#I don't even know if I can ever draw him right

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[anomaliex]

Collection of headcanons not elaborate enough for own word vomit post:

- I don't think Kristen can swim. She has the vibes of someone who never learned as a kid and now it's too late to bring up without being embarrassed. (Also I thought about what would happen if she fell in water — mechanically she's wearing heavy armor, would Brennan just let her swim since she's in universe only in a tracksuit or would she sink without a sufficient strength check? Idk, but that's how I got to the no swimming conclusion.)

- insanely weird hc to have but i think Fabian shaves his arm hair. Also like legs and arm pits i guess but the way more unusual and therefore notable thing is arms. This guy kills any body and facial hair on sight. Like no one has ever seen him with as much as stubble outside of Cathilda or the Bad Kids when they were sleeping over. Why? Idk he just prefers that, no deeper reason. I do think elves generally have less body hair but here his human genes come through so he has to shave. Or get it lasered away I guess. You can do that right?? He's rich. Maybe he'd do it.

- also Fabian's depth perception is dog shit. Using his crossbow is less impressive because Fandrangor is simply a better weapon and his flourishes and manoeuvres rely on melee combat, I know, but to me it's also just that he's better at hitting things real close to him.

- Riz is the kinda guy to have chronic migraines and think it's fine. "Everyone has headaches sometimes and I do sleep a lot less than I should ahaha" (the amount of coffee he drinks is barely saving him from the horrors.)

- Adaine also gets a lot of migraines in what I think are more. Passive non specific visions? Like a gut feeling that's always correct and also makes her body hate her. The proper visions are comparable to absence seizures I think? Like I don't wanna say it's that because it's magic but the process is kind of the same in the sense that she's out for like ten to thirty seconds and it can really suck

- I also think Adaine has synaesthesia! I can't really put this into words well so I'm not even gonna try, but she perceives certain sounds and/or colours at times where there shouldn't be sounds and/or colours. I think those associations also to an extend help in drawing connections between less specific visions and real life.

- we know Gorgug has a drumset in his room I think it's electronic. But like not in a normal way like we have them irl it's some insane artificer shit that would justify so much more noise complaints than a regular one and also could probably have its own pyrotechnics idfk. It's fully a safety hazard but it doesn't even rank on the top 10 of worst things to have in your house that is a TREE that the Thistlesprings casually own.

- I think either Fig or Kristen would be the shortest medium creature type Bad Kid. Like obviously Riz is four feet tall max but he's in a whole different category lmao

- Fig sometimes puts little braids in Jawbone's fur and he happily lets her. He only properly adopted Adaine and Fig has more than enough dads, but he does still act as sort of a paternal figure to her (and every other kid ((which in this case includes Ragh but maybe not Aelwyn)) in mordred manor because he's just a caring guy and it's hard not to grow attached) so that's their pseudo daddy-daughter bonding

- Fabian doesn't like, hate Gilear as much as he used to? Like he still has his moments but overall he thinks he's a good guy and absolutely has the "well I can shit on him but I'm gonna kill this other guy who did. How dare you make fun of my Mama's beloved??" mindset. But uhm he tries to make Gilear work out with him so he can "stop being death fodder". Gilear is a commoner and everyone else in Seacaster Manor absolutely is not and like he likes it and he loves these people but he does kind of live in hell. His wife? Could kill him. His step son? Could kill him. The maid? Could kill him. The dog slash motor cycle?? Could kill him. One hit. Also the entire current Seacaster household are dexterity based fighters they're all so graceful and skilled he's fully just a guy that spills every drink ever on himself

- I think the Hangman loves Cathilda because she gives good chin scritchies (hound form obviously lol) Generally he tends to mirror Fabian's attitude towards people anyway so he's always liked her, but once he started being a hound more she started petting him and giving him treats and he is smitten

- Gorgug (and sometimes Ragh or Ayda) play extreme fetch with the Hangman. Like I need to stress that he's not just a big dog he's large enough to be a mount, which means he'd have to be the size of a horse. Maybe a small horse sure but that's still a horse-sized dog. I think his mini looks fairly big but in my heart he's bigger. So yeah fetch with him (which they mainly do because they want him to feel comfortable in both forms because he's so good) is really big sticks. Like not logs or anything but sticks the average person can't huck all that far. Fabian casts enhance ability on himself so he can also do it, lol. The wonders of multiclassing into bard.

- I think the only Bad Kids who never use makeup are Riz and Kristen. Gorgug doesn't do it every day and not that much but he uses eyeliner sometimes. Fig's makeup is the most noticeable and usually very fun.

- Gorgug has kissed Ragh at least twice. So at least one time after the prom thing. I don't mean this in a ship way I mean this in I look at Gorgug and then I look at Ragh and I go yeah these guys have shared at least one tender bro kiss. I mean I think Gorgug is the kinda guy that would kiss all of his friends if they wanted to because it's not that big of a deal to him and he loves them but not everyone is comfortable w/ that lol. He and Kristen kiss each other on the cheek though, I think (this does not mean he wants to see her naked in public please put your clothes back on Kristen??)

[h0efor2ho]

Tutoring Temptation

Wonwoo X Reader

WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )

TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.

You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.

The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."

Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.

"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.

He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.

As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.

The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.

"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"

You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.

"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice  things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."

You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.

As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."

You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."

You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."

His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.

"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."

The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change.  As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.

Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.

As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.

The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind. 

As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed. 

“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.

The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.

He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem��� different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."

A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.

Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss. 

He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.

Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.

He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.

 His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.

He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance,  his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow. 

He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes  for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile. 

"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him. 

"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making  your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you. 

His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be. 

"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.

His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"

You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[laseracronym]

They Made You Cry (MHA/Fem!Reader)

(Laser: I'm sad today, so I curse you with angst.)

Summary: MHA characters reacting to making their girlfriend cry. (Angst, arguments, and some unhealthy relationship dynamics.)

Characters: Bakugou, Dabi, Aizawa, Shigaraki, Midoriya

MHA-MHA-MHA

Bakugou

Katsuki's heart sinks when he sees the unmistakable wetness that mists over your eyes. What's worse, what really makes him feel like the worst kind of bastard, is the way you shy away from his gaze with a sense of bitter defeat. Like he's getting what he wanted. Like his victory, his intention, was pushing you to tears.

As if he could ever consider this a victory.

"H-Hey..." he reaches out to you, awkward and unsure. He's so bad at dealing with tears, especially yours. It's so much easier to take on whatever piece of shit that's made you cry, but in this case, it's him. He's the piece of shit.

You sniffle, hurriedly brushing past him, equal parts angry and hurt.

"Whatever, Katsuki."

Dabi

The thing about you is that you're so damn unpredictable. Sweet one second, drawing blood the next.

Dabi kind of loves it. It keeps things from becoming boring, getting stale. And you're so hot when your eyes are ablaze with whatever emotion is overcoming you.

Just like right now, in the middle of some pointless, bullshit argument, when something he says makes you snap. You tackle him to the ground, your hands fisting into his jacket as you yell in his face. All he can do is grin up at you dangerously, just as angry, but equally as enticed by just how vibrant you look in this moment.

Then something even sweeter happens.

Big, fat tears begin to drip from your wild eyes, and Dabi sucks in a breath. You sob, frustrated and overwhelmed, and his cold, little heart warms at the sight.

"Oh, pretty girl..."

His arms wrap around you as you cry into his chest, cursing his name all the while. He strokes your hair, twisted affection squirming in his chest like a nest of spiders.

Always so unpredictable and entertaining.

Aizawa

"(Name), I-" Shouta falters, all the anger and frustration from your argument washed away by cold, all-consuming guilt at the sight of the tears slipping down your face.

You hurriedly wipe them away, stepping back, away from him, and the guilt deepens.

He knows you hate crying in front of him, even when it isn't his fault. It makes you feel weak, and he knows you worry he'll think less of you, that he'll find your more emotional way of being "irrational."

You turn, hiding your face as you try to walk away, but he stops you, gently catching you by the arm.

"Wait," he pleads, his voice gentle, "I'm sorry." Because no argument is worth making you cry.

"I don't want you to see me like this," you mutter, your head down. But at least you're not pulling away from him. He takes that as a good sign.

"Don't hide from me," he urges. He takes you by the chin and tilts your head up so he can look at you properly. He brushes your tears away, regretful that they're there in the first place. "Let's talk about this, okay?"

He's always so stubborn, set in his ways. But he'll try to meet you in the middle, to understand your perspective. You're worth it.

Shigaraki

Tomura feels no guilt at the sight of your tears, only vindictive satisfaction. Good. He'd been aiming to hurt you when he said those words to you. He really can't stand the way you make him feel sometimes, so he's happy to return the favor.

"You're seriously crying?" he taunts with a cruel smirk, poking at your cheek with a mocking finger.

You smack his hand away, "fuck you, Tomura, you fucking prick," you hiss, trying not to cry even more in front of him. You turn and storm away from him before things get even worse.

"You're so pathetic!" he calls after you, making sure you can hear him before you slam the door behind you.

He huffs, standing there and scratching at his neck. You're so damn overdramatic, a pain in his ass. You deserve to cry a little for the shit you put him through.

The image of your tear-filled face flashes through his mind. He ignores the way it makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

Midoriya

Izuku feels his own eyes fill with tears, watching you hug yourself and cry in front of him.

"(N-Name)... please don't cry..." he begs, his hands brushing up and own your arms, trying to console you.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," you cry, your words making his heart ache. You scrub a shaking hand over your eyes, "I was so s-scared for you!"

"I'm sorry, (Name)," he pulls you into a hug, his own tears running free. He really scared you this time. It was a close call. "It's okay, I'm okay. I'm here."

He shushes you gently, guilt spreading through his chest at the distress he's caused you. His job is always going to cause you to worry, the only thing he can do is try his best to come home to you at the end of the day.

(Requests)

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Adaline to Adam AU)

⚠️this story will deal with transitioning which will also include things like transphobia, misgendering, and deadnaming⚠️

Adam hated looking at his reflection, he knew for a long time he was really a man. But the problem was that he was born in the wrong body, a woman’s body. He even preferred the name Adam over Adaline. He pulled his long hair in a ponytail wishing to cut it short, but he worried that would draw any questions. So far the only person he told was his mom and she 100% accepted him and was going to help him through transitioning. The person he feared telling the most was his boyfriend because he loved him so much and he feared Lucifer dumping him.

Adam internally: It’s one thing for him to accept me being bisexual, this is me changing so much about myself.

Sera walked into the bathroom and hugged him.

Sera: Starlight, Lucifer is here to take you to school.

Adam: I am going to tell him so I can get the break up over with. I don’t want to go to prom and be dumped there.

Lucifer had asked him to prom and they planned on going to a hotel afterwards so they could have sex for the first time. Poor Lucifer was nervous when they went the pharmacy to get the condom. Adam was surprised when he picked a bigger size. Lucifer stuttered saying that in spite of his short height he was big down there. Curious Adam asked to see it and when they were alone Adam was impressed to see that Lucifer was right. Lucifer promised that he would be gentle as Adam gently touched it.

Sera: Maybe his reaction will surprise you, he loves you so much.

Adam: He loves Adaline, not Adam.

Adam wiped his hand over his eyes hoping that he didn’t start crying over this. He went down stairs and smiled seeing Lucifer, he couldn’t help but love him. They met in kindergarten and now at eighteen years old they were dating like everyone predicted, but Adam didn’t know how long that would last.

Lucifer: Ready for school.

Adam: Yeah.

Adam adjusted the skirt he was wearing along with the tank top and black leather jacket before they got into Lucifer’s car.

Lucifer: Has something upset you, you’re crying.

Adam: I am about to tell you something and I want you to know if you want to take someone else to prom you can.

Lucifer: Why would I want to take someone else, I love you.

Adam: I am not Adaline, I am Adam. I was trapped in the wrong body. It should have been a man’s body, not a woman’s body. I’ll find another way to go to school if you don’t want to look at me.

Before he could leave the car Lucifer pulled Adam into his arms.

Lucifer kissed his cheek: Don't be ridiculous, I'll love you no matter what.

Adam cried, he was so relieved when he heard those words, he had been so worried for nothing.

Adam: T-thank you Luci.

Lucifer: Besides, I've always kind of known.

Adam pulled back: Really? How?

Lucifer gave him a knowing look: You were not exactly a girly girl, you've always been into things that most guys like and I didn't want to say anything. In case you weren't ready. And as beautiful as you look with your long hair, pretty skirt, and tank top they're not you.

Adam cried some more, this was more than he could have hoped for.

Adam: Y-you mean it?

Lucifer: I do. And whoever you decide to live your life as, I just know I want to be by your side. I've loved you forever and nothing will change that. In fact, when you're ready I'll even pay for your hair cut.

Adam smiled he was so happy, just when he thought he couldn't love Lucifer more.

Adam: You're the best boyfriend ever.

Lucifer kissed him: So are you.

[yesimwriting]

Phantom Lurking

A/n This is a story set in the bestie reader verse that I briefly mentioned in an ask, but there's no specific context needed outside of the fact that reader and louis are extremely close best friends

Warnings: nothing too crazy (especially when compared to the source material) but there's mentions/implications of someone putting something in reader's drink but, within the fic, reader is never actually in danger of being physically hurt, reader feeling sick/anxious, Armand being emotionally manipulative as a way of expressing affection

Summary: After an argument with Louis, you decide to go out with an old friend. Once you're home again, you're forced to deal with two realizations. The first is that you feel a lot worse than you should, and the second is that Armand isn't the worst at being helpful when he wants to be.

----

The world feels flat, like one of the three dimensions you're used to being able to perceive has slipped into nonexistence. You frown, letting the thought inch its way up your spine.

You blink. Once and then twice, as if the familiarity of the gesture will be enough to remind you of what you were doing--of the reason for the phone in your hand.

"Woah," the voice is sharp enough in its happiness to jab at your stomach. You lift your head, ignoring the rigidness of the movement as you look to the source of the sound. Grace--your friend, Grace. A part of you is almost complacent enough to be eased by the realization that she's here. "You look so sad."

You can feel your eyebrows draw together. Do you? And then, as your fingers tighten around your cell phone, a second thought latches itself onto the first: Are you?

"Don't worry," she says, voice so chipper it almost stings. "He'll be over it tomorrow."

Right. On instinct, you let your head fall downwards. You unlock your phone, eyes narrowing at the screen's brightness as you open your messages. No new ones. Just the last texts you managed to send to Louis before you started feeling too nauseous to type: Not feeling. Okkay.

The lack of response presses itself into your lungs, making it impossible to breathe right. Louis was upset , but you can't imagine him ever being mad enough to not text you back. "But Louis answers."

Grace watches you for a second, her head tilting curiously at your phrasing. "Maybe he's sleeping." When the suggestion doesn't seem to sway you, she places a hand on your bare shoulder. Your mind is aware enough to acknowledge the intentions behind the contact, but her skin is so warm and sweaty against yours it's nearly nauseating. "It's late."

Louis keeps different hours than the general population, but that's not something you can fault her for not knowing. Besides, maybe it is so late that the night is morphing into morning. It wouldn't be the first time you and Grace lost an entire night to partying, and it would explain why you feel so incredibly out of it.

And...if Louis was really upset, he might have gone to bed early. He mentioned once that sometimes vampires enclose themselves in their coffins to avoid dealing with discomfort. It sounds deeply dramatic to you, but it's possible he's doing something similar.

You exhale, nodding so slowly the motion feels like more of a caricature of a human response than anything else. She laughs, the sound full in its certainty. Your stomach doesn't know how to digest her easiness.

"You'll feel better tomorrow." Grace's hand pulls itself away from your arm. "Okay--keys." When all you do is stare at her, she sighs. "First, I have to stop you from going home with that weird guy you met while waiting for the bathroom..." She trails off as she reaches for your purse. "And now you don't even remember where you are."

Hm. Grace's chastising gives you something to focus on. You blink, lifting your gaze as you glance around the building. The pale walls and warm lighting are familiar...this is your apartment building. How did you get to your apartment building?

Grace rifles through your purse, the contents of your bag clinking together as she searches through it. After a second, she seems to find what she's looking for. She turns away from you and towards the door.

"Okay," she hums triumphantly, "We're in."

You take the words as a sign to step forward. Your thoughts don't align with your movements. The delay is enough to make you stumble, your foot missing the base of your heel.

Grace is next to you in a second, her hands latching onto your arms to keep you stable. "How much did you drink?" The question lacks her earlier amusement.

You're not sure you're meant to respond, but you think about it anyway. It didn't feel like that much...but you don't exactly remember every moment, every drink--and you were mad at Louis.

She watches you for a second, her eyes wide and much too focused. "Are you okay?" It's a question your mind refuses to dwell on. Of course you're okay. "Like--okay to be left alone."

"Mhm," the answer feels hollow, "Yeah." Grace continues to stare, her lips pressed together in a way that conveys her uncertainty. "I'm just gonna go to sleep."

She studies you for another beat, and then sighs, "Okay--but straight to bed. And no more texting." Easy enough to follow. Grace lets go of you slowly. "And maybe try to drink some water--and--and try to sleep on your side."

You nod blankly, your hands reaching for the door in front of you. "Water, side, no texting."

Grace sighs as she walks forward. "And call me in the morning, okay?"

You squeeze the side of the door in an attempt to feel more stable. Tomorrow morning feels so far...so impossible. "Okay. Yeah."

She turns her head to look at you one last time before continuing down the hall. You step into your apartment before shutting the door behind you.

The darkness of your apartment immediately pushes itself to the front of your mind, blending into your unease in a way that's dizzying. You exhale, letting your weight rest against the door. You shut your eyes, inhaling as you force yourself to focus on the concrete. The ground beneath your feet is steady, the wood against your back is stable.

"You turned off your location."

The tension that takes over your body is so sharp, so heavy it briefly leaves you paralyzed. You open your eyes, pushing yourself further against the door.

Wait. The voice. You know that voice. The recognition doesn't ease you until a familiar figure pulls itself away from the shadows enshrouding your living room in darkness.

"Oh my god," you manage a second too late, the words devoid of the necessary bite needed to turn the phrase into a warning. "I thought you were a serial killer."

Armand doesn't care about your reaction. He just continues walking towards you with slow, even steps. Your mind is too foggy for his theatrics. "What..." Your questions feel too inadequate for you to make them mean anything. "Is Louis--is he okay?"

He stills at that, but it doesn't really matter. He's close enough now that the darkness isn't obscuring his features. For a moment, you think the question might have softened his expression. "Now you can find it in yourself to worry about him? After the way you spoke to him?"

Of course Louis told him. The haziness clinging to your thoughts has turned everything into sludge. Your lips part, some barely coherent defense-apology hybrid attempting to crawl its way up your throat. All you can manage is a slurred, "He was--dramatic, and I--" You push a hand against the door in an attempt to make yourself stand on your own. "I'm sorry." You're not sure why you're apologizing. It's not like Louis can hear it.

Armand continues forward. You don't think about where he might be going until you feel his hand on your arm. He's a lot less careful than Grace was, but something about the feel of his skin against yours is also a lot less overwhelming. If anything, the coolness of his touch is almost alievating.

"I don't--" You're not sure there's much point in explaining anything. Not when the only thing tethering you to consciousness is your nausea. You can't remember ever feeling so separate from yourself. "I don't feel good. If you're gonna lecture me, do it tomorrow."

Tomorrow. It feels more like a concept than a date. Things would be so much better if you could just fade out of existence until then.

Armand pulls you away from the door. Your limbs are too stiff to protest. His eyebrows draw together, and something behind his expression shifts. "I'm not here to lecture you."

"Then why are you here?"

His thumb moves out of place, brushing against your skin soothingly. "After your argument--Louis came back to me, he told me about what you said, how you treated him, and then he went to bed. Hours later, you sent him a message saying you didn't feel well..." He squeezes your arm a little tighter. "And you turned off your location."

It had been an extremely petty move, but in the moment, a few drinks in, it had felt so reasonable. If Louis was going to see you as fragile, you'd have to show him that you felt no interest in being looked after. "I was mad."

"And now you're experiencing natural consequence." His hold on you morphs into something that borders on uncomfortable, his nails pressing into your skin. "Do you know what people see when they look at you?" You can't do anything but stare at him. "You refuse to acknowledge your vulnerability, and then you stumble home like this."

Okay--you're drunk, but not--not horrible. You’re standing (mostly), and you haven't said anything weird to him. "You're not clueless." The words almost feel like a compliment. "How much did you have to drink?" You don't have an answer. "You don't know? Because I've seen you with Louis, and even when alcohol makes you sick, it's never like this."

Your limbs seem to grow heavier at the implication of his words. Did someone drug you? There was that one guy that hung around you and Grace a little too long, but he never got you a drink.

"Maybe you'll learn to appreciate Louis's warnings instead of running off with the first girl that offers you something simple."

Louis--when he learns about what happened, when he learns that you tried to call him...and that he wasn't there. "Don't tell him."

He angles his head towards you. "You're asking me to keep a secret from my companion for you?"

Ugh. "No." You didn't mean it that way, or at the very least, you didn't want to mean it that way. You can't make sense of things for yourself let alone for another person. "I don't know." Your head is starting to ache. "I just don't--I don't want him to feel bad."

Armand lets go of you slowly, his fingertips brushing against your arm as he straightens. "We'll worry about him tomorrow." There's a certainty there that leaves no room for argument.

The thought of delaying your worry doesn't feel as simple as he's making it out to be, but you can't find the words or energy to disagree. You're not sure what you'd be arguing for, anyway.

He turns with no warning, walking down the hall like this is his apartment. His decisiveness might have bothered you if it didn't make things feel a little easier. Even with Armand serving as a guiding force, your mind seems to buffer. It takes you a second to think to act on the desire to follow him.

It shouldn't be surprising that Armand seems so comfortable moving through your apartment. He's nowhere near as familiar with this space as Louis, but you find it hard to imagine Armand uncomfortable anywhere.

He finds your room. A more coherent version of yourself would have had the energy to worry about the last minute outfits you rejected and didn't have time to put away sitting on your desk chair.

The familiarity of your bedroom is enough to get you to move forward. You approach your bed, half-sitting-half-stumbling onto the mattress. You're not given the chance to settle before your muscles slump out of place. It's an unraveling of tension that offers you no peace.

Dread pools in your stomach. You blink, screwing your eyes shut before forcing them open again in an attempt to fight against the drowsiness blurring your vision. It's too sudden, too heavy.

"You can't fall asleep like that." The words are gentle enough to reach you through your panic.

You want to tell him that you can't be falling asleep, that falling asleep doesn't hold this kind of weight. Instead of struggling to piece your thoughts into something intelligible, you lift your head slightly and mumble a flat, "I'm not."

Armand's back is to you, his attention focused on your dresser. When he turns to face you again, he's holding a familiar piece of fabric. One of the oversized T-shirts you sleep in.

It takes much more focus than it should for you to press your elbows into your bedding. The edges of your vision grow spotty as you stand. You're managing, but everything about your positioning feels circumstantial, like the slightest shift could push you into unconsciousness.

He hands you your shirt. You squeeze the fabric between your fingers. Before you can think to do anything else, Armand's hand finds your wrist. You still at the contact. He moves towards you with slow, deliberate steps.

Armand stops directly behind you. He sets his palm against your shoulder, his thumb smoothing patterns against your shoulder. His other hand settles against your upper back. Something about the contact makes it a little easier to breathe.

You're just getting used to his proximity making things feel easier when he pulls his palm away from you. Before you can overthink the shift, you realize what he's doing. The zipper of your dress has been tugged out of its place.

Armand's slow to release you, his fingertips dragging against your skin as he steps away from you. He walks forward until he's in front of you again, his attention firmly focused on the wall. It takes you a moment to realize that this is him offering you privacy.

You pull the T-shirt over your head with a tact that feels similar to that of a toddler dressing themselves for the first time. You adjust the shirt's hem before pulling the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and down your arms. The material pools at your feet. You step out of the puddle of sequined fabric.

You tilt your head downwards, frowning at the discarded dress. You need to pick it up.

"Sit." The instruction is presented with a directness that leaves no room for resistance, and yet all you can bring yourself to do is blink at him. He turns to face you again. "The last thing you need is proximity to the ground."

His voice is implying a level of irritation you can't handle right now, so you step away from the dress and move to sit on your bed. Armand walks forward. He bends down, picking up the dress before approaching your desk. He lays the dress over the back of your desk chair neatly.

He approaches your bed again, this time sitting down next to you. The return of his proximity is strangely easing. When he doesn't say anything else, you give in to the need to break the silence, "Thanks."

Armand nods once in acknowledgement of the sentiment. "Lie down." The thought immediately digs at you. If you lay down, if you lose consciousness, you'll be letting go of the little control you still have. Anything could happen to you, and--and you'd be so alone.

When you don't move, Armand straightens, his arm extending towards you. His hand finds your shoulder. "I can stay..." The offer feels fragile, like the slightest mistake on your end could force it to crumble into dust. "But only if you listen to me." He turns his hand over as you let his words sink in. He drags his knuckles against your arm patiently. "Are you going to listen to me?"

You nod, if for no other reason than to keep him here. If your acceptance means anything to him, his expression gives no indication of it. "Lie down."

You give in with a sigh, pushing your bedding back as best as you can from your position on the bed. You move beneath your sheets before relaxing against a pillow. After a second, Armand begins to shift. You're not sure what he's doing until he's lying down next to you. The return of his proximity is unexpected, but not unwelcome.

He adjusts your comforter just enough to expose your forearm. Before you can think about the change, he begins to trace patterns against your inner arm. The gesture is oddly grounding...and considerate...which, even in your current state, you can tell is odd.

"Can I ask you something?"

He continues to drag his fingertips against your skin. "A lack of permission has never stopped you before."

A fair point. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He tilts his head slightly as he considers the question. "Am I usually cruel to you?"

That's not exactly the difference. Armand is never particularly cruel to you. He's never made you feel like you're in physical danger, which means a lot when considering what he is. You've never even had much of a reason to fear arguing with him. However, you can't recall him ever being so understanding.

"No," you find yourself hoping he can feel how much you mean the answer. "But you're usually less patient."

His hand briefly stills against your arm. "I prefer a fair fight."

The sentiment roots itself in your chest, leaving your skin a little warmer than it was a moment again. "We can have one tomorrow."

"I don't doubt it," he says, voice much flatter than before.

Hm. The comment isn't exactly aggressive, but it implies an annoyance that doesn't suit his actions. Something uneasy wedges itself between your lungs and ribs. "Are you mad at me?"

You turn your head as best as you can, staring at him with an openness that a more sober version of yourself would have never allowed. "Mad at you, the darling sun?"

You sigh, letting your eyes fall shut. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything," his defense, though already weak, is further softened by the easiness of his tone. "I'm only recognizing what you are."

Opening your eyes, you turn your head to face him again. "What am I?"

He's quiet for a moment before angling his head towards you. It's a subtle shift, but something about it seems to amplify his proximity. Armand's eyes look a little softer than you remember them being, his irises closer to a brown-tinged ember than their usual amber hue. Maybe it's the limited lighting.

"Worthwhile suffering."

The answer feels much too soft to be considered an insult. You're not sure what to think of it. "You're very dramatic."

His hand stills against your arm. "I'm dramatic, when you're the one that turned off your location."

You don't have a decent response. Even as a teenager, you knew better than to completely turn off your location without letting anyone know where you were going during a night out. You're lucky that Grace was there and aware enough to get you back home, but things could have gone so much worse.

The thought of how incredibly stupid you've been burrows itself into your stomach, adding a sharpness to the underlying nausea you've almost been able to forget. Knowing that you're wrong and Armand's right isn't helping things, either.

And Louis--your Louis. Who cares if sometimes he worries so much it makes you feel like burden? At least he cares about you.

"I was mean to Louis."

Armand's hand stills against your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that somehow feels both reassuring and resentful. "He'll let it pass."

You let out a self deprecating sigh. There's no reason to believe that Louis won't forgive you, but that doesn't make things okay. "He shouldn't."

"Don't be a martyr." His dismissal isn't enough to diminish your angst. You frown, shifting away from him so that you can lie flat on your back. He's quick to counter your resistance, adjusting his position so that he's sitting up a lot more than you are. He's practically leaning over you, and all you can think to do is stare.

"He loves you," Armand's voice is a lot quieter than you thought it'd be, "There isn't a single thing you could do that he wouldn't forgive."

His certainty is enough for both of you. After a second of blankness, you find it in yourself to nod. The gesture is stiff and uneasy, but it seems to be enough for him. He relaxes slowly, moving to rest his head against your ribs.

His closeness is more of a surprise than it should be. You and Louis have fallen asleep like this more times than you can count. The shock takes a moment to subside, but once it does, you realize that you're... not uncomfortable.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you move a hand to rest against his upper back. Neither of you move.

"You should go to sleep," he whispers after what could be a long or short stretch of silence, "You'll be yourself in the morning."

The suggestion is a lot less overwhelming now. Maybe it's because you feel a lot more concrete now. You shut your eyes, but before you can try to find rest, you remember where you are and who you're with.

"Wait," you mumble, "The window--" You're not managing the urgency you feel. While your room isn't exactly flooded with light in the morning, the sun does reach your bed in the mornings if you don't remember to fully shut your curtains.

"The curtains are fine." Armand shifts slightly, his hand settling against the arm not bent against his back. "Rest."

You close your eyes again, this time finding it in yourself to relax fully.

----

@joong-of-gold this is the fic i mentioned having in my drafts a little while ago!!

[likeiknoworsmthin]

HC, Bruce is in an On/off (if we're on the same geography location) relationship with Selina and Khoa (each independent from the other) and they're free to pursue other people in the meanwhile, so the bat kids are just wanting to hook up Bruce with Clark and Diana to get ride of Khoa towards the years

Dick "I'm fine with the multiple partners cycle and the on/off relationships, all cool, but I draw the line at fuckin Minhkhoa Khan." Grayson.

Dick (12yo): Supes would be a good boyfriend? don't you think? So nice and gentle, so much better than that bet-asshole.

Bruce: Lenguaje. And Clark is already in a relationship, ¿I thought you like Miss Lane?

Dick: Yeah, but she's a girl. He doesn't have any boyfriend, and you could get him, will be fun.

Bruce: *Horrified at what he has done to Dick's concept of relationships* Most people just have one partner at a time like your parent...

Dick "Circus kid": ¡Ja! You should come up with something better, nobody does that, my parents used to kiss other people all the time.

Bruce: *refrains the urge to facepalm. Of course. And of course, thinking about his family, he has no one to use as an example* I'm really not making this up, most people date a person at a time. Besides, I think he's straight.

Dick: *confused* That doesn't even make sense!

Bruce: It means that he does not feel attracted to men. At all. I'm serious, Dick, don't bother him.

Dick: *snorts* Yeah, sure, B. *Wanders off of the bat cave*

A few weeks later, being baby-sat by Clark.

Dick: So... I heard a rumour

Clark: ¿Yeah? ¿Something you want to share?

Dick: Is it true that you only date a person at a time or is just for one of each.

Clark: *FLUSTERED, too flustered to function* ¿Wha-...?

Dick: yeah so you can have a boyfriend ¿Right? Or aunty Lo is in a relationship with Clark, ¿No? So ¿Superman can have a boyfriend? B does that sometimes.

[Clark.exe stop working.]

Later Clark's going to yell at Bruce for what kind of dive he's raising a poor kid in. ¿What the hell is he taught him with all his "playboy" thing? Poor kid will be traumatized...

Jason "My father is a cheater and my mom has to sell herself for her dose. ¿What even is monogamy" Todd.

Jay(13): So you like cats? *Just after a very dramatic fight between Diana and Cheetah, while Jason is visiting for the new museum exhibit*

Diana: .... *Utterly confused* Yes, of course.

Jay: Not to rain in your parade, but that cat-lady is too... Unique for you. Don't cha'? Should try the Gotham, flavor, she's classy and include a bonus bat.

Diana: *Holding laughter* I didn't mean it like that.

Jay: Yeah, sure, keep telling ya that. *Stops here, but tries to bouch for Bruce and Selina every chance he has. Diana is too amused.*

Casandra "My parents didn't even teach me how to talk, not even mention what a "normal" relationship is like" Cain.

Cass (15): *Shoves the three of them under a mistletoe in a holiday Wayne gala (It's Bruce's gala, Clark is working and Diana is a guest)* Now, Kiss.

Tim "My parents each have multiple lovers outside marriage" Drake.

Tim (14): *pulls a power point* ¿Have you ever heard the benefits included in date The Bat? Could be a interesting offer for you both. First of all, money will not be a problem anymore....

Clark *fresh out divorced and forced to confront that he is, in fact, NOT straight and his "brotherly love" for his best friends has nothing of brotherly in it"

Diana: *Remember when Jason used to try to pull this out, so she's a little nostalgic and very amused*

Steph "Actually I have a good basis but my dad is an asshole and monogamy never did nothing for my mother" Brown

Steph (15): So, you're kissing with the boss

Clark: No...

Steph: then you should.

Clark: I...

Steph: ¿Why no? You're a cute couple.

Clark: ¡We're not...!!

Steph: c'mon, just a kiss...

Carrie "My parents are monogamous but I don't know them enough to make an affirmation about it" Kelley.

Carrie (16): So, Boss ¿When are you going to stop your stubbornness and admit that you want to eat their faces?

Bruce: That's very crude and I don't.

Carrie: then you want them to eat your face. Tomate tomato.

[nightwonder7]

GOT THE GREATEST IDEA EVER...

your OCS but they're crossover costumes in idv for Alice and Norton :3

YOU KNOW WHAT

For a while I have been entertained by the thought of which IDV characters would be cast as my OCs if they were a crossover essence or something. Like who would be a skin for who in the game. Sadly none of them fit Norton nor Alice, but these are the ones I've been thinking of:

Emmett Dean Abberoth

I'm thinking Novelist. Emmett is a nervous pharmacist, but he's impeccably dressed and has a notebook, so I can see it fit the most. The alternative could be Professor.

Melanie Vinter

I can see her as Perfumer. She's a shy vampire with a troubled past. I dunno, the in-game abilities just feels right for some reason. Plus, both of them have regrets about the past.

Timothy Daw

I'm not too sure here tbh. Seer? Or maybe Acrobat (even though he'd likely fall apart in that role fhdsjfgs). Timothy is a scarecrow with a sunny disposition who deeply loves his birds.

Wayne Barner

Grave Keeper most definitely! Even though their personalities couldn't clash more gdghjdkg Wayne is my Don't Starve OC. From the working class and good with the shovel.

Jakob Ross Lockhart

For him, First Officer. He's a psychiatrist with questionable methods and dark secrets. Reckless and a bit of a psychopath. Good at reading people. He uses hypnosis on his patients.

Audrey Haupe

I feel like maybe Gardener would suit her. She is Lockhart's maid. Dedicated and down to earth, she keeps her master grounded.

Cyril Iwo Davinski & Angelica Sage Thornwood

I haven't drawn these two in the IDV style yet, so I'm slapping them here together 💀 I'm not very sure who would fit them best either. I can see Angelica as Faro Lady. Maybe even Coordinator or Antiquarian. Cyril I have the hardest time with cause none of them really fit. Closest I can come up with is maybe Embalmer.

I'd love to make more refined drawings of my OCs in the IDV style some day ;<; Thank you for giving me an excuse to yap about this XD

[lovekawaas]

picnic date w/ college boyfr! choso

cw: smut (MDNI), public sex, sub! choso, blowjob, facesetting, 69, unprotected sex, p in v, afab reader

wc: 2k words

spring semester was halfway done. and your boyfriend decided that you deserved a treat for all of the hard work that you had been putting in these past few months.

the weather couldn't have been more perfect, with bright blue skies and the sun's beating rays ever present. a cool breeze blew your sundress up and you tightly grasp the handle of your picnic basket clutching it close to your chest, hoping it'll anchor you so you don't blow away.

choso, just a few steps ahead, finds what he deems to be the perfect spot to set up. with a swift throw, he lays the blanket down right under a tall tree atop a hill giving you guys a mixture of shade and sun. he turns to see you further off in the distance.

"sweetheart do you need any help?"

"i'm right behind you cho!"

and with that, you make your trek up the hill, watching for cracks in the dirt so as not to slip and fall. upon reaching the top, you gazed out at the view of the field. total seclusion. far far away from the whirlwind of univeristy life. no professors, no exams, no term papers. spring was in full bloom and it was beautiful. the wind brushing through the tall grass making it sway back and forth. it's almost like it was moving. like the field was alive.

a soft palm places itself on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. you quickly turn your head to see that it's only choso. he smiles softly at you, his kind eyes causing your cheeks to pull the corners of your lips up as well. a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips.

"i'm so happy to be here with you right now"

and another kiss makes its way to your cheek. your face flushes with heat. he always knows exactly how to make you swoon. and without even trying. that's just choso. his soft gestures and gentle care melts your heart time and time again. however, you know how you can make him swoon harder.

"are you ready to eat?" he asks as his hands head for the basket. but you grab his wrist before he can open it. "sorry cho, but i think that i'm hungry for something else". small hands grasp at the knitted material of his sweater, yanking it towards you to pull him in. you don't kiss him. instead, you lick a long slow stripe against his neck drawing out the sweetest whines from him.

choso is stunned. "y/n..." he quietly exhales. so soft you almost don't even catch it. "y/n, we're in public someone could see us". "there's no one around choso". how could you be so bold? surprising him once by drawing him close with such swiftness. and then again by the touch of your tongue.

he shudders beneath you, turning red in the face and hot all over. but he knows that you're not done with him yet. you're pressing soft lips from the collar of his sweater, working your way up to the top of his neck right beneath his jawline. "and if anyone comes by—

let them watch".

dropping his sweater, choso stumbles back from you dazed from just your lips. nimble fingers intertwining with his, you pull him down onto the blanket with you. basket set aside, you press your palm to his chest feeling his toned body protrude through the layers of his clothes.

pushing him down until his back hits the ground resting gently on the fabric placed earlier. eyes connect to his belt buckle, almost blinding you as it glints in the sun. you reach forward to undo it, unzipping his pants, pulling the waistband of his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free.

"y/n" choso breathes out feeling the cool spring air hit him.

but you don't acknowledge him. instead, you look at the little beads of pre cum dribble down from the tip of his dick. the way the light hits them makes it look almost like pearls. and you can't help but want to get a taste.

tucking your hair behind your ears, you lean forward to suckle the substance off the tip. a little salty but that's okay with you. you tug his boxers further down to have full access. your lips press a soft kiss to the tip. and that's the only notice you give choso before going all in.

cheeks hollowing and teeth hidden behind your lips, you swallow him whole. not even daring to breathe, immediately gagging at the intrusion as he hits the back of your throat. feeling the clenching of your passage he can't help but writhe beneath you. you pull your mouth off of him gasping for air. coughing and sputtering. but it doesn't stop you.

no.

you go back in again. bobbing your head up and down. drooling on his cock like a dog letting any escaped saliva pool down on the exposed skin of his thighs. his whimpers like warm honey, entering your ears moving all the way down to your cunt. thighs clenched together beneath the skirt of your dress. rocking your hips backing and forth on your heels for any sense of friction to aid the throbbing you feel. your cunt clenching around nothing from just his whines.

meanwhile, choso is a mess.

your lips are just so tight. sucking him so well. warm throat engulfing him whole. choso thinks this is it. this is how he dies. with his beautiful girlfriend sucking his dick in a field. or maybe he isn't gonna die. but he's definitely going to cum.

he's thrusting back now surprising you as his tip rams into the back of your throat. "fuck y/n...ngh...i can't....i'm gonna...i'm gonna", but before he can finish his sentence, you remove your lips not wanting to please him just yet.

"y..y..y/n?", choso utters.

wordlessly, you crawl closer to choso's face. you kiss him fervently, passionately, mixing both of your salivas with the salty taste of his cum left in your mouth. you drink up his moans like it's water. breaking from the kiss, you sit back on your haunches. rising up to your knees, you grabs the ends of your skirt and lift it up to your waist letting the breeze wash over your bare skin. his jaw drops.

"no panties y/n?"

and you smirk. he had finally started to piece together your plan. you swing your left leg over his head facing towards his cock and sit down, muffling any protests he might have with your cunt. you rock your hips back and forth hoping to relieve yourself on his mouth. and who would choso be if he didn't help his girlfriend pleasure herself.

his thick arms clamp around your plush thighs to sturdy yourself on his face. his tongue jolts out of his mouth to lap up at your cunt, slurping up all of your slick. you're breathless, eyes rolling back at the sensation. cunt weeping down his chin. you decide now is the perfect time to repay your doting boyfriend.

you lean forward, softly grabbing choso's still hard cock and press your tongue to the bottom of his shaft dragging it all the way to his tip. the almost cries he releases reverberates into your pussy, vibrating, bringing you bliss. you suck him off, pulling him off every few bobs to tap his cockhead against your tongue. fondling his balls, you can feel the throbs and twitches of his penis in your mouth.

he's close.

and so are you.

tears creep up at the corners of your eyes as choso refuses to let up. he laps at your cunt like he had traveled through the desert and just found fresh water. dragging your pussy lips across his face. nibbling at your clit, pinching it the smallest bit with his teeth zapping you with a pain that was just delectable. the two of you chase your highs in each other, choso invetibly beating you to the finish line but you not far behind.

he cums into your mouth. one sharp thrust. and then another. and then another blowing load after load into the back of your mouth until you feel his body go slack beneath you. but choso is no selfish lover. despite you taking all of him, he continues his attack on your clit.

pursing his lips to create a suction, suckling your sweet nub until you crack. and you cum. hard. back arching as all of your muscles tense up. head whipping back as you practically scream. and then you go limp against his thighs, panting as you try to catch your breath.

you roll off of him, flipping around to lay next to him. you turn your head to face him and see the light sheen covering his face dripping down his neck staining the blanket beneath his head. you squirted. right into choso's mouth. and he doesn't even mind. he just looks back you with loopy, pussy drunk eyes and lazily smiles. "y/n, thank you".

and all you can do is smirk back at him because you're not done. you use the remaning bit of your strength to sit up and move to hover over his hips. you take one hand and bunch up your dress. your other moving to align his cock with your hole, giving it a pump or two letting it harden again.

you slam yourself down his cock. the two of you moaning in unison at the intrusion. your pussy already well lubricated from the work his mouth did earlier. his cock well coated from your tongue. the stretch so delicious as he penetrates you.

"fuck y/n...ngh...fuck....its....it's too much!!"

"don't you wanna make me proud? we just got to dessert cho".

you begin to bounce on his dick. thighs quickly growing tired, you start to ride him using all of the power that you can muster up. you roll your hips against him, clit bumping against his pubic bone. moaning uncontrollably letting his penis fill you whole.

one of his hands reach out to grab your waist, guiding you as you rock back and forth. the other reaching for the top of your dress to pop a tit. you audibly gasp at his bold gesture. and once he's pulled it out, he pulls you into him so he can suckle on the breast he's just revealed.

"fuck y/n", he breathes out. "it's too....ah...ahh...fuck...it's too much!"

all you can do is respond with your own moans. the feeling of his tongue swirling around your perky nipple. the way his cock fills you up. you swear you can feel it pounding into your tummy. your eyes rolling back into your head as you breathe through him fucking you.

the new angle of you leaning forward hitting spots that hadn't been reached before. and then, choso bends his knees, planting his feet into the ground to fuck up into you. jackhammering his hips into your hole, hitting the special spot in your pussy over and over and over.

"cho please....ah....please baby...come with me".

and it breaks you both. his hips stuttering as he wails out to you. "FUCK Y/N...AH...FUCK!". his cock twitches, straining to pump out another load into you. and you clench choso's cock as tight as you think you ever have. tightening up so hard until you feel like you can't anymore. your climax hitting you like a train. eyes closed, you fall against his chest, mouth slack as you try to catch your breath. cum seeping slowly out of your pussy.

while his dick begins to soften in you, you feel a large hand brush your dress down to cover your behind. soft lips press a gentle kiss to your head. the two of you lay there. choso's arms coming to wrap around you, gently soothing your muscles as he rubs against your back.

with no words, you both let the sun beat down on you. of course, a soft wind passes through to cool you guys down. catching your breath, you close your eyes and melt into choso. it's perfect. this is the perfect spring day.

[dandelion-wings]

Re-reading current WIPs leads to re-reading old stuff no longer in progress, which lead me today to the old stuff from @theabysscomeshome and I's Harbinger AU. And it occurred to me that, while I doubt I'm ever fixing up or finishing the outdated stuff enough to ever put this on AO3 at this point, I could go ahead and post the one complete piece from it that's not completely jossed, and that I still like, here. >>

For reference, the Harbinger AU is essentially a Venti-Tsarita roleswap (with a side of Jean-Childe roleswap but that doesn't show up at all in here), wherein the Knights of Favonius essentially fill the Fatui's role.

---

The great tower in front of them is in disrepair, shattered and half-broken, but the cubical mechanism for opening the door still works once the hilichurls out front have been cleared away. As the great door grinds open, tilted sideways at an awkward angle, a cheerful voice rings out from behind them both.

"Oh, it's Sir Diluc!"

Diluc spins around, his hand dropping to the hilt of his claymore. Lumine, noting his narrowed eyes and tight jaw, follows suit. In front of them both is a young woman, or older girl, in a leather traveling outfit with bright red accents that stand out against the swirling snow--including a headband that looks like nothing so much as a pair of rabbit ears. She pulls up the goggles that had been over her eyes and grins at them.

"Hello! I haven't met you before. Who are you?"

"Outrider," Diluc says, his tone guarded, though he doesn't yet draw his claymore. "You're a long way from Mondstadt."

"So are you! It's so nice to meet you here. I haven't seen you in ages." The girl skips forward as if she hasn't noticed Diluc's tension or the hand tightening further around his claymore's hilt. "Sir Kaeya and Master Jean will be so glad to know you're all right!"

"*Don't*," Diluc growls.

Those names Lumine recognizes. "Diluc, who is this?"

"Outrider Amber of the Knights of Favonius. Which makes her very far from her operational area."

"Oh, that's expanded a little bit since you left, Sir Diluc." She veers away from him to bound smiling over to Lumine. "I still haven't gotten your name."

"My name is Lumine," she says, fighting the urge to reach for the hand that Amber holds out to her. The girl's cheerful friendliness is at sharp odds with how tensely Diluc watches her. Also, if she's more recently from Mondstadt... Lumine has to ask. "Have you met a boy who looks like me on your travels from Mondstadt? I'm looking for my brother."

Amber looks her up and down, then shakes her head, an apologetic look on her face. "No, I'm sorry, I haven't. But I can put up some posters for you once I get back! Uh... if you can tell me a place to contact you...."

"Don't bother," Diluc says.

"I don't have any way for you to contact me, since I'm on the road. But I appreciate the offer." Lumine looks over at Diluc, trying to judge if it's *really* necessary to keep her hand on her sword. "I thought the Knights of Favonius were dangerous? But Amber's willing to put up posters, even if there's no point."

"It's not her I'm worried about. It's who might come behind her. Is that Lawrence woman in Snezhnaya too?"

"Don't call her that! At least call her Sir Eula!" Amber stamps a foot and glares at him. "And I can't tell you her movements, but she's not with me. I'm here because Sir Kaeya's too much of a layabout to do his own intelligence missions."

"Hey, should you be telling us that?" Paimon asks. She's drifted forward over Lumine's shoulder, her curiosity drawing her in.

"You're with Sir Diluc, so it's fine. He's a little grumpy, but he's not a bad guy."

Diluc sighs and straightens up, finally releasing his claymore. "She wouldn't tell us if she thought we could interfere with it. Which means she won't tell us the details, either."

"Nope!" Amber beams at him. "I'm so lucky I saw you guys in the snow. Your hair really stands out, Sir Diluc, and you always wear that black coat, so I thought it must be you. Even though it's not part of the mission, Sir Kaeya will be glad to know you're still going strong. And that you made a friend."

"Hmmph." Diluc crosses his arms over his chest. "And I'm sure it will help him track my movements."

"Duh! He worries about you, you know." She looks past them at the open door to the tower, then turns to Lumine. "If you're going in there, do you want some help? I have the time, and I wouldn't mind getting out of the cold for a while. Snezhnaya is *freezing*. Besides, I can tell Sir Diluc all about how Master Jean and Sir Kaeya are doing."

Lumine glances over at Sir Diluc. He looks a little annoyed, but not alarmed, and he doesn't try to refuse for her. This is her mission, given by the Tsaritsa, even if he's been helping her on it. And she would like to learn a little more about these Knights of Favonius from someone who doesn't have so obvious a grudge. It seems somehow appropriate to do so in pursuit of an Anemoculus.

"All right," Lumine says. "You can help."

As Lumine turns back towards the gaping black shadow of the doorway, she hears Amber cheer behind her. "Awesome! I can't wait to show you Baron Bunny."

***

Baron Bunny is a giant plush, it turns out. It explodes, which is a bit unexpected, but after the brief surprise of it in the first fight Lumine quickly gets used to it. Amber isn't nearly as strong a fighter as Diluc, though she also has a Pyro Vision, but just the presence of her flaring heat in battle seems to make the Melt effect that Lumine has gotten used to setting up with Diluc more effective. Overall, she's a much better party member than Diluc's reaction had led Lumine to expect.

A quarter of the way up the tower, they run into what seems to be a dead end. Lumine stands at the bottom of a cavernous space, made more so by the lingering edges of floors and walls that have crumbled away above. Even if she stands on the highest of the broken pillars, the next partially-intact floor is dozens of feet over her head. There's a lift mechanism in the corner, but it lies dormant and still.

"Those torches," Diluc says, holding his flaming claymore high to light the space. "That sort are usually connected to the mechanisms in these ruins. If I can reach them, I can light them and see what they'll do. It's getting there that's the problem."

Lumine looks around and sees what he means. The tilting and crumbling of the tower have put most of them in nearly-unaccessible spots. That one he might be able to reach by jumping off this pillar if she jumps far enough, and if he can squeeze through that rubble there one is half-buried behind it... but the ones higher on the walls will be harder to reach. Her Cryo constructs melt so quickly under Diluc's feet. The two that, due to the tilt of the tower, are practically on the ceiling? She has no idea about those.

"Oh, is that all? Leave it to me," Amber chirps from the base of the pillar. Lumine crouches down and watches her unsling her bow. She takes careful aim at each of the torches, the ends of her arrows bursting into flame, and lights each of them with one shot, even the half-buried one that Lumine wouldn't have thought she could reach.

"Thank you," Lumine says, smiling at her, as the lift jerks to life and begins to slowly grind its way up the wall. "We couldn't have done that without you."

"Glad to help." Amber assures her, dashing up the slant of the wall towards the lift. "Last one up is a rotten egg!"

Lumine jumps off the pillar to hit the wall right behind her. As she scrambles up onto the lift she sees Diluc uncross his arms, brace himself, and leap to follow.

***

They make it most of the rest of the way up before they reach another such space, this one with great crumbled gaps in the outer walls as well. No lift or torches are apparent this time. The cold winds from outside the tower rip through the sides of the tower, leaving piled-up drifts of snow behind. Lumine, Diluc, and Amber crouch in the lowest corner, Paimon floating low and using Lumine as a windbreak.

"Those are blowing harder than I'd have thought from looking outside," Diluc says. "There must be Anemo energy leaking down from above."

"I bet we could get up there using those winds," Amber says, eyeing the roaring flurries overhead in speculation.

"With the winds?" Lumine asks.

"Yeah, using our wind gliders!" Amber reaches back and pats the narrow wood-and-metal box on her back that Lumine had thought was some kind of travel case. "Sir Diluc, haven't you shown Lumine how to glide yet?"

"We haven't been in a large enough town to find one for sale. Or to get mine repaired," he says expressionlessly.

"What, your wind glider is broken? Let me take a look at it," Amber begs, reaching out towards him like she wants to grab for something. "I bet I can fix it. And I have a spare with me I could lend to Lumine, so we can show her how to glide! You know there won't be a better way up."

Diluc stares at her for a moment more, calculating, then reaches into his travel pack and pulls out another such case and holds it out. Amber snatches it from him with a squeal of excitement. "The left wing won't extend fully," he tells her as she flips it over and starts undoing catches on the back.

"Oh, that's because your pivot gears are bent. This will take me a few minutes, so maybe we should sit down and rest while I fix it? I haven't eaten in ages."

"A lunch break sounds like a *great* idea!" Paimon seconds enthusiastically. "Lumine, do you have more of that cabbage-potato borscht?"

"No, I'm all out," Lumine says regretfully to Paimon. Her stomach rumbles at the memory of the delicious soup. "Diluc, what about you?"

"I have potatoes."

"Nothing else?"

"Potatoes are a complete meal on their own."

"Not without butter and cream," Amber protests, looking up from the articulating wing made of metal joins and wooden feathers that she's stretched out over her knees. "I did some hunting earlier, and I still have plenty of meat, plus some cheese. You could make a pile-'em-up! You were always really good at that one."

"Oh!" Paimon comes zooming up to hover level with Diluc's face, bobbing in the air in front of him. "Juicy meat and melty cheese and potatoes! That sounds perfect to Paimon!"

Diluc bats irritably at Paimon until she drifts further away. "It won't be the same without lamp grass for seasoning."

"True," Amber says. "I guess I could make my signature Outrider's champion steak when I'm done fixing your wind glider."

"...I'll make a pile-'em-up without the lamp grass."

***

The Hydro Abyss Mage, shell frozen by Lumine's Cryo and melted into nothingness by Diluc's phoenix and Amber's arrows, tumbles squealing to the floor. Diluc lunges forward and drops down on top of it, pinning it beneath his knees, one hand on its shoulder, the other holding his claymore across its throat.

"The key to the pillar," he snaps at it. "How do we get it open?"

"Like I'm going to tell you," the Abyss Mage chitters, its voice high and cracking and full of vicious glee. "You'll never get through- aaah! That hurts!"

Diluc lets the flame die. "Tell us, or it's going to hurt a lot more."

"Favonians who can't even figure out the order of the elemental monuments on your own- aaah! Ow! Okay! The first, third and fifth have to be lit at the same time, while the other two are left alone, or they all go out! Aaaaah, I'm not lying!"

With a jerk of his claymore, Diluc slices through the Abyss Mage's neck, and it dissolves into powdery black smoke. Then he rises and turns to study the elemental monuments arranged around the pillar in which the Anemoculus is said to be encased. The way they're set, she can tell his phoenix can't hit all three at once without lighting the two in between.

"You could get those two," Lumine suggests, pointing to the two on the end. The curving way the monuments have been arranged in front of the pillar means that there's a straight line between them that wouldn't touch the others. "And Amber can shoot the third at the same time."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Amber pulls an arrow from her bow and sets it to the string, looking at Lumine with a smile. "Just give me a signal."

"Fine," Diluc says shortly, and walks to where he needs to stand to line up the phoenix. He, too, looks at Lumine for a signal.

Lumine takes a couple of steps back, just in case, and raises a hand. "Fire!" she calls, snapping it down.

Amber's arrow flies and flashes, the phoenix blazes forward, and the three monuments light up, Pyro sigils shining above them as veins of elemental energy run glowing down them like lava down a volcano's side. There's a click from the pillar, then a grinding of stone, and a portion of the front slides away. The Anemoculus--a blue-green orb framed with irregular, feathery wing-like protrusions, with a more stylized wing-like symbol shining from within the orb--rotates slowly within. She can feel the Anemo energy radiating off of it, generating a cool breeze that flows through the room.

Slowly, entranced by the beauty of the elemental object, Lumine starts forward. She reaches a hand out towards it as she passes the monument that Amber had lit.

But Amber is faster. She dashes forward and thrusts her hand into the pillar, snatching the Anemoculus from its prison. As she turns about, Lumine unthinkingly reaches towards her, expecting to be handed it. Amber just pulls her goggles down and bounces backwards, using the tilt of the floor to speed her movement.

"Sorry, Lumine. I wish I didn't have to do this, you seem really nice. But Sir Kaeya says Master Jean needs these, and even if he's too lazy to get them himself, I can't let you have one. I really hope I didn't mess things up for you too much. Good luck finding your brother! Sir Diluc, I'll tell everyone you said hi!"

As Diluc lunges for her, face twisted in fury, hands outstretched, she flings herself through the arching, open window behind her and into the freezing winds below. Amber twists about in the air, clutching the Anemoculus to her chest with one hand and pulling the string on her wind glider with the other. Wings snap out behind her and she catches the wind, soaring away and down with expert speed.

"After her!" Lumine shouts at Diluc, charging towards the same window, reaching for the release of the glider Amber had told her to keep as she goes. She can hear his feet on the floor behind her. Paimon, wailing in alarm, grabs Lumine's arm and clutches on tight as they launch.

The winds battering at her out here are entirely different from those they'd flown on in the tower. While they aren't as strong, they also aren't nearly as directed. With only her minimal experience, Lumine can't manage to steer herself after Amber, who is dwindling into a spiraling red-brown dot in the distance. Diluc has more experience with wind gliders, but he seems to be having just as much trouble--no, more, one wing, the supposedly fixed wing, stiff and unmoving even when the other one flexes. He's caught by a particularly strong buffet and tumbles as something in the unmoving wing, unable to flex, instead snaps.

With Amber already out of reach, Lumine turns and dives as best she can after Diluc instead. He doesn't fall at deadly speed, but it's still a good clip, and he hits the ground below with a crash sufficient to throw up snow in a blinding cloud all around. Lumine wipes it from her eyes as she lands, then wades through the waist-deep drifts until she finds Diluc fumbling out of them, snow turning to water wherever he's touched and then freezing right back into ice.

All around them, the wind is still swirling, carrying even more snow than before. Lumine looks up at the slate-grey sky that's all she's ever seen in Snezhnaya, searching for a darker blotch. "I think a blizzard may be coming on...."

"It's no blizzard." Finally making it to his feet and dusting off the worst of his snow from his clothes and hair, Diluc reaches again for his claymore as he peers out into the blinding flurries all around. This time he draws it, holding it in front of him, a thin line of flame dancing along the blade. "It's worse."

"What's worse?" Paimon asks, slowly letting go of Lumine's arm and floating up to peer over her shoulder.

Out of the white wall of snow, a figure appears, striding confidently towards them. A tall woman, clad in black and white with a blue cape swirling behind. Lumine is shivering in this even deeper chill, but she seems entirely untroubled. She's carrying a claymore that looks like it's been carved out of ice, held high and ready to swing, the flat resting on her shoulder.

"Diluc Ragnvindr," she says, staring haughtily at Diluc. Somehow the tilt of her chin makes it seem like she's looking down at him, even though he's the same height or taller. "How annoying."

"Sir Eula?" Lumine guesses, glancing at Diluc and then back at her.

"Yes. Sir Eula Lawrence, Captain of the Reconnaissance Company, and Fourth Harbinger of the Knights of Favonius, to be precise." She turns that disdainful look on Lumine. "Amber tells me you're... *nice*... so I will not take vengeance on this traitor here and now, in circumstances where you may get in the way. But if you threaten Amber or our mission, I will not hesitate to turn my blade upon you."

Lumine tenses, reaching for her sword, but Diluc reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. It's warm on Lumine's bare skin even through his still-wet glove. "This isn't the place to fight her," he says, low-voiced, frustration audible through his gritted teeth. "Report back to the Tsaritsa, and we'll work out our plan from there."

"Wise of you," Eula says. She stands there, claymore on her shoulder, not moving an inch, as she watches them walk away.

[writemeverything]

I still haven't figured out when I'll play for him

I don't know if my drawings are decent enough, but I want to draw more and perhaps make some stickers.

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[bitedownme]

I am updating sketch status to official WIP, I am gonna die

[gem-tavvy]

damn

[earl-grey-crow]

✨pond theories✨