is the least I can do.”

“I-”

“Shush.” He held up his index finger, letting it hover only a few centimetres away from your face. “Also, this gives me a reason to come and see you again. Only if you want to see me again, of course. If not, you can just pin the jacket to the front door of the Crow Club, I’m sure that after this, I’ll have to watch the door often enough to see it.”

“I’d love to see you again. Albeit, preferably be in less drastic circumstances,” you beamed, tentatively letting your arms slip through the sleeves of his jacket. You weren’t all that cold anymore, but whether that was because of the jacket or the burning heat in your cheeks wasn’t relevant. “I’m here basically every day, so the chances of missing me are very low. Just ask for me at the reception and I’ll come down. There are quite a few places to hide away and talk. And who knows, maybe I’ll even invite you back to my place if I like you enough.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He gave you one last wink before casually strolling off towards the Slat. He turned around once more just to check whether you were still standing there. Sadly, you were already gone, probably scrambling to get home before midnight. 

His heart pounded inside his chest at the mere prospect of seeing you again. You had done something to him that he couldn’t quite explain, and it made him even more restless than he already was. He was really done for, and there was nothing that he could do to slow his descent into the void that was you.

It was well past one bell in the morning when Jesper stumbled into the Slat. He had been so lost in thought that he completely lost his way, ending up somewhere in the Zelver District. He had hoped that the rest of the Crows would be busy doing Saints know what, and that he could just swiftly stalk upstairs unnoticed. But it seemed like he had already exhausted his luck for the day.

“Jesper!” Inej’s voice rang from the living room just as he had tried to sneak past it. Pretending that he didn’t hear her would be futile, so he opted to just face whatever might await him inside.

Nina and Inej were sitting around the small table in the middle of the room, a long-forgotten plate of waffles stood abandoned on top of it. Their previously anxiety-filled faces changed into ones of relief when they saw the sharpshooter enter.

“Thank the Saints,” Nina exclaimed, putting a hand over her heart as if she just lived down a heart attack. “We thought you were kidnapped! Kaz was close to going out there himself to look for you.”

“Be glad we talked him out of that idea,” Inej grumbled. “He was fuming.”

“What took you so long?”

“Dime Lions.” He thought about telling them the truth, they were his friends after all. But if Kaz caught wind of the fact that he somehow managed to not only walk right into a trap but also waste the majority of his time pouring his heart out to a complete stranger, he wouldn’t react amicably to it. “They chased me, so I had to hide and wait it out until they gave up. But hey, I managed to finish the job, just with a little bit of delay.”

“And you also managed to lose your jacket?” 

“The word ‘losing’ is a bit relative, isn’t it?” he replied, a knowing smirk on his lips which left the girls too confused to question his antics any further.

He knew what he was talking about and that was enough.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light @pomagranteseeds @treasureofmy-heart

Jesper Fahey: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @writingmysanity @fall-writes

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows

[ikehoe]

Seduction [Clavis Lelouch x Reader][Ikemen Prince][SMUT]

[Clavis Lelouch x Reader] [Ikemen Prince][Smut]

Characters ↬ Clavis Lelouch x Fem! Reader

Rating ↬ Explicit [Smut – mdni]     

Tags ↬ Smut, Gentle PIV, implied first time on Reader’s end, Reader takes the initiative, Suitor is tied up (willingly), Blowjob 

Warning ↬ Unprotected PIV 

Description ↬ Contrary to everyone in Rhodolite’s beliefs, the third Prince, Clavis Lelouch, has been the perfect lover for you. Attentive, almost to a fault, fun-loving (depends on your definition of fun), and loves you more than you could have ever imagined. The only thing you can complain about is his reluctance to go all the way. That isn’t to say you haven’t done plenty, but it seems like every time you two are about to cross that line, he seems to pull back and focus on you instead. So now you’re on a mission to get to the bottom of this (and to the next level).  

A/N ↬ This fic was born out of my horny thoughts after reading Clavis’ engagement story. I highly recommend you check it out! Apparently, our favourite prankster is actually a GENTLEMAN! Anyways, hope you enjoy it. :)

Tag List ↬ @and-then-she-died-tm @kpop-and-otome @curious-skybunny @lordsister @aquagirl1978 @kleeps @ikesimp100 @chaosangel767 @rhodolitesroseforclavis @themysticalbeing @randonauticrap @violettduchess @atelier-maroron @otomegameinlove

Disclaimer ↬ I do not own the rights to Ikemen Prince or any of the Ikemen series games. 

Wordcount ↬ 3k

Your hands were busy, toiling away at the dough that would eventually become the sweet delicacies that your lover so often craved. However, your mind was elsewhere, recounting the events from two nights ago. The way Prince Clavis’ large hands skated so delicately across your skin, lips pressing the gentlest of kisses down your body until he reached your legs, lavishing you again and again with his warm tongue. His gentleness in handling you was something that you weren’t used to at first. After all, the one thing that every inhabitant of the Rhodolite castle could agree on was Prince Clavis’ nickname of Hellcat. But it was different with you. He was different with you. It was like he was a man possessed with thoughts of nothing but you, and as much as you felt guilty about consuming the third Prince’s mind, a part of you reveled in it. You couldn’t even count with your fingers and toes how many times Clavis had appeared in your room at night and proceeded to spend hours upon hours caressing you, leaving his mark on you, making sure you were fully satisfied. The wanton moans that escaped your lips during his visits were things you couldn’t even think of without turning a brilliant shade of vermillion. 

But, despite how attentive your lover was, despite how generous he was, he never seemed to want to take that next step with you. Oh, you’d tried. Numerous times. Throwing aside all semblance of your pride, you’d once surprised him after he came back from his daily duties, dropped down onto your knees before him, and began to weave your delicate little fingers through the mess of contraptions that was his belt, only to be immediately swept up by the Prince and gently placed onto his couch. The situation immediately reversed, and he dug into the apex of your thighs with his tongue, bringing you to the peak of pleasure again and again until you had completely forgotten about your plans to spoil him for once. 

Not this time. You were solid in your resolve to bring things to the next level. The amount of thought and preparation you’d put into this plan of seduction was no easy feat. You’d be hard-pressed to admit it, but you likely spent too much time not paying attention to your studies and trying to imagine what scenario Clavis would most likely crumble under. You’d even asked Jin for help, receiving dubious advice to wear some very low-cut, cleavage-showing corsets and tops. Thankfully, he’d finally given you some useful advice and suggested a small town square boutique with a secret section in the back of outfits designed to stoke desire within your partner. 

And that’s how you ended up in this current situation, wearing scraps of silk and lace that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. To the tailor’s credit, every silken scrap of clothing on your body did the perfect job at accentuating your assets. The fabric fell perfectly against your bosom and highlighted the perkiness of your rear, but the cherry on top was the lace garter that came with the outfit that hugged the flesh of your upper thigh in all the right ways. You knew even Clavis, with his odd resolve, wouldn’t be able to resist this. What was even more thrilling were the fabric handcuffs that the shopkeep insisted you have for free after explaining your embarrassing situation. 

“I promise, I promise. Even the strongest-willed man won’t be able to resist begging you to feel something after you tie him up with these!” 

You sure hoped that the shop-keep was right. The sound of Clavis’ bedroom door opening kicked you into high gear and you immediately shuffled around, pulling on your night robe and arranging yourself into a perfectly inconspicuous pose on the couch in his bedroom. 

“Clavis! You’re back!” You exclaimed, excitement and nerves rampant in your expression. 

His signature smirk had butterflies running through your stomach, and you couldn’t help but return it with a smile of your own. You didn’t miss the way his golden eyes raked over your body, taking in the unusual robe covering you. His gaze lingered for a beat too long on your shapely legs. The way he regarded you was not unlike a beast that would size up its prey before pouncing. The barely concealed heat behind his gaze caused a warmth to spread through your core, and you knew it was now or never for your plan, lest you spend another night being ravaged by Clavis instead of the other way around. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. And here I thought I would have to be the one to surprise you in your bedroom today, yet here you are,” he drawled, approaching you with the grace of a jungle cat. It took you a long time to get used to the peculiar way your lover showed affection for you, but behind that mischievous smirk and heated gaze, you could see his love clear as day. 

“Wait! Close your eyes,” you cried out, both hands raised in the air as you willed your lover to go along with your little plan. 

The smirk momentarily slipped off your lover’s face in favour of confusion. “Why?” His eyebrows furrowed, then half a beat later, his usual smirk returned to his handsome, delicate features. 

“I… I want to play a game with you. Please sit down over there!” You exclaimed. The nerves you were experiencing were evident in your voice, and you prayed that for once in his life, your lover would just listen to something someone else said without any additional questions. “It’ll be fun, I promise!” 

And he’d be damned if he wasn’t intrigued by what you were up to. Your flushed cheeks highlighted just how adorably inexperienced you were. That thin robe did little to cover up the silhouette of your body and your suspiciously revealing clothing underneath. It seemed like you’d even applied a heavier hand with your makeup today. Your perfectly plump lips were darker than usual, the red of an apple dipped into a glaze of sugary syrup. All he could think about was how irresistible you were. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when Clavis began to make his way leisurely over to the couch, one hand playfully covering his striking eyes. It was now or never. You took the chance and pounced, grabbing his wrists with your tiny hands and pressing them over his head. The speed you tied a knot binding his wrists together would have put even the best sailor to shame. After all, you were motivated by your drive to see your lover come apart for you.

At the sudden movement, Clavis’ eyes widened momentarily, and he gazed down at you. Although clear alarm bells were ringing through his head, it wasn’t to the point where he felt like he wanted to stop this little ruse just yet. 

Before he could open his mouth to question you, you pressed your lips against his, gently peppering kisses against him repeatedly until that urge inside you to turn it into more began to spread throughout your body. His eyes were half-lidded, looking up at you with all the affection in the world, and you began to slowly slip the robe off of your shoulders, revealing inch-by-inch of your soft skin. Thankfully, the shopkeep’s words seemed to ring true as your lover’s eyes were glued to your every action. His gaze even roamed your chest many times, despite him saying that he was not a breast man – though that was before he’d seen yours in all their glory. 

By the time you had completely dropped your robe, Clavis’ mouth was watering in anticipation, wanting to feast on your delicate skin and honeyed core until both you and him were satisfied. Instead, however, you seemed intent on continuing to play this game. He watched as you lowered yourself until you were at eye level with his crotch, painfully strained against the fabric of his pants. 

“My dearest little bunny, what do you think you’re doing?” He choked out, managing to sound somewhat coherent despite his heart pounding against his chest. When had you become such a seductress? The herculean effort he had to put in was already bad enough, diverting your attention away from that. Still, now you were intent on teasing him? When he first confessed his love for you, he promised to always be the perfect gentleman to you, and the perfect gentleman made sure his lady was always satisfied. He also knew how much your reputation would take a hit just by associating with him, the Hellcat of Rhodolite. So he’d promised himself that until you were wed, he wouldn’t bed you. But now… with you standing in front of him, licking your plush lips with that seductive tongue of yours, all of his resolve seemed to be crumbling away. 

“I just wanted to make you feel good this time, Clavis. After all, you’re always the one making me… you know….” And there it was, that telltale heat rising to your cheeks once more, causing you to shed the seductress façade for a second to shyly look away from Clavis’ intense gaze. You nervously fiddled with his belt for the next couple of minutes before his voice interrupted you from your goal. 

“As much as I’m flattered that you want to spend so much attention on lil’ ole me, gentlemen make sure that their ladies are happy before considering their own happiness. How about you let me run my tongue along those luscious legs before feasting on that pretty little cunt, hm?” The words that rolled off his tongue were positively sinful. 

If you had given it a couple more seconds of thought, you were sure that you’d give in faster than Yves could fall into a trap hole. You quickly shook your head and rid your lover of his pants, watching with bated breath as his impressive manhood sprung up, hard, throbbing, and positively begging for your attention. You tentatively brought your head closer to his length and gave it a kitten lick from the base to the tip, making sure to suck with your mouth so he could feel every movement. 

“Nngh—wait, hold on, I—,” Clavis stammered – actually stammered, while trying to control himself to not immediately release and spill his seed mere seconds after you began. He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but something about you made him feel like he was a pre-pubescent boy who had first seen a pair of shapely, bare legs again. 

Not heeding your lover’s muted warnings, you continued to bob your head up and down on his length until his cock was throbbing. It was odd – you were doing this solely for his pleasure. Still, the warmth that was pooling at your lower belly was starting to become uncomfortable. You were sure if you didn’t get some sort of release in the next ten minutes you would spontaneously combust and end up scrapping this whole idea in favour of begging Clavis to make you feel good. 

“Mm, I want to taste you, Clavis,” you mumbled, purely out of your own selfish whims. You wanted to experience every part of him, including his seed. 

And those were the magic words that had his hips stuttering, thrusting into your mouth while he shot his thick seed into your mouth, over and over. You had heard from your friends that the taste could often be utterly repulsive, but not your Clavis. Apparently, a diet of trying out weird food combinations could do a man good because even swallowing his seed seemed to have an aphrodisiacal effect on you. You squirmed around in your position, kneeling before him, trying to obtain some relief from the wanting in your core. 

“Who knew my little bunny could be this bad? Hm? You even swallowed every last drop of me,” Clavis purred, fingers twitching as he longed to run them through your hair. But that was enough – experiencing the heavenly warmth of being able to release into your pretty little mouth was enough for him. Once again, before he could open his mouth and beg you to take the restraints off of his wrists, you surprised him by standing up and placing yourself on his lap. The softness of your rear pressed up so closely against his groin had his cock stirring to life once more, and he mentally chastised himself for not being able to resist your charms. 

“How about you let me treat you now? It’s only fair,” he groaned, unable to tear his gaze away from yours, especially once you began to gently grind against his muscular thighs. 

“Mm… tempting offer, but how about no?” The slight relief you got from moving yourself up and down against his thigh was euphoric. You were reaching your release embarrassingly quickly with just that little bit of friction. You were sure he could feel how absolutely soaked you were, and even that added to the whole sinfulness of the situation. 

“Please, my love….” Clavis murmured, gaze needy and desperate as he felt your arousal drip down his thighs. 

Gods, you deserved an award for denying your lover when he looked so vulnerable and yielding to your whims. “How about this? I’ll untie your restraints under one condition.” And the way he immediately nodded had you holding back a giggle. “I’ll untie you as long as you promise me you’ll make love to me tonight – and not just … you know, licking me … there… but I want to feel you. All of you.”

It wasn’t surprising that your lover would immediately take you up on your offer, despite hesitating while his rational brain tried to sway him back on the side of preserving your innocence. However, it seemed like his desire for you won out in the end as he eagerly agreed, and you unleashed his hands, only to have him grip your upper thighs tightly and lay you down on the couch. It was almost comical how quickly your roles reversed. He gently ran his finger up and down your folds, collecting your arousal, and then tasted it, uttering an absolutely sinful groan in response. 

“Will you really be so cruel as to not let me taste you tonight?” He grumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead as he looked down at you with as much of a puppy-dog look as he could muster. Which, to Clavis, looked more like a wolf in poorly disguised sheep’s clothing. 

“I want to feel you now, Clavis. You can… do that… later,” you blushed. Then, before you could continue with anything else, he began to press his length against your entrance. The delicious stretch of his manhood was enough to have you squirm underneath him. It stung, but you knew it would, and he immediately stilled to not hurt you anymore. 

“I’m sorry, my little bunny. It’ll only hurt for a little bit more, okay?” He murmured, eyes immediately filling with concern. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to Clavis being sweet with you, but this level of gentleness was something you didn’t see from the third Prince every day. He nuzzled into your neck as though you were the most cherished thing to him. 

After a few seconds of adjusting, you quietly whispered that you were ready. Ever the obliging lover, you felt him slowly ease his manhood into you until he was fully sheathed. There were absolutely no words that could describe how perfect he felt in your core. It was odd – even his length was curved in just the right way to have you seeing stars with just the first push. You couldn’t help the incoherent babble that began to fall from your lips as he continued thrusting into you, hitting that spot in you every single time. If this is what you were missing out on, you would have to have a long talk with Clavis after about his cruelty for depriving you of this pleasure. 

“My gods, you feel better than anything I could ever dream of,” he murmured, eyes furrowed in concentration as he attempted to prolong your first time with him as much as possible. “How am I supposed to think about anything but your little cunt from now on?” It was almost impossible how well your tight walls formed around him and fluttered with every one of his movements. As if he wasn’t obsessed with you and everything about you already. 

“I’m – I’m getting close, Clavis. Please, I want us to come together,” you begged, feeling that heat begin to spread throughout your body. With one final thrust, your walls fluttered around his length, and you were thrown into the most intense release you’d ever experienced in your entire life. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and that radiant hot pleasure had you squirming against your lover’s body, quickly throwing you into oversensitivity as he continued to thrust into you. 

You barely registered your lover’s groan as he released, covering your fluttering walls with his thick, white seed. Then, finally, both of you began to still against each other, fully satiated and gleaming with that post-coital glow. 

Clavis chanced a look down to your face at the sight of you, hair mussed, lips quirked into a small but satisfied smile, and breasts heaving with each deep breath. It was enough to make his heart clench with just how much he loves you. Enough to make him worry that he could never be as good of a man as you deserved despite his best efforts. Enough to keep him up at night, thinking of new ways to make sure you had to rely on him and could never leave his grasp. Enough to make him want to spend every waking second beside you, despite his lifelong goal of wanting to take down Chevalier. Before he could continue spiraling down a path he was familiar with, your gentle voice brought him back to the present. 

“I love you, Clavis,” you cooed, with beautiful, clear eyes reflecting his face. “That was amazing… Why didn’t you want us to do that earlier?” 

“It’s a bit of a shame for me to admit this, my little bunny, but I only ever want to be the perfect gentleman to you. The perfect gentleman doesn’t take away his lover’s innocence until she’s fully committed to him… and so I’ll have to ask for your forgiveness,” Clavis explained, eyes searching for a shred of anger, indignance, or resentment in yours. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve been fully committed since I first accepted your feelings.” 

“I thought we could take it a step further than that, my love. You’re the most important person in the world to me, and I’d rather die than give you up. Will you do me the honours of becoming my wife?” 

And after your teary acceptance, you ended up having a couple more rounds of deliciously passionate, sinful sex with the man you held dearest to your heart. That’s also how you found out that Clavis had chosen an engagement ring for you since the first day you met. Every moment after that was carefully tailored and thought through to ensure that you’d end up falling in love with him. 

And despite your suspicions about whether you actually won your little experiment, it suddenly didn’t matter, as long as he could be by your side for the rest of your life. 

#clavis lelouch smut #clavis lelouch #clavis lelouch fic #ikepri smut #ikepri clavis #ikepri #ikemen prince clavis #ikemen prince smut #ikemen prince fic #ikepri fic #ikepri writing #ikeprince

[forever-rogue]

💫💞helloo!! your fics always make my day and are a joy to read. thank you so much for giving us lovely stories💫

meet cutes are my favorites ever, i was wondering if I could request a coffee shop meet cute for soft tired boy steven 🥺 maybe the classic spilled coffee all over you meet cute? 🥺🥺

AN | Okay but this probably my favorite trope ever!! 🥰 Enjoy!

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 1.3k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy yawn escaped your lips as you stepped through the doors of your favorite café. You’d just gotten off another overnight shift at the hospital, ready for sleep more than anything, but that wasn’t in the cards just yet. You still had plenty of things to do at home before you could relax, so the only logical solution to that was coffee, naturally. You gave Jenn, the barista you saw almost every time, your order before paying and leaving a generous tip as you waited for the warm, tasty cup of goodness. The place was crowded for it being so early in the morning, and you stood in the corner to stay out of the way and wait. 

It seemed to take forever, for which you blamed absolutely no one, but when you heard your name being called you practically bounded over to the counter. The sweet, wonderful caffeine was calling out to you, enchanting as a siren.

You were so focused on your task of grabbing your coffee (and fresh poppyseed muffin of course) that you were most definitely not paying attention. So wrapped up and out of it that you crashed right into a warm, thick wall of muscle. You were stopped in your tracks with a small oof as the other customer's coffee smashed between the two of you and all over your scrubs and his shirt.

"Fuck me," the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. The warm liquid, thankfully no longer scalding, quickly soaked into your top, effectively crushing your spirit. You looked at the poor man you'd done this to, ready to apologize and beg for forgiveness, "I am so, so sorry."

It was only when you looked up, that you realized how very handsome he was. Oh. Oh. You weren't prepared for that. The look of exasperation on his face quickly melted into a bemused smile as he watched you. He was handsome in every sense of the word and it almost rendered you speechless. At least he was wearing a dark shirt, you supposed. 

"It's alright," he insisted softly and you were practically willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Did he have to be handsome and sound like that? He tossed the crushed cup into the trash and went to fetch some napkins, "accidents happen."

"But it was totally my fault," you reminded him, casting a weary look at your own coffee sitting and waiting for you, "I got so excited about my coffee that I totally forgot about anything else.”

"Busy morning?" he asked as he tried to soak up some of the coffee from his shirt.

"Long night," you smiled softly, "I'm on the overnight shift at the hospital right now. But still…I-I'm sorry. Please, let me at least buy a new coffee or a new shirt or something. Dry cleaning maybe? I think it could be salvaged."

"Don't worry," he put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "really, it's fine. This will wash right out. Plus the coffee was almost empty. Please, don't let me keep you from yours."

"I…" you nodded softly when you realized he wasn't going to budge and let you get him back for anything, "okay. I hope you have a much better rest of your day."

"I'd say my day is going pretty well already," and he definitely had the most gorgeous smile on top of it, "I hope yours gets better, darling."

He held up his hand and offered you a little wave before turning to leave. But…you didn't want him to. Not yet anyway. You had already made a large fool out of yourself and quickly decided that it couldn't really get much worse. So you just went with it, "wait! I, ugh, I didn't get your name."

"Steven," he turned around, bemused twinkle on his dark eyes, "Steven-with-a-v."

"It was nice to meet you, Steven," you felt like a puppy as you just watched him with big, innocent eyes. He asked for your name, which you easily gave; listening to him repeat it almost made you weak in the knees, "see you around."

"I hope so," he agreed softly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For reasons you weren't willing to admit out loud to yourself, you made it even more of a point to go to the small café after your shift ended. Totally just because you wanted to support a small local business and liked the coffee. Totally only for those reasons. Definitely.

But when you saw the man that had been occupying a lot more of your thoughts than you wanted to admit again, your heart skipped a few beats and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were sitting at the small counter by the window, flicking through the news on your phone and trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Should you ignore him? Should you go and speak to him? Should you-

"Hello again," his voice quickly pulled you out of your little dilemma as he sat down next to you, "fancy meeting you here."

"Steven! I - ugh…umm. Hi," great. Now he was going to think you were a stammering idiot on top of it all. Your face flushed with warmth as he watched you intently, "its nice to see you again. This time I didn't even spill on you!"

Fucking hell. You might as well just run out and never look back.

"Well I suppose there's still plenty of time to do that," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he nudged your leg with his, "but we don't have to do that either. We can just talk and drink coffee."

"You want to talk to me?" your eyes widened in surprise as he tutted lightly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "like…really?"

"Yes," he chuckled softly as a wave of dark crimson crept into his cheeks and ears, "I've seen you around before. A lot of times actually. I just never knew…how to come up to you and say anything. You made it easy when we had our little fiasco."

"You've been…wanting to talk to me?" you pointed between the two of you as he just nodded. Huh. Maybe you weren't the only fool around. He bit the inside of his cheek before answering in the affirmative, "and here I thought it was just me! That's…you could have just come up and said anything."

"I didn't know exactly what I'd say or how I'd casually go about it," he shrugged innocently, "but to be fair, darling, you didn't say anything either!"

"I…got nervous," you confessed, "but maybe I'm glad for my lack of attention and the squishing of your poor coffee."

"Would you like to go to dinner?" he blurted out before realization crossed his features, "obviously in the night time, not early in the morning. If I'm overstepping-"

"Like a date?" your heart was practically bursting out of your chest.

"Like a date," he confirmed, "but we don't have to or anything but…yeah."

"I'd love to," you grinned eagerly, leaning your body towards him, "really, Steven. I think that would be lovely."

"Great," his whole face lit up with excitement, "its a date then."

"It's a date," you couldn't remember the last time you were this excited for anything, let alone a date with a handsome man. Maybe spilling that coffee wasn't so bad after all…

"Yes," his voice softened as he leaned in so only you could hear him, "can I ask you something."

"Anything."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," you beamed at him, "please."

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x fem!reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #moon knight #marc spector

[hotsforharlow]

jack protecting bff reader from paparazzi 🫶

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

Pre - Relationship 

You and Jack were in your own little world as he linked arms with you and moved down the streets. “Are we not doing anything for your birthday this year?” Jack began to speak after a comfortable moment of silence. “Not sure.” You mumbled; finishing off your text message before placing your phone away. “Are you touring at that time?” You cuddled into his side some more as you both turned a corner. The last couple of years you and Jack hadn’t been able to celebrate any of your birthdays together. “Nothing planned right now.” His smile brightened as did yours as you cuddled into him some more.

“I’m glad.” You whispered and moved to take his hand as your heart warmed at the idea of being together. Hopefully you would be able to get the old gang together. Give Jack some normalcy. “Are you happy?” You locked eyes with him as those blues of his looked down. “I am now.” You giggled with a shake of your head as you moved to take his hand in yours again; moving to cross the road. As you looked to the left; your eyes caught sight of a trio of men but thought nothing of it. “Excuse me.” You softly whispered over to him with an ever softer smile as you moved to stand.

His fingers began to play with yours as he noticed your attention elsewhere. “You good?” Jack hummed. “Always.” You whispered; trying to distract yourself as you cuddled into his side some more. It wasn’t long before Jack noticed the trio following him and a soft frown of annoyance came over him. “I wish they would leave me alone.” He whispered into your ear and kept you impossibly closer. His protectiveness sky rocketed. “Ignore them.” You gently took his fingers once more as you turned another corner. You both hoped it was quick enough to throw them off their trail. “Maybe we should go home?” You whispered.

“No..I want to spend some time with you.” Jack roughly replied; looking over his shoulder once more. Ducking down, you hid your face when the group came closer and you could hear the flutter of cameras. His arm around you only tightened and brought you closer as his longer strides moved you both quickly away. A soft gasp escaped you and you nearly tripped forward when one of the paparazzi came too close and hit your shoe accidentally. Jack was quick to keep you up and his blues filled with worry. Jack didn’t even ask if you were okay as he turned around and pushed the guy away from you both.

“Back off.” Jack nearly snarled as he stepped in front of you. The man’s eyes widened for a moment. “Come on Jack; just a picture.” One of the other ones piped up and Jack tried to keep his calm as you moved to take his hand. “Fuck off.” Jack snapped back whilst you gently tugged on him. “Come on Jack.” You whispered and tugged on him some more. Your heart raced as the cameras still flashed away. Thankfully, you were calming him down as he remembered you were there. He pushed the closest one away once more before turning around and keeping you against his side.

You looked over your shoulder with worry as you chewed on your bottom lip and stayed close to him. “Jack…are you okay?” You softly whispered up at him as your fingers moved to play with his curls some more. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder once more and thankfully the men weren’t there. He didn’t answer for a moment as he continued walking; trying to put as much space between you and them as possible. “They’ve gone, Jack.” You whispered into his ear again as you moved to play with his fingers. His hold on your hand tightened as he began to finally calm down.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered down at you as you both finally came to a stop when you turned a corner. “Shh, it’s not your fault.” You softly cooed up at him as your hand moved to rest on his chest. “Hey,” You tugged on his hand and those blues of his flashed to you. “Don’t blame yourself.” Jack rested his head on yours as his fingers moved through your locks for a moment. “That’s going to be everywhere now.” He groaned. “Don’t worry about it.” You whispered into his ear before taking his hand in yours. “You were hot there anyway.” You tried to lighten the mood with a wink.

“Shut up.” Jack chuckled, his mood brightening in a way only you could do for him. His arm easily moved over your shoulder once more. “Want to go home and watch a film?” You gently offered him. “I’d like that.” Jack whispered, ducking his head as you both moved through the streets once more.

#jack harlow x reader #request #bestfriend au

[waltzshouldbewriting]

Ash - WHG 20

As Ash laid in a pit, staring up at the sky and breathing in some kind of chemical sedative, she couldn’t help but wonder what she had done to end up there.

It was a stupid position to be in. She was still alive - of course she was - but a cannon had gone off, so someone thought she was dead. Or they wanted others to think she was dead? It was too early to tell.

What did they want with her anyways? Ash hadn’t done anything obviously illegal. She wasn’t a rebel.

It probably wasn’t even her doing.

If anything, it was his fault.

Ash met him at six years old.

Blaze was ten, the youngest in a wealthy family that lived near the square. Ash, an orphan, would normally have never run into him. But that day they met, she had thrown a tantrum that had gotten his attention.

And it all happened from them.

Blaze was an angry boy, but he was scared of the peacekeepers and didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Ash was angry, too, and was willing to do anything to act out. So Blaze told her, he’d cover for her if she helped him.

So that’s what they did.

They helped each other out.

Ash broke things and destroyed things and Blaze helped her not get caught. And it worked, and it worked well.

Until it didn’t.

.

Ash changed her name that day. It seemed poetic - she was what remained after a fire. After a Blaze.

Ash. Burnt through and abandoned.

It was hard, figuring things out after that. Ash spent some time in the junkyard - the giant pile of trash where District 6 put all the used vehicles. Gangs roamed the junkyard. One of them taught Ash to fight.

And once she learned how to fight, things started to get easier.

But as things got easier, Ash got older. And that increased her chances of being reaped.

At eighteen, it had finally happened.

.

Crystal was the first, and only, person to visit Ash.

They had only been friends for barely a year, but that year had brought them close.

Ash hugger Crystal, hard.

No advice was given - Ash could survive fine. Better than Crystal could.

“I’m going to miss you,” Crystal said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Ash replied. “I promise.”

Crystal nodded. “Just. Stay safe.”

.

The first couple of days were pretty bland.

Ash didn’t care about the chariots. She didn’t need to train, either. When the scoring happened, she easily achieved an eight. She didn’t talk to the other tributes and barely spoke to the trainers.

But the interview was a whole different ballgame.

Ash wasn’t social. She didn’t like to talk to people for the sake of talking. And she was horrible in a dress and heels.

Thankfully, the heels were low enough that she could survive the walk onto the stage. The dress wasn’t that bad, either - just a solid black evening gown with frill spiraling down the skirt.

She still hated it.

The interviewer gave her a fake smile and welcomed her to the stage. Ash just nodded.

“What did it feel like when you heard your name called?”

“How do you feel about your eight?”

“Are there any boys waiting for you back home?”

Ash gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile and tried to sound like a normal person.

She probably didn’t win any sponsors.

.

The bloodbath came.

Ash had to fight for a bag of supplies, but she won. Even without her weapon of choice, she was dangerous.

That first day, she hunted and kept her distance. She ran into another tribute on day two, but managed to escape. That night was the first time she had to talk to another tribute, when hiding from acid rain.

Day three, she ended up taking shelter with a different tribute, watching as a fire raged in the arena.

Fire. It reminded her of Blaze.

Someone sent her a hatchet. Ash didn’t know who - that wasn’t her preferred weapon - but it was useful for firewood.

An explosion took out her hearing. It was healed by morning.

And then she fell into a pit.

And a canon went off.

#whg 20 #character: ash #Drabble/rant

[koppiki]

gah, I HATE how long chapter 30 is taking to get out, and I also hate that my ability to translate more chapters is directly tied to my sureness that it will actually COME OUT at any point, given how things are going, it's not really anyone's fault, but when stuff takes so long I start feeling like it'll never happen again y'know?

doesn't help that my cleaner has gone what I would charitably call "minimum contact," so I got NO fuckin' clue what the progress/situation is on ANY of that, I would get more cleaners but I have known this man for like SEVEN YEARS (since high school) so like... I feel like I can't do that

oh also still looking for a typesetter for Q, What is Love, not that anyone here would necessarily interface because of that, but I figure may as well say it anywhere that I can

especially since it seems I can't actually make a damn CHAPTER ANNOUNCEMENT when the chapter ain't gonna be OUT

thankfully takeshino works pretty quick (and is communicative) so at least once the cleans are done (as they are now) I get some gosh-darn EMOTIONAL SECURITY for once, feeling like it'll actually get done

I also just feel bad for leaving people on cliffhangers, I guess- chapter 29 is a real cliffhanger, after all. Chapter 30 is not. On account of being... the last chapter of the volume. Those don't tend to be quite so cliffhangery. Except in romcoms. Which this is not. It is a com, though. Solidly a com.

OH I also read a gl that I thought was quite good called "Throw Away the Suit Together." With the period and everything, in the romanized title. I really liked it. The art was great, and was used to good effect in expressing the emotions and whatnot. Good stuff. I also just tend to like any gl that isn't just... schoolgirls. Since, y'know, over-saturated, and not relatable, and tends to have all those issues of like... implying that bein' a lesbian is just a phase, or some weird pure thing to be put on a pedestal, or anything like that. This doesn't have that. It does have explicit imagery though, so don't read it if you don't like that sort of thing. If you don't mind it, though, this is expressly a recommendation to go and check it out.

my sleep schedule has been slipping. I need to get up at 8 now, which means I need to go to bed before 12, and I am not doing that now. I was doing it for a while. Today and yesterday, not so. Probably still fine. I'll get used to it.

Oh, I also started reading the Kamonohashi Ron mango that my dear mutual headinabox posted about, since it looked interesting, and it certainly is! Deeply fun manga. Really enjoying it so far.

I ALSO read Futari Escape (very good), My Solo Exchange Diary (excellent, and I didn't know it existed until just recently), Mizuno and Chayama (quite good, if disjointed- the artistry made up for it though), Hello, Melanchoic! (fun one)... and started and dropped some other stuff that wasn't so good.

When I read My Solo Exchange Diary, I read it in math class. This would've been a bad call if the math teacher was good, because it meant I would've missed out on Crucial Learning, but (un)fortunately he is a very not-so-good teacher (who I have had the misfortune of having before) so... is good. But it was also STILL not a good call, because that mango made me cry, and crying is not really what I want to be doing in Discrete Math. Usually. Really good, though. Sorta wish I had read it at home so I didn't have to tamper my emotional responses.

Also back to the ron mango, I read that one in modern physics. Which was actually a bad call, as that class calls for pretty active participation, so I got in a little bit of trouble. I blame the mango, for being too enjoyable. How dare it distract me (I guess). Ha.

I wanna talk more about mangoes with people. I don't get a ton of opportunities to do it? I mean, I do get opportunities. I got the fishcord, and that has discussion aplenty should the situation arise. I guess I just meant... vocally. In person. That sort of thing. Don't know a lot of in-person folks that share my hobbies, or at least that aspect of them. I got folks I play games with, certainly, and they know me well enough now (and are comfortable enough with their sexuality) for me to talk about that sort of thing, but the mangoes (especially translation, and any gls and bls) remain pretty solidly outside of their zone. Not that that's a problem. I'm content on my own, in this specific case. Mostly. Though I guess half the reason I read these things is to fill that on-my-own-edness, so... sort of a... catch-22? I want to talk about the things I read, but I read the things I read because I don't have so many folks to talk to. Not really an exact cyclical relationship (cuts out a lot of middlemen) but it sorta is? If you squint?

Oversimplification is a bad thing to do, but sometimes it's all you can do.

Anyways, if you actually read all this, hello. How are you? I hope all is well. Enjoy your day, and all that. Reading my solo exchange diary kinda made my brain go funky (in a good way, I think? somewhat?) with respect to conceptualizations of relationships and interpersonal reactions generally. Makes me both... want to try talking to people, and more okay with the fact that I don't talk to as many. Though she is certainly right that it's important to have a variety of people to spread the load amongst, as it were. Can't get all my social interaction (even though I don't necessarily need a ton) from just the same one guy. I imagine it's bothersome, somewhat. Much like this would be if I actually said it to someone. That's why typing is a magical thing. I don't need to say it, and there's no obligation to read it. It just is, and if someone reads it, that's on them. It's not like it's addressed to anyone, it's not like there's social expectation... though I guess on the other side of things, it makes it all that less likely to actually be heard or responded to.

Which, I think, is sort of half the point of saying anything in the first place. So, whatever.

#absolutely nothing of importance #is said within these numerous chunks of text #:)

[askaceattorney]

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS CO-MOD?

Co-Mod: *wakes up* Where am I now...?

Anne: Welcome to my world.

Anne: Do you know how annoying it is with you trying to meddle in things? Thankfully, I know a way to lock you up for good.

You may be able to get into the blog, but so long as the draft stays out, you'll never be able to escape.

Co-Mod: You're...trapping me in the blog? Hold on! where's Chief Mod Edgeworth? I know you can't be-

Anne: Chief Mod Edgeworth? Figures she'd choose a mod name after the guy she has the hots for. I'm Anne Phantom and I'm in control of your Chief now. Something about some Phantom from FNAF trying to possess her.

Co-Mod: Phantom from FNAF? Hang on...

*looks up Phantom from FNAF on smartphone*

Uhhhhh, you don't look anything like Phantom.

Anne: Duh! Your Chief doesn't play that game! Okay, maybe the first one, but it got boring very quickly. It's not my fault that when we hear "Phantom" we think of Danny Phantom.

Co-Mod: Danny Phantom?

Anne: What else do you think this is? Danny Phantom was practically our childhood! Do you know how many fan fictions this bitch had wrote!? I was her evil twin!

Co-Mod: You, uh... You don't say?

Anne: But, my twin deleted that story, then tossed me away like trash! I barely get any time or am known outside of roleplays and stories nobody cares about! I get nothing. NOTHING! I'm... nothing...

Heh, but not anymore. I'm done with playing the one-note villain in some teenage girl's imagination. From now on, I'm in control and look who I found lying around while the Cursed Mediums decided to sneak behind my back.

Proto Badger: İ̷̧̨̢̫̦͉͗̈́̇̂̚͜͜͠͝'̷͇͖͍̹̮̙̤̾́̓m̶̮̪͉̘͍̂̃̿̀̅̉͋̆̉̚͜ͅ ̸̜͖̂b̵̼́̊̉̿͝a̸͇̭̘̕̚c̸̨̹͙̲͕̜̲͕̤̓̽̂̊̂k̵͉͙̱̥͌̾̀.̵͓́̍

Co-Mod: *Stares in horror* ...He's back.

Proto Badger: F̸̮̞̣̘̻̌͌o̵͈̜̽̆̈͘͝ȯ̵̘̺͐ͅd̸̛̙̳͊̏͗̇͐̾.̸̡̮̱̘̥̝͈̀̓́̎̑̄͘.̴̬̭͔̰͙̹̪̯̍́͝͝.̷̙͖͖͎̊̔͑̀́͠͝

Co-Mod: Um... Hm...

*thinks for a moment*

Oh, um... I heard there was a redheaded ghost lurking somewhere far away in that direction!

Proto Badger: *eyes widen with delight* F̵̣̣̗̠̩͖̩̘͛̀̿̂͠͝O̸̹̝̠̝͍̺̥̐͋̇̚͘͝Ó̴͕̂̓͠Ọ̶̧̲͍̟̼̈́̀̍̔͘̕Ǫ̸̦̘̜̦͐͋̍O̴̦̥̖͇̙̱͎̺̙̅Õ̶̝̮̻̖͌͝D̷̖͇͓͚̣̔̌̒͌̐̑��͒̈́͘!̴̡̨̰̪̠̦̏͐!̶̫̤̦̟̊̂̉́̇!̶͔͖̟̰̲̩̊́̊́͛̍̈́͗͆͘

*darts off in the direction Co-Mod pointed*

Co-Mod: ...Dang, that was easy.

*turns to Anne*

Well, it's been a pleasure, but...

Anne: *points the ghost gun at Co-Mod* So, any last words before I trap you here for good?

Co-Mod: Um, uh, er... (Come on, think!) ...I've always been curious about Danny Phantom. I only saw a few episodes of it, so...maybe you could fill me in?

Anne: Oh my god, Danny Phantom is my absolute favorite. It's about this 14-year-old high school kid named Danny Fenton who gets ghost powers from accidentally turning on the ghost portal his parents built while inside. They're ghost hunters who study ghosts.

Co-Mod: I see, I see...

Anne: It gets better. See, because Danny is half ghost with ghost hunting parents, he hides his powers, while using their anti-ghost gear to help fend off ghosts. Some of them include the Fenton Thermos used to trap ghosts, Fenton Phones used like earbuds only to communicate with ghosts and the specter deflector. That is a belt used to deflect ghosts and is kinda like a kryptonite for ghosts.

Co-Mod: Kryptonite for ghosts, huh? *scratches chin and raises an eyebrow* Okay, you've got me interested now. Keep going.

*sneaks towards the specter deflector*

Anne: I've seen all three seasons, but it got canceled so quickly. Do you know how much I've been wanting to see Dark Danny's return!? Thankfully, there's a new comic where he returns. I'm sooooooooo going to get it.

Co-Mod: Hey, pardon me, but... *puts the specter deflector around Anne*

Anne: You... *screams*

Co-Mod: I've got to admit, that was a great distraction.

#Mod Post #Chief Mod Edgeworth #Co-Mod #Danny Phantom #Ace Attorney #Halloween 2023 #Mod Commentary #I guess this would be considered a 'kinda' crossover?