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pupcuck · 5 months

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ROTTEN LUCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. smut, kidnapping, leon is like mentally gone icl, references to past assault and trauma, non-con, manipulation, suicidal thoughts/reference to an attempt, general leon self destructive behaviour, physical abuse, power dynamics, throatfucking, choking, breath play, somno, 1 instance of drugging, unmentioned age gap, anal, he puts duct tape on your pussy ok just once promise it’s not bad, religious references, 1 mention of vomit and piss not in a sexual way, slight misogyny, panic attack

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

anyway, please ignore typos :3 rbs and feedback is very appreciated :3 my medical knowledge sucks, so keep in mind that all of this is off LMFAO crossposted to ao3 (user clitkiss)

two

Lucky. Leon hates that word. He wasn’t lucky to get out of Raccoon City, he was just barely capable, you have to be unlucky to get into that situation in the first place. You’re a lucky guy, Redfield had told him once, Chris not Claire. Claire isn’t daft. And Leon wonders what is so lucky about him. He’s forty-six and all he’s got is his trusty Matilda, his mother’s old Bible, and a failing liver. His luck is preordained by God and it’s a total sham.

Leon Kennedy’s the one who showed up to drill sessions smelling like sweat and cock. Kennedy’s the one that rolls over onto his front and takes it like a good doggy. Kennedy’s green behind the ears, pretty in the face, and that don’t fare well in a boot camp full of men twice his size. Kennedy’s the one brushing shoulders with the President, got the USA’s most prized dick in his mouth and everyone knows that he wouldn’t dare bite down. Golden boy Leon fucking Scott Kennedy would just go ahead and use his tongue to clean up Graham’s ballsack. And you’re calling that lucky? Bullshit.

The DSO’s modus operandi is strikingly similar to that of the BSAA. He is but a cog in a well oiled machine. There’s one difference, not a dog tag to his name. If he dies, then he’ll die nameless, and he’ll be cremated by something nuclear, and it’ll all be for nothing. Ain’t that just the luckiest thing you’ve ever heard?

He has tried to kill himself once or twice or thrice. He lost count after the fifth. The gun jammed once, a bad joke. Left Matilda rendered useless. Was meant to be him, not her. And if Leon’s being honest, every day is an avid attempt, as in the drinking and praying his liver gives out. Once he managed to get halfway there. Doesn’t remember a lot. Just blood. Lots of blood. Why couldn’t you be quiet about your grief, Leon? Claire’s expression had asked, how I am, how Chris is, how Jill is.

‘Cause he couldn’t. He had to go ahead and splatter his grief all over the linoleum floor. Maybe then someone would find him, and they’d mourn him, and they’d feel sorry for him ‘cause he’d pitied himself enough. Leon told her a joke, yapping away like one of those butterscotch lapdogs. Claire said that in South Korea you’re allowed to snip a dog's vocal cords to stop them from barking. Lucky I’m not in South Korea then. She handed him an orange prescription bottle with his name scrawled on it, and that was that. They didn’t speak for a few months.

Once upon a time Sherry needed him, now he needs her more. Needs her to laugh at his jokes, she’s the only one that does. And he needs her to tell him, I love you, Leon. She’s the only one that says that. No one puts up with him like Sherry does. She puts up with him in the way most women do their fathers. Love their dads unconditionally and nothing can ever fix that. Terrible illness that is. So, yeah, Leon Scott Kennedy is far from lucky. Lonely? Oh, for sure. God. He’s so lonely he feels sorry for himself. That’s one thing Leon has always been good at though. Lending himself a shoulder ‘cause no one else will.

His fingers brush yours in the record store. The hairs on the back of his neck stand. Jesus. Is it getting that bad? Leon’s been without a fuck for a few months and he’s already itching. That’s a new low. When Leon looks up to catch sight of who made his dick swell with their fingertips, he catches your eye briefly. A mousy little thing. Easily spooked it seems by the nervous smile you give him.

You’re on the phone, I don’t know what he likes anymore, dad, yeah—I’m trying to find it—Yes, I know who sang Sex and Candy, dad, Kurt Cobain right? Is that the one he likes? Dumbass. No, I’m not wrong, could you put mom on the phone—Hi mom, yes, I know he’s my brother, mom—Ever since he turned fifteen he stopped talking to me properly—I don’t know what she thinks, mom—

A mommy, daddy, a brother, a sister too he assumes. You’re what they call lucky. Nasty undertone you’re using with your parents. If Leon’s mom was still around he’d talk to her so sweet. She’d tell him to pray and Leon wouldn’t resist. Alright, Ma, Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus Tecum— then his voice would trail off, and he’d pretend to mouth the rest of the hymn ‘cause he remembers fuck all.

He wants to knock you around. Shake you till your brains scramble. Wants you to flinch even when he’s being nice. Leon’s nostrils flare when you raise your voice in the slightest, even if it’s playful, it’s plain rude. How dare you? He can’t even begin to fathom how incredibly lucky you are. The thought crosses Leon’s mind once, twice, thrice. Just how suicide did that day back in September. If you can kidnap the President’s daughter from her bustling college campus, throw her over your shoulder like salt, why can’t you kidnap Miss Nobody from a street corner in D.C?

Your figure is distinguished by a single, flickering street lamp. He sees your shadow. Recognises the silhouette by the shapely legs and how your belted coat flares out to create a dramatic hourglass, Leon’s got a good eye for detail. Oh, it’s kinda sexy watching you in the spotlight, like a makeshift cabaret show, go on babe, bust out the flapper dress, he knows his stuff, he read Gatsby back in high school. He listens out for the tap of your heeled boots, click-clack, click-clack, there you are, you don’t even know what’s about to happen, do you? And it really is that easy. Just like throwin’ salt over your shoulder.

Temazepam, loprazolam, lormetazepam, diazepam, nitrazepam. Some melatonin too. Magnesium’s supposed to help with insomnia. How’s he supposed to know what your body reacts to best? Leon’s not your fuckin’ GP. Chloroform does the trick for everyone. Should’ve invited you out for drinks and roofied you instead.

Leon had gone for an old-fashioned method, listen, he was desperate. He doesn’t usually resort to such bruteish tactics unlike the older Redfield, not that Chris would use a morsel of his strength to harm a lady, but it had to be done. Yes, he choked you out. No, he’s not proud of it. He’s actually pretty disappointed in his lack of preparation. Oh, cut yourself some slack, Kennedy, it’s your first time kidnapping someone, and it was a heat of the moment type thing. To Leon’s dismay, that doesn’t last long, duh, he should know better.

While you regain sluggish consciousness on his couch, Leon’s tearing through his kitchen cabinets for anything to settle you down. Ah. That’s right. Ketamine. Ain’t it horse tranquilliser? What’s that doing here? Honestly, he’s got to stop raiding the infirmary for all they’ve got. A high enough dosage will knock you out for sure. If it kills you, then so be it. Beer for guys, wine for the ladies, and Ketamine for random sluts he picks up on street corners.

You’re blinking to clear your hazy vision, feeling around your crushed windpipe to assess the damage, he leans over you like a nurse from hell. The needle breaks your skin easily, so tender, before you have the chance to kick up a fuss, your eyelids turn to lead and close like a toy babydoll’s do when you lean them back.

Fifteen to twenty minutes, google says. Leon gets down to business, strips you of your clothing, takes you to his room, throws you on the king-sized bed that’s warmed only by him. He kept your panties on. They’re light blue and sensible briefs. A buzzer rings out in his head, bzzzt, boring. A million bitches in D.C. and he picked out the most vanilla one. Just his Kennedy luck ain’t it.

One minute. Leon presses his nose to the fabric of your panties, sniffs like a pig does in its trough, isn’t that just the sweetest smell? Fresh cunt. He licks up the print of your pussy, tongue landing on the hardness of your clit.

Five minutes. With your panties soaked with Leon’s spit, he decides to move ‘em to the side, and he groans in delight when he parts your cushioned lips to find that you’re stickier than toffee pudding, drooly cunt reactive to the pads of his fingers, to the tip of his tongue. He pushes back the hood of your bud, gives it a kiss, then another.

Ten minutes. He’s opened you up, gaped you around three thick fingers, Jesus, you’re so tight. It’s like your cunt’s vacuum sealed. Leon’s fingers prod at the squishy opening of your cervix, his thumb circles your clit, presses down like a button and he’s rewarded with another gush of slick. Beer on tap.

You rouse from your forced slumber at fourteen minutes. Huh. He’ll have to up the dosage next time. “Hi there, sleepin’ beauty.” Leon says in a rather cloying voice, amping up the sweetness when in reality he is less than fond of you. The lucky girl. He strokes your head soothingly, hovers over you to keep you in place. The panic sets in almost immediately, flailing limbs, asinine attempts at sentences that crawl up your throat and spill over. Who are you, get off me, get off me, please. What did I do? I’m sorry, please, let me go, let me go, please, I’ll do anything. Albeit your words are slurred, Leon chooses not to hear you.

“Aintcha just the sweetest thing?” He cups your cheeks, gaze so gentle it’s disarming. “I opened you up, didn’t wanna break ya, just wanted you to wake up before we got it on, I’m a real gentleman, you see.” Before he rapes you, he makes sure to ask: you got a rubber by any chance, sweetheart? Oh, and you don’t like that, you really don’t. ‘Cause your face falls fast like a drop tower ride.

The chance to scream is lost on you when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushes them down your burning throat till you choke and drool in an unflattering manner. Your jaw is too lax to clamp down on him. Leon takes this opportunity to smear his leaky, fat tip over your folds, pushes past the barriers of resistance and slides into your pre-gaped cunt. Lucky bitch. Lucky fucking bitch. Getting yourself a piece of Leon S. Kennedy’s dick. He reserves that for only the finest ladies, aka any girl that has a nice set of tits and dark hair, greying roots are a new preference.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, head rubbing painfully against your cervix. Bruising it from the look of discomfort on your face as you make stupid-sounding noises around his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, that hits the spot.” When’s the last time Leon had his way with a girl, wanton fucking, pulling hair, slapping— they all want it soft and sappy these days. And so did he up until a certain point. Up until he tried to kill himself maybe. Something must’ve flipped in his brain, now he’s overcome with the need to mess your pretty face up.

Leon’s forehead presses to your clammy one, your sweat is salty on his tongue when he kisses your cheek. Slightly sour scent, ugh, what’s he saying? Acting like he’s a fear-smelling B.O.W or some shit. Fuck off, Kennedy. His hips aim upwards when your body shifts due to the thrashing you’re doing, with each thrust he bottoms out with a wet squelch, rolls his hips into you at a force that knocks any chance of breath out of you.

“If you were a good girl,” Leon smiles, all teeth. They glint in the muddy darkness of his room, black-out curtains drawn so not even the moon gets to see what he’s doing to you, “then I’d be fuckin’ you real slow, real nice, rub that little clit till you came.” Your wrists are both cuffed within his grip, pinned over your head as he drives into you, as if his intention is to tear straight through you.

The heat in his gut uncoils, but he’s timed himself well enough, pulls out ‘cause god forbid he knocked you up. Knowing Leon’s luck he’d manage it. Then he puts his cock in your mouth, “I got some pliers out back.” He says in warning as he jerks the shaft and your lips hesitantly close around the tip when he gives you a mean look. Total lie by the way, no matter how abnormal Leon is he does not own a pair of tooth-pulling pliers. Shoots his load down your throat, you splutter and push at his abdomen to get him off.

He pulls out in his own time, lays beside you. All of his chakras are aligned. Apparently there’s seven, but Leon’s only got two. And they’re entirely dependent on whether he’s sucked and fucked till he’s thoroughly satisfied. By god he is. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. That’s the rest of it right. He remembers now. You might just be his saving grace, Lucky Girl. His very own Sancta Maria, Mater dei. Damn, you hear that, ma? Leon’s got it down to a T. Maybe some more pussy will get him singing out the rest of the prayer. He can get rid of that statuette on the mantle, swap it out with you.

He doesn't get a word out by the time you’re vomiting a vile mixture of acidic yellow and his seed down the front of your chest. Retching as you choke on the gift he’d given you.

Leon takes you to the bathroom, forces you into the shower cubicle as he sprays you down, not even waiting for the water to go warm. “Dry yourself off,” he gestures mildly to where there’s a few towels stored.

You don’t come back out of the bathroom for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. Don’t even answer when he knocks. Goddammit, Leon. Leave your kidnap victim alone in the room with all the razors, why don’t you? Fucking idiot. When he opens the door, you’re huddled in the corner by the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl and sitting in a puddle of your own piss. Stupid fucking baby. Is this what kids are like these days? When he was your age he made it out of Raccoon City alive, and no one made it out of there. No one lived to tell that story. And you’re here pissing your pants ‘cause he’s given you a nice, hard fucking? He pimp slaps you so hard your teeth clatter.

It takes two weeks for his Lucky Girl to be broken in. Not as long as he expected, so he’s pleased. And when Leon’s pleased, he’s nice. So today you get some screen time. You’re curled into his side, the way a baby bird does under its mother’s wing, squinting at his sixty-five inch TV, egregious really, who needs a screen that big? He’s flipping periodically through the channels whenever an ad break comes on. The 7.45PM news is on. He settles on that and you watch mindlessly, no objections.

The speech blurs like white noise to him, Leon’s not focused until your picture pops up on screen, and he just turns to you with this shit-eating grin. Graduation cap and robe on, all dolled up as you make eyes at him through the screen.

“Baby,” he grins wolfishly, ruffles your hair in a teasing manner, “you look so damn cute there!” Leon watches bright-eyed, suddenly enthralled, they list your name, your height, your weight, all stuff he actually didn’t know ‘bout you. Never bothered to ask. You don’t need a name, you’re just his Lucky Girl. “Don’t like the red lip on you,” he comments flippantly, “A red lip is for whores, don’t you think, baby?”

He was right. You got a daddy, a mommy, a brother and a sister. You’ve got it all. Lucky fucking Girl. A broken sob is torn from your throat, jagged and scratchy as you fling yourself halfway across the room, on your knees as you put your grubby fingers all over his shiny screen. Leon lets you. He finds it hilarious actually. Who’d you think you are? Carol Anne from Poltergeist? Like you’re gonna get sucked into the screen, crawling out the other end like Sadako, back into your daddy’s arms.

Our daughter—My girl, she had her whole life ahead of her—My sister wouldn’t do this—She was so excited to move on after graduation—She’s not the type to run away—My daughter—My sister—Our sister—

Your mother is a mess, barely able to get words out with the way she’s blubbering. “She’s layin’ it on a bit thick, don’t you think, babe?” Leon picks up his beer from the side table, slightly heated under the burn of the lamp. “You look like your daddy, cry pretty like your mama though.”

You stare at him horrified. Jaw hanging open as if it’s unhinged, not in the way a snake does when ready to swallow its prey whole. More in the way of a screaming corpse. When the rigor mortis has worn off, secondary flaccidity sets in, and the mandible drops open. Jeez, tough crowd tonight it seems. Don’t make him sew your mouth up, Lucky Girl. Leon wouldn’t dare, that mouth, that throat is precious to him.

CCTV footage plays on the screen, another sob racks your brittle frame, you didn’t know it was him that day, Leon realises. “Oh, baby, that’s where we met, ain’t that funny?” A blurry image of you on the phone, prattling away to your family like the Lucky Girl you are, he’s just out of shot.

We miss her—Please, if you know anything, if you find anything—Please—

“God, let me get my phone, darling, they look so upset I can’t stand it. I might have to call them up and turn myself in. Give ‘em an early Christmas gift, don’t you think?” If Leon went missing, who would look for him? Hunnigan with all her sharp edges, or Claire with her unwilling loyalty to him? Lucky Bitch. It’s making his temper flare, that’s enough TV time for today.

The screen fades out, goes black when he switches it off. “No, no, no,” you chant, “no, no, no, no, please, please—“

“I’m disappointed in you, baby.” Leon says honestly, sips his beer and laughs mirthlessly. “I thought you’d started to like me.”

You’re not listening, too busy fitting on the rug, grasping at the screen as if you can pluck your family out of it and reunite with them on his living room floor. Leon did think you were getting used to him though. Family’s family, blood is thicker than water. Cum is also thicker than water. And that’s what he’s pumped down your throat nightly in hopes of it clogging up your brain, so you think of nothing but him. Those dogs in South Korea, the ones Claire told him about, he’s got his own special method to take care of your vocal cords. No snipping, no surgery needed. Just the throat training method.

“C’mere, lucky girl.” He clicks his tongue as if he’s calling out for a dog. You lay unmoving, rocking back and forth, whispering to yourself like a crazy person. Bit creepy. Leon stands, he grabs you by the hair and drags you to sit at his feet near the couch. Simple and effective. Backhands you for good luck. He needs it. “Stop your cryin’ I’m getting sick of it.” Leon says, brows wrinkled as he lowers his sweats, brings your head down to rest on his thigh. Your tear-stained cheeks turn him on, the doleful eyes, runny nose. It’s hot. His sad little girl.

“Suck it.” Leon taps the tip against your pouty lips, swollen from his earlier kisses, coats them in his pearly pre, “I won’t ask twice, sweetheart.” You open your mouth, take him like clockwork. He don’t like that attitude. So he pushes your head down on his cock, watches your throat bob, uncomfortably full. Leon pinches your nose, listens to how you panic so nice around a mouthful of dick, gagging in a way you never have before. Not a gag that indicates inexperience, but one that is full of sheer terror, nails leaving red marks on his thighs as you drag them down his skin. Ouch. He’s gotta trim those down.

“You get it now, babe?” Leon hums, he lets you off this time, “Do what I say and it’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Leon,” you nod furiously through gulps of air, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” Fuck. Another one of your panic attacks. He’s not got the patience to deal with this. “I won’t—“ A wheeze, “ I won’t do it—“ A croak, “I won’t do it again.” You’ve learned to handle yourself. Rub your chest with your right hand, stare at the ceiling till you calm down. Leon’s dick is still rock hard. Ready to crack open a walnut.

“Good girl,” he nods, “then get on with it.”

There is nothing you’ve done in particular to set Leon off. He’s just had a bad day. Hunnigan’s senses are much too acute, she thought something was off with him. That put him on edge. So he’s like a ticking time bomb. Just waiting for you to make one wrong move. And you do. You say no to him, pleadingly so, shaking your head as you look at him with your fairytale fawn eyes. Meekly admit that you’re sore and achy and it hurts.

“That’s not your decision to make, sweetheart.” Leon informs you, he grabs a roll of duct tape from the kitchen, nicks at the edge with his teeth and tears a strip off. You bristle, completely still, a thousand thoughts running through that pea-sized brain of yours. “But I’ll be nice today, been waitin’ to fuck your ass anyway.” He puts the strip on your cunt, over your chubby lips to hold them together, it feels strange and icky. The last thing Leon wants to see is blood. He sees enough of that daily. So he’s generous when it comes to prep, busts out the cherry-flavoured lube today, squirts a decent amount on his fingers, cock, and your tighter hole.

You squirm, he watches the unreadable expression on your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest. You’re nervous, but you’re wet, and that makes his chest swell in pride. Lucky Girl finally gets it. One finger slips past the ring of tight muscle, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, there’s one last line he’s missing. It’ll come to him. Two fingers in, he scissors you open, spits on it just ‘cause it turns him on to see it run down your crack.

That’s enough, Leon thinks when he fits the third. He wants to make it hurt a little. Wants to feel like a big, strong man. He sits back on his knees, flips you over onto your front, he likes you this way. Just takes you in, how your tits hang low, brushing against the mattress when Leon presses a hand down on your back to keep you from arching. He takes his dick in hand and in he goes, easier than he thought. He wonders if you can cum just like this, with his dick pounding your ass.

He fucks like an animal, you gasp and yelp below him, unable to handle it as his hips smack against yours. The duct tape is starting to peel ‘cause your pussy is fucking soaked. That alone makes his balls tighten as he turns you back over to do damage control, and ‘cause he wants to see your face while he fucks. You look like you’re lovin’ it. Alright. So you’re an anal slut. Got it. He pushes back into your ass, groans when you clench around him, the duct tape peeling at the corners, he can’t handle it. Et in hora mortis nostrae. Leon’s mind blanks when he cums, fills your ass and his limp cock slips out. Shit. A-fucking-men. That’s right, he remembers. That’s how you end a prayer.

You don’t cum. He tears the duct tape off clean. You let out a loud ‘Ow, Leon!’ and frown at him. Beads of arousal stick to the piece of tape, your pussy is pulsing, walls fluttering around nothing. Leon kisses your swollen clit, rubs it steadily till you cream on his tongue, sweeter than molasses his Lucky Girl is.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” You tell him shyly, gaze at him with this dumb fucking smile on your dollface that makes his heart squeeze. God, he’s gotta keep you around, his lucky charm.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x reader

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magnusbae · 3 months

Note

If you're interested, here's a prompt from the ones who just shared:

"Then why did you do it?" "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

No rush hehe I hope you get rest and have fun writing this!

Now, see, I could have taken this as an open prompt and went with something else, but I know you like dreamling and so I was good.

Thanks for the prompt dear! 💖 Also special thanks goes to @cuubism for actually going through it 🌻🌻🌻 any mistakes are me ignoring her wisdom or straight up forgetting to edit it. one of the two.

Dreamling - some flavor of hurt/comfort(?) 'you dare?' kind of situation going on there, 1,394w

▾▾▾

“I cannot fathom why—”

Dream halts mid-sentence, his outrage rendering him speechless for a precious moment in which Hob tries, fruitlessly, to come up with a way to placate him, to explain in a way that will somehow pass as acceptable to Dream. The betrayal is tangible in the air, so charged that Hob’s hair actually stands on end as if from static. It feels like standing at your front door, still safe but seeing the hurricane on the horizon, knowing that this false safety can and will change in moments. Hob cannot think of a single thing.

“You.” Dream grits his teeth so tightly that they scrape loudly, the sound of it making Hob’s own teeth ache uncomfortably. “Know.” Dream says each word as if it takes a great burden to even use human speech and not simply burn a hole in Hob’s mind. Given Dream’s past record, which Hob had recently learnt of, perhaps it does. “You know I do not ask.”

“I know.” Hob winces.

There’s no denying that he knew. Knew full well that asking Dream’s sibling for help was a guaranteed way to not only outrage him, but also land Hob a very creative punishment and the end of their long friendship.

He knew that, and did it anyway.

Would again, if he had to.

He will not apologize for that.

Dream seems to come to the same conclusion, cheeks reddening in a surprising display of humanity, of lack of control over his appearance. The darkness that creeps into his eyes is distinctly not human. Hob shudders but fixes his eyes on Dream’s, refusing to avert his eyes like a reprimanded youth. He did what he did, and he’s not sorry.

''Then.” To Hob’s surprise, Dream seems to level himself, to school the darkness out of his eyes and ask with a calm that is somehow more unnerving than his rage. “Why did you do it?" There is a finality to this question, like a judge asking for one last confession to tip the scale one way or another. There will be judgment at the end of it, Hob knows.

“Because…” he sucks in a breath, there’s a ball of nerves in his stomach and frustration, surprising him with its intensity, it feels almost like anger.

Why is he here, searching for excuses for something he believes in wholeheartedly? He doesn’t want to learn firsthand of Dream’s notorious pettiness but he’s not here to play these sort of games.

The outraged huff is stuck in his throat— he didn’t even realize he had raised his voice this much, not until the ring of it strains his ears. He is practically shouting. And he doesn’t care.

''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.''

There’s anger in it, frustration, a measure of desperation.

“I bloody love you more than I fear you, that’s why.” His own cheeks burn, itch, tingle with the indignation of it all. “Because I’m a besotted fool who would make a pact with the devil if I had to, if it meant helping you.” He gestures curtly at Dream, then spreads his arm in an exaggerated motion of question. “Why else? Seriously, why else?!” He stops at that, breathing harshly. This is not how he had imagined, not even close. Fuck it. And fuck Lucifer, too. And Dream’s all too pleased sibling, on top.

Through his outburst Hob had stopped paying attention to Dream’s face, only his eyes, latching onto them as if they were his anchor in this universe, the only constant thing, in life, in this.

When he finally looks, really looks, he realizes with a start that Dream’s cheeks are no longer red with anger, that his eyebrows are not as tightly knitted, that his pale lips form a small and lax ‘o’.

His friend looks taken aback, pacified and…surprised.

Like he couldn’t fathom this being the reason for Hob’s supposed betrayal of trust. Like this was the last rationale he had expected to hear, like he, an Endless being of incomprehensible wisdom, is unable to conceive this simple truth. Like he’s at a loss now.

Like he’s a bloody idiot. Hob shakes his head in amazement, his own anger evaporating as quickly as it came. Yet again he wonders how it is possible to be all knowing and yet so blind, so oblivious to such a simple truth, one Hob didn’t even try too hard to hide, really.

“I know you didn’t want me to,” he softens his voice, speaking more quietly “but I really didn’t have a choice. If I could do this on my own, you know I would have, I’d do worse for you.” He smiles at Dream, he doesn’t even try to sound self-deprecating, it’s the honest truth. He would.

His hand drops by his side and he awaits then, for his judgment.

“You love, me?”

Hob doesn't know how to respond to such a simple question other than–

“I do.”

There’s nothing else to add to that, he said it all, he did it all, even Dream must understand this is no passing fancy. One does not risk their immortal soul for something insignificant. Especially not Hob. One does it when it means everything. And in this case, it did. Dream did.

Dream seems to again, come to the same conclusion.

He wilts, shoulders sagging. He looks both much older and much younger at the same time, like this knowledge has stricken him, hurt him.

“You shouldn’t” is all he says.

“But I do.” Hob answers in return.

“I see that.” Dream’s voice is a whisper carried by the breeze, gentle, endless, aching. He looks torn in that moment, the judge whose scales no longer measure in any understandable manner. He casts his gaze down.

“Just let me,” Hob says. He did not come here demanding boons, nor love, only to help Dream. “Forgive my impudent human inclinations to save what I love, and let us continue as we were. Friends. “

“Friends…” Dream repeats after him, as if in disbelief.

Dream opens his mouth to say more—to accept or refuse, Hob doesn’t know—but in that exact moment Matthew half-crashes, half-lands on Dream’s shoulder, a flutter of black feathers and barely muffled curses.

“Boss! Oh for fuck’s sake— I mean cracker’s sake— I mean what the hell— I mean you’re fine—you’re actually okay, I was sure that this time you’re like legit—” he notices Hob then, and cawing loudly he curses again “You actually did it you son of a bitch— you really did!” His wings open excitedly, brushing against Dream’s face, covering it up.

“Matthew.”

“Uh-” Matthew folds his wings immediately.

Hob looks at Dream then, the moment is decidedly broken but he has to know if he’d see him again, he can’t just go on not knowing, it’ll drive him insane. “Dream—” he starts, but Dream speaks over him.

“We will discuss this—” Dream’s lips tighten, eyes flicking to Matthew and then back at Hob. “At a later time.” He concludes rather curtly, seemingly deciding that addressing exactly what they will be discussing is not something he wants his Raven to be privy to.

“Right…” Hob murmurs, not speaking further of the topic either. It’s one thing to break Dream’s boundaries over life and death, another entirely over his own impatience and need to know. Dream wanting to see him again at all is already a damn good sign, and Hob will take it, gladly.

“I’ll see you later then, Dream” He uses the name even while not being sure he is still permitted to, that he did not lose the privilege. Dream tilts his head but doesn’t object, instead he nods once and disappears in a swirl of golden sand.

“Show off…” Hob murmurs into the empty air, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a good feeling in his gut, he should probably be worried but he has a feeling that things will work out, that it all will be just fine. He can’t explain it, but he has learnt to trust his gut over the years. After all, it once led him to believe that he would never die.

It was right then, and it’ll be right now too. He and Dream will figure it out and will be better for it. Just like the other time, just like always.

#Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #carnelianmeluha #msg #It probably could have been rewritten but given the fact that it was meant to be only 20 minutes long writing and ended up being hours #i think this is as far as it goes :')#Something within me perished typing out in caplocks but i wished to stay true to the original prompt SO.#I only saw that you did specify the ship in a later message now lmao see I had forbidden myself from looking through the prompts #so I don't start picking and choosing what I felt more like #So I only read them as I actually did them--- and still chosen to be good xD

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luvfy0dor · 2 months

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“Hands Under My Sweatshirt, Baby Kiss it Better ♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; BSD Spoilers, mentions of death, ch. 112 events, soft!fyodor

Description; Having a nightmare about your partner dying and waking up to him comforting you

A/n; i'm supposed to be doing a saq rn but I COULDNT NOT POST ON NEW CHAPTER DAY AHHHH I WANNA BE FYODORS MEDIEVAL HOUSE SPOUSE SO BAD IN EVERY LIFE TIME

ೃ⁀➷

Everything felt so real- you watched as your lover got into a helicopter with a briefcase containing an antidote, expecting a swift escape from Mersault only to be impaled by an iron rod. You watched as his eyes widened and his slender fingers wrapped around the pole. Blood trickled from both the new piercing in his midsection and between his lips while his breathing became shaky. He glared at another man in your dream who has been rendered faceless while speaking, although everything in the dream was silent so you couldn't make out any particular words or sentences.

The night terror didn't stop at your boyfriend being impaled, as a matter of fact it made you watch as the helicopter was messily flown directly into a tower and burst into flames with Fyodor still inside. You tried to hurry towards the aircraft, but it exploded before you could reach it. The blast didn't effect you, not scorching you or propelling you backwards at all, but letting you stand there and watch as all hope of getting Fyodor out of there shattered like glass. The crackling embers of fire surrounding you gradually became accompanied by a soft whisper-one that was all too familiar and thick with sleep. You were still in shock from the dream when your eyes snapped open, your legs curled inward with Fyodors chest to your back and his hand soothingly rubbing your side. "It's okay, Moya Lyubov, what happened?" He asks you, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath warm against your ear as he presses a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck. "Nightmare. You're...you're okay." You murmur, relief taking over your heart and mind. You rolled over, your body pushing his backwards a bit. "Ofcourse I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I promise. Was the dream about me getting hurt?" He correctly assumes, his tired gaze fixed on your own. "Mmm, worse, dying." You say, your heart finally returning to a steady pace.

"Ah, that makes more sense. You were very restless, you know." He tells you. "It's easy to tell when you have nightmares, you're like a dog. You make some distressed noises and kick your legs." He says with a grin. You sigh and close your eyes, pressing your head to his chest. "It's better than being stiff as a board though, 'cause that means you'll pick up on it and be all sweet and affectionate." You say. Your arms wrap around his torso like they would with a stuffed toy. "I'd say I'm rather affectionate regardless. You're just needy." He looks down at you and pushes your head out from his chest, kissing your forehead while his other hand slides up the back of your sweater and rests on the small of your back. You hum and twist the fabric of his tee-shirt between your pointer and thumb. "M'not needy." You roll your eyes and look up at him through your eyelashes. "If you insist." He says, closing his eyes and readying himself to delve back into a dreamless sleep. "Mhm..g'night, Fedya, I love you." You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips that gets his eyes to open right back up. He kisses you back and smiles faintly. "Good night, Y/n, I love you too, sleep well." His arm drapes over your side with the blanket strewn messily over the both of you. Now you could sleep a little more peacefully with the reassurance of your lovers presence in your arms, and more importantly, his safety.

A/n; i speedran this tbh, so I'm sorry if it's not great. Also, would if I made like,,, a taglist would any of y'all wanna be on it because I see so many people do it and it looks cool but I've been too nervous to like say anything or ask bc I don't want people to be like "ew no wtf" THATS LITERALLY NOT GONNA HAPPEN BUT LIKE IDK I'm scared djsjjfjekekak

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theamazingellie · 4 months

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♡ I can tell that we are gonna be friends - Sejanus Plinth ♡

request - “Sejanus overhears coryo talking about him in a classroom to Clemensia and he says Sejanus is not his friend, to which Sejanus hears coryo say this and is absolutely devastated. He has lost his only friend, and so he walks away and goes home and locks himself in his room and sobs for the friend he has lost“

summary - basically that but after Sejanus freaks out about losing a friend the reader tries to be there for him. DON’T WORRY THOUGH ANON!! I don’t think this is a fix-it fic. Honestly I think the reader makes it worse.

warning - Sejanus crying for the majority of this fic, heavy angst, hurt/comfort pairing - Sejanus x GN!reader (platonically?) a/n - wrote this at 1am, went over it 5 times, and i STILL cannot tell if it’s shit. Woe as me.

“He seems upset, Coriolanus. Shouldn’t you follow him? He is your best friend after all.”

“Clemmie,” snow practically seethed, “He is not my best friend or, as it seems everyone in this school assumes, even my friend. More of an acquaintance, if anything.

Well there he had it. An already bad day for Sejanus turned into one of the worst he’s ever experienced.

An outburst in class about the hunger games had led him to storming out of the room, not before he overheard Coriolanus Snows unfortunate reaction to the situation

More of an acquaintance, if anything.

Sejanus hadn’t slowed down while leaving the classroom until a little while later when it finally sank in; the meaning of coryo’s words. Sejanus was lonely in district two, seen as privileged by all his neighbors, and utterly friendless. Nothing changed when he went to the capital until Coriolanus Snow.

He had shown him kindness, not partaking in any bullying, and had charmed him into thinking Sejanus finally had a best friend. However, with the latest comments, it appeared not only was Sejanus just as foolish as everyone thought, he was also rendered totally alone.

Finally, he stopped walking. Feeling totally overwhelmed, the loss of a good friend and the stress of the Hunger Games, it all became too much.

Tears welled in his eyes as he tried, and failed, to turn the thoughts off. He pushed himself to keep walking in order to reach the safety of his bedroom. Unfortunately, the tears didn’t stop. They did quite the opposite.

“He won’t see anyone,” Mrs, Plinth frowned in the doorway.

“I just want to make sure everything’s alright. After class today and…” you trailed off, rather hesitant to recount Sejanus’s outburst to his mother.

Mrs Plinth put her hand over her heart and sighed deeply, “What a sweet thing you are. Come inside, then, I made blueberry pie.”

She opened her door wider and led you to the plinths kitchen where, as promised, a beautifully baked blueberry pie was waiting. While you ate, Mrs. Plinth explained how he hadn’t told her anything about what was wrong before storming up to his room.

“Just muttered something about school and…” she tried to jog her memory, “Oh, and something about that Snow boy! I sure hope they didn’t get in a fight. Sejanus was so happy to finally make a friend.”

Mrs. Plinth frowned as she looked at her pie. You assumed he hadn’t eaten anything since be came home either.

“I’m going to try to bring him some food. Who could say no to pie?” you assured her with a smile.

As it turned out, Sejanus could very well say no to pie. You stood there as his mother knocked on his door and told him she made him food. Even in his state, he still managed to call out a shaky ‘no thank you, ma!’

It was only when Mrs. Plinth mentioned a classmate was here to see him he actually seemed to care.

“Tell Coriolanus I don’t want to see him now.” his voice cracked when he spoke, as if he had been crying for hours.

“Actually, it’s y/n,” you said cautiously, as if approaching a wild dog that could go rabid any moment. “I wanted to check on you… see how you were doing.”

You spoke convincingly and apparently with enough conviction because finally, a lock clicked and Sejanus appeared at his door.

At this point his mother decided to leave and you were glad for it, hoping for more alone time with Sejanus. You weren’t close friends, but you got along well. You especially didn’t understand why no one talked to him. You knew that if you saw him during school hours more, you would make a point to converse.

Still, despite not being close, you were especially worried about the Plinth boy today. You weren’t sure if he had heard what Snow said about him as he left, but from the tired look of his face, and the comment to his ma, you had a sneaking suspicion that he did.

“Hey,” you cooed, softly rubbing his arm in a comforting manor. He leaned into the touch and opened the door slightly more, allowing you to step in. Without another word he went to sit down by his bed as you closed the door behind you.

“Sejanus, you look terrible! You stormed out so quickly this morning. What’s been bothering you?” you sat down next to him and his mouth flicked down into a frown. A tear slid down his cheek and he turned away.

If anything confirmed your idea that he was upset about more than just the Hunger Games, it was that.

“Snow.” you said matter-of-factly, but looked to him for confirmation. He nodded slowly and you continued.

“He doesn’t deserves you, Sejanus. He’s snooty and arrogant and he-“

“He was my only friend,” the Plinth boy pathetically choked back a sob. “It’s easy to ignore things like that when you have no one else who tolerates you.”

More tears ran down his cheek and he drew his knees up to his chin as if to hide his crying.

“I don’t fit in anywhere. I was too capital for the districts and too district for the capital,” his voice was muffled from behind his legs.

“Even if people actually liked me I don’t-“ Sejanus sniffed, seeming more irritated, “I don’t understand why I can’t just live comfortably. My whole life was changed when I moved to the capital. Even now, I finally got used to having a best friend and, well, I’m tired of having things yanked away from me.”

His anger shrank away in seconds and he put his head back down on his knees.

“I have nobody.”

You took a moment to consider this before brushing curls back from out of his hair and letting your palm rest of his cheek. You wiped away a tear that was falling.

“I’m somebody.”

To your dismay, the comment only made him sob harder, this time more pathetic than ever. You pull him into a hug before he can hide his face, and cradle his head as you softly run your nails through his curls.

He burrows his head into the crook of your neck, still crying, but feeling less alone. You gently rub his back as you speak,

“I can’t bring you back to district two, and I can’t make Snow like you,” your start solemnly, “but what I can do is make you feel a little less alone.”

You pull back from the hug and kiss his forehead as he shuts his eyes tightly. You let your thumb caress his cheek before scooting back to let him rest his head on your shoulder.

“Sorry for bothering you with all of this,” Sejanus said glumly.

“You couldn’t bother me if you tried, Sej,” you smile and take his hand. He nuzzles his head further into your neck.

“So…” you say, feeling suddenly awkward and the intimate start to your friendship. “What’s your favorite color?”

feel free to leave requests <3 (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #sejanus deserved better #serious lil bro is struggling #light angst #hurt/comfort #tbosas #tbosas x reader #sejanus plinth x reader

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 6 days

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More headcanons about Anakin and Ahsoka being menaces to the general public

I feel like both Anakin and Ahsoka react to being sick in similar ways and by reacting in similar ways I mean they do everything in their power to ignore the fact that they’re sick

Which is funny because they both get annoyed when the other refuses to accept that they’re sick Ahsoka will take any hint that Anakin gives her that his condition is failing and runs with it

Man could breathe different way and she’s like “Master it sounds like you’re sick maybe you should lay down and let me take over” to which Anakin refuses

Ahsoka’s just as bad because Anakin tries his best to take care of her without letting her know he’s onto her

But of course she’s not stupid and can tell when he’s being more of a helicopter sibling than normal and calls him on it

God forbid they get sick at the same time because they just spend the whole time trying to take care of each other

And god forbid they get sick at the same time when Obi-Wan is around cause then they just turn into whiny children

Like no seriously it’s like a switch goes off in their brains that renders them into beings incapable of fixing their blankets

Obi-Wan obliges because what dad would stop taking care of their kid depending on the age

Honestly my brain kinda leaned into Ahsoka’s chaotic younger sister energy with this one

But I love the idea that she will just sneak attack Anakin and Obi-Wan

Most of her “sneak attacks” go something like this: Anakin walking down the hall minding his business when Ahsoka drops down from the ceiling

But before she can land on him he sidesteps and grabs her by the collar before she can hit the floor which results in Ahsoka moaning and groaning that she “Almost got him that time” and Anakin grumbles back that the only thing that “almost got her” was a black eye

He does have to admit that her random seak attacks have made her better at climbing

Sometimes she’ll walk up behind Obi-Wan and try to cover his eyes but most of the time all she gets is his shoulders

Most of the time it doesn’t even slow the man down he just keeps walking while asking her about her day and how classes are going

But as she gets older she’s able to mask her presence better and manages to sneak up on the men once or twice

Obi wan is always willing to admit defeat and congratulates her on her well earned victory

Anakin blames it on his age and that’s the only time that Ahsoka will ever hear him admit to being “old” (he’s 30)

It’s an ongoing joke that you shouldn’t separate Ahsoka and Anakin some say you risk a limb if you try others say you’re risking your life what most don’t mention is how you’re risking your sanity

Because they become the most annoying motherfuckers when they’re apart

Ahsoka acts like they’ve been separated for 10 years and will tell stories like she’s reminiscing about the good old times but most of the time the people she tells the stories to were present for the events so it goes something like this:

“Hey Rex do you remember when me and Anakin threw someone into that lake those were the days” “Yes I do remember that commander because I was that person and it was a week ago”

In his defense that’s the fifth story she told him in the past hour and here was there for all of them

Anakin’s just as bad but for a different reason because all he does is overthink

Like don’t get me wrong he keeps up the “cool guy” personality before she leaves but the second she’s gone he’ll sprinkle little questions into normal conversations like “Do you think she packed warm enough?” “Do they have enough emergency rations?” “Did anyone make sure that ship was up to code before they left?”

He made sure she packed for every single weather possible, he packed enough rations for two weeks even tho they were supposed to be gone for two days, and he checked the ship before they left

Sometimes Anakin or Ahsoka will just walk into each other's room and hang out they don't do much they kinda just sit down and talk

Sometimes they have a silent but mutual understanding to leave the room and go bother Obi-Wan in his

I love the idea that Obi-Wan and Anakin are victims of Ahsoka’s undying fascination with human hair she loves when their hair is long and encourages them to grow it out longer so she has more to work with

She all but falls to her knees when she sees how long Padme’s hair is and she’s the creator of some of Padme’s funkier hairstyles (both Anakin and Padme make a small note to force Ahsoka to do their future kid's hair)

She’s also weirded out by facial hair so every single time Obi-Wan shaves or Anakin tries to grow a beard they’re treated like a different person entirely

It took them a while to figure out why but once they did they lost their minds laughing (and also made silent vows not to do it again cause it freaked her out)

People often say it’s like Ahsoka and Anakin can read each other's minds without using the force

Some people find it hard to believe but it’s pretty easy to tell when people are having conversations through their bond and when two people are having a conversation just with looks

It’s not an uncommon sight for them to shoot each other looks after someone says something a little bold and for both of them to be laughing by the end of it

It’s just as common for them to get into little arguments and finish it in complete and total silence before one of them finally gives in with a huff

It’s kinda freaky but they don’t seem to notice and everyone around them is too used to it to care

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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Interior decorator Hob ask has infiltrated my mind BUT with a bit of a twist:

Whether or not he still stumbles his way into the business, he's found he really enjoys it. He enjoys it even more when he settles into a more niche corner of the market as a sex dungeon designer. He's built things from subtle changes for extra bedroom activities to full-on, intense dungeons. And with thr riche clientele thay he works with, there's little he hasn't seen.

Enter Dream: professional Dom who recently moved house and needs to renovate the basement for work. He'd normally do it himself but just shortly after moving, he injured himself to the point that his doctor told him to take it easy for the next few weeks (which would be fine if he didn't have set appointments starting right in a few weeks as well. That doesn't leave enough time to get his workplace situated). So he hired Hob, someone Desire had recommended.

Hob has seen lots of pretty people in his line of work but there's just something about this man that makes Hob want to fall to his knees for (and maybe test out his handiwork with later). He tries to stay professional throughout the process, but there's only so much willpower and Dream sauntering through the house without a shirt and low-rise pants after a shower does nothing to help. Nor does his face looming over Hob's shoulders to examine the plans nor that deep, velvet like voice giving strict instructions on what to fix just beside his ear.

Dream, after seeing Hob for the first time, knew he needed that man. So he's made it his personal mission to wear Hob down and give in like he knows Hob wants to.

After the renovations are complete and Dream is cleared for strenuous activities again, let's just say that freshly made dungeon is going to get plenty of use in-between Dream's appointments.

SEX DUNGEON DESIGNER HOB AKAJSJAJAHSN <3333 unsurprisingly I love it.

Hob is definitely on the submissive end of the spectrum, which is something he uses to his advantage in his work. His designs are more geared towards the needs, comfort and ease of the submissive partner. Other designers may tend to see things from the dom's pov, which is absolutely fine too! But Hob just has an insight into what it actually feels like to be vulnerable and trying to enter a submissive state. His designs have been quite popular with professional doms (Desire may or may not be in the industry just like their brother, and recommended Hob’s work very highly).

It's difficult to work around Dream. Not because he's rude or difficult. But because he can so easily render Hob weak at the knees with his voice or the merest hint of a smile. Hob can't stop fantasising about using every item in the new sex dungeon with Dream, and while he's following the client's strict stipulations, he also finds himself adding elements that he really wants Dream to use on him. Like, the breeding bench with the built-in spreader bar was a particularly vivid part of Hob’s daydreams, and now the real thing takes up a corner of the dungeon space.

When he finally finds himself spread out on the bench with four of Dream’s graceful fingers plunging in and out of his hole, Hob is pleased that he ordered extra cushioning for the part of the bench where his head rests. But mostly he's just whimpering and begging for more, because he's a good slut - Dream knew that he would be, the moment he walked through the door.

It's only fair that Hob gets to use the room he put such energy and devotion into. And after Dream spent the whole renovation time teasing and working Hob into a proper state, it's high time for him to make this poor sweet sub cum!

#kydrogendragon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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mxltifxnd0m · 7 months

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ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪꜱᴇ

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Summary: You spar with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara x spider fem! Reader, fem reader is a Spider-Woman

Words: 2.5K

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Warnings: none, some sexual tension, banter, reader loves to annoy Miguel, no use of y/n

A/N: I have no clue if I should post this after months of not writing lol (so if it does hi tumblr it has been a while 😅). And as always thank you to my wife @songofpatrochilless for beta reading!

A/N pt.2: try and find the vampire by olivia rodrigo reference 🤭

𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘰'𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

An alert from your watch makes you stop typing the report you were writing for Tony. You look at it confused since you don’t typically get a message or an alert on your days off. You tap on the watch, and Lyla appears on your desk.

“Hey, Lyla!” You greet her cheerfully, “What does Miguel need from me?”

“He needs you at HQ, Miguel said something about training?” Lyla tells you.

“You don’t sound too sure about why he’s calling me either.”

Lyla just shrugs at you and says to hurry up. You roll your eyes at her and tell her you’ll be at HQ. She disappears with a little salute and pulling out your phone, you text the team that you’ll be out for a couple of hours.

You tap on the spider pendant hanging from your necklace twice. Your spider suit (sans mask) forms around your body. You tap on the watch and configure it to go to Earth-928B. The hexagonal portal opens, and you begin to walk through it, getting pulled through. Being welcomed by the sight of the infinite universes never ceases to amaze you. After a minute, the portal opens and you end up in the elevator in HQ. As you leave the elevator and head to Miguel’s office, the various variants of Peter Parker and other spider people greet you as you pass them.

You can hear your footsteps echo through the empty halls as you near Miguel’s (cave) office.

“So, is there a multiversal villain that isn't in their universe, and that's why you called me on my day off, or did you miss me?” You call out to Miguel as you enter his office with your hands on your hips and a smug smile as his desk floats down slowly.

"You know you should fix that to make it go down faster." You quip.

His desk finally reaches the floor, and Miguel is unamused.

“Neither.” He responds, deciding to ignore the comment that you made about his desk. Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief as you observe Miguel's choice of clothing.

“Ermm…so where’s the suit? I wasn’t aware that we had casual Fridays at HQ now, and I didn’t take you to be someone to wear their symbol on their casual wear.” You stifle a laugh as your hand gestures to the loose-fitting grey joggers and tight black compression tank top with his emblem stitched in the front that he is wearing instead of his usual red and blue spider suit.

There’s a hint of a smirk as he sees your eyes trail over his form.

“We don’t.” He responds to my question, “But we’re training today.” He goes to leave the room. You quickly follow him after him as you trail behind him slightly.

“Wait, slow your roll, Dracula! What do you mean by training?”

Miguel scoffed at the nickname, “I haven’t been able to see what you are capable of, so you and I are going to spar.” He explains as he walks toward the training room.

“I thought you recruited people based on their experience?”

“I landed in your universe on a whim-“

“You mean you got sucker punched into my universe trying to get back to this one and passed out.” You interrupt Miguel.

He sighed heavily, “I landed in your universe and wasn’t planning to recruit you until I figured out what you could do. What the others don’t do.”

His comment rendered you speechless, not liking how he tried to bring up your past. You guys spent the rest of the walk in silence. You felt you were nearing your destination. You were right as he stopped before a door and opened it, and Miguel gestured for you to enter first.

“Well, would you look at that? Miguel O’Hara has manners.” you tease as you enter the mysterious room.

“Hardy har har, I've never heard that one before.” He says dryly.

As you walk in, the room is pitch black, and all you can hear is Miguel’s footsteps. You hear a click and the hum of electricity before the bright lights flicker on.

The sudden brightness throws you off slightly. You have to blink a couple of times to clear your vision. The first thing you notice is that the room is massive. Foam mats line the floor, leading you to believe those are for sparring. Where there aren’t foam mats, linoleum pathways lead you to different parts of the room.

As your eyes move to the left side of the room, there is a window that looks into what seems to be a dance studio? You can see the barre used for ballet, and you suspect that the “window” is a two-way mirror. You raise an eyebrow at the dance studio, wondering why there was one in the first place, but you continue to scan the room.

The ceiling is incredibly high, with metal bars protruding from the walls leading up to the high ceiling, and from the ceiling itself. Then, your eyes landed on the center of the room. There was a boxing ring, and Miguel was standing in the middle.

“I thought there was already a training facility that the others use?”You question Miguel as you begin to walk up to the ring.

“This is an old one before I had the other built. It’s a bit outdated for the others. So, no one uses it anymore. But I’m using it to see what you can do. Do you have clothes underneath your suit?”

“No, I go commando all the time.” You snark at him.

Miguel sends you a look, his red eyes flashing slightly at you.

“Yes, I have my plain clothes underneath.” You answer with a slight sigh.

He gestured to the right side of the room, where a door labeled locker rooms was.

“There should be some spare clothes in one of those lockers. Get changed, and meet me back here.” He ordered.

You nod and walk into the locker rooms. Inside, the room was split into two, with a door leading to a men's and women's side. You walked into the woman’s side, and it looked like a generic locker room. Lockers lined the walls furthest from the door you entered from, changing stalls to the left and sinks and bathroom stalls to the right. The lockers had no locks, so you pulled a random one open. There was a black sports bra and some black leggings. You close the locker door with the clothes in hand and head to the changing stalls.

Once you had gotten changed, your feet quietly led you out of the locker room, and you lifted your eyes from the ground to see Miguel raising his arms above his head, making his shirt rise slightly, giving you a good look at his prominent v-line and how low his pants are sitting at his hips. You feel yourself flush at the sight of Miguel’s tan skin. You clear your throat to alert Miguel. As you climbed into the ring, you could feel his eyes on you.

“So, are you ready to go down Nosferatu?” You ask him with a teasing grin on my face.

He rolls his eyes at me and puts his hands on his hips, “Some ground rules before we start. No webs, no face shots, and tap out if you get pinned. And stop calling me that.” He explains as he points his finger at me.

“Got it, and I’m not going to.” There’s a grin on your face. “But one thing before we start.”

“What is it?” He says, getting a little impatient.

“Are you sure you want to spar with me specifically?”

“Why? Are you afraid that you’ll lose? I don’t see a problem with that.” Miguel says while shrugging with a half smile on his face.

You grin wide at his cockiness, “Great, you’re feeling confident. No, I’m not afraid. I just wanted to ask if you thought this through.”

“And why is that? Humor me.” Amusement coated his tone.

“You’re asking the person groomed to be an assassin since they were 9 to see what they can do. I have to say it’s not one of your brightest ideas, Mig.” As soon as you finished your sentence, you went to swipe his feet from underneath him, but at the last second, he managed to dodge your attack.

“I guess we’re starting now.” He mutters under his breath as he gets into a defensive position, but your advanced hearing makes it easy for you to hear his words.

The both of you begin to circle each other. The both of you are in defensive positions and waiting for the other to strike.

“Bring it, Miggy.” You flash him a smirk, your tone teasing as you make the hand gesture to come at you. He lunges at you.

As the both of you spar in the boxing ring, neither can keep the other pinned. You can feel the sweat coat your body, your chest heaves from exertion, but you can’t wipe away the smile on your face. It had been a while since you’d been able to spar with someone that matched your skill level.

You guys reached a standstill. You and Miguel start to circle one another once again. You decide that you have to finish this. You run full speed at Miguel, surprising him. Miguel was unprepared for the sudden attack. You jump and wrap your legs around his head and neck. Using momentum, you twist your body to bring him to the ground. He fell on his back hard on the mat as you landed on your feet. You take this as a chance to pin him down. You straddle his waist and pin his wrists down onto the floor.

You lean over him, your face hovering over his. You can tell that Miguel was not anticipating your sudden move. The wind got knocked out of him. His breaths were harsh and shallow. You smile smugly at Miguel once he opens his eyes.

“Do you yield?” You tease him as you lean further down into Miguel, feeling his harsh breath hitting your skin. You can see him swallow hard and try to get out of your grip, but you fight against his attempts to get out of your grasp.

“Are you trying to get me off of you?” You coo at him, laughing slightly at his attempts. His face twists into a snarl at your teasing. He bares his fangs at you as he tries to get you off.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that Miggy.” You taunt him as you tighten your grip around his thick wrists and squeeze your thighs around his waist. He suddenly stops wriggling around, and a smirk appears on his face. He leans closer to your face, your noses brushing against one another. The smile slips off your face as you stare into Miguel’s ruby-red eyes.

“You know, you shouldn’t let proximity distract you, Hermosa,” Miguel says in a sultry whisper, his words fanning over your lips, and you can feel yourself swallow hard at his words.

“It’s not.” You croak out, feeling your chest tighten. Miguel brushes his lips over yours. You were not expecting that, and your grip on his wrist falters. Suddenly, you feel the world turn upside down.

You groan as you land flat on your back from Miguel flipping you over him. As you try to scramble to get up, Miguel straddles your legs and pins your wrists to the mat with one of his hands, reversing the position that you had previously.

You look up at Miguel hovering over you with the smugest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face. You try to figure out how to get out from underneath him, but he has your legs pinned. You wriggle around and try to thrust your hips up to throw Miguel off you. Your attempts are futile since he’s so much bigger than you. Miguel chuckles lowly at your poor attempts to get him off of you.

“Don’t let the enemy distract you.” He whispers in your ear and chuckles as he moves back and gets off of you. You curse under your breath and stay lying on the mat.

You hear Miguel pad off to a corner of the ring to grab a towel to wipe his sweat off and drink his water. You close your eyes. You take a minute to catch your breath and compose yourself, feeling flustered by Miguel’s actions.

After a few minutes of laying there, you can hear Miguel walk toward you and toss a towel, landing on your stomach.

“Get up.” He nudges your side with his foot.

You groan while opening your eyes, squinting a bit as your eyes adjust quickly to the bright lights of the unused gym. You took the towel off your stomach and sat up. You wiped the sweat off of your face and neck. After wiping the sweat off, you wrapped the towel around your neck. You could see Miguel’s hand appear in front of your face. You take it, and he pulls you up from the floor.

“So, how did I do?” You ask him.

“You’re better than I expected.”

“Wow, did you expect a fully trained assassin not to be capable?” You scoff jokingly at his words.

“I mean, you’re better than everyone else that I’ve recruited so far.”

“That I am.” You smile. You guys leave the old training area and head back to his office.

“So that’s all you wanted me here for?”

He nodded at you. “Today is a slow day for anomalies. So I decided it was time to test you.”

As soon as he uttered those words, multiple alerts went off on his watch. It was as if the universe heard his words. Lyla appeared and alerted Miguel that there was a Rhino anomaly in Earth-5573. He groans slightly in frustration and looks at you. “I know it's your day off, but could you help?”

"Yeah, I was bored doing some paperwork anyway." You shrug.

"Okay, head to that earth, and I’ll send Jess with you.”

You hum in confirmation. You press your spider pendant. In a second, your suit forms around your body. You look down at your watch and open a portal to Earth-5573. Miguel grasped your wrist before you left, making you look back at him.

Miguel had an unreadable look in his eyes. You look down at his hand and back at him. He seems to snap out of whatever daze he is in and clears his throat while fixing his posture.

“Don’t be reckless out there.” He says sternly, but you can hear the warmth in his words.

You smirk at him, “Will do, boss.” You salute him playfully at him. “Oh, Miguel!” You call out to him.“Don’t let anyone hear that, or they’ll think you have a heart.” You tease him before walking through the portal, and the last thing you see is Miguel scowling. A giggle escapes my mouth before the portal closes, and you head to Earth-5573.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #daisy's writing #daisy writes for once #daisy writes

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kuradex · 2 months

Note

I wanna know about your art style. How you draw like that??

i tried putting down considerations as well as a (very) general step by step of what i do; if there's anything more specific you want me to explain lmk i guess?

first off, general (self imposed) constraints / purpose of project -- this informs what i draw & how i draw it

i.e. "kuradex" is pretty different from my normal art (my 5 latest rough illustrations):

or my monster hunter charms:

or my pokemon tcg contest illustrations that im not allowed to show until june (😉):

although i've said its for merch purposes, ive started drawing these because i wanted to practice conveying "liveliness" and noticing key features / nuances of a given design, but i didn't want to spend a large amount of time on each one.

so what i came up with is

i want to draw things on-model in terms of proportions ( + take note of weight / tapering of shapes / etc )

no backgrounds & minimal "props"

experiment with / practice line/texture/color/flow/rhythm/etc

spend <1 hr on each pokemon on average (this is a bit more difficult for me to track, but for example, the cyndaquil line took me less than 42min to color, combined, and means at some point in time instead of focusing on cleaning up the art as much as i can, i stop after cleaning up most of it)

that said, the pose & the rhythm/flow of lines are key in conveying liveliness, and if i have a concept in mind i usually end up going with it, but i may go thru a few if i dont.

i consider pokemon origin / lore or a key point in its design, and if i'm particularly stuck, i try looking up pokemon card illustrations for inspiration. (i noticed the research i do is essentially a truncated version of how Atsushi Furusawa does research before doing an illustration.

(& even despite all this i do get stuck sometimes and don't exactly understand a pokemon and just opt for "as cute or cool as i can make it i guess?", but i think it's part of the process...?) (theoretically things that are A Shape should be really easy to draw but with what i want to practice in perspective i find them difficult...)

this is from my latest paid req but these are my first sketches of chesnaught -- i was thinking of how one of its inspirations is a warrior / tanker from RPGs, so i drew a pose where it's shielding its face.

i do another pass and take note of details.

in general i draw overlapping shapes and erase (it's a bit visible on one of the spikes)

because i opt for quickness i start coloring at this point -- i actually just use a colored "color burn" layer & i actually colorpick official art & lay down messy flats & set the color layer to 60%

60% multiply layer for shadows. i tend to use both hard and soft brushes

for bigger projects i would use 2-3 shadow layers to create more "layered" shadows

here i use overlay layer (60%). this is just throwing colors at it and seeing what works and doesn't work. i personally prefer to throw red under the eye and a yellow or blue near the top of the head. this is mostly done with a soft brush

before this point, everything is under the rough lines, but now i actually start drawing/painting over it, color picking the colors that have been laid down from the previous steps and cleaning up / rendering textures (making the green on its arms look fuzzy) / fixing anything that i forgot or looks too off (i.e. the spike on its shoulder and the way the tail curves)

I could potentially keep cleaning this up, but this is where i usually stop 🫡

#not art #barely a tutorial?

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garoujo · 1 year

Text

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI RIN ; — you just wish your step brother would take a break sometimes, but now you’re there to make sure he does.

warnings: f!reader, stepcest, all characters written 22+, a little grinding, the beginning of a handjob, rin needs to learn to take a break sometimes. note: more of this agenda cause i can <3

sometimes your stepbrother was a bit too driven for his own good, you think as you walk into rin’s bedroom to find him stretching on his yoga mat. you don’t know when the last time you seen him rest was, if he wasn’t training he was stretching, fixing his kit or doing what he’s doing now.

but something turns deep in your abdomen at the sight of him, it was impossible to deny that he was pretty — carved muscles and pretty features, it wasn’t fair how handsome he was, truly. maybe that’s what draws you nearer, taking careful steps into his space despite the way he still manages to hold his positioning. you’re sure he’s noticed you, but he’s still yet to actually acknowledge you — maybe it’s because he’s scared to knock his concentration, or the sudden tension that blankets the room instead.

“rin?” you try, it’s quiet and whispery, although distracted as your eyes narrow on the beads of sweat that carve out his perfect physique as rin rests there. his gaze is softer when his head tilts to look at you, the gentle eye movement catching you off guard before you can pay too much attention to your step, you were aware of the matt at your feet — but not enough for you to remember to step over it with your next step when your gaze is locked on your step brother before you.

it’s humiliating the way you come down hard on top of him, although you’re pretty sure your landing would have been less comfortable if it wasn’t for him breaking your fall. his skin is fairly damp with sweat beneath you but you’re too acutely aware of the way his hand seems to have curled it’s way around the back of your neck to pull you into him, like he deliberately tried to cushion your fall despite the way you almost knocked him out with you.

“what do you think you’re doing?” the tone of rin’s voice is still softer despite the way he grits his teeth and looks down at you, and you’re sure if you were anyone else — a teammate even, he’d be much less forgiving — but you’re not. you’re more than that, his pretty little stepsister who’s clothed cunt he thinks feels so warm against his cock as your thighs straddle his lap.

“sorry—“ you have more to say, another apology, but when you’re scrambling to push yourself off of him you can’t ignore the way his other arm seems to have hooked its way around your hips. every desperate movement to push yourself off of him only seems to emphasis the way you can feel him twitch beneath you, your suspicions only being confirmed with the blooming flush that paints his cheeks despite his frown.

“i didn’t mean to..” you try again, although you’re not sure what comes over you when your words are accompanied by a subtle little roll of your hips, making rin inhale sharp as his fingers squeeze at your skin. he’s already rock fucking hard, wide-eyed and rendered speechless when his step-sister rewards him with another slow grind of your clothed pussy against him.

“w-whatre you doing?” he tries, but his words are whispery and breaking under the weight of his arousal as his hands move to grip at your waist, like he’s considering stopping you despite the way he only encourages your movements as he eases you along the length of him.

rin’s never had a women moan for him like you do when he eases his bulge through your folds, the blunt head catching on your clothed clit as your thighs twitch around him, and he fucking whines before he’s flushing deeper at how needy he sounds beneath you.

your brother blows out a slow breath as his hands continue to explore the topography of your body, a flush high on his cheeks when you cast him a starry eyed glance and lean down to push your chest closer to his—you feel even better than he’d imagined. “i just want you to rest, rin.” you’re so caring, he likes that — emphasised by the throb of his cock against as he pulls you into him, eager to feel you closer as his head thumps back against the matt.

rin’s hands flex into your skin before his lips are meeting yours clumsily for the first time, a whining sort of hum vibrating through your lips when you part them and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue past your own, nose pressing against your cheek as he twists softly into you to deepen it, kissing you senseless until you’re pliant and melting into him.

“we.. we shouldn’t.” he gasps but he can’t stop — he was still a little awkward despite how long you’d been in his life now, he was still blunt and straight to the point. but there was a certain sort of charm to how earnest and nervous he still was, although there’s an edge of desperation to his voice that makes you burn when he hooks his arm around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

the kiss breaks wet when rin pulls away to growl — low and needy, feeling your fingers toy and tease along the waistband of his sweats before you’re pushing deeper, palming at his cock and wrapping your fingers around the base as he helps you ease through the layers between you. he’s already fucked, too far gone with his step-sister hand wrapped around him and he knows you have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

the first real stroke of your palm against him makes him groan, pushing his bangs back from his forehead before he’s sending you a blown, lidded look with parted lips — drawing you back into him so he kiss you again. it’s messier this time, every kiss smeared and drooled against your lips as he loses himself in your movements, hips twitching into the tight fist your hand has made around him as you squeeze at the sensitive glands of his cock.

“don’t.. fuck—don’t stop that.” rin mumbles against your mouth, it’s filthy, the change in his tone, dreamy and dripping with want and need, a kind that makes your pussy ache and your breath come uneven as you exhale with reverence across his lips. it was always your job to take good care of your big brother afterall.

you can feel the way he’s already throbbing against you, slowing your movements to focus along the blunt head as he shudders beneath you and you swipe the precum gathered at the tip along the length of him to ease your strokes. he’s breathing deep as he palms at you, trembling with every flick of your wrist as he grabs at every inch of your body to try and ground himself.

“i won’t.. just let me help you relax, rin.”

#݁ . ༅ : domain #cw stepcest #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin smut #itoshi rin x you #rin x reader #rin smut #rin x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Text

Count Briar | Yandere Yuri Briar

“Hi, there! You must be Yor’s baby brother! She’s told me all about you, come on in!”

Being greeted by an unfamiliar person in the home he both cursed and loved as the house of his sister wasn’t something Yuri Briar was prepared for. He had a clear goal this time around. Tutor Loid’s spawn, bug the rooms, and see if there is any evidence of Loid’s trickery.

“Well don’t just stand there silly! Anya, why don’t you bring your uncle in while I finish this cake!”

“Okay!”

He needed to focus! Analyze this new enemy and try to find flaws! But it was so hard when you so eagerly fed him delicious cake. Not to mention you were smiling so sweetly at him. No he had to make sure you weren’t a spy! Begin the interrogation!

“So what made you worthy enough to be in my sister’s home?”

“Well it's kind of in my title silly! I’m Anya and Bond’s nanny!”

You giggled setting aside a cake for yourself, Anya, and Bond. Yuri kept his eyes on your every move, just waiting for you to slip up. Not because he couldn’t stop looking at you. Nope! Definitely because your smile was too bright and that must have been a devious tactic from an enemy like you.

“(Y/n)-sama! Let us begin our mission!”

“Yes, Anya-sama it is time!”

“W-what?!”

With a flap of the cape she was wearing, Anya was revealed to wear layers of clothes of various unmatching patterns. Bond too was wearing a hat that resembled one of a cowboy and a cape that he was currently trying to eat. He turned to you for some semblance of an understanding only to find that you were in an elaborate costume yourself with something akin to a masquerade mask. On guard, he stood up until you so easily pushed at his chest with gloved hands as you chuckled. It wasn’t because the soft push at his chest rendered him an overheating mess…definitely not.

“I thought Yor would have told you! We’re trying something new to encourage Anya to study. Now you're the count I have to seduce to get codes from!”

“W-what?!”

“Here Unkie takes this, those are the codes they have to get! But you can’t give it right away!”

He stood up again. He was putting his foot down and stopping whatever effect you were having on him.

“No! I’m not doing this! I told Yor I’d–”

He stopped at the unsettling silence in the room. Anya’s face was slowly contorting and you had removed your mask to look worriedly at her before flicking your hypnotizing eyes back at his. It was too much with you looking directly into his eyes with that pouty look on your face felt like a direct attack. Heart pumping as he watched your puffy delectable lips turn into a pout and your eyes droop. This pressure! There was only one way he could evade this and the unshed tears welling in Anya’s eyes spoke of one thing—!

“Fine. But after this we get right to studying.”

Tears gone and your smile returned, everyone continued to prepare for the game that you were all about to play. Sitting back down and wearing the accessory he had been given beforehand. Finishing quickly he watched as you dawned your mask once more retrieving the cut slices as you placed them on the table. Joining him on the couch he watches you clear out your voice before turning and speaking to him in an accent that wasn’t your own.

“Thank you for inviting us Count Briar, me and my associates are so happy we could attend your costume tea-party!”

He stood there holding your gaze before receiving a not-so subtle kick from under the table. Kirking your head in hopes to urge him he realized what exactly you were trying to get from him.

“Uh uh yes I’m so happy you could come uh-”

“The Countess of the Acrobatics.”

“Uh–yeah and you uhm Any–”

“Princess of Peanuts!”

“Yes and Bond-”

“Bodyguard Bond!”

“Right, yes thank you for bringing the cake, then.”

“Of course it's the least we could do. After all you do have those cherry bombs sitting on the Candy Kingdom.”

“Do I–? Augh! Yes! I do!” Receiving another kick, he fixed his response. Realizing how hard this was for him, he tried his hardest. After all, he wouldn't want to let you down. Wait, he meant Yor if she were ever to hear about his lacking acting skills.

He continued to maintain this character, learning through you and Anya’s dialogue that he was a Count looking to force the Candy Kingdom to give all their candy to him with his cherry bombs. Apparently the King you were working for was deathly allergic to cherries and therefore required that you two–their spies get the codes to disarm the bombs.

Even with your previous revelation of your tactic he couldn’t be prepared for your ‘seduction’ in the slightest. Slowly scooting closer to him on the couch was the first step, already bringing a slight blush as he realized what you were doing. It escalated when you let your shoulders touch. You must have been incredibly hot because the moment you touched, he was in desperate need of some cooling off. Unfortunately, he couldn’t leave especially since Bond–er Bodyguard Bond was eyeing his slice. In the next part, you offered to feed him the rest of his slice of cake.

“Say, ‘ahh’!”

“A-ah.”

Letting his mouth close around your fork he tried to look away from your eyes once more. Failing miserabley as he not only could see your face clearly but the oddly revealing bits your costume had.

“I got it, (Y/n) now keep distracting him.”

The not so silent whisper allowed him to break away looking at Anya, easily making away with the paper that was in his pocket.

“Uh oh, it looks like you have some cake on your face, Count Briar! I’ll get it for you.”

Were-were you going to kiss him?! So soon?! He wasn’t prepared for this! The only kiss he’s ever received like this is from Yor! Would this be his first kiss?!

“Ah-W-wait-?!”

“Got it.”

With a swipe of your thumb from the corner of his lips the point of contention was gone. All he could do was overheat in embarrassment excitement as he watched you sit back to happily lick the frosting away before pridefully striking a pose.

“Waku waku Count Briar we’ve stolen your codes and therefore our mission is complete.”

“Yayy we did it! Victory hugs!”

Yuri watched bewildered as you did a dance with her; moving Bond in tandem with your movements. Completely oblivious to the crisis he could only recover from as he huffed to get everyone’s attention.

“A-alright now we study.”

“Awww but (Y/n) didn’t even do the kiss!”

Yuri stopped feeling an immense sense of being cheated that he couldn’t quite place. You shrugged as you began to take off Anya and Bond’s costumes.

“Sorry Anya but it's not cool to take your Unkie’s kisses! Now let’s get ready to study!”

Yuri pushed these thoughts away as he focused on coaching Loid’s near illiterate spawn as you did chores around their home. Every now and then he let himself stare because this would most certaintly not be the first time he’d find you. He’d figure out why you made him feel this way.

Just you wait.

Part 2: ?

#yandere spy x family #Yandere yuri briar #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere #yanderes #spy x family #yuri briar #anya forger #yuri spy x family #spy x family anime #yandere yuri #yandere Yuri Briar #yor briar #loid forger #possible series

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psychostxr · 2 years

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | text me

PAIRING. kieran valentine x gn! reader

WORD COUNT. 0.9k

WARNINGS. none

NOTES. this took way longer to write than it should have, but it’s here now, so enjoy!

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc.

"So this is Monster High." You stare at the school before you, your heart beating a million kilometers per hour. "It's bigger than I imagined."

"You'll get used to it eventually," your older sister says. "Well, I'm off. Try not to make a fool of yourself!"

Your sister walks ahead of you, unbothered by your dumbfounded expression.

"B-but aren't you going to show me around?" you question, trying to catch up with the person you call a sister.

"Can't!" she replies, "I got to meet up with my friends!"

Your sister wanders into one of the school's hallways, disappearing among the crowd of students that chat away.

"Brat..." you mumble in annoyance.

Crossing your arms, you anxiously look around the room and take notice of the different hallways. Each hallway could lead you to a separate part of the school, but which one were you supposed to follow?

Grumbling, you unzip your schoolbag and rummage around to find the piece of paper that held your class schedule and locker number.

Everything on here but a map, you think, looking at your schedule.

"I haven't seen you around before." You spin around to see a manster who you can only assume is talking to you, but it's hard to tell with the dark shades covering his eyes. "Are you new here?"

You nod. "Yeah... It's kinda my first day."

"Welcome to Monster High! It's always exciting when the school gets new blood," the manster explains. "I'm Deuce, by the way."

"(y/n)."

"Well, (y/n), do you need someone to show you around?"

Your face brightens. "Really? That would be clawsome!"

"No problem," Deuce replies, "We should stop by your locker first to unpack your stuff. Unless you want to carry your bag the entire day?"

"Definitely not," you answer, "So which way to the lockers?"

"Depends on your locker number."

"Right." Glancing at the paper in your hand, you read your number aloud, "116."

"Oh, that's near Cleo's locker. I'll lead you right to it."

As Deuce leads you to your locker, the gorgon points out a few different classrooms, Headmistress Bloodgood's office, the Creepateria, and Study Howl.

"And this is it!" Deuce's fist bangs against your locker. "Locker 116."

"Thanks for showing me to my locker." Unlocking the lock, you hear a quiet click before opening your locker. "You're a better tour guide than my sister could ever be."

Deuce tilts his head. "You have a sister at Monster High?"

"Yep!" you answer, packing unnecessary books into your locker. "She's annoying, but aren't all siblings?"

"I get that."

Closing your locker, you notice a pink-skinned manster staring at you from behind Deuce. Meeting the manster's eyes, his eyes widen in embarrassment. He quickly looks at the floor, ignoring your piercing gaze.

"Hey, who's that?" you question, gesturing towards the manster behind Deuce.

Deuce follows your gesture, catching sight of the pink-skinned manster.

"That would be Valentine. He's a vampire," Deuce explains.

"Is there a reason he's trying to hide from me? Or is he just shy?"

"He probably thinks you've heard of his bad reputation," he says.

"What did he do to earn a bad reputation?" you ask.

"Your sister didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"He put a spell on this ghoul I know and tried to make her fall in love with him." Deuce studies Valentine. "He tried to break her heart, but it failed, rendering him powerless."

"That's..." You pause, unsure of what to think of this situation. "A lot."

"He's good now, though." Deuce turns back to you. "Valentine visits from time to time to help couples deal with their relationship problems. Kinda like cupid," Deuce clarifies to enlighten you.

"Which is good. Right?" you ask. "Valentine realized how much trouble he caused and is now trying to fix his mistake."

The bell rings, officially commencing school hours. Monsters gather their stuff and backpacks and head to their classrooms.

"We should probably get to class now."

You nod your head in agreement, following Deuce to your next class, which happens to be Dead Language. Not your favourite subject, but definitely not your worst.

Too busy caught up in your thoughts, you accidentally bump into someone, knocking them down.

"Oh, my ghoul! I'm so sorry!" you apologize, lending them your hand. "Are you okay?"

Looking down at the monster, you realize it's Valentine. His bright rosy eyes stare into your own, and suddenly you're aware of how attractive the vampire is.

Valentine takes your hand, allowing you to help him up. "I'm okay."

"I'm sorry again," you continue, "I was distracted and wasn't looking where I was going. You're Valentine, right?"

"Yes, and you are...?"

"I'm (y/n). I just transferred to Monster High," you explain. "I heard you don't attend Monster High, though. So if you want, I can keep you up on the groaning around the halls?"

"Why would you do that?" the vampire questions, looking at you with raised brows. "Haven't you heard what I've done?"

"Valentine, I'm just trying to be nice." You smile at the vampire, hoping it reassures him. "I think you could use a friend. So if you could give me your iCoffin, that would be clawsome."

Valentine stares at you for a moment, then quickly takes out his iCoffin and offers it to you. Grinning like the devil, you enter your number into the device and pass it back to him.

"I have to get to class, but text me!"

#kieran valentine #kieran valentine x reader #kieran valentine imagine #kieran valentine x you #monster high #monster high x reader #monster high imagine #monster high x you #deuce gorgon #valentine #valentine x reader #valentine imagine #valentine x you #psychostxr #kieran valentine oneshot #monster high oneshot #valentine oneshot

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dark-angel-of-muses · 6 months

Text

Ace Wedding Night

Look, maybe they should have had this conversation when Ravio moved in. Definitely should have had it by the time they started dating. Absolutely should have had it when Legend proposed.

But it's his wedding night and "should have" isn't helping.

The ceremony was stellar, all the Chain helping take on some work to lighten the load. He'll admit, he cried when Time agreed to be the one to "give him away" since he had no living relatives to do so. Ravio looked stunning in his black wedding gown, a cold shoulder mermaid dress. Impa ordained the whole deal, and Fable hugged and congratulated her brother at the reception.

Honestly, while he was nervous about it in the days leading up to the wedding, Legend had entirely forgotten about tonight. lost in the joy of getting married, and making merry at the reception.

But now it's at the forefront of his mind. Ravio kissed him, long and heated, then said they should both take a shower before they started the rest of the night. The implications weren't lost to Legend, especially when the merchant fixed him with a heated, half-lidded stare.

Legend was stuck in the bathroom, though. He long finished his shower, but didn't move to turn off the water. He was scared. Once he did that, there was no going back. Ravio already showered, dressing in a sheer silk black nightgown. He was probably expecting Legend to come out in his own nightclothes, then they'd kiss and get on the bed and. Ugh.

It was stupid. Legend liked Ravio. He liked the idea of doing something nice for the merchant. Kisses and cuddles were great, and he couldn't get enough of them. But the idea of going further seemed so gross. Even if he tried to imagine it with Ravio, he couldn't get over how little any part of it appealed. Sweat, and saliva, and skin on skin. His stomach lurched.

"Link?" There were two knocks on the bathroom door. "Everything all right in there?"

He should respond. Say he's ok, and burst out in a big romantic gesture to scoop Ravio up and please him. He was a Hero Of Courage, dammit! Something this normal shouldn't be paralyzing him with fear.

"I'm coming in."

Legend wanted to stop him, to reassure him that everything was alright, but fear rendered him mute, just the same as when he was a child staring at his own wanted poster on the castle walls.

Oh, he was crying.

The moment Ravio saw him, he raced to his side in alarm. "Link? Are you ok? Are you hurt? What's going on?" The merchant took Legend's face in his hands, scanning to figure out what was wrong.

Legend tried to respond, but there was a ball of anxiety in his throat. Gently, Legend pushed Ravio back so the merchant could see his hands.

'I'm sorry. It's my fault.' He repeated the apology in circles over his chest.

Ravio switched to sign as well, eyes wide. 'What is? What's wrong?'

'I don't know why I'm scared. I love you." He should explain, but the concept was looming, terrifying. If he named it, it felt like it would break what little hold he still had over his emotions.

Ravio lifted his hands, seeming as if he was trying to sign something but couldn't find the words. This, his mouth formed a little 'o', some realization dawning on him. Then, his hand moved, forming a hook near his cheek with his other index finger crossed over it as he brought it up to his ear.

Legend blinked, uncomprehending. Ravio tilted his head, then nodded in understanding.

'Sorry, that's a sign my friend made up. It's for A-S-E-X-U-A-L.' Ravio fingerspelled quickly. Had he practiced that word a lot?

'Asexual?' Legend repeated the sign Ravio made earlier. Oh, it made sense. Like crossing out 'sex'.

'So are you?' Ravio said, his face filled with a terrifying patience.

Legend hesitated. At least Ravio had heard of the term before. That helped calm the ball of anxiety, albeit only enough for him to speak.

"I am. I'm sorry I didn't warn you earlier. I just- I really do love you. I kept meaning to tell you, but I was so scared you'd think there was something wrong with me, or want to break up," Legend's voice hitched. How cowardly was he? If this was information Ravio was going to break up with him over, he should have told him before they were married! He was scum.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. Bun, look at me?" Ravio used the pad of his thumb to brush away the renewed tears. "I'd suspected something like that, I just didn't want to assume."

"Wait, what?"

"You never initiated or showed any interest, and every time we made out, you'd always stop the moment things started to escalate. I'm not stupid, you know?"

"It's not because of you, I promise. It's like this with everyone, I swear you're beautiful and you look so pretty in that nightgown-" Legend stopped abruptly as Ravio placed a finger on his lips.

"It's ok, I know what asexual means. Hilda is the same way. She got so frustrated with suitors not understanding that she wasn't interested in going farther with anyone. They always thought they were this exception, or they'd convert her. I know it isn't about me." Ravio smiled softly, grabbing Legend's hands to hold them reassuringly.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you," Legend hiccuped.

"I know it's scary. A lot of people wouldn't react well." Ravio squeezed his hands gently.

"Do you want to split up?" It was a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

Ravio had the gall to laugh at him. "If I needed sex, our relationship wouldn't have lasted this long. It's ok, I can take care of myself. If all you want is cuddles and kisses, I've been prepared for that."

Legend squeezed Ravio's hands back. All that fear melted away in a single sentence. It was almost unfair. "I love you so much."

"I know." Ravio kissed him, and when Legend cried, they both knew they were happy tears this time.

#lu legend #lu ravio #asexuality #ravio x link #ravioli #muse writes #muse's ravioli week #raviolink #ravio #linked universe #loz ravio #fanfic #albw ravio #ravio zelda

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tojikai · 2 years

Text

Closest to Heaven

PART I: Fix You | PART II: The Sun Will Rise | PART III: Closest to Heaven | PART IV: Open Arms

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of death, pregnancy

"Is there a way back to you?”

Toji pressed his back on the door as he saw the image of you driving away in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes tight and clenched his fist as the burning ache covered his whole chest, rendering him breathless.

He never thought that watching someone walk out of his life could hurt this much because he's always been so independent. He believed that the most painful thing that a person could go through is to watch the person that they love slowly lose their life.

But the most excruciating pain is to mourn for someone who's still breathing and alive.

The night after you left, Toji had to eat with a crying Megumi in front of him. For the first time in all the years that he had to raise his son alone, Toji didn't know what to do. The boy was sobbing, hiccupping in front of his plate as he rubbed his eyes every now and then.

"Stop crying, Megumi. You're eating." He spoke softly, reaching over to wipe the tears that reached his chin. The boy moved away from his touch as he chewed on the food with tears cascading down his cheeks as he soundlessly wept.

He knows that his son is smart, but he's still just a boy. He understands that right now, all he could do was cry. But Toji—he could have done more. He could've done more to make you stay. Toji realized that you're already close to him. He realized that he didn't even have to do anything to hold you near because you were already there beside him all this time.

And he was the one who kept pulling away from you.

"What did you do?" Megumi asked him, sniffing as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes are sore and red from crying. It was a rare sight to Toji because he's never seen Megumi cry this hard before—not even when he learned of what happened to his mom.

"I…I wasn't treating Y/N right." Toji tried his best to put everything in the simplest term so he would understand. He doesn't know how it sounds to a 12-year-old, but it must've sounded unpleasant enough that his son is now looking at him with a scowl on his face. He knows fully well that this might make Megumi hate him, but he doesn't want to lie to him just to protect himself.

"After all that she did for us? You couldn't treat her, right?" Megumi sobbed, his lips starting to quiver as he dropped his spoon and fork on his plate. Toji felt like he was being stabbed as the words came out of his son's mouth.

It hurts because it's true.

"I don't understand, dad. How bad was it that she had to leave? She never left us before. She's always been here for you and for me. I cannot see what you think she lacked that made you hurt her like that." Megumi was full-on crying now as he ranted to his dad. Toji thought that maybe this was the question that you asked yourself too.

He made you question yourself and your worth.

Toji couldn't answer Megumi. Under the warm light of their kitchen, Megumi's small and strained cries is the only thing that can be heard. It kept echoing around his head, sending solid waves that left cracks in his heart.

"Why, dad?" Megumi bawled as he harshly rubbed his feet together under the table, his small hands clenched in fists as he tried to contain all his frustrations and anger. Megumi couldn't accept it. This was the first time he's witnessed someone so close walk out of his life, and he just couldn't understand why it had to happen.

"I love your mom too much, 'gumi." Toji said weakly as he looked down, diverting his eyes from the pained look on his son's face.

"She's long gone!" Megumi bellowed, slamming his fists on the table, clattering the plates atop it. It might sound like Megumi doesn't care for his mom, but when one thinks about it, it is a relatively easy thing to say for someone who never got to know the deceased person.

"Don't say that. She gave birth to you! She loved us!" Toji snapped, taken aback by the harsh truth of his son's words. He slammed his fist on the table, too, scaring the child but not enough for his stubbornness to subside.

"But she's never coming back, dad! Even if you call for her every day, she'll never come back!" Megumi jumped from his seat to sit on the floor. His familiar words sunk into Toji like they never had before.

"I know she sacrificed a lot of things for me, dad. But she's never coming back." Megumi cried to his knees, and Toji rushed to his feet to pick his son up. He didn't expect him to break down like this. Toji stood up to pull the kid to him, making him stand up to cry on his body instead. Megumi's shoulders tremble as he clenched his fist on his father's shirt.

And for the first time, Toji wished you were there instead of his wife.

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"Dad?!" Megumi called for what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning. It's been two weeks, and not a day had passed without him calling for his dad and asking where his things went. Everything in their house seems to go missing after you left.

The first morning without you was the most chaotic morning he's ever had in years. Even if there were only two of them in the house, everything was all over the place. They spent half of it looking for his lunch box.

They had already opened every cupboard, flipped every table upside down, and checked every corner of the house. They basically flipped every room inside it. They even looked for it under the sink and under his bed, only to find it inside his school bag, with the leftovers from when he slept over at Yuuji's.

He brought it as snack storage for their game night, and since you left almost right after he got back from Yuuji's house, you weren't able to take it out. You were always the one to get it from his bag the moment he got home from school every day.

Now, he has to do it himself.

"What is it?" Toji stood by the boy's doorway, fixing his necktie, which was poorly matched with his shirt and trousers. Megumi always had to ask him to change its color because the colors of his choice never looked good together.

Toji bitterly told him that you always picked them for him, so he kind of forgot how to do it himself.

"Where's my neckerchief?" He asked as he tried to avoid stepping on his clothes that got thrown around the room in his futile attempts to find the accessory. His bed was still not made yet and probably won't be made until he gets back today.

"Your necker-what?" Toji furrowed his eyebrows stepping inside his room to look around, scoffing at the mess.

"What is this? You pulled everything out." Toji opened his cabinet's door wider to see all clothes gone from the rack and now on the floor. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and his eyebags made it look like he had aged a whole year in only two weeks. Megumi can tell that your absence affects his father just as much as it affects him.

Megumi could see the image of Toji before you came into their life materialize again in front of his eyes, getting clearer and more apparent as days went by. He could only stand and watch as the hole in his heart tatter at the edges every time your name gets mentioned.

The boy's mind and experience grew faster than they should because they have to. Having no mother by his side forced him to mature quicker than he should. He understands what happened between the two of you. He understands why you left them. Because you're spent.

His father spent your overflowing love, and now you're broke with nothing left to give, even to yourself.

"Because I can't find it." He whined, stomping his boots on the floor. "My scouting ceremony starts in 20 minutes, dad." He scratched his head, watching his father pick up some of the clothes.

"I used it last year, right?" The boy asked, throwing all the remaining fabric around him to check if they got mixed with them. He remembered that last year you were there to watch him. You took many pictures that day and compiled them in a photobook which he mentally noted to look for later.

"I don't know where it is, but I'm sure she kept them." He murmured as his dad pulled out the tie organizer at the bottom of the cabinet. There, his neckerchief was neatly rolled along with its slider. Toji sat on the bed, beckoning Megumi to come to him so he could fix it around his neck.

"Do you miss her?" He softly asked the boy, who only hummed in response rubbing his eyes that started to tear up in frustration. Toji knows you too well to know where you'd put stuff like this. Just like his closet, all are in categories so that it'd be easy to find them.

"I'll get her back." Megumi believed his father's words. They're meant to give him hope, but when he thinks about what you probably endured while you're with his dad made him doubt that you'll ever come back to them.

And if you don't, it'd be his first heartbreak.

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3 years later

"Mom?" You heard someone say as you checked the pack of pasta in your hands. Knowing that the person couldn't possibly be referring to you, you didn't turn around.

You noticed a figure standing next to you and turned your gaze to them, a small smile still plastered on your lips. The person looked shocked as if the realization that they got the wrong person just registered in their brain. You looked at them quizzically when they didn't say anything else and were about to turn around when you noticed their familiar spiky hair.

The boy definitely didn't get the wrong person.

You wouldn't forget the first kid who made you feel like a mother. Before you know it, tears have already started to form in your eyes.

"Megumi?" You asked them, trying to blink away the burning hotness in your waterline to avoid causing a scene in such a public place.

Without saying anything, you pulled Megumi into an embrace, feeling him hug you back hesitantly as if he wasn't sure if he was still allowed to do it.

You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him 3 years ago. You wanted to apologize for making him feel like he was so easy to leave behind, but the shake of his shoulders made you pull away to look at his face. You watched him wipe his tears quickly, sniffing before giving you a sad yet understanding smile that made your chest hurt.

"I'm sorry." You whispered as you wiped away the trails of tears that fell down from his eyes. He's almost as tall as you now, and you feel a sense of sadness swell in your heart as you think of all the years you missed.

"It's okay; I understand more now." He gave you a small kind smile. "You had to.". He looked more like his father now that he's grown.

Right. His father. Is Toji with him?

"I'm by myself." Megumi spoke as if reading your mind before continuing, "If it's okay, we can catch up in a café on the other side of the street." He asked, watching your face.

"Of course, 'gumi." You sighed in relief. You didn't realize that you were worried that he might be angry at you or hate you for what you did.

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"How have you been?" Megumi asked as he sat down in front of you with the drinks. He sounded so different from the boy you used to take care of. You didn't even recognize him when he called you 'mom' earlier.

That was the first time he called you that. You thought that it must be why he looked surprised when you turned to face him. He must've been shocked by his own words too, but it made you feel warm.

"I'm doing great. I…I just got hired to teach in a high school around here." You smiled at him, seeing his shoulders relax a bit when he noticed the lilt in your voice. He must've been worried about you all these years.

After you left, despite Toji's statement on how he'd let you and Megumi talk, you didn't really contact each other. He's just a kid, and he probably only uses his phone to play games or check school group chats.

You didn't really expect him to call. You, on the other hand, had to stop yourself so many times because you knew that if you were to call him, it'd only be harder for the both of you.

"I'm sorry I didn't call." You sighed as you took a sip of your coffee.

"It's alright. I know that you needed time away from my dad to heal." Your breath hitched at the word that he used—heal. He really understands what happened between you and his father now. You wondered how Toji explained everything to him after you left.

"If you contacted me back then, you'd probably end up going back to us. Because I'd beg you to." He laughed a bit, looking down as he slightly blushed from his honesty.

"How about you? How are you? How's your fa…Toji, How's Toji?" You almost sighed when you realized that his name didn't make your heart hurt anymore. It used to make you walk out of a conversation whenever he's mentioned.

You couldn't count how many times you contemplated on running back to his arms and build his home again, even if you had to build it alone. You couldn't count how many nights you cried yourself to sleep because the bed felt too cold without him beside you, even if it was just his body beside you and not his heart.

His name doesn't break your heart anymore, and you don't know if it's because you've finally moved on from him or if it's because your heart is ready to take him in again.

"I'm doing good; my grades are good." The conversation probably sounded like it was between a son and mother who are casually meeting at a café to catch up.

It's because it was. To Megumi, you and his dad had separated, and now, you are the mother who's trying to check up on his son.

"And my dad, he's… he's better now, Y/N." Megumi said it with a purpose—like he's trying to convince you, and he could only hope that his message would get through. He had never not dreamt of the day that you'd come back home to them again.

"He… he's moved on." He breathed out, his eyes looking directly into yours as if seeking some type of reaction, some sort of emotion, some hope that his family could be whole again. It took you a full minute to realize that he was talking about his mom.

He's saying that his dad finally moved on from his mom.

"That's great. He can safely start anew." You could only offer these words laced with kindness and relief, and it was definitely not what Megumi was hoping for. He doesn't want you to say 'start anew.' But rather, his wish to hear you say that you could finally 'start over again.'

"I can call him over, Y/N. He'd be more than happy to meet you." He rushed to pull out his phone, but the worry in your eyes made him pause. "It's okay, right? You could finally talk it through… right?" His eyes were begging you.

"I…I have something to attend to, actually. This afternoon." You cleared your throat as you forced to plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face. You could see the light in Megumi's eyes dim away as he processed your words. Once again, you felt the familiar tight feeling in your chest. The same as what you felt when you walked out of their house.

"Oh," He blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words to say. He was trying to think of a way to get you and his father to meet again, and maybe—just maybe, he could finally have his family again.

"Then…then next time, Y/N. Is…is your number, uhm, I'll get your number, Y/N. So I can call you, and we can all meet outside or in the house or anywhere you want." Megumi couldn't let you go now. Not when you're already within their reach again.

"Y/N… Dad's been looking for you." He covered the shake in his voice with a chuckle, but he could tell that you noticed when the look in your eyes changed. Megumi used to be a grumpy kid, but he looked almost vulnerable in front of you right now.

Meeting with Toji and Megumi was already in your plans when you came back to this city about a week ago. But you didn't think that it would happen this soon.

"Okay," You reached for his phone, seeing him sigh in relief as he thanked you in a soft voice.

You'd have to do it anyway. You'd have to meet and talk with Toji again, eventually. You can't keep running away and hiding everything when you know damn well that Toji has the right to know.

It would be best to talk it through as early as possible. So, the both of you can start fresh again with your new lives.

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“She used to take a sip of your coffee before giving it to you.” Toji remembers his son saying one morning. He reminisced of the mornings that you made breakfast for them, and Megumi was right—you always tasted his coffee first before handing it to him.

“She wants to make sure it’s good,” Megumi murmured as he drank the soup from the bowl. Toji was relieved that he’s finally stopped crying and asking for you every day.

He used to have fits when he got frustrated with something—anything, and then he’d start asking for you, yelling at his father for making you leave.

Then he’d say sorry afterward, just like what you always told him. He’d say sorry and admit his mistakes like you always taught him whenever he’s done something wrong.

Toji missed you every day. It got to the point where he was regularly asking your friends if they had heard about you. Had they said yes, he would’ve begged them to tell him where you are just so he could take you back home.

When you left, Toji promised himself that he would finally let go of his deceased wife.

He went to her grave a week after you left—when it all started to sink in. He told her about you and why you left. He told her about you, and how you set yourself ablaze just to keep him and his son warm even when he refused to give you just a spark. Toji was too tough to cry but not when his backbone was missing.

“She didn’t even ask me to forget about you. She was just asking for a space to put herself in. And I failed to give her that.”

He recalled weeping in front of her grave as he grieved for you. He remembered his tears staining his dead wife’s tombstone as he screamed all his laments for you. He called for your name as he cried his heart out in front of her wife’s memorial. He wailed and yowled, but no one consoled him. No one offered him solace.

Because his wife is dead, and unlike you, she can never hold him now.

She was long gone, but you were there. She has been dead for years, but you were in front of him. All the times he broke down for her, you were there to pick him up. But now that you are gone who will put his pieces back together as he crumbles for you?

He traded the beats of your heart for the chilling howls of the wind. He traded your warmth for the cold touch of her tombstone.

Back then, Toji used to wake up in the middle of the night to wear his and his wife’s wedding band as you sleep soundly next to him. Now, he wakes up to touch your side of the bed in hopes that you finally came home, that you never left and that it was all a dream—a wake-up call for him to finally let go of the deceased.

As days went by, Toji’s wife left his dreams, and instead, there was you. He called for you loud enough to send Megumi running to his room, thinking that you had come back. He had to hold the kid all night to soothe down his cries and endure the punches of his small fists in his chest.

All of your mutual friends asked for you, and he could still remember the sympathetic look in their eyes when he told them that you left. He couldn’t blame them for looking at him that way because he really is a pitiful man without you by his side.

Megumi was never as talkative as when you were with him. Breakfast and dinners are spent in silence, save from the occasional questions about his day and school. Every day he prayed that he’d run into you in any place that he goes to. Even just to see your face.

All this time, he abstained from any sort of physical touch with anyone else. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to push through it even if he closed his eyes and covered his ears the entire time.

What he did was fantasize about the images of you that he burned in his mind, and that’s enough.

He couldn’t count how many times he wanted to get wasted, drown his heart in alcohol until he couldn’t feel that you were not beside him anymore. He wanted to numb himself just until the day that you were back. But he needs to be better. And that’s certainly not the road to that.

Slowly, he learned to keep away the things he and his late wife used to share. The bedside drawer got cleaned, and the pictures were kept in a dedicated photobook—even the one in his wallet and everything he used to hold on to were moved into a single box.

Now, all of his heart is free for you to take. All of the spaces inside it are yours to occupy.

“Dad!” Toji’s head snapped at the sound of Megumi’s voice. He never sounded this happy and excited ever since you left. What could possibly be making him this joyful right now? He turned off the stove to meet him in the living room. His son was stumbling on his feet to take off his shoes.

“I finally found her.” Megumi spoke to him, and Toji almost felt like he’s been resuscitated alive. Megumi found you. You’re back. You came back. He can finally make it up to you. He can finally love you properly.

He can finally take away your years of pain.

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The day has come, and Toji can't remember ever feeling this nervous in his whole life. He imagined how you would look as he sat in his car waiting for his son. Three years is a long time for a man who's waiting, and now his long wait is finally coming to an end.

"Let's go," Megumi jumped in the passenger side with a slight glow on his face. It's been a while since he saw this look on his son's face and his smile almost looked unfamiliar to Toji as he glanced at him in the car mirror.

"How does she look?" Toji asked him, swallowing. He wasn't able to ask so many questions when Megumi delivered the news to him. He only asked when and where you'll meet. He wanted to call you that night. Tell you to prepare your stuff, and he could just pick you up and take you home.

"Even more beautiful," Megumi answered, smiling at him. "I, uh, accidentally called her mom out loud when I saw her at the supermarket." He added, shaking his head as he let out an embarrassed sigh.

All this time, Megumi's been calling you mom.

'When's mom coming back?', 'I wanna go to mom.', 'Let's just look for mom.' Was all that ever escaped his lips whenever he's having a bad day. Those were the days when Megumi really felt that he had lost someone dear to his heart; when it started looking for you.

They arrived 20 minutes early at the location. It was a small café, the place was quiet, and there were only a few people inside. They're either busy talking to someone on their phones or have their noses stuck in a book or laptop. They're all too busy to even look at someone who walked in.

"We went here when I ran into her. We caught up but only for a short time because she has somewhere to be." Megumi spoke as they picked a spot in a corner near the windows. Toji wondered what you did during the past few years. He wondered if you were able to find yourself again after what happened, and he really hoped that you did.

He also hoped that you'd find your way back to him.

He thought about where you went that even your friends never met you. At some point, he thought that maybe you went abroad to get away from him as far as possible. There's one thought that always crossed his mind, but he always shook off, and now, it's back in it again.

What if you met someone new? What if you already built your own family?

Toji gulped hard and bit his lip, causing Megumi, who was sitting in front of him, to tap him on the shoulder. The thought was so vivid that he could almost see you carrying a toddler on your hip as you kissed a guy inside a car, waving him goodbye as he rolled the windows up.

"Dad, she's here." He could hear Megumi's shaky intake of breath as he tried to shake away his imagination. But it won't go away. The thought of you with a kid looks so real. Motherhood has never looked this good on someone, Toji thought. The images in his head started to look more and more realistic.

Because it was real.

There you are, in all your glory, with a pretty little girl. You looked so beautiful－even more with a baby, and Toji could almost feel the tears pooling in his eyes as you looked at him with a sad look in your eyes. You stopped in front of them, opening your mouth before looking at the little girl you were carrying.

"Toji," You began as he took a deep breath, scanning your face. He wanted to kiss you, hug you, pull you to him, and breathe in the scent of your hair that he missed all these years.

"How have you been?" You sighed as you tried to smile kindly at him. Megumi was shocked. He didn't know that you already have a family. A family that he could now never have. He couldn't blame you. He couldn't hate you for it. He noticed how you avoided the topic of working things out with his dad when he first met you. You also didn't say anything about fixing things with him, so he couldn't be mad at you.

Toji wanted to say, 'I'm better for you now, Y/N.' but he ended up answering with, "I'm good, just alright. I'm glad you're doing well," He can feel all of his pieces losing their hold on each other as they collapse within him. Of all the things he imagined, you moving on and starting a family with someone else is the scariest one.

But it seemed to be coming to life now. It seemed to be getting real, and it hurts so fucking much because Toji knows that it could've been him.

Megumi sat down as if to initiate all of you to do so too. He couldn't bring himself to speak. He feared that if he did, he'd end up crying.

His mom has a new family, and now, he's got no place in her life anymore.

Toji smiled kindly at the little girl as you sat her beside you. She was staring intently at him, tilting her head as if she was trying to read his face. She played with the ribbon on her dress, showing it to him which made him smile.

Was the kid's father the guy who stayed with you during those times that you cried for him? Was he the one who fixed you and made you see your worth again?

The toddler's face is as pretty as yours. Her cute dimples show as she sucked on her Carebears pacifier. Her dark hair made the blush on her cheek and nose even more prominent. She got bright green eyes—like his.

"She's yours." You spoke, and he could almost feel the world stop turning.

"What?" He breathed out, seeing Megumi also tense up beside him in the corner of his eyes. The guy that dropped you off in front of the café wasn't the kid's father.

"She's my sister?" Megumi croaked, staring at the little girl who pulled the pacifier out of her mouth, handing it to you.

They could see her face clearer now, and while it's true that the girl's got the shape of your lips and eyes, the fact that she's Toji's daughter cannot be denied. Her dark locks that fall in the same way as his and the same shade of green that coats her irises speak loud enough.

"I'm sorry," You lifted the kid, sitting her on your lap to help them have a closer look at her. The little one stared at them with her big eyes, and Toji could now see that she got his lashes too. This is his daughter, he thought. He has a baby girl with you. Like you always wanted back then.

You have a kid with him. Toji had to repeat it inside his mind. The information just won't sink in. He can't believe the words even if he heard them with his own ears. He wants to hold his baby girl. He wants to be close to her just so he knows that she's real.

"Can I hold her?" He asked you cautiously as he tried to steady his hands from trembling. Toji didn't know that you were pregnant when you left. Had he known, he wouldn't have let you go, even if it meant getting on his knees in the middle of the street to ask you to stay.

"Aimi, baby. Go to daddy." You spoke softly to the little girl, glancing at Toji. You ushered her to take baby steps towards him, glancing at Megumi, who's also staring at the toddler. His eyes are bright and shining, and just like his dad— he's wonderstruck. The baby slowly made her way to Toji as she held on to the table's edge.

"Dada," She giggled as she reached him, and Toji almost broke down in tears as he heard her babble the words repeatedly.

"She's a good kid. She's never whiny, never fussy." You sniffed.

"You hid her from me?" He spoke out the question inside his mind with a slight accusatory look on his face. You feared this. You feared that he would hate you for keeping your daughter a secret from him. You know that he'd get angry after it all sinks into him. After he completely takes in the information that you kept his daughter away from him.

Megumi watched you as you cried to the heel of your palm, suppressing the sounds for the sake of the people around you. You know that you were wrong. You prepared yourself for Toji's anger when you decided on finally showing Aimi to him. Flashbacks flooded your mind as you kept your head down, avoiding both of their gazes.

Your hands shook as you stared at the pregnancy tests in front of you. Two lines. There are two lines in all of the pregnancy tests. Not just one, but five. That's why you've been feeling sick and tired all the time. It's been 5 weeks since you left, and you didn't even notice that you missed a period because of everything that's been going on.

You settled down in a new city, looked for a part-time job to fully cover your bills, and had to explain some things to your family. Thankfully they understood and supported you with your decision to move away for a little while. Just a week ago, when your mom visited and stayed for a couple of days, she said that you've been moody since you separated from Toji. You both assumed that it was just because of stress.

You didn't even consider that this could be the reason. Because you always have safe sex with Toji. It's either he uses a condom, or he does it outside. It slipped your mind that none of these two happened when you did it for the last time before you left.

"Fuck," You sat on the toilet, leaning your head on one of your hands as you clutched your phone in the other. You stared at the dark screen, contemplating whether you'd call Toji. Part of you wants to call him and ask him to take you home, but the other part of you stopped your finger from tapping on his name.

He might not want this.

How can he want something like this with me when he doesn't even want to marry me? You cried in your palm as you remembered how it all happened. Toji wants his wife, not you. His dream family is with her and not you.

What makes you think he'd want to have and raise a kid with you?

Your heart broke even more as your hand caressed your stomach, promising to protect the growing life inside you, even if it meant that you'd have to do it alone. You didn't want to force Toji into this. You didn't want him to feel obligated to love or marry you just because he got you pregnant.

You snapped out of your memories when Megumi grabbed your hand. When you looked up, Toji was staring at you with a dejected look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Toji. It was never my intention to keep her away from you. I-I was just scared. I thought you didn't want this with me. I didn't want to force you into something just because we have a kid, I—" You cried, and this time he stood up to sit next to you with his daughter still in his arms.

He can't bring himself to be mad at you for hiding his daughter. He rejected your idea of getting married. Of course, you would think that he doesn't want to have something like this with you.

He doesn't know if his tears were because of the bittersweet happiness brought by the fact that the two of you have a living proof of the love that you once shared or if they're because you thought that he wouldn't want a child with you. You took care of your baby all while you're hurting and healing from your exhausting relationship with him.

"No...no, I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to say it like that. I understand why you did it. I'll make up for all that I've missed this time. I swear." He hushed, pulling you to cry on his shoulder and rub your back. You basked in his warmth for a few moments, his familiar scent filled your senses, and it all started coming back to you. Him, you, Megumi, and the newest addition to your family. It was a beautiful moment.

You don't understand how the person who broke you could make you feel complete at the same time.

His eyes are glued back to Aimi as the little girl traces the scar on his lip, pouting hers. You could feel the guilt slip out of your heart and crawl up to your throat, erupting in the form of small airy sobs.

"Boo-boo," Her brows lowered as she pulled them closer together to express her sadness over her dad's scar. The kid caressed Toji's cheeks, and a soft smile made its way to his lips as she laughed at his reaction.

She's just as curious as you, Toji thought as he was reminded of when you first met him. You said the scar on his lip looks cool, smiling up at him like he wasn't a stranger you just met at a department store.

"You can have her at weekends or the days when you don't have work. I'll drop her off at your house." With that statement, Toji was pulled back to his painful reality.

You moved on with someone new, and Toji knows that he's probably treating you better than Toji ever did, but it hurts more now that he found out that you have a kid, yet you wouldn't be able to raise her together.

He'll be watching on the sidelines as you build a family with someone new, the family he could've had but refused to give you.

"I'll talk with my boyfriend about the occasions where we have to be together for Aimi. I'm sure he'll understand."

So you're not married yet. Toji felt terrible for almost letting out a sigh of relief that you're not tied to your boyfriend yet. He felt bad for having the idea of asking you to start over again when you're clearly happy with someone else, but how else should he feel?

You're already here. Will he really give you up just like that?

"...Was he the one who helped you raise her?" He asked, his voice sounding hoarser than it should, and his eyes looked as dull as they could be. You know that it hurts him. You know that he must've waited for you but what can you do? You already have someone. He made you feel valid, and he appreciated you when you couldn't even appreciate yourself.

"No, not really. We only met 10 months ago." You looked down, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes anymore. You didn't mean to get into a relationship, but it just happened. You were lonely, and he gave you all the attention and validation that your heart had been craving.

But Toji wants you. He needs you. And there's nothing he wouldn't give to be someone you love again.

Before Toji knew it, tears had already made their way down his face. After all the nights he spent crying, he thought that there wouldn't be enough tears to fall from his eyes anymore. But this day proved that wrong.

"Toji…" You whispered as you held his hand. Your eyes spoke the words ‘sorry’ to him as the cold air of the café dried his tears. He's pathetic. How could he expect you to come back to him when he's the one who tore you apart? Up until now, he's still selfish.

While you were trying to fix and heal yourself from Toji, someone came along and made you feel everything he should've made you feel when you were still with him. 10 months ago, this man came into your life and made you feel like you're the only woman in his heart.

Toji met you 6 years ago and made you feel like a bed warmer in the 3 years that you are together.

The sentence knocked the wind out of Toji's lungs as he thought of how you cried your heart out to him that day, cursing yourself for not being enough for him, questioning yourself if you're even worth loving.

Megumi takes his sister from Toji as he watches his father's emotions unravel in front of him. Everything was still too much for him, and once again, he didn't know how things would go for them now that you're finally here but not with them. You gave him a little sister like he always hinted to you and his dad back then. But will you ever become a whole family again?

"Can't we… can't we start over, Y/N?" Toji gripped your hand. Desperation was evident in his voice and eyes as he moved closer to you. You didn't know how to answer. You know that someone else is already in your life, but you still find it hard to utter the word 'no.'

Maybe you still have feelings Toji. But what about your boyfriend, who supported you through this? You can't just leave him like that. He made you feel seen. He made you feel important.

Before you know it, you're already shaking your head at Toji, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry.' He kissed your knuckles as his shoulders slightly shook.

He looked so, so fragile before you, and you wondered if he felt like this when you were breaking down and begging for his love back then, too. He pulled away, sniffing before giving you a rueful smile and nodding his head. He's accepting his defeat.

He's accepting that he lost you when you walked out of their door 3 years ago.

"I'm always here. I'll always wait for you, Y/N." Toji uttered in a rough voice, tracing your ring fingers, and it took everything in you not to take back what you said and run away with him.

Because this man was the first person who taught you how to love. And you thought that maybe if the heart and fates allow, you will find your way back to each other again.

Maybe not today, maybe not in this life—you don't know exactly when. But one day.

-------------------------------------------------------

Aimi was in Megumi's lap and playing with him when your boyfriend came to pick you up. You were a bit worried about introducing him to Toji because you feel like Toji isn't happy about him, and you were right cause right now, your ex is staring your boyfriend down with Aimi in his arms.

Megumi elbowed him when he stood up intimidatingly but still reached out his hand to acknowledge your boyfriend, who is not a fan of him either. Aimi kissed his dad and brother goodbye, clinging to them as if sensing their connection.

You wonder what things would be like if you were not in this situation. You wonder what things would be like if you chose to go back home to Toji when you found out about your baby.

It left a stinging pain in your heart. You didn't think that seeing Toji again could bring so many feelings back to life.

"We'll be going now. I'll contact you when I'm dropping Aimi off." You breathed out before swallowing. You found it hard to tear your daughter away from his dad and brother. They already missed the first part of her life; you felt bad for taking her away after just a short time.

Megumi gave you a hug before you left, and before you could even get near Toji, your boyfriend was already snatching you away. You could see Toji's jaw clench for a brief second as he gazed at your boyfriend's hand snaking around your waist.

You gave Toji a small, apologetic smile before breaking away from your boyfriend to give him a hug—a tight one.

Because you missed him. And there's no way you could deny it.

Toji wanted to threaten your boyfriend. He wanted to tell him that he'd break his neck if he breaks your heart, but he knows that it could backfire on him because he broke you first, so he held himself back.

Aimi was waving at Megumi over your shoulder as you walked between the cafe seats. Toji could only stare and plaster a smile for his baby girl as your boyfriend snakes a hand around your waist—the position where Toji should be.

He thought that seeing you get married to someone else was the most painful thing he could ever witness. He didn't think that you'd be walking away with his daughter and another man the next time he met you.

He watched you put Aimi in her car seat before giving him one last look before getting in the passenger seat. At that moment, Toji felt helpless. Like the ground is slowly swallowing him whole, and the world around him is caving in. He felt Megumi's hand on his back as he took in a shaky breath.

Toji imagined how your lips would feel on his; how they'd move in sync with his after the years you spent apart. He imagined how light your touches would be on his skin as you trace the patterns of his veins.

He imagined how perfectly your hand would fit in his as he make love to you all night. Toji promised himself that he'd take away all your years of pain when you're finally within his reach again.

But how is he going to do all of that when someone's already doing it for you?

He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the velvet box touch his fingertips. His tongue tasted bitter as he recalled the day he bought the ring. Toji said that he'd finally ask you to marry him when you finally meet again. He'd finally offer you all of his heart like he should've done years ago.

But how is he supposed to do that now that someone else is holding your hand?

Toji feared that he'll lose you completely, but when he found out about his daughter, he felt a bittersweet relief. He'll never lose his ties with you because Aimi will forever connect you together.

He will see you with your boyfriend. Toji knows that. He will see you being happy with someone else, and Toji knows that it will kill him, but he'd rather die than see you lose your smile again. He promised that if you did, he wouldn't miss the chance to give it back to you.

If Toji has to love you from afar, then that's fine by him. If he has to love you all by himself, then that's okay. He will see you every week, spend time together for Aimi, and that's enough for him.

It's better than not having any idea where you are at all.

If this is the closest that Toji could ever get to you right now, if this is the closest to heaven that he'll ever get, then that's enough.

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