#commission* for like a week and he like will not leave her side. and everyone at the facility is like wtf bc it's the only time they have

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Escapism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @twst-ophelia.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Slight Marking, Disassociation, and Possessive Behavior.

The mirror would be ready to use, by now.

Really, that’d been your first mistake – forgetting what you’d learned during your first months in this strange new place, having enough faith in the friends you’d made and your own middling abilities to tell anyone and everyone you could find that you were finally going home. You’d been over-eager, blinded by joy, and within a week of Crowly admitting that he’d found a way to return you to your own world using the Magic Mirror, it’d been common knowledge across all of Twisted Wonderland that it’d only be a few more weeks before you were returned to your own world. Ace teased you for being so eager to drop out halfway through your third year and Grim stuck to your side with twice his usual clinginess, and despite the bittersweetness of knowing you’d likely never be able to come back, you were happy. You were alright with leaving them, so long as it meant you could go home.

And you did leave them, in a way. If you looked at it from a certain angle.

You just didn’t get to go home.

There was a wet, slick noise, then a pang of pure agony racing from your cunt to your core. Involuntarily, you jerked away from the painful sensation, but it was an effort made in vain. The heavy arm wrapped around your waist only coiled tighter, your back soon drawn flush against a broad chest. Leona’s tail swatted contentedly at the down-stuffed mattress as he let out a low, airy chuckle. “Not gonna get away that easily,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Remember what happened last time you tried to act-up? I don’t think the basement’s gotten any warmer.”

Basement. Calling it a basement would be like calling him a housecat. You’d been locked in that dark, frigid dungeon of a cellar for days before Azul – because he was the one you scratched, the one who got to decide how cruel your punishment was going to be – let you out, and even then, it’d taken another week of huddling by barely-smoldering fireplaces and wrapping yourself in any shred of fabric you could find to shake the chill that’d lodged itself underneath your skin. You stopped trying to lash out at them, after that. As much as their so-call ‘affection’ scared you, their anger scared you that much more.

You couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten their hands on a place like this – ancient and only a step above decrepit. Their means weren’t exactly limited, not with a prince and the heir to a fortune that might as well have made him royalty funding their little venture, but it was still hard to imagine the people you’d gone to school with keeping you locked inside of an abandoned castle, surrounded only by more woodland than you could ever hope to walk through. It might’ve been more enjoyable (or, bearable, at least) if your captors had taken a more absentee approach, if they’d given you time to adjust to being in the middle of a never-ending forest with only stone walls and dust-covered furniture for company, but no, at least one of them always seemed to be at no more than arm’s length, there to remind you exactly why you’d been relegated to the role of princess, trapped in her tower. You’d never been able to call any of them your friends, and yet, the betrayal still stung.

“Would you keep your mouth shut?” Vil mumbled, with a particularly sharp movement of his wrist. The heel of his palm ground into your clit, and against your better judgement, you withered into Leona – the sound of your pulse beating in your ears deafening, but still not enough to mask the deep, self-satisfied purr rising from his chest. “You’re frightening the poor thing. Look at her eyes – they’re practically glazed over.”

 “Is she scared, or just bored half-to-death by your shitty excuse for a handjob?” He bowed his head, nipping playfully at the corner of your jaw. Of all your captors, he was the most fond of marking what he considered to be his property – even more so if he had a captive audience. “If I was the one between her legs, she’d be feelin’ too good to think about anything else. She’d already be fucked good n’ dumb.”

“That’s not—” The air caught in your throat as Vil spread his fingers apart, but you fought to go one. “I don’t feel anything when you—”

Vil pulled out of you entirely, only for his hand to come down on your pussy with a harsh, slick crack. You couldn’t swallow back your pained cry, couldn’t stop yourself from shrinking further into Leona. “No lying, now, darling. You know how easy it is to hurt his feelings.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulders. Blearily, your attention drifted to the doorway of your bedroom – to Riddle, standing stiffly on the other side other side of the threshold. You stiffened, but Vil didn’t seem surprised. “Going to watch today, Rosehearts?”

Obviously. As complicit as they all seemed with your imprisonment, there were a few – Riddle, Idia, Azul – that withheld from treating your prolonged abuse like a group project. You’d been surprised, at first, that Vil wasn’t a part of that collective, but his tendency towards exhibitionism made sense. He couldn’t love what he couldn’t flaunt, even if his audience was limited to a handful of former classmates.

“O-of course not,” Riddle stuttered out, predictably. His pale face was tinted a nearly violent shade of red. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t hurting her.”

You felt Leona’s grin against your throat. “Hear that, pretty girl?  He thinks we’d hurt you.” The space Vil left vacant was quickly filled – three of his calloused fingers soon filling your drenched pussy. You clenched your eyes shut, grit your teeth, but that did little to stop him from burrowing his claws into your side and tearing a little, cracked whimper through your sealed lips. “Don’t see him doing much to stop us, though.”

Vil only offered an unimpressed shake of his head, but Riddle straightened. “Are you implying that I couldn’t—”

“I’m saying that you won’t.” Leona cut him off swiftly, the edge in his tone sharped and playful. “Not if you want the next turn.”

For a moment, Riddle didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.

Then, with a pointed glare, he turned on his heel and abandoned your bedroom altogether, likely dedicating himself to finding another part of this terrible castle to wait Leona out in.

As soon as his footsteps faded out of earshot, Leona’s teeth were buried in the curve of your throat – drawing blood in an instant.

~

Out of all your captors, it was Kalim who’d disappointed you the most.

You hadn’t expected this from the others, but in hindsight, you wouldn’t put it above them, either. Azul had never been able to draw a line between what he wanted and what he could have, Riddle had never been able to keep his base impulses at bay for very long, and Leona… well, Leona couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was interested in things like your ‘autonomy’ or ‘independence’. Kalim, though – he’d always been nice to you. Not overly kind, but nice, and in a place like NRC, that was something you’d been able to appreciate.

It almost didn’t make sense to see him in a place like this, to connect his presence here with the looming fact of your continual imprisonment. It didn’t make sense that the boy who’d once thrown a parade to celebrate you finally accepting an invitation to one of his banquets would be resting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixed on your reflection in a pearl-lined vanity as he pulled what felt like the hundredth gem-studded necklace into place at the base of your throat. You didn’t need jewelry. They rarely gave you anything to wear outside of loose-fitting, sheer dresses and the occasional piece of lingerie, but Kalim would’ve plucked the moon from the sky if it meant he could give it to you in a velvet-lined box. That was what he’d told you, at least, the first time you’d turned him down.

Actually, maybe you didn’t deserve to feign surprise. They’d all tried to do it the right way before their graduations, whether it was Vil beckoning you to sit on his lap during a dorm leader meeting or Riddle turning a dozen shades of pink as he asked if you’d care to attend an Unbirthday Party as his guest, sometime. You’d turned them all down, batting Leona’s hand away before it could settle on your shoulder, telling Azul you wouldn’t trust him as a business partner, let alone a boyfriend. Between school and a new apocalypse-scenario every other week, you never had the time (let alone the energy or desire) to date, as idiotic as it sounded to suggest that any of this could’ve started with a handful of schoolyard crushes. Maybe, if you’d given them a chance to see that it wouldn’t have worked out on their own terms, it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe, you would’ve gotten to go home.

Or, maybe, you just would’ve been snatched up before that thread of hope could ever be dangled in front of you. Either way, a preferable alternative.

“The sapphires were a better fit,” Azul chimed in as Kalim pulled the next necklace into place – a loose riviere studded with rubies. It was the fifth of as many variants, only differentiated by the color of the jewel. Kalim claimed that he’d only meant to get you one, but ever the glutton, he hadn’t been able to choose. “Red is such a garish color. Our little princess deserves to feel as royal as we treat her, doesn���t she?”

If Kalim noticed the barb, he didn’t seem to mind. “I think you look beautiful in red,” he said, leaning down to push a kiss into your temple. His smile was as bright as it’d ever been, and you hated him that much more for it. “Then again, you look beautiful in everything. Why don’t you keep them all?”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his jewelry, but you were cut off by the shutter of a camera, the hint of a flash in your peripheral. You glanced towards Azul, who only shrugged in response., sinking further into his armchair “For Idia. He’s going to be tied up with a research project for another week or so, and for whatever reason, it’s fallen on my shoulders to make sure that he doesn’t completely succumb to his self-pity and throw the gates of Tartarus open.” He thought, for a moment. “For a second time, I mean.”

You couldn’t be sure why you said it. It was an instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to grab the first blade you saw and twist it. Idia was, by far, the most distant of your captors, and when he did show his face, he barely spoke and never touched you. Even in a castle of rapists and kidnappers, he’d found a way to make himself an outsider.

“Azul?” You made a point of keeping your eyes on your reflection as you went on. “Could you tell Idia I want to see him again? When he has time, I mean.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

Finally, Kalim forced out an only partially strained laugh, squeezing your shoulders with just a little too much force. “Is something wrong? If you want to ask for something, you don’t have to wait for Idia.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond to him. “Please, Azul?”

From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance between you and Kalim. Eventually, he let out an airy sigh and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Although, I do have to wonder what you’re getting up to.”

Your only answer came in the form of a tight smile, a slight shrug. Kalim didn’t waste time taking up the next necklace: a choker of braided strands of pure, glittering gold. This time, he fastened it tightly enough to bruise.

~

You almost felt bad for Idia, when you let yourself think about what you were doing.

Almost.

The bare skin of his chest was warm under your palm, the flames of his hair tinted a deep pink - a color you might’ve found charming, in any other situation. He was beneath you, currently, his face half-buried in a pillow while you rolled your hips idly against his, your pace slow and careless. He wasn’t as authoritative as Leona, as demanding as Riddle, and you liked that about him. But, his submissiveness meant you had to do most of the work, which you liked less.

At least he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it. Bias caused conflict, and his occasional encounters with the others wilted before shriveling into complete nonexistence shortly after you declared him your unlikely favorite. Even now, he kept his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip caught between his pointed teeth as your pussy clenched around him. You’d gone numb to pleasure in the first weeks of your captivity, but any amount of physical contact seemed to overwhelm him. It might’ve been refreshing, if you hadn’t been so, so exhausted.

Gradually, your movements slowed, your body stilling on top of his. A second passed before he opened one of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips quirking downward in mixed disappointment and frustration. “W-Why did you stop?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you collapsed onto him, slotting your chest against his and propping your chin on his collarbone. “I never made it to graduate,” you said, absentmindedly, relying on the haze of lust to hide just how flat your voice was. “Never got to say goodbye to anyone, either, but that was never going to happen. The other are too mean to me for that.”

His expression took on a somber lull. It might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t been able to feel his cock twitching inside of you. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to wait, but Azul said— and Leona—”

“I know, I know.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I just—”

You cut yourself off with another sigh, just as unbelievable as the first. Thankfully, Idia was eager to take the bait. “Whatever it is, I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you.” His shaking hands found their way to your waist. “I love you.”

“I want to see Ramshackle again,” you said, without hesitation. Immediately, you felt him stiffen against you, and let your tone drag into something desperate, something pleading. “Just this once. I won’t even go inside, and Night Raven’s on break, right now. No one’s going to be on campus.” You paused, pecked the corner of his lips. “Please, Idia. Nobody else has to know.”

He still looked skeptical, but he was going to break your heart, he wasn’t going to do it while his cock was still pulsing inside of you. After only a moment of hesitation, he let out a shallow breath and nodded hastily. “One trip. And the other never find out.”

Instantly, you brightened, beaming as you pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss – a proper kiss, this time, something you’d never willingly imitated with any of your captors. He would know that. He wasn’t the most domineering, but if the hidden cameras dotted across your bedroom were anything to go by, he had his own kind of competitive streak.

A hitched moan reverberated against your mouth. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, your chest still pressed into his, he started to move on his own – his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you from below. His pace was unsteady, his rhythm nonexistent, but your clit scraped against the flattened plane of his pubic bone and however meager it might’ve been, there was just enough stimulation to melt into. Vaguely, you were aware of a distant whimpering, of Idia’s face buried in the crook of your neck, but you let it fade into the background – into the constant fog of static that’d been cast over your conscious mind since you woke up in this terrible place.

When you felt his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, it was all you could do to close your eyes and think of home.

~

“It’s a pretty basic teleportation scheme,” he’d explained, as he led you through the castle’s entryway after pulling you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The winter air cut through your thin dress without mercy, but you’d fought not to shiver, not to give him a reason to second-guess if he should be doing this. Right now, he was convinced he loved you more than he feared letting you get away, and you couldn’t do anything to break that delusion. “Ortho handled most of the hardware, but he was following my designs. The NRC waypoint was supposed to be a limited-time mechanic, but I never cut it out of the system. It should still work – for a couple trips, at least.”

You’d let him ramble about how many hours it’d taken to put together, nodded enthusiastically as he described all the effort he’d poured into ruining your life. He kept his hand locked around yours as he led you onto a shining, steel platform, only letting go to punch the coordinates into his tablet. There was a flash of light, a slight buzzing in your ears, and then, you were standing in front of the gates to Night Raven College, already open and waiting for your arrival.

You didn’t wait for Idia to move, to say anything. Rather, you let the gem shard (pilfered from one of Kalim’s more recent attempts to win back your attention; the jewel in its entirety had been larger than your balled fist) that you’d stowed away in your sleeve fall into your hand and stabbed the jagged end into his back. You didn’t wait to see if the wound took before breaking into a sprint towards the Hall of Mirrors.

You’d be able to see, later on, that it was far from the best idea you’d ever had. There was a good chance Crowley abandoned any work he might’ve started as soon as you went missing, if he really had found a way to send you hope at all. The injury you’d dealt to Idia was far from fatal, and you’d be in for more than just a few days in the cellar if they caught you, but the desire to get out of here, to go home drowned out your better judgement – leaving your tired mind empty and your body dependent on pure, unadulterated desperation as you ran towards the familiar, pitch-black dome on the outskirts of campus. Your skirt snagged on roots and twigs, your bare feet numb and aching in-turns, but you didn’t dare to slow down, to look behind you. By the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, your throat was dry, your heart beating in your ears. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked, and you shouldered your way inside.

The Magic Mirror stood, dark and stoic, in the center of the room. You allowed yourself a single breath of relief, a moment to let the past few months— no, the past three years of your life melt away before moving toward it.

You made it all of two, three steps before something sprung from the darkness and wrapped around your ankle – cutting into your flesh and, with a sudden jerk, dragging you to the floor. You stifled a scream, reflexively moving to tear at your new restraints, but froze when you saw exactly what you were caught in.

A thick braid of vines wrapped around your leg – except they weren’t vines, not really.

They were briars.

Rows upon rows of hooked thorns were embedded into the skin of your calf, drawing blood wherever they made contact. The pain was instant, searing, but you didn’t care – tearing at your bondage even as the thorns bit into your hands, as the rope of briars drew that much tighter. Tears blurred your vision, and so distracted by your own misery and panic, you almost didn’t notice the sound of clipped heels against marble floors, the dark shadow that soon blocked out what little light you had. You didn’t have to look at him. You already knew who it was.

In the end, though, you weren’t given much of a choice.

You really should’ve been more used to that, by now.

A gloved hand caught you by the chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and meet Malleus’ expectant, prying stare. He took a moment to evaluate your ragged dress, the bruising and love-bites painted down your neck before a small smile came to rest over his lips; the barest hint of pointed teeth catching in the moonlight. “And to think, I thought it was only nostalgia drawing me back to this lonely place.” He spared a glance toward the mirror. “And I suppose you plan to use that ancient thing to return to your own world?”

“Malleus,” you gasped his name, hoping that would be enough to communicate the depths of your despair. “I don’t have a lot of time, I— They’re coming for me, and—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly. “I want to go home.”

His only response came in the form of a low hum, dull and dismissive. All it took was a snap of his fingers, a certain glint in his narrowed eyes, and the mirror shattered into more pieces than you could ever hope to put back together.

This time, you couldn’t swallow back the ragged sob that tore past your lips, the pathetic noise echoing off the stone walls. You tried to crawl towards the fractured pieces, but Malleus kneeled to your height, letting out a patronizing coo as he wrapped an arm around your midriff, pulling you against his chest and suffocating any possible hope you might’ve had for escape. Distantly, you were aware of a rush of footsteps, of a collar (as heavy as it was useless) snapping shut around your neck, but Malleus didn’t falter. With your limp body in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face your captors where they’d clustered in the entryway.

It was Leona who spoke first, predictably. He never could let anyone else be the center of attention. “What do you want, Draconia?”

Malleus, on the other hand, was in no rush, letting his gaze fall back to you. “I was surprised, when I heard of her disappearance. I know how fragile mortal lives could be, but I thought, surely, a human who’d befriended so many powerful mages ought to be a little more enduring.”

After he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Vil summoned his spell book, and Kalim’s fists clenched at his sides, his jealousy threatening to outweigh his pacifistic nature. None of it would’ve made a difference. If Malleus wanted to, he could reduce them all to ash with little more than a wayward thought. If Malleus wanted to, he wouldn’t need five other conspirators to have you at his mercy.

And yet, he only let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer to his chest. “Then again, if I’d known those powerful mages would struggle to keep watch of such a precious item, I might’ve been less generous.”

“Get to the point.”

This time, he chose to obey. “It seems,” he started, bowing his head and letting his lips brush against your cheek. “As if you’re having trouble keeping this little one in line.”

His grin was wider and more satisfied than you’d ever seen it, before. Looking at him, you could only wonder how you have bothered trying to survive in a world that so clearly wasn’t meant for you.

“Would you consider making use of another pair of hands?”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst #yandere malleus draconia #malleus x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #yandere leona kingscholar #leona x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #yandere kalim al asim #kalim x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #vil x reader #yandere idia shroud #idia x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[gojipink]

happy ending

ஐ ft. diluc

ஐ summary. diluc just wants to take care of you when you come home with sore muscles. and whats better than a massage? a happy ending massage!

ஐ warnings. N!SFW, mdni, fem!reader, body worship, fingering (f. rec.), from behind, creampie. 3.6k words

ஐ notes. i wanted to write something for my darling love @lunargrapejuice since it was her bday (a few weeks ago) happy belated birthday, my sweet angel ♡

your boots feel like 30 pounds of iron on your feet and your body aches all over as you slowly trudge up to the front door of the mansion. this week of commissions has been especially physically demanding and the only thing on your mind right now is a warm dinner with diluc and a boiling hot bath. 

these past few weeks, you and diluc have been operating on completely different schedules, most days only allowing for a quick kiss before you leave for the city. you would be lying if you said part of your fatigue wasn't from the lack of quality time spent with your lover, fleeting kisses doing nothing but making you needily plead just one more. you miss his presence desperately and you have half a mind to take a day off just to follow him around like a lost duckling while he works around the winery, just to spend a little time with him.

Luckily, earlier this morning, diluc caught you right before you left, declaring that work has slowed a tad and that he’ll be home in the evening. As excited as you were to finally get much needed time with him, physical and mental exhaustion catches up to you throughout the day leading you trudge through your work counting down the hours until you could finally have your much needed relaxing evening with diluc.

finally entering the house, you bend over to messily unlace your boots, unceremoniously kicking them to the side. 

“y/n?” diluc calls out as he emerges from the kitchen, “there you are, i was almost going to meet you on your walk since i saw it getting dark out.” he frowns slightly when he sees you rolling your head around your shoulders trying to stretch out the knots. 

“hi ‘luc,” giving him a tired smile as you look around, “is everyone else already gone?” 

“i sent everyone home a little early for the weekend. i figured we could use a nice quiet night in, just the two of us,” coming closer to you and brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as you lean into his touch.

“it has been awhile since we’ve both been home at the same time,” you sigh as the warmth from his hands seemingly spreads throughout your body, somewhat soothing the tension you hold.

diluc leans in to press a lingering kiss to your other cheek, “dinner is still hot, go ahead and sit while i fix our plates.” 

turning your head you give him a quick kiss whispering a soft thank you before diluc gently guides you to the kitchen. after washing your hands, you drag yourself over to the dining table where you inelegantly plop yourself down in a seat and immediately lay your head down on the table. a minute later, diluc places two bowls of delicious smelling stew on the table, his hand coming up to caress your head, “let’s eat, my love, it’ll make you feel better.” 

rising back up you give him a sleepy smile thanking him for the meal before digging in. gradually, the food does fill you up with more energy and the two of you naturally settle into conversation about the day.   

while you listen to diluc talk about events that occurred while you weren’t home, you can't help but repeatedly crane your head side to side, trying to get rid of the deep ache settled in your neck and shoulder muscles, bringing a hand up to work at the knots. 

diluc pauses his story, “darling, are you feeling alright?” 

“yes! yes, i'm sorry, i swear i’m listening,” you look at him a little sheepishly, “to be honest, i might’ve pulled something earlier or maybe it's just an accumulation of things but i'm just feeling a little tight all over.” you sigh, bringing your hand down and away from your neck, “tomorrow i was going to see if there’s a masseuse in town or hmm… if not, i guess i could try liyue the next time i'm sent there.” you muse out loud.

diluc hums in agreement while he reaches a hand over to softly knead your stiff shoulder for you, frowning at how taut the muscles are, “perhaps a long bath would help, hm?” his hand slides down your arm and takes your hand bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss onto each knuckle, “let’s head upstairs, love, i'll draw one for you.”

once in your shared bedroom, diluc leaves you some privacy to strip out of your day-old clothes  in the bedroom while he prepares the bath.

fully undressed, you walk into the bathroom where diluc finishes pouring the epsom salt into the steaming water. he turns around at the sound of you coming in, immediately breathless at the sight of your perfect naked body. 

“beautiful,” he whispers, reaching out to take your hand as his soft adoring eyes stay locked on yours. you give him a grateful smile as he leads you into the bath.

“you don't want to join me?” you pout up at him while he helps ease you into the water, “not right now, i have something to do really quick but i'll be back before you're finished, i promise,” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, “you take all the time you need in here, you deserve it.” 

still slightly frowning since all you want is to spend this entire evening glued to his side, you reluctantly let go of his hand. diluc lightly chuckling at your still pouty lips, and bends over to give them a sweet kiss before departing the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

a little disappointed by diluc’s absence but nonetheless thankful for the bath, you lean your head back against the tub and sink down further into the water. 

after about 45 minutes of soaking and rinsing off, you finally emerge from the bathtub, body already feeling lighter from the bath.

wrapping a towel around yourself, you open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, surprised by the scene in front of you. the bedroom was dimly illuminated by the help of a handful of candles scattered around the room while imported lotions and oils were arranged neatly on the nightstand. diluc was standing at the foot of the bed, semi dressed down in a loose white shirt paired with his usual pants, laying a towel on top of the blankets.     

“diluc,” you gasp out, “what's all this?”

he smiles as he comes around the corner of the bed to greet you, his hands coming up to rub along your arms,

“well, you’ve been working so hard and you said you were wanting to go to a masseuse and i just thought that maybe i could give you one tonight,” he breaks eye contact for a moment, looking a little bashful, “granted, i have no massaging experience, i just thought that maybe i could help you relax a little more to take some of the soreness away.” 

“oh, ‘luc,” you breathe out, still awestruck by the effort he put into this, “this is the sweetest and most thoughtful idea, thank you.” 

“there’s no need to thank me, darling, i wanted to do this for you. here, come lay down” 

gently, diluc unwraps the towel covering your body, discarding it onto the floor, then guides you to lay down on your stomach. your arms come up to wrap around the down pillow supporting your head and your body melts under the tranquil atmosphere he created. 

standing on the side of the bed, diluc pours some of the body oil into his palms activating his pyro vision to heat up his hands. upon first contact you hum in satisfaction, his warm hands sliding gently along your back and shoulders spreading the oil. once pleased with the even coat of oil, he began kneading at both of your shoulders. thumbs digging into the sizable knots in your trap muscles then sliding up along the nape of your neck. you softly moan at the repetitive movement as he diminishes the knots, slowly working his way down your spine to focus on the muscles along your shoulder blades. 

“does it feel alright, my love?” he gently asks, not wanting to disturb the relaxing air too much.

too blissed out to even attempt words, you give him a hum of agreement, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow you currently have your face buried into. 

huffing out a small laugh, diluc continues his ministrations along your back, putting on extra pressure whenever he feels a knot, the sensation always causing you to breathe out a moan.  

if he were being completely honest, diluc has been sporting a boner since he first saw you naked in the bathtub. it's been almost two weeks since you have last been intimate together and repeatedly seeing your body be on full display for him hasn't allowed his straining dick to catch a break. 

but everyone knows diluc’s self-discipline is unmatched. tonight wasn't about him, it was entirely about you and making you feel good. he wanted to do this right and take care of his love who walked through the front door with her body aching painfully. 

while a little lost in thought, diluc’s pressure lightened up slightly causing you to whine out, “mmph…harder ‘luc,”

attention snapping back to you, diluc mentally squashed down all feelings of arousal, “y-yeah angel, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, “can i get on top? i'll have more leverage.”

seeing you nod your head against the pillow, diluc gently splits your legs apart creating enough room for him to kneel between. diluc wills himself not to take a peek at your pretty pussy as he situates himself in between your legs. he resumes his massage along the laterals of your spine going further down until he focuses on your lower back making you let out a lewd moan into the pillow. diluc takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes for a second, trying to steel his composure.

in this moment, youre past the point of self-awareness. you almost feel drunk with the way you sink into the bed, diluc taking over each one of your senses. your fuzzy mind is completely saturated with his scent, his warmth, and his overwhelming touch. your limbs feel like jelly, soft and pliant, completely laid out for him to do whatever he wants. your body instinctively reacting to his touch, a ball of pure need forming deep inside you, your pussy oozing and dripping onto the towel under you. sighing out his name, your legs naturally part wider for him, subconsciously trying to guide him to the place where you require the most attention now.

diluc shakily exhales, his cock painfully throbbing against his pants, a tiny wet spot forming as his precum seeps through his flushed tip. swallowing thickly, he moves away from your back and places a hand on each calf, kneading at the muscles. his oil-slicked hands continuously press upwards along your calves slowly inching up towards your thighs, his eyes following the trail of his hands. grabbing a handful of your thighs and spreading them to massage the muscle, his cord of reason finally snaps when he catches a peek of your drooling cunt glistening in the candlelight. 

a guttural groan escapes him and he folds over, pressing wet searing kisses along your back,

“baby,” he breathes against your spine, “you want me to take care of you there?” massaging the crease where your thighs and ass meet, causing your hole to make a small wet squelch sound each time he spreads you apart. the sound nearly makes him lose his sanity as he practically pleads with you, “let me take care of you, baby, let me make you feel good, hm? i'll go slow, i promise, i'll be gentle.” 

“y-yes please, ‘luc, please,” you whimper out spreading your legs more to make more room for him

“i've got you, sweet girl,” he quickly soothes, “you don't need to beg for me, i'm always right here.” 

he grabs one of the unused pillows by the headboard gently raising your hips to slide the pillow underneath you, positioned perfectly to allow him a clear view of your pussy. diluc uses one hand to spread one thigh apart, the other slides over to your pulsing core, his thumb dipping in between your folds, gathering the slick before tenderly smearing it along your clit. 

you gasp feeling him trace light circles on it, “d-diluc..ngh!” muffling your cries into the pillow as your arms wrap around the cushion tightly.  

leaning over again to place pacifying kisses between your shoulder blades, he whispers gently, “shhh baby, relax. just feel me.”

the hand gripping your thigh slides forward, grabbing the meat of your ass and kneading the muscles while keeping you spread open for him. diluc sitting back up to watch your little hole gush and twitch at his treatment, captivated by the way it seemingly begs him to stuff it with his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything. 

your needs always coming before his, he slides his hand away from gripping your ass to softly rub at your entrance before sinking middle two fingers down to his knuckle, other thumb still toying at your clit. your moans ringing through the room as your head lifts up in surprise from his intrusion but you quickly bury your face into the pillow once more when he begins to slowly thrust in and out, his fingers gently massaging your fluttering walls.

he really tried to stay at a slow pace. really wanted to take his time with you, bring you gentle waves of mind melting pleasure rather than earth-shattering orgasms. wanted to maintain the tranquil air in order to provide you with the kind of relaxation you deserve. but both of you are pent up with sexual need due to the previous lack of contact and you’re certain that diluc could use a feather on your clit and your mind would still split in two. besides, how could he say no when his perfect girl sobs broken cries of m-more! mmph! while your hips lift up trying to coax him into going faster and deeper. 

eyes transfixed on your twitchy cunt, lips parted enraptured at the sight, diluc gives your clit a heavier rub while pairing it with a hook of his fingers, abusing that special gummy spot. 

“mmh!! dilu-aah!!” you attempt to warn him, your pussy sucking his fingers in locking them in a vice grip 

“cum, angel. i'm here, i’ve got you.”   

his soothing words of encouragement wash over you like a wave and the coil nestled deep in your tummy snaps, white hot pleasure ripping its way through you. your body surges forward virtually running away from him but diluc follows you, not letting up for a second trying to prolong your high until your hips twitch and buck away from overstimulation. 

gently pulling his fingers away, he slides his hand across your thighs, ass, and sides. massaging at your skin all while leaning over to press loving kisses down your spine, gently guiding you back down from your orgasm. 

diluc’s still desperately trying to ignore the near painful throbs of his suffocating cock, still locked away in his pants. your soft skin glowing radiantly in the candlelight, your soft gasps and breathy moans, the way you gushed and creamed around his fingers- it was all becoming too much for him to bear. crystal clear mind now hazy with only thoughts of you and being inside you.

ever the gentleman, despite the lewd images and desires that flash through his mind’s eye, he 

still prioritizes you. readjusting his position, he stretches his body over your back, his lower half resting lightly on your ass. his forearm coming to rest by your head as he leans his weight against it, his face appearing in front of yours.

“how do you feel, my love?” he checks in on you while his other hand comes up to brush the hair out of your face. 

you peek up at him through blissed out eyes, “thank you, baby. thank you for taking care of me.” you whisper to him. 

he gives you a warm smile, his eyes filled with so much love and adoration for you it could bring you to tears. 

“thank you for allowing me to take care of you,” he replies as he leans in to kiss your lips. 

mind swimming in a post-high fog, you're desperate to feel more of him. the feeling of his lips softly pressed against yours makes you dizzy with need as you reach a hand to grasp at his shirt, tugging him towards you. gentle, slow kisses quickly turn urgent as tongues poke out and teeth teasingly bites the other’s lip. 

breathlessly seeking out for more of him you push your hips back, dragging your bare pussy against the bulge of his pants. “want you, ‘luc. need you.” you whimper against his parted lips. his pupils are blown wide with desperation, lips slightly swollen from biting at them to keep his urges at bay, cheeks flushed pink- diluc’s thankful for the dim lighting because he knows he looks like a fucked out wreck.

“i know, darling, me too,” he thickly rasps out. 

kissing your lips once more, he rises up and resumes back to his original position of kneeling between your legs. his hands quickly undo the button and zipper, tugging his pants just low enough for his heavy cock to spring out. the motion causing his leaky tip to brush against your soaking pussy, making both of you gasp at the sensation. 

feeling a little impatient, you rock your hips back, capturing his cock between his abs and your slopping pussy.   

“a-aah,” diluc groans at the feeling of your perfect cunt rubbing on him.

“i-i got it, baby ugh-” placing both hands on your hips, he stills your hips making you whine at the loss of contact.

“ill do it all for you, love, no need to rush, im here” 

diluc swallows thickly before lining up his swollen tip to your twitchy entrance.

sliding in torturously slow, his pace forces you to feel every ridge and curve of his thick cock while he feels every inch of your impossibly tight gummy walls.

finally bottoming out, tip kissing your cervix and feeling fuller than ever, you bury your face back into the pillow. diluc’s mind is reeling from the vice grip your pussy has on his hard cock, feeling like it's trying to break it in half. giving a shallow experimental thrust proves to be all a little too much for diluc. the feeling of his sensitive cock dragging through your sticky walls forces him to stop all movement, mere seconds away from cumming prematurely.

“f-fuck!” he chokes out a rare curse as he squeezes his eyes shut, teeth grinding together. 

you whine out at the lack of movement, desperate for any sort of friction causing your body to involuntarily shift to feel anything.  

hissing at your movement, diluc’s hands grip your hips tightly, “h-hold on, darling, just-just give me a second-mmh”

you turn your face away from the pillow to gulp down some fresh air, trying to tame your mind into thinking about anything else other than the slight burn of being stretched out.

after a few more moments, diluc begins to thrust again. this time pulling out a little bit more before shoving his cock guts deep.

“mmph-! ‘luc!” you cry out

the pillow angles your hips up perfectly, allowing his cock to nudge that little spot with deadly accuracy with every thrust. he knows neither of you can last very long, his mind reeling at the feeling of your pussy trying to swallow him whole. 

“ha-ah-! harder, baby, mmph-! please! need it,” you beg, lifting your head up from your pillow creating a deeper arch in your back. 

grunts punctuate each one of his thrusts as he fucks you like a feral man, something that only happens when his desperation for you completely clouds his mind.  

feeling your gushy walls pulse and clench around him, diluc knows your moments away from cumming.

“c-clo..ngh-! m’close!” you try to warn him as the familiar flames of pleasure lick along your spinal cord. 

“i know, baby, i know” diluc’s hand slides away from your hips, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit making you cry out.

“cum, pretty girl, i've got you, need you to cum” he pants out, his hips stuttering signaling his own impending orgasm.

two more harsh circles on your clit and youre having to bury your head into the pillow once more to muffle out the scream diluc pulls from you. 

feeling your pussy clench down on his throbbing dick he couldn't help but follow you over the edge. a low throaty moan is ripped from him as he shoots white ropes deep into your twitching hole, his body subconsciously thrusting his cum further into your womb.

slumping over, he rests his forehead on your back as both of you try to catch your breath, half-hard cock still plugged inside you making sure your pussy doesnt leak a single drop.

you hum out a purr of content, fucked out pussy still twitching around him from the aftershocks.

“thank you, mmh, needed that so much, needed you so much.”

lifting his head up from his resting spot on your back, he stretches up his body to smear lazy kisses on the tops of your shoulders.

“i know, my love. words cannot describe the ache that came from yearning for you.”

you hum in agreement, sighing dreamily as diluc continues to lay worshiping kisses along every inch of skin he can reach. 

“y’know, you're a very good masseuse. should do a side business in it or something,” you tease.

huffing out a laugh diluc playfully nips at your skin, “my massage parlor is open to you and you only, darling. you say the word and ill set up shop for you anywhere.” 

#WHEW #goji's.thots˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #diluc #diluc x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie 

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank. 

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.” 

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room. 

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too. 

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air. 

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it. 

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll.��

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair. 

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive. 

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.  

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath. 

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know–“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.  

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was. 

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched. 

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper. 

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his. 

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head. 

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.  

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run. 

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.” 

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.  

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation. 

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!" 

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled. 

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge. 

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area. 

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage. 

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?" 

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow. 

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both. 

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent. 

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!” 

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction. 

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal. 

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything! 

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded. 

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything. 

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.  

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental. 

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult. 

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

#no because i can't believe i actually gone through with this #miles morales imagine #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff

[simp-for-the-batfam]

It is a rare day when the Batfamily has a declared day and night off (usually instituted by Alfred when everyone is injured). They decided to spend the day watching a movie together. Only, Bruce is fed up with the Batkids spending too much time arguing over what movie they should watch and turns it to a random channel that happened to be playing Phineas and Ferb. He states that 'if you act like children, you watch childish things'. Little did Bruce know how much of a pain it would cause him.

First off, Damian has never seen the show, but now that he has, the OWCA agents, especially Agent P, are his favorites. He is already compiling a list of measurements as to give Alfred to make custom fedoras for Titus, Alfred the Cat, Batcow, and any other pet the Wayne's own. Alfred already has the sewing machine out. Damian even commissioned one for Hailey that Dick can't wait to put on her. And on a completely unrelated note, an animal smuggling ring that Damian busted last week happened to have an abused platypus that Damian has now decided would be better fit in the Wayne Manner than taken care of in some wildlife preserve.

Dick remembers trying to recreate do everything Phineas and Ferb's summer as a kid, and is now determined to do it again. While everyone is distracted by the show, he calling is order and favors, determined to make things and contacting anyone who could help. He already has the Teen Titans on his side. He even ordered roller coaster parts that should come tomorrow and who knows what else. While he might not be able to personally build everything, he knows people who could. But for some reason, the parts never arrive at the manor.

Jason is hardcore identifying with Candace. While he is not the oldest, he knows what it is like to have the perfect sibling that never gets caught for their wrongdoing (*cough*cough* Dick). He already had to go through Dick's crazy summer plans before when he was Robin, trying to stop Dick from getting himself killed, and he doesn't want to do it again. Throughout the show, he is trying to bust Dick whenever he leaves to make a suspicious phone call, but Dick always says he is ordering takeout. Jason is pulling his hair out wondering how come no one has questioned the amount of times Dick has left to order food and how none of it has arrived yet. When he gets a chance, he sings E.V.I.L. B.O.Y.Z. directed toward Dick, who sits up front looking completely innocent.

The minute Phineas and Ferb is mentioned, Stephanie quicky fled the room only to roll back in full Duckie Momo apparel. She has on a Duckie Momo onesie, Duckie Momo slippers, and Duckie Momo glasses. In fact, the whole floor has become a Duckie Momo nest, complet with blankets and pillows. She even had a matching onesie for Cass. She also came in knowing all of the songs word for word and had so much fun recreating the "Squirrels in my pants" dance.

When Cass isn't in the Duckie Momo nest with Steph, cuddling a Duckie Momo plushie, she is copying fight scenes from the show. It started off as Steph asking if she could do a move Agent P did, only for her to recreate the whole scene. Now everyone is wanting Cass to copy any of the animals fighting moves, but she declined until she also got a fedora. Damian quickly got her one and declared her an honorary OWCA Agent. Dick tried to join in, but failed. Jason about died laughing about how a platypus could beat Dick in a fight, only for Damian to yell, "Agent P is a worthy opponent, Todd!" with Cass nodding in agreement. Either way, Dick has mainly been pouting ever since.

Tim has been up for about a week before he got dragged into family time. Now, he is just staring numbly at the TV, saying 'mood' whenever Doofenshmirtz talks about his awful childhood backstories (like the one where his parents didn't show up for his birth), giving Bruce an aneurysm each time. Tim is already on the edge, and Bruce just hopes he doesn't gain any motivation to copy Doof's 'take over the Tri-state area' schemes. Bruce especially worries whenever Tim spots a machine and says 'I could build that'.

Unbeknownst to Bruce, Barbara already has the schematics for all of Doof's machines as well as Phineas and Ferb's. What started as a bored interest during summer as a child grew over time, especially with all resources she gained by being Batgirl and Oracle. The information on both are kept in separate secret heavily protected files to keep Tim away from Doof's and Dick away from Phineas and Ferb's. She even has a warning system in place if either of them get close to making one of the machines, either on accident or on purpose, and diverts them away from completing it. The system also includes orders to return any shipments made solely for the purpose of recreating a machine and deleting any records of the order in the first place (hence why Dick's shipment never came). But Babs is content with letting Bruce worry and continues to watch the show with a Duckie Momo blanket spread over her lap (courtesy of Steph).

Since Duke was still working day shift (he wasn't as injured as the others and wanted to flee before there was bloodshed over choosing the movie), he comes back home and happens to conveniently be listening to a playlist of Phineas and Ferb's greatest hits. Upon seeing everyone, Duke takes an earbud out and asks, "Whatcha doin'?" The only answer he got was Steph throwing another Duckie Momo onesie in his face.

An hour later, Jason and Steph are singing BUSTED on top of a table, Jason as a warning to Dick and Steph just for the heck of it. Meanwhile, Cass and Duke acts as Duckie Momo backup dancers with full choreography. Dick wanted to join in as well, but Jason forced him to sit down and watch, hoping the message will sink through, but Dick thinks it is because they don't like his dancing so now he is pouting again. Tim is waving his cellphone light as if this is the most meaningful part of the night, while Damian is about to wrestle the fedora onto Alfred the Cat, as the cat keeps batting it away. All the while, Babs is recording everything.

Bruce is reminded that this is why you should never watch daytime television and turns the channel, despite the cries of anguish. Only to be horrified when Alfred reminds him and the children that show is can be viewed on Disney + and can be streamed at anytime. He runs back to his room as the beginning notes to the intro fill the air and all his children sing along.

#batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #jason todd #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #tim drake #robin #batgirl #nightwing #spoiler #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #phineas and ferb #bat family #batfam shenanigans #batsiblings #batfamily #cassandra and stephanie #dick and jason

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Roses for the ones left behind.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Daryl gets taken by the Saviors. Reader finds out she's pregnant but things don’t go as they’re supposed to go and Daryl isn’t there to help her through it.

TAGS: pregnancy, childbirth, some angst with a happy ending.

They were gone.

Your group was left there in that clearing with two dead and one taken.

You had to be physically dragged ack to your shared home in Alexandria, no strength left to even fight back and passing out on the way home.

Rosita had taken up the role of your caretaker with you isolating yourself so bad it had everyone worried if they didn’t get Rosita’s timely updates on you.

“She’s still avoiding anything that reminds her of him. Says it’s making her sick.” Rick was already busy enough pleasing Negan and his gang as well as planning how to get his brother back, he didn’t have the mental capacity to also deal with one of his other best trained hunters being out of commission. But he was going to give you time. You and Daryl were practically joined at the hip. In the last two months even quite literally, to everyone’s surprise.

You were worried sick.

Physically sick. Your stomach emptying itself every time you woke up after passing out throughout the day. Your mind feeding you images of your partner being tortured, chained up in a cell every time you closed your eyes. Nightmares haunted you every single night to a point where you didn’t even want to sleep anymore. Rick had tried to talk to you about coming outside, getting some air but the second he saw you sprint to the bathroom to throw up he agreed to leave you alone for a while, leaving a walkie with you in case you needed help with anything.

Meanwhile Rosita kept coming over, Denise too after the third week of you locking yourself away and finally admitting to Rosita on her previous visit that you weren’t just sick due to the stress and worries.

You were barely eating, stuff you used to love now made you puke and you were quickly growing out of your jeans and opting for sweats with stretching waistbands. Your bras started to get really uncomfortable too.

You felt the anxiety kick in as the two women sat across from you, waiting to see your now still hidden bump that had started to show. Your fingers were tightly wrapped around the hem of the oversized flannel you had been living in for the last weeks.

With a deep breath you lifted the fabric layers up to the bottom of your breasts and giving the women a good look.

"My guess would be three, maybe four months." Denise held her finger between two ladies in her medical book and Rosita agreed, although with a confused look on her face. "That's impossible." Your answer was clear as day, no mistakes to be made out of it. "We hadn't slept together before two months ago.." Your hands lowered back to rest in your lap, your gaze down and away from theirs.

Denise wanted a better look and a second opinion so she got you to stand up straight and turned to the side to match the images in her book. Holding it up next to you to compare again.

"Still looks like three to four months, sweetheart. Maybe it's twins." She took a quick look through the pages of her book but didn't find any material to compare to.

The idea of twins was even more horrifying than finding out you were having a baby to begin with. There was no way you were going to be able to raise a baby on your own, let alone two of them.

You let the conversation die down for now. You needed to focus on staying calm and keeping food in your body. Going outside was still out of the question because of the constant stress everyone else was also in due to the Saviors’ unannounced visits and crazy demands.

———

Daryl had managed to escape and get into Hilltop without being discovered and was currently in hiding there with no option to contact the other safe zones. It was good to see Maggie walking around again after how he had last seen her at the lineup before he was taken.

“What d’ya mean we got no contact with the others?” He practically snarled in Jesus’ face, who was quickly shoved aside by Maggie. She snapped back at Daryl like only she could. “Now calm the hell down before you get your ass kicked out of this place.” It came out in a hiss that matched Daryl’s anger and had him back down quickly.

“Ya know we gotta radio Alexandria. Let ‘em know I’m alright.” The idea of you being all alone, not knowing if he was alright or not had his mind howling to a point of his fear showing in the last way he wanted. “If we don’t sit this one out and make even one small wrong move they’ll tear down all the safe zones so all you’re gonna do is hide when we say so.” All their time spent together had taught Maggie how to keep Daryl from completely losing it and keep his animalistic side under control. Although Carol was still the expert on it, she wasn’t here so this had to work or they’d both be in deep shit.

As the sound of vehicles approached Maggie shot into action and shoved Daryl down a flight of stairs into a small basement. “Fake wall. Hide until I come and get you.” She shoved the wall back and left to welcome the unwanted guests.

Daryl was stuck now. Alone in the dark, only a small bit of sunlight peeking through cracks of the wall and door. That growling voice in his head now having all that silence to fill with doubts and worst case scenarios. Daryl knew the voice only speaks in ways to get what it wants, and all it wants is to be with you. All it wants is an amplified version of what Daryl wants and all he wants is to see you. Hear your voice over the radio and tell you he’s alright.

‘She’s probably moved on already. Found comfort in that snobby son of Deanna’s.’ His mind tried to make him let his guard down but he wasn’t gonna let that happen. ‘You know we can easily overpower them, run back to her and make it back without a scratch.’ Fighting against the urges to break out and find you took a lot from him and he hadn’t even heard the cellar door open and the wall pull back until Maggie put a hand on this crouched form and called out his name again to which he jumped up with a snarl, ready to attack until he saw who it was.

“Shit m’sorry.” His apology was quickly accepted and the both of them discussed the best way to keep Daryl occupied until he was able to go back to Alexandria again.

———

You had spent your time with lots of visits from Rosita, Denise and Gabriel sometimes as well with books on motherhood. Sadly none of those books taught you why you looked almost full term at two and a half months. You spent most of your days on the couch with the curtains drawn.

Denise and Rosita still visited you every day to make sure you ate. The Saviors had gotten worse and worse, so your meals had gotten smaller too leaving you extra tired all the time.

You hated this. Every second of it.

The sickness, why you were growing so fast, the loneliness. Daryl not being here with you, not even knowing he's gonna be a father. You not knowing if your child will even have a father..

All you knew was your baby had a steady heartbeat, so that's what you had to focus on. You figured since you looked almost full term you'd better start reading up on how to prepare for the day the baby would show, even if it was still months away. Anything to keep you distracted from the thoughts of dead boyfriends and babies.

More days passed and your surroundings got more and more hectic with preparation for an attack on the Saviors. You were brought a large package of food, care items and a whole barrage of apologies for having to leave you behind like this. A walkie was among the gifted items in case of emergencies. You didn't get along with any of the women staying within the walls and none of them was willing to watch over you. At first they were kind to you, feeling they could have you become one of them like Carol had. But now they only found it selfish to have a child with the threat of the Saviors always on your doorstep and you'd have to sit this one out on your own. They had dropped you like it was nothing.

It also didn't help that Daryl was your partner. They had something against his redneck biker looks and didn't understand his love for the woods and outside world. On top of that they still believe you ruined yourself by being with someone so much older.

The convoy of plated cars left.

You heard them leaving through the gate from your living room and soon the noises all died down and you were alone. Well, not exactly alone. Your little one had been kicking you all morning and left you with no chance of falling back asleep. You thought of your support girls and got up for some breakfast. Waddling through the room while the baby was so active proved to be a challenge, being thrown off balance with every kick whenever you tried to take a step.

With only a plate and cup set down on the counter and a hand on the fridge door you were struck with something that definitely wasn't a kick. You heaved through the spasm and went on with breakfast. You needed some food in your system but your body wasn't having any of it. Another stabbing sensation hit quickly after and you begged whoever listened to let it die down until your people came back.

Clearly, whoever listened wasn't on your side as only what felt like seconds later your water broke.

Dropping down to your knees in pain and clutching your stomach you cried as you felt it contract in your grasp.

Hesitantly you felt between your legs and felt you had no time left to figure out a plan or call for help on your walkie that you had left on your bed last night when you came down to pee. The what you thought was kicking had started then and you had no strength to pull yourself up the stairs again and opted for the couch where you eventually passed out again.

---

"You did what?!" Carol wasn't having any of it. Even with the walkie they left you she couldn't deal with them leaving you alone in Alexandria. "I'm heading back for her. You should be ashamed of yourselves." She took one of the cars with the least armor and took off in the direction of the safe zone.

At the gates she was let inside despite the confusion of the guards and made a beeline to your house which was luckily one of the closest ones.

Inside on the kitchen floor you were fighting through the urge to push out the baby with the limited strength you had. On your knees, grasping at the edge of the counter you growled through every contraction, feeling the baby move further down with every push. You couldn't even reach down to feel how far you were. If you let go with even one hand you'd lose balance and you weren't gonna risk falling over.

With all your might you pushed through the next one for as long as your body let you. The burn becoming almost too much until with a pop and another gush of fluids you felt the head come out.

As you gave yourself a second to breathe you were startled by the front door opening. At the sight of Carol walking through he door you broke down. Tears streaming down your face, snot-nosed, ugly crying sobs took over your entire body as you bawled your eyes out, breathing uneven and still clinging to the counter.

“Oh crap. Sweetheart are you alright?” Carol rushed over to your side and gave you a quick once over, seeing your child halfway out already and suddenly very worried how you’d respond once you saw it.

“Come on, dear. Hold on to me.”she took your hands and hooked them on her shoulders. You barely got time to form an answer as yet another contraction hit and you screamed into Carol’s shoulder as her hands moved down to check on the baby. When you calmed down again she took the opportunity to talk about the issue she spotted as soon as she walked in. “Hey,” she started, taking your chin to lift up your gaze to look at her. “Have you and Daryl ever had a ..serious talk about him before you started sleeping together. In case you ever had kids?” She needed to address this carefully to not scare you too much if you in fact didn’t know. You gave her a confusing look and shook your head before bearing down with no success. You were quickly running out of energy and whined out your concern to your friend. Carol carefully helped you maneuver yourself to sit against the cabinets. “Dear, there’s something you should know..” it had to be now, before your pup was fully out and she’d have to hand it to you without you even knowing the truth. She didn’t want you to— “gah- fuck!” You cried out, this new position wasn’t doing you any better than the previous one as you clamped you hands around your thighs and pushed with every last bit of energy you had. Carol’s overthinking got the best of her and lost the time to talk to you. Her hands moved quickly to help the pup’s shoulders dislodge and slowly pull to get it fully out.

Your body slumped back against the cabinets. Breathing heavy you looked at your friend who was still holding your baby close to the floor, an apologetic look in her eyes as she faced you. “Look, I’m not gonna blame Daryl for not talking to you before, you were clearly not planning to have kids soon but I need you to not freak out. Or hate him or your child, I’m just not sure how to say this without sounding like a crazy person..”

You sighed and raised your hands to hold your child and with a hesitant breath she lifted the pup into view and held her out to you with a soft “I’m sorry”.

Eyes wide you froze for a moment. You stared at the fur covered newborn. A short, stubby snout at the centre of her face and a thin, short tail dangling from her spine. Her legs were bent like an animal’s and her ears twitched at the soft sniffles that left you. At the initial shock you had pulled back your hands but now delicately reached under her to hold her against your chest. You looked at Carol with tears again rolling down your face. “Yeah,” you agreed to her previous statement. “He should have told me this.” Looking down at the large wolf child in your arms you softly stroked her fur. “But she’s his and she’s healthy. That’s all that matters, right?”

Seeing you weren’t going to turn down your pup, Carol sat up and looked around searching for something. “Where’s that walkie Rosita gave you?” She called from the living room.

“Upstairs on the bed. Forgot it last night.” Admitting your mistake made you cringe, but knowing it was all good now made it all good gain.

Carol called over that she was gonna grab it and radio the other end about you and check up on their situation. When she came back she updated you on their success and about Daryl being okay and coming home after they got all their wounded looked after.

———

The low rumble of a motorcycle caught your ear and a smile appeared on your tired face. Getting up was currently out of the question as you were currently occupied with feeding your very hungry pup who’s little murmurs let you know she was enjoying herself.

You wanted with all your might jump up to run into his arms but feeding the little one had priority right now. The two of you hadn’t talked over the walkie and you had no ida if someone had updated him yet on your whole ordeal of these last three months.

Not much longer after the font door opened and Carol walked in, laughing about something. Your pup started squirming in your arms and a second later Daryl rounded the corner into the living room. His gaze immediately landing on the bundle of fur in your arms. Two long strides was all it took for him to be on his knees in front of you, a hand on your cheek and the other reaching for his pup before quickly stopping to look over and silently ask for permission. He hadn’t said a word yet and he didn’t want to assume everything was alright only because you hadn’t immediately cursed him out the second he stepped into the room.

“Go ahead.” It was said so quietly that you barely heard it yourself but you were afraid to speak any louder because you really didn’t want to cry again. The view in front of you was anything you could have ever wished for. Your partner’s hand softly stroking the fur on your daughter who was still resting against your chest. You could feel the love radiating off him, the warmth he’d shared with you ever since you admitted your feelings was now being oh so softly shared with your child as well.

Daryl looked up at you, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Have ya given her a name?” She wasn’t even a day old yet but after sitting with Carol those first hours and just, talking, about all her stories with Daryl before you met the group had you find the perfect name for her.

“I do. Carol told me this story about when she lost hr daughter you brought her a rose to cheer her up.” You looked from him back to the pup who had her little paw wrapped around your finger. “When the Saviors took you, you had unknowingly left me a child. Rose Dixon.” Sharing her name out loud for the first time felt so surreal. You hadn’t even shared it with Carol yet, wanting Daryl to be the first one to hear her name.

Carol had respectfully stayed back a bit and lingered at the entrance to overlook her best friend meeting his child. The smile on her face only grew as you shared the inspiration for your daughter’s name and nodded a silent appreciation your way before making her way into your kitchen to take care of some tasks that were left abandoned because of Rose.

“Yer not scared or mad, with Rose being the way she is.” It wasn’t really a question but more an observation. There wasn’t a single scent on you that indicated fear or anger. All he sensed was love and adoration, and sweat, but what else did he expect after having a pup this big. “I knew something was up when I looked close to full term at two and a half months.” You let out a soft laugh as you played with Rose’s paw. “I’ll admit I was shocked and confused when Carol first handed her to me, but remembering she’s yours was enough reason to love her.”

“Ya mean ‘ours’.” Daryl quickly corrected. “Ya did most of the work and ya did amazing if I gotta believe Carol’s word.” He got up to sit down next to you on the couch to accept Rose into his arms. “She’s beautiful.” A simple statement that he felt was right for this situation but it had your aura quickly drop into something more negative. He looked aside to see your gaze turned down and arms hugging yourself in what looked like shame.

“I’m worried about what the others are gonna say about her.” You admitted the one fear you had since you first saw her. There was no doubt that you and Daryl, Carol, and their whole group would love her without a second thought. But the Alexandrians were the ones that scared you more than anything.

“Bun, can ya look at me for a sec.” The hand not currently supporting your child reached up to turn your gaze towards him. You looked his on the eyes, now glowing bright in their sockets and fangs on display for you to finally see. “She’s ours.” A clawed finger touches your nose softly. “And she’s healthy.” He drags the claw slowly down to your chin and pulls you closer to him, now only an inch or so away from his face. “Tha’s all tha’ matters, right?” With that he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

Your family was all that mattered.

A/N: I keep coming up with new ways to have reader learn about Daryl's werewolf secret and this one was the most stressfull one. Should I do more?

Divider by @cafekitsune

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd au #the walking dead #daryl dixon #werewolf #pregnancy #childbirth #twd daryl

[goatpaste]

Hai, mutuals have my actin up getting obsessive brain over Pillar Fam Au again and their all over my brain like ANTS

So I wanted to redo the art on the pillar fam playlist and doodle some stuff for my fav songs on the playlist

just thinking about them thinking about them thinking about them and running around and biting

every few weeks I just remember this AU is everything to me good lurd

[Commission Prices][Etsy][Buy me a Kofi]

also wanted to talk about some thoughts on the songs of the playlist just whatever, under the cut

Where Evil Grows by The Poppy Family: this one I drew for, but I heavily think of it over Joseph and Wamuu's first meeting where despite the rough first meeting, theres that spark of interest in on another. Despite unexplainable need to get close to one another, especially Joseph to Wham.

Blood in the Wine by AURORA: mostly a song I put on there for Wham, its a Wham heavy song and makes me think generally of pillar fam but also of Wham and his relationship to his pillar men family and kars. His Loyalty and devotion to the man who is his father, but ultimately having these different goals and feelings.

Electric Love by BORNS: Honestly mostly just a fun feel good song I felt had some good vibes to Pillar fam, love a good lightning motif for Joseph.

Kiss her you fool by Kids that Fly: First kiss scene, 1000% Joseph with a million thoughts about how he's trying to get out of dying, or even killing but also quickly realizing he might just be in love with this powerful warrior and that Wham just might like him back, and to make a leap of fate with a kiss.

Talk to Much COIN: Another song that fit the bill for Pillar Fam especially of a Joseph angle for suuuure

High on Humans by Oh Wonder: I think this is pretty straight forward for the wham angle of this relationship, especially when Suzi starts being in the mix and he's realizing he's soft for two humans who he should be seeing as a threat to Kar's mission. but instead his brain if fuzzy and soft around them

The Sex has Made me Stupid by Robots in Disguise: also pretty straight forward, they were going at it like rabbits because i take Wham for a guy who fucks his enemies as an equal partner for him, fighting it like gay sex to him but so is gay sex lol. Also this song is such so extremely british its just a bit of a too fitting not to include

Dirty imbecile by The Happy Fits: Kinda vauge take on Joseph, i get big joseph vibes in this song and fitting to my minds touchings of his character and relationship to family and lack there of

Step With me by MIKA: its the vibes, the specific lyrics just feel so right, the slow set by set calculations of getting close to someone like Wham in their specific situation. Both in trying to work every angle to get everyone out alive, but also dealing with big feelings for a big man who may kill him. One step at a time, just a few steps away from you. I especially take this song overlay to the idea of the height of Pillar Fam when the month is almost up and joseph's one like asking of truce between him and wham, but wham choosing to stay to his word and to kars and leaving Joseph, but stubborn Joseph not giving up quite yet.

Necessary Evil by Unknown Mortal Orchestra: i think this in a way feels a lot like similar lyrical vibes to Where Evil Grows. But bit on the horny side lol, two crazy kids defying the odds, dealing with how they feel, messy messy feelings while they nearly kill each other in a gladiatorial fight on chariots around a roaring fire.

I wont hurt you by the West Coast Pop Art Experience: THIS SONG OUHGH this is one of the big ones on the playlist to me, its soo ouch. Song that 100% in my head links to the end of the Chariot fight. Joseph and Wham have dealt out all their cards, every trick in the book to live or win. All but their final trump card, all or nothing, put it all on the line and die winning. Wham lost of sight, arms and burning a hole into his own chest. Joseph with caesars headband and the lighter fluid... But he can't do it. instead opting to drop his weapons and his guards, i wont hurt you, Yelled over the intense slicing winds as they grow nearer. Joseph's pleading one more time for Wham to stop to not kill Joseph, but more importantly, himself. That Kars wouldnt want this, Suzi wouldnt want this and Joseph wouldnt want this. He would rather lay down and accept defeat and death than be the one to remove Wham from the world. its then, Wham in his biggest moment of vulnerability stops, words reaching him. Falling to his knees and embracing Joseph in a messy bloody puddle in all the heavy silence under the blazing fire. I wont hurt you.

m'Lover by Kishi Bashi: themes of unlikely lovers? well dont mind if i do for my pillar fam playlist. Picking up right after the last one, things are finally looking right, defying the destiny that they were meant to hurt and kill each other in that pit that night instead promising themselves to each other. two loves in the night finding each other in the most unlikely way

Affection Taku Iwasaki: Its a jojo song, and it makes me sad weepy, its soft its perfect for this vibe.

Bizzare Love Triangle by New Order: I think mostly on here for the general title and 'love triangle' idea. Suzi and her two boys, their Bizzare Love Triangle

From Me, the Moon by Lav and Dark Moon by Bonnie Guitar: putting these together as their both meant to be for the same idea, Wham watching his human partners grow old. His family even with his pillar man genetics, growing older. The idea they will one day leave him behind. This reality will obviously never come as they world ends in p6. But its a lingering idea, a soft sad, but approachable topic to think about for Wham. Couldn't not include it in a playlist meant to encapsulate them and their life start to finish. Wham will be sad, but happily live out his humans long lives. As long as they'll have him.

Affection Taku Iwasaki: it was the final track of P2, just like Affection, sweet and good, how could i not make it the final track on this playlist.

#pillar fam #battle tendency #jojo #jjba #wamuu #joseph joestar #suzi q

[sombrashe]

i love ur blog!! it would be super cool if u did a norm x reader but the reader is like a wastelander/from the wastelands or something like that!!

content fluff, first kiss :3, both reader and norm are weird little things he's just more sexually inclined, gn!reader, chubby!reader

note(s) thank you so much for the kind words ;-; i hope you enjoy this !!

It's been three weeks since you joined the rag-tag group. Two vault dwellers, a ghoul, an ex-BOS member, and a wasterlander. Sounds like the beginning to one of The Ghoul's bad jokes. He calls them dad jokes but since over half of you didn't have a dad the idea was lost to the sand. Plopping down you go through your nearly empty pack.

"I think me and The Ghoul should go on a supply run."

Your voice rose to speak over the horrid wind pelting small clouds of sand into the side of the burnt-out husk of a house. Everyone looks you over and immediately starts speaking over each other to argue about the dangers of leaving into the storm. Raising a hand you let out a short shout to gain attention which works wonders.

"I've lived in this desert all my life I know how to keep sand away from my skin, I'll be fine. The Ghoul is pretty much unkillable. We need food. My pack is empty."

You try to sound reasonable. It's been days of your group being holed up in this shithole and honestly, you wanted out of there even for a little. As close as you have grown to each member of the group you barely have any time to yourself anymore.

"What if you get lost?"

"It's a small neighborhood, I'll be fine. I promise."

"You can't promise that and you know it."

Norm's voice chastises you despite his face hiding his true concern. You knew he just wanted what was best for you. Him being the one person you opened up to the most. His easygoing attitude and similar resting face made it nice to tell him about any worries. And you had a lot especially living on the surface. Something he was slowly becoming accustomed to.

"Why not take one of us instead?"

Lucy speaks up. Her eyes search your face, hoping you'll change your mind.

"The only one I would be willing to take is Max, but he's out of commission."

You point to his leg which sits propped on a toppled bookshelf. Trying to save Lucy from a radscorpion cost him a rolled ankle.

"The Ghoul is no-nonsense, he'll get us in and out, and if he doesn't... I'm sure youse guys can win a 4 v 1."

You give a wide smile showing them that you mean what you say. You just wanted to get this over with. You've been thinking about this for hours now. Watching as your already small assortment of supplies dwindled.

"Please, just let us go."

"Don't I get a say in this sweetheart?"

"No. You want 'ta find their dad as much as the rest of us. Not me, I'm here for all the warm company."

You roll your eyes and sling your pack over your shoulder. Norm stands just as quick nearly shoving you over in the process. You steady yourself against his bicep. Only for a second before you yank your hand back as a warm heat burns your cheeks. You walk around the room collecting anything you might need. An extra pair of pants wrap around your face. Nice and snug according to Lucy. Making eye contact with Norm you feel the need to look away. His eyes are so expressive and they're begging you to stay. You go to give him an awkward hug hoping to make the feeling in your stomach go away. He doesn't bite and gently untangles the fabric from around your jaw. Your goggles skew your peripheral but you know everyone is staring. You can't hear the mumbling as he leans forward. You can't even hear the wind whipping broken glass into the side of your hideout. You struggle to hear anything over the roaring of blood rushing to flood your head. Especially when his lips connect with yours. You lived a hard life and went through unimaginable pain, but this kiss, even for a moment, made you forget everything and everyone. His lips were so soft a stark contrast to the sharp broken skin of your own. Your hands lay limp at your side as you attempt to kiss back. This was all quite foreign to you but you wanted to make it work. Needed to make it work. Deep down.

"Come back to us. To me, please." He whispers directly against your lips.

Reaching up he ignores Lucy's inquisitive eyes as he gathers the untangled mess of denim. Slowly he affixes it back together and into a tight shield against the elements. He gives your cheek one quick squeeze through the thick layer. You thank the cover because you couldn't stand letting everyone see your grin even if Norm picked up on your eyes crinkling. Turning around you opt to look at the floor as you walk over to the strong oak door. Luckily the wood stayed mostly strong for these past 200-odd years with only a corner piece missing. Flinging the door open you call back to The Ghoul to hurry up as you disappear into the screaming darkness.

#fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #sombrashe writes

[kamisatomay018]

My Saviour: Part 4

Warnings: mention of emotionally abusive parents, angst with comfort, fluff

Time to see protective Ayato! Finally lol. This part will be very lengthy!

It had been 2 months since the news of Kamisato Ayato courting Hiragi Y/N spread all across Inazuma. Everyone was beyond excited, and the excitement of their courtship hadn’t died down even now. After everything that occurred in Inazuma, a wedding of this magnitude was welcomed with open arms. These 2 months were perhaps the happiest days of your entire life. Ayato treated you like a princess, he observed every little thing about you, remembered your likes and dislikes and showered you with presents. He would come to visit you often in Ritou, for your parents didn’t allow you to leave the island. No matter, as long as he was with you, no one else in Teyvat was on your mind. Your bond had grown stronger, and you knew you were falling for him. He could make you smile so effortlessly, giving you cheeky compliments, trying out new and weird Dango milk flavours together and playing chess had become core memories with you. He came to visit you almost every day for the first month, but then his work kept him busy, due to which he couldn’t come to see you that often.

That does not mean he forgot about you though. No, you were always on his mind, invading his thoughts, taking over his dreams and his heart. He would send hand written letters and gifts to you in Ritou through the hands of his most trusted housekeeper, Thoma. Ayaka also came to visit you a lot, she was the happiest person in inazuma when you two agreed to get married. Her best friend and her brother getting married was the best thing that could ever happen.

However, not everything was okay in your life. While becoming Ayato’s fiancé made you the happiest woman ever, your parents had grown to dislike him even more. Why you ask? Because he made you happy. In their eyes, someone like you did not deserve to be happy after making their lives so miserable. They were forcing you into marriage thinking that you’d live the rest of your life subdued and controlled by a manipulative man, but to their dismay Ayato had saved you, and now they would see you smile way more than you ever had. The only reason why they kept quiet about their dislike for this marriage was due to the attention they were getting. Your parents were never really that important in your household, for your fathers older brother was the one leading the Kanjou Commission. But now, the announcement of your marriage to the Yashiro Commissioner had given your parents renewed importance. Besides, every single person in Inazuma knew better than to mess with the Yashiro Commissioner.

That did not stop them from making your life miserable though. Their behaviour was getting worse, their words were sharper than the blade of the strongest of swords. You payed no heed to them whenever you could help it, trying to focus on the happiness you had found.

It had been two weeks since you and Ayato had met, and today you saw Thoma again, with a gift in his hand. “Lady Hiragi! My lord wanted me to deliver this to you, and express his affection for you.” You smiled shyly, accepting the gift with gratitude. “Thank you Thoma, please thank him from my side, I will send him a letter today itself.” Thoma nodded, bidding you farewell as he headed back to Inazuma city.

You came back to your bedroom, opening the package and gasped seeing its contents. There lay a fine box of paints, each made from flowers all over Teyvat. There were over 20 vibrant colours, each packaged so intricately in embroidered glass bottles. You knew he must’ve spend a fortune in buying these, and once again you felt like the luckiest woman in Teyvat. You had told him about your love for art about a month ago, and you remember how enthralled he was, asking you all sorts of questions about the different types of painting techniques and art styles. It was that day you realised that Ayato was very fond of art, and his curiosity and willingness to learn about something you were so fond of made your heart warm. He truly had outdone himself by giving you this gift. You carefully closed the box of paints, deciding to keep it somewhere safe and hidden, but alas, fate had other plans.

Your parents barged into your room, making you gasp, your eyes widening with fear. You knew their hatred towards your love for painting, and if they found out what Ayato had gifted you, they would destroy it. Your father noticed the slight panic in your eyes, and his eyes went towards the box you were holding so close to yourself. “What are you holding huh?! Show me now!” “It’s nothing father, just a gift Lord Kamisato sent..” “Do you think I’m stupid girl? I said, hand me the box now!” You were helpless, but you tried to put up a brave front. This gift was too precious to be destroyed, and you were tired of your parent’s’ behaviour.

“Why father?” You saw the way his eyes turned dark with rage, and he stormed towards you, snatching the box from your hands despite your struggle. “How dare you question me in my own house you ungrateful girl?!” You saw as he opened the beautiful box, revealing delicate glass bottles filled with paints. “Paints in my house? After telling you countless times to quit this nonsense and behave like a proper lady? Have you no shame?!” You felt your heart drop, wanting to protect Ayato’s gift from your father, as you tried to go to him, only to be held back by your mother, who was furiously glaring at you. “How dare you have the audacity of disobeying your father!” She yelled, her grip on your wrists burning you. Before you could reply, you heard a loud crash, and right there and then, your heart broke with the same intensity. You looked back, seeing the once beautifully bottled paints on the floor, broken shards of glass all over your room. You let out a cry of agony, falling on the floor, trying to somehow salvage the disaster. “NO! Why…why…” you cried helplessly, as you somehow tried to collect the paint back, desperately trying to save the precious gift your fiancé had given to you with so much love. You hissed as the shards of glass pierced through your soft skin, your crimson blood now mixing with the paints on the floor.

While you were on the floor, weeping in agony, your mother marched towards your drawer, finding what she had suspected: the bunch of letters Ayato had been sending to you. Your head snapped in her direction when you heard the ripping of paper, and you felt your already broken heart get crushed under the weight of your mother’s heartless actions. “MOTHER! STOP, PLEASE!” But your pleas were unheard and ignored, as she tossed the torn pieces of paper into the fireplace. “Disobedient girls like you need to be taught a lesson” you heard the cold voice of your mother speak, as you were left on the floor, tears falling endlessly onto your cheeks. You looked at them, the very people who had given birth to you; who seemed so pleased seeing you broken and wounded. “WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU BOTH? What did I do to deserve this!?” This seemed to anger your parents even more, as your mother gripped onto your hair, making you look at her and her husband. “You are no one to raise your pathetic voice at us! It is because of us that you are marrying that fool, and you do not deserve love! You have ruined our lives, your existence is a mistake! It would’ve been better if we had no child!”

Your father then added in a cold voice. “You are not stepping out of this house now. It’s time you learnt your place you ungrateful child.” And just like that, they left, locking you inside your room. You wept bitterly, as all the tears of pain and agony came crashing down on you. You felt pathetic, powerless and weak. You could not protect your happiness, you could not protect the love filled letter and gift that your fiancé had taken so much effort to prepare for you. You sat there, hands bleeding while your heart and soul wept bitterly. You missed Ayato so much, but now how were you going to reach him? You were trapped, locked like a prisoner. You did not know what was going to happen to you now.

Ayato paced back and forth in his study, a frown visible on his usually calm face. It had been 2 weeks since he sent you the paints, but he had not heard from you at all. No letter, no messengers, nothing. There was a strong feeling of dread and unease in his heart, as if something was terribly wrong. He needed to see you, he was afraid something had happened. although you never shared the details, he knew your parents were bad people, and he also knew they disliked him greatly. Had they harmed you in some manner in his absence? He had to stay in inazuma city due to continuous meetings with the almighty Shogun about removing the Sakoku decree as well as forming compensations to the people who were drastically affected by the vision hunt decree. She had changed into a gentle god, and all of inazuma was very grateful for that.

“Sir, we have a little intel.” He heard one of his shumatsubaan say, whom he had sent over to Ritou earlier this morning to check up on you somehow. “What is it?” “The Hiragi Estate is heavily guarded, especially the area near the back gardens where Lady Hiragi Y/N’s room is situated. They have also forbidden any visitors at the moment. Moreover, the people of Ritou have not seen or heard anything about her in over two weeks.” Ayato’s heard grew even more uneasy. It was as he had feared, something had happened to you. “You may go, thank you for your service.” The man bowed and left, as Ayato took a deep breath, feeling anger seeping into his chest. He was going to get you out of there today. If he found even a single scratch on your being, he would rain hell on your parents. He immediately left his home, heading straight towards Ritou.

Upon his arrival at the Hiragi estate, he saw the panic in the guards eyes. How could they deny the Yashiro Commissioner entry? Ayato payed them no heed, storming into the household, his eyes filled with rage as every single clue lead to only one conclusion, his love being harmed. As he walked into the living room, your mother’s eyes widened. How was that wretched Kamisato boy here? “L..lord Kamisato! What a pleasant surprise, what is the matter-“ “with all due respect Lady Hiragi, I am not here for pleasantries, I wish to meet my fiancé right now please.” Ayato’s ice cold tone cut her off, his eyes dark and threatening.

“Ah..well you see, Y/N is..resting! Perhaps you can meet her another day?” Ayato took a deep breath to somehow calm down as the urge to reach for his sword grew stronger than ever. Did these old fools think he was dumb? “Lady Hiragi. I wish to see Y/N. right. Now.” Hearing the commotion, your father rushed towards his wife, only to see their worst nightmare right inside their house. “Kamisato Ayato, what inappropriate behaviour is this, marching into someone’s home?” Ayato laughed at his words, but that laugh sent a chill down the couple’s spine. It was a cold and menacing laugh, one that made them feel weak in front of the Yashiro Commissioner.

“Do you both take me to be a fool? Did you really think that trapping my soon to be wife was a wise decision?” He stood up, his patience completely spent as he walked closer to your father, easily towering over the shorter man. Ayato’s voice was deep and unforgiving, his voice laced with venom. “If any of you try to stop me, I will tear down every single wall of this house until I see my love. And if I find a single scratch on her, not even the Almighty Shogun will be able to save you from my wrath.” With these words, ayato walked off, trying to locate your room.

You were sitting in a corner of your room, head buried between your arms. Your once glowing face was now dull and lifeless, the dark circles around your eyes evidently showing the countless nights you had not slept. You had not been able to step out of your house, the maids only gave you one meal a day. You missed Ayato so much, his beautiful lavender eyes, his deep voice, his honeyed words and the warmth of his embrace. You missed him so much, but you could not do anything, powerless before the wrath of your parents who had once again managed to break you. However, you frowned hearing loud and hurried footsteps approaching your room, as the door of your room opened. Your eyes widened seeing the person you were longing for in front of your eyes. “Ayato…”

To say that his heart broke was a cruel understatement. He felt his soul twist in agony, his blood boil in anger and his eyes tear up seeing your condition. You looked so weak, so frail, your dull and lifeless eyes surrounded with dark circles. Your room was a mess, and he noticed the shattered glass bottles of the paints he had gifted you near the corner you were sitting in. In the fireplace was the residue of burnt paper, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out what had happened. He rushed to you, immediately taking you in his arms. “Daarin…”

You broke down into sobs hearing his voice, clutching onto his blazer. Finally he was here, the warmth you longed for engulfed you like a bonfire on a snowy night. You held onto him like your life depended on it, crying uncontrollably. What you did not know was that tears had fallen down Ayato’s eyes too. He felt so horrible for leaving you alone in this hell, so horrible for being unable to protect you. Seeing you in such a state hurt him more than any blade ever had. Your cries were breaking his heart. Still, he held himself strong for you, gently caressing your hair, holding you so close. “Hush my love, I’m here with you..none of this is your fault, I’m so sorry for leaving you alone here..”

You shook your head, not wanting him to feel guilty for what had happened. You looked up into those lavender eyes you loved so much, your bottom lip trembling with guilt and remorse. “Ayato…I’m sorry…I couldn’t save your gift..father broke it…and mother burnt all your letters…I couldn’t do anything..forgive me for being so weak..” you ended up sobbing again, and Ayato engulfed you in his arms, kissing your forehead. “Shhh my love…you are not weak, none of this was your fault. I will gift you a hundred more of those paints, I will write a million more letters to you. What matters to me is you Daarin. You are the bravest woman I’ve ever seen..And now that im here, I promise you on my honour, I will not let you step a foot into this house again. Im going to get you out of here.”

You looked up at him, hesitant and unsure of how this would work, being afraid of the public gossip this action might invoke. As if reading your thoughts, Ayato wiped your tears away gently, his voice being gentle, but his words were full of anger. “I’m going to make them pay. They will spend the rest of their lives, wishing they had never dared to harm you. I will bring justice to you love, you have my word. No one harms my Family.”

#genshin fanfic #kamisato ayato #genshin fanart #ayato x reader #genshin ayato #ayato x y/n #ayato fluff #ayato x you #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact

[valiantstarlights]

[ShowXComic Swap AU] The Truth Can't Hurt You, It's Just Like The Dark

It's Comic!Dream who appears in the Show!universe, and Show!Dream whisks Show!Hob away to the Dreaming for his own safety while he works to banish his other self.

Now, task accomplished, Dream knows he has to return Hob back to the Waking World.

But not yet.

This is a @dreamlingforukraine fic commission for @hoblingtyrant. ✨️ Thank you for your generosity and your patience 🙇‍♀️ I hope this level of darkness is to your liking. 👀

The title is from the song, "I Want You" by Fiona Apple. You can also read this story on AO3 here. 😊

CW: Spicy spice, but also dark themes! I'm talking Dark!Dream and his unhinged behavior, dubious consent, codependency, unreliable narrator, and even (offscreen) minor character death 👀

Note: This from the same AU as The Burning House, The Gilded Cage, and Fidelity. Except this is a new universe within that multiverse? 😂

Dream did not mean to take it this far.

But when he managed to banish his other self back into his own universe and it was time to return Hob into the Waking World, he found himself hesitant.

Just another week, he told himself. Just one more week and then he's going to return Hob back to his life.

But the weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years, and it's very easy to lose track of time in the Dreaming, even for dreams and nightmares.

Only Dream knows how much time has truly passed, and none would dare to speak against him. Not after he unmade his own raven for trying to get Hob to leave him. For trying to turn Hob against him.

It's unfortunate, but Matthew had to be unmade. Dream could forgive many things, but betrayal is not one of them.

Hob had asked where Matthew had gone, of course. And Dream had said, "He chose to retire."

It was not a lie.

Before Matthew became Dream's raven, he was a grown man. He knew exactly what he was doing when he did it. And so Dream allowed him to reap the consequences of his own actions and retired him.

Lucienne, he knows, has a lot of words saved up for him behind her teeth. But she does not speak against him. Nowadays, she barely speaks at all, keeping her replies limited to, "Yes, sir," and, "Right away, sir."

He appreciates her loyalty, and the fact that she knows her place.

The other dreams and nightmares follow her lead. Dream acknowledges that this is a cause for concern. A large number of his subjects might ask Lucienne to one day lead a mutiny against him, but he knows she will decline.

She knows all of them can be easily replaced with newer, more obedient versions of themselves. She will name the second Corinthian as an example, and they will all shut their mouths.

As they should.

They should know that there is only one being who is irreplaceable to Dream, and that Dream will unmake his own raven, move heaven and earth, and indeed, murder another Dream of the Endless--if it means having his love by his side for all eternity.

--

Truly, Dream did not mean to take it this far. But the thought of Hob leaving, the thought of Hob having a life away from him, or worse, being in danger or having another Eleanor--

Dream grits his teeth at the thought. He will not see it happen. Not again. Especially not now, after he has tasted Hob's soft lips, and swallowed down his moans of Dream's name, his frame shaking in Dream's arms, and his eyes so full of love as he looks at Dream after their lovemaking, when they're both lying in bed, sweating and sated.

If anyone dares to take Hob away from him, even one of his own siblings, he will tear the fabric of reality apart just to get him back.

--

"Hello love," Hob greets cheerfully as Dream enters the kitchen area of Hob's house in the Dreaming. He always perks up when Dream gets home, and it never fails to make Dream feel loved. He never understood the concept of 'home' until recently, when he comes back from his duties and arrives where Hob is.

This corner of the Dreaming, hidden from sight from everyone else and guarded by Corinthian himself, is always summer bright, though Dream allows the seasons to change whenever Hob requests it. Today is a sunny winter's day, and the skies are a robin's egg blue.

Dream will do anything for Hob, as long as Hob doesn't talk about wanting to leave.

"Hello, Hob," he says, and walks the short distance towards his love, wrapping his arms around Hob's middle while his chin rests on Hob's shoulder.

Hob is cooking something that looks like seafood stew on the stove, and he is currently stirring and testing the stew's viscosity. "How was work today?"

"Tedious," Dream replies, and places feather-soft kisses on the exposed skin of Hob's neck. Hob shivers deliciously and leans more against him, and Dream tightens his arms around him, pressing their bodies even closer together. "I would rather be here with you."

Hob chuckles, ladling a spoonful of the stew and blowing on it. "Then you should take more days off," he says, then holds the spoonful towards Dream. "Here, taste."

Hob does small, sweet, and seemingly insignificant things like that--blowing on a spoonful of hot stew to cool it down, even when he knows full well that Dream can't burn his tongue.

Dream loves him so much.

He opens his mouth and lets Hob feed him. The broth tastes gingery, and there are clams and cuttlefish and fishcake in the spoonful that Hob offered him. Dream has no doubt that, were Hob to make this same dish in the Waking World, it would taste just as good. But here in the Dreaming, it tastes absolutely sublime.

Like all the food that Hob made ever since he started living in Dream's realm, the stew tastes like devotion. Like a love that has simmered for more than 600 years, with a well-developed, deep, rich flavor, and a sweetness that makes Dream crave for Hob more.

It's delicious, and his hunger grows the more he eats. He angles his hips away so as to not bring attention to his rapidly hardening cock. There will be time for that later.

"Good?" Hob asks, when Dream gives a pleased hum as he chews. "It's a seafood stew I first tasted in a little seaside restaurant in the 1970s. Unfortunately, they closed before I could return the following summer. And I couldn't find the owners, so I had to spend a considerable amount of time trying to recreate it."

Dream swallows the stew and licks his lips, devouring Hob's story as well. He turns his face to the side to kiss Hob on the lips. It's an awkward angle, but Dream stretches his neck a little longer, more than what a human is capable of, and he makes it work without inconveniencing Hob.

Hob, for his part, sighs happily into the kiss and blindly reaches towards the stove to turn off the flames. His hand misses by a couple of inches, but this is the Dreaming, and Dream is its lord, and he turns the flames off for Hob with a single thought.

Hob will never be in danger here.

When they part for breath, Hob is panting, and he turns around fully so Dream could crowd him against the kitchen counter, his legs bracketed by Dream's on either side. "The stew is delicious," Dream praises, leaning in to kiss and lick Hob's lips again. He will never get enough of him. "And so was your story."

"I'm glad you like it," Hob says, cheeks pinkening in pleasure that Dream likes his cooking. Like Dream would ever find any of his dishes wanting. "It took me years to get it right, and by the time I did, the fishmongers in the market had taken to calling me 'seafood stew guy.' It's fine since it was about the time I changed identities anyway, but it still makes me cringe that somewhere out there, a bunch of old people would fondly recount the story of the seafood stew guy to their grandchildren."

Dream chuckles at Hob's accompanying silly daydream--a hunched old lady walking with a child down a beachfront, telling them about the years she interacted with a strange fellow who ate nothing but seafood stew.

"I think it's admirable that you always work so hard to achieve your goals," Dream says fondly. Where most humans would give up, Hob Gadling would persist. It's one of many reasons why Dream fell in love with him.

Hob smiles sweetly up at him and stands slightly on his tiptoes to give Dream a chaste peck on the lips. "Thank you for saying so," he says. "But really, it's your influence. You always make me want to do my best."

Dream growls at his words and deepens their kiss. Trust Hob to know just the right words to make Dream feel even more insane about him.

He lifts Hob up so he could sit him on the counter to make it easier for his neck. Hob wastes no time and pulls Dream towards him with his legs, and locks his ankles against his waist so Dream would not go far.

As if Dream ever would, when Hob is right here.

"Are we going to eat sometime soon, or will I have to reheat the food later?" Hob asks. "Because I feel like it's going to be a few hours before we start eating, and I would like you to know that I made pot stickers as well."

Dream starts unbuttoning Hob's trousers. "Sounds delicious."

Hob laughs and helps Dream take off his clothes, raising his hips when Dream starts sliding his trousers off, and pulling his shirt over his head. "'Sounds delicious,' he says. But is he talking about pot stickers or something else?"

"I'm talking about you, of course," Dream says, and leans down to swirl his tongue around Hob's nipple. "Your dishes always taste good, but you taste even better."

Hob moans at that, and pulls Dream's head more towards his chest. "Fuck, Dream--"

"I'm right here, my love," Dream says, and nips at the soft skin of Hob's hairy tits. He looks so beautiful. Dream waves his hand impatiently so the clothing melts off both their bodies.

"That's...oh! That's cheating."

Dream shrugs and gently lays Hob down on the counter, the space accommodating them and reshaping itself so Hob's head doesn't hit the wall, and he can fully lie down on his back with his legs still around Dream's waist. "I never once claim to play fair."

Hob pouts at him. "I had to make the pot stickers from scratch, you know," he says. "No cheating about it. Do you know how long it takes to make them? Because the recipe said one hour, but obviously it didn't take into account all the wrapping--"

Dream kisses Hob to prevent him from talking about the time, biting at his lips gently, one hand massaging his pec, while the other strokes his cock. Hob moans and arches his back, all talk of food forgotten.

"Dream--"

"We will eat your wonderful creations later, my love," Dream promises. "But now, I must have my fill of you so I can sate the hunger that has been driving me mad all day."

--

Hob moans as Dream eats him out right there on the kitchen counter. Normally, he wouldn't allow such a thing, arguing that they need to retreat to the bedroom because the kitchen is a sacred space meant only for preparing food. But this is the Dreaming, and the rules of the Waking World do not apply here. The counter will remain spotless and sanitized if Dream wills it, and so Hob allows himself to be taken every which way in his dream kitchen.

The kitchen in his flat in the Waking World is small, with barely enough space to do food prep, but here in the Dreaming, Dream has spoiled him and allowed him to design his own kitchen, with no thought given to how much it would cost or, indeed, if some of the things he wanted were even possible in the Waking World.

Dream told him that his imagination is the limit, and so Hob had gone nuts. His dream kitchen is bright and airy, allowing plenty of sunlight in, with light-colored wooden cabinets and marble countertops. But it never gets too warm when he's cooking, and his pantry is always full. He also never runs out of ingredients or have ingredients spoil because he forgot all about them.

And it doesn't stop there. Because Dream let Hob go nuts with the entire house as well. The bedroom is always pleasantly cool and the sheets are always clean, and the bathroom is spacious enough to have a large bathtub that would fit both of them, even when Dream feels like being bigger than human-sized.

Hob won't even have to clean or water the plants or do laundry again if he doesn't want to. (He sometimes wants to, but only for roleplay purposes.)

Dream has literally made for him the perfect house, and all he had asked is for Hob to stay. For just a little while. Just while he works on banishing another Dream of the Endless who just appeared one day in the Waking World.

And in Hob's time in the Dreaming, it must have been...oh, a few weeks by now, Dream has had him practically on every surface in the house. Even, memorably, on the observatory's smooth glass dome, with all the stars twinkling below them, and made Hob feel like they were fucking in a space station.

Responding to his very detailed daydream, Dream temporarily turns the observatory to a futuristic spaceship that affords a 360 degree view of space, and Hob gets rimmed and railed above the rings of Saturn.

It's like Dream can't ever get enough of Hob, and Hob...

He loves it.

Having Dream's entire attention focused only on him, having his lips on him, his arms around him, his cock in him...

"Dream," Hob moans, as Dream shapes his tongue so it could reach even deeper within his hole. "Dream, please, I'm so close--"

"Is that a warning to get me to stop, or a plea to let you cum?"

Dream has not let up from fucking him with his tongue, and so his voice is being projected by the walls instead.

Hob shivers at the casual display of power and tightens his hold on Dream's hair. "I want to cum, please." He squirms when Dream's tongue grows even larger and reaches even deeper. "Fuck-- Your tongue is so deep, I can almost feel it in my stomach."

In reply, Dream's tongue pushes upward, and Hob whines when he sees the outline of Dream's monstrous tongue on his lower belly. "Shit, Dream--"

"Cum for me, Hob," the walls said in Dream's voice, while Dream's dark starlight eyes look up at him from between his legs. "Cum on my tongue with my name on your lips. Scream out who you belong to."

Hob pants and whimpers as Dream starts thrusting his tongue faster, his sharp, dark lacquered nails digging into Hob's thighs, leaving red marks. "Dream," Hob gasps out as Dream's tongue presses him in all the right places, making his muscles flutter and squeeze involuntarily in pleasure. "Mmmn, right there--gonna come--" The tongue twists inside him, hitting his prostate dead on, and Hob yelps as his thighs start to seize. "Fuck! Dream!"

Dream hums as Hob starts cumming, and Hob's orgasm intensifies at the vibration. "Dream," he moans, voice cracking a little and feeling delirious with pleasure. He just came untouched but he needs more. He needs Dream inside him. Marking him. Filling him. He is Dream's, body and soul, forever. "Fuck me again," he begs, and shifts to make himself look more alluring. He pushes his tits together and cups them from underneath, presenting them to Dream like a feast. "Fuck me with your cock this time."

He keens in delight when Dream reaches with both hands and gropes at the cups of his breasts, thumbing and twisting at his nipples. His tongue starts to shrink inside Hob, and Hob whines and clenches his muscles, futilely trying to keep the prehensile organ inside him.

He feels like crying. No. Not yet. Not yet, please. "No, please. I still need you. Hurry, I feel so empty--"

"Patience, Hob," Dream murmurs as he stands, hands still on Hob's hairy tits, palming and squeezing. His tongue is shrinking, but it's still longer than normal, and Dream is utilizing its current length to lick Hob's slick from his chin and around his mouth. Hob moans at the sight and pulls Dream's body closer to him with his legs. "I will give you everything you need."

--

Hours later, Dream is still fucking Hob, though they have relocated to the bedroom.

Hob is holding his legs open, his nipples swollen from the amount of time Dream spent sucking and biting at them, and his stomach is streaked in white from his many orgasms. He looks radiant.

Dream thrusts harder, angling Hob's legs higher and wider, and enjoys the beautiful fucked out sounds and helpless gasps that spill from Hob's lips. His moans are interspersed with Dream's name and pleas for more, and Dream obeys and gives him exactly what he wants.

Can Hob really make it back in the Waking World? After Dream has spoiled him rotten here?

He would hate it, Dream thinks. The unavailability of certain ingredients, the fucked up climate and unpredictability of the weather, the mundane chores he has to accomplish daily...

It would be like dropping a 21st century man back in the 14th century. And for how well Dream knows Hob, he knows he would not want it. He would miss all the conveniences that the 21st century has provided him: electricity and wifi and take-out, not to mention that he'll have to get a job again. Not because he needs to work for a living--Hob has too much money for that now, but to pretend like he's just another normal human and not arouse suspicion.

Hob would hate it. If Dream were to return him to the Waking World now, he would absolutely despise it. He would think that Dream is purposefully being cruel to him. Abandoning him like he did before.

If Dream sent him back to the Waking World, wouldn't that only spell disaster for them both? Dream left Hob in 1589 for some unimportant poet and came back to Hob tortured and dirty and starved. Uncared for. And Dream left Hob once more due to his stupid pride in 1889 and got himself imprisoned for more than a hundred years.

Clearly, the lesson to be learned here is he should never leave Hob's side ever again.

And the last thing he wants is for Hob to hate him. For him to look at Dream with heartbreak in his eyes, his pure, gentle heart once more crushed into fine powder at his feet.

He will never make Hob sad again. And bringing him back to the Waking World...

No. Out of the question.

It's better if Hob stays here, where Dream can provide anything his heart desires. Where Dream could always love and protect him. He will give Hob a world--a universe--where everything he wishes for will be his.

His perfect darling.

"Dream," Hob moans, as Dream starts thrusting deeper, losing his rhythm as Hob squeezes his cock deliciously. "More. Fill me more. I want to look round and pregnant and yours."

Dream groans at that, and imagines little children with their features running around the house. How many would they have? A dozen? A hundred? They have the rest of eternity.

But no. Not yet. Maybe someday, when Hob is more settled.

Dream will ask Hob again when he is less out of his mind with lust. And if Hob really wants to bear his children, then who is Dream to say no to him?

--

Much, much later, as they lie on the bed, Dream on his back with an arm around Hob, Hob on his side with his hand placed on Dream's chest, their legs tangled together and Hob's round stomach filled with Dream's cum pressed against Dream's side, Hob nuzzles against Dream's chest and says, "How goes trying to banish the other Dream?"

Dream stops running his fingers through Hob's hair, but resumes after only a moment's pause. "He has proved to be cunning," he says. "But you should not worry. I am more than a match for him, and I will never let him hurt you."

Hob hums and kisses the patch of skin in front of his face, which is just a little above Dream's heart. "Okay," he mumbles, already half-asleep. "Take your time. I don't want you getting injured."

Dream pulls Hob closer and presses soft kisses on his forehead. "I will be careful," he says. "I will always come home to you."

Hob yawns and snuggles closer. Like this, it's difficult to tell where he ends and when Dream begins. "Good," he says sleepily. "Love you."

Dream would do whatever it takes to keep Hob by his side. "And I you, my love."

--

Epilogue

In another universe, a defeated Dream of the Endless gasps awake with a rattling cough. He sits up, clutching at what's left of his stomach, and starts to vomit shadows that turn into spiders that hiss like snakes as they hit the ground and scuttle away from him.

There is a literal hole in the middle of his stomach, going right through his spine. And his body, Endless as it is, struggles to stitch itself together again. He heaves, retches, and spits thick, yellow acid that makes the ground sizzle.

He wipes the sweat off his forehead and surveys the damage done to him.

From what he can see of his limbs, his left leg had been blown clear off, leaving him with a charred stump that ends a hand's span away from his pelvic region. The flesh of his left arm is partially melted, showing irritated bits of skin and bleach-white bones. His entire right side is mostly unscathed, with only a few deep slashes here and there from where the other Dream had raked his claws.

His back is littered with shrapnel and lightning vines that shock him occasionally, but they are a minor inconvenience at the moment.

Distantly, he is grateful that there is no one to see him in such a wretched state. The Dreaming here has long been reduced to an empty, desolate wasteland filled only with treacherous mists and islands of stone ruins.

His black clothing hangs off him like the sails of a shipwrecked galley, also courtesy of the other Dream's ruthless attacks, but the thing that he came for, offered to him freely upon a hidden altar, lies safe within his hollow chest.

He winces as he cracks open his ribs and withdraws from the empty safe that used to be his heart, a battered, leather bound notebook.

It's plain brown and cracked in places, stained golden and glittering by some sort of eldritch blood in others. It's the kind that can be bought in stationery shops, but it looks more than a quarter of a century old, and it certainly smells like it.

He inspects it thoroughly now.

He would have looked at its contents earlier, but he was busy fending off his other self. That other Dream is stronger than he is, and he fought like a rabid animal, almost frothing at the mouth in hatred.

Dream wonders what the other him is protecting so ferociously. A small part of him wants to know so he could take it away from the other him and use it to cast him down. The larger part of him mourns that he has forgotten what it feels like to feel that strongly about something.

It has been centuries since he felt anything, and his realm is a reflection of that.

A Dreaming as empty as its master, with dreamers running scared as Dream's shadows chase them for sustenance.

He opens the notebook carefully, mindful of its age. A card falls out and lands on the patch of ground by his remaining knee. It's a simple white cardstock.

Dream picks it up and notices that there is something written on the back. He turns the paper around and reads the words.

Once he finishes reading, he reads the words again.

And again, for the third time.

The corners of his mouth start twitching, and, unable to contain the mirth overwhelming his body, he starts to laugh.

It starts out as a menacing chuckle, before it grows louder and louder, until it shakes the earth and becomes more deafening than a thunderclap.

It's been a while since he laughed.

It feels good.

In the ruins around him, the shadows dance in their nests, and blood-red vines slither on the ground like veins. In the far-off distance, a couple of pterodactyls screech in the sky.

The Dreaming has been dead for years, but here it is, showing signs of life again.

On the ground where the card had landed for but a moment, green grass had started to push up from the earth, and they fill the air with the scent of summer.

Dream presses the white cardstock against his nose and breathes the scent of it greedily. He could not believe he has almost forgotten the sweet, lovely, faithful scent of Hob Gadling.

He will read his darling's notes later. But for now, Dream rips his clothes further so he could wrap one hand around his cock while his other, healing, skeletal one holds the notebook, and its accompanying note against his face.

The notebook smells slightly stale, but it still smells of Hob's sweat. Dream groans and licks the paper, tasting the ghost of Hob's fingers.

Delicious.

He tastes so fucking good.

The card is newer, bought recently, and Hob had kissed the bottom corner, like the temptation that he is, with bright red lipstick the color of Dream's ruby. Dream presses his lips upon the impression on the paper covetously and strokes his cock harder.

Dream has had ambrosia thousands of years ago in Olympus.

But Hob's lips, through the lipstick's impression, tastes even better than that.

It's been so long since he had felt such pleasure. And it won't be long until he has a Robert Gadling of his very own.

His eyes roll to the back of his head as he cums with Hob's name on his lips, while all around him, his realm heals along with his ruined body.

Life. Hob has granted him life with a single, ghostly kiss. What more if Dream kisses his own Hob? What more if Dream makes love to him, their curves and edges fitting together seamlessly, their shared sweat and cum blessing the earth under their bodies?

He kisses the note reverently, and smears his seed on the slightly smudged lipstick. Amazingly, his cock twitches again at the sight.

He smiles.

He has preparations to make.

--

To another beloved Dream, one who lost his Hob before the 21st century,

With this, I hope you'll find another Hob to love you for the rest of your days. I found that there are many, across all of time and space, who lost their Dreams. It is my wish that those who were left behind not be lonely for long, because life is so much more happier when you have the one you love by your side.

I wish you luck and happiness, and I apologize if you were injured in any way in the process of getting my offering. My Dream is a bit overzealous, but he loves me well.

With love,

Hob Gadling 💋

--

Hob wakes up in Dream's arms and smiles when he sees that his love is still sleeping. Good. Hob leans up to kiss his chin and snuggles even closer. Still asleep, Dream hums and tightens his hold on Hob. Like Hob is trying to leave the bed and he's preventing him from doing so.

Hob huffs a laugh. His lovely boyfriend is so silly sometimes. Why would Hob want to leave? He doesn't have to go to the bathroom anymore upon waking up, like he did in the Waking World. And no need to brush his teeth either to get rid of his morning breath.

He traces random patterns on Dream's chest as he waits, content, for him to wake naturally. Hob would have to reheat the stew and the pot stickers from yesterday for breakfast, but he knows they'll still taste like he just took them off the stove.

(It's very convenient, and Hob always makes sure to thank Dream for the wonderful house he built for him.)

His hole throbs pleasantly as he clenches it, imagining sitting on Dream's cock during breakfast, warming him. Maybe they could fuck once more before Dream leaves to attend to his duties again.

He doesn't tell Hob the details of his current duties, but Hob knows he's lying about still not being able to banish the other Dream. He just doesn't know why Dream is trying to hide the truth from him. Does he think Hob would want to leave?

Because he doesn't. Why would he?

Dream needs someone to take care of him. He has so many duties, and even more people depending on him. When Hob is still living in the Waking World, he tried his best to help Dream unwind, but he can only do so much with the limited amount of time they have in the evening.

And so Dream remained tired and sleep-deprived, even under Hob's care.

But that changed when Hob started living in the Dreaming. Now, Dream is sleeping well, and eating well, and he can fuck Hob whenever and however long he wants! No need to wait for Hob's body to recover. They could just go at it again and again until they're both satisfied.

It's a bit irritating that Dream's duties take him away from Hob, but that's okay, because Hob has a plan for that as well.

Soon, Hob thinks happily as he caresses his cum-filled belly, Dream will have another excuse to stay at home more often.

Dream stirs, and Hob turns his face brightly towards him. "Good morning, Dream."

Dream smiles, unguarded, and it never fails to make Hob's heart all aflutter. He looks so handsome, and Hob can't believe he's the lucky person who gets to wake up next to him. "Good morning, Hob," he says, his voice sleep rough but happy. Content. "My darling. My love."

Yes, Hob thinks, as Dream pulls him closer for their first kiss of the day. It's definitely better now that he's here.

--

"I think it's admirable that you always work so hard to achieve your goals," Dream says with a soft look in his eyes, looking at Hob like he's something precious.

Dream does not know the things Hob did to be here with him, and sometimes Hob wonders if Dream would still love him if he knew. He hopes he does. He cannot bear the thought of Dream hating him and casting him aside, leaving him like he did before. He would rather die.

Hob smiles sweetly at the only love of his long, immortal life, and stands slightly on his tiptoes to kiss the lips that he has been dreaming about since that day in 1389. "Thank you for saying so," he says. "But really, it's your influence. You always make me want to do my best."

#showXcomic swap AU #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #dreamlingforukraine #good job my thumbs

[qingxintea]

the stars intertwine *ੈ✩‧₊˚

genshin impact

headcanons — aether, xiao, scaramouche

when you tell them you feel alone

AETHER ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

immediately, aether seemed to pick up on your mood. usually he wasn’t very exposed to you feeling down as you kept onto an upbeat show even if it didnt correspond to how you were truly feeling.

deeming the fact that you let it show this time to a point where he could genuinely pick it up, he determined it must’ve reached a bad point. he asked you about it.

“y/n? im sorry if this sounds weird— i just think that you seem a little down today. are you okay?”

he looked at you with the utmost concern and it almost pushed you into crying more. kinda like trying to not cry at school but someone asks “are you okay?” and u cry fr

“yeah— sorry,” you immediately apologize, feeling bad that you made him worry.

“nono, please don’t apologize; just tell me what’s wrong if thats okay,” he smiles gently and takes your hands

you stare intently for some seconds and then take a deep breath. “i just feel a little lonely.”

silence sits for a second but you could feel his hands tense a bit around yours.

finally, he speaks (:

“i’m sorry if i failed you accompany you today,” he blurts out in a rush, feeling responsible for your mood. “d-“

“what? no, aether,” you shake your head, “this is not your fault at all. its just one of those days. thats all.” you smile in reassurance.

he sighs gladly knowing that he was not involved in the issue. he knows about days where you simply just felt down— he had them all the time when he was finding his sister ):

he caresses your face and comes to a conclusion.

“then lets be alone together.”

skips his commissions and takes sick leave and spends the rest of the day never leaving your side

you tell him all about your week!

“work at liyue qixing is very busy this week, we had a lot of broken architect and paranormal cases as of lately. ganyu and keqing always work so hard so i took these extra cases for them.”

“i spent more energy than usual and spent less time talking to people i love, talking to you. everytime i return from work, i just sort of collapse.”

aether chimes in, “y/n, you’re so sweet to everyone. from now on i will rest with you when you return.”

and he does! aether always keeps his word to you— you really are thankful for him.

he even goes out of his way to solve cases and fix things for you while you’re sleeping and you never notice him sneaking out. he talks to little ming and asks her if she knows anything behind the cases, fixes broken stairs and elevators, and ultimately asking keqing and ganyu to look out of you as you’ve been passing out lately.

he even crocheted you a little aether plushie to hold whenever he’s not around! so you’ll always have a piece of him with you (:

on the weekly, he gets you flowers. this week he got you a bouquet of cecilias so you don’t suspect he’s been working in liyue for you

the next week, when you tell him that your workload in liyue has been elevated, he is extremely glad that his work paid off. of course, he never tells you anything though

cutie fr

XIAO ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

xiao cant really verbally address feelings well and you know this. so initially you avoid telling him in general.

but he’s not oblivious to it— even though you don’t tell him, he can sense it. like that one time you made an extremely outrageous deal with a witch to take on his karmic debt and almost died LOL crazy

you also don’t tell him bc yk he’s lived for so many years longer than u that he’s lost so many people, probably more lonely than u

he can sense it through some of your usual offerings too! your cooking is corresponding to your mood and the almond tofu recently has been a bit bitter compared to your previous. its not that it tastes bad, it aroused concern.

he is scared to address it because he thinks he will be extremely awkward or insensitive. instead, he comforts you through acts of service and gift giving.

he picks up qingxin flowers for you and ties it with a vibrant red silk ribbon and leaves it on your doorstep. also gets u a green good luck amulet

now u have it on your nightstand and it helps u sleep better, the good luck amulet is always warn next to your vision YAY

he notices an improvement in your mood but it’s not to its original state.

eventually, he appears the next time you offer something and the two of you sit in comfortable silence until you break it.

“i’m sorry my offerings have been of lower quality recently. i am not feeling well and it shows through my work,” you apologize profusely. you think that him staying with you is a sign that he’s waiting for you to say something about recent troubles bc u always overthink LMAO

“don’t say sorry for something so minuscule,” he immediately responds but has no idea what to say after that.

but there is no need to add on because you know him so well. you know that when he says that it means he is more concerned about your well being than what you produce.

you nod slightly and the conversation ends there. he probably already realizes that you’ve been feeling lonely because you’ve been lacking in social energy this whole week due to your excessive work.

he stays with you for awhile and never gets up to get milk from the fridge or anything which is great

lowkey threatens your coworkers to keep an eye on you LMAOO so silly

SCARAMOUCHE ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

mention of medications and more sweating LMFAO

lowkey u just expect this guy to not care at all bc he’s emotionally constipated

BUT HE DOES HE JUST DOESNT SHOW IT BC HES SCARED HIS COWORKERS MIGHT MAKE FUN OF HIM FOR SHOWING EMOTION

so when he addresses it he makes sure ur in a completely ISOLATED SPACE so NO ONE FUCKING SPIES !!

“oookay, what the fuck is wrong with you y/n, have you not been taking your meds for the past month??”

LMAO he says it downright with no sugarcoat because he wants to get straight to the point

you get taken aback a bit bc it’s such a funny question

“no bitch i just feel like SHIT TODAY because im LONELY AND SINGLE 😭😭😭😭” you counter

“hoe, you are NOT SINGLE WE R LITERALLY DATING STUPID ASS”

“oh i forgot”

“r u fr.”

he brings u ur meds in like 2 pound crates and ur like “wtf”

he says it’s to compromise for your lack of meds the past month

“DUDE IVE BEEN TAKING THEM TODAYS JUST A CRAPPY DAY LMAO AND THATNIS NOT HOW IT WORKS????”

“??,??!!” he is so done HAHAHA “anyway why r u lonely wtf did tartar sauce say something mean to you AGAIN”

you laugh “ACTUALLY YEAH LOL HE WAS LIKE ‘at least i have a little brother’ AS A JOKE CUZ HE DOESNT KNOW THAT MINE WENT KABOOM 😵😵”

“BITCH U GOTTA TELL HIM SOON”

“SHUT UP”

the two of u end up playing super smash bros and u keep spamming villager rocket bc that’s ur favorite move and eventually u k.o. him with it even though he saw it coming, he forgot how to jump LMAO

he claims that he did that on purpose to make you feel better but u think he’s bs-ing because he’s a sore loser and embarrassed he lost by not dodging a whole ROCKET

“UNFAIR”

“LOSER”

eventually becomes a very heated roasting session because u two are the most toxic couple in all of teyvat that ur literally perfect for each other LMAO

“how does it feel to look 12 and 57 at the same time??? I BET U GET ID CHECKED AT 7LEAVES LMAO”

“PEOPLE ONLY NOTICE U WHEN U BECOME A PROBLEM”

“U LOOK LIKE A PURPLE BLOOD CLOT”

“COVID SWIPED LEFT ON YOU. FUCKING COVID”

“THE ONLY REASON YOU HAVENT DIED YET IS BC THE ARCHONS SAID ‘FUCK NO LEAVE HIM BACK ON TEYVAT OH MY GOD’”

no lonely anymore bc ur evil !

later when u don’t know he beats up childe for what he said LMAO “ARE U STUPID DONT BRING Y/N’S CRAPPY CRUMBLED FAMILY INTO ANYTHING” and childe never does it again

happy ending !

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

QINGXINTEA ONE YEAR RESSURECTION SO REAL

LIVE LAUGH AETHER

#genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #genshin comfort #xiao headcanons #genshin angst #xiao x reader #aether #aether x reader #world peace kindness end hate international day of pea #genshin smau #scaramouche

[peachyteabuck]

won’t you kiss me already? (fallon carrington x reader)

summary: after fallon finds out you’ve had a bad day at work, she’s determined to make it better

a commission for @devillskettle

pairing: fallon carrington x reader

words: 2124

content warnings: work-related anxiety, slight angst about said work, lots of fluff

Everything sucks. Everything really sucks.

You’re behind on deadlines because no one you work with can do their jobs properly. Everyone in the world seems to have your email and needs you to fix something. Your Internet is out at your apartment and you haven’t had hot water for a week. You spilled your coffee all over yourself this morning, making you late for a meeting with the VP (you always keep extra clothes in your office’s closet, but a button popped off on the first shirt you replaced, making it so you had to replace it once more). The same coffee was made wrong as well, the burnt taste souring your mood even further. Your laptop needs its battery replaced, and some random man tried to see an idea you’ve had for an advertising campaign for months.

Everything really, really sucks.

You’re just grateful to be home now, even if you can’t get any work done, and you can’t relax in a steaming hot bath while sipping red wine and reading a trashy romance novel. (You’ve still got the win and the bodice ripper, but it’s just not the same without the steamy bathroom and near-boiling water.)

Sitting alone in the quiet of your apartment eating from a giant bag of tortilla chips and a similarly large container of salsa that took five minutes to open is not how you imagined spending tonight. Still, it beats being at work.

Your poor mood becomes even worse when you hear a series of knocks at your front door—a sound that normally only ever brings your elderly neighbor asking for help with her ancient television or your downstairs neighbor asking you to not “be so loud” (despite you never moving furniture). On a normal day, you’d be willing to tell the sweet Italian woman that she just needs to turn the television on before changing the channel, or politely tell the douchey frat bro who you’re sure works for an unethical startup that if he’s hearing noises that aren’t there, he should take that up with his doctor and not you. But it hasn’t been a normal day, and you’re not in your normal mood.

Praying the person at your door will just leave, you remain face down on the couch with your feet dangling off the side. Hopefully, the person will just believe you aren’t home and will leave you in blessed silence.

Knock knock knock.

Of course, they don’t, though. Of course, this universe sees you struggling and goes “hey, want it to be worse?” without waiting for a response.

“I really don’t have time for this,” you grumble, speaking at a normal volume as you open the door. “Can you just-“

You stop in your tracks, frozen in place as you take in the sight in front of you.

It’s your girlfriend, clad in a signature well-cut pantsuit, with her giant work bag on one shoulder and both hands carrying a very large bag of what smells like takeout.

“A little bird told me you had a bad day,” she says, giving you a small, tentative smile as she steps into your apartment. “Was hoping I could make it better.”

You’re so happy to see her you legitimately could cry. And not one of those cute cries, where there are a few tears and you look like a newborn dear afterward. No, not an adorable little cry. Rather, one of those deep, guttural ones. The kind where snot runs down your chin and you scream so hard your throat hurts. The kind where sobs wrack your body and leave your muscles aching. The kind of cry that changes you, that represents a turning point in your life, where you emerge like a phoenix from the ashes of your old self.

Somehow, though, you manage to keep it all inside of you (and plan to let it all out when you’re finally able to take a steaming hot shower). You manage to give your lovely girlfriend a small smile, stepping to the side to let her in. Neither of you needs to say anything as she sits down on the couch next to your deeply sad dinner selection, rolling the top of the chip bag and closing the salsa before pushing them to the side to place the bags on your coffee table.

You, ever dutiful, follow her lead and curl up next to her on your old couch.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” she says, handing you a hot black plastic container with a clear lid. It’s hot in your hands, and for a moment you relish the warmth. You can feel it, somehow, in your chest, a pleasant heat simmering inside of you. Maybe that’s just what happens when Fallon is near, though.

“I just a lot,” you sigh, popping open the Tupperware-like container and letting the tantalizing smell waft into your nose. You’d spent most of the last few days eating cold leftovers—not of food you’d cooked yourself, but late-night deliveries that had gone cold as you attempted to finish work. “I haven’t had time to call a plumber and every time the Internet company schedules someone to come out. Work fucking sucks, and then I can’t come home and relax. It’s like, never-ending. Everything always sucks.”

“Hmm,” is all you hear before you begin shoveling forkfuls of noodles and chicken into your mouth. It’s good, so good, both because you’ve missed warm, freshly cooked meals, and because you’re sure this is from the expensive Thai place that’s on the other side of town.

It's out of your way, but, more importantly, it’s out of Fallon’s way. She works even more north than you do, having to cross the city just to get it. Thinking of her exerting herself like this is sweet in a way that makes your chipmunk cheeks blush.

Putting her phone down, Fallon empties the rest of the large, brown paper bag. In her hands emerges a white, semi-opaque bag smelling of a deliciously familiar scent.

“Crab Rangoon?” you ask, your mouth watering so much you can nearly feel yourself drool.

“Crab Rangoon,” she confirms, handing you the delicious morsels encased in waxy paper. “I just ask for one as girlfriend tax.”

Truly, you could cry from sheer joy and the love you have for her, and so of course, once you rip open the stapled bag, you have over the first one you see.

You then, of course, devour three of them in less time than it takes Fallon to properly mix up her pad Thai curry. Can she blame you, though?

Neither of you says anything for a while, and the quiet is therapeutic. Every day, all day, all there is at work is noise—the sounds of Teams, meetings, people chatting around your desk (did you mention you don’t even get a real office?), the clicking of keyboards and computer mice. Being able to sit in a soundless space comforts you more than anything, especially as Fallon’s leg presses against your own.

That is, until you hear knocks at the door again and roll your eyes.

“Is that how you reacted when you heard me knocking?” she asks with a snort, getting up before you have a chance to swallow your massive bite of pad Thai and meet the mystery person outside the door.

To be fair, you think to yourself as you struggle to clear your mouth. I probably would’ve been happier if I’d known it was you.

Fallon answers the door, and whoever is there is then just let into your apartment.

You don’t want to be rude, and Fallon seems to know who’s traversing his way into your apartment and why he’s got a giant box of tools, so you don’t say anything. But you still furrow your brow, to which Fallon pointedly ignores.

“Thanks for coming,” she leads the man through your kitchen and towards the back of your apartment. “Water heater is this way.”

When she returns, all you give her is a raised brow.

“That’s Greg,” she replies. As if that explains everything. “He’s the handyman we call at the office when the usual guy isn’t able to come in time.”

You nearly jump out of your chair, prepared to run and relieve this poor man of whatever duty your girlfriend bestowed upon him. “You made him come here?” you whisper-yell, pushing peanut pieces from your shirt. “Fallon, that guy probably has a wife and kids and shit. He doesn’t need to be here fixing my water heater!”

Fallon just smiles a little and stands up with you. “Babe, Greg is twenty-three and an art school dropout. I paid him like four times the usual amount for him to come. And he lives like five minutes away. Let him do this for you.”

You glare at her for just a second, trying to decipher the proud look on her face. “Fine, fine. Just-“ she squeals and gives you a kiss on your cheek, hugging you as you struggle to protect your precious dinner from the ground. “Just don’t let him fuck anything up too bad.”

“Don’t worry,” she waves her hand. “Greg’s great.”

You hope she’s right, given your snooty landlord. Fallon breaks your train of thought, though, as she speaks up once more.

“Also, uh…you don’t have to say yes-“

You brace for what she’s about to say—something you’ve heard a thousand times, but are still unsure of how to handle it.

“But I’m going to tell you again,” she pauses for a moment and waits for you to cut her off. You don’t. Neither of you attempts to meet each other’s eyes for fear “If you ever wanted to work a job at Carrington, or any company I ever own, just tell me and I’ll find an opening for you.”

“Thank you,” you finally manage. You don’t say anything else for what feels like an eternity, merely staring down at your half-finished food and letting the sounds of some random man tinkering with your water heater fill the air.

Minutes later, the man re-emerges, breaking the tender silence. When you meet his eyes, his face remains painted with the same, blank features.

Fallon, though, doesn’t miss a beat. “Router’s right behind you,” she says, gesturing with her chin. “Internet company has been blowing her off for days.”

He, still, doesn’t do anything to indicate he’s heard what your girlfriend said until he’s kneeling down to open the lower cabinet’s glass door and begins tinkering with the device. Again, awkward silence, as the nearly complete stranger hums to himself as he examines the issue.

“You’ve got a busted coax cable,” Greg says after what you feel is way too short a period of time, given how annoying the issue has been. His voice is much deeper than you expected. “Had an extra in my bag and replaced it. Should work fine now.”

Fallon’s “thanks” overlaps with your more enthusiastic “thank you so much!” as she gets up to pay him. You continue your silence, listening more than watching the interaction and subsequent “let me walk you out” despite the front door being just a few steps away.

“I think there are new episodes out of that bartending show you like,” she says when she returns, looking for the remote as she sits down. “Wanna watch?”

You nod, just grateful that you can connect to Netflix again. You also remember, as she sifts through your “currently watching” list, that Fallon does not like the bartending show very much. She called it “too flashy” once (a beautiful hypocrisy, coming from her), and doesn’t like one of the judges.

You know most of the world doesn’t see this version of Fallon. They get the version of Fallon she wants them to see—the mean, bitchy one who’d rather commit murder than be wrong or humiliated or underhanded. The Fallon who looks pristine and never has so much as a nail out of place. The Fallon who will buy out an entire company just because an executive laughed at her outfit. You’re sure this is the Fallon they want to see as well. Someone mean taking you down is one thing, but someone kind? That’s a whole other.

“What are you smiling about?” She meets your eyes for a few fleeting moments before looking back at the TV.

“Nothing in particular,” you say. You don’t want to make her uncomfortable, you know she’s a little insecure about how other people see her. That’s okay, though. You’re fine keeping this version of her to yourself. “Just that I love you.”

She smiles back, kissing you on your nose before readjusting on the couch. “Good, because I love you, too.”

#fallon carrington x reader #fallon carrington fic #fallon carrington #lukis writes stuff #lukis does commissions

[nkn0va]

I'd like to request some litchi relationship hcs possibly with a reader that gets hurt a lot and ends up at her clinic.

BLAZBLUE ASK LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO

Holy fuck I ended up making this a long ass post for just one character, Jesus Christ. Blazblue just does that to me I guess lmao, especially since it's my first post for it. Hope you enjoy, this was a ton of fun to do.

Obviously for the sake of this ask, Litchi didn't have any romantic attraction to Roy. She's trying to save a friend from a horrific fate.

Litchi Faye-Ling

-The two of you first met when Litchi joined Sector Seven, you were working under Kokonoe just like her and Roy, but instead of a scientist working in the lab like them you were one of the professor's field agents.

-Just like everyone else you quickly started picking up on Roy going insane. Then the whole ordeal happened when he fell into the Boundary, came out as...whatever the fuck that thing was, and Litchi soon left. She really didn't want to leave you, but she felt as if she needed to go save Roy.

-As much as it hurt, you respected her wishes, and the two of you promised to see each other again someday.

-Fast forward to after the Ikaruga Civil War ended, and you're out doing field work for Kokonoe in Kagutsuchi. You're confronted by some NOL officers that tell you a level D alert has been enacted in the city due to rumors of the criminal known as the Grim Reaper being here and that you're to leave immediately.

-Naturally you stand your ground. You're on a mission for Kokonoe and frankly you don't wanna find out the consequences of failing. A battle inevitably breaks out, you barely manage to get out of that shitshow, though not without a healthy dose of wounds.

-You honestly have no idea where you are at this point, however you see a building nearby that looks like a clinic. Seeing nowhere else to go, you take the liberty of inviting yourself in, holding your side in an attempt to hold back the bleeding.

-Imagine the surprise on both yours and Litchi's faces when you come through the door. Once the shock subsides it quickly turns into confusion and then worry once she sees the state you're in.

-You're probably out of commission for at least a couple weeks, and once Litchi makes sure you're not going to die, the anxiety calms down. It's been quite a while since you two last saw each other, so you have a good time catching up. What has Litchi been doing since she left? How'd she end up here starting a clinic while following Roy? How are Tager and Kokonoe doing?

-Soon you're deemed healed enough to leave, however being a field agent for someone like Kokonoe of all people it's only a matter of time before you find yourself trudging back to the small clinic out in Orient Town.

-With each passing visit Litchi only worries more and more for you. Eventually old feelings start to resurface and she realizes exactly where this worry stems from.

-One day you get a bit too brash and come back with particularly bad injuries, ones that could've potentially been fatal. you barely make through the door of clinic before passing out. Upon finally waking up you receive a pretty good scolding from the doctor about you needing to be more careful. Is it just you or does there seem to be a small hint of color on her face...?

-Once she finally calms down you confront her about it. It was really a simple question of her seeming more worried than usual, yet it's enough to make her freeze up. Eventually she knows she can't hide the truth anymore, and finally reveals what she's been feeling ever since your days at Sector Seven together.

-Being taken aback that such a kind, smart, and drop-dead gorgeous woman felt that way about you, you are more than happy to return her affections.

-Being a doctor, Litchi naturally feels the urge to take care of you. There may or may not be some naughty thoughts going through both your heads about a "thorough examination" lmao.

-This is the kind of woman you should wish to have. Being as stubborn as she is in saving Roy, that kind of loyalty will naturally be extended to her partner. She will risk it all for you if it means keeping you safe. You will not find a more dedicated and loyal partner than her.

-A relationship with her would be...a work in progress. There's a fair bit of emotional baggage on her part especially due to her mission in saving Roy. Though having known Roy yourself you're more than willing to help out in anyway you can. Whether that's through your field expertise, helping her test out some new method you might find of pulling someone out of the Boundary, trying to squeeze whatever info you can from Kokonoe without revealing your intentions, or just in general acting as emotional support You're there for her just as much as she is for you when it matters.

-Overall, a relationship with Litchi is extremely fulfilling in every possible way as long as both of you put in the work, and I mean every possible way. I'll leave that part up to your imagination...

#blazblue #blazblue x reader #litchi faye ling #relationship headcanons #headcanon #x reader #anon ask #answered

[shallyne]

Feysand Week Day 3

Feyre grimaced after taking her second shot of the evening, making Mor and Cassian giggle. The party was in full swing by now and both of her friends are set on getting Feyre drunk. "It's your birthday!" they are telling her, "You're free!"

She supposed she was and she supposed she should celebrate her freedom after leaving Tamlin. Yes, Feyre knew they were right but she wasn't into celebrating her birthdays, she never found them important enough after a childhood full of forgotten birthdays. Cassian and Mor wanted to show Feyre the magic of birthday parties but if getting drunk was the best way? She doubted it. Feyre shook her head, catching a glimpse of the poster that her friends hung up for the party. "Can we take this down now?" Feyre asked, pointing to her mugshot.

Mor laughed as Cassian replied, "Absolutely not! This day needs to be remembered forever!"

"It's been almost six years!" she told them, suppressing a smile.

Mor slapped her hand on the table in a mock gesture, "I don't know why you want to forget! You were fully in your right to punch Ianthe in the face. She deserved it! Embrace it, bestie!"

Feyre rolled her eyes, "I didn't punch her! It was a slap!" she told her as the song that blasted out of the speakers came to an end, and a new one started. Cassians gaze fell behind Feyre and he stood up.

"My brother is here! I'll be back Ina sec."

Feyre nodded as Mor filled her shot glass again, "Don't look like that, only that one. I know you don't like celebrating your birthday, Feyre, so let's celebrate how far you've come since you left you're toxic hometown." she pushed one glass towards Feyre and raised the other, "To my friend who I am very proud of!"

Feyre huffed, blinking away tears, and they clinked their glasses. She threw back that shot as Cassian stopped back at their table, "Feyre, may I introduce you to Rhysand?"

"You may," she replied, fixing the cheap plastic crown on her, "It's nice to meet y-" she stopped as she locked eyes with a male who was beautiful beyond reason, smiling at her with his hands in his pockets. Feyre swallowed, she recognized him. From her memories, from her dreams. She had thought she had him much more beautiful in her memories because she was under the influence of alcohol back then but her memories didn't even come close to the man standing before her. "I– I know you!" she blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows in question, a smile tugging at his beautiful lips. "Oh?"

"Yup!" Feyre giggled, a wave of happiness rolling over her, "You arrested me at Rita's six years ago! In Velaris!" she exclaimed so loudly over the music that heads turned her way. She ignored them, scooting to the side to make room for him. "Sit down, officer...uh..."

"Rhysand." he told her, sitting down. Cassian took the seat across from them and her friends watched them in amusement. "But please call me Rhys."

"Okay, officer Rhys," he opened his mouth but Feyre kept talking, "How is it going? Still a cop?"

"I–yes, I am." he replied, taking a drink from Mor. "What about you? I heard you're an artist."

"Indeed, I am." Feyre straightened proudly, "I am working with Ressina and I went to art school in New York." she nodded to herself, "You must train a lot as a cop. You definitely look like you do."

Amusement danced in his eyes, "A few times a week." he replied.

"Cool, cool, cool," she said, "Very impressive. Must be hard, I couldn't do that. I mean I could if I wanted to but I don't."

Rhys chuckled, "It's not for everyone." Feyre nodded in agreement. He leaned back in his seat, relaxed, "Do you do commissions?"

"Why? Do you want one?" Feyre asked, brushing a fleck of invisible dust from her jeans. "I can give you my number and we can talk about specifics tomorrow if–"

"If?" Rhys asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Feyre leaned forward, pointing to the group of people who danced, "If you dance with me, officer Rhys."

Rhys smiled brightly, "It would be an honor, Feyre darling." he laughed softly, extending his hand. Feyre took it, following him into the crowd of people.

The next morning Feyre woke up with a message from an unknown number.

>> Hey, it's Rhys

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feysandweek2023 #Feysandweek #feysand week #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre #feyre darling #rhysand #rhys #high lord rhysand #rhysand archeron #rhys acotar #high lord of the night court #feysand #acotar fanfiction #acotar drabble #feysand fanfiction #Feysand drabble #feysand fluff

[reneethekraken]

What a Doll

Being an office rep at the Revision of Hero Society comes with costs, talking to everyone and trying to not make an enemy out of the wrong ones. Somehow this means becoming business partners/ Frenemies/Pining lovers with Backugou and Kirishima. Though, Gangsters, they know everything about their community and these people are still people, and it's your job to help them. Being so young and running for office means being bullied by the older members of the Pro Hero society and eventually being pushed to the company, laying her off and leaving her alone with her thoughts. Shutting everyone out for weeks before finally leaving to party with Mina for a bit and when she sees Bakugou in the bar she dashes leaving her purse and keys on the bar counter. And of course, seeing her he follows her taking her keys with him.

WARNINGS: Angst, emotional, Bakugou doesn't realize how mean he is because Kirishima likes it, Reader is soft asf, Bakugou is definitely still an asshole. Blank blogs and ageless blogs DNI

PAIRING: Bakugou x reader, suggestive kiribaku x reader

WORD COUNT: 1.5k 

A/n: constructive criticism is always appreciated

This is ridiculous. I couldn't think of a sillier way to go home than this one. Walking slower than my thoughts so I can keep up with myself and not throw my eyes over my left shoulder. My feet are sore from the jacked up heels, my blouse is too wet from my urgency to have a good time and my pants are too thin as the wind blows around me on this street. All while my car slowly rides to the left of me.

He's mocking me, he has to be

He mocked my choices trying to tell me that he's already won. I don't know what to say because the thought of speaking to him brings tears to my eyes and my throat gets so tight I want to die.

I’ll never be prepared.

I'll never be able to stand up to them. Even on the days, everyone thinks I have them right where I want them, a board full of pieces that I've already accounted for. They'll never understand that the two of them are the ones who drew up the board. It's greedy, to have someone who shares similar ideas as me yet degrades my every move

“That was a selfish decision. You would have done better writing up your damn think pieces and putting them in a burn book instead of slathering your name all over an unfinished piece that makes you look like a lousy piece of uptown nobility. I don't live here but you all are making a ruckus and it makes me feel bad that I get to sit in my highrise and even look at ya.”

“If I was on the board you would have been put out the commission a long time ago, fixing my city yet telling me how’re gonna take my job, drink my coffee, and fuck my wife all before noon.” 

That's a sick way to live, miss board member, good plan. Even better spokesperson. The Daughter of mass Mutiny comes from the 3rd and last gang in the U.S. and yet she sits here in the Commissioner's office thinkin’ she's better than me. That title doesn't negate that if I wanted you and your bright ideas I'd take I’d still side with the very office that's shooting down every punch you make. And when you're beaten down thinking there's nothing else you could do, I’d give you my hand and let you realize there's nothing ever you'd be able to do in my city without my okay.

“You're lucky he sees something in you otherwise we wouldn't be friends, Doll.” 

Always had that same condescending tone as he called me about whatever decision I publicly made. Most of them were good ones; he was literally just a hater. 

“Did good out there today Doll, real good. Eiji and I are real proud of the progress ya making in sectors 7-9 keep that up and maybe I won’t have to berate ya every other day. Don't get too comfortable though Yakato is speaking wi-”

On the rare days I did get a good call he always managed to put his stamp on it. And sometimes even when he talked down on me I sat there and took it with wet panties and bated breath ready to hear him be soft with me again right before he stamped it.

Friends?!? Friends, I wouldn't even bat an eye if he choked tomorrow! In fact, I would be the first in line!  Until he knew exactly what it felt like to have his entire life's work spit on and shredded because of it being work of public relations community service logs. He's greedy and he won’t have me, because that's all it’ll take for him to win. Presenting me to his partner like a Christmas present. Popping champagne while I sit there naked and waiting for orders like all the other sick fucks that follow behind them as they need them.

I don't need them. But I do need him to get the hell out of my car. Maybe that's why I put my pride aside, I tried not to let my tears show and my anger release through my words.

Teeth clenching and eyes lowered into the passenger window, “What do you want Bakugou, why the hell are you following me late at night? You know stalking is a crime, correct?”

“It is if there's proof and your life is endangered. It could be from someone else looking to have a lucky night with a lady walking on the side of the road at 2 am looking like a call girl.” He smiled, put the car in park, and opened his door slowly. Standing over the side of the vehicle like he wanted more, needed it. “Nobodies seen ya in 3 weeks. We all thought that Having to step down from the board made ya yoke. I was hoping it had not.” He said the last part softer but that boyish grin never left.

“ It’s temporary.”

“What?”

“My decision to step down from the board is temporary and if it runs till November I’ll resign and apply again.” I was closer now to the passenger side. I wanted to show him that he didn't own me and that he didn't scare me.

“Always the fighter. Did you not have time to come see us before ya left?”

“I came because Mina said I could have a good time, I left because I was ready to go.” He sucked his teeth hearing my quick retort.

“You're hurting my feelings, thought we were friends?” He slowly rounded the car, stopping in front of the hood to play with the radiator grill.

“YOU and Kirishima are not my friends, were business partners who come together to correct hero society on blue moons-

“Then I’d say we've had more blue moons than the smurfs”

“I'm trying to be serious and professional and you're making it hard for me.”He was in front of me now and I couldn't help but look past his neck. I wasn't strong. I let the media get the best of me and the hero community. I let Bakugou and Kirishima’s backhanded compliments and weird pinning throw me off my game and accept my resignation, no temporary relief of position. He was too close, his collared button down hiding the swirly black ink of his gang insignia. The ring holder chain held a ring with opal on it. I wondered what my ring would look like next to Kirishima's

 “I don't need you rubbing my failures- I lost and because of me the city and its people will be without someone advocating for them, all of them. Someone who cares about them. WHO WANT THE BEST FOR EVERYONE EVEN IF IT MEANS DISMANTLING THE VERY SAME SYSTEM THAT KEEPS THEM SAFE BECAUSE IT ALSO KEEPS OTHERS IN SITUATIONS THAT LEAVE THEM WITHOUT.

The Tears fell and I was finally looking at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. I pushed his chest, again and again, and again. “And you were nowhere to be found, NEITHER OF YOU AND I

 CALLED AND PLEADED AND CALLED AGAIN AND MY SO-CALLED FRIENDS WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.”

He grabbed my arms and pinned them to my side as I cried, into his shirt, into his skin, holding onto the very fabric that held the man that I swear I hated “I know and I’m sorry. Some things were more important at that moment–”

With a croaky voice and a tighter grip, I asked what I always wanted, always needed, needed to know from him.“Am I not enough? Am I not important enough to come to the rescue? Are my problems not satisfactory on your list of important shit that needs to be tended to. What about my feelings?” He hugged me tight and sighed into my hair. “ You won ya know.”

“I didn't wanna win, I wanted to make you work hard, I promise I just wanted to prepare you for what was out there. If I coulda I woulda been on the first flight back to help but I couldn't and were sorry, Doll. Eiji is waiting for us at the house. You want me to drop you home or do you want to stay the night at ours because I swear–”

“I wanna see him too, I’m tired of this runaround. Are we friends, are we enemies, our business partners on the occasion when both sides of the coin retire us to some janky place to drink scotch? Are we pining after each other? I Don't know what we are or how we're gonna make,” I point to the space in between us, “work but I’d like to see where it goes just lessen up all that damn bark. I’m sensitive.”

He pecked the top of my head and opened the passenger door for me. Jogging over to the other side. He threw on some random radio station and put the car in drive.

 “Okay.” 

Please please reblog if you like it so I can get feedback, and find things others like to read so I produce more content! 🥰

#bakukiri x reader #kiribaku x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #Reneewrites:p

[d1stract-and-daydream]

You Made it Easy(Nikolai Lantsov x F!Inferni!Reader)

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Reader looks back to all the time her life had been entwined with Nikolai's.

It's easy to like Nikolai Lantsov.

You remember the first time you met the golden-haired prince. They tested you for your abilities the same day as your brother. Both Summoners, like your parents. You were 10—bright, curious, and very, very lost. Turns out you've inherited your father’s terrible sense of direction, too. 

You bumped into this boy while looking for your way to combat training. 

Your brother had already settled himself into the typical Summoner clique, so you often had to wander the halls of the Little Palace alone. The boy had invited you to join in on a prank—till this day you still haven’t figured out who was on the receiving end of those dreadful stink bombs—and the rest is history. 

Almost everyone likes Nikolai. Even when they don’t, there’s at least one thing that makes him salvageable in the eyes of the utmost spiteful. For you, that redeemable quality is that he pays attention. To you, to everyone. Even to the guards who frequently patrol the palace. He remembers details about their family. Knows when their birthday is. He never misses yours. 

Every year, you can expect a personalized gift from him—usually relating to what you were into in that particular period—and he never disappoints. 

One of your favourites: a commissioned painting of a crescent moon gilded by multicolored stars. 

“For your collection,” he explained, beaming. You have always loved the night sky, and consider constellations more magical than your ability to control fire.

His gifts littered the shelves in your bedroom and filled up the space in your heart.

“You keep surpassing yourself,” you mentioned to him one day, “If you keep this up, you’ll have to bring me the moon by the time I turn 25.” 

You were serious, but all he did was laugh and say, “how else am I going to compensate you for all the times you had to deal with me?”

Your eyebrows arched, lips pursed. There is truth in that. You think back to the multiple times he asked you to light something on fire, calling you his little inferni, like a cute pet name is enough to get you out of punishment. Then he continued — and you remember his words as clear as day — “I'd bring you the moon if I have to.”

How can you not like him? He was the only one to ever make you laugh until you struggled to breathe. When he enters a room, even the dull yellows of the wall become a burst of vivid sunshine. He cares. He notices. Even when you try to hide parts of yourself—the good and the bad, he notices. 

You remember the day you received news of your brother’s death. Remember the crushing feeling as the air was punched out of your lungs. Running to a secluded part of the gardens surrounding the Little Palace for a space, any space, to process. No one knew what happened yet, but Nikolai knew. Somehow, he had read your face and figured out what happened. He was by your side as you fell to your knees, your blue Kefta dirtied by soil. You let yourself fall into the crook of his elbow, your tears leaving indigo blobs on his favourite pale blue jacket. 

Even after that—weeks, months after—he’ll still drop whatever he was doing to pull you aside and whisper “you okay?” when he’d catch your eyes glazed over by a memory. 

As much as he was there for you—you were there for him, too. 

You recall days of toiling under the sun together on Dominik’s family farm. Mitkin’s approach to getting Nikolai to behave still angers you to this day, but it brought Dominik into your lives. 

That day, the infamous duo becomes a trio, although the number of shenanigans has dwindled. You have no qualms about it though, as you spent more and more time with Nikolai—and as you grew older—the amount of gossip concerning the nature of your friendship with him had grown too. You hated the idea of having to be separated from him because of a couple of blabbermouths, so you were relieved the day the universe introduced Dominik to the both of you. Plus, you can always count on him to pull the reins on Nikolai every now and then. You know, for when his hands are itching for some trouble.

You often reminisce about that one snowy day during the feast of Sankt Nikolai. Nikolai claimed that the celebration was for him, and thus the three of you were to put on your best disguise so you can explore the towns like normal kids with normal lives. Dominik was reluctant, saying that he didn’t want to be the third wheel, but you told him it was more like being bodyguards to the prince with a penchant for mischief. Nikolai treated you and Dom to all the sweets you can eat, so it was worth having to babysit him. That day ended with the three of you in the palace garden, huddled by a bonfire and scaring each other with made-up ghost stories.

Alas—your trio didn’t last. Vasily caught you returning from the farm on one fine evening and—despite your effort in trying to convince him that it was your idea—they barred Dominik from ever entering the palace ever again. It didn’t stop you or Nikolai from going out of your way to help Dominik and his family, though you can definitely feel the space in your friendship when he left.

The year he went away with Dominik to serve in the First Army, you recalled nights of ink-stained fingers. Exchanged letters piled up in your night desk drawer. The emptiness was growing too rapidly for the letters to fill. You missed him. You yearn for his presence, his laugh, the glint in his eyes when he’s thinking of something devious. He was your best friend—your oldest friend. You kept his scribbly I wish you were heres tucked neatly into your brain, and pulled it out whenever you needed a reason to keep going. But it was not enough. It was never enough.

You put in a request to be stationed at the camp right before the Sikurzoi, hoping for a distraction. That year, both you and Nikolai experienced the trauma of battle. You lose someone as easily as you met them. Eventually, you grow weary of forming new connections, and each loss adds an extra layer of brick to your walls. It’s true what they say, war changes you. You both stopped writing to each other after news of Dominik’s death. Your days were busy witnessing destruction. 

Every day, you woke up with dread, eyes and ears attuned to any conversation regarding him. You realised that you were trying to prepare yourself for the worst, for news of the death of Ravka’s beloved prince. It was the loneliest moment of your life.

When the Darkling terrorized Ravka, you knew you had to go back and help protect Os Alta soon. That’s what you have trained for, anyway. You’ve also heard the words that Nikolai Lantsov has returned. Following the news,you arrange for a carriage back as soon as you can, eager to return to your warm bed in the little palace—and to Nikolai. There are so many things you wanted to tell him. The breathtaking views of the mountain. The back pain you develop from sleeping on hard ground. The blood on your hands. The nightmares. Then you stop yourself. What if Nikolai had forgotten about you?  

On your third day back, you didn’t expect to see Nikolai—you were sure that he was too busy playing house with the Sun Summoner—still with that shine in his eyes. He looks a little battle-hardened, but the rest of his personality seemed intact. You approached him with small hesitant steps, ready to turn around just in case your presence was intruding.

He turned to you, and his lopsided smile waters the garden in you that you thought was long dead. How did he do that?

Still, a part of you was a little mad that he didn’t return immediately after his service in the army ended. You waited for him, expecting his return—even started writing back to him again—and all you got was silence. The least he could do was send you a pigeon.

You gave him a small smile, not sure how to emote the tumultuous feelings he stirred within you. 

“Not happy to see me?” He asked. You opened your mouth to answer, and suddenly all those months of pushing shit down resurfaces. He was always there, and then he wasn’t. You thought he was your friend, but he left you hanging. Not a single word in 3 years. You thought he was dead. Tears threatened to spill, and you retreated away from Nikolai’s open arms. “Sweetheart?” Nikolai called out to you, his voice dampened by your shallow breathing. 

You ran, as quick as your legs could go, and before realising it, found that you had returned to that very same place where Nikolai had first comforted you. Only at that moment, you were sure no one was going to be there for you. You were on your knees once more, and this time you had planned to crawl into the earth beneath you and let it swallow you whole. The screams of the enemy and your fellow soldiers threaten to pull you apart limb by limb when you feel arms encircling you in a tight embrace. You registered Nikolai’s smell — that woodsy scent that you have always found comforting — hung onto it like it was your lifeline, convinced that you would crumble into ashes if you were to let him go.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. You remembered feeling droplets on your hair. “I should not have left you alone.” 

You still smile when you recall him stroking your cheeks, calloused hands gentle against your skin. You replay that day again and again to ground yourself instead of letting your past gnaw at your sanity. Turns out, falling in love with Nikolai is as easy as liking him. 

You made a promise to always be there for each other no matter what hell you were going through. You supported him as he aimed to prove his worthiness for the Ravkan throne. “The country needs saving,” he declared, on one starless night, when you were both by the lake, cheeks warmed by Ravkan liquor. You nodded in reply, but to tell the truth, you were way more focused on the way the light from your flames bounced in his eyes—making them seem more golden than green. Your hands flex involuntarily, wanting to trace his jaw with your fingers, and you lick your lips at the thought of tasting the liquor from his. You regretted not doing that when you had the chance. 

The both of you fought for your country together with what’s left of the Grisha. You let him hide his face in your arms when he felt that he failed to protect his people from another attack. He lost Vasily. Lost his soldiers. Lost Ravkan lives, and that hit him the hardest. You told him it was not his fault—that he didn’t plan for an ambush to happen. He can’t save everyone. You know very well that when people depend their lives on you, every death takes its toll on your humanity. So you made sure to always be there for Nikolai, side by side, just as you did many years ago.

One memory you hold dear to you is the night Nikolai invited you for a test run aboard the Kingfisher. It was your first time being so high up in the sky, and your heart still flutters when you remember the feel of Nikolai’s warm hand on the small of your back, rubbing small circles of reassurance. “I wanted to bring the stars closer to you,” he told you, and you remember your heart thumping in your ears, feeling your insides swell until something was about to burst. This is why loving Nikolai is so easy.

You were there to witness the Darkling infecting him with his nichevo’ya, watching as his eyes go from brilliant hazel to an abyss black. Like Alina, you believed that he could still be saved, and you never once gave up hope.

“Your side, always,” you had told him time and time again, and each time he'd reply with a straight “Always.” 

That had been the essence of your relationship with him, a friendship that can last a lifetime. 

Still, you had to brace yourself with the idea of losing him—but you were a soldier. You’ve dealt with loss before. You had no time to grieve then, and you planned to push all that down until after the Darkling had been defeated. That was how you had always dealt with it when there was no one there. But Nikolai had always been as lucky as he was resourceful, and he somehow managed to return to his country unscathed. 

One night—sometime after the Fold had been destroyed—you woke up to strangled breathing on the side of your bed. You strike your flint to light up your room and discover a ghastly creature: black eyes, talons, and ripped wings, staring at you. Then you realize—it was Nikolai. The nichevo’ya hasn’t left him. You send a ball of flame big enough to scare him away and go down immediately to report your findings to Zoya. 

Nikolai did not take the discovery well. Little by little, he retreated further away from you and trusted Zoya to attend to him. You tried to talk to him, and offer him comfort, but he busied himself with so many events that it’s hard to even get any time to ask him about it. You wanted to tell him that you weren't scared of him. That first night, you were more terrified of losing him than losing your life. Every time you passed by each other, the confident persona Nikolai had adopted around his people wavered. He stood tall still—he is a king, after all, but he never looked directly at you. You can tell by then that things will never go back to the way it was. 

You were reconciled by the fact that he has the Triumvirate to help him, and since you looked up to Zoya, you believed that he was in capable hands. He will talk to you if he’s ready. 

In the meantime, you have once again requested to be stationed somewhere away from Os Alta. Zoya came to you one day with a proposition, sending you off to Fjerda undercover to help the Hringsa with their plans. You accepted the assignment, knowing full well the danger that will follow. Still, you thought it was better this way instead of waiting around the little palace for Nikolai to come to his senses.

You watch as Zoya leaves his chambers every night, wanting to claw the pain away from your chest. You knew she was there to chain him up and keep the creature from escaping at night, but how can your heart possibly tell the difference? 

Two days before you left for Fjerda, you locked yourself in your room to pen Nikolai a heartfelt letter. Tried your best to tell him how thankful you were for all those years of warmth and friendship, and that you were sorry if you ever did anything wrong. You considered scraping it off when you see your words smudged over by tears, but found that it’s quite a fitting look for a goodbye letter. You went back and forth between wanting to tell him how you felt about him or omitting that part entirely so you won’t have to embarrass yourself. In the end, you settled for a measly paragraph, head swarming with too many thoughts to keep it coherent. He’ll understand. Or not. You’re not so sure anymore.You had planned to tell him about your feelings in person one day — but it seems like that day will never arrive. Certainly not now, not ever, when it seems like something deeper is blooming between him and Zoya. The lingering stares. Unspoken words. Moments too intimate for it to be just friends. You understand. Your heart feels like it is stabbed by jagged daggers, but you understand. It’s so easy to fall in love with Nikolai Lantsov. The only hard part is, however, watching Nikolai fall in love with someone else.

A/N: Made a new tumblr to post fics. This was initially a one-shot of friends to unrequited love but I don't like sad endings so here I am at 2 am plot lining a fic that follows Nikolai and reader(but I'll make it OC) while she's in Fjerda.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #grishaverse #zoya nazyalensky #shadow and bone #the grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix #sab #leigh bardugo #darkling shadow and bone

[writingquestionsanswered]

tips on subtle manipulation? I want it to be clear (or at least somewhat noticeable) by a reader, but not to be noticed by my main character.

Subtle Portrayal of Manipulation

Here's the problem: not everyone has the same understanding, knowledge, or experience when it comes to manipulation. So, for the same reasons your character doesn't realize they're being manipulated, some of your readers won't realize it, either. That said, you can't rely on the reader to pick up on subtle clues. You have to be clear about what's going on, but that doesn't mean the character has to realize it.

The key is to have a character who does realize what's happening and use them to clue the reader in. This can be the manipulative character themselves or a third character who witnesses these interactions. So, your portrayal is made up of three parts: -- the manipulative act -- the clueless reaction by the one being manipulated -- the knowing response by the character who realizes what's up

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Let's say Character A is clueless that they're being manipulated by Character B, and Character C has witnessed some of these manipulative interactions:

The Manipulative Act

"Oh! A, can you give me a ride to my show tomorrow night," B asked as he stood and put on his coat.

A frowned. "Sorry, I can't tomorrow night. I promised to watch my little sister so my parents could go to dinner, and they live on the other side of town. C? Can you take him?"

"No can do. I'm leaving for Boston tomorrow morning and won't be back until next Tuesday." I tried to sound sorry, but I was glad that neither one of us could bail B out this time.

"Oh. Well, no big deal," B replied, waving it off with his charming smile--the one that always made A's insides melt. "I wouldn't want you to have to drive a few minutes out of your way to save me a 30-minute walk. I'm sure the cold air will do me some good--if I don't catch a cold." He added a lilting laugh to the end that made him sound upbeat but forlorn. It made me cringe, but I could see A's wheels turning.

The Clueless Reaction

"You know what? I can just leave early and show up a little late to my parents'. They'll just have to deal with it."

"Thanks, A!" B grinned and strode out of the cafe with all the confidence of a successful conquest. A gazed wistfully after him, blissfully unaware of how she'd been played.

The Knowing Response

"Why do you let him manipulate you like that, A?"

"B? He's not manipulating me--what are you even talking about? Are we villainizing people for asking for rides now?"

I ignored her and focused on finishing my cherry cobbler. It irked me that she couldn't see what he was doing to her--what he had been doing to her for weeks now.

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Alternatively, you could have C just think about what they'd witnessed (rather than confronting A about it), have them confront B about what they're doing to A, or have them discuss the situation and their frustration with a fourth character. You may even choose a combination, or have multiple different characters in A's life who is aware of what's going on.

And, another alternative would be to have B be the one who tips off the reader through their own thoughts about A and behavior behind A's back. All that matters is that someone is cluing the reader in even while the character being manipulated remains oblivious.

I hope that helps!

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