#Haven’t been fond of the idea of sleeping lately.

[puzz1e-master]

dude how long has it been since you slept you’ve been talking about researching for AGES now

Hmm?

Oh. I believe I’ve lost track.

…Research is more important.

Although, I should probably clean before my.. ahem- date…

:)

-Puzzlemaster

[cloudwisp]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. his favorite coat has gone missing, and he bets you have something to do with it. 1.3k wc.

You came to miss Wriothesley these past two weeks—so terribly much that you decided a small change in his morning routine was due to keep him from leaving your cozy little apartment so soon and make his return back to the Fortress before the sunrise.

He’s been working double-time recently, something about Fatui spies on his territory so you were patient and understanding while he handled the urgent matter to get it under control. But you quickly came down with an extreme case of the lover’s yearning syndrome because you haven’t spent any proper time with him.

And no, the few fleeting moments you’d both share where he carefully scoops you up in his arms when he comes back to you in the middle of the night, and him pressing a tender kiss to your forehead murmuring good morning to you before he disappears again hardly counts. But you suppose the underworld doesn’t run itself and you had to make do with what you were given until it’s no longer enough.

When comes the promised sunlight streaming through the windows laying a warm caress on your cheek, you peek behind your comforter at the sound of Wriothesley moving around in your home. He’s already handsomely dressed, except for the large missing coat which he’s searching for now. And he doubts it ran away on its own from where he last tossed it onto a nearby chair when he lets himself in. His suspicions are further confirmed when he catches a glimpse of you playing pretend in his peripherals.

There’s a knowing smirk on his face as his weight dips on the edge of the bed, and he watches you shift in your sleep in a cute mess of limbs with the blanket following your movements. “Sweetheart, do you have any ideas where my coat has gone?” He reaches out to push away the stray strands of hair from your eyes, and he’s a little amused at how you’re playing coy when you give him the same sleepy hum like you usually do.

Oh, aren’t you so adorable. Stealing the Duke’s coat and stowing it away somewhere safe because you just want him all to yourself, don’t you? Even if just for a few more measly minutes you’re more than happy to cherish every precious second, until you decide you want more of course. And now he’s running late, what’s he gonna do with you?

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea who the culprit is.” Even as he teases, there’s a gentle fondness in his gaze at your endearing display. Though that seemed to rouse you out of your peaceful slumbering state, and your eyes slowly flutter open offering him another hum with a tilt of your head.

“What’s this talk about culprit so early in the morning?” He chuckles softly, but he can reserve a moment to appreciate the soft glow of the morning light casting over you. He missed this and he missed seeing your beautiful smile that matches the warmth of the sun, even if there’s a bit of mischief along the curve of it.

“The culprit as in, I have my reasons to believe you’re the mastermind behind my coat’s disappearance.”

“What makes you think I had something to do with it? Didn’t we learn anything from the collection of law books Clorinde gave you where you need to provide evidence if you’re accusing someone?” You’re toying with the fabric of his tie and your avoidant gaze only adds to your guilty-looking form. He sighs in amusement, you are making this way too easy for him to see right through you—and he actually likes the fact that you’re one terrible liar.

“Call it a hunch,” he replies with a small tug of his lips. “Besides, there’s only you and I here so the evidence points to you. Now, will you tell me where it is, darling?”

“Oh, alright.” Since he asked so nicely. You pull yourself upright, crossing your arms over your chest with your teeth gently biting down on your index finger with furrowed brows as you try and recall where you had last seen it. “Hm, seems we have a little problem. I just can’t remember where I placed it. Maybe a kiss would help jog my memory?” There’s a teasing glint in your gaze as you look back at him with innocent doe-like eyes, but there’s no denying the smirk on your pretty lips.

Wriothesley’s laugh is soft and affectionate, unable to help himself at your words. So that’s what you’ve been scheming, wasn’t it? Cute. He didn't account for the fact you'd admit to your crimes so quickly. But there’s never a dull moment with the love of his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way when you have a talent for small surprises.

“Time is ticking~ And Your Grace has places to be, doesn’t he?” He feels the clement pull of his tie and you eagerly close in on the distance between you and him as your warm breath fans over his skin.

“A kiss, you say? You drive a hard bargain.” He murmurs teasingly and his hand settles on your hip, giving you a light and playful squeeze. “And where shall I give you the kiss then? Here, perhaps...?” He presses a quick chaste kiss to your forehead. “Or here?” He says now while kissing your nose, and you giggle when he peppers two more on either side of your cheeks.

“Or even here…?” He draws back slightly, the pad of his thumb running over the supple flesh of your bottom lip. With the brush of his knuckles against your skin, his hand moves to the back of your neck as he leans in once more and gently coaxes your lips with his own in a blissful exchange. At the pleasant feeling of your smile against the kiss, his arm encircles your waist and he easily hoists you onto his lap and steals your breath away with a growing fervor when he’s reminded of how you taste.

It’s familiar and sensual and intimate. He exhales breathlessly with flushed cheeks when you both have to part to fill your lungs back with air and you notice the soft upward quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips as he rests his forehead against yours. He could never blame you for wanting a little bit more love because he has been missing you just as much, even when you think you were the only one with longing feelings for more meaningful and quality time with him.

And believe him when he says that he’d much rather have you right here where you are sweetly wrapped up in his arms to hold and kiss all day long if he didn’t have pressing matters that require his attention. But fortunately for you, the Fatui case was nearing its end and you’ll have him all to yourself to do with as you please and he intends to spoil you endlessly for being so incredibly patient with him.

“You are quite the handful. Just couldn’t resist, now could you?” He leans in for another lingering kiss. “I appreciate the thought of you wanting to keep me here with you a bit longer, but you know you could’ve asked… Or did you just want to make trouble?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and takes your sheepish laugh as your guilty admission and affectionately nips at your jawline.

“I’m just doing what I do best—which is keeping you on your toes.” You say with a playful quip, a bit mesmerized when you stare into those stunning blue eyes of his. “Oh, right… before I forget, your coat should be outside hanging from the balcony.”

[crguang]

meet me in the afterglow

The Astral Express landed on your sick planet and removed the cancer of your world. Even though Himeko belongs with stars as bright as she shines while your place is on steady ground, you would suffer the distance if it meant knowing her.

long distance relationship, hurt/comfort, 7k words.

A/N: this really beat my ass. himeko pov practice, i wanted a more emotional piece so she feels a bit ooc to me

The video call connects and your slightly obscured face is viewed at a low angle. You look down at the screen, smiling with your teeth when you see her, and Himeko easily mirrors your happiness. Her cheek rests in the palm of her hand, elbow on the desk’s surface as she gazes at you through the phone.

“Hiii,” you wave at her cheerfully. Himeko hears the sound of a door closing in the background and with a couple of steps into your apartment, the lights flicker open, illuminating your bright expression born from the mere sight of her. The weariness of her eventful day washes away faced with the striking love you hold for her and she can’t help a short giggle from falling past her lips at your greeting. The musical sound lights up the color in your eyes. 

“Hi. Did you just get home?”

You hum in agreement, your keys rattling in your hands. “Today was so long. I’m happy you called.”

You step out of your shoes and walk around your apartment, only looking up from the screen to open your bedroom door. Himeko watches you prop the device on top of your desk and wander around the room while you discard your jacket. A full-length mirror stands across from the desk, showing your figure even when you’re not in the camera frame.

“Me too, we haven’t talked in a while,” Himeko says as you rummage through your drawers. “How have you been?”

“Yeah, we’ve both been really busy,” you find a clean shirt and begin pulling the one you’re wearing over your head. “Oh!” 

You excitedly walk back in front of the phone, shirt hanging around your neck and exposing your torso. You seem too thrilled to care, but Himeko’s gaze unashamedly lowers to your chest until you clap your hands once and speak again. 

“I got the promotion yesterday! I wanted to tell you. I’d say it was worth being worked to the bone this last month.”

“You did?!” She beams. “I knew you would, no one worked as hard as you have for this. I’m so proud of you.”

The delight on your face warms her from head to toe. It’s a wonder how light you make her despite being multiple warp jumps away, you shine through the distance and effortlessly reach the depths of her chest, filling her with hot air until she’s drifting among the stars she knows so well, weightless. You take the work you do seriously, so she does as well. Your victories are hers, and it feels as though she’s gone through them all with you even though she’s not often physically present. 

“Thank you. How are you? Is the Express parked somewhere?”

“I’m doing good. We’re on the way to Herta’s space station right now for a few minor repairs and to stock up on supplies. We should be there for a couple of days.”

You change into a graphic t-shirt and thin pyjama pants, nodding along to her words. You pick the phone back up and bring it closer to your face. A small, fleeting crease appears between your brows as you truly take her in and notice her lack of sleeping clothes.

“Are you still working?”

Himeko hums lightly, a finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the desk. “I need to finish up a couple of things.”

You take her with you to the bathroom, and the brighter light makes the concerned down curve of your mouth apparent. “Don’t sleep too late.”

You miss her fond smile. “I won’t.”

You set her up near the sink so you can start brushing your teeth. It’s nice to be privy to these mundane moments, these glimpses of domesticity, even if Himeko wishes she could witness them in person. Her smile twitches at the corners at the cursory thought, but it zooms past when your eyes light up with an idea and you rush to spit the toothpaste into the sink to talk properly. Your expressiveness is a treasure she deeply cherishes. 

“I forgot to tell you,” you quickly rinse your mouth and wipe it with the back of your hand, “I need your advice on something. I was invited to this formal-ish dinner this week and I’m not sure what to wear.”

“What kind of event is it?”

You pick up the phone and make your way back into the bedroom. “An acquaintance’s birthday dinner. It’ll be a good way to make some connections, though, hence my hesitation.”

Upon Humeko’s request, you adjust the screen on your desk to show her the outfits you visualized for the event. You’re too engrossed in your task to feel shy as you change in front of the camera and the endearment of it all almost overshadows the desire bubbling in Himeko’s lowered gaze. She finds her fingertips aching to trail down your bare biceps and forearms, across the tender skin of your wrists and over the lines of your palms; a homogeneous mix of gentle yearning and lingering melancholy simmers inside her chest. The distance between you suddenly feels as immense as it is because no matter what either of you does right now, she cannot touch you. It’s an imposing part of her, touch. Tangling her fingers in your hair, tracing the faint marks of your hips and thighs, pressing reverent kisses on the apple of your cheeks or behind your ears— they are confessions she slowly realizes that she can’t go without. She will utter warm truths meant solely for you, and even shout them if you wish, but her hands are growing restless. She does everything with her hands, she tinkers and soothes and creates, but she cannot touch you, not as often as she craves to. The feeling isn’t unfamiliar, she simply tells herself that she misses you particularly hard on this day and counts the next ones until you reunite. Tonight… perhaps it’s the month-long absence with only scattered messages exchanged between you or the fact that you’re trying on clothes for yet another event she won’t get to experience with you, but the longing curled around her rib cage tingles uncomfortably. 

You turn to face the camera, showing off one of your outfits, and Himeko’s smile holds a sad tint that you don’t notice straight away. It’s hidden behind genuine affection, but she unknowingly becomes slower to answer and you send her a quizzical look. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to the phone to see her better. 

“Of course.” Himeko blinks, not expecting the question, and answers reflexively. You don’t seem convinced, so she adds, “This outfit is my favorite, you look gorgeous in it. You should put your hair up to go with it.”

You nod slowly, eyes flickering over her features in search of what lurks beneath her easy demeanor. When she doesn’t expand on the matter, you let it go. You start taking off the outfit to change back into your pyjamas. It’s briefly quiet for a moment and in usual circumstances the silence would be comfortable but there’s a persistent weight on Himeko’s chest that she can’t part with, it manages to cloud your sunny smiles and bright eyes enough for a soft sigh to escape her. She’s full of affection as you settle into bed with your phone in your hands and look at her with half your face squished into your pillow, it is exactly what this discouragement is born from and she can’t elude it. She feels a touch of guilt come into the mix for having something so beautiful bred such negative emotions. 

Your thumb hovers over her image on the screen as you speak. “If you’re not too busy… I have this weekend off. We could see each other?”

Himeko quickly runs through the tasks she has to complete this week. If she moves some things around and delegates others well, she should be able to free up at least an entire day to visit you— and she will because just the thought of having you close has her floating a few inches from the ground. 

“I can do Saturday,” she replies. The promise of seeing you soon almost melts away every other thought.

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

Her pout is playful but her question is not. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just miss you.”

Right. Though you don’t often complain, she’s reminded that the distance also weighs on you sometimes. Guilt grows steadily in the dark confines of her guts like a slow-acting cancer. Himeko knows it’s not anyone’s fault that she’s a Nameless fated to travel among the stars while you’re rooted to your world, helping its recovery from a Stellaron disaster. You’re needed where you are, she’s walking the path of the trailblaze, but she can’t help feeling awful at the dismissive way you imply that it’s been some time since you last saw each other in person. She bears the responsibility of your happiness and a sense of failure overcomes her whenever it’s clear that her absence saddens you. It’s easier to blame herself when she’s the one who never stays too long in one place.

“…I miss you too, you know.”

“I know,” you offer her a soft smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. Himeko does her best to return it. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

—

Himeko doesn’t show up on Saturday. You’ve left her multiple messages, called her phone throughout the day, growing increasingly worried every time you reached her voicemail, and waited in your apartment for hours in case she would appear on your doorstep. You stand in front of the kitchen counter where two cold servings of her favorite dish lay and stare at the phone screen, opened on your private texts, like the familiar three dots indicating that she’s online will suddenly pop up. You tell yourself that she likely got caught up in something important and ignore the mocking voice that asks, “Are you not important, too?” You feel the food under your nose is laughing at you, its carefully plated vegetables reminding you of your previous excitement and exacerbating your current disappointment, so you put it in a container and throw it in the fridge. You’re not hungry anymore. It’s not the first time your plans have fallen through but Himeko usually warns you that she can’t make it or calls you with soft apologies on her lips. Because of your schedule, you’ve had to cancel a couple of times too, these things happen and no one’s to blame for them. That thought doesn’t dissolve the dejection burning your throat. 

It’s late in the evening, and you settle on the couch with a book you’ve been meaning to read for weeks now but have been lacking the free time to do so. Two chapters in and the words stop making sense; they dance on the page and merge to form completely different sentences as your mind wanders to what lies beyond your skies— the grandiosity of the Astral Express. You visited it a few times, back when its crew parked on your planet and helped seal the Stellaron that was eating at your world. You still remember its large panoramic windows and the boundless stars beyond them, its long hallways and cozy parlor. Traveling with such an extraordinary companion makes each day worth remembering. That train is her oldest friend, she saved it from erosion and has taken great care of it since, it’s witnessed her growth as a Trailblazer and showed her sights you can’t picture. You understand, a little because Himeko introduced you to the constellations with a hand on your forearm and you smell coffee beans whenever you look up at them from your balcony. 

You mark your page and put down the book. There’s no point in attempting to read more tonight, your head is full of those first days spent learning Himeko; her talent for diplomacy, a strength that could shake the seas and a regard for life just as unwavering. She sometimes says your meeting was meticulously etched into the firmament. You didn’t care much for the truth behind fate before her, she single-handedly turned you into a believer like she was an angel apparition bringing news from above. You’d argue being loved by her is akin to a religious experience, her palms soften your woes and her sincere words touch parts of you that you’ve never known until she spoke. You wish to revere her without constraints. 

You’re so lost in memories that the sudden melody of your ringtone startles you. You reach for the phone on the coffee table. You stare at the contact, hesitant, before erasing all wistfulness from your features and accepting the video call.

Himeko waits for the call to connect with a thundering heart and guilt pooling in her stomach. She dreads this so much, dreads seeing the frown on your lips knowing she’s the cause of it, that she’s put back talking to you for two hours now. She owes you an explanation, of course, and she doesn’t seek your forgiveness for her lack of communication. Her apprehension comes from the disappointment she’s sure you’re feeling, and a familiar sense of failure washes over her at the thought of letting you down again.

Your pouty face appears on the screen and Himeko can’t even force a shaky smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” the words are quick to tumble from her lips like they’ve been uncomfortably sitting in the back of her throat for days. “I should’ve called. The Express needed some last-minute repairs and I’m the only one— I’m sorry.” 

It’s the truth, but her voice is small to her ears because it sounds like she’s making excuses when she has none. She should have taken a few minutes to explain the situation to you instead of leaving you hanging for hours after assuring you that she’d be there this weekend. Getting lost in her work is easy and happens more often than not but she has a foreboding feeling that she truly messed up this time around, something curls around her throat and squeezes, forcing unsteady breaths out of her. 

“It’s… It’s fine, Hime. Is everything okay?”

Your easy understanding is not a facade and it worsens her guilt, she could swim in it and not touch the bottom. She sees the hurt you try to push away for her sake, it’s in the depths of your eyes and the slight curve of your mouth. A recurring thought lingers in her mind; she doesn’t deserve you. 

Himeko nods once, futilely swallowing to loosen her throat. “Everything’s alright, I had to sort out some complications with the suspension components and the HVAC systems. I didn’t forget about you, I just… got caught up in other things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s a bit of a bummer, I made your favorite,” you sigh playfully, hoping to lighten the mood, “I’ll just have to eat it all.”

Your teasing has the opposite effect. Her heart drops knowing you must have been cooking for a couple hours in anticipation of her visit. The scroll of missed opportunities she keeps locked in a corner of her mind grows longer and the longing in her chest expands to her fingertips. 

“You… made my favorite dish? I didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted to surprise you.”

Himeko rubs at her eye with a weary sigh in an attempt to partially conceal her mournful expression before she has the chance to shift it into something less melancholic. A taunting voice, her voice, whispers in her ear that your efforts are wasted on her, that they’ll forever be wasted on her because she can never be away from the Express for too long. You’re at home, staring at the heavens, waiting for her to land and she breathes easier among the stars. You deserve to live your life without your head constantly in the clouds. She’s holding you back, the voice rings inside her head like multiple murmurs on top of each other, she’s stringing you along despite the weight of circumstance dragging you both down. 

“Hey,” you say softly, noticing the far-away look in her eyes and the quiver in her brow. “We can set up another time to meet. When are you free?”

She wishes she had a definite answer. Pom-Pom is currently reworking their timetable to ensure the Astral Express doesn’t run out of fuel and in the meantime, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to see you. Still, she can’t bring herself to tell you the harsh news so she softens the blow to give you some hope.

“I’m not sure… Hopefully next weekend?”

You try hard to keep your face from falling, she can tell, your expressiveness is one of the things she adores most about you. Tonight, it only hurts.

“I’m out of town, it’s my parents’ anniversary, remember?”

“Right.”

The following pause in the conversation is tense with the unsaid, what you both know to be true yet refuse to vocalize; it’s getting harder to make time for each other due to the drastically different, busy lives you’re living. The voice in her head gets louder. It turns into an insistent ruckus fiercely protective of you meant to preserve your wellness even at the cost of her heartbreak. You deserve someone who will take the time to celebrate your accomplishments, who will share the most intimate part of your life with you, and she… Himeko can’t simultaneously be that person and a Nameless. She wants to be there, her body yearns for your proximity to confess all the things she can’t find the words for, but she would have to sacrifice a piece of her identity for that consistency, something she can’t bring herself to do. Her love for you shouldn’t hurt this much. It’s unfair, how her affection is the source of your pain. How much longer can she lie to herself and pretend that having you this way is better than not having you at all? How much longer can she stand the defeat in your eyes?

“...I miss you.” It’s a pitiful sound, helpless and small. She wills herself to be strong against the sad smile you respond with.

“I miss you too. But we’re both where we want to be, right? You get to blaze a trail every day and I make a difference here.” You speak the truth, and yet it doesn’t soothe the tightness of her throat. 

“It doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

“...No. It doesn’t.”

Himeko knows what she has to do. Your smile falters, the following silence weighs on her bones, and she comes to a conclusion long overdue. A quiver runs through her fingers and she has to keep them out of the frame so you can’t see her growing distress. She takes a slow breath, blinks her unshed tears away and forces the words out of her mouth.

“What if… What if we—”

“Don’t say that,’ you interrupt her readily, firmly, furrowed brows worsening her guilt. 

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t take it back.”

She knows that, too. Even so, it was always going to end like this. Himeko feels like she’s falling apart, flayed layer by layer until she sits painstakingly raw in front of you. A screen and millions of miles separate you from her, burning her desires to hold you tight and bask in your comfort to ashes. She is reduced to heartbreak and guilt and yearning, she is an amalgamation of emotions impossible to contain in a human body; her hands shake, her next exhale is wobbly but she can’t bear to look away from you and your sorrow. It’s her fault, it was her pursuit of you that doomed you to where you are now. She was so intrigued by your determination and selflessness, your aching need to create a better life for you and everyone around you despite the corruption of the Stellaron plaguing your planet. Your attention was intoxicating and gave her the same feeling as watching the stars breeze past from one of the Express’ panoramic windows. It hurts now, but she could never regret knowing you. 

“What if it’s the right thing to do?” Himeko asks weakly. Her eyes flicker all over your face as if etching the image of you into her mind. 

“How can this feel right?”

“...Because I love you.”

She loves you and she can’t withstand being the cause of your pain. She can’t string you along knowing she can never give you the companionship you’re worthy of. She can’t keep holding you back from fully enjoying the life you’ve built for yourself. What she can do is spare you months of disappointment. 

You swallow thickly. “And ending things will make it better?”

“I don’t know, but it’s better than… than this.”

She’s not expressing herself properly, her emotions cloud her mind and she finds it difficult to choose the right words to convince you that this is the best decision for both of you. 

“How?”

“Because it’ll hurt less.”

Her eyes shut briefly at your stunned silence and her head tilts away from the screen so you can't see how much this is affecting her.  

“It’ll hurt less than being with me, you mean.” 

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t reply. She wants to say she’s doing this for you, to save you the agony of waiting around for her, but she doesn’t trust her voice to stay steady. Her fingers grip the edge of her desk to keep her grounded. She hears a shuddering breath coming from the other line. 

“Are you breaking up with me, Himeko?” 

Your words announce the point of no return. If she doesn’t do this now, she’ll never find the strength to bring it up again. 

She looks at you, and her reply comes out a choked whisper, “Yes.”

The train’s engine is loud in her ears to fill in the quiet between you. You nod absentmindedly, slowly, as you compute her answer. Your eyes don’t settle on the device in your hand, avoiding her mournful gaze, and the camera shakes a little when you straighten up on the couch. The air is heavy around her, it seems to weigh on her like gravity, and her pulse drums in her head like a haunting tune. Your lips purse to control the quiver in them. 

“...I’m sorry,” she says uselessly.

“I have to… I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you don’t want to look at her a moment more and despite how much that hurts, she can’t find it in herself to blame you. She can’t stand herself either. “Um… Goodnight.”

The call ends before she has a chance to speak. Himeko is left staring at the dark screen, tears blurring her vision at the edges, and without the need to appear fine in front of you, she crumbles. A quiet, choked sound escapes her and she slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle the pitiful sobs that start racking through her body. She spends a lifetime hunched over her desk, forehead resting on its cold surface, crying over the loss of you. Memories of moments shared with you— your sunny smiles and melodious laughter, your sleepy voice over the phone, her adoring palms on your full cheeks— every wishful happy ending that she wanted for you torments her mind. She’s drowning in an ocean of her own making. Regret accompanies her guilt and self-loathing, and she starts telling herself that perhaps she should have fought harder to keep you. She should have sacrificed more, she should have stopped herself from uttering words she can’t erase, she should have… 

A week passes so slowly that it feels like she’s been in this state for a decade. The Astral Express crew have all noticed the changes in Himeko’s mood, her prolonged quiet and red-rimmed eyes, but they’re used to her comfort and don’t know how to ease her mind. They try, clumsily, and she appreciates their efforts even if they amount to nothing. She would turn to you for these sorts of things, now she has no one to tell about how she lost you. Her thoughts circle back to you, she wonders what you’re doing when she wakes up, if you’re mourning her like she is you, if your softness has been replaced by hatred or worse— indifference. She goes through the motions because she has to, as the navigator of the Express she can’t afford a week of feeling sorry for herself when so many things require maintenance regularly. All of it is second nature. Her mind wanders to the tremble of your lips while she goes through her checklist. She blinks tears away as she discusses the conductor’s timetable with them. At night, she stares at her phone and fights the urge to press the call button under your contact name. 

Himeko finds herself in the Express parlor on a night she should have gone to bed early. The universe beyond its big windows no longer offers the same comfort it used to and she sits on one of the large couches, huddled in on herself. A half-empty bottle of wine stands on the floor next to her frame. The warmth in her chest and the fog of mind dull her heartbreak to a tolerable ache, tears are drying on her flushed cheeks and her sniffles are fewer than a half hour earlier. The bright phone screen light hurts her tired eyes but she can’t look away from the last video you sent her of you showing your look before leaving the house for that event you once mentioned to her. In her state, she can’t remember the details. Her stare is on the little twirl you make, the white smile you direct at the camera and the movement of your lips as you ramble about your hopes for the night. The clip plays over and over, it has been in a loop since she started drinking. The train car is quiet, there’s only your excitement livening up the place. She stops hearing most of your words at one point, lost in your features and the way you address her so affectionately. 

The desire to call you simmers inside of her like the alcohol she ingested and makes her fingertips twitch. You’re speaking to her in the video, but it’s not enough. It’s not truly you, just a captured moment of a time she hadn’t broken your heart. She wants to hear the real you, to ease the worry that you hate her now even if she can’t fault you for it. Her muddled mind replays the same thought like an annoying chorus and she sluggishly picks up the bottle on the ground to bring it to her lips. All she feels is a little warmer and a little more numb. She wants you. She wants your arms around her, your murmurs close to her ear. The last time she’s held you dates to around two months ago, maybe, she can’t be sure. Her thoughts are a blur. 

Himeko stares unblinkingly at her screen and doesn’t register that her thumb has navigated to your contact and pressed the call button until the line rings. She puts the phone to her ear with apprehension, heart thundering, and holds her breath. The call goes to voicemail. The defeat that crashes over her almost nullifies the effect of the wine, she sucks her lip into her mouth before calling again. And again, and again, and each time she’s met with the same automated message of you asking to leave a voicemail. Her throat tightens. She feels fresh tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She knows she has no right to expect an answer from you after what she’s done but her distress grows with every call she makes. She just wants to hear you, that loving undertone in your voice when you’re speaking to her like she’s special and cherished. She doesn’t count the number of times she’s pressed the redial button and she doesn’t stop to think off how pathetic she must seem, desperate to hear from someone who wants nothing to do with her. 

The call connects when she least expects it. 

“Himeko?” Your groggy voice answers the phone, leaving her quiet. “Is something wrong?”

Part of her can’t believe you picked up, the other cringes as it realizes that you were asleep. She doesn’t move the phone away from her ear to check the time, she’s frozen in place with her fingers clutching the device. Her mouth opens and closes while she figures out what to say, and the longer she takes the more awkward the silence becomes. Her reply comes out slightly garbled, like she’s biting back her tears, and at first all she manages is your name.

“You… Y-You picked up,” she finally says, swallowing hard to keep her voice from breaking.

“Is something wrong?”

Her eyes squeeze shut. She’s so relieved to hear you again, but the fatigue lacing your words breeds a familiar sense of guilt that washes over her in an instant. She’s woken you up with her insistent calls and your first thought is to worry about her. On one hand, it means you must not despise her as much as her mind has made it seem like. On the other, she’s ripped you from needed sleep and she doesn’t even know what to tell you. She’s wasting your time and if you still felt anything for her prior to now, you surely won’t after that. 

Himeko wills her pulse to slow down enough for her to focus. The wine went to her head thirty minutes ago, and it’s making her hazy. She lets out a shaky exhale, taking a moment to steady her breathing before she answers quietly.

“I miss you.”

“...You called for that?”

She can’t help but flinch at how tired you sound, a hint of annoyance in your tone. She deserves it, she tells herself. It’s the middle of the night and she’s calling you to whine about how she misses you, however true that may be, it’s ridiculous and unfair. Her fingers grip the device tighter, her bottom lips trembles, and she tries to think of a response that won’t irritate you further. 

“No. I mean, yes? I just… I missed you.” She gets progressively quieter as she speaks, eyes shut tight in apprehension. The alcohol slurs her reply slightly and slows her delivery. 

“You don’t get to do this, to call me eight times in the middle of the night after you ended things just to say that you miss me.”

“I know… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have called you…” Regret fills her lungs and tightens her throat. She wraps an arm around her knees and curls in further into herself. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Are you drunk?”

Himeko pauses longer than a sober person would. “Yes…” She says shamefully. “I’m sorry.”

“Drink some water and go to bed.”

It feels like you’re shutting her out, refusing to speak to her when all she wanted was to hear your voice. Her heart sinks and she tightens her hold around her knees. She barely manages a response after a bit of hesitation. 

“Okay. I will… I just— missed you and it was stupid to think…” She can’t string a coherent sentence together, her thoughts are jumbled because of how little she’s been sleeping lately and the alcohol she’s been sipping on for the past hour. She also has no idea what to say. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and betrays her by spilling unfiltered sentiments. “I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s making me miserable.”

She’s only ever felt this bad after talking to you when she broke up with you over the phone. It’s obvious you don’t want to hear her drunken blabbering  and she feels like a fool, holding back tears as she listens to you breathe on the oher end of the line. She just needs something from you, anything that might provide her some comfort even though she knows she doesn’t deserve it. 

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Huh?” It takes a minute to understand you. She bites back a sniffle, almost certain you’re about to end the call. You would have every reason to. In a moment of drunken confusion, Himeko forgets herself and blurts out,  “N-No, of course not, I wouldn’t… I love you.” She’s forgotten she can’t say that anymore, and Himeko is left breathless and horrified at the realization. 

The line is silent. She can’t hear your breaths from how loud her heart beats in her ears. Her body tenses, the grip on her phone turns white-knuckled and she doesn’t dare speak another word until you do. 

“...You’re the one who broke up with me. Now you miss me? You love me? Seriously?”

“I do miss you. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would be better for both of us because you get so sad and it breaks my heart to know that I’m to blame.”

“You don’t get to decide what's good for me. Do you have any idea how I’ve been feeling? It sounds like you did it for you, not for me.”

“No, I…”

“Get some sleep. Goodnight, Himeko.”

Himeko’s body jolts upon hearing your reply, her eyes snap open and she sits up a bit on the couch. There’s more she wants to say to you, but you hung up the phone before she could even call out. She wants to say that it’s not true, she did have your wellness in mind when making that decision. She’s left sitting there, the quiet around her almost deafening. She stares into space as she slowly lowers the phone from her ear. 

After a few more minutes of sitting in her sorrow, Himeko finally heaves a sigh of defeat. She can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. She sets the phone down on the couch, the urge to throw it across the room almost unbearable. She can still hear your words ringing in her ears as she buries her head in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair, and she desperately tries to hold her emotions from spilling out of her in undignified, strangled noises. Her throat feels like it wants to close in on itself while her chest heaves with the effort it takes not to break down in the middle of the parlor. She needs you. She feels so empty without you, and it’s her fault. She thought she was sparing you unnecessary pain and that you would eventually be better off without someone like her, who you can’t see or talk to consistently. She believed that being apart from you would hurt less than having to sit behind a screen and watch you for hours, longing eroding her bones. She was wrong, and the longer Himeko sits there, the more she’s convinced of it. The arguments she’s made up in her mind to justify her decision feel meaningless. She can only feel the weight of your absence as warm tears stream down her cheeks.

The next day, Himeko reminds herself of the path she follows. The spirit of the Trailblaze lies within her, she’s a Nameless and that means she fights to the end no matter the outcome. Three days after that, there’s a knock on your door.

You’re staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom one evening, letting the comforting patter of the rain against your window panes soothe the melancholy of your heart. The breeze is also welcome, you almost doze off against the pillows, eyelids heavy, when a firm fist knocks on your front door. You hear it through the rain, and a frown tugs at your lips. You’re not expecting anyone in this weather and frankly, you’d rather be alone. You consider ignoring it, hoping whoever is vying for your attention gets discouraged and leaves. After a minute, three strong knocks sound from behind the door again. You leave your bed with an irritated sigh. You stride towards the entrance of your apartment, unlock the door and sharply twist the handle to reveal your visitor. 

Himeko’s soaked figure stands on the porch. The rain darkens her long hair and seeps into her thin clothes, strands of red sticks to her forehead and her coat uselessly hangs around her shoulders, drenched like the rest of her. Water streams down her face but her eyes are clear as they look up at you, wide with nerves and determination. Her body trembles with a cold shiver. Her lips part in fleeting surprise like she wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. She’s been rehearsing what to say to you in her head on her way to your place, making sure she would leave having said everything she meant to tell you. However, now that she’s standing in front of you in the flesh after so long, the words melt on her tongue and all Himeko can do is utter a single word.

“Hi.”

“Himeko…?” You blink at the sight of her like she’s an apparition meant to mock you. “What are you…”

“Before you say anything, please, let me start,” she swallows once and stands a little straighter, head high. Confessions that have been sitting on her chest for what feels like an eternity come tumbling out of her lips. “I was a coward. I gave up on us when times were toughest and let my insecurities make up reasons for it to justify the fact that I was scared. I was scared you would realize that I don’t deserve you and that you’re better off with a woman who can actually be present in your life. I still believe you’re worthy of that but it was wrong to end our relationship over the phone with no proper discussion, and it was worse to call you afterwards while I’d been drinking. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to be without you, no matter what form our relationship takes. I feel you under my skin like the muscles that make my heart beat. Knowing you is part of what makes me happy, it’s as much a part of me as the Trailblaze, and without you, I’m incomplete. Whether that means anything to you now, I… I love you. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to take me back, but I needed you to hear it.”

You stare at her in disbelief. She has to blink the water out of her eyes as she speaks but her voice never wavers, her conviction shines through the pouring rain and sends your pulse into a frenzy. Himeko’s bare shoulders shake with the cold and she gazes at you with a heaving chest while her words settle in the air. At this distance, her fingertips ache to reach out for your touch. She stands in front of you, and she suddenly forgets how you feel under her palms; the texture of your hair between her fingers, the curve of your back, the plane of your stomach. She longs to experience it all. 

It feels like a lifetime before your body decides to obey your mind again. Your heart swells, your lungs fill with air, and you do the only sensible thing you can do. Stepping into the downpour, your palms cup her frozen, rosy cheeks and pull her close. Your lips press into hers with a desperation you didn’t know you were capable of, melding with the softness of her mouth in a passionate kiss. You immediately feel her cold arms around your waist and her wet lips reciprocate your affection. Himeko holds you flush against her as she kisses you with equal emotion, gripping your clothes like she can’t bear the thought of being apart a moment longer. Under the heavy rainfall, you’re as drenched as she is in half a minute. Her breath mingles with yours, your senses become attuned only to her loving mouth and soaked chest pressed to your own. You don’t feel the cold. The water turns your kisses slippery, your lips slide together like you’ve been kissing her your entire life, and Himeko makes a breathy sound into your mouth. In the next instant, her hands are wandering up your back and down your sides, pulling you impossibly close to her body until you’re two pieces of a whole that will never be broken. Her touch spills confessions she will repeat over and over.

Your pace slows to gentle kisses on each other’s lips, foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin and a shiver runs through you from the temperature, but your chest warms at the way Himeko’s nose nuzzles against yours. 

“You’ve always been worth the distance, Hime. How could you not be?”

“I’ll find a way to be with you more often. I promise.”

She seals that promise with a revering kiss wet with the heavens’ tears.

[writerslittlelibrary]

How can I help you?

masterlist

summary: since you were small, your mom has always been able to help you feel better. fallen ice cream, scratched knee, your mom always knew the solution. but now? it almost seems that even your mother doesn’t know how to help you now…

pairing: Natasha x depressed daughter reader

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts 

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1459

a/n: I’ve been in quite a weird period the past two weeks. my emotions have been weird and confusing, which is why I haven’t posted anything in a while. I apologise for not posting a lot, and I promise to get at least three small fics out this week :) 

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You can’t really remember when it started. You were always fond of being in your room, yet at some point, being in your room wasn’t really your choice anymore. When you didn’t know who to blame, you simply blamed Covid. Ever since that virus came, your life has become confusing. 

Natasha would usually just blame it on your teenage years. You were going through puberty. Your body changed. Your mind changed. Everything changed. 

However, somewhere, deep down, you knew it wasn’t your age. 

You graduated last year, and because you weren’t sure what you wanted to study, you had decided to take a gap year. Natasha was incredibly supportive. She said she didn’t want you to choose anything because you felt like you had to, so you didn’t choose at all. 

The first few months of your gap year were amazing. You were enjoying all the free time you suddenly had, spending it with either gaming, reading, or watching your shows.

At some point, however, it started to become boring. 

You didn't want to go back to school. However, you also didn’t really want to stay at home anymore either. You didn’t know what you wanted.

Most days, you slept in until noon. Natasha would leave for work early in the mornings, and you would stay behind in bed. You only saw your mother when she came home late from work. You didn’t tell her about you sleeping in so late. Your mother has always followed a healthy lifestyle. Even on the days she was free she would wake up early.

She never shamed you for sleeping in. She never woke you up or told you you needed a better sleep schedule. However, still, for some reason, you felt ashamed. 

You didn’t tell her about your energy disappearing either. You didn't tell her you didn't have the energy to get out of bed anymore. You didn't tell her you lost the energy to eat. You never told her you lost the ability to take care of yourself. At one point, it just happened. 

You knew that if you ever told Natasha she would be worried sick. You knew she would do anything to make you feel better. She had done so since she adopted you.

When you were five you were in the park, and Natasha had gotten you ice cream. However, you were a little too excited, and after jumping once, your ice cream rolled off its cone. You stood there crying, while Natasha simply picked you up and assured you she would fix it. She kissed your tears away and got you another ice cream, in a little paper bowl this time. 

When you were 9, you were playing outside. You fell while your auntie Yelena was chasing you, and you scraped your knee. You clutched your leg and you wailed for your mama, and there she was. She picked you up and once again she kissed your tears away. She took you inside and gently cleaned your wounds. She allowed you to pick out a beautiful band-aid, and she gently placed it on your scratch, before kissing it better.

However, how could she possibly fix this? How could she place a band-aid on a wound she couldn't see?

You felt hopeless, and you felt as though the only way out would be to end it. You weren't very fond of the idea of ending your life. You didn't really want it to end, after all. You just wanted your current life to end. Your life was slow, and for some reason it felt as though you were merely floating around. 

At some point, you stopped existing. You stopped being you. You just became another dot on the map.

You weren't a person anymore. You were a thing existing in this world. You were existing, but you weren't significant. You didn't matter, so what difference would it make if you weren't there anymore at all?

Today was no different. Natasha had gone to work early, leaving you to sleep in. You were still in bed, even though it was already 4 pm. 

However, what you didn't know was that Natasha had been seeing something was wrong for a while. She knew you weren't yourself, and she knew you struggled taking care of yourself. Yet, for your entire life you've always wanted to do things yourself. You never wanted your mom to help you. And so, even now, she decided to give you time to figure things out for yourself. 

However, now she decided that time was up. You weren't getting any better, and Natasha was only growing more worried with the day. 

She had gone to work that morning, but at her job she told her boss that she was taking a few weeks off. Her daughter needed her, had been her truthful excuse, and her boss agreed. She went home around 4.30 pm, and when she entered the house she found out you were still in bed.

She walked towards your room and softly knocked on your door.

“Sweetheart? Are you there?” Natasha spoke as she opened the door, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness in your room. 

“Are you alright, honey?” Natasha asked as she walked into your room, closing the door behind her and sitting beside you on the bed. You barely acknowledged her presence, humming softly while you pulled your blankets up a bit, trying to shield your face from the light coming from the hallways.

Natasha let her hand gently stroke your hair, feeling the oily and knotted hair that rested on top of your head. 

“Are you okay?” Natasha then asked, and before you even had time to respond, you started crying.

Natasha didn't hesitate to pull you into a sitting position, pulling your body so it could lean upon hers. She allowed you to sob into her shoulder while she gently stroked you back, letting you know you were safe.

“I don't know why I feel this,” you sobbed out.

“It's alright, sweetheart, you don't have to know,” Natasha explained softly as she gave you a kiss on your hair. She held your head tightly to her chest, allowing her lips to rest upon your head.

“I don’t feel good, mama. I don't wanna be like this,” you sobbed out, and it didn't take long before Natasha realised what you truly meant by that. 

However, being the understanding mom she is, she didn't comment on it. She didn't suddenly sprung you with motivational quotes, telling you you have so much left to live for. She simply held you, sushing you as you cried and sniffled in her shoulder. 

“Can I help you?” Natasha softly asked after a few minutes, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you gave a small nod and let out another sob, Natasha lifted your body out of your bed, carrying you towards the bathroom and putting you down on the toilet cover. 

She turned the water on, allowing the bathtub to fill with hot water as steam filled the room. 

“I’m gonna grab some clean clothes alright? I'll be right back,” Natasha stated as she went back into your room, grabbing some clean clothes before returning to the bathroom. She set the clothes on the rack, helping you off the toilet seat and out of your clothes.

After you were settled in the bath, Natasha pulled out some shampoo, massaging it into your head before rinsing it out, repeating the process with the conditioner.

After your hair was clean, Natasha grabbed a comb, gently working on the knots and matted parts of your hair. After she finished, she washed your hair again, enjoying the feeling of the now silky soft hair in between her fingers. 

After finishing your hair, she helped you wash the rest of your body, before helping you out of the bathtub and drying you off. 

Natasha didn't allow you to walk yourself, instead lifting you up into her arms and carrying you down the stairs. Luckily she was crazy strong, so despite your age, she could still easily carry you as if you were merely a small child. 

After you were settled on the couch, Natasha went into the kitchen, preparing you a nice and healthy meal.

For the rest of the day, you simply sat on the couch, leaning on your mama while she gently stroked your back. It might have seemed lazy to the normal person, but for you, it was change. You weren't alone, for starters. There was daylight in the living room, and there was social interaction, even if little was being said. 

In the end, you realised, that despite the wound not being visible, your mama would always be able to stick a band-aid on it. 

Fic tags: @prentissluvrz @natsbiggestfan1

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @n0txn3vee @lorsstar1st

[mango-bango-bby]

Platonic dabi gives me something I never had 😭🙏 How do you think he would be with baby reader like right after he took them?

♡ Bonding ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, big brother!Dabi, sibling!reader, baby!reader, mentions of kidnapping, fire, Dabi calls you a brat, NOT PROOFREAD

Summary: Your big brother, Dabi, has absolutely no idea how to calm your crying (Platonic!Yan!Dabi x GN!Baby!reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Dabi had no idea what to do with you. He had no idea how to care for you. He knew he shouldn’t have taken you, he had no clue how to care for a baby, nor could he. He was completely broke and just started out his new life as a villain! He couldn’t care for you! But he also couldn’t leave you with Enji, he could let you be a back up Shoto.

“What do you want?” Dabi asked with a frustrated groan. Yet your cries still echoed through the abandoned apartment you two had been living in.

He had tried everything he could think of to calm you down. Yet you still cried, standing at the edge of the old crib that he found at a junkyard. Your little hands holding onto the top on the crib as you cried and pouted at him.

He had tried feeding you, changing you, trying to get you to sleep. Everything and anything to get you to calm down you’re crying. He even tried rattling toys in front of you and even changing you into a different onesie in hopes that it was what you wanted. But nothing worked.

Dabi sighed, sitting on the ground in front of your crib with his hands on his head. He looks up at you for a moment, you’re still crying, tears running down your chubby cheeks and snot on your face. “You’re a brat, you know that?” He mumbles at you, knowing you can’t understand him.

He sighs, using his quirk to shot a flame at a few nearby candles. The apartment was abandoned so the only sources of light were a few candles. Your crying stop for a moment when he shots the flames to light the candles, the candles now light with small blue flames.

You use the crib for support, as you shuffle your way over to look at the candles. Your large eyes looking over as your crying has slightly calmed. You almost seem entranced by the small flames.

Dabi immediately looked over at you, seeing how you reacted to his quirk. Your crying had calmed, your cries now only small sniffles and hiccups. “You like that?” Dabi asked, his voice a bit softer than before. He lifts his hand, igniting a small flame at his finger tips. You stare at the flame, your large eyes wide as you coo curiously.

Dabi twirls his finger, making the small flame move in small circles. This causes you to coo happily, giggling lightly as you watch. You lean over the crib, reaching out your chubby arm. You reach for the flame, making grabby hands at it to signal that you wanted it.

“Ah, ah. You don’t touch. You don’t wanna end up lookin’ like your big brother, do you?” Dabi snickers, using his other hand to gently push you back, causing you to fall in the crib so you now sit on the mattress.

Yes, you were a brat. And you cried and cried, no matter what he did. But he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of you while taking care of you. He could raise you to be different than his siblings.

You were the only person he loved in that idiotic family.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: RAHHHHH I’m back to writing!! I’ve been having such trouble getting inspiration lately. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much but I’m doing it when I feel like I can 🫶🫶 And I totally agree with you, platonic yans are 💗💗)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

[pinkhelados]

hey, kitty - miguel ohara x reader!

summary: you take in a stray hybrid. Overtime, the pull of your love draws in the reluctant hybrid to your arms.

contains: hybrid au, cat!hybrid!miguel x fem!reader, very fluffy, nsfw (more towards the end.) mentions of titty sucking, oral sex (fem receiving)

A dark, chocolate colored tail flicked from behind a tree. You stopped jogging and made your way to peek behind the thick spruce where you found a hybrid lounging under the shade. The cat bolted up onto his feet and barred his fangs, he swatted your face with his talons and but luckily, you managed to dodge. “Don’t worry, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” You smiled and reached out to try and pet him which only got you another close call with those deadly fingerpads of his. “Leave,” the hybrid scowled.

Something drew you to this specific kitty, perhaps the attitude or how handsome his face was. Either way, you wanted to bring him with you. “Come on, you’re hungry. I can feed you and everything!”

You weren’t sure why you were so inclined on the idea of keeping this stray, but something in your gut urged you to keep pushing, and you did, for thirty minutes.

“Ave Maria- Fine! I’ll come with you if you can just be quiet,” He grunted, fluffy ears turned back and clearly sick of all the nagging.

Eyes lighting up, your lips curled up into a big grin. You grabbed his hand to pull him into a hug which got your the talons.

“Oye!”

“Sorry.”

Miguel was a picky eater, picky sleeper, picky everything. For a stray, he sure knew his preferences.

The first few months of his stay, he’d sleep in his own space away from you with his tail curled up around his massive thigh by the window. When he’d doze off, he’d easily wake at the sound of footsteps or the jingle of your keys when you’d come back from errands. Miguel would bolt upwards, eyes wide and alert before realizing it was just you and go back to his nap. He was weary of you but you respected it. Miguel liked his space, but that didn’t mean he’d be isolated forever.

You were up late watching a film one night when the door to your bedroom creaked open. The six-foot-nine hybrid stared at you with his intense, unblinking eyes. The film was paused. He’d typically be asleep by now but here he was standing in front of your television not saying a word.

“What’s up?” You asked tentatively. Miguel’s tail swished nervously behind, his jaw clenching tighter with every passing moment. “Your bed’s more comfortable then mine…”

Oh!

Heart speeding, you eagerly lifted the sheets for him to join you. The matress shifted downwards with the weight of Miguel as he crawled into bed with you. The hybrid’s burly arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest and resting his on your head. Miguel’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “Mm,” He grunted.

Miguel’s scent filled your nostrils and you nuzzled your cheek against his neck. He smelled earthy. Like pine on a rainy day. His large hand traced the curves of your body and after a while, he turned down to gaze into your eyes. You saw it, the expresión of yearning in his maroon hues. Miguel had been wanting this just as much as you had. You could see your face reflecting on his dilated pupils and you shared that same look of affection.

A deep purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you reached up to scratch the backside of his fluffy ears which he gladly welcomed. His plush lips pursed outwards. “Something wrong?” You whispered over the rich purring coming from his throat. “No,” he hummed, hugging you closer to wrap his brown, fluffy tail around your waist.

“I just haven’t made a sound like this in a long time.”

Sleeping in the same bed became a nightly ritual for you and your hybrid. Curled up under blankets with his beefy arms tight around your waist. After a year, Miguel got comfortable and he was comfortable quick which you loved. He was fond of your breasts, touching them, kneading them, suckling on them after a particularly stressful day. When he wasn’t lounging by himself, he’d be in the kitchen. He’d stand behind you peppering kisses to your neck while you fixed up breakfast in the wee hours of the morning. You were his person and he’d make it known. Scenting, biting, you name it. Miguel had marked you with no intention of sharing his precious human. Miguel wasn’t overly jealous, he knew that you’d come home smelling of other hybrids, something to be expected when living in such a populated city. Certain instances would make him snap, though.

“Miguel!” You squirmed under every lap of his rough tongue. His ears perked up at tour noises, but he was to distracted by the taste of your cunt to care. Juices ran down his chin, claws digging into the fat of your thighs. It was pornographic. The slurping and sucking on your clit had your hips bucking into his skilled tongue, pussy sqeezing around his girthy fingers. “That’s it,” he groaned. “No one makes you feel like this, just me.” Miguel kissed your clit before enveloping it once more, sucking on it until you were coming for the second time. “Such a pretty pussy, nena. You’re soaked,” He smirked a little, clearly proud of how undone you’d become. He dove right back into your glistening folds, hooked nose bumping against your perky clit to coax out another orgasm.

“Youre my human. All mine.”

a/n: i love cat boys y’all

[azullumi]

hi azul!!

i loved ur latest fic of fatui!scara and his fam, could u do like a fic one? like a whole imagine tyyy

“kisses to heal loneliness” ; scaramouche/wanderer

summary — you spend most of your days in pure loneliness due to your husband always being away for work and so when he comes home late at night…

pairings — scaramouche/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff; established relationship, domestic life, lots of goddamn kisses being mentioned and done, scaramouche is not mean here (he’s just a guy hopelessly inlove, he still commit crimes though)

words — 1243

notes — the child in the previous fic doesn’t exist yet hageuwhshs but the reader and scara are married here so yeah ^^ i hope you like this! i haven’t written requests for a while

there was the sound of the door opening and light footsteps treading in the darkness of your home echoing throughout the place, the only thing heard in the silence—it felt like time had completely stopped with how quiet and still the surroundings were.

the man who had just entered caught a glimpse of a person—you—sleeping on one of the couches peacefully, without any care of the world as if someone didn’t just invaded their own home—thankfully, however, the man wasn’t a stranger and was rather your husband who had just came home after working for seemingly the whole day and he was greeted by the sight of you sleeping in the living room instead of your own bedroom.

he couldn’t help but sigh upon thinking that you probably waited for him to come home even if he had specifically told you not to. did you push yourself again to stay awake so you could wait for him? how many times have he told you already not to stay up late just so you could greet him once he enters the door? he lost count anymore and might have given up at this point knowing how stubborn you can get. he rolls his eyes at the thought as he approaches your sleeping figure, quietly and carefully, afraid that he’ll wake you up.

he reached his arms out to your face and a warm and gentle feeling of something that seemed like a hand, softly caressing your skin, glossing and tracing your cheek was felt. the feeling itself was ticklish, eventually pulling you to consciousness and stirring you awake only to be greeted by a blurry sight of a person sitting in front of you, their figure blocking the light passing through the window and casting a shadow on you.

“scara…?” you call out in a whisper as you sit up, rubbing your eyes to adjust your sight to your surroundings. scaramouche’s gaze followed you as you rose and he always never seem to notice how his eyes always softens when he looks at you and how fondness laces itself in the depths of his orbs, or maybe he does, perhaps he realizes it from the gentleness of his touch and how he refrains himself from spilling words that could hurt you.

once you’ve known that it was indeed him, your lips couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “how long have you been here?”

“i arrived just now. what were you doing, sleeping on the couch as if we don’t have a bedroom?” he sits down besides you as he asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer already but scaramouche misses you and your voice.

“i was waiting for you,” you answered, a hand reaching out to cup his cheek and gently caress your thumb against his skin, “you were gone for the whole day, you know?”

“i thought you’ve already gotten used to me being gone—“

“i could never.” getting used to his absence was an idea that horrified you—especially with his line of work, always leaving to take on dangerous tasks that can put his life at risk—, you could never get yourself more acquainted with the vast nothingness of the nonexistence of his being. it scares you to think that one day, you’ll get accustomed to the coldness of his absence, that you’ll be more familiar with the silence more than his presence.

“i could never get used to being alone, much less you being gone.”

silence reigned between the two of you as he could only gaze at you (words will not come out of his mouth even if he’ll try to speak) affection being conveyed through his eyes, and there was only one thought running inside his head, tainting and ruling over his mind—to kiss you. whether the situation was asking him or not, he just couldn’t help it, you just look so adorable and lovely right now that he couldn’t help but think of crashing his lips against yours and molding it against each other like two missing puzzle pieces; to taste forgiveness and stars in your mouth.

and so he did.

with his hand held out to touch your face, to gently trace your features with the tip of his finger, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his palm rested against your cheek and you leaned against his touch, relaxing at the warmth of his presence. breaths slowly syncing and matching the pace of the other, he closed in the gap between you two, the distance between you being covered until it was no more as he captures your lips into a kiss—slow but it is one that is filled with affection, adoration, and all of his feelings that he cannot (for the life of archons) never tell you.

your fingers reach up to tangle itself in his hair, lacing itself in his indigo locks, as the kiss continues and deepens into a passionate one—everything slows and faded as if there was only the two of you—lips chasing each other, desperate to feel and taste one another, and you could swear that you heard a low moan from him when you bit his bottom lip.

but of course, things always come to an end and so, lips parting from each other, as you need to chase your breaths. he rests his forehead against you, your eyes remains on him with the same affectionate and loving gaze you had since earlier; sometimes, he thinks if you realize that the hand you hold is tainted with blood and sins.

you chuckle, “have i told you that i love you?”

“even if you don’t tell me, i’ll know anyways.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing his answer, it was a response that you expected from him. honestly, he’s only been gone for a day but it feels like it has been a long time since he disappeared. was it just the weather? the vast feeling of loneliness of eating alone nearly every single day? the silence that you have to listen to in every instance that he’s gone? archons, oftentimes the house can just be too big and cold when you’re just on your own.

the two of you remained there, still as time and silence, only relishing in this rare moment that you get to spend with him in vulnerable times.

“i love you.”

he says and although his voice sounds the same as usual, seemingly monotonous, but the hints of adoration and warmth trailing his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, his words managing to make its way to you and making your heart flutter. you planted a quick kiss on his lips, the feeling itself lingering in his mouth, the sweet aftertaste of you persisting in his lips—

“i love you too, kuni.”

BONUS

“should we have a child then so you would feel less lonely?”

once he had offered you that idea, you stilled. normally, you would have hit him for giving such an idea but it actually makes sense, it sounds tempting, even. in some sense, it could work and perhaps, it could lessen the loneliness that you feel whenever he’s not around.

“so what do you say?” he asks before then pressing his lips against your temple, kisses trailing down the sides of your face and tracing your jaw, interrupting your thought process and making you unable to think properly. “hm?”

“scara, wait—let me think about it.”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[zappedbyzabka]

Daniel isn’t fond of the way it sounds as if the whole building were buzzing at night when he needed to rest.

It’d been weeks since he’d had a good night’s rest, something that only exasperated his issues more, but it didn’t keep his mother up even a bit. What a great envy.

The bonsai shop was a dead duck. The entire idea had done nothing but bleed away his money, and bring constant sighs from his mom and Ali.

The airy sound of it plays in his head and makes him grit his teeth.

They can never just give him some peace, always inadvertently reminding him of how naive his decision to start a shop was and trying to solve his problems for him like he were a child.

Is it not apparent that he’s already realized his mistake and suffers for it?

He finds himself avoiding them more than anyone, only adding guilt to the sludge of negative emotions feasting away at all his motivation and energy. He knows they mean well, that they are right and only want to help him, haven’t done anything wrong, but at times he feels close to stuffing all his belongings in his car and changing his name, driving somewhere far away where it snows in the winter.

Leaving everything and restarting.

He grunts, close to slapping himself for daring to imagine such a thing.

Then the bed dips, and he evens out his breathing quickly, hoping to avoid another argument with Ali. She was probably with her “friend”.

He hadn’t even heard the door open.

She rests her head on his shoulder, adorning a new perfume he found especially pleasant. Something subtle and benzoin with an undertone akin to one of the chewable vitamins his mother used to make him take, but he can’t recall the exact one.

She pokes his ribs like an ‘I know you’re awake’, smiling against his collarbone.

Things used to be so good between them.

He turns his head to feel her forehead on his chin, petting the top of her head to savor the feel of her silky hair against his palm.

He gives up the act, hungry to feel her affection comfort his woes. “Hey, doll. Long day? I missed ya’.”

She nods faintly, kissing feathery up his neck. He chuckles, opening his eyes only to stare into the pitch-black of his room, but he doesn’t mind it: it’s peaceful.

“You seem happy to see me,” he comments, fighting the urge to tack on “that’s rare lately.”

He doesn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. Not when he’s the reason things have been tense.

He touches the corner of her lips to see if she’s still smiling for him, and the words disappear from his mind anyway at the sensation of Ali’s hot mouth enveloping his fingers swiftly like a fish catching bait and her tongue swirling around the tan digits without a halt.

His breath hiccups, excitement swarming up his body. It’s been a long time since she’s wanted to do anything with him, and she hardly ever was this enthusiastic when she did.

But he won’t complain, too wary of making a comment that would break whatever laid-back spell she seems to be under.

He glides his other hand over the curve of her ass, bunching her dress (a strange fabric, he notes) and attempting to pull it up, praying to feel the slick warmth between her legs, but she pushes his touch away.

He doesn’t try it again.

She shudders against him as if he were pleasuring her though, sucking on his fingers generously for a few more moments before slipping them out with a dirty ‘pop!’.

She scoots away, and his stomach drops a little. He sits up and reaches out, searching for her like a lost dog.

“Ali? Ali? You there?”

Blinking rapidly trying to adjust his eyes in the dark, he wonders if he had imagined the whole thing in his sleep-deprived state.

Then a soft mouth smashes against his, and he eagerly leans in like her lips are coated in honey. Her passion making him dizzy.

She slaps away his itching hands trying to pull her in by her wrists, yet allows him to slide his tongue against hers in a way that makes desperation overcome him. Yearning to grope her soft breasts and hear her moan sweetly in his ear. To hear she loves it—loves him.

Wetness smears against his chin, too cool to be spit.

He turns his head to stop her. “Wait, hey. Are you crying?”

He gets nothing but silence in return. Why must she toy with him like this? “Ali, what is?—”

He catches a whiff of the fluid on his hand, and the clear image of a small bottle of kid’s iron vitamins appears in his mind. “Ali, are you... bleeding ?”

No response.

He fumbles for the lamp, yanking down the chain so hard the entire thing almost falls to the floor and shatters.

He’s been so rough with everything lately.

Light bathes the small room, showing no girl with injuries on her. Showing no one at all.

He inspects his hand to make sure the blood is real.

And it is.

Bright and sticking, trailing from his bed to the open door showing the dark abyss of the unlit apartment.

His heart sinks in his chest like an anchor. He sits there feeling frozen for what feels like an hour before standing slowly and making his way out, feeling up the hallway wall until he finds a switch.

He peeks into his mother’s room, relieved to find her sound asleep, snoring quietly with the moon pouring in from the window.

Adrenaline builds as he follows the blood trail to the box-like kitchen, finding an envelope on the counter.

He glances at the house phone but decides to make no move towards it.

Picking up the envelope cautiously, he lifts the unlicked cover and spreads it open to see inside.

It’s a letter.

He plucks the paper out and sets it on the laminate, shivering at the sight of what was hidden underneath.

A blood-soaked hair tie and a tooth.

He drops it back onto the counter and surveys his surroundings for a moment before turning his attention to the letter.

In pungent red, It reads:

Break up with Ali or she’s next in line. By next year, you will be mine.

PS: I’m calling tomorrow at 7 PM, it better be you who answers.

Red and pink doodled hearts surround the words, making Daniel picture someone kicking their feet cutesily while writing it after severely injuring, or far more horrific, murdering someone for him.

Just to be with a failing shop owner who lives with his mother?

An unexpected thrill curls in his chest, and he doesn’t feel so exhausted anymore. Not even fearful.

He should feel sick.

He should call the cops.

He dials Ali and smiles at the floor.

[starsstuddedsky]

Doyoung as your brother's best friend...

(wc: 1.7k, non idol au, mentions of food, alcohol, reader has a mother/family, i really dont know what this is)

who you were always fond of because he was way nicer to you than your brother ever was growing up (a pretty low bar, but a win is a win)

he graduates before you and you see him only a couple times a year when your brother would hang out with him, which fizzles out and suddenly you realize you haven’t seen him in five years 

you finish college and get a great job offer except it’s a city five hundred miles away from home and you don’t know anyone, until your mother mentions Doyoung moved there a year or so ago and says something like you should reach out

to which you think no thank you but you politely say you’ll see what he’s up to 

and you don’t give it a second thought, you meet a few friendly people at work and try to call your old friends as much as you can but loneliness has a way of seeping into the empty corners of your room and the quietness of 9:56pm on a Tuesday 

so you figure a hinge date or two isn’t the worst idea

hey, guess what’s the worst idea? 

the first man you decide to go on a date with spends the first hour bragging about his job and how he’ll be able to retire by the time he’s 35 and simply does not stop talking about himself

you’re sure you’ve given help me eyes to every person that’s walked past but no one takes pity on you, until you’re looking into a familiar pair of eyes 

Doyoung doesn’t hesitate to stride up to you, saying “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, why haven’t you been looking at your phone?” and “The doctor’s say he won’t make it much longer!” 

it isn’t difficult to follow him out of the café and listen to him throw out fake medical terms until you’re around the corner 

he slows after that and you realize he’s gotten even taller and let his hair grow out a little

before you can tease him about the hair, he asks if you’re busy and when you say no, he drags you to the coin laundry to watch his clothes spin around 

sitting on the plastic chairs and sipping paper cups from the water dispenser, you trade stories, amazed at the Doyoung from your memory and the Doyoung that sits in front of you

he’s changed so much (he spends his free time painting and going to art museums) and not at all (still ducks his head when he’s feeling shy and smiles with his eyes just as much as his lips) 

you try to pretend like you aren’t stealing looks at him. he isn’t nearly as successful.

you walk to his apartment, only a couple blocks away and it’s gotten so late that he insists you spend the night, saying that your mom would kill him if he let you walk alone this late and to just take the couch 

to which you protest, because, honestly, what would his mother say not offering the bed? and he just rolls his eyes and gives you his best pillow 

except he must have really never slept on the couch because it’s actually so uncomfortable that you can’t sleep. when Doyoung gets up for a middle-of-the-night bathroom break, he finds you watching a crime show

despite making fun of you for it, he sits beside you and it’s actually way more comfortable when you’re using his shoulder as a pillow and then it’s suddenly morning and you wake up fully in his arms, meeting his smug smile

he does not waste time making fun of you, saying “what was that about the couch being uncomfortable?” and “are you sure you didn’t just want to sleep with me?” and pretending he wasn’t just as flustered

even though it’s daylight, he still walks you home and you find you don’t mind it at all. in front of your door, neither of you can figure out how to say you want to keep seeing each other, especially since you aren’t sure if it’s in a flirty context or not and what any of that would entail

finally you tell him your apartment has laundry, if he doesn’t want to pay for it and he says somehow he thinks you’re going to cost way more than a laundromat but he’s smiling 

Doyoung slowly becomes a fixture in your life and even when you truly befriend your coworkers and become particularly close with one of the baristas in the coffee shop next to your apartment, he’s always the first person you think of–when you get a commendation at work, when you have another fight with That One Coworker, when you stub your toe. and he tells you about his constant fight with the owner of a dog on his floor that thinks it’s okay to let their dog pee on Doyoung’s doormat, and you hear all about his friends before you finally meet them 

there are countless “almost” moments–telling him about this guy at work who flirts with you more blatantly than Doyoung himself and when you pause after saying you told him you have someone, he doesn’t say anything so you just say it was a lie to get the guy off your back; holding your hand on your birthday (after cooking a five course meal for you) but letting go before you even reach your apartment; staying over at his apartment again and refusing to sleep on the bed but he builds a wall of pillows between you “so you don’t feel uncomfortable”; waiting for the bus after drinking with his friends under a flickering streetlight where you think for sure he’s going to kiss you but he ducks away before you can let the fantasy dip into reality 

you know you have to talk to him about it directly (especially since all of your friends say that he’s as in love with you as you are with him) but every time you try to do it you freeze up and you can’t get the words out 

but when the holidays come around, you go to visit family with him and realize Just How Much you’ve changed around him

you’ve completely forgotten how to be normal around him, how to look at him without hearts in your eyes, but you’ll die if your family asks you what’s going on and you don’t have an answer, so you steel yourself up for a Doyoung-less Christmas 

it goes really well until Day 2 when your mother announces Doyoung and his family will be coming over for dinner. to make matters worse, your brother finally shows up and it becomes very clear 1) he and Doyoung still talk all the time and 2) Doyoung has not mentioned how close he’s become with you 

you try your very best to pull stories out of everyone else, since you can’t seem to mention anything about your life that doesn't include Doyoung, which apparently is true for him, you discover as he tries his best to tell the story about the time he wound up halfway across the city with a dead phone and no way to get back without telling them you were right there with him (ultimately failing since you were the one who ran into a friend who let you into their apartment to charge your phones) 

after dinner your brother and Doyoung disappear and maybe you’re being paranoid but you swear everyone is looking at you

so you go ahead and vanish into your childhood room, thinking about anything except your brother’s best friend who’s become your… (damn you really thought you’d have a word for him that time) 

an hour or so later, your brother knocks at the door and asks to come in (already scary since he’s always just busts in and purposefully leaves the door wide open). he sits down and says he doesn’t care what happens between you and Doyoung but not to hide anything on his account and you’re like okay well there’s nothing to hide and he’s like if my dumbass can pick up on the vibes, there’s something to hide so go figure it out and you’re like wait what did Doyoung say and he rolls his eyes and mutters something like “I am not doing this” and tells you Doyoung is waiting for you outside 

you did not sprint down the steps, no matter what anyone says. it was a controlled pace, one foot per step, hand gripping the railing to keep you upright 

Doyoung waits for you like your brother said, sitting on the porch swing wearing his winter jacket with his hands stuffed into the pockets, and he perks up when you come out the door 

you sit beside him, trying not to lean into him and letting the cold air warm from the tension between you. there’s a couple heartbeats of silence, your breath hanging in the air in front of you before you manage to get the words out. 

“i like you” 

silly words, immature words, not the right words for how you feel, but you can’t quite figure out what those might be. 

“it’s like mixing paint,” he says and you think maybe there really aren’t any right words, but he keeps going. “at first you think ‘wow i used way too much blue and this will never look right’ but you keep mixing it together and even though it isn’t the color you wanted it to be, you’ve found a whole new color and it changes the painting completely but it makes it so much better.” he pauses before admitting, “maybe it isn’t the perfect analogy. my point is, i wasn’t expecting you at all, but you make my life so much better.” and another couple seconds for him to remember he’s got something else to say. “oh, and i like you, too. if it wasn’t obvious."

it’s stupidly like a movie when the snow starts to fall, but you’ve been waiting far too long to kiss him, so you won’t let the feeling that this is a bad hallmark movie stop you

what does stop you is hearing half your family cheering through the window when you scoot closer to him 

(your first kiss happens a couple days later on a secluded hike in the woods) 

(a few years later at the wedding, one of your cousins pulls up footage that can only be described as stalker-like) 

and you never sleep on his crappy couch again (though you do stay over, even when it isn’t late), and he keeps doing laundry in your apartment until his lease is finally up and he moves into a bigger apartment that just so happens to have enough space for you

(oh, and it has in-unit laundry too) 

a/n: i swear i have been writing i just haven't been finishing but i got 2/3 of sending this to bestie before i realized this is a writing format so yeah. idk this is very much my delusional stream of consciousness but tell me im wrong. go ahead. tell me.

[theking-mustdie]

Cramped

pairing: background Scott McCall x Isaac Lahey

warnings: claustrophobia, panic attacks, mentions of feeling nauseous, PTSD, child abuse, mentioned scratching at own skin

a/n: i am on a mission to bring back claustrophobic isaac. this is my first work ever im open to constructive criticism!! ooc? maybe? i have no idea.

word count: 2,040

Isaac has coasted through his time in the pack without his claustrophobia, or its symptoms, being discussed at all. To be fair, there was hardly a lull in monsters-of-the-week to ever walk up to someone like Scott or Stiles and randomly throw out: ‘Hey! Did you know that my father locking me in a freezer in our basement did irreversible and unspeakable damage to my mental and physical health?’ So he wouldn’t say he minded the lack of communication. He preferred no one pry into his weaknesses or his business that they had no interest in knowing about.

However, there were some times where his panic was simply unavoidable.

From experience, Isaac consciously made sure to avoid his claustrophobia getting the best of him, usually stood next to exits or windows in any room he’s in. He’s not too fond of the unknown.

So when Scott suggested taking a day-trip somewhere after the insane, durach-filled month they had, Isaac reveled in the idea of a break and eagerly agreed.

“Where do you want to go?” Scott asked Isaac one afternoon, spread out on the couch.

“I haven’t exactly ventured outside of Beacon Hills so I wouldn’t even begin to know where to go,” Isaac replied from the other couch, half-asleep. With no threat looming overhead, Isaac hadn’t been as distracted, meaning that his nightmares had come back full force. He tried to keep himself awake to avoid the flashbacks he’d rather forget, but it was only delaying the inevitable. He’d rather not have indulged anyone else with his issues because it’s his burden to bear, and he’s almost positive that Scott couldn’t care less about his personal problems when he had a whole town to protect.

“We could always borrow Roscoe and drive down to the beach. I could use some time outside,” Scott replied after a beat, thinking.

“How far away is the beach?” Isaac asked, unfamiliar with any nearby beaches.

“Um probably about an hour and a half?” Scott guessed.

“That’s fine with me, but don’t expect me to go splashing around in the water like a dog.” Isaac crossed his arms and glanced over to Scott.

Scott laughed, rolled his eyes, and said “we’ll leave tomorrow morning” definitively.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

That night Isaac was able to catch thirty minutes of sleep until he was plagued with images of bleeding nails, metal chains, and impeding darkness before he startled awake. He decided it was a lost cause and tiptoed downstairs to grab himself a glass of water as he tried not to disturb Scott or Melissa. He returned to the McCall guest bedroom and settled on chipping away at his mountain of late work for school.

The night prior Isaac and Scott agreed on leaving at nine o’clock in the morning, so as the clock struck eight Isaac packed up his school work, hopped in the shower, and threw on some athletic shorts that could pass as swim trunks. As he left his room to head to the kitchen and find breakfast, Scott stepped out into the hallway and gave Isaac a small smile in greeting.

If Isaac’s gaze lingered on Scott’s bare chest, no one was there to witness it.

They both ate breakfast while talking about their plans for the day. Scott wanted float in the ocean and relax while Isaac wanted nothing more than to lay on the sand and read whatever crappy books the McCall’s had tucked away in their guest bedroom bookshelf. He needed a good distraction.

As they gathered the needed towels, sunscreen, and other beach items, Isaac began packing Stiles’ jeep that he had left outside Scott’s house the night before. But not without an intimidating threat of death if anything were to happen to it.

After a heated argument about who should get the aux, Scott was playing his music and they were off.

Isaac loved scenic car rides. He loved looking at the trees, houses, people, and anything that caught his eye. He leaned his head against the window and silently tried to fight sleep but eventually dozed off with the roaring of the engine and the rocking of the car acting as a lullaby.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Isaac slowly regained consciousness, unaware of his surroundings nor how long he had been out for. The first thing he had registered when he woke up was the car right in front of them. He tried to put the confusing, weird feeling that washed over him aside and turned to ask Scott how long he had been asleep.

"About half an hour. We were driving pretty smoothly until we hit the morning rush." he answered. He spared a glance at Isaac and saw the confused look adorning his face. "What's wrong, dude?"

Isaac whipped his head up to look at Scott and offered him a tight smile. "Nothing, just a little tired. I'm fine."

Isaac knew Scott could tell he was lying, but dropped in favor of looking at the road.

As he got a hold of his bearings, Isaac realized that they were sitting in the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic. He tried to discreetly glance behind the Jeep, to the left, to the right, and ahead without alerting Scott, but a feeling of panic rose in his chest. There was maybe five feet of space between Stiles' car and others at all times.

Isaac began to understand what was wrong with him.

His heart started beating faster and his breathing started to quicken. He attempted to focus on anything else, the radio, the honking in the distance, even Scott, but nothing was working. His anxiety began to rise, and with it, the desperation to get the hell out of the car and off the highway.

Scott let out a frustrated groan, unaware of what was happening in the seat next to him. "We're stuck in here. The people ahead of us won't move," he said, his hand came down on the top of the steering wheel to emphasize his point. Scott turned to look at Isaac and saw that he was slumped over in his seat. Isaac yanked at his seatbelt with one hand, fully shifted, and clawed at the door of the Jeep with the other.

He was officially freaking out.

His exhaustion, bottled up emotions, and PTSD were all fighting a losing battle in his head. Usually simple things like traffic wouldn't set him into a panic attack, but it seemed all forces were working against him. His seatbelt felt like it was suffocating him, the walls of the Jeep were smaller than he remembered, and his werewolf senses were dialed up to ten.

Isaac stopped clawing at the door and frantically looked around the car to find anything that could help put him at ease, but came up short. The cars that surrounded the Jeep started getting closer and closer and Isaac started to use his free hand to claw at his chest, willing his heart and lungs to slow down.

However, before he could do any real damage, he felt his wrist being yanked away from his skin. More terror coursed through him at the confining grip until he realized that it was Scott holding him. His eyes found Scott's and Isaac let out a small, barely audible whimper.

Scott, however, heard it and jumped to do something to help Isaac. They wouldn't get anywhere if they stayed on the highway where Scott had to split his attention between Isaac and the road, so Scott shifted his hand to hold Isaac's as he moved to pull off the closest exit. In about five minutes, they were parked in the nearest diner and the driver's side door was thrown open.

Isaac's state had not improved in those five minutes. He was in dizzying state between reality and that damn freezer. His surroundings were disorienting and he couldn't make out what was real and what his panic-ridden brain was feeding to him. The only thing he could feel was the cold hand that once held Scott's.

He distantly heard the sound of the passenger door being thrown open and his seatbelt unbuckled. Suddenly, someone's hands were on his face as they said his name over and over again.

Isaac's brain cleared enough to register that Scott kneeled in front of him, hands on his cheeks, and repeated his name in hopes of garnering his attention.

Isaac locked eyes with Scott. Before Scott could acknowledge what was happening, Isaac threw himself out of the car and ran to the middle of the deserted parking lot. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the bile creeping up his throat to return from where it came. The next time he opened his eyes he took a deep, albeit stuttered, breath and looked around. The only person he could see was Scott and the closest object to him was at least fifty feet away.

He collapsed on the concrete and spread his arms and legs out as far as they went. Scott slowly made his way to Isaac, sitting on the ground next to him, but allowing him space.

The pair sat in silence for a while, the seconds ticking by as Isaac closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths.

Isaac was the first one to break the silence and turned his head towards Scott.

"I used to be in that freezer until I no longer knew what day it was." Isaac closed his eyes and took another steadying breath. "It didn't matter what I did, because to him, I always deserved it. I thought that by becoming a werewolf all these stupid feelings in me would have stopped. It only made it worse." Isaac talked slowly as he came to terms with his situation alongside Scott. "I don't remember how it started, but I remember every single time. I remember the bandages I wore on my fingernails because I pried them all off at some point or another. I remember the hours convincing myself that I deserved every second I spent in that fucking freezer. I remember the sound of my Dad coming down the basement steps, praying that he was going to let me out before he turned around and went right back up the stairs. I remember him letting me out of that box and hugging me tight, convincing me that he loved me and only wanted the best for me. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it worked. I didn't know how to run away. I didn't know how to leave because he was all I had. I stayed because I was scared he was all I'd ever have. I didn't want to take the chance that he was right. That I'd be nothing without him."

After Isaac's confession they sat in silence. Isaac eventually sat up to match Scott's position.

"I- I don't know what to say." Scott confessed.

"It's alright," Isaac reassured, "I thought you deserved an explanation in exchange for dealing with me," he breathed out.

"God, Isaac, you don't owe me anything. Why didn't you tell me about this earlier, I could have helped you!"

"It didn't matter earlier. What were you going to do, add my shit on top of the shit you already had to deal with?"

"Of course it matters that you're dealing with this! And alone?" Scott emphasized before taking a deep breath, "I'm not really good at giving words of wisdom, or any advice really, but I'm here, always. I know it sounds hollow, but I'm around whenever you need to talk or rant or, who knows, punch. You don't have to keep going through this alone. That's what a pack is for." Scott reached his hand over to the boy's and clasped it around Isaac's.

Isaac lifted his eyes to meet Scott's and squeezed the his hand in lieu of thanking him, not knowing if he had the capacity to talk yet.

"You hungry?" Scott asked after a while. He released Isaac's hand and got up off the cement, reaching his hand out to help the other boy up.

"Is this place even running?" Isaac asked disgusted, looking at the not-so-nice exterior of the run-down diner.

"Only one way to find out!" Scott shouted, already on his way inside.

[forever-rogue]

I’ve got a question (and I’m not sure if you’ve already answered this, so I’m sorry if it’s already been asked!) about Afterglow. What did the voicemail say? Do you have any ideas of what Frankie said? I’m agonizing over it.

AN | I’ve never really answered this…how about we finally find out?🥰 

Pairing | Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 1k

Masterlist | Frankie, Main

Read Afterglow Here!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you looked out into the living room. The door to the backyard was open, bringing the fading golden daylight and the warm California air. Outside, fairy lights twinkled everywhere, illuminating the garden beautifully. But the most beautiful was right in front of you.

Frankie was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch with his baby girl resting against his chest, and Jaime at his feet with Daisy sleeping next to him. He was holding open a picture book, the kids’ favorite of the moment and reading it to them - well mostly Jaime - but putting on all sorts of different voices for each character. The young boy couldn’t get enough of it. 

He must have sensed you watching them because he paused for a moment and looked over, giving you that megawatt smile you adored. You felt your cheeks warm as he shot you a quick wink before turning his attention back to the kids. You couldn’t complain; you’d have him all to yourself once you put the little ones down.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

“Honey Bee,” he sang happily as he came back downstairs after finally getting Ally and Jaime to bed. He’d insisted on taking over that duty tonight since you’d been working so hard and tired lately. You hadn’t told him that it was partially his fault - affectionately of course - because you were pregnant again. Yeah…it definitely hadn’t been intended for you to get pregnant so soon since your daughter was just over a year old. But…these things happened - happy accidents you liked to think, “you look beautiful.”

“I’m wearing ratty pajamas, haven’t washed my hair or slept properly in days,” you eagerly accepted the hug he offered, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he pressed soft kisses to your hair, “I highly doubt I look that beautiful.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he whispered, “still the most gorgeous being in the universe.”

“Francisco,” there was nothing but fond adoration behind your little admonishment. You pulled back for a moment before taking his face in your hands and kissing him softly, “I love you.”

“I love you,” even after all this time you managed to raise a flush to his cheeks, “tell me what’s on your mind. I can practically hear the gears turning.”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to shrug it off but he wasn’t buying it, “it’s not nothing. But It’s not that important. Not anymore anyway.”

“Tell me,” he tried to coax it out of you gently, but you knew he wouldn’t push you if you weren’t ready, “baby.”

“The voicemail,” oh yes. Frankie immediately knew what you were referring to, “I think about it sometimes. It comes and goes, you know? But still…I wonder what it said.”

“Ahh, yes,” he teased softly, “the voicemail. I can tell you exactly what it said, if you really want to know.”

“I do.”

“Even after all this time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, hopping onto the counter and he settled in between your legs, hands on your thighs, “tell me.”

“Well,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “it was just me rambling on. But I said that I was sorry for everything - for leaving like I did, for not telling you sooner, or fucking up all of our plans. I reminded you that you deserve everything, and you shouldn’t ever settle for anything less. I said that I was sorry for only being able to call sporadically, that you were the best thing that had ever happened to me.”

“Francisco,” your expression softened and you felt tears start to well up. You were going to blame pregnancy hormones for that.

“And then,” he reached up and tenderly wiped away your tears, “I said that as soon as I was able to I was going to leave - leave the military. I realized what a mistake I made and I just wanted to come home to you. Because my home was - and is - wherever you are. I wanted to come and be with you, while you were finishing school and whatever, and that we’d make it work. Somehow we’d make it work.”

You were fully crying now and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. After all these years you finally got to hear what he had said. And that if you’d just listened…things could have been so different, “‘m sorry, Frankie. I’m so sorry. If I had just listened to it…all this time, we could have…you were just waiting on me, weren’t you? To say yes.”

“Hey,” he nodded softly but he just held you and gently rubbed your back, “it’s okay, Bee. We figured it out in the end. It worked out - we’re okay. We’re here, in California, in our own home, with our children. We got there in the end.”

“We did,” you agreed, sniffling but smiling at him, “I love you very much. You and our little family.”

“I love very, very much too,” he grinned, pressing soft kisses all over your face, “nothing else matters, yeah? We have each other and everything we ever dreamed of. Just like we always said.”

“I know,” you sighed wistfully. His eyes were so soft and gentle as he studied, “I’m pregnant.”

You blurted it out before you could even think about it, but the smile that grew on his face was worth it. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy curls, “really? This is…wow - amazing.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “surprise!”

“Fuck,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “I love you so much, Honey Bee.”

“I love you, Francisco,” you brushed your lips against his, “forever and always.”

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

Arthur didn’t miss the militarisation; he chose to omit that information : a word salad

I don’t think there’s a single mistake in movie history that has riled up this many people as arthur darling missing militarisation of Fischer. It’s (beautifully, always) taken as the moment eames shows arthur “it’s okay bb I love you” in all the fics ever (keep doing that please it’s my jam) and over the past 13 years people have been toying different ideas trying to figure out the reason for the best point man in the industry to miss such important detail of the job.

nobody asked, but here’s my two cents on it.

But first, lemme briefly mention the theories I have seen so far in the fandom regarding this

1. Arthur missed it. Just as it’s portrayed in the movie. He’s just human and humans are bound to make mistakes. There’s no mystery/backstory/explanation; he just missed it. cause even tho he strives to be, he isn’t 100% perfect.

(it’s very possible, but where’s the fun in this explanation cmon)

2. Arthur missed it cause he was too burned out by the long two years of babysitting cobb and he was too busy in inception job itself playing mentor to Ariadne while doing his point man duties

(I agree. totally. He needed to be wrapped in a blanket and fed cookies 30 seconds in to the damn movie)

3. Arthur didn’t miss it. He hid the fact intentionally to con the team. He was double crossing cobb/Eames and was actually helping cobol/CIA so he made the job difficult by keeping it a secret

(I’m not overly fond of this explanation, and it’s doesn’t ring true with the canon, but I see the appeal. The whole eames/arthur enemies to lovers extravaganza *chefs kiss*)

4. Arthur didn’t miss anything. Fischer wasn’t militarised. The projections were cobbs, including that giant ass train.

(Im not smart enough to completely understand this explanation but it’s a big brain idea *applause*)

so.. now onto the silly little idea I had.

(this could very well be an already discussed idea, I’m waaaaay late to the party, but I just haven’t come across it so far. Please bear with me if you’ve mentioned/seen someone mention it anywhere)

What if..what if it was arthur himself who militarised Fischer. What if it’s a job he did while running around the world with cobb and he did it from everyone?

in actual, real world, country hopping, funding lawyers, paying for law suits and funding for two kids actually need a truckload of money. While the Miles couple must’ve helped with some of those expenses, there must’ve been a huge amount of balance for cobb to cover, and despite being a runaway dad, cobb must’ve tried his best to make things at home were going smooth at home, taking as much jobs he could get, even the riskier and shadier ones.

however, with his mind falling apart and mal being not so lovely, there must’ve been a moment the efforts just weren’t enough. Cobb wouldn’t have mentioned it or more likely, wouldn’t have even noticed it, cause if the movie is any indication, the tabs must’ve been kept by a certain very meticulous point man.

arthur ,more than anyone else, knew how much cobb wanted to see his children and how hard he was trying to get his name cleared and get back to them. so, letting cobb know that he wasn’t dong enough as a father and a protector was definitely out in arthurs book.

so what if, while pretending for both his and cobbs sake that everything was just fine, arthur started taking up extra work to fill out those gaps? certainly not heavy inception-level work, but the ones which would only require a point man or just an architect. jobs without too much trouble, almost legal and which could be done in between jobs.

and arthur wouldn’t have minded missing a few nights sleep here and there, if it meant the lawyers keeping the feds off cobbs back were paid and happy. he knew his best friend was already beating himself up for mal, both the real life person and the projection and leaving such young kids alone, so even when cobb grumbled about research being completed late, arthur never let cobb know it’s cause he’s also handling another jobs research and add to the staggering weight of guilt his friend carried.

so what if, militarisation of Fisher was one such run-in-the-mill job that was done in super secrecy? Arthur was consulted when fishcer senior fell ill, arthur flew in (stateside), met Robert barely once, did the job and flew back.

when inception came along, arthur was obviously in a nice little pickle and he knew he had to talk cobb out of it (in the movie, we could see arthur being wary of inception from the get go, and while the extreme chance of utter failure could’ve been the reason, this could also be the reason why he didn’t wanna go through with it *cue stabby salad scene*) there was no way arthur could tell this to cobb without hurting him as then he would’ve had to explain all the rest to him as well.

being the point does mean he has to know it all, but it never says the others also have to know as much he does. so arthur keeps it hidden, but takes all the precautions; he makes sure everything is planned well and that everyone is trained in gun combat ( even the first class flight attendant specially the first class flight attendant ), knowing that worse that could happen would be dying in a dream, which for arthur, only meant waking up at that point. arthur was sure they could go thru with it cause as he says in the movie “it’s nothing they haven’t dealt with before”.

I love the level of calmness arthur was exuding when cobb tears him a new one and while it could be simply because arthurs life long experience of dealing with cranky cobb, there was also this hint of resigned “I’ve been expecting this” nature to his demeanour that was too calm, even for arthur. He tries to calm cobb down in the most placating manner cause Arthur must’ve decided that he deserves whatever that’s coming along his way and has been ready to take the blame since day one and tries his damndest to make sure everyone makes it out alive cause he was prepared and was sure. arthur didn’t mind playing the betrayer so that cobb could walk away guilt free out of inception.

however, what arthur never, ever expected was the person he has considered as his closest friend, to betray him and everyone else in the worst possible manner.

[chriscrosswallflower-blog]

we're not brave, we're not soldiers - chapter 6

learn to live again

Percy ran in a full out sprint, savoring the blood pumping vigorously in his ears and cool night-time air on his face. It was just after 2 am, but luckily the harpies were well aware of his insomniatic habits and now just left him alone. His nighttime runs seemed to be the only thing that exhausted him enough to possibly sleep after a nightmare.

Almost every part of camp was dark and deserted, save for one light in the infirmary’s on-call room. Percy rolled his eyes fondly before making his way toward the window and smashing his face against it to see inside.

Percy made funny faces for nearly five minutes before Will looked up from the large textbook he was hunched over and let out a loud squeal of alarm. Percy was breathless with laughter by the time Will opened the window.

“The hell are you doing?” Percy could tell that the boy was trying to sound stern but the smile pulling at his lips gave him away.

“Man, I hope you scold your siblings better than that!”

“Did you come up here at the asscrack of night just to make fun of me?” Will said in a huff, moving out of the way as Percy climbed through his window, nearly landing on his head.

“Nah, I was out running and saw you were up too. Whatcha reading?”

“It’s the DSM 5 - unfortunately they haven’t translated it into Greek yet so it’s pretty slow going. I was honestly hoping it’d put me to sleep.”

“Does it usually?”

“No, but neither does pacing the Apollo cabin.” Percy gave a sympathetic hum.

“Yeah, running doesn’t help me much either, not anymore at least. Isn’t there a medicine that’s supposed to help with that?”

“Yeah, but it just makes my nightmares more vivid and keeps me in them longer. I was hoping that I might find some ideas in these textbooks, but so far no luck.”

The boys sat in companionable, drowsy silence for a while before an idea popped into Percy’s sluggish, sleep deprived brain.

“How would you feel about a late night swim?”

After nearly 20 minutes of convincing, Will finally submitted. When they got to the lake and waded in, Will was surprised to find that his feet didn’t feel wet.. He turned to Percy, who was wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“If you float on your back, it’s basically like one of those fancy sensory deprivation tanks. It’s really soothing, sometimes I fall asleep out here.”

“Why don’t you just sleep out here then?”

“Well the one time I slept out here all night Annabeth tore the camp apart looking for me, so I figure it’s not a good long term solution. It is a good way to calm down so I can sleep though.”

Will treaded water for a few minutes, trying to adjust to the odd feeling of being in the water without getting wet. It almost felt like a light hug with occasional waves. Eventually he took a deep breath before laying back and floating.

“Woah,” Will gasped. It was as though the world had been muffled. Slowly, he relaxed muscles he didn’t even know were tense, his body aching in relief.

Percy grinned, a warm wave of fondness washing over him as he watched the other boy drift. He knew that Will would start to nod off soon so he just treaded water lazily, enjoying the lull of the lake until the younger boy’s breathing was slow and shallow.

“Will?”

He only got a quiet groan in response so he sent a small wave toward his face, making sure he could breathe through it. It felt like someone lightly running their hand across his forehead. Will opened his eyes, blearily looking up at the stars.

The boy’s made their way back to camp, bodies heavy with exhaustion. Will started to make his way back to the infirmary before Percy stopped him and asked if he had been sleeping there too.

“I just don’t want to wake the kids up. I’m usually up and down all night so it’s just better.”

“Well so am I. C’mon,”

And with that, both boys fell asleep just inside the door to the Poseidon cabin, not even making it to Percy’s bed. After that night, Percy kept a cot just for Will in his cabin. Embarrassed, the younger boy tried to sleep in his own cabin when he could, but more nights than not, he ended up at Percy’s. Some nights they would lean into their insomnia, playing board games and goofing off. Some nights they’d go for a long, strenuous run before desperately listening to white noise, begging to fall asleep. They even tried some meditation exercises that Will found in a book about natural medicine. They’d never know if it would work though because Percy couldn’t stop giggling whenever they tried it.

Either way, it was nice to not be alone during those never ending nights.

Though the two didn’t hang out often in the light of day, they tended to playfully orbit each other. Percy was always sneaking in to blow the horn obnoxiously during the Apollo cabin’s music lessons and Will enjoyed startling Percy during arts and crafts, often resulting in a huge mess. One time, when Percy was really engrossed in making a crude painting of the lake, Will startled him so badly that he flung his paint brush, which resulted in a large blue streak on Annabeth’s white t-shirt. The boys would never live that down.

Life was finally finally beginning to be good again. But by the end of the summer, Percy was missing and Camp Halfblood was thrown into chaos yet again.

Read more on AO3

[evilhasnever]

hmmmmMMMM if you’re still taking prompts I have lots of fondness for Fallow Fields!verse

Thank you so much! This turned into a vague Meng Shi POV (cw: some misgendering of A-Yao from SiSi, but she does love him. A-Yao has two moms.) This is pretty sad, given that it's about a trans kid in a brothel, and it is also... very much 1000 words about periods. No idea what possessed me to write about that. It's not a lot of fun, but no other CWs apply other than the above + Meng Shi's implied health issues.

(and here's a link to Fallow Fields, though you don't need to read it to understand this!)

If all of that is alright with you, proceed under the cut.

Meng Yao was thirteen when the first bleeding came. Later than most, but he was so small he still looked like a child younger than his age. Meng Shi had known it was going to happen sooner or later, and told her kid to come to her immediately when it did, making sure nobody spotted him on the way. 

And so he did - her A-Yao snuck into her room one early morning after spending the night god knows where, his outer robe wrapped around his waist and bunching awkwardly down over his thighs.

“Mama, I am bleeding,” A-Yao confessed, thighs pressed together fitfully and a painful grimace on his little face. “But nobody knows. I made sure of it.” Some blood had gotten on the hem of his sleeves, somehow.

“Come here my heart,” Meng Shi murmured, getting up from the bed even though her bones felt brittle. “Do not worry, we have everything ready for such a thing.” 

A-Yao turned wide, trusting eyes towards her. Such a good child, he wouldn’t say pointless things like that he didn’t want this, or that it hurt. Even though Meng Shi knew both of these things were true. She wished it had waited a few more years, until they were free from this place. But time doesn’t wait for anyone; A-Yao was small and gaunt, but he’d started hunching more lately, preemptively concealing a chest that was barely there, and Meng Shi wouldn’t be able to hide him for much longer.

“It doesn’t change anything, my heart,” she assured, gathering a few things. “Just make sure to wear a catch cloth, like this, and wash your own clothes where nobody can see. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not a lot,” A-Yao replied, obediently. She didn’t quite believe him, but pinched his cheek nonetheless. It was caked with grime, as it often was. Making sure A-Yao looked every bit like a street rat was the best defense against customers’ wandering eyes.

“Wash up and then lay down for a while, my dear. Mama will take care of everything.”

“I need to practice drills,” A-Yao protested, but he went to the water bucket willingly. 

“You can do that in the afternoon,” Meng Shi shushed him. “You can’t practice when you haven’t slept. A good sleep is a gentleman’s best friend.”

She helped him dress in clean clothes, showed him how to secure a cloth between his legs and not let it slip, then put him to bed with whispered reassurances. She petted his head until he fell into an uneasy slumber, and did not stop even as her joints ached with the repeated gesture. It had been a long night, and it would be an even longer day - she didn’t dare to sleep with her baby so troubled. 

“Shi’er, why are you still awake?” 

SiSi walked into the room with an armful of clothes that needed mending, makeup still on her face and her hair only half-up. She spared an assessing glance for A-Yao taking up the bed, then the bloodied clothes Meng Shi had balled up in a basket. 

“Shit. The aunt came, huh?” she whispered, careful not to wake the child. “You should have sent her away sooner, Shi’er. Now it’s too late.”

Meng Shi shook her head. Even if she’d been able to part from her child, without money and without a family name there was nowhere for A-Yao to go.

“How did the babe take it?” SiSi whispered, drawing Meng Shi towards the other side of the room.

“My A-Yao does not complain,” Meng Shi said proudly, but she couldn’t conceal the grimace that wanted to creep on her features. “But it’s going to be difficult from now on. My health’s been poor as of late, I must pick up the slack.”

SiSi gave her a disapproving but affectionate gaze. “Making it look like the kid has mange is all well and good, but plenty of creeps out there would not care. If the Madame so much as smells the blood on her, she is going to sell her first night before you can even say no,” she said darkly, echoing Meng Shi’s fearful thoughts. “Your rich man needs to come back soon, or Yao’er will lose any chance of ever marrying well.”

“A-Yao doesn’t need to marry,” Meng Shi reminded her firmly, her breath slightly labored as she stood to pick up the soiled clothes. “He will be a cultivator. Their rules are different. One can make their own way in the cultivation world if they’re strong.”

“Saying it doesn’t make it true, Shi’er. You filled your baby’s head with stories about gentlemanly heroes—“

“It was not my idea, it was A-Yao’s,” Meng Shi whispered heatedly. “Besides, it’s safer this way, isn’t it?”

SiSi groaned. “I want the best for the babe too, but—”

They both turned to look towards the bed, where A-Yao slept fitfully. His face was flushed and his lips rosy, the prettiness of youth inexorably blossoming on his features with each passing month, no matter how much they tried to conceal it with baggy clothes and powders. 

“SiSi,” Meng Shi sighed, closing the curtains between the little alcove and the rest of the room. “You know as well as I do that women hardly ever leave this place. If A-Yao can… if at least A-Yao could…” 

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The shared helplessness weighed on the both of them heavier than a stone, but their hope was shared as well, flimsy as it was. That a bright and willful child could make it out, could become someone.

Meng Shi nodded in a final manner, even as a traitorous cough made her choke in her fist. “If A-Yao can learn enough cultivation, he will be welcomed by his father no matter what he wears. Who wouldn’t accept such a good, filial child? He only needs to be strong enough to make the trip - we can protect him until then.”

 “Well, I agree with you on one thing, Shi’er… do not send that man a daughter.” SiSi rubbed Meng Shi’s arm dejectedly, shaking her head. “I’ll go get some ginger root for cramps.”

[pipitwrites]

M & U for the ask game!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

it is on the most back burner of back burners bc i have too many things going on 😭😭 but i did have sort of a silly idea where alex starts developing questionable fond feelings for a questionable ai charles who frequently misdirects him despite the best efforts of google maps... and plays soft piano music to lull alex to sleep... and tells alex oh so wistfully that the dinner he's made looks good when alex snaps a photo to send to his family groupchat... there is sort of a twist but i can't reveal quite yet in hopes that one day i actually will get around to doing something with this idea ;;;;

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.

i have been very 🧐 intrigued 🧐 by charles and lewis of late, but i'm intimidated by writing lewis tbh gnsjfjejfekg

[wrenqueenisboss]

DSMP x gn!reader heacanons (reader with bad sleep schedule)

Them reacting to you having a really shitty sleep schedule. Warnings: cursing (mild), mentions of wounds, showed cuts, cleaning on injuries (tell me if I forget anything, please)

Dream:

(you and dream live together in Florida (without Sapnap))

Dream had been in a call with Sapnap and George for hours and it was 2 am at this point

he had been screaming/shouting and laughing so consistently you had developed a headache (another reason it was difficult to sleep)

he had recently broken another speedrun world record so he was celebrating with his besties 

you hadn’t gone to bed yet because you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep without your boyfriend there

(both you and Dream really like cuddles. neither of you can sleep well without the other)

so you stayed on the couch, scrolling through twitter on your phone as you laid down

Finally, you heard Dream end his call, saying goodbye to his friends. His door creaked the slightest bit as he opened and closed it

Dream was so shocked to find you sitting on the couch at this hour. he was concerned too

“Babe? You’re still awake?”

you chuckled. “obviously”

he walked over to you and cuddled into your side. “You should be asleep. It’s late.” his voice was slightly muffled because of how he had his head nuzzled into your neck

“I couldn’t sleep without you there,” you mumbled, running your hand through his soft blond hair

Dream suddenly felt guilty “staying up this late really isn’t good for you. But if it helps you get to sleep, I’ll go to sleep earlier too”

you hummed happily before falling asleep cuddling your boyfriend

you were so tired you didn’t realize Dream had picked you up bridal style and taken you to your guys’ bed

Sapnap:

(you guys are in different houses for this) (he’s streaming and is also on a discord call with Karl and Quackity)

he was streaming at 2:30 in the morning when he got a random text from you “hi :) ,” it said

He rolled his eyes affectionately before responding “it’s late, idiot” “go to bed”

you sent back “I can’t” 

Sapnap looked back over at his stream. The chat was spamming questions on who he could be texting that would make him smile like that

finally, Karl from the discord call noticed how quiet Sapnap was being

“Sap? is everything okay?”

Sapnap looked up. “Oh yeah. I’m fine. I was just texting someone.”

“Who?” Quackity asked?

Sapnap made sure to mute on stream. “My partner.”

Karl and Quackity were shocked.

don’t worry, you and Sapnap had discussed that you were okay with his friends knowing about your relationship, but you wanted to keep it off stream and private

“You never told us you had a partner!” Karl said, happily.

“Well, I do. And they desperately want my attention, so I think I’m gonna end stream.”

“nooooo!” Karl and Quackity said dramatically in unison. “Your partner is evil, taking you away from us!”

Sapnap laughed then unmuted, giving an excuse before he ended stream to FaceTime you

George:

(you live in Brighton with George) (the internet knows you guys are dating. They ship you so much)

George was in a discord call (without camera on) at a pretty reasonable time, but you were exhausted

you hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past three days

Wanting to be near George you just walked into his room

he whipped his head around, surprised by the sudden noise of you opening his door

he took one look at your tired face and asked “are you okay?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. My sleep schedule is shitty and I feel like shit. I haven’t gotten proper sleep in three days”

George winced.

Sapnap and Dream screamed hellos into George’s headphones which made him take them off with a grimace

He unplugged his headphones and you heard your boyfriend’s friends’ greetings

you unenthusiastically waved before speaking in a tired voice “I’m taking your best friend. He’s needed for Cuddle Duty”

George smiled and shook his head playfully as his friends shouted in protest

“no!” dream shouted. “He’s-” he wheezed like a broken tea kettle “he’s my boyfriend” (George rolled his eyes at that)

Sapnap yelled, “don’t take him!!!! you’re a best friend stealer, Y/n! Shame on you!”

You frowned with mock malice. “Well, suck it up. ‘Cause I’m taking him.”

George actually laughed at that. “I guess that’s it. Bye, guys! I’m gonna help Y/n finally get some good sleep.”

Wilbur:

Wilbur was doing a YLYL stream when he needed to go get a glass of water

keep in mind, it was sorta late. Like, midnight.

so he walked into his kitchen only to find you snacking on some popcorn (potato chips for my friends with braces ;] )

he looks at you with fond sadness “my love, why aren’t you asleep?”

you look up at him with a sheepish smile “Will, you know I have a very shitty sleep schedule. I’m not gonna sleep tonight, I don’t think.”

Wilbur frowned. “I think not!” he said, moving to hug you from behind

he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent

“we’re gonna go to bed,” he mumbles. “It’s late”

“Uh... not really,” you said. “midnight isn’t that late. And plus, you’re streaming.”

Wilbur frowned again, remembering his stream 

“Oh yeah, my stream. That’s fine, I’ll just end it early. Laugh at a couple videos to make the perfect excuse.”

“That’s actually... a good idea.”

“Why do you sound so surprised, Y/n?”

You just chuckled and gently pushed yourself off from the counter, prompting Wilbur to let go of you and step back

You walked to your shared bedroom to get in bed

As you tucked yourself into bed, you finally realized just how tired you were. Your eyelids began to close as you were lulled into sleep by the sounds of your boyfriend’s laughter next door.

c!Technoblade:

he was just coming back from a patrol (protecting your guys’ home) pretty late at night when he saw you brewing potions at your desk

because it was so late, you had several lanterns lit around your workspace so you could read the tomes and instructions that you needed

Tech honestly didn’t expect you to be up this late

The voices (who love you) immediately erupt with concern

‘are they okay?’ ‘why aren’t they asleep?’ ‘are they hurt?’ ‘if someone hurt them... blood for the blood god’ ‘they look so tired’

Techno dropped his weapons in one of his chests then began to undo his armor

Noticing his presence, you dropped what you were doing and hastily walked over to him

“Let me help you,” you murmured as your fingers undid the buckles and clasps of his armor one by one

He thanked you when the armor was stored away as well, taking some more time to examine you

your sleep-lidded eyes had dark circles under them. Your movements weren’t as precise as normal, and to put it plain and simple, you looked exhausted.

“My love,” techno prompted, gently tilting your head up to get a better look at your eyes and face. “is everything alright?”

you huffed. “not really. I can’t sleep anymore and it’s really getting to me. It’s making me so clumsy.”

Technoblade’s shook as he chuckled. “I could tell. I’m surprised you didn’t knock into table on your way over to me.” It was true. On your way over to help him with his armor, you nearly ran your knee right into the heavy coffee table in the living room

You rolled your eyes and pointed at your work table. The desk that was usually so neat and organized now looked like a mini tornado had ransacked it

“The exhaustion has me so clumsy I broke a glass. I made a mess trying to clean it up, too.” 

You raise up your arms to show him the cuts on your hands and arms. There was some dried blood on your arms as well.

The Voices in Techno’s head once again exploded with comments of concern. He takes your hands in his, gently brushing his callused fingers over your wounds.

“I’ll help you clean these up and then we’ll get to bed, okay?” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips 

“okay”

and you do just that

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