#not doing well with this one i’ll be honest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lordprettyflackotara · 2 days

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slide || chris sturniolo

almost ?SMUT. MINORS STILL DNI 18+. everybody put your hands together for drug dealer chris!

Chris wasn’t a fan of doing anyone favors.

He enjoyed it in the beginning, befriending anyone he could to buy and sell product. Doing favors, asking favors. Establishing a long term fruitful relationship of trust. It was fun, his circle now so tight knit he couldn’t see past it.

What he didn’t enjoy, was his two brothers at his doorstep asking him for what he considered to be a massive favor. He had known about your existence for a while, purposefully ignoring you. After all, you were just another girl that Matt was probably fucking. Chris couldn’t help but wonder if he was wrong, both Nick and Matt acting like you were the most important person on the planet.

“So you see when he broke up with her she got super fuckin sad-”

“And usually we’ve made every effort to keep an eye on her-”

“But there’s a party tonight and we’re afraid she might wonder off and hookup with a sleezebag she might regret-”

“So we were just wondering if you could help us keep an eye on her since you um-” Nicks eyes briefly flickered into Chris’s room. “You know, sell at these kinds of things.”

Chris rolled his eyes. He never understood this kind of attachment, whether it was platonic or something more. “Ight fine, if she comes my way i’ll check on her.”

Chris didn’t need these parties, quite frankly. He sold enough cocaine to the bitches with rich daddy’s in beverly hills to where he didn’t even need to consider being here. But abandoning his original client base wasn’t honest, especially when the consumers hunger palette was diverse. He kept cocaine away from these parties, his display full of the usual pill bottles with weed and different party drugs.

He knew the owner of this house well, his set up upstairs in the attic. It was quiet enough to where it wouldn’t be discovered if you weren’t looking for it. A small brown table sat in front of the coffee he was sprawling across, a joint hanging from his lips. He decided to take his time weighing and separating the rest of the weed, nothing else better happening anyways. Chris knew not being honest with his brothers was wrong, but he didn’t feel any remorse.

The further your goody two shoe’s ass stayed away from him the better.

The night was going by smoothly for Chris, his usual customers eager to drop in and buy whatever they wanted. He had completely forgotten about you, until he heard a set of heels coming upstairs. Chris knew this meant one of two things. Either a girl was coming to buy, most likely offering head as payment or someone was lost. His blue eyes flickered up to the staircase, a very unsteady you appearing through the smoky haze.

Your eyes met his, an electric shock going down Chris’s spine. “Oh shit, you’re Chris aren’t you?” You asked, offering him a small smile. Chris removed the joint from his lips, kashing it out on the table. “Depends on who’s asking,” He replied, his face smug. You ignored his smugness walking over to him. You extended your hand for a handshake. “I’m y/n, i’m friends with Matt and Nick. You guys uh, kinda share the same face,” You say. Chris eyed you carefully. “So you’re the sad girl,” He hummed.You seemed completely harmless and if anything, absolutely adorable. Chris met your hand, giving you a firm handshake. “I would introduce myself but you already know who I am,” He huffed, resuming weighing the weed in his other hand.

Your gaze wondered over to his product table, one of his eyebrows raising. “You interested in buying kid?” He asked. You were soaking in the entirety of the table, examining every little thing. You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, i’ll take some molly,” You say, reaching into your skirt for some cash. Chris audibly scoffed. “The fuck you will,” He spat. Your eyebrows furrowed, staring down at him. His legs were spread, his gaze now falling onto that pretty face of yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, crossing your arms.

Chris chuckled. “You’ve never touched a joint in your life. I’m not selling you pills because you’re going through some shit,” He said harshly. Your face fell, your defensive stance changing into one of embarrassment. Chris was a harsh person, his words stinging more than he usual meant for them to. “Sorry kid, I won’t let you hurt yourself,” Chris apologized quietly. Your eyes were glazed with sadness, the kind Chris was all too familiar with. He cleared his throat, grabbing a freshly rolled joint from his product table. He held it up to you. “I’ll let you smoke this, as long as you let me teach you how to inhale properly,” Chris offered, giving you a small smile.

“How much?” You asked, reaching into your skirt for your wadded up twenties. Chris held up one hand, signaling for you to stop. “I’ll cover it, first joints are rare and your case, free,” He said, holding the joint up to show you. Your face lit up like a christmas tree, your heels clicking as you joined him on the couch. Chris brought the joint to his lips, grabbing a lighter from his jeans pocket. Your beautiful eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder, watching as he sparked the lighter. The flame ignited the joint, Chris’s lungs inhaling and soaking in the high. He exhaled through his nose, handing you the joint. “Alright kid, take it slow. Just inhale,” Chris guided, watching you slowly put the joint to your lips.

You were so cute and innocent, Chris finding himself softly chuckling as you inhaled. You immediately coughed, Chris digging in his backpack and handing you a water bottle. The gesture was sweeter than he meant it to be, your eyes watering as you grabbed the plastic bottle from him. He watched you gulp the water, the joint sitting between your fingertips. The kash was about to fall on your bare knee, Chris’s hand quickly falling on yours to grab the joint. “Shit kid don’t burn yourself,” Chris murmured, another electric shock flying down his spine as his hand brushed against yours.

Chris had hoped you hadn’t noticed the subtle heat rushing to his cheeks. Or his reaction to the comforting warmth of your hand. Thankfully you were too occupied in chugging your water, your throat engulfed in unfamiliar flames. You set the bottle of water down, giggling as you looked over at Chris. Your eyes were full of determination, a mischievous smile creeping up your lips.

“Can I try again?”

Chris had to admit you were cute, trying to inhale the joint the way he was instructing you to. It was refreshing being around a girl who wasn’t trying to impress him or get something from him. A girl who wasn’t from his side of the street. It felt like no time had passed when you had finally learned how to properly inhale. “There you go kid. You’ll be able to ghost in no time i’m sure,” Chris said, patting your knee. You exhaled the smoke, passing the joint back to Chris.

He watched goosebumps spread across your skin, his eyebrows furrowing. You were in something awfully skimpy, a black leather skirt and a matching top that made your breast stick out. Chris concluded this outfit wasn’t yours, surely. “Are you cold?” He asked suddenly. You were about to question him, the brunette answering the question for you. He shrugged off his gray jacket, handing it to you. “Put it on. I don’t wanna hear it from my brothers if you get sick,” He said, making an excuse to make sure you were warm. You also looked painfully cute in his jacket.

Your eyes trailed over his chest in his white wife beater as you shrugged the jacket on. It reeked of weed and cologne, a mixture you were beginning to love. “Thank you,” You say quietly. It was oversized on you, the cool air seemingly unnerving Chris. The silence that ensued was comforting, a compliment fixing to spill from his lips. Instead he stopped himself, not wanting to get too attached to you. “So, bad break up huh?” Chris asked, trying to change the topic.

You shrugged, tossing the hood of the jacket over your head. “Yeah I guess you could say that,” You replied. Chris leaned back against the couch, raising an eyebrow. “So, you wanna tell me what happened or do you wanna talk about something else?” Chris asked. He could practically see the debate forming in your head. He could only imagine how you were feeling, sadness mixed in with a newly found high. Shit, he was a bad influence on you. “I’d rather talk about something else. I’m trying to forget about him more than anything,” You say. Your eyes met his, the whites of your eyes glazed over with a familiar reddish pink.

“Or we could, you know, do something else,” You say shyly. Chris felt his heart skip a beat, that familiar electrical feeling ensuing again. This weed wasn’t laced right? He had been in much more lewd situations. Chris had been around the block more than once. Your suggestive words were making him feel like a preteen. “Nuh uh. Nope. I don’t take virginities kid,” Chris declined. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, not by any means. But you were too precious, too pure for him to ruin. To bring into his world of chaos. “Who said I was asking you to?” You questioned. Chris sighed, his eyes flickering down to your thighs.

“Probably the way you’ve been rubbing your thighs together for the past five minutes,” He replied. There was a pregnant pause of silence, Chris’s mouth suddenly running dry. Why did you make him feel this way? “Well maybe we could, I don’t know, fool around instead,” You suggested. Chris raised his eyebrows. “Fool around?” He questioned. He knew exactly what you meant, but he relished in the sight of your face turning pink. “You know what I mean,” You reply shyly. Chris shook his head, noticing the party was dying down. The music was being turned down, the sound of chatter decreasing.

“I don’t think I do. What are you talking about kid?” He asked you. Your face turned a deeper shade of red, the sight enough to make Chris’s cock throb. “Like uh. Fingering and head and stuff,” You answer awkwardly. Chris licked his bottom lip. Damn, Matt has to be stupid if he hasn’t noticed how adorable you are. Chris chuckled. “And head and stuff?” He laughed. You playfully shoved his arm. “Dont make fun of me i’m in college and haven’t done anything beyond making out,” You admitted. You had unintentionally brought yourself closer to him, your bodies only an inch apart.

The tension in the room was increasing quickly, Chris’s eyes flickering over to yours. “And you wanna change that? With a guy you just met?” Chris asked, skeptical. He tilted his head to the side, grabbing a blunt off of the table. “Never would’ve taken you for a horny little thing once you smoke a bit,” Chris teased. You rolled your eyes. “I technically have just met you but i’ve known about you forever,” You replied defensively. Chris ignited the blunt, watching the orange grow as he inhaled. “Cmere, wanna try something with you,” Chris murmured. He couldn’t give in, he wouldn’t give in.

He wouldn’t corrupt you. Not yet. You were too innocent. Too pretty. “Put this to your lips and inhale. Just stay very still for me,” Chris hummed. He guided the blunt to your lips, your doe eyes meeting his. He placed his lips over the other end, both of you inhaling at the same time. Chris couldn’t help but hold your gaze, admiring you. He had shotgunned a blunt with endless people, yet it felt so different with you. So intimate. His lungs demanded for him to pull away, so he did. He exhaled and watched you do the same, coughing as you smiled at him. “That was so hot, holy shit,” You laughed, tears flooding your waterline.

Chris leaned forward, wiping away a salty tear that was beginning to form. The pad of his thumb was gentle across your skin, your cheeks flushing red again. You were so easy to get riled up, so flustered. You leaned forward, placing the blunt on a rolling tray. Your lips were an inch from Chris’s your body yearning for his. “I meant it kid. I won’t fuck you,” Chris huffed, his hand not straying from your cheek. You swallowed, a boys set of lips never looking more appealing. “You don’t have to, just kiss me,” You said. Your eyes flickered to his briefly, before looking back down at his lips. You then added, “Please.”

Chris didn’t consider himself a weak man, but you made him one, He pressed his lips to yours, soaking in the faint taste of mint and weed. You met his lips eagerly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but want to deepen it, but feel you more. You allowed him in, grinning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He was intoxicating, the room suddenly feeling a million degrees. Chris’s hands fell to your waist, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

He pulled you onto his lap, your thighs straddling him. “You a good kisser for a virgin,” Chris teased, before grabbing the back of your neck to guide your lips back to his. You giggled as you shoved his chest, lowering your hips against his. The rest of the party seemed to disappear, the only thing existing in this life being you. You giggled as you hovered above him, your gorgeous thighs straddling him. Chris bucked his hips upwards, relishing in the sound of a soft groan escaping your lips. “Thought you weren’t gonna fuck me,” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Did you have any idea how addicting you were? “I’m not and I won’t, doesn’t mean I won’t tease you though,” Chris replied, kissing down the side of your face to your neck. His hands slithered back down to your waist, teasingly gripping the flesh. You felt like your body was on fire, Chris the only remedy for what you needed. “Chris,” You whimpered, his lips attaching themselves to your sweet spot. He would make sure not to leave a hickey that was too dark. He briefly pulled away, hovering over the purple skin. “Hmm? Need something?” He hummed. You grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him back to look at you.

Your assertiveness caused by desperation made his cock throb. “Please touch me. I’ll repay you. Just, please,” You begged. You were so pretty, begging above him like this. You grinded your waist down onto his hard cock, biting your lower lip. Chris flipped you both around, your back hitting the back of the couch as he kneeled before you. “You’re that desperate huh? Want me to make you feel good?” Chris asked. You were practically trembling, his lips peppering kisses on your thighs. “Are you sure about this kid? You’re shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Chris questioned, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m sure, please,” You whimpered. Chris slowly pulled up your skirt, placing teasingly slow kisses on the inside of your thighs. He hovered over your clothed cunt, pressing a kiss onto your panties. He could feel how soaked you were for him. The feeling alone made his cock throb in his jeans. Fucking hell.

“Yo Chris! You up here?”

The sound of Matt’s voice made your eyes go wide, Chris quick to react. He quickly pulled himself onto the couch, pulling down your skirt. He zipped up his jacket, covering your skimpy outfit and flusteredness. Two sets of footsteps were approaching quickly, whom he could only assume to be Matt and Nick. He tried to act nonchalant, leaning forward to cover his obvious and aching boner. By the time they reached the top of the stairs you thought your heart was going to fail.

“Oh hey I see you found Chris, looks just like us doesn’t he?” Matt asked, smiling as he plopped down on the couch beside you. He threw his arm around your shoulders, your eyes flickering to Chris’s. You were a flustered mess and he hadn’t even had a chance to taste you. “Oh for fuck sake Christopher don’t tell us you sold to her,” Nick huffed. He frowned disapprovingly as Chris began to pack up, shoving his products in his backpack. “I’d never sell to her, I have morals contrary to popular belief,” Chris argued, rolling his eyes. He noticed Matt’s arm around you, but he tried his hardest to pretend he didn’t.

“I better get going, got a meeting early tomorrow,” Chris huffed. Truthfully he didn’t feel like playing pretend around his brothers nor did he feel like hiding his aching boner. He shrugged his backpack over his shoulders, heading downstairs without so much as giving you a second glance. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want his brothers to embarrass him in front of you. He reached his ride outside, starting to slide into the backseat.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand grab his backpack that he turned around. He tried his hardest to hide his smile filled with relief. You followed him. “Do you um want your jacket back?” You asked shyly. Chris gave you a warm smile. “Nah kid, consider it yours,” He said. He stood in front of you, his friends yapping away in the front seats to each other. “Chris about what just happened in there I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-” You began rambling. Chris pulled the hood of the jacket off of your head, brushing some stray hairs behind your ears.

“You’ve got it all wrong kid. The very last thing you did was make me uncomfortable. I wanna see you again, away from my dumbass brothers,” Chris told you, cutting off the sound of your sweet voice. He allowed himself to lean forward, his lips dying to meet yours. “Let me pick you up tomorrow. Take you on an actual date. Wine and dine you,” Chris said. You found yourself leaning closer to him, the urge to press your lips against his. “I’d like that,” You replied softly.

“I’ll slide through tomorrow, round five. I got some shit to take care of before I come by,” Chris said. Behind you he could see Matt and Nick waving goodbye to some friends, about to walk onto the front porch. Chris pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, dipping into the car before his brothers could see him. He rolled down his window, holding up his pinky.

“I promise i’ll slide through tomorrow.”

You had a decision to make, whether or not to trust a drug dealer you had just met. You smiled as you wrapped your pinky around his, giving him your trust.

“Good, i’ll be waiting.”

a/n: this is my first time dropping a fic without smut lmaooo. didn’t feel right w chris being all mysterious drug dealer core 🕵🏻‍♀️.

#chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 day

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( ´∀`) I am possibly missing where it says your requests are open or not. I apologize if it is.

If it interests you (your batfam posts bring me joy) how would the boys Jay, Dick, Damian (whoever else) would react to only being able to tell the truth for a day? Like they confess all the things they like about their crush, compliment their family, admit to disliking a dish Alfred made (GASP <(｀^´)> ).

Thank youuuuu~

Jason wore his heart on his sleeve, he lets anyone knows what’s on his mind with zero filter, so him being forced to be truthful was no different to how Jason actually was on a day to day basis.

So at first he doesn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until you asked him a question one day regarding your love life;

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone here Jay, I mean what do I have to do to find somebody.’

‘You don’t have to do anything because everyone else is the problem, not you.’ Jason found himself answering before his mind could find an appropriate response without crossing the boundary of your friendship. ‘They obviously don’t see perfection when they see it because they weren’t looking at you and I find that insulting because who wouldn’t look into your eyes and see forever within them?.’ He finishes and was quick to cover his mouth with his hand, worried that he might’ve said too much for you.

‘And do you see forever in my eyes jay birdie?’ You asked softly, leaning towards him.

Jason drops his hand from his mouth. ‘Hell yeah I do, amongst many other things because you’re worth every heartbreak I’ve ever had in the past because being with you would be my life’s greatest dream come true.’

The next time Jason spoke truthfully was when Dick came to visit and it was after a long, long night of patrol and sleep was at the forefront of his mind, causing it to fog as he let it slip on what he truly thought of Dick.

‘You’re my brother, we may not be related by blood but no one has stood in my corner and was so prepared to be in the wrong then you Richard, and for that I thank you. You really are the best of us.’

Needless to say when he found out that Dick had the whole thing recorded, he wanted to strangle the fucker and make his death look like an accident. Sibling things.

Now, Jason -much like any other- loved Alfred’s food and would never raise an issue over it as he’d pretty much eat anything with his bottomless stomach. So even if he didn’t like one of Alfred’s recipes more self then others, he would say it in the most politest way possible. He loved that kindhearted man too much to ever say anything in regards of the food he’s made him since he was a young lad.

Dick would find peoples expressions to him being honest and truthful funny, but at the same time would be somewhat relieved with this turn out, as he wouldn’t have to force himself to be truthful just to get people to stop asking whether he was alright or not.

He knew he wasn’t always open and honest with his innermost thoughts and feelings at the best and worst of times, knowing all too well of how that would cause lead to the occasional argument of two down the line for himself, but he was never really given the space to figure it out himself on his own time.

So when he found himself speaking the truth to just about anyone, it was as though his heart was exposed for all to see it beating and all. It was as though all of his innermost thoughts regarding everyone in his life was being broadcasted to anyone and everyone with ears and the ability to hear it.

‘You’re so good with Hayley you know.’ Dick blurted once when you were playing with Hayley, stoping as soon as you heard him say this, allowing for Hayley to snatch the toy from your limp hand and lie down elsewhere to amuse herself with the squeaks that the toy would make every time she bite down on it.

‘What?’ You asked.

‘I mean it, you’re really good with Hayley and you’ve been nothing but an amazing person with a pretty smile and addicting laugh.’ Dick adds as he held his head in his hands as he looked at you with a soft look upon his face. Dick wasn’t still that bothered that you knew how he felt, it was bound to come out sooner or later and would take it in stride, even if he didn’t have control over what had just came out of his mouth just now.

The next time Dick finds himself being truthful was when he visited Jason after a long night of patrol and in the midst of a silent period Dick then said;

‘You’re amazing Jason. Bruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he never did when it came to us Robins, using one of us as a frame of reference for everyone else isn’t fair but you are my friend, my brother and I am so proud of you. You are not a failure, you’re anything but one.’ Jason sat silent the entire time and after Dick had finished he made a noise from the back of his throat, a small smile gracing his face as he looked out over the streets of Gotham, reaching out to pat Dick on the shoulder and said. ‘Thanks man.’

Dick always cared deeply for Jason, seeing him as his little brother and would gladly stand in his corner no matter what, even if he was wrong because that was what older siblings did. Dick never shied away from how deeply he felt agonising pain when he though he had lost his little brother and confronted Bruce about the entire thing, enraged and grieving simultaneously. Now whenever he caught wind of what Jason was doing as red hood, he can’t help but smile knowing his brother was doing just fine, but would always make it known that he was just a phone call away.

Dick knew Alfred wasn’t going to bite his head off for saying that he didn’t like something but would instead ask how he could better it for his taste. So even if Dick did say anything about one of Alfred’s recipe, he knows Alfred would be more than understanding. However it was an unspoken rule amongst him and his siblings that they’d eat anything and everything Alfred made them without a single complaint unless it was necessary.

They all love that man too much to ever say anything negative about his cooking.

Damian would hate being forced to speak nothing but the truth.

He’d really hate it as being blunt and opinionated was how he always was and so being open and honest wasn’t his forte and it felt wrong in a sense due to it feeling as though he was put in a position of vulnerability.

He hates it even more when he finds himself confessing to all the things that he liked and or found remotely interesting about you whenever you were near, it felt as though someone was pupating him to say these things when deep down he knew they were how he genuinely felt but was too deep in denial to admit this to himself.

‘How do I look?’ You innocently asked.

‘Breathtaking like you always do so seamlessly.’ Damian replied without hesitation before looking up from his sketchbook once realisation hit him, only to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes.

‘You mean that?’ You said, wanting to know whether or not you heard him properly.

‘Of course.’ Damian said and when he felt his mouth open, he tried to close it but it seemed as though his body had a mind of his own as he found himself continuing to speak. ‘On many occasions have I spent thinking you were naturally breathtaking and have thought so for many more on top of that to the point you are my one sole muse.’ He finished and it wasn’t long before you were planning your first date together.

Damian knew this wouldn’t be the first time he was going to be forced to speak the truth and the second time came in him actually complimenting Tim on his smarts and combat prowess, something that he’d rather drink pure poison before ever admitting out of pride.

‘Tt. Don’t sell yourself short Drake, you’re a competent Robin and an exceptional detective.’ He’d say when it was just him and Tim in the Batcave and immediately regrets it and makes him swear to secrecy, obviously this doesn’t last long after the period of speaking truthfully wears off and Damian goes back to being his blunt, straightforward, unapologetic self.

Damian loves Alfred’s cooking, but all of his cooking weren’t Damian’s favourite and while he wouldn’t hesitate to tell others how he felt, he didn’t feel the same when it came to Alfred’s cooking despite the man being nothing but kind and open minded.

So if he ever were to speak about his least favourite food Alfred had ever made and even when Alfred was more then accepting of his opinion, Damian would try to help Alfred however he could in return for his comments about his cooking. Alfred was probably one person he’d never want to hurt with his words.

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amongemeraldclouds · 1 day

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How Lorenzo Berkshire looks at you when

…you ask him to smile for a photo before you head off to the Yule Ball.

You: what kind of smile is that? Enzo: *narrows his eyes* what? I was smiling! You: you look constipated. Think of something that genuinely makes you smile. Enzo: I don’t have to think, I’ll just look at you. Let’s try it again.

…he tries to befriend your cat.

Enzo: I think Mr. Whiskers is starting to like m— Enzo: Never mind. You: *laughing* don’t worry, he’ll like you in time. Enzo: Guess I’ll just have to hang around more often. For Mr. Whiskers, of course. Enzo’s thoughts: Mostly for you, but you don’t need to know that yet.

…he tries to bake cookies for you.

Enzo: Or maybe don’t eat it, love. This is terrible. You: I’m sure it’s not — *you take a bite then spit it out*. I really want to be supportive here, but that is… Enzo: Awful, it’s okay. You can be honest. I seem to have swapped the sugar with salt. You: It’s the thought that counts! Enzo: Well then in that case, I guess you’re the only sweet thing I need in my life.

You teach him how to bake and the batch you make together turns out yummy!

…he wakes you up the next day after sleeping together.

You: Ugh, it’s 7AM. It’s illegal to be so bright and cheery at this hour. Enzo: But it’s a good day! Especially after the night we had. You: One where you kept me up all night. I need five more minutes *you turn away from him*. Enzo: Didn’t see you complaining last night. I believe you said, “yess baby, more—” *you hit him with your pillow* Enzo: Ow! Don’t be like that, I’ll give you a good reason to wake up. *He kisses you tenderly, starting from your cheeks to your neck.*

One thing leads to another and you’re both late to class despite his best efforts to get up early. Do either of you regret it? Absolutely not.

…he adds melody to the poem you wrote about your relationship, turning it into a song.

You: I was going to tease you it’s cheesy, but it’s actually so lovely! Enzo: We could play it at our wedding. You: What wedding? You haven’t even proposed. Enzo: Does that mean you’ll say yes? You: Guess you’ll find out when we get there. Enzo: Well then in that case… *he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small box, moving to kneel in front of you*

✿ Masterlist | 425 words

A/N: This was so fun to do! Saw this kind of format first from @rafesslxt so credit where it’s due 💚

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire headcanons #lorenzo berkshire fluff #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire fluff #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #amongemeraldclouds fluff #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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lynsstrange · 1 day

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the marauders as color/winter guard performers headcannons

(For the enjoyment of me and the probably one other person on the platform who’s two niche interests somehow overlap)

James:

Section leader during marching season, team captain during winter season

Takes it VERY seriously

Is the reason they have twelve hours of practice a week, but also the reason they score very high

Everyone hates him the second conditioning comes around, constantly yelling at the team (Sirius) to try harder while they’re doing suicides and across the floors at seven in the morning

Rifle prodigy (he cannot stfu about showing off how many rotations he can do)

The overzealous upperclassman that scares off incoming freshmen

Always the one lending money at competitions for food. Also has first aid stuff, electric tape, hand warmers, and just about anything else the team could be in need of packed

Basically Team Mom ™

Mary:

TECHNICALLY co-captain

Her and James are constantly bickering over whether her position is official (“That’s Mary, our FLAG SERGEANT” “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN”)

She’s much more involved in flag, doesn’t like weapon as much

A good teacher, but brutally honest to anyone she sees as not meeting expectations

Resident playlist-maker, and has dominion over the speaker in the back of the bus

Is constantly critiquing the show design and advocating for aesthetic cohesion (“the rifles would look so much better if the bolts were taped blue, just saying”)

Sirius:

Is good at weapon, more so sabre

Doesn’t like flag as much, but always gets stuck on solos on it because he’s talented

Manages to miss his drill dot EVERY FUCKING TIME by just a little bit and it sends James into rage

Never really knows the counts, but always in time

Manages to look good even in the shittiest of costumes

Trauma dumps and tells wildass stories in the back of the bus on the way back from late night comps

Constant guard terminology sexual innuendo (“Remus, I need you to strip- your silk, Remus, mind out of the gutter 🙄”)

Remus:

He doesn’t know how he got here

Meaning he got dragged into it by Sirius and James

(Mostly James)

Is basically being held hostage because of his skill- that being that he’s a lot stronger than he looks, so he’s good at rifle when he actually tries

Always has some dusty ass beat up novel in his competition duffle (me)

Late to practice or gone often because he has so many other academic commitments lmao

Always covered in bruises from getting whacked by equipment

Competitive only when it comes to Sirius. (Sirius can do a one handed forty five?? Remus can do a DOUBLE one handed forty five)

Lily:

Marching band historian during fall season

Runs the guard’s social media pages

Organizes all team parties

A STICKLER for team traditions, and makes sure they’re continued on each year

Pretty well-rounded, but prefers flag

Like Remus, only truly competitive and spiteful when it comes to James

All the freshmen love her because she’s a good teacher, and she has a special talent of talking just about anyone into auditioning

Always mad about the state of disarray in the guard room

Peter:

Like Remus, isn’t sure how he ended up here

Isn’t really that great at anything, but he tries real hard

Plays trumpet or smth during marching season lmao

And somehow ended up in guard by peer pressure and a crippling fear of being left out

Marlene:

Weapon NERD

And honestly all around guard nerd

Is almost as enthusiastic as James

She even did baton for a short period of time for fun

Is one of those people who can just whip rifle around in that effortless way (you know the type of person I’m talking about)

Constantly coming to James with feedback about choreography, and they’re always either getting along very well or at odds

Definitely on her way to DCI

Resident makeup helper (she can do a mean cat eye, even on a highway in a school bus)

Maybe at some point I’ll do the skittles or other various characters lol but for now I’m imagining just the in-universe Gryffindors/marauders as one team haha

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 3 days

Note

I had this idea for the longest time, But….

RoR with platonic “child” Humanity deity. (Any characters of your choosing is fine.)

The deity was born when Adam and Eve were created, they embody all of humanity but their main personalities are from the mortals who made it to Valhalla or mortals who had the biggest impact on humanity itself.

The deity will use gen Z slang and terms due to it growing with humanity and is basically the embodiment of all human being’s rights and wrongs.

But, if humanity were to die off, they would too. If they were hurt in any way, a piece (roughly a chunk of the population) would die off. (Ex. Trip and fall = earthquake)

The thing is, they want to intimidate the gods. So they want to fight for humanity as well, even if they die the world would crumble with them. But this means they will also crumble the gods who used to be human as well and erase them from existence.

What would that be like when brought up?

-You could only scowl, listening to this meeting that you were a part of, as you were the deity of humanity itself, born shortly after Adam and Eve, who were the ones who raised you.

-Or at least raised until you stopped growing, as you were stuck in the body of a five-year-old child, and you have been for thousands of years now, much to your slight annoyance, as nobody took you seriously! They always treated you like a kid!!

-However, hearing that the gods wanted to destroy humanity, you were furious, you weren’t going to stand for this, “Are you all stupid?!”

-Your outburst was surprising as you stood up at your seat, so you were a little taller as many turned to you, some were angry at you for interrupting while others were quickly trying to backpedal on their previous words, as if they destroyed humanity, they would be essentially destroying you as well.

-You were well liked by many of the others, as you were so warm and bubbly, and your strange, constantly changing lingo was always amusing, most of the time. Odin was still annoyed that you taught Loki how to use ‘sus’.

-Zeus looked up at you, as he had forgotten that without humans, you wouldn’t exist and seeing you so angry, he knew he had to do right by you, as so many did care about you, mostly in a parental way since you did look so young.

-Zeus waved you down, so you could speak your peace, and you headed down, trying to look intimidating, but many were quickly cooing at you, thinking you looked so cute.

-Zeus looked down at you, “I apologize Y/N- I had forgotten about you. If all the humans die, you will die too.” You nodded softly, “Mood- but if you all are so worried about the state of the world, why didn’t y’all step up and do something about it instead of sitting on your butts. You complain about the younger generation not doing anything, but you freaken boomers are just as bad since y’all could have prevented it in the first place!”

-Loki was trying so hard to stifle his laughter, hearing your words and calling Zeus a boomer, his face quickly turning red.

-Zeus’ eyelid twitched at your words, hearing the same before you spoke again, your hands on your hips, “Humans deal with enough due to me always tripping and falling- they don’t need to deal with any more bull crap from sus gods who don’t do their jobs in the first place!”

-This was true, as you were linked to the earth itself, so when you fell or if you got injured, the earth was injured, and in term humans would be hurt. Like if you tripped and fell, depending on how hard you landed, there would be a massive earthquake.

-You then glared up at Zeus, “And remember Zeus, without humanity, without those to remember you all, the gods would fade away too. Perhaps we should do this, and I’ll fight for humanity- and when I die, all you will come with me.”

-It was a little scary to be honest, seeing you be so serious as the gods were quick to realize that your words were true, the gods needed the humans, but the humans didn’t need the gods, as they had lived for so many years without gods- without their help. They would disappear if humanity was destroyed.

-Hades approached, picking you up and holding you up on his hip, “Y/N is right- no matter how harsh their words are, we all grew lazy with our duties, only performing them on our whims, and not when we were supposed to.”

-Hearing his oldest brother’s words, Zeus nodded softly, as many were now feeling guilty for just trying to take the easy way out of dealing with the mess they failed to manage, and feeling guilty that you were the one to call them out on it.

-The meeting moved to a different topic, on what they all needed to do to make things better for everyone, and it was all thanks to your sassy words.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror zeus

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conkers-thecosy · 3 days

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Hello, hope you're doing well!

I noticed that you had privated your works on AO3 and was curious if this was a temporary thing, or if you were planning on keeping it this way? Not trying to come across as intruding or rude, I absolutely understand why you might have decided to do so.

-The previous "no AO3 account" anon, who just might have to finally put aside her stubbornness and embarrassment and make one

Hullo there!

I promise, you’re absolutely fine and your message hasn’t come across as rude or intrusive or anything negative at all, for starters! You’re all good 💛

Honestly I’m not sure how permanent the change will be, and I’m sorry it’s come to this really. I’ll be honest, I’ve been on the receiving end of some really personal harassment for a while now - it bounces about, and ebbs and flows, and for the most part I can ignore it. Unfortunately, for the first time I got “guest” comments on my fics that were just… well. Not very nice.

For that reason I’ve decided to make it so that folks will need an account to leave a comment, at least for now. I’m really sorry for readers like yourself who are being shut out at the same time, but truly, I hope you know I wouldn’t take this action lightly. I’m hopeful that once I’ve built myself up again I can change my permissions back to how they were, but I’m not sure how long that will take.

Thank you so much for your question, I’m so sorry I couldn’t answer this a little better!

I hope you’re having a good day!

~Conkers 🌰

#ask #anon ask

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antichilde · 3 days

Text

margin of error: part 2

satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.8k words mdni

in which gojo makes some progress…?

contents: student teacher!gojo, student reader, no curses, college au, slight age difference (gojo is 20, you are a couple years older), he falls first, no smut (for now)

notes: here we go again. as always comments/asks are appreciated. (image citation)

part one | ao3 post

Gojo’s pleasantly surprised when you’re the one to initiate the next conversation.

He looks up from his work and spots you hovering by the door to the study room where office hours are set to take place. It’s been a slow day, though to be honest it’s always a slow day when it comes to office hours. Usually people don’t need much help with an intro level course, especially not this early in the school year.

“Is Shoko here?” you ask, hugging your bag to your chest as you look around.

“Just me today. Can I help you with something?”

After carefully weighing your options, you step forwards into the room. “I was going to ask her to go over the stuff from class this week. We usually run through Yaga’s powerpoints.”

Nodding, Gojo opens his laptop and pulls Canvas up. You take a seat across from him, still a little reluctant, eyeing him with what might be dislike but is more likely distrust.

“Just this week’s stuff?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“Mm-hm.”

It’s not a lot of material, nor is it anything particularly challenging, and as Gojo reviews it with you he wonders if this is just some ploy to get closer to Shoko. She is pretty, and although Geto had said you like guys that doesn’t rule out the possibility that you’re into women as well. Besides, there’s no way you’d really need to go through such basic stuff, right? Not when you’d just been taught it the day before.

Your concentration suggests otherwise. He’s surprised by how seriously you take his explanations, jotting down notes and stopping him in several places to ask more questions. By the time he finishes, you seem to have a much firmer grasp on the material.

“Thank you,” you say, putting away your things. “That was helpful.”

He frowns. “You sound surprised.”

“I am, but you’re actually a pretty good teacher.”

The praise catches him off guard, hidden beneath a tone that suggests indifference. His brows furrow for a moment as he tries to get a read on you, though he schools his expression quickly.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he replies, deciding to take your words at face value. “Shoko’s pre-med track is picking up, so she’s just going to be helping with labs outside of class.”

“Yeah, she told me. I didn’t realize it would happen so soon though.” Biting your lip, you take a moment to think. “Is it okay if I stop in after the next lecture?”

“Of course,” Gojo says, already drafting a victorious text to Geto in his head. Nothing too smug, just something along the lines of ‘I’m totally her type she wants me so bad.’ Because that’s gotta be what you’re thinking, right? Asking to come back again so soon?

Getting to your feet, you scoop up your notebook and tuck it under your arm. “Thanks. I’ll see you in class, Gojo.”

You disappear into the hall, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. He sits back, already dissecting the encounter in his mind. It seems that you praise of his teaching abilities had been genuine after all. Definitely progress, not to mention you’d remembered his name this time.

The days grow shorter as October wears on. Gojo’s own school work begins to pick up, though of course most of it poses little difficulty for him. There’s only one class that he thinks might cause problems down the line, and that’s Creative Writing.

“How the hell did you land in Creative Writing?” Geto asks, pouring boiling water into his teacup. “That doesn’t exactly fit your M.O.”

Gojo groans, resting his cheek on the kitchen counter. “It was a last minute edition. I forgot we’re required to take a language arts class, and I’m not going to have time to do it next year.”

Setting down the kettle, Geto leans back against the kitchen cabinets. “I think it’ll be good for you. What’s on the syllabus?”

“Poetry,” Gojo spits, managing to squeeze several cobras worth of venom into that single word. “Who thought having a well-rounded education was a good idea?”

“Not me, that’s for sure. I’ve got a mandatory life sciences class coming up.” Geto pauses, leaning forwards to put himself in Gojo’s line of sight. “But who knows, maybe you’ll be my TA. Just don’t flirt with me too much, I hear you’re quite the distraction.”

Peeking out from beneath the curtain of his bangs, Gojo smiles. “So she said I’m distracting?”

“I think her exact words were ‘pain in the ass,’ but yeah, something along those lines.”

He goes back to sulking, his skin still pressed against the cool stone of the countertop. When he speaks, his voice is muffled.

“Did she really say that about me?”

Shaking his head, Geto smiles faintly as he straightens up. “No, I’m just messing with you. She did tell me that you’ve been helping her with her work though.”

So you’d talked to Geto about him, and by the sound of it you’d had positive things to say. That’s good to know, especially given how impossible it is to read you. Even after meeting a couple more times, Gojo has no idea what’s going on in your head.

“Do you think she’ll show next week?” he asks.

“At the party? Could go either way. I invited her, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. It’s hard to pin her down about that kind of thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gojo says, sounding thoughtful. “In case she ever asks me to pin her down.”

He laughs at Geto’s irritated expression. “C’mon, you know I’m kidding.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he concedes. “But I mostly said it to annoy you.”

Geto checks the time on his phone, pushing off of the cabinets and returning to his neglected mug of tea. Fishing out the bag, he tosses it into the compost.

“You’re not really going through with this, are you?” he asks, taking a sip and wincing as he burns his tongue.

“With what?”

“With the whole ‘I can make her fall for me’ bit. It’s kind of messed up.”

Leaning back, Gojo crosses his arms. He’s pulled this kind of thing before, winning hearts just for the hell of it, and though Geto has never exactly approved, this is the first time he’s said anything outright.

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?” he asks.

Geto sighs, raking his free hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “I told you it’s not like that. Is it really so hard to believe that I care about my friend’s wellbeing?”

“No, I guess not, though I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. She’s an adult who can take care of herself, right? That’s what you said last time.”

Geto’s phone buzzes before he can answer. He scoops it up from the counter, unlocking it. “Utahime says she’s on her way to drop off drinks for the party.”

The phone vibrates again as another text arrives.

“…And that she’s going to start charging a service fee if we keep asking her to get us alcohol.”

“That seems like a pretty empty threat,” Gojo says, grateful for the change of subject. “I doubt we’ll throw any more parties before I turn twenty-one.”

“God, I hope not. I’d like to get at least some of our security deposit back.”

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Geto sets his tea on the counter and turns away. “I’m going to meet her outside. I’ll text you if we need your help carrying anything.”

“Okay, just let me know!” Gojo calls after him, reaching for his phone. It’s muted before Geto’s even had time to shut the door.

Gojo bounces his knee under the desk, neglecting the poem that he’s supposed to be annotating. Creative Writing has been even more of a pain than he’d expected— something about it just doesn’t click with him. He sighs, frowning as his eyes drop to the paper.

To Gojo, pretty words are a means to an end. They’re good when he wants something, but when it comes to writing he can’t see much value in them. Why use something in a hundred words when one will do? And why curate those hundred words when they’re not even necessary in the first place?

“You look unhappy.”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, looking up to see you standing in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” he says with a smile, shoving the paper under his computer and safely out of sight. “Just doing some homework.”

Part of him wants you to push the subject, to question him about his behavior and ask if he’s alright. But you don’t. Instead you take your seat, pulling out your notebook and setting it on the table just like you always do.

“I was looking at the study guide for the next test, and I think I might’ve missed a couple things in class. Can we go over it?”

“Sure,” he says with a pang of disappointment. “Which parts are you having trouble with?”

All of them, it would seem. Gojo sneaks a couple covert glances at the clock, trying to work out whether or not you’re going to run overtime. Office hours technically end at 5:30, but he has the feeling that you’re going to need longer than that.

Shit. He’d planned to meet up with a girl at 6:00. At this rate there’s no way he’ll be able to make it.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, pausing to massage some life back into your cramped wrist. Even from across the table Gojo can see the indent in your middle finger, left there by the constant pressure of your pencil. His own hand twinges in sympathy.

“One sec, I just realized that I forgot to text Suguru back about something.”

He pulls out his phone, drafting a ‘sorry-I-won’t-be-able-to-make-it’ text. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you stretch, tracking the way your shirt catches on the underside of your bra. Suddenly bailing on his plans doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“I didn’t think I’d need so much help,” you say, checking the time and wincing when you see how late it is. “I can try and figure out the rest on my own if you need to go.”

Sending the message, Gojo shoves his phone into his pocket and turns his attention back to you. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I have anywhere I need to be.”

Hopefully you won’t catch him in a lie by following up with Geto, though maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to know he’s prioritizing you over other women.

“Ready to keep going?” he asks, placing a hand on the study guide and spinning around it to face you. You nod, picking up your pencil.

It’s fully dark out by the time the two of you leave the library, a combination of the days growing shorter and the extra hour or so that you’d spent together.

“I’ll walk you home,” Gojo says, holding the door open.

You pause inside the foyer. “Try rephrasing that.”

“Um.” His mind races as he tries to figure out where he went wrong. “…Can I walk you home?”

He half expects you to flat out reject him, but you brush past, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “If you really want to.”

He leaves the door to shut itself, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. It’s chilly out, a stiff breeze sweeping autumn leaves onto the sidewalk. They crunch under his shoes as he hurries to catch up.

“Thank you for staying late to help me,” you say, hugging yourself to keep your hands warm. Damn, he should’ve brought a jacket. What a missed opportunity— you’d look good draped in one of his coats.

“It’s no problem,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Were you working on your Creative Writing homework when I came in?”

The question throws him for a moment, but of course you know about his stupid writing class. He’ll have to ask Suguru about what other information he’s spilled to his advisory chat.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to annotate a poem, but it’s really not my forté.”

“I thought you were good at everything.”

He huffs out a sigh, the cold condensing his breath into a little cloud. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I like everything.”

It’s a long moment before you reply. The wind tosses around the branches overhead, filling up the silence between you. Somewhere in the distance a siren wails.

“Are you doing anything later tonight?” you ask.

Folding his arms behind his head, Gojo spins to face you, walking backwards like a campus tour guide. “Is that your way of asking me out?”

You frown. “What? No. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I would’ve said yes.”

Skirting around a pile of leaves, you readjust your bag, moving it to your other shoulder. “I know you would have. You’re not very subtle, Gojo.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, dropping his arms back to his sides.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been hitting on me for weeks.”

So you’re aware of it then.

Logically, he’d known that you can’t be that oblivious, but some part of him had been holding out hope that maybe you are. Because the other possibility is that you don’t react because you’re genuinely not affected by him, and that’s uncharted territory. Everyone likes Gojo. Even people who don’t know they like Gojo like Gojo.

Still, he can work with this. The fact that you brought it up might actually make things easier.

“I guess you’ve figured me out, so there’s no point in hiding it.” He pushes his glasses up his forehead, making a show of mustering up his courage. “I really like you, and I want to get to know you better.”

You look past him, focusing on something else. “You’re going to trip on that stick if you keep walking backwards.”

“You’d catch me though, right?”

“Probably not.”

Sighing, he turns to face the path. The stick is there just as you said it would be, and he nearly trips on it anyway.

“Aren’t you going to say you like me too?” he asks once he’s regained his composure.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You stop to grab the stick, tossing it onto the grass. It lands with a crunch in a drift of leaves. “But it doesn’t really matter either way.”

“It does to me. You’re not even going to give me a chance?”

You reflect on the question, then shake your head. “No. If you were telling the truth maybe I’d consider it, but I doubt you’re really interested in me.”

He frowns. “That’s a little harsh— you should be more confident. Hasn’t anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Yes. They have. My self esteem isn’t the problem here. I just don’t trust you.”

It’s almost eerie the way you say it, completely devoid of emotion. Had they been delivered in any other way the words would sound accusatory, and yet somehow he can tell you’re not angry.

“But I’m telling the truth. I really do like you.” His gaze meets yours, earnest and pleading. The look is calculated of course, but he’s played this game enough times to know how to fake honesty.

You study him for a moment before turning away, exhaling in what he’s almost positive is a laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. Next time put your glasses on first, your eyes give you away.”

The two of you slow as you approach your dormitory. Your calmness is throwing him off; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. He slips his glasses back over his eyes as the streetlights become more frequent.

“So, what?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “You think I’m telling you this because I have ulterior motives?”

“Something like that.” Stopping in front of the building, you turn to face him. “Not that I mind. Ulterior motives or not, you stayed late to help me study and I’m grateful for that. I can put up with some flirting if it means you’ll keep helping me, just don’t expect me to reciprocate.”

“And what if I’m being honest?”

“Then I’d tell you not to get your hopes up,” you say, starting up the steps. “Thanks for walking with me— I’ll see you around.”

Gojo waits a moment, watching as you scan your ID and pull open the door. He’s not sure whether or not to count your conversation as a win, still mulling it over as he sets off for his apartment. You’re definitely on to him, but at the same time you don’t seem to mind his advances. There’s only one thing that he’s 100% certain of: that he has a lot of questions for Suguru.

#self insert #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #second person #jjk self insert #mdni #margin of error tag

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666herescared · 2 days

Text

Imaginary Shadow Dad)Ch.12: How do you Manage?

—☆—

Hello! Sorry for the wait.My computer broke, and I was having trouble figuring out how to handle this one because of the massive difference, that is, Macaque watched Wukong mourn him for over a thousand (Give or take) YEARS!

I think I’ve got something brewing. Let’s hope it meets your expectations!

—☆—

Wukong honestly didn’t think this was real. After all, the largest shrine on Flower Fruit Mountain was dedicated to mourning his presumably dead lover. Especially since he’d kept it private so long. At most, he thought he’d be talking to a ghost, though much more likely was that the years of delusion had caught up to him.

Okay, maybe that’s not the right word. The Monkey King knew his lover was dead, and he understood that. The thing is that he’d been mourning for so damn long and still hadn’t accepted it. In fact, he still wore the wedding ring on his tail. His nightmares were meant for him alone, and his guilt ran deeper than the blood in his veins. If Mihou was alive, why did it still seem so hopeless?

Returning to the mountain, Sun Wukong looked around his cave for any signs of further hallucinations or whatever that voice was, and he finally heard it, on the wall to his right.

“Long time no see, Monkey King. Or, well, long time since you saw me.” the voice of his lover said with venom in his tone, causing Wukong to whip around and glare at the shadow on the wall.

Ah, great. Well, eyes of truth confirmed it. Not a hallucination. “Well then, I guess you never learned manners. It’s pretty cruel to take on the form of someone’s dead lover,” he claimed, staring down this presumed imposter with just as much poison in his voice.

That seemed to piss him off. “Oh no, I’m very real Wukong. But I’m not here for a fight-” then OF COURSE, Wukong had to interrupt.

“Yeah, right. Heh. I watched him die to my own damned hand, and to be honest? Still pretty broken up about it. So if you value your life, you’ll stop pretending to be him.” The king stretched himself taller to present a more threatening air, demeanor and furious expression only assisting with that. “Not listening, are you? Trust me Wukong, I already know-” “Stop pretending you know me. Call me Wukong one more time, and I’ll bash your head in.” The disrespect of this stranger!

Not gonna let him talk, is he?

“Wukong, if you actually list-ened!-” Macaque’s voice pitched higher when Wukong punched right into the shadows, then both froze for a moment.

The Monkey King would never get used to the shadow realm’s stasis. The feeling of his hand and only his hand having the blood stop flowing, while still not causing damage, was a strange experience to be sure, but his focus was on something else. That familiar fabric beneath his grip with those same stitches he’d memorized so long ago. So distant yet so vivid.. He - gently as he could - pulled his hand from the shadows, activating gold vision once more to check. He gasped at what his power revealed - familiar ears left with marks from their battles, one eyebrow split by a ghastly scar and the eye below a misty white, instead of the pale gold he always remembered - with fangs bared in a way he didn’t even see that fateful day. - “M-Mihou-” A punch was thrown as his former lover, who was apparently alive, stumbled out of the shadows with gritted teeth. He snapped his fingers and his two loyal sons appeared behind the king, holding him in place. Wukong could’ve overpowered them had he not been distracted by the sight of a man he thought was dead standing over him. “I’m not here to fight, Wukong, but not to reconcile either. I’m here, because you decided my son would be the perfect successor, and I want you to pick someone else.”

That snapped Wukong out of it. Pick someone else? What?! “I can’t just remove my magic from the kid, Macaque! He might literally die! Not to mention that he’d be a sitting duck against the demon bull family without it!”

“Are you doubting that my powers alone could protect my son?” the shadow wielder sneered.

“Oh fucking- You’re ignoring my other point entirely!” the sage responded angrily, pulling against the clones holding him, yet still avoiding using too much power.

“What? That removing magic will kill my kid? I fucking doubt it!” the darker monkey claimed in response.

“Okay then, Mr. Semi-Omniscient. Why not check for yourself?!” Wukong snarked angrily.

“Fine then!” Macaque’s top set of ears twitched, then the annoyance on his face faded to dread, and he paled to a concerning degree.

Wukong looked apprehensive, but kept up a brave face. “So? What’d you hear?”

After a moment of silence, Liu’er’s expression hardened again into a more thoughtful glare. “There’s really no safe way to prevent this..”

The Monkey King looked to the ground, soft remorse on his face. “Mihou-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! I-.. I need to think,” the Warrior muttered, snapping his fingers to get his sons to join him at his side instead of holding Wukong.

Now though, without anything to do, the Monkey King felt… awkward. “So…” He started after a while. “I can see you’re not wearing your ring anymore,” he said, looking somewhat somberly at the bare spot on Macaque’s tail. That certainly got a reaction. Not a good one though. “Yeah, well, someone crushed it onto my tail so hard that it would’ve rotted off if I left it on! Wonder who that was..,” the shadow wielder snapped at first, turning to look at Wukong again, yet his expression softened at the sight of Wukong’s own tail. Just a little. Barely noticeable. “I can see you're still wearing yours.”

“Heh, well… I guess I'm kinda sentimental,” the King said, voice quivering in a way only the Six-Eared trio in front of him could notice. One of the strange, skull faced clones, perked up and said something in an unfamiliar tongue. Macaque seemed to understand it though, because he muttered, “Yeah, that sounds reasonable. Thanks, Savage.”

“Savage”, huh? What a dorky name!

“Alright, Wukong.” The sage perked up when attention was turned to him again. “We need to agree not to fight, because either of our deaths would hurt the kid, and I don’t want him getting hurt in the crossfire,” the darker monkey began. The hero nodded in agreement. “Good. Now listen closely, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once; My sons are the only things that matter to me anymore, so you’re gonna keep my youngest safe, and if he ever gets hurt because you weren’t there, I’m going to trap you in my lantern for the rest of your immortal life.”

Of course, the threatening tone didn’t work on the king, even when he knew he was being serious. “So, like… do I not get any days off or anything?” Wukong asked with a small chuckle.

The darker monkey in front of him growled and stood back up straight. “No. He’s dealt with enough abandonment in his life. I’m not letting you make this a repeat of how my life fell apart.” The sage gave a soft eye roll and a scoff, which was enough to piss off Macaque again. Noticing this, Wukong defended himself. “Oh- C’mon, Macaque! I don’t want that to happen either! You must have heard me groveling at your shrine, almost every day, for over a thousand years!”

“I wouldn’t call it groveling. What sort of king grovels at the feet of someone they killed?” The shadow wielder’s voice came out sharp, and venomous.

“Uhh~ This one, apparently. Even though technically you didn’t die!” Wukong snarked with a smirk. One of the skull faced clones - Wukong couldn’t tell which - squinted at the sky and tapped Macaque’s shoulder, though the dark primate was far too pissed off to acknowledge it.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he snapped, ignoring the concerned chitters Savage was supplying.

“Uh- No, actually. Now that I know you aren’t dead, I’m pretty sure all the immortalities I gave you had something to do with you surviving that.” Wukong sassed as Savage was getting a little louder.

“HA! As if! All that would’ve done was prolong my suffering! I got myself out of that forest after you turned your back on everything we’d built!” Macaque exclaimed. fur in front of Savage’s ears moved back, revealing the slits that laid underneath as they hissed - then Rumble interrupted, leaping between the immortals and creating a massive shadow arrow that pointed up at the hole in the roof of the cave. It appeared to be sunset-.. Shit.

“Wait… He was right outside when we left!” Wukong shouted frantically.

“What the- How is it taking him so long? Did he fall in the lava at the flaming mountains?! Oh no- WUKONG! GO GET HIM!” The shadow wielder demanded, pointing towards the cave entrance.

“What?! He’s your cub!” the king rebutted.

“It’s been ten years since he last saw me! I’m not gonna knock his life further off balance!” “Wait- So you abandoned him? Pot calling kettle-”

“Right back at‘cha!”

“Monkey King?” Mk’s voice came from down the hall.

The six-eared monkeys immediately fell back into the shadows, leaving the king on his own. Peeking around the corner, Wukong could see what had taken the cub so long. He gasped at the cuteness.

The little white Monkeys were curiously patting and pulling at Mk’s invisible limbs and climbing all over him to try and figure him out. The Monkey King’s new apprentice was begrudgingly letting them do so while still trying to walk. It was so dang… adorable! “That’s just about the cutest dang thing I ever saw!” the sage whispered giddily, looking around the corner of his little cottage at the young boy. “We’ll talk about this later.” He whispered to his shadow, before backflipping from the ground up onto the roof of his shack. “You looking for someone, bud?” the ruler asked with a knowing smirk.

“Monkey King!” the young monkey exclaimed, running over to the shack and startling the little monkeys off of him. The king was almost startled by the sudden movement himself, but quickly recognized his speed as an effect of having the magic of two mystic monkeys in his body. That's gonna take some getting used to.

“Sup, bud? So… where's my staff?” the king asked, looking around playfully, before looking back and noticing the panic on his young admirer's expression.

“I’m so sorry, Monkey King! I was trying to get it to you, but there was this whole thing with the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan, also their son, but he wasn't there when she took-” Mk started, rambling and starting to blush when he brought up Redson.

He was freaking out. Wukong wasn't prepared to handle this, so he tried to put the boy’s mind at ease. “Hehe, calm down kid! I already know. Seee… I've been kinda watching you.”

“Huh?” the boy snapped out of it and gave a confused look, before gasping dramatically. “Wait- That was you?!”

The king couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the young monkey's face. “Oh~ The look on your face! You're perfect!” he cackled, though he felt the glare on his back.

Mk looked confused and tilted his head up at Wukong, squinting slightly. “Perfect for what?”

Oh man, the kid was gonna love this. Wukong did a triple flip over Mk's head, crossing his arms as he landed. “To be my…” he started, halfway turning around and pointing at the boy. “-successor!”

Mk looked at him with disbelief for a moment, before shaking it off and starting to pace. “Oh great! I'm dreaming again! Can my brain stop taunting me, please?”

“Uh~ kid? If you'd like I could slap you, but I don't wanna hurt you on acci–dent..” Monkey King tried to keep up the facade, but he looked like he saw a ghost, staring at the headband his successor wore. Huh.. Macaque kept that? For over 3,000 years?

Mk looked confused and placed a hand on his headband self-consciously. “What? What is it?”

The king snapped out of it and shook his head a bit. “Uh~ C-Can I see that headband for a moment, bud?” he asked tensely, reaching one hand out.

The boy in front of him looked suspicious, but untied it and placed it in his hand, letting his hair fall into its long and messy natural appearance. He could trust the Monkey King with it, right?

The sage was gentle with the band of fabric, then looked at the embroidery and gave a soft sob that one could mistake for a cough. It was like he was holding his memories in his hands.. He handed it back with a soft smile. “Thanks, kid..”

Mk smiled and took it back. “Of course, Monkey King!” he grinned. He was happy to help, “Now; what are we gonna do about the giant evil bull king who's RAVAGING my home, and probably KILLING my friends!?” -but he also had some basic logic.

Ah, right. “Pfft, c'mon! You can handle it!” Wukong brushed it off, falling back onto his cloud as it formed behind his back. “Consider it a trial,” he claimed, before spotting the glare of the shadows, and adding, “Tell you what; If you take more than~ thirty minutes to win, I'll come and save ya’, alright? You'll be fine,” he assured him, glancing at Macaque a couple times to gauge if that sated him. The glare was there, but it'd softened.

“Well- How would I even get back?! How- How can you just trust me to figure it out?” the boy asked with a squirlish look, gesticulating wildly. Small flickers of purple and gold magic slipped along his body, but were calmed when the Monkey King placed his hands on Mk’s shoulders, steadying him. That much uncontrolled magic.. Hm.

“Kid. I’d never tell you to do anything you can’t do. If I say you can beat DBK, you can beat DBK. Just believe in yourself! Even a smidge, can make all the difference,” he said with a soft smile. “And as for that other thing.. You’re not scared of heights, are you?” the sage suggested ominously with a more mischievous grin.

A moment later, Wukong hopped onto his cloud and offered Mk a hand to get on behind him. “Now remember, you have thirty minutes to beat him before I come to help. You succeed-.. I dunno, I’ll give you one of my first merch items! That sound good?”

The kid was nervous until the reward was mentioned. Then he got excited. “REALLY?! Like, the Monkey King original first edition plush?!” the fanboy exclaimed cheerfully.

“Sure, if that’s the one you want. I honestly expected you to be more of an action figure kid, but that’s good too,” the king responded cheerfully, before zipping the cloud forward with no warning. Mk, startled, grabbed the ruler’s shoulders and shut his eyes tight. Within a single minute they had reached the battle, and Wukong was picking Mk up and placing him on the ground. The king patted his head twice and said in his native language, “Good luck, little monkey. Here's hoping it goes well!” before zipping off. Macaque was psychically bugging him again.

The boy was stunned by the sudden speed for a moment longer before a massive crash sounded behind him and he finally spotted Mei, who was in full dragon form and beating the shit out of Redson. He perked up, phantom tails flicking cheerfully. “Jie Jie!”

She was startled and looked over, eyes lighting up in recognition. She threw the Demon Bull Prince into the air and slapped him away with her tail, before turning her full attention to Mk. “Di Di! You’re okay!” she said happily, hopping into the air and doing a somersault as she shapeshifted back to human form. She landed with a grin and bounced up to her brother to give him a big ol’ hug. “I was so worried!” “I’m fine, Jie Jie,” the little monkey claimed with a smile.

“Xiao Houzi! Did you find the Monkey King?!” his Ba Ba called from the ground, always one to gather information.

“I did, Ba Ba!” he replied.

“Then where the heck is he?!” Dadsy called up as well, almost sounding pissed. “He said he’d give me the original plushie if I could do it! He’ll be here in like half an hour!” Mk called down with a grin. Pigsy face-palmed while Tang stimmed, a nervous and conflicted look on his face. After all, that plushie’s worth a fortune! But he didn’t want his son to get hurt. Mei, ever the enabler of Mk’s stupid decisions, immediately called her bike and grabbed Mk’s helmet from its saddle bag to put it on his head. “We’ll be backing you up, Monkey Man!” she said with a grin, hopping down from the building with a backflip. The Monkey Kid smiled down at his big sister for a moment, before hopping aboard the dragon-cycle. Mei had given him one or two lessons in her free time, so he knew the basics, but he didn’t expect how different it was when actually going fast. His turns were tight. He worried he might tip the bike over by going quite so fast. Then DBK noticed him. Ah, shit.

DBK scowled. It was that pest his brother called a son. He’d have to stop him without killing him. Such a pain.

Going quick, and hearing the Demon Bull King saying something, Mk ignored it and tried to think of an attack he could use. His balance was thrown off, but he managed to right himself, though his panic was causing his magic to grow restless. The wild flickers of magic seemed to blend in his eyes, causing purple and yellow to swirl as the world turned gold and lightning zapped from his eyes. He swore to himself, skidded to a stop, and covered his zapping eyes, only to peek through his fingers and spot the furnace burning in DBK’s chest, which held the staff in its center. He absently spotted the indignation on the king’s face from having the little monkey just skid past him instead of attacking. A plan began to form in his mind as he once more ignored the Bull King’s insults and began driving. An attack was thrown at the ground in front of him (DBK must be a poor shot) and Mk managed to tilt the bike up and drive right along his hand and up his arm. The ruler noticed the plan brewing in the boy’s mind and went to try and snuff it out by plucking him off.

The Little Monkey just launched himself off of the bike and right towards the furnace on his chest, meanwhile the bike tipped over to the other side and was caught by Mei. The Demon Bull King looked shocked and almost angered as Mk launched into the furnace. The young boy gripped the staff, yet quickly felt stiff, hard, rock surrounding him. With a gasp, he pulled on the staff harshly.

Before all went black.

—

After checking her bike for damage, Mei noticed how everything had gotten quiet. She looked around, worriedly, soon spotting how everyone, even their opponents, had frozen in shock and dread. What happened? She felt a sinking feeling in her gut and looked up at the hole in DBK’s chest. She’d figured it out.

Tears fell from her face as she dropped her bike and ran back to get a better view. Oh no.. Oh, gods no! “DI DI!” She gave a terrified, blood curdling yell. Her baby brother, the smaller, sweeter, more sensitive boy she loved so much, had gotten killed in the furnace!.

She growled harshly as she shapeshifted slowly, grunting in pain at the exertion it took to shift so often within a day. She didn’t care at the moment. The bastard that killed her little brother was standing right front of her, standing still as though in shock. She lunged at him and threw him towards a nearby building, snapping her friends and foes out of their stupor.

Encouraged, she moved to strike again, but then DBK gasped and bent over in pain, clutching his chest. She watched as a strange stone egg fell from the hole in the furnace. It shifted, it cracked, and it seemed to throw itself into the air. She stepped back in shock and lost her focus, shifting back to a mostly human form. Sandy had managed to get over there in time to catch her, and still got to watch as the Monkey king’s staff cut through the stone shell and burst it, revealing Mk bathed in golden light so bright and purple shadows so dark that they should’ve overpowered one another. He rested the staff across his shoulders as the light formed a circlet across his forehead and the shadows formed six dark ears, three on each side. With a cackle of pure delight, the boy rushed DBK with the staff, jumping up to strike him upside the chin, and growing the staff to jab at his face. Launched backwards by his attack, the boy narrowly dodged the laser that was fired at him from his enemy’s arm as he fell to the ground, then used the staff to bounce back up to DBK’s level.

Although daunting, DBK’s size made him hard to miss, and he was repeatedly attacked by the nimble kid. Said kid then landed back on the ground and cut off a large part of a nearby building, intent on using it as a hammerhead which he swung down at DBK. The demon wasn’t about to be taken down so easily, however. He fired his laser, shattering the building into dust, before landing a brutal punch and sending the boy flying into the ground nearby.

Skidding across the pavement was painful, but not quite as much as DBK’s next taunt. “Even with that old fool’s staff, you can’t defeat me! My brother should be disappointed in you.” His brother. Macaque. The six-eared Macaque. It wasn’t hard to deduce.

Mk wasn’t a fool, he’d long since figured out that Liu’er was his Shadow Dad. If the visual and magical similarities weren’t enough, the fact that a gift from him said Liu’er Mihou on it was. He’d just denied letting it sink in. Now though? With a hulking monstrosity destroying the city, and taunting him with the prospect of his first real parent being disappointed?..

He felt pain; The thought was one of his own. An intrusive one he hated. He felt anger; He didn’t appreciate DBK calling his Shadow Dad “brother”, and he didn’t deserve to know a name his father never even told his own son. He felt release; He didn’t have to rely on Shadow Dad’s opinion of him anymore. He’d never make him proud if he was so quick to abandon a child. He felt rage; Why should he care what Shadow Dad thinks?! That bastard didn’t even care enough to stick around! He didn’t even tell his son his real name! Did he really think so little to believe he’d never find out?

He grit his teeth as he picked up the staff with a brutal grip, standing back up, fully enveloped with a dark aura. “And who told you I care what your brother thinks?” He whipped around to throw another strike at DBK. This wasn’t just business anymore; this was personal. As though on instinct he slammed the Ruyi Jingu Bang into the Demon Bull King’s face, spines made of shadow running along the length of it to stab and slash at the ruler’s skin. Mk didn’t even notice.

“Insolent brat!” DBK exclaimed, launching another laser shot at the boy, only to find he’d seemingly disappeared.

“Missing someone?” His voice was layered with echoes of the void and it was a chilling sound, even for his allies. He jammed the staff straight into the Bull King’s back, slamming the beast into the ground. A swing at the demon king’s side was countered by a laser shot, though Mk just darted around it.

The ruler stood and sent another shot at the boy, though the odd purple lightning in his eyes decided to deflect it, causing the young adult to yelp in pain. It felt like his eyes were burning, though he just channeled that pain into more determination. He would finish this fight. Not for Monkey King. Not for Shadow Dad. Just for him and his city. He would finish this fight.

He slammed his staff into the ground, causing blocks of it to change shape. Earth turned into a metal mech of enormous size, shaped like a monkey. Yes. His choice of final attack was a video game reference. “You wanted me to fight you?” he started, pulling out a larger version of the staff from his mech’s ear. “Well, I’ll fight you then.” He launched into the sky and grew the staff even larger. “It’s time for you and your family to be brought to justice!” he exclaimed, readying a final blow. “Here comes Monkey Kid!”

He slammed the ginormous staff down hard, creating a crater in the earth and shaking the ground. As he shrunk the staff back to a manageable size and lowered to earth again, he wondered if he knocked anything out of orbit with that attack. He spotted a shocking amount of cuts on DBK’s form as he watched the king attempt to stand. Huh. Guess he must’ve knocked him into something sharp.

“Im…possible..” the ruler tried to claim.

Mk snickered. “Nothing is impossible if you just believe in yourself. You, my friend, just got M.K.O-ed!” The corny line was delivered with his voice back to it’s normal state.

Red Son shoved some rubble off of himself and looked down into the crater. He almost looked shocked that it was his father who wound up so harmed. “Do-Do you think this is over, Noodle Boy?! Well, it isn’t! Get out of that dorky mech and fight me, you coward!�� the prince exclaimed, before fainting and falling into the crater next to his father. Mk snickered at the sight and reached down, only to be stopped by Princess Iron Fan’s winds.

“We know when we’ve been bested,” she grit her teeth as she showed her face. “But this won’t be the last you see of us, Noodle Boy,” she trailed off into maniacal laughter as her winds carried her and her family to safety.

“Whu- Hey! No fair! You can’t just run away when I’m just about to win!” Mk exclaimed in annoyance and disappointment.

“Mk!” Mei called from the ground. The boy in question peeked out of his cockpit to see what she needed. “You totally kicked DBK’s butt! Without us, the City would be toast!” She didn’t seem to realize that the city was already kinda destroyed.

Nor did Mk, honestly. “Hehe, yeah.” He hopped out of the mech and landed in front of his sister, who immediately hugged him tightly.

“Now don’t scare me like that ever again! I thought you were dead, twice today!” the dragon girl exclaimed, holding him close, then Sandy picked both up into a group hug.

“You did it, little man!” the gentle giant said in an almost soothing tone.

“Xiao Houzi!” Mr.Tang exclaimed as he ran over and reached his arms out for a hug, at which point Sandy put the young adults back on the ground. He immediately gave one of his soft yet sturdy hugs and held his son close in his arms with a sigh of relief.

“Aww, did I really scare you that much?” the boy asked, before both he and his Ba Ba got lifted into a tight hug.

“Yes! Never do that again, dang it!” Pigsy exclaimed as he squeezed his family in a bone-popping hug. “Okay! Okay, I’ll try!” Mk replied through mirthful giggles, managing to free an arm to hug his dad as well. It might not last with the Demon Bull King walking around, but they were safe for now, and at this point, Mk’d earned that dang Monkey King plush!

Macaque smiled at his son as he celebrated, before lowering into the dark and finding his Brother once more. He took a deep breath, and exclaimed,

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!” This was gonna be a long night.

—☆—

SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I didn’t even realize how bad it was getting!

I just wanted this to be perfect. I’m so sorry.

I hope you all enjoyed anyway, and as always,

Have fun, and happy scrolling!

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