#I wonder if it his presence would have affect the visions

[meduseld]

Between him choosing the cake to her tastes, and the birthday latte, and always catching her when she has visions, I am upset that Tyler wasn’t present at Wednesday’s crypt based bday party. He should have been there, if only to catch her. I’m guessing the only reason he wasn’t was it was Nevermore kids BUT Thing planned it and Thing shipped them to the point of hooking them up at the Rave’n so...... likely really the combo of Enid and Xavier jealousy.

[mischieveousmayhem]

Hi! I've been following your writing for a bit now, and I really like your style of writing. There's a sort of flow to it. Anyways, I was wondering if you could write a Bruce Wayne x Batmom! Reader. Where Damian clings to Batmom a lot and it's so obvious he loves her more than he loves Bruce. So Batmom overhears Bruce paying Damian like a large amount of money to not interrupt their date? I think this would be really cute, and it's okay if you can't write it. And thank you so much in advance! <3

Bribes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warnings: Characters may be out of character, reader is shorter than Bruce Wayne, jealousy

Synopsis: Will Bruce ever get a moment with you?

It happens a lot, almost too often. Every moment Bruce thinks he has alone with you , he doesn't.

The first time was when Damian started getting comfortable with you.

You and Bruce were in your bedroom, limbs entangled, just enjoying each other's presence in the dark, cold room. The only warmth was your bodies and the blankets.

Bruce was enjoying this, he was enjoying you. You guys had all boys, and oh lord were they mama's boys who needed you for all simple. Thank god he didn't have to worry about Damian turning into one like his brothers. At least Bruce thought.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away." Bruce's voice booms.

You move from the position you and Bruce were in and you sit up.

"You can come in, Damian." You say.

It was quite obvious it was Damian, your boys all knocked on the door differently. Damians seemed more hesitant.

Damian walked in coming to your side of the bed. Bruce stares blankly , and confused on how the hell you knew it was Damian.

"Y/N , I had a nightmare can I sleep here?"

"N—" Bruce started.

"I was asking Y/N. Not you." Damian cuts him off. He sure was Bruces child.

"Of course, love." You smiled as the boy climbed in between you and a grumpy Bruce.

—

Another time it happened was when you and Bruce had a Gala to go to but the boys were gonna stay home.

However, he couldn't find you anywhere in sight to be found. Until he walked into the living room to find you and Damian cuddled under a blanket.

Damian leaned back on you with you rubbing his hair until he spots his father and he immediately jumps up acting like his mother wasn't just giving him affection he craved.

"Y/N, why aren't you dressed. We have that Gala tonight." Bruce raised a brow at you as he stood in front of you in his tuxedo that he looked EXTREMELY handsome in.

You give him a nervous smile, "Well about that," You raised up a thermometer, "Damian is feeling a bit under the weather so I will stay here with him while you attend."

Damian did a fake cough while smirking at his father. His face out of your vision you couldn't see the smirk.

Bruce squinted at Damian. He wasn't going to rat out his son to you because at least Damian warmed up to you and even then you wouldn't believe Bruce.

—

The last straw was when Bruce found Damian taking his favorite thing to do with you.

Every evening you would sit in the garden. It was labeled your bench because the boys always saw you out there on it no matter the weather.

One of your quiet places, you just sit out and read, crochet or some other peaceful activity until Bruce comes out. You two watch the sunsets every evening together and it was just a romantic, wholesome moment.

That is why when Bruce came outside to the garden to see Damian in his mother's arms he almost lost it.

Bruce wanted to be in your arms and Damian should not be there at all.

"Room for one more?" Bruce speaks.

This time Damian doesn't move out of your arms for his father has seen him like this multiple times and he just doesn't want his brothers to spot him being babied in his mother's arms.

"Sorry dear, there is only enough room for two people on this bench. You can come tomorrow." You look back and smile almost guilty.

Unfortunately tomorrow never came, because everyday Damian would beat Bruce to your arms on the bench.

—

All those events lead up to now. Bruce sitting Damian down to have a talk before you and Bruce went out for a date that Bruce has been looking forward to.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time with Y/N." Bruce spoke to Damian.

"Ummi and I are just having normal mother-son time." Damian speaks.

Bruce furrows his eyebrows, "Yeah..whatever."

"Great! Conversation ended." Damian was about to get up till Bruce stopped him.

"You are not to sabotage this date." Bruce says.

"I'm not going to sabotage it but I am starting to feel a little sick." Damian smirked.

"Do not fake sick, I will pay you a million dolla—" Bruce was about to give Damian a bribe until he heard your laughter from the doorway and his face dropped.

"You two are really something." You place your hands on your hips after you stop laughing.

The two just stare at you waiting for you go finish what you are going to say.

"Damian, if your sick Dick will be here to take care of you in a little but until then you have Alfred." She walks towards him and brings her hand to his cheek, cupping it, "I spend a lot of time with you Dami, it is time I give your father some attention."

Damian melts into your touch, nodding. You were right, he had been spending a lot of time with you.

You then turn to Bruce, "As for you, you shouldn't have to bribe your son to not "sabotage" , our dates." You roll your eyes.

"I know, but we haven't had much time together lately." Bruce comes towards you.

When he's in-front of you, you look up while grabbing his forearms.

"I know, that's why tonight it will only just be us. I promise." Your eyes glimmer as you speak those words to him.

He was about to lean down to kiss you till Damian gets up and runs out the room yelling, "GET A ROOM!!"

[cross-crye]

𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰

summary: twst & hsr charas with different soulmate au prompts that i think would fit them

incl: azul ashengrotto, idia shroud, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, aventurine, blade, jing yuan, sunday

wc: 0.9k

a/n: after an absolutely horrific year i'm finally back to writing!! got half a lifetime's worth of lore in what is essentially 2/3 of a school year lol. but hey at least i got some new lore, so what better way to celebrate that then writing abt my fave au?

monochrome vision

Even the most powerful of beings weren't immune to the effects of the passage of time. After spending such a longevous existence in solitude, enduring loss after loss at every step of the way, he becomes resigned to the notion of forever living in a grey-scale world. Perhaps he wasn’t meant for such luxuries. Perhaps he was one of the unlucky few who was condemned to a live barren of companionship and deeper meaning. He could only wonder in the late hours of the night, or in the lonely moments trapped within his own mind while sitting at his desk: ‘Just what sins have I committed in a past life in order to earn this karma?’ Imagine his surprise upon upon realising that perhaps he wasn’t fated for eternal despair and desolation, and that perhaps, he himself had a chance to experience true joy. As colours bloomed in front of his eyes for the first time in his life, one so long others would struggle to count it, all he could think was that perhaps it had truly all been worth it as he gazed at you, forever ingraining the details of your visage deep inside his memory, to be forever treasured as the face of his saviour.

lilia vanrogue; jing yuan

matching tattoos

Wearing long sleeves, covering up despite the less than optimal weather for such attire, developing and maintaining a preference for the indoors as soon as the temperatures start to rise; anything to keep that damned mark hidden away. If nobody sees it, it doesn’t exist. If nobody can spot it and remark a similarity, then its not there. As long as he can keep hiding the mark, he can keep denying the existence of his soulmate. To bear a curse such as his is an already horrific fate, he couldn’t allow himself burden anyone else with it. It was like a plague, it would only continue to spread and affect others, drag them down to the depths of despair; and for what? He couldn’t let his feeble desire for companionship be the reason somebody else lost their humanity. Yet when he found himself doubting his philosophy after bandaging your cut shoulder blades (curtsy of having fallen into a thorny thicket on your earlier walk that he begrudgingly joined you on) Spotting the familiar mark on you was something he hadn’t ever expected. His companion and dear friend had been his soulmate all along, a shocking revelation which had caused him to impulsively lift his own sleeves and point to the matching pair.

blade, idia shroud

interacting within dreams

That’s what you were to him, a dream. Something he could only long for and yearn with the entirety of his soul yet fail to reach every time he tried. Despite not having even see your face due to the dream’s magic, your presence was deeply ingrained in his heart. He had envisioned you so many times, imagined what you’d look like, wondering if you’d look as beautiful as you sounded. You would overtake every waking moment, for his dreams were no longer enough, he would daydream about you, and play your voice in his mind on loop, all he desired was to suffocate in your presence and truly surround him in a way his dreams of you never could. He memorised everything about you, from what you mentioned to eat for breakfast to your aspirations and moral philosophy. If simply thinking of you hard enough would have brought you to life, you would have been born anew countless times. He could only live on in a prison of longing of his own making, every moment increasing his desperation to finally meet you and escape his mediocre existence. His obsession ran so deep he could perfectly render your voice in his head and hear you talk to him of thinks you hadn’t yet said. He thought he’d finally driven himself mad with yearning, hearing your voice while awake even when he hadn’t been the one to picture it, only to turn to see you for the first time, the image of perfection that even he couldn’t have dreamt, finally complete.

malleus draconia, sunday

countdown until first meeting

The little wristwatch was what kept him going, seeing the numbers go down was his motivation to go on, giving himself a purpose despite his lack of one in others’ eyes. Knowing that out there there was somebody who could truly understand him, who could see his worth and achievements in light of his struggle. Early on he had been victim of the critique and ridicule, but the hope of one person’s existence in contrary to this fuelled him to keep going. To strive to be better, to do something better with the unfortunate cards he was dealt. What worth other’s pinned on him no longer mattered, and as long as the ever-changing numbers on his wrist would continue to decrease he’d continue to prove the world wrong about their initial perception of him. All his life’s work amounted to this, the fateful meeting with who was supposed to be his one true love. As he continued down the winding streets of the town he could only anxiously stare at his wrist, taking note of the handful of hours left. His distracted state however, lead to him making the wrong turn and the counter adjust itself, not even letting him take in the shock of seeing that it had now only read a couple of seconds as he immediately collided into somebody, gripping the stranger’s shoulders to maintain his stability. Neither of you processed the beeping sound of your timers as you gazed in each other eye’s awestruck at finally meeting your soulmate.

aventurine, azul ashengrotto

cross-crye © 2024.

no reposting, stealing, copying, translating my works or feeding them to AI

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Could We Not?

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 1 to Not Another Time ]

<< Request >> "Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where she’s like apart of the band and she gets hit in the head with a hard object while she’s on stage and Harry is super freaked out? That would be a sanity saver!" - @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Summary: Harry Styles is used to having things thrown at him on stage. Recently, it's been Skittles, which affected his vision. But when his band members are affected, he can't stay silent. Especially when it's YN who takes the hit.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! YN replaces Laura in the band, just in general, only because she plays the trumpet and I still included Parris.

Warnings: Some explicit language, wound with blood, angry Harry

He can't escape it. It has carried on from his days in One Direction, and it seems to have become a permanent, unavoidable occurrence that things are thrown at him on stage.

Most are harmless, such as boas, sunglasses, or little plush toys that he is always inclined to keep.

However, there have been a few occasions where the objects were a bit more troublesome. Phones are a big one, which internally annoys the hell out of him at this point.

The most recent culprit, and the most shocking, was a handful of Skittles, one which hit him directly in his left eye. If there is a silver lining of that moment, it's that he only had to get through performing 'Kiwi' before he was able to run backstage and immediately have it taken care of.

He tries not to show anger on stage when things like that happen. He loves his fans. He always wants to treat them with kindness, acceptance, and gratitude. So he doesn't draw much attention to it. There has only been one occasion or two where he has subtly asked for some fans to stop throwing things.

Tonight, however, might be his tipping point.

Harry has brushed off the frustration from the rock hard candy incident, because tonight is a new night and a new show.

There is also the new trumpet player, YN. Well, she isn't new per say, she's been there since the tour came back to North America, but she is the newest member of the band, and the one Harry has become extremely fond of.

She fits in perfectly with the rest of the group. She is so kind, so joyful, and everyone seems to be energized just by her presence. Including Harry. Especially Harry. The moment she walked into the trial rehearsal, he felt an electricity course through his veins that he's never felt before. He shook it off as a mere, and mild, physical attraction. Then she started to play, and he was taken into a trance by her talent and passion. Then she spoke, and he felt his heart flutter more than ever.

He knows he has a crush, one that he can't talk about or act on, but it doesn't stop the forming of a grin when the horn players walk up onto the stage. It doesn't stop the goosebumps he feels when they all begin to play, being able to pick out the sound of her specific instrument. It doesn't stop the thought that those songs, the ones where they get to be there together, may just be his favorite ones to perform.

So when 'Satellite' ends, and after a good chat with the crowd, reading their signs, the four horn players make their way up the stairs as 'Cinema' begins, causing his heart to flutter and his current smile to stretch out into a wide grin.

When they play an extended introduction for 'Music For A Sushi Restaurant', he takes the opportunity to get some water and give her a quick smile, hoping that he actually does see a blush form on her cheeks, even behind her trumpet.

He stays on the outside of the stage for that song, but gets even more excited when the band begins to play 'Treat People With Kindness'. This means YN will move to one of the outside corners, which also means he'll get to be closer to her as he moves around during the song.

He makes sure to pass by her any chance he gets, but tries hard not to make his intentions too obvious, to the crowd or to YN. She's a part of his band, and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, even if she does appear to reciprocate any smile or slightly flirtatious comment he makes. He wants any move made to be on YN's terms. However, that won't stop him from taking this opportunity to share a little dance with her.

"Wait for it… wait for it… wait for it. One, two, three, four!"

As the crowd shouts out the chorus, Harry stations himself next to her, moving his hips side to side, causing her to pull back from her instrument and let out the most amazing laugh.

He's going to do that every time from now on, just so he can hear that again.

That song ends, and she moves into the center with the rest of the horn players, walking through to the other side of the stage as they start their intro for 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

He moves back to the mic stand in front of the walkway, trying to catch glimpses of her every so often, as she stands near the corner to his left.

"I don't know why you're being shy, and turn away when I look into your eyes."

He takes a few steps to his left, pointing his arms out to the fans and encouraging them to sing the bridge.

At that moment, something whizzes over in his direction and lands by his feet. He takes a quick look down, and then to his left, noticing that YN has moved a few feet over to the other side of the stage. He sees Mitch taking a couple of glances over to her as well, mouthing something, but she nods and continues to play.

As the final chorus nears, the four horn players move back to the center of the stage to play the last parts of the song.

He grabs his mic from the stand and engages the crowd, instantly requesting that they applaud for the horn players. He watches as YN gives a wave to the crowd, confused as to why she isn't doing it as vibrant as normal. She could just be tired, though she usually pushes through it, but it's been an intense leg of the tour in Los Angeles.

The time between that and 'Late Night Talking', while Parris plays his beautiful solo, is usually one of his favorite moments, because he has a little bit more time to interact with her on stage. Even if it's only a quick comment or joke, he loves it and takes what he can get. But as he moves closer to grab his water bottle, he sees her talking to Pauli, who swiftly hands her a spare face cloth that he keeps by him.

Harry immediately frowns and quickens his pace over to her.

"What's wrong?"

She wipes herself off and shakes her head, keeping her gaze downward. He can't remember a time where she wasn't happy and bright. But now she looks embarrassed, and sad, which pains him to see.

"Some… something hit me."

"What? Where? How?" He blurts out, not even fully able to process what she is explaining had occurred.

"A fan threw something. I don't know what it was." She sighs, flickering her gaze up to him with a troubling expression across her face.

"Shit. Are you alright?" He steps closer to her, unintentionally placing his hand on the middle of her back, and he feels her shiver under his touch. He removes it, his eyes fixated on her, and he feels some relief when he sees a small smile appear on her face.

"I'll be okay." She assures him. Her trumpet lifts up to her lips, the ones he has wondered what they would feel like against his, and he realizes that Parris has finished his part. "Let's get on with it."

He bites his lower lip as she gives him a wink, and feels a blush form on his own cheeks. If she knew what she does to him, she probably wouldn't be doing that. But he'll take it.

He sings through the second chorus on the closest walkway, still giddy at the fact that he can pick out her trumpet from the others, and he just knows she is swaying back and forth to the lyrics as she always does.

However, he turns around to make his way back, pointing his mic back out to the crowd, and when he sees YN again, she is holding her fingers against the spot over her left eyebrow.

Instantly his chest tightens and he bounces back over there as the song ends. She makes her way back to the center with the others while he takes a quick gulp of water, turning around when they begin to play 'Watermelon Sugar'.

"I'm bleeding." He hears her state to Parris.

"Okay. Go." Parris replies, and Harry follows after her.

"YN." He tries to shout without causing too much of a fuss, but she steps down the stairs, and he clenches his jaw as he watches her make her way backstage.

This isn't good, and he really hopes he can get through this song now.

"Alright, if… if you know this one, please… please do sing along." He stumbles through his words, his eyes still glaring over to the spot where YN exited.

Performing this one isn't as fun this time, though the crowd are probably none the wiser, as he keeps his professionalism as intact as possible. But it is different. She's usually on the walkway in front of him, dancing away as she plays, causing his heart to flutter each time she moves.

He either closes his eyes or moves around the stage a bit, hoping to momentarily distract himself from her, and stay focused on the music. At least to get through the song.

And thankfully he does.

As soon as it ends, the rest of the horn players make their way off the stage, and Harry immediately rushes over to his little setup in front of Pauli.

"Start playing, but I want to talk with the crowd for a moment." He states into the band mic, for only the crew to hear.

They softly play the melody of 'Love of My Life' and he raises his hand as if to signal that he has something to say.

"Thank you Los Angeles, so much, for all of your support. I, more than anyone, know that I couldn't do this without all of you. I hope you have had a great time." The crowd cheers, and stomps, and he responds with some kisses blown around the venue. Then his expression becomes a bit more solemn and he turns back to the mic. "I want to say that my number one priority for everyone here tonight has been safety. That includes everyone on stage as well."

The crowd immediately hushes, which usually doesn't happen without his lead, and it shocks him. But hopefully it means they'll hear his message.

"I always encourage you to dance, sing, and interact. I always suggest that you treat everyone with kindness. And now, I also ask that you please think about these amazing people on stage, and refrain from throwing things that could potentially hurt someone. One of our members was hurt during a song tonight and unfortunately had to leave." He pulls back, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. "We want to be able to keep doing this with you for as long as possible, so we all need to make sure that safety is our top priority. So let's keep it safe and have some more fun. How does that sound, Los Angeles?"

He holds two thumbs up to the fans, swiveling around while everyone begins to cheer again, and walks over to his mic for the next song. The last one before their little break, and before their encore. He'll be done soon.

He knows his energy has diminished a bit, which is fine for 'Love of My Life', because his mind is back on YN. He desperately wants to know if she is okay. Needs to know, at this point.

During the break before their encore, Harry rushed underneath and pleaded with the crew to find out what had happened to YN, and whether she's being taken care of. They assured him that she is fine, but he couldn't get rid of his worry.

He put on his best entertainer persona for the last three songs, feeding off the excitement of the crowd to get him through until the end.

But once 'Kiwi' was finished, he blew kisses to the fans and sprinted backstage, immediately feeling frantic.

"Jeff-"

"H, man, you doing okay?" His manager asks, concern all over his face.

"Where is YN?" Harry quickly asks, not even bothering to answer about himself.

"Huh?"

"Where's YN? She got hit by something. She had to get off stage. Where'd she go?" He asks, feeling frazzled like he never has before.

"Oh. Uh, I haven't seen her, maybe-"

Harry strides off, not really knowing which direction to head, but willing to walk all over the place to find her.

He sees another familiar face, feeling some hope that she'll have an answer.

"Lorren, where's YN?" He asks, hoping his tone is a bit more calm than it was with Jeff, but knowing he could be failing.

"She's in the common room." Lorren replies, a small smirk forming suddenly. "She's okay, Harry."

His eyes grow wide and he stands up straighter, more stable, more casual. Or at least trying to.

"Yeah. Of course. I just… wanted to check in with her." He utters, but her intrigued, raised eyebrow tells him that she doesn't accept his answer.

"Harry…" She chuckles. "I know you care about her more than that…"

"What? No-... I mean…" He sighs, running a ringed hand through his sweaty hair. "Shit."

Lorren laughs again and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Your secret is safe with me."

He nods and feels a hot burn flooding his cheeks, not even attempting to hide it since she clearly knows she's right.

"Does she fee-" He begins, immediately stopping as he sees her pull her lips inward. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter. I'm just… gonna check on her."

Lorren nods and smiles, squeezing his shoulder then pointing down the hallway.

"Good luck…" She teases as she walks away.

"What?"

"Nothing." She replies, already opening the door to another room.

He takes a deep breath and turns back around to the direction he needs to go, his steps faster the closer he gets to the room she is occupying.

He opens the door without hesitation, instantly seeing YN sitting on the sofa with an ice pack held on her face, and her phone in the other hand.

He clears his throat as he takes a few steps towards her, slower than they were in the hallway, and his heart pounds faster than it just had been.

"Hello." He utters, not wanting to startle her. She shoots her gaze up to him and he feels butterflies as she immediately smiles. She may have looked different on stage after the incident, but he is happy to see that her bright demeanor seems to have returned. His concern begins to melt away.

"Hi." She responds, putting her phone down, along with the ice pack. She winces as she does, and as he moves to the sofa, he finally sees the large gash on her forehead.

His heart sinks, and he is thankful for the close proximity to the furniture, because his knees almost give out completely as he takes a seat next to her, on the opposite side of where her cut is.

"Fuck, YN, are you alright?" He inquires, his gaze flickering between her gorgeous, sparkling eyes and her anger-inducing wound. His jaw instantly clenches and his palms ball into fists. He can't believe this happened, especially to her. His gaze drops, and he begins to fill with guilt. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."

Suddenly, he feels the warmth and soft touch of her hand on his, causing the tension in his palms to release right away.

"It's not your fault, H. And I'm okay."

He looks up to her again, being met with the gaze he tries hard not to get lost in, but fails every time he's close enough to see it.

"I just…" He sighs and shakes his head, not entirely sure what he wants to express, and worried it could be more than he should. "I just want to… know that you're alright."

"That's sweet." She utters, a tenderness in her tone. He smiles at the irony of her attempt to calm him, when it should be the other way around. "I am. I am alright."

A squeeze of YN's hand grabs his gaze once again, and he just sits in silence as he, once again, gets lost in her eyes.

His hand unintentionally reaches up, gently resting under her chin as he turns her head to view her wound, sighing once more at the sight of it. His thumb reaches up, gliding over her skin, right under the cut, and a tingle rushes over him.

A strong exhale leaves her mouth and he turns her head back to him, his eyes tracing the lines of her lips. He looks back to her gaze, his breath hitching at her beauty, and his body acts on his feelings as he leans in, gently pressing his lips against her own.

She lets out a small sigh, which snaps him back to reality, and he pulls back.

"Shit. I'm… fuck, I'm sorry." His hand drops and he scoots his body further away from her, feeling every ounce of embarrassment possible. He didn't want to make the first move, if there was even one to be made. What if she didn't want it? What if she hated it? "Fuck."

"Please, don't…" She clears her throat, a sudden timidness in her tone. "Please don't be sorry."

Harry's heart begins to race, and he glances up to see her smile. However, a knock on the half-closed door causes both their heads to turn that way, and they both sit up straighter.

"I finally found a bandaid." A venue staff member states, handing it to YN and walking out.

She begins to open it up, removing the strips and exposing the sticky sides, then looks around the room for a mirror.

"Here." Harry reaches out, grazing her hand, and regaining her attention. "Let me."

She hands him the bandage, and he scoots closer again, their thighs barely touching, but just enough for his stomach to fill with butterflies.

He gently places the band-aid over her cut, gliding his thumb over the corners to make sure they stay secured. His gaze drops down, and his breath hitches as he sees her gazing up to him through her lashes.

His palm slides down and rests on her cheek, and she tilts her head upwards, their lips hovering in front of each other.

"Thank you." She whispers, her own hand placing itself on top of his.

Harry attempts to swallow down the lump stuck in his throat, but is interrupted by the sudden soft pressure against his lips. He lets out a quiet whimper, and her hand moves around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. His mouth begins to move with hers, and the tip of his tongue teases the gap between her lips.

She suddenly pulls away, and a frown forms on his face, until her gaze flickers to the door and he hears the chatter in the hallway that must have caused her to stop.

He pushes back, only out of caution and respect for both of their privacy, and grins when he sees her blush.

"You know, I've had recent experience with eye injuries."

"Right. You have." She giggles.

"If you want… you don't have to… but if you want to, you… you could come to my suite." He clears his throat. "To hang out. And I can keep an eye on that injury for you."

"No pun intended." She laughs, and his grin, surprisingly, grows wider. She's still so bright, and he's already down bad.

"I…" She begins, another blush instantly taking over her delicate skin. "I wouldn't mind seeing you looking at me a little more tonight."

"Oh my god." He breaths out, swiftly throwing his palms over his face.

He feels her fingers wrap around his wrist and removes his hands to find her standing in front of him. She tugs on his arm, and he lifts himself off the chair.

"Then maybe I'll get the chance to do the same." She states, biting her lower lip before letting him go and moving around the room to grab her stuff.

Yeah. He's definitely down bad, and despite her being injured, this just may end up being the best show by far.

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If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you

[thefrogdalorian]

Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count:  3.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love. 

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet. 

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you. 

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain. 

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood. 

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line. 

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him. 

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope. 

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led. 

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar. 

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man. 

Yet, somehow, he has found you. 

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner. 

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro. 

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness. 

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress. 

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him. 

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar. 

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness. 

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son. 

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness. 

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact. 

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering. 

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this. 

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps. 

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare. 

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination. 

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness. 

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is. 

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment. 

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions. 

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour. 

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love. 

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand. 

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this. 

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

[dark-and-kawaii]

Unexpecected Care

Raphael x GN!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary:

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: A gift for @russica <3 Thank you so much for the little goober art! Hope you enjoy this xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Soft Raphael | Bathing With The Cambion | Tender | Comfort

During evenings like these, Raphael frequently experienced a deep desire for your contact, a sentiment he consistently kept silent, wary of the potential exposure of his innermost feelings. He felt a sense of unease at the thought of being so vulnerable. However, fate has a peculiar sense of humor.

When he entered his boudoir, he was greeted by a vision that evoked a strange sensation within his soul. There you were, positioned at the center of the room, draped in dirt and with blood smeared across your visage.

You sighed, exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and in this moment, all you sought was the presence of the devil you had grown so accustomed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this unorthodox intrusion, adorned as you are in such a... Feral state?”

He stepped closer, his gaze swept over your unkept appearance, and for a fleeting moment a crease of genuine concern furrowed his brow as he observed a droplet of blood trail down from your cheek. His voice, momentarily stripped of its affected grandeur, carried a note of unusual sincerity, “What befell you, my little mouse.”

The trace of worry in the devil's eyes, Raphael's concern, prompted a gentle smile to bloom across your face.

“No need to fret, my devil,” you murmured, your arms lifting up as a way to show you’re fine, “It's not my blood. Your little mouse is perfectly fine.” 

He extended his hand, invitingly, “Come,” he urged in a gentle command that you found yourself unable to resist. As your hand slipped into his, the unexpected gentleness of his grasp contrasted sharply with the usual firmness you had come to associate with him.

He led you to his healing bath, a haven designed for restoration and peace. His voice, low and soothing, issued another instruction, “Turn,” to which you complied without hesitation.

As he carefully began to peel away your soiled clothing, his expression soured upon discovering that not all the blood was foreign. The sight of the small lacerations on your arm seemed to disturb the poise he typically showcased.

His touch became delicate as his fingers traced the minor wounds, eliciting a flinch from you. It was then, in the quiet of his boudoir, that his eyes softened with a glimmer of compassion. 

With you now settled into the warm embrace of his healing bath, Raphael took position behind you. He reached for a cloth and, with a tenderness that would have surprised any onlooker familiar with his usual demeanor, he began to tend to your injuries, dabbing at them with the care of someone who found themselves unexpectedly concerned for another's wellbeing. As if he was your lover of many years.

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on your bare form, a sight that seemed to please him and provide a sense of satisfaction that his opulent surroundings alone could not, for once.

You allowed yourself to lean back slightly, your body easing into the expanse of his chest. Your eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the care and attention he lavished upon you. Raphael's touch, once expected to be harsh and demanding, was now tender and healing. 

The warmth of the water, combined with the softness of his ministrations, coaxed your muscles to relax, and you found solace in this unexpected sanctuary. It was strange, but you could feel it. Could feel how you both were letting the walls you both often held so high to crumble in the solace of this intimate moment.

Raphael's hands, usually instruments of assertive command, now traced your sides with a different intent. His lips brushed a small wound on your shoulder, prompting your lips to part in silent wonder. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as he indulged in the need to feel your skin against his.

His voice, a soft baritone, resonated in the quietude of the chamber. “I must admit, there is a certain... allure in this closeness,” he whispered, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, “The sensation of your skin, warm and real against mine… it's a luxury even I could not have anticipated desiring.”

You could feel his chest rise and fall with a measured rhythm, a silent echo of his controlled exterior giving way to his human instincts wishing for touch and connection.

“Raphael…” you called out, a whisper. You couldn’t see his face, yet you could tell, you could feel how his lips curled up into a genuine smile as he heard his name slip from your lips, a rarity from this proud devil.

His fingers gently tilted your head, turning it towards him. When his lips met yours, the kiss was soft and sweet. 

The kiss, tender and lingering, had broken only for you to turn into his embrace fully, your head finding his shoulder. Your body, weary yet content, melded into his as if you were two seamless pieces of a long forgotten puzzle. 

[leahrintarou]

🎃 AKAASHI KEIJI - BREEDING

Warnings: they're in love lol, breeding kink, akaashi wants a baby, usage of the pet name "sweetheart & pretty", unprotected sex, he finishes inside bc duh, soft akaashi, fingering, fem reader, afab reader.

Word Count: 3.2k

"Something came up so you're going to spend the day with n/n and keiji, okay?" Bokuto said to the small girl, standing at the door of y/n and akaashi's shared home. She nodded as he gave her a quick peck to her forehead before standing up from his crouching position. She flashed her father a quick grin, running off into the cozy home, not sparing neither bokuto, akaashi, or y/n another glance. "call me if you need anything." bokuto said, voice in a hurry as he began to take quicksteps backwards, waving off his two best friends.

"of course!" y/n raised her voice a bit due to their furthering distance. the grey haired figure entered his car and as soon as he drove out of their driveway, y/n closed the door, locking it before pivoting on her heels to face her one and only akaashi keiji. "where'd she go?" y/n questioned, smile faltering as she looked over his shoulder and into the living room and the small child wasn’t in her field of vision.

Akaashi let out a chuckle when y/n's eyes filled with worry. She hurriedly ran into the living room to scope out the area more efficiently and there she was, hiding under the coffee table as she watched the tv in which displayed her favorite show. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes in content as she placed a palm over her fast pacing heart. A yelp soon followed after when akaashi's voice fanned over the shell of y/n's ear. "it's funny seeing that you already have motherly instincts, yet you aren't even one yourself."

"not yet at least.." His voice trailed when he walked away to take a seat on the nearby sofa. "yet?" y/n quirked an eyebrow, finding her own seat on the floor as bokuto's daughter emerged from her confined hiding spot. When y/n didn't hear an audible answer from her husband, she took a glance up at him and was met with a small smile from his features. it wasn’t his intention (most of the time at least) but, akaashi's smiles will always let him get his way.

It always has and y/n despised it. She fell for it each time and whether akaashi knew what wonders it worked for himself or not, he couldn’t help but keep the expression when after many denying and no's, y/n would give in. Right now was one of those incidents and to prevent her vulnerability, she looked away and decided to indulge in the little girl's activity of building with the container of legos that were stored underneath the coffee table.

It was a limited addition set that akaashi had gotten from his work a while back and the two had yet to build it, so y/n took this as her chance to switch her focus onto something else. Anything at all.

"keiji, you come help too!" The girl said with a cheerful tone. He gave her a small smiled, standing from the couch to take a seat in front of the two. "you need my help?" He exaggerated, placing a palm over his chest to present his true appreciation. "mhm! The more help I get, the easier It'll be to complete". She handed y/n a few lego pieces, a small frown her lips as she couldn't figure out the correct way to put them together. Akaashi admired how gentle y/n was with her.

Down to her actions and voice, she had the most careful motives as if the girl were a snowflake and y/n was a flame who's heat could melt her within a second. With her kindness however, the flame cooled and as y/n held the girls hands within her own to aid her in piecing two legos together. akaashi was snapped out of his daze from their shared laugh. "good job, sweetheart.". With a pout, she looked away embarrassed from the attention and affection.

A future came to akaashi's head, blinding his field of vision with its presence of y/n and their own child. He thought it was impossible to be even more happy with the thought of y/n in his future, but when the thought of another member of their family came to mind, it was all he could think of. y/n carrying their little creation and raising he or she with as much love as they could endure. It was a new dream of his and for some reason, he wanted it more than anything else.

"keiji! Stop spacing out, you need to get to work!" She groaned, handing him a few pieces form the set. Akaashi glanced at y/n who was already looking at him with a smile on her lips and he felt his heartrate skyrocket just a bit as well has the fluttering sensation in his gut.

"sorry, sorry. I'll get to work your highness" he laughed, giving a gentle flick against the girls forehead. "you better" with furrowed eyebrows, she got back to her own work while akaashi and y/n chuckled at the sight before them.

----------

"thank you guy's so much, I'm in your debt!" Bokuto smiled as he waved off the two, his daughter walking by his side and to his car. y/n closed the door around, letting out a sigh as she snaked her arms around akaashi's waist. "kids are really tiring, keiji." she yawned into his chest as she pulled him closer. "let's go rest up for the night then". He placed a chaste kiss to her forehead as they sluggishly made their way upstairs and into their bedroom.

y/n got into bed and after discarding his hoodie and sweatpants, akaashi soon followed in. "do you alwaysss have to sleep half nude?" y/n laughed, poking at his chest as she turned her body to face him. "It's comfier. You should try it sometime" he teased, reaching up to hold her fidgeting hand. "in your dreams" she scoffed, forcing back a yawn when she rubbed the fatigue from her eyes.

"hey, last time I checked, most of my dreams always come true" akaashi looked into y/n's eyes as she sat up to shift her positioning. He admired everything about her but was a bit caught off-guard when she straddled his waist, hovering her face over his own before pressing a kiss to his lips. "and what dreams are those?" Her voice was soft and akaashi remembered the memory of earlier that day. "like the one where I finally confessed to you on our graduation day," he started.

"oh and the one where I proposed to you and you said yes."

He noticed how y/n's breath hitched and he couldn’t help but smile. "funny how we both had the same dreams." she laughed, turning her head to lay against akaashi's bare chest. "mhm" his hand made its way under her t-shirt as he found comfort in caressing the soft skin of her back. "I also have one more dream that I hope we share the wished off too."

Y/n hummed against his chest, curiosity enveloping her frame when she heard the beats of his heart begin to quicken. "I want us to start a family" he finally said. y/n's breath hitched again and she raised her head to see if her husband was joking or not. When he saw the serious look on his face that was mixed with anticipation for her reply, suddenly everything felt so real.

"are you sure, keiji?" She questioned, voice still soft. Akaashi blinked a few times when he didn’t hear an immediate 'no'. Was y/n actually contemplating this idea of his? "of course I am. I feel like it’s the right time. I got a promotion at my job recently and your business has been going great. We finally have a home too. If push comes to shove, we can always convert that spare room into a nursery if-"

y/n leaned down to place a firm and long lasting kiss against his lips, abruptly stopping his rambling. He tend to do that when he was nervous or excited and right now, y/n could tell that he was both. "do you think I could be a good mother?" Akaashi was expecting anything but that from her, causing him to freeze up. None the less, he quickly recovered, forcing himself to speak.

"of course you can, sweetheart."

He thought the answer was obvious from the start so when y/n's eyes widened from his words, he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "you don’t believe me, do you?" He asked, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. There was a small pout on her lips and akaashi leaned up to place his lips against her own once again. Y/n leaned into the action of affection and so did akaashi. There was no possible way that they could physically be any closer, yet they still tried. Pressing their bodies against one another as their mouths spoke words without a voice.

Akaashi pulled away with a pant, chest heavying with his next words. "I'll prove it to you if you don't believe me. How does that sound?" He asked. When y/n smiled with a nod, akaashi was filled with every possible feeling of joy. He pulled her back into a kiss, this time their tongues making contact with the other, tasting the aftermath of their shared promise of their newly planned future. y/n let out a small moan as akaashi's hips lifted to meet with her heated core.

His rush of emotion wasn't containable at this point so when he felt himself growing hard underneath y/n's body, he knew that from this point on, he had a goal and he would achieve that goal on this very night. Reaching a hand into y/n's bottoms, she flinched at the feeling of the cold pads of his digits against her sensitive bud. A whimper reverberated in her throat before a moan followed after and fell onto akaashi's lips as he applied pressure to the area.

she drew in a sharp breath when each lap of circular motions brought an intensifying level of pleasure to course through her body. "k-keiji, fuck-" she choked out, pulling away from the kiss and burying her face in the crook of akaashi's neck instead. "relax, sweetheart. There's no rush tonight." he reassured, urging her to lift her head. She did so with a bit of commitment and when they caught each other's gaze, either of their hearts felt as if it skipped a few beats.

Akaashi held eye contact with y/n as he reached down further into her bottoms, fingers now gently placed at her entrance. Slowly inserting two of his digits y/n let out a moan, breath fanning against akaashi's cheek when her entire body shivered at once. "good job, sweetheart." He smiled gently. "just like that." y/n was practically welcoming him in as his fingers slipped past her entrance with such ease. Akaashi twitched within his briefs and he let out a shaky breath when y/n began to grind down against his palm, trying to get some kind of friction against her bud.

"want more of you, keiji."

Akaashi knew what she was getting at whether she said it or not since now, she leaned down for his lips once more. He didn’t even get a chance to catch his breath before she'd already latched her lips onto his own. It was as if the air in each other's lungs were their only source of oxygen in which they relied on to keep breathing. With a muffled groan, akaashi gently bit y/n's bottom lip, breaking away their kiss for a small second as he took in a breath of air.

"cum for me and you can get what you really want, okay?"

y/n eagerly nodded, pressing herself against akaashi's palm as she moaned from the friction against her bud. His digits were long and reached places that made y/n feel like she was on cloud nine. He sped up the motions of his hand as y/n whimpered next to his ear. Letting out small phrases of encouragement, akaashi finally began to feel the ache settling in his growing erection. "m close, keiji" she warned, sighing when he hummed. Y/n felt the vibration of his chest against her own as her coil finally snapped.

She clenched around his digits as his fingers slowed in motion and so did her hips. She panted relentlessly and akaashi decided to give her a bit of time to recollect herself. Using both of her arms to place her palms firmly against akasshi's chest. She lifted herself up as he slid his hand out from her bottoms. y/n made quick movements of her own to remove his restraining briefs and akaashi wasted no excessive time to grasp his own member, using y/n's arousal to coat the entirety of himself.

He let out a soft moan, eye's drooping as he looked up at y/ns' features in which was admiring his current actions as he pumped himself within a tight fist. "take these off. They're gonna get in the way." he used his freehand, hooking the waistband of her bottoms before it returned to its position with a 'snap'. y/n lifted herself from his lap, desire fueling her to move as efficiently as possible. "hey-" She frowned when akaashi continued to let out streams of moans from the pleasured contact engulfing his member.

He noticed this, reluctantly letting go of himself and placing his hands on either sides of her hips instead as she straddled him. "okay, okay. You make me feel good then." He smiled. "wanna feel you inside me" she mumbled, reaching for his member with a brittle touch. "all of you and everything".

"seems like you've been wanting me to put a baby in you for a while now, sweetheart."

"please, keiji."

"anything for you, pretty." Gently lifting her hips, akaashi aided y/n as the tip of his member prodded at her entrance before she slowly allowed herself to slide down the entirety of his length. The both of them let out a moan in unison as their pleasure finally skyrocketed. akaashi held a firm grip on her waist to hold y/n in place since he knew that if he or she were to move right now, he'd probably come undone in a matter of a milliseconds. he noticed how y/n's nails left crescent shaped indentions along the area of his chest and when her body mindlessly clenched down around his member, she let out a whine.

he drew in a hissed breath before urging y/n that she could move. letting out a sigh, she slowly lift her hips before allowing them to drop once again. akashi tried to hold back a drawn out moan, a whimper coming out instead. it was insane to him how even after years of being together with y/n, he had yet to become 'used' to her body. the way she would take every part of him whether it was he who wanted it or she herself. he figured that y/n knew this too since every time she'd ask for anything, he's always jump to his feet (or knees) in seconds just to pleasure her however she wished.

her moans continued to grow and it sounded like music to his ears. he forced himself to hold back his own noises of pleasure, careful to not drown out the ones of y/n's. he wanted to hear her. despite her riding him, just her sounds alone took a big part of him feeling pleasure. "you're always so good for me" he said through a whisper as y/n leaned down to place affectionate and sloppy kisses against his neck. hues of purples rose to the surface of his ivory skin as y/n continued with her lustful actions.

in her current position, she felt all the more needier to use Keiji's body for any sort of pleasure that she could get, causing her to slightly grind herself down against his lower abdomen, eager to get some kind of attention to her bud. akaashi couldn't hold back a moan when his member reached a deeper depth withing her core. he could crumble to pieces right there and then if he didn't focus. "feel good, pretty?" he questioned through a pant. she moaned a small "mhm" against his neck and he tapped at the small of her back so she'd lift her head to face him.

in all honesty, akaashi just wanted to see her face and admire every unique detail of her features, but when he was met with a small whine from her feeble becoming state, his eyebrows contorted in worry. "what's wrong?" he asked as her hips slowed against him. she let out a whine at the lost pleasure and akaashi put two and two together. "shh. it's okay, sweetheart. i got you," he smiled, making swift movements to turn y/n onto her back as he now hovered over her. "I'll take care of the rest and you just lay here and relax, okay?"

she nodded, lower body jerking up to meet with akaashi's fast pacing hips. he used his free hand to wrap underneath her lower back, pulling her up a bit closer to himself while his other hand began to toy with her now sensitive bud. she was needy and lust coursed through her veins as if it were blood itself. she was almost embarrassed by the sound of her arousal coating akaashi's member as he moved in and out of her core. his hand quickened against her bud as her eye's pricked with tears from pleasure.

maybe it was their exhaustion, maybe it was their current position, or maybe it was their motive, but y/n and akaashi felt as if this moment was the peak of their beings. y/n let out a strained moan and akaashi knew her well enough to notice that she was finally approaching her end. clenching down on akaashi to feel every detail of him, she called his name with a broken voice and he understood the breathless warning.

she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer against her body as her near was finally approaching. akaashi placed a kiss to her parted lips as she finally allowed herself to come undone. the way she clenched down on akaashi in fragments of seconds caused him to also approach his high. he called her name with a groan as it also drifted to a quiet whisper. he finally let go and released into the warmth of y/n's sex and she moaned from the sensation. akaashi felt a feeling of accomplishment as he hovered above y/n, not daring to move when he knew that he wanted to keep every drop of his arousal within her.

he eased himself to lay on his side before pulling y/n closer to his chest. she let out a small whimper after feeling him twitch inside of her already sensitive sex. "wanna stay like this for a little." he said quietly, placing a kiss to her temple and then another to her forehead. y/n looked up at him before a smile etched onto her lips.

"do you think we're doing the right thing?"

"anything that involves you will always be right, sweetheart."

i got carried away while writing, BUT I LOVE THIS MAN LMAO

i hope you enjoyed reading this, though. Notes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

[angellayercake]

Distilled Liquor

Raphael x female tav

Warnings: body shots, nudity, teasing

You forget whose idea it was to celebrate your birthday here at Sharess's Caress of all places but once the drinks had started flowing, paying a visit to your favourite devil had seemed a grand idea. 

'He rented a room upstairs in the hopes that you would drop by,' Korilla had said when you had run into her and hadn't that little seed of information taken root in your mind. You had already been to see him, just about business of course, but finding yourself back here again you couldn't stop your mind wondering. Before you knew it you were outside his rented door. You stared into your own eyes as you hesitated, the plaque was polished to a mirror shine. There was enough alcohol flowing through you that you are struggling to focus your vision but without it you would not have been there. The warm mead and rich wine lending you the liquid courage needed to confront the disarmingly attractive devil you knew was waiting inside.

Your hand was poised to knock on the door but it swung open before you had the chance and he was there leaning against the door frame, perfectly posed to affect his indifferent amusement at your presence and yet you know it is an act. You would tease him but as you slowly blink at him in surprise you find yourself speechless. His thick doublet is gone leaving him in only his mostly undone undershirt and you can't stop your eyes from raking over his exposed chest. 

'I thought I heard a little mouse dithering at my door,' he said but you could hear the smug smirk in his voice even as your eyes were occupied elsewhere. 'And what has brought you here I wonder? I hope you are not here to attempt to renegotiate. I've already been much too generous with you I fear.' Your mind slowly catches up with the currently one-sided conversation and you manage to drag your eyes from where his golden brown body hair disappears underneath those few inches of buttoned shirt.

'It's my birthday,' you blurt out, regretting it immediately as he arches one of his perfect brows in surprise or mirth you can't quite tell. He regards you for a moment too long with his sultry half lidded gaze, his amber eyes burning like a hastily downed shot of whiskey. You shouldn't have come up here it was a terrible idea and you need to come up with something quickly. 

'We are drinking downstairs. Wine. If you wanted to join. For my birthday,' You want to bang your head against the door frame, but manage to refrain to save whatever face you might have left. He looks genuinely surprised for a moment, not quite quick enough to school his expression. But as quickly as you notice it passes returning to his usual smug indifference. 

'I would, of course, but I prefer liquor to wine I'm afraid,' he steps back from the doorway and as the alcohol had brought you high enough to even risk extending this offer it brings you falling rapidly down at his rejection. You take a deep breath as you try to school yourself, accept it gracefully and make your escape when he continues. 'And I prefer it served in a quivering belly button, distilled in fear,' he pauses, ensuring he has your full attention. 'and arousal.' You swallow thickly trying to wrestle your wayward feelings under control after the whiplash they had just received. Because this, well it sounds very much like a proposition. 

'Not really appropriate for a public tavern, even in an establishment such as this.' He continues, sauntering deeper into the room leaving you poised at the threshold, unsure of your welcome. The room feels vast as you wait impatiently for him to make his point.  

'However I happen to have a bottle of whiskey here just waiting to be drunk and if a willing vessel was to present themselves to me? I might find myself of a mind to indulge.' He gestures to the bottle on his desk, leaning back against it. He crosses his arms and watches you as his carefully chosen words sink in. With an aborted step you cross the threshold and you can almost see the fire ignite in his eyes, though his expression stays neutral. He steps aside as you approach, gesturing to the almost empty desk where you perch awkwardly waiting for him to make his move. With a click of his fingers your clothes are gone and you shiver slightly at your sudden nudity even as the firelight paints your skin with its glow. His gaze feels like a caress as he takes all of you in and despite your self consciousness you begin to almost preen under his attentions. He doesn't touch you though, not yet. Picking up the bottle he uncorks it slowly, his large hands easing the cork from the neck before coming closer and holding the bottle to your chest.

'Sit up for me slightly, yes that's it,' he directs as you settle back on to your elbows creating a perfect reservoir for the liquor to collect at the end of the journey down your torso leaving a sticky trail in its wake. His eyes lock with yours as he leans over you to enjoy his drink. Your muscles start to shake as you try to hold perfectly still and you can't hide the gasp when his mouth finally touches you. His lips seal over your navel sucking the amber liquid before chasing the errant drops that slide down your waist. His eyes slide closed as a moan of pleasure rumbles through his chest and you hope it was inspired more by the taste of your skin than the whiskey. 

He pours another shot this time holding your gaze as he chases the rivulets between the valley of your breasts and over your twitching stomach until he can lap at his prize. Your laboured breathing had spilled more drops than the first pour which he carefully collects, dispensing with the pretence of licking up the liquid and instead trailing wet open mouthed kisses across your skin. You feel almost feverish as you watch him move closer and closer to where you truly crave his touch but he stops short leaving you gasping in frustration from your anticipated pleasure. Though you shouldn't be surprised he wants to drag this out as long as possible. 

He had spoken of wanting to hear you beg and while you had managed to secure his help without stooping to such measures you have no doubt that he would have you begging for something before the night was over. Another moan slips out of him as he sucks the last drops from your belly button before standing. His long fingers trail the edge of the desk until he is directly behind you, smoothing up your arms until they rest gently on your shoulders. 

'When you have seen a thousand, birthdays really mean very little.' His voice makes you squirm as you feel his breath ghosting against your ear. 'But you mortals do love your trifles.' Turning your head you find yourself nose to nose with him, close enough to taste his whiskey warmed breath. The tension feels crushing as you wait for him to close the distance between you. You let your eyes drop closed, unable to look at him as you wait.

'Many happy returns little mouse,' he whispers against your lips but without coming any closer he snaps his fingers and you are clothed once more. You blink in confusion as your body begins to adjust to the sudden shift in tension and then he is seated by the fire once more reviewing scrolls like you had never knocked on his door.

'Your friends will be missing you. Best not keep them waiting.' It's a clear dismissal and leaves your head spinning. Arousal swirls in your stomach alongside the drink as you dizzily stumble to the door. Pausing as you reach the handle you turn back to look at him and catch him watching you. 

'You know where to find me, little mouse.' He speaks low, his deep voice barely carrying across the room. 'Whether you wanted to share another drink,' he pauses, not allowing you to escape the suspense even now. 'Or something a little more, titillating.' As you catch his meaning you can't control the shiver of anticopation that runs through you. He was playing a game with you but he was helping you decide your next move and you weren't going to waste it. With a brief nod of acknowledgement you slip out of the door, closing it softly behind you. Next time.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I discovered your blog a little bit ago (back when your requests were off) and got super excited when I saw that you wanted a Sam Winchester request!

So I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader is insecure about her stretch marks, but Sam reassures her and shows her that he has stretch marks too from growing so quickly and much when he was a kid going from tiny to giant in like a snap. Reader is obsessed with them now that she’s seen them (and wants to lick them ;)) snd there’s so much appreciation on both sides. Thank you so much!

Love your writing!

.⋆｡Natural Matching Tattoos｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

You never liked your body but you love Sam and he adores every part of you so maybe you should let him show you just how incredible you are

Warnings: self deprecation, fat phobic thoughts, stretch marks, fear of rejection, fluff, implied smut, reassurance 

WC: 997

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Hunting was apparently not a great form of exercise, you thought as you stood in front of your full length mirror dressed in nothing besides a bra that should’ve been thrown out years ago and your laundry day underwear. With a critical eye, you glared at the overhang of your stomach, the seam between your thighs where there should have been a gap but especially the shimmery skin stretched too far along your body. 

You tilted your head as you traced those lines with the tips of your fingers. How many things had you tried to get rid of them? How many years have you spent avoiding mirrors just because of this? You sighed dejectedly, your entire body sagging with the weight of your hate. You were exhausted with it, it ate away at you until there was only a speck of the love you once had for the body you inhabited. 

“Princess, have you seen my- oh.” Light from the hallway streamed into your room, casting a new light upon yourself which you immediately turned away from, and instead met the deep hazel eyes of your barely official boyfriend. Sam filled the doorway, his presence overwhelming.

“Sam.” You could barely breathe out his name with the massive weight of shame sitting on your chest. You felt his gaze burning into your skin as he took in every inch of your mostly naked body. Your vision wavered as tears began to build.

Yet he said nothing. “I-“ But no more words would come. This was what you feared most, that he would finally realise that he could do so much better than you, that you could never compare to Jess or Eileen or even Ruby. As you braced yourself for heartbreak, Sam stepped closer, lost in a trance.

Your arms curled around your stomach and you looked away, squeezing your eyes shut. Your fingers brushed the tell-tale smoothness of some of your stretch marks and suddenly you wanted to scream. Why couldn’t you just be fucking normal, you wanted to shout at yourself, why couldn’t you just lose the weight before he saw you naked for the first time. You expected to hear him insult you or say that you had a pretty face for someone so big, but then, just like he always managed to, Sam surprised you.

Far softer than you could ever imagine a man like him to be capable of, Sam cupped your forearms, prying them away from your body and leaving you vulnerable to him. You whimpered under your breath. There was a moment of quiet where all you could hear was his heavy breathing and your own pounding heartbeat and then-

“Gorgeous.” 

His large hands hovered over your hips like he was handling a piece of precious artwork. The calloused tips of his fingers grazed the fat along your pelvis in reverence. “I always thought you were beautiful, but now, I can’t believe that you’re real.” 

“Sam-“ Part of you wanted to stop him, to push away his affections but the way he cradled you and looked at you with those big hazel puppy dog eyes, you didn’t think you had the strength to stop him. He gave you that stupid grin of his that showed off his dimples and made his entire body light up. “But my stretch marks.” You managed to stammer out as some sort of last ditch effort to get him to realise the truth.

Finally he laid his hands on your skin and your mouth snapped shut. His thumbs brushed against said stretch marks, leaving behind a warm, buzzing sensation that you could feel in your bones. “What about them?” He murmured but you could tell that he was already lost in the texture of your skin.

“They’re ugly.” You admitted like it was some shameful secret. Sam froze for a moment and gazed deeply into your eyes. 

“You really think that?” You nodded. Your skin was cold where he let go of your hips, it made you wish that you had just kept your mouth shut and let him love those parts of you that you hated. 

You jolted forward to try and grab at his hands but they were already pulling at the buttons of his flannel with a determined look on his face. You gave an embarrassed squeak as suddenly, Sam was topless in front of you, his perfectly sculpted torso so achingly close to your hands. “Then you must think mine are ugly too then.”

In the soft light of your bedside lamp, you could see the silvery lines that trailed up his slim hips, starkly contrasted against his tanned skin. They were almost identical to your own and they were beautiful, like silver threads that had been placed upon him like jewels. You couldn’t help but reach out to them, desperate to feel them beneath your hands.

Sam chuckled deeply in his chest but did not try to stop you as you laid your palms flat against his toned stomach. “How?” Was all you could manage to say besides something else incredibly impolite about your boyfriend’s body.

“I’m 6’4 princess, and Dean will absolutely attest to the fact that I grew over a foot in one summer. I was bound to get some stretch marks.” You hummed, now understanding why Sam had been so distracted by your own body moments before. “Still think stretch marks are ugly?”

You shook your head without hesitation and he beamed. “’S like we have matching tattoos.”

A soft kiss was pressed to your temple as he once more wrapped you in his arms to hold you close. “That’s my girl.” You sank into his embrace, content and warm. The weight of your insecurities was slightly lessened with someone you so dearly loved taking some of the burden and you couldn’t be happier about it. Well, there was one thing.

“Can I lick ‘em?” Sam’s laugh reverberated through the room.

“Only if I can lick yours.”

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[yannights]

Hi, I love your Wriothesley work!I was wondering what would happen if reader tried to hurt Wriothesley during an outburst? Would he be mad or brush it of?

Thank you for the request!!! I love it so much that I think a serves as a great prequel for my "Depth " series, so I wrote a little story around it, and I hope it answers your question

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

Wriothesley is not a brute, he is not completely delusional either. He is fully aware of how his actions affect you and he knows that you hate him for it. So he allows you keep the dignity you desire, he lets you sleep on the floor, he leaves you to bath alone. However nothing stops him from loving you. Your presence is all he needs from you. He is what can be can considered as a 'chill dude' if you get mad at him, he will mostly like try to brush it off if notihing is at stake. For instance if you demand to go out, he will most likely refuse since he doesn't trust the other inmate's around to not pull a stunt with you.

The more time passes, the more he craves more from you. Your approval, your love. Everything he wants is within your grasp, so he will indulge it from time to time. He will demand hugs, or a kiss, and despite your rejection, he enjoys and cherishes these moments. So, as the days pass, the tantrums will start to get irritating, despite his composure, he will start to feel angry at you for not advancing your relationship as he pleases, and if things escalate to a braking point, he will take action.

------

As Wriothesley sat at his desk, the weight of his responsibilities pressed down upon him, each signature on the papers before him a reminder of the endless demands of his position as the duke. Despite the tranquility of the day, the constant stream of complaints and regulations left him feeling drained and weary.

You, on the other hand, sat on the couch nearby, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of his duties. With a cup of vanilla tea in hand, which Wriothesley had prepared it especially for you, a small gesture of 'kindness' amidst the hustle and bustle of the day. As you sipped the fragrant tea, its soothing warmth washed over you, providing a momentary respite from the stresses of your position. As you took another sip of the vanilla tea, a sudden vision flashed before your eyes. You found yourself sitting in a café, savoring the same tea as the sun set in the distance. The memory of that simpler time lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the life you once knew before returning to Wriothesley's office.

This reality boiled you with pure rage, you aggressively put the cup down onto the table. As Wriothesley observed your sudden outburst, a faint smirk played across his lips, though he made no overt comment. The silence only fueled the fire of your rage, simmering beneath the surface as you struggled to contain it. Wriothesley on the other hand wanted to see how far your limits would go, so he decided he would partake in a little game.

"Well, well," he began, his voice dripping with mock concern, "it seems our little tea break has taken a rather dramatic turn, hasn't it?" His taunting tone only served to stoke the flames of your anger, the heat of it pulsating through every fiber of your being.

Without a word, you snatched another cup from the tray and hurled it in his direction with all the force you could muster. But Wriothesley was quick to react, dodging the projectile by leaning to his left. A visible unpleased looked appeared on his face. Exhausted and annoyed by your actions, Wriothesley slowly stood up from his desk, and looked down at you with a stone cold expression, intensifying his icy gaze from his frozen coloured eyes. With furrowed eyebrows, Wriothesley could no longer hide the pain arising from your attitude, and had finally decided he would have proper discussion about your childish behaviour.

"My, my," he chuckled though the anger in his eyes unmistakable, "someone's feeling rather spirited today, aren't they? "

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

Author:

So yeah, for me, he would probably try and talk to you first. Unlike a lot of fanfics, I don't think he resort to violence with darling, maybe intimidation. Like I said he's a chill guy, he would either brush it off or just results to a non-lethal way of showing that what you are doing isn't good. But everyone has a limit, right. So if you do manage to make him angry which is rare he would probably try and talk it out and then find another solution if it's not working.

Hope you enjoyed~~~~

[maries-gallery]

Day 3 of @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 's visions of temptation event! And my first contribution to kinktober <3

genre: nsfw, mdni

character: Licht Klein

wc: 2,5k

warnings: angry/jealous sex, dirty talk, manhandling, marking/biting, dacryphilia, overstimulation, creampie, breading, female bodied reader

prompts: angry sex, "It can wait, I want you now."

mdni banner by the lovely @/saradika

For more content like this, check the masterlist <3

“So I told them-”

Licht nods, features set in their usual neutral impartiality as he listens to the nobleman in front of him; or rather, tries to. For concentrating on anything the man has to say proves to be excruciatingly difficult when his mind constantly strays over to you, crimson eyes aching to search the maze of guests for your form. 

The two of you had been invited to a ball at the duke's mansion, who was known through all of Rhodolite for his garish festivities and exceptional qualities as a host, and indeed, his reputation held true to reality. 

The glittering crystals of a chandelier catch the light and shower the room in shadows of gold. Long tables line the ornate walls, piled high with all kinds of delicacies and flowing with rose wine. And an orchestra sits at the back of the room, playing a merry tune as couples dance in the spotlights in a concerto of steps and a blur of coloured silks. 

Guests had taken their best attire out of their closet for the occasion, glittering rivers of diamonds, bright coloured dresses and ties, new polished shoes and intricate hair ornaments. 

Yet, nothing in the room earns Licht’s fancy, who desperately yearns to be back at your side, to hold your hand and bathe in your comforting presence. 

The ballroom is vast and crowded with luxuries, as well as the members of Rhodolite's high society. Even so, Licht knows it would take but an instant for him to find you, a tug at his centre pulling him to you. An instinct that never fails to inform him of your whereabouts. A call for home. 

A home he can’t wait to go back to once his princely duties free him from this conversation. 

“See Prince Licht, I would love to-“ The man continues, but his words blur in the background and the world goes still around Licht as he finally catches sight of you. 

His heart skips a beat as your eyes meet his, warm as you beam at him, seemingly on your way to the rose garden. And his lips twitch with the hint of a loving smile, his chest too full with tender affection. It just has to spill out through his gaze in soft exchanged gazes. 

Happiness swells in his ribcage at the sight of your attire, a form fitting dress that hugs your waist and dips to your hips before falling in a drape of silk to the floor. He had made sure the colours of his suit matched the shades of your dress. 

Though his favourite part isn’t the dress, but the pleasure of removing it for you later on, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder as he slips the straps down, then proceeding to gently pull the fabric down your curves and-

No. 

Not now. I cannot be distracted by such thoughts in public. 

Sometimes he wonders if you are aware of the effect you have on him, how easily it is for you to turn him into a being of primal needs and sinful thoughts. How powerless he is in your hands. 

His hands ball into fists, knuckles turning white as he tries to keep his unwanted thoughts at bay. Still he aches to take a step towards you, to join you outside for some peace and quiet, to loop his arms around your waist and hold you close under the twinkling stars. 

But he can’t, so he bears with the heavy emptiness that settles in his chest as you exit the room. Counting the seconds that separate him from you, seconds that feel like years. 

Until the bells of your golden laugh reach his ears from the garden and through the ambient noise in the room. And before he knows it, his legs are moving on their own, called by the mesmerizing sound that never fails to make his heart flutter with wings of wonder. 

“Prince Licht-” The man starts, interrupted by Licht’s raised hand. A gesture that commands silence. 

“Excuse me for a moment.” His voice is flat, betraying nothing of the loud thrumming of his heart and the blood rushing in his veins as he makes a beeline for the rose garden. 

He steps outside, the cold air biting at the heat on his cheeks as his eyes fall on you, light embarrassment dusting your features as you laugh at something a young nobleman had presumably just said. 

His chest tightens as your lips curve in a sweet smile,  not for him, but for another man. Another man who had just made you laugh effortlessly. The tendrils of something dark spread over his heart, the green monster of envy taking over his better judgment. 

He takes a step forward. 

“I was searching for you.” He almost jumps out of his skin at the sound of his own voice, words that spilled from his lips before he could process them. Still it didn’t matter, this got your attention. And relief floods his veins as your eyes light up with excitement as you turn to him. 

“Prince Licht!” You exclaim, and pain needles at his chest as his title coats his tongue in a bitter taste. Still, you distance yourself from the unknown man, unaware of the veil of disappointment that crosses his features. Licht certainly does not miss it, though. And he hates it. “Can I present to you-”

“I need you to come with me.” He says, cutting through your own sentence. His heart squeezes painfully at this realization. Never does he ever speak over you, and you must have seen something was wrong because your sweet smile falters. 

I am sorry, there is just no way I am leaving you alone with this man. 

His gloved hand finds yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over the top, a gesture he knows you will recognise. Something you do to reassure him. He only hopes this serves to calm your nerves and inform you that nothing is wrong, that he loves you and that you are not the problem. 

“There is someone I want you to meet.” He continues, pressing a soft featherlight kiss to your cheek. Both to calm his racing heart and to send this stranger a message, as your matching attire apparently hadn’t been clear enough of a signal. 

Step away. 

You don’t know what caused such a drastic change in your lover’s attitude, but you nod, letting him lead you back inside and through the maze of guests, straight out of the ballroom and out into the dark corridors of the duke’s mansion. 

The large doors close behind you, the festivity and its concert now nothing more but a whisper in your ears, growing quieter and quieter as the two of you make your way farther down the hall and up a flight of stairs. 

You glance at your surroundings, curiosity tugging at your consciousness as you continue to follow Licht, until the two of you stop right in front of your shared bedroom door. 

“Licht?” You say in a quiet voice, eyeing the closed door, “I thought you wanted to introduce me to someone?” 

A heavy sigh falls from his lips. He knows he shouldn’t have lied to you, but the words left his mouth before he could think twice about it. Guilt crawls over his shoulders at the sight of your worry infused features. 

He just had to take you away, to take you far away from this man, or his heart might have burst. He cannot quite proceed what went through him, what haunts his heart and thoughts at the moment. 

But the sight of you laughing and smiling at another man was unbearable. Had him questioning everything, had him scared and insecure. And in depserate need of your touch, of your scent, of your warmth, of you. 

“I am sorry.” He whispers, a gentle hand stroking your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His heart melts as you place your hand over his, nuzzling in his touch. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. “It can wait, I must have you now.” 

Your answer dies in your throat as soft lips meet yours in an hungry kiss that has you staggering back against the door and has warmth pooling at your core. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding onto him for support as his hands tear at the fabric of your dress. 

“Licht-” You call between greedy kisses that steal the air from your lungs, desire flaring inside of you as he trails open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat and along your collarbones, teeth raking over your skin and sending delicious shivers up your spine. 

“I can’t wait anymore.” He says, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you over to the bed before letting you down gently on the sheets. 

You have no time to catch your breath before he climbs over you, face buried in the crook of your nape, a yelp coming from your lips as his teeth sink in your skin. Pleasurable pain soothed by kitten licks and his knee nudging at the sweet spot between your thighs. 

“You are mine.” He groans against your skin, taking in your scent as his hands roam down your sides, taking down the fabric of your dress with it. The cool air nipping at your exposed skin doing nothing to tame the roaring flames of your desire, your core begging for him to fill the aching emptiness inside of you. 

Fortunately you don’t have to wait for long, Licht’s hands settle at your hips, flipping you on the bed and spreading your legs for him. And although your sweet boyfriend’s touch isn’t usually this rough, you certainly don’t complain about the change of pace and the glimpse of something wild you catch in his gaze.  

“Arch your back for me.” He says, and you do as told, lying your front on the sheets and sticking your ass up in the air, bending like a bow for him. A shiver of anticipation coursing through your nerves as you hear the distinctive clink of metal and the ruffling of clothes. 

You suck in a breath as the tip of his length prods at your entrance, teasingly rubbing over your clit and collecting your honey. Even now, Licht remains the considerate and loving partner, making sure you are well prepared for what is to come next. 

“Could he make you wet like I do?” His question catches you off guard, any thought melting from your mind as his fingers dip in the buttery skin of your hips  and his cock slowly sinks between your folds. 

A high pitched moan stumbles from your lips, your walls stretching out for him as he pushes in deeper. Tears gather at your lashes, both from pain and pleasure of it hurting too good. 

He halts midway, giving you time to adjust to his size and collect your bearings, hopefully enough for you to answer his question. Licht knows he is big, knows that the first few thrusts always mix pleasure and pain as he stretches you out to accommodate him. 

He also knows you like being full, and that nothing fills you up as much as his cock.

“Could he make you wet like I do?” He repeats in a low voice, bending down over you to whisper in your ear, “Could he fill you up like I do?” 

The dots connect in your head, putting two and two together as you make sense of his words. He was jealous. Of a stranger. And although a part of you feels sorry for your lover, another part is much more eager to suffer the consequences of such dark emotions brewing inside of him. 

“No-No!” You cry out, fisting the sheets at your head, “Only you, Licht- Unhg!” 

A soft smile spreads over his lips, a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he pushes himself all the way in, brows furrowing as you clamp down around him. Tight and warm. And he’d like to think this is the only reassurance he needs, the only thing he needs for his heart to finally rest at ease in his chest. 

Unfortunately for you, that is not the case. And he wishes he could be sorry for the long night that awaits you, but he can’t, not when you seem to enjoy it and certainly not when you beg for him to move and make you his. 

His thrusts start slow and steady, building up rhythm until each snap of his hips against yours has you holding onto the sheets to ground yourself. Until your eyes cross at the back of your head and unabashed moans fall from your lips. 

“Good- Ungh- Keep making these noises.” He grunts, nails digging in your skin in crescent moons as he pushes deeper inside of you, repeatedly hitting the spot he knows has your toes curling. “Don’t hold back- Scream- Hng- Scream for me.” 

You do, unable to keep quiet, not when one of his hands dive between your thighs to flick his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Not when he stretches you out so good and has reality collapsing around you. 

Pleasure crashes over you, merciless and destructive as you crumble under its weight. Waves of radiating warmth spread from your core to every nerve ending as the coil of your high snaps. 

Licht’s rhythm falters, the telltale signs of his own release coursing through his veins as he buries his length all the way up between your folds, sheathing his release deep inside of you where he knows it will stay. 

He doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon though, using your own juice and his as fuel for the next rounds. 

“Hu-Ungh! Keep-Keep going!” Your broken cries for more only encourage him to pick up the pace once again, pumping his seed right back inside of your awaiting hole. Until another release washes over you, and another, and another, and another. 

Until he has made sure nothing but his name remains in your mind, nothing but his name falls from your tongue. And until he has made sure his cum would stay warm and nice inside of you. 

Until the Sun rises in the horizon and its golden light filters in through the blinds. Only then, does he tuck you under the covers, gentle fingers brushing away strands of hair from your matted forehead. 

And in spite of his extreme fear of being a parent, a stronger part of him finds himself daydreaming about a part of him growing inside of you, about a small family of your own. About a blissful future filled with love and laughter. 

“I love you.” You murmur quietly through the hazy clouds of sleep, his heart swelling at your words. 

He presses a kiss to your temple, collecting you in his arms as he lies behind you, an arm around your waist. And two fingers buried between your folds to keep his cum inside of you, nice and warm.

taglist: @randonauticrap @aquagirl1978 @nightghoul381 @pockcock @ikesimpleton @ikemen-writer @ikesimp100 @veervers @o0aj0o @elleplaysotome @lichtluv @kalims-pessimist-bestie

[princess-sof-time]

Hi Can I Request Felix, Adrien, Luka, Kyoko and Marinette With A Male S/O Who Has A Miraculous With Magic Concept And Can Cast Spells And Use The Powers.

Of Telepathy, telekinesis, Hypnosis. Intangibility, X-ray vision, and Invisibility In other words, it is practically impossible to have some kind of privacy with the S/O nearby.

How would they handle S/O always using her At-Will powers since it's a Miraculous From Another Box?

How would they deal with the fact that S/O has an extremely possessive Kwami and dislikes them and other Kwami?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

🄵🄴🄻🄸🅇 🄵🄰🅃🄷🄾🄼

• Felix would handle his Male S/O's magical abilities with patience and understanding. Though he might find it difficult to have privacy due to his powers, he would appreciate your uniqueness and respect your need to use the Miraculous.

• To deal with the constant use of the S/O's powers, Felix would establish open communication with them. He would express his feelings about needing some personal space at times and find compromises to find a balance between his presence and privacy. They would work together to create boundaries and guidelines for when and where the S/O can use their powers to avoid misunderstandings.

• Regarding the possessive Kwami, Felix would approach the situation diplomatically. He would understand that Kwami's protection comes from a place of care for his S/O and his Miraculouses. Felix strove to build a positive relationship with the Kwami, showing them respect, kindness and sincerity. With time and patience, he hopes to gain the Kwami's trust and prove that he truly cares for their S/O.

• Felix also tried to include the Kwami in his activities whenever possible, engaging them in conversation and making them feel valued as part of the team. He would show empathy for the Kwami's feelings and try to find common ground to improve their relationship.

• Overall, Felix would embrace the magical aspect of his S/O's life, understanding that he is an integral part of who they are. He would work to build a strong and sympathetic connection with them, appreciating the enchanting qualities that accompany their miraculous powers.

🄰🄳🅁🄸🄴🄽 🄰🄶🅁🄴🅂🅃🄴

• Adrien would handle the male S/O and his magical powers with patience and understanding. Even though it's difficult to have privacy with so many powers around, he would value the S/O's uniqueness and respect the need to use the Miraculous.

• To deal with the constant use of S/O's powers, Adrien would talk openly with him. He would express his feelings about the importance of having moments of privacy and seek solutions to balance the presence of the S/O and the necessary intimacy. Together they would create boundaries and rules for when and where the S/O could use their powers, preventing misunderstandings.

• Regarding the possessive Kwami, Adrien would approach the situation diplomatically. He would understand that Kwami's concern stems from his affection for S/O and the Miraculous. Adrien would make efforts to build a positive relationship with Kwami by showing respect, kindness and sincerity. With patience, he would hope to gain Kwami's trust and prove that he genuinely cares for S/O.

• Adrien would also try to include Kwami in his activities whenever possible, involving him in conversations and making sure he feels appreciated as part of the team. He would empathize with Kwami's feelings and seek common ground to improve their relationship.

• In short, Adrien would embrace the magical aspect of S/O's life, understanding that it's an important part of who he is. He would work to build a strong, supportive connection with the S/O, appreciating the enchanting qualities that accompany its miraculous powers.

🄻🅄🄺🄰 🄲🄾🅄🄵🄵🄰🄸🄽🄴

• With his serene and relaxed demeanor, Luka effortlessly adapted to the uniqueness of the situation, embracing the wonders of his partner's abilities with an open mind. He would take the time to learn more about the extent and nature of these powers, seeking to understand how they can positively impact their lives and the world around them.

• However, as with any significant advantage, Luka would be well aware of the potential challenges that constant use of these miraculous powers can bring, particularly in terms of privacy concerns. Understanding the importance of personal boundaries, he would initiate open and honest communication with his S/O, encouraging them to freely express their feelings and concerns.

• In their discussions, Luka would suggest finding creative ways to strike a balance between using these powers for practical purposes and preserving your privacy. Whether setting specific times to use the skills or creating safe environments for more sensitive conversations, he would be actively committed to supporting his partner's emotional well-being.

• Luka's caring and empathetic nature would extend not only to his S/O, but also to the possessive Kwami that accompanies the Miraculous. Recognizing the significance of this mystical being and his bond with his partner, he would approach the situation with patience and understanding.

• Taking the time to build a relationship with Kwami, Luka would strive to understand his perspective and motivations. By showing genuine interest and treating the Kwami with respect, he would seek to foster a harmonious relationship that considered everyone's needs and wants.

• As their relationship grows, Luka becomes a pillar of support and encouragement, celebrating his S/O's unique abilities while helping them navigate the challenges that come with possessing such extraordinary powers. He would be a constant source of reassurance, reminding his partner that they are not only defined by their abilities but by the person they are, and that their worth lies in their kindness, compassion and strength of character.

🄺🅈🄾🄺🄾 🅃🅂🅄🅁🅄🄶🄸

• Kyoko quickly realized that having a partner with such incredible abilities meant giving up some privacy.

• At first, her partner's constant use of powers could be overwhelming for Kyoko. As a private person, she felt exposed and vulnerable, but she understood that sacrifices were necessary for the good of the relationship. Rather than allow it to drive them apart, she chose to accept his uniqueness and learned to communicate openly about her feelings.

• Their relationship was put to the test further when Kyoko discovered that her S/O miraculous was from a different box, which raised questions about Kwami's origins. Together they rose to this challenge, delving into the mysteries behind their miraculous origins and the consequences of possessing them.

• However, one of the most challenging aspects was dealing with S/O's possessive Kwami, who seemed to dislike them and other Kwamis. Kyoko and her S/O had frank conversations to understand Kwami's perspective and find a solution. With patience and empathy, they gradually gained Kwami's trust, showing him that they had only good intentions.

• Over time, Kyoko and her S/O built a strong bond, acting as a close-knit team, using their unique abilities to protect Paris from any threat that came their way. The trials they went through brought them even closer, strengthening the love and understanding between them.

• Together they proved that love can overcome all challenging situations, even the most magical and possessive ones. With unwavering support for each other, they embraced their extraordinary lives and faced each day with courage, knowing that together they would be unstoppable.

🄼🄰🅁🄸🄽🄴🅃🅃🄴 🄳🅄🄿🄰🄸🄽-🄲🄷🄴🄽🄶

• Marinette realizes that her partner has a wide range of magical powers and understands the importance of establishing rules and talking openly to ensure their privacy. They understand that, even with the constant use of powers, it is essential to set clear boundaries to enjoy intimate moments.

• By openly talking about their feelings and needs, they find a balance between the excitement of being with someone with magical abilities and the desire to have personal moments alone. Mutual trust is supported by frank communication, which further strengthens the bond between them.

• Although Marinette finds her partner's powers fascinating, she also recognizes the importance of exercising caution to avoid accidental and potentially dangerous use of them. Understanding the potential risks and consequences not only contributes to the security of their relationship, but is also critical to protecting the city of Paris.

• The extra challenge comes in the form of the possessive Kwami who accompanies his partner. Dealing with the Kwami's reluctance towards others and his dislike of other Kwamis requires empathy and understanding. Together, Marinette and her partner tackle Kwami's concerns, delving into her past experiences and fears to ease her discomfort with others.

• On this journey, Marinette learns the importance of being patient and welcoming, seeking to understand Kwami's emotions and helping him overcome his insecurities. This kind and empathetic approach strengthens everyone's relationship, creating a more harmonious dynamic between them.

• As they explore life with magical powers and Kwami by their side, Marinette and her partner become an unstoppable team, facing challenges and dangers with confidence and togetherness. Living with the possessive Kwami teaches the importance of mutual respect and appreciation of the peculiarities of each being, making them an unlikely family, but full of love and understanding.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

[undermounts]

and other forgotten things

Summary: One year into his imprisonment, Aerin receives his first visitor.

Or alternatively, my version of the ch. 2 prison scene because I wanted more angst and anger <3

Read it here on AO3

-

Aerin is no stranger to envy.

He has spent his life wanting. Knowledge, affection, attention, power. Things he coveted but could never have from a family that did not want him, a kingdom that would not have him. Such was his lot in life, from the very beginning. He is Aerin Valleros, second son of the Gentle King, brother to the Crown Prince.

Or at least he was.

Now, Aerin is… well, he no longer knows what he is. A nobody, perhaps. Or worse than that, he is forgotten. He is a dark stain on a long and questionable legacy, the corrupt end to a line of corrupt rulers. He is an afterthought, a bad memory, an unwanted trinket that had long since lost its novelty, just another object to be tossed away with all of the other lost and broken things.

Aerin Valleros, brother to no one, heir to nothing.

And still, he wants. 

The thirst for knowledge—a most noble pursuit, his tutors had always said—has never waned. But affection, attention, power!—his ambition, his hunger, has been dampened. He has lived without each before, and he shall live without each again. He will do so gladly if it means he can have the one thing he now desires above all else: freedom.

A small window, set in cold, grey stone—his only connection to the outside world. The mingled chatter of people crossing the streets far below drifts up through the bars, too distant to be distinguishable. People, his people, living. 

In the hallway outside his cell, Aerin hears the scuffle of boots against ancient stone, the clink of armor, the whisper of fabric; his guards moving in another rotation. So soon? Aerin cannot help but wonder, questioning his own perception of time. How reliant he has become on the routines of his keepers, the punctual rotation of their shifts serving as his only means of marking the passage of time since he was left–discarded–in this cell a year ago.

Softly, distantly, he mourns, A year…

His name day–twenty one years now, he has lasted–came and went, alone in his cell. His father never even sent word, no acknowledgment that his second son–his only son, now–still existed. 

A metallic, shimmery noise, a dozen keys rattling together and then–click!

Aerin blinks as the door to his cell swings open. Too early for mealtime, his mind races, a tasteless bowl of sludge. 

All thoughts trickle out of his head as a figure enters his cell, clad in black leather armor, the scent of ash heavy in the air. For a moment, Aerin recalls volcanic fields and the constant presence of fear and agony all around him, but then his impossible reality reforms around him and he stares, slack-jawed .

“Iliana.”

Aerin does not mean to say her name, had vowed to never speak of her, never think of her again. But she is here, miraculously, cursedly, before him, in his blasted cell, a sight he never thought he would see beyond his dreams, his nightmares.

But it is in his nature to be wary, and life in court has taught him that deception is a means for survival. He stands, establishing equal ground, and lets his mask fall over him like a shroud.

“I wondered if you’d ever come and visit me,” he says evenly, each word pleasant but caustic. “It certainly took you long enough.”

How often, in the early days of his imprisonment, had he thought of this moment? At first, he dreamed that she would come to him, beg for forgiveness–how she had wronged him!– to proclaim her dedication to right this wrong, to free him, to undo the damage she had done. Then, as the days dragged on into months, and despair, desperation, and regret–the hurt!–set in, his visions of her shifted. She was vengeance: her blades, her bow, her fists–the arbiters of a swift and terrible justice, acting on behalf of herself, her brother, her friends, and Morella. Some nights, he even begged–let it be quick. 

It is hatred, it must be, he thinks, that threatens the stability of his bones now. And fear of her, the woman who had been his undoing. Everything that has come for him after is well-deserved; this he cannot deny, no matter how much it stings. His betrayal and hers, they are wounds he will never heal from.

And yet, Aerin is not prepared for the way Iliana winces. She had deceived him so thoroughly in the Dreadlord’s throne room, he sometimes forgets that she was not trained as he was to hide her emotions. They flit across her face now, pain and grief. Then, anger.

“Apologies, prince,” she snaps, her black leather gloves groaning in protest as she clenches her hands into tight fists. “I’ve been a little busy this past year.”

Aerin scoffs. “I’m sure you were. Celebrations and banquets in your honor must be exhausting.” He rolls his eyes, flinging the words at her like knives. “That’s the price you must pay for leading the life of a hero, I suppose. A heavy burden, you poor thing.”

“That’s not what I–” Iliana cuts herself off, eyes narrowing. She tilts her head and, oh, Aerin does not like that one bit, the way she studies him, as if she is looking right through him. Then, shockingly, pity clouds her face. “No one told you.”

Unease, slick and oily rolls through him. If the words come out a little harsher than he intended—well. Word from the outside world has not breached these walls in months. He is tired of being kept in the dark. “Told me what?”

Iliana takes a deep breath and turns away, her attention straying to the small window of his cell as she folds her arms across her chest. The silence drags on long enough and Aerin feels tempted to shatter it, to demand that whatever information she withholds be released. But then her eyes slide to him and she breathes heavily again, fingers curling against her arms. It occurs to Aerin that her posture looks less guarded and meek almost, like she is embracing herself, comforting herself.

And, damn him, his voice goes soft and careful. “Tell me what? What happened?”

To you. What happened to you? 

Iliana drops her arms to her side, then lifts one hand to her hip, searching. But whatever she is looking for, she does not find it, and her hand hangs limply in the air. “I was gone. In the Shadow Realm.”

Fear, shock, intrigue–it is a heady blend that races through him. Aerin takes a shuffling step forward, then halts. He does not know what he intends to do. Go to her? Comfort her? She certainly does not want that, not from him, and he does not know if he can bear it either.

“Why?” he demands instead, drawing a line down the center of his cell, a boundary he will not cross while she remains. “How?”

“Valax,” she answers, and the name clangs around Aerin’s skull with no small amount of dread. He knows it and knows to be wary of it. “She captured me. Experimented on me.”

“To what end?” he breathes out, blinking rapidly as spots cloud the edge of his vision. The Empire of Ash, playing their hand already. “Why you?”

Iliana’s gaze sharpens. “You know her.”

“Know of her,” Aerin corrects, shaking his head. “I never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Iliana says shortly and turns away again. She drifts to the window, keeping her back to him as she says, “Before you ask again—I do not know why. I don’t remember much.”

Her falsehood rings clear in the air, Aerin can see it in her rigid posture, defensive and bracing. How? How had she ever deceived him, this orphaned elf from Riverbend, when she cannot even look him in the eye to lie?

He knows the answer: because he wanted to believe her.

Remember that night together in the forest glade? Our kiss? That was real, Aerin. And it’s still real.

He banishes the thought, grinds it under his boot, but something in him still aches, still yearns. She looks so unsettled that he decides to let her lie hold, something he will circle back to later. 

“Are you…” It is difficult, still, to force the words out. To ask this, it feels too much like an admission, an exposure of weakness. He swallows. “Are you well?”

Iliana whirls, and her eyes, glittering ores of emerald, cut through him. Whittling him down to the bone. “What do you care?”

Indignation flares up in him and he glares. “Do you think me incapable of compassion?”

She laughs, a cold and jagged thing, and slashes her hand through the air. She paces back to the entrance of his cell, her steps harsh. “Incapable? Perhaps. But I know better by now than to believe anything you do or say after you lied to us all.”

“Do not forget that you lied to me as well,” Aerin snaps, distantly aware of the guards shifting just beyond his cell. They are listening, he realizes. To report back to the king? To intervene and rescue Iliana if they deem him too dangerous, too volatile? They are listening, and political training be damned, he does not care. “That you would still have me. That we—it was real. You lied.”

He expects Iliana to shout at him, wants her to—her anger, he can bear—but she only sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth, her face at once stricken and furious. When she speaks, it is to the ground, the dusty slab of stone that spans the space between them. “It wasn’t a lie, Aerin.”

He barks out a laugh, full of anger and bitterness, because that is all he has, all he is, all that he can give. Anger, bitterness.

And regret. So much regret, he could drown in it.

“You don’t believe me, I don’t believe you,” he says coolly, forcing his voice to even out, despite how wildly his heart races. “Let us leave it at that.”

Iliana opens her mouth, then clamps it shut, looking for all the world like she might protest. But in the end, she only shakes her head, resigned, and leans back against the metal door of his cell. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he echoes and they lapse into an uneasy silence. It is the closest thing, perhaps, they will ever have to an accord.

Aerin takes their momentary cease-fire to truly study Iliana as she stands before him, glaring at her feet and refusing to meet his gaze. He still cannot believe that she is here, after all this time. Her black leather armor, he notes with grim consideration, is standard issue for Ashen warriors. Her blue skin is pale, but otherwise unmarred, save for the scars she already bore. No signs of physical abuse, or just the work of a really good healer.

An entire year in captivity. Gods… Despite it all, he is grateful that she does not remember much. There is no way to tell how she might have changed, how her spirit might have dimmed. No matter what he feels about her—hate, anger, sorrow—Aerin finds that he does not wish to see her harmed.

“When did you return?” he asks, breaking the silence between them with an easy question, a tentative olive branch.

Iliana eyes him warily. “This morning.”

“This morning?” Aerin starts at that, forgetting himself. For a stupid, pathetic moment, something flutters eagerly against his ribcage, although he squashes the feeling down. “I must be one of your first appointments, then,” he remarks dryly, tilting his head. “What brings you here?”

Iliana’s gaze hardens and her expression shifts into something like grim triumph. Aerin does not know where he misstepped but he gets the impression that they have entered a game and she already has the winning move.

“Tell me everything you know about the Ash Empire,” she demands, hands framing her hips. “And don’t pretend you don’t know anything. You already admitted to knowing about Valax.”

“Why should I?” Aerin waves a hand through the air, dismissive. “What would you offer me in return? You are clever enough, I’m sure you could find answers on your own.”

“Or I could get answers from you and stop wasting time,” Iliana bites out, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezes her eyes closed in frustration. Then, she drops her hand and fixes him with a look that speaks only to her exhaustion—with him, with the Shadow Realm, with everything. “You owe me. You owe me this much.”

He… supposes he does.

Aerin sighs heavily. Sharing knowledge is a task Aerin has always taken a shine to. Few things are more important than learning more, and helping others to learn. This attitude, he thinks, may be the best thing his tutors ever taught him. But the Ash Empire… The dark kingdom is a topic he does not relish remembering. 

Still, Aerin shares what he knows, some of it, at least. Foundational knowledge. The Ashen Empress is the true ruler of the Realm and the Shadow Court had been but a fledgling resistance to her reign, one whose hopes of success had been bashed repeatedly by failed attempts to take over the Realm of Light. He speaks briefly of his own role in the Dreadlord’s bid for power against the Empire, doing his best to tamper down any rancid feelings he still nurses about the entire ordeal.

Anything more, he must keep for himself. Future bargaining chips. Perhaps, if he can remain useful, well… Maybe not all is lost for him.

“With the Dreadlord dead, I imagine the Ash Empire is already hunting down any remaining members of the Shadow Court,” Aerin hedges as he wanders over to the window, drumming his fingers against the ledge.

He feels Iliana at his back, her attention heavy on him. “Sounds like the Empire will be coming for you next.”

She is right, he knows. It is a reality he has long since come to terms with, but still, the reminder sends a bolt of fear into his spine. His fingers go still against the stone.

“If the Ash Empire makes it to the Light Realm, they’ll probably take special care in how they eliminate you.”

What do you care? he wants to snap, spitting Iliana’s words back at her. Instead, he only shrugs, keeping his gaze trained on the city outside the window. Something like yearning tugs in his chest.

“So,” Iliana continues, her irritation with his disinterest bleeding into her voice. “It would be in your best interests to tell me everything.”

Aerin arches his brow, glancing over his shoulder. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“Knowing you for more than five seconds.”

A dry laugh slips out of him and he turns around, leaning against the wall with his hands laced before him. “Planning to protect me, are you?”

“I’m planning to protect everyone,” Iliana corrects, rolling her eyes. “If I am to stand a chance protecting the Light Realm against the Empire, then I need to know everything.”

She is so… She is everything he read about, everything he dreamed of being as a child. A hero. 

He pities her. For her naïveté, for believing that she can fix every problem that comes her way. Almost as much as he envies it. She has never known true failure, not yet. When she does—and it is inevitable—then, she will understand. What she has now, her determination, her purpose—it cannot last.

Aerin looks away, running his hand through his hair. One more bit of information, he supposes, he can grant her. In his best interest, as she said. 

“There’s only one other thing, and to be honest, I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself,” he admits slowly, gauging her reaction. “The Empress has a terrible creature under her power. I caught a glimpse of it in the distance when I was bringing Nia to the Dreadlord.”

At the very mention of Nia’s name, Iliana’s expression looks almost murderous, like she might strike him down just for mentioning the priestess, but miraculously, she refrains. “What was it?”

Despite himself, Aerin shudders, recalling the undead creature, crafted of the seven hells itself. “Massive. Skeletal. A beast from nightmares.”

“How vague,” Iliana remarks, but Aerin knows the information has taken hold. She looks unsettled, certainly. Maybe even afraid. 

His answering smile is wry and almost apologetic. “I know. But it is unlike anything I have ever seen before.”

Iliana nods, seemingly satisfied with this information. “Thank you for telling me what you know.”

The look in her eyes makes it abundantly clear that they both know it is not everything, although for now it is enough. Maybe—Aerin curses himself for even entertaining the thought—she will come back for more. The idea lights something within him, although he does not want to think about what it means, what it says about his feelings toward her, everchanging and impossible to curb. It isn’t freedom, but it is something. How nice it would be, to have just a piece of the outside world come to him.

Desperation claws its way into Aerin’s chest and he hates himself for the way he caves, for how small his voice sounds as he throws out a lifeline, begging her to take it. “I don’t suppose… you might visit me again?”

Iliana’s expression is guarded, her response measured. “Maybe. I doubt I will even have a moment to breathe since the world needs saving. Again.”

That is… something.

Aerin tilts his head. Always playing the hero. “And must it always be you who saves it?”

He is not prepared for the way her shoulders slacken and she glances away. Gone are any traces of the bravery and determination she had brandished at him moments ago. What faces him now is only solemn acceptance, weary resignation to service. “Apparently.”

Aerin wants to tell her to stop, that it isn’t her problem to fix. But he would be a hypocrite. After all, didn’t he behave the same once, long ago? Believing that the realm’s problems were his to fix, if only he had the power.

And look where that thinking got him. Trapped in an old cell.

“Look, I can’t make any promises,” Iliana begins, her eyes flicking around the room as if she can’t quite look at him, but cannot settle her attention anywhere else. “Things between us are… I don’t know what they are. But I’ll try to visit again. I may need more information. So.” Her tone hardens, all business once more. “If you conveniently remember anything else?” She gestures to the guards outside. “Send word. Maybe I’ll come.” 

Aerin suppresses a smile, amused. “Sure. I hope you do.”

Iliana shoots him a look he can’t quite decipher, then turns away. As if expecting her, the guards unlock the door, revealing the torchlit corridor beyond. Aerin takes a steadying breath and is about to retreat to his cot when Iliana pauses in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. Aerin watches her hesitate, mouth opening and closing, and then—

“Do you regret what you have done?” she asks softly. “Wish that you hadn’t…”

Wish that you hadn’t betrayed me? Betrayed all of us?

Betrayed your brother?

Aerin’s breath is hard in his chest, something solid he cannot get out. Yes, he wants to scream. Yes to all of it.

“Would you even believe me?” Aerin asks earnestly, but he knows it is a fruitless endeavor.  “Whatever my answer.”

Iliana is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. But then she answers, “No. I suppose not.”

Aerin nods, closing his eyes as she slips out of the cell and the metal door slams shut behind her. He knew better than to hope for anything else. They did not trust each other. He did not think they ever would again.

The lock slides into place with a finality that quakes through his bones, sealing him back into this forgotten place, made for forgotten things.

[elizakai]

UH OKAY DUST X REAPER AND/OR SWAPFELL X NIGHTMARE? AHEUUEHA

omfg i love you i’m jumping at the chance to look at dust x reaper i better see some art somewhere in this fandom OUGH ok

well, dust’s died like how many times now, lets just assume they’ve ENCOUNTERED one another yeah?

⬇️⬇️⬇️

reaper feels bad for him. he isn’t even allowed to actually die, just experience death over and over, only to be thrust back into this torturous cycle.

imagine dust dying in the hall, he’s stumbling away and he just. sees the grim reaper. and he’s like oh shit. well then. *gets thrown back whenever they decide to reset*

reaper visiting a lot because, well, he’s dying a lot, he’s probably gotta. imagine a scenario where they actually get to talk. but its so so brief, dust is never dead very long, and reaper probably shouldn’t interfere otherwise…

(he’d also, be witnessing the deaths of the aus other residence, which. interesting. wonder what they have to say about things. and what reapers response may be.)

(of course this is assuming they interact after death, which i think makes sense with common depictions of the reaper at least)

dust probably chalks him up to a vision he’s having, or hallucination, when he dies, but maybe when he’s given more time, they can have broken up conversations.

like hey, mid sentence he gets thrown back into the land of the living, but HEY! next time he dies, just pick up the convo like nothing happened. “Anyways as i was sayin-“

Another thing to think about is just how SIMILAR dust is to geno. and most of us are afterdeath junkies i think💀

like, dust and geno have VERY similar motivations and go to similar lengths (think of error even)

i think of reaper could come to respect genos desires and motives, he’d feel the same towards dust. reaper always strikes me as a really lonely person, and dust is too for obvious reasons.

i’m imagining a scenario where reaper is just. real bored of just watching. so he starts like following dust around so he can see him. and dusts like ah. cool. fucking phantom ass to add to the list. i’m imagining reaper telling him like no, i’m very real dude, and dust is like haha ok, lemme touch you then

…for obvious reasons he can’t let him touch him💀💥 but that would probably make dust assume he is in fact a hallucination. but that’s ok. he’s an ODDLY nice hallucination.

maybe he even reminds him of the river person🤷🏽‍♀️

anyways, reaper just having convo, dust finding he likes it, it’s pleasant chatter to listen to, and then he’s like damn i really am sick, why am i so attached to this weird ass hallucination

(i’m just idea dumping so hard i apologize.)

reaper would find his conviction kinda cute, if not slightly frustrating. like bro, out here denying my existence, wtf💔

i wonder, if reaper can touch him when”” when he’s in the space of death, temporarily.

that would be cool :,))

if reaper doesn’t show up for a while and comes back dust just, getting happier, he’s got someone to talk to again that isn’t a dead friend or relative he’s killed multiple times.

i imagine dust has seen “death” enough times that, in life, he can “see death” (reaper)

they gain this weird little affection for eachother ok💔 a selfish part of reaper hopes dust will always get reset…so he can come talk to him

but part of him is also disgusted by the hope that he’s able to just. be laid to rest. what can be done yk?

YOU COULD MAKE THIS SO ANGSTY WHERE LIKE the anomaly suddenly

stops!

and dust is actually on his way to wherever you’d go when you die

imagine, reaper just. guiding him away to whatever afterlife or lack thereof, carrying his soul away and having to let him go. no more coming back.

cries

or yk, we can imagine a scenario where dust gets out of the loop, and they continue to see eachother and have their weird little friendship (?)

dust is like “i’ve seen death, he’s over my shoulder as i walk, whispers in my ear as i lie awake at night. death awaits my presence, and i deaths. i’ve felt the touch of death, and it was unbearably sweet , a feeling i will forever long for”

*horror from whoever he’s speaking to*

meanwhile reaper is just like, telling stupid jokes in his ear and giggling over someone’s stupid outfit, gossiping about the other gods and making dust look crazy laughing at stupid shit

i wonder if reaper could potentially see dusts phantoms, it’s a fun idea. they aren’t REALLY there, but dusts magic is kind of projecting them i imagine, and reaper has seen them when they die. i just imagine him shooing them away for dust, and he’s like naw man pay attention to me instead *slutty little strut*

you could interpret the way death even works a million different ways and have a bunch of different potential even. what if dust were to die and reaper…DOESNT guide his soul away. what if he keeps him. maybe dust wants that. they could “be together”.

maybe there’s an afterlife, and reaper is able to cross the gap. who knows. lots of potential.

they both have hoodies >:3 idc if that doesn’t mean anything

i feel like reapers dark humor would almost comfort dust lmao, it kinda lightens the load for him. reaper can assure dust that their souls are…ok. they’re at peace.

reaper is just happy to feel so validated and seen all the sudden

he can help dust understand how life really works

ironic huh. the essence of death being the thing that gives you a will to live.

just imagine in a time he’s died, reaper not being able to help himself. he just comes in for a hug. and both of them need it so badly. when dust is alive, he CANT touch him.

they both think about that hug a lot <//3

[mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake]

.:. A Ghost's Embrace .:.

Even though the rest of Task Force 141 understood that you were in fact with Simon, the two of you never displayed any affection in public. Feelings were dangerous and a liability in your line of work, having that information slip into an enemy's hand was a death sentence. And even though you and Simon had this agreement, he couldn't help but want to show everyone you're his, especially when Konig found comfort in your presence and would always be by your side. And it certainly didn't help when Price had paired you and Konig up for several upcoming missions. Ghost said nothing at the announcement, but his death glare was obvious.

The mission was successful, but not without civilian casualties and bloody injuries. An enemy had come up from behind you through the window, so you pushed yourself backward and out, the two of you tumbling down the roof. The plan was to use him as a cushion for your fall, the plan didn't involve him getting impaled on a steel rod and you barely able to move in time. The sharp protrusion sliced through your side like a hot knife. The gash was deep and the blood wouldn’t stop pouring, causing your vision to go blurry and dizzy. König grabbed your vest and pulled you to the side behind a concrete cover. Labored breaths left your lips. From all the screams the Austrian had heard in his military past, yours was the most heartbreaking when he secured the tourniquet around your midriff to keep you from bleeding out. Soap and Ghost showed up at the last minute to dispense the rest of the enemy soldiers, Ghost kneeling beside you.

»Simon,« he could see the fear in your eyes, he could hear it in your voice. »I don’t wanna die, Simon.«

»You won’t, sweetheart.«

The doctors in the Los Vaqueros infirmary worked tirelessly on your wound, making sure to keep you alive and stable, but you hadn’t woken up in a week, which was beginning to worry them and your teammates. And even though Ghost didn’t show his worry, he was internally panicking. He needed you in his life. You were the only sane part of his insane lifestyle, he couldn’t lose you.

You wake up attached to a machine that monitors your heartbeat. It shows a slight increase in speed as you wake up from your neverending slumber but quickly goes back to its regular rhythm. The hospital room is crude in design, you assume you’re in some army base hospital rather than an actual hospital. Your side is stitched and bandaged, and you can’t even feel the pain, but that must be due to the painkillers in your system. They make the room spin slightly as you stare at the ceiling. You wonder how long you’ve been out cold, are the others still here, or did they continue their lives and missions like nothing happened.

The door opens and reveals a woman in a white coat, her long brown hair tied in a high ponytail. Her eyes connect with yours and her serious expression changes to a wide smile.

»You gave us quite a scare, Mrs. Ri- sorry, I was told you prefer your call sign; Shock. I’m Josele Martinez, the chief medical doctor.«

Nodding absentmindedly, you wonder what she wanted to say before she corrected herself. Maybe she confused you with another patient, that could happen if the hospital is busy.

»How are you feeling?«

»Tired, like I was run over by a truck. And high.«

»We had to dose you with medication, even in your coma your heart was going crazy from the pain. You mind if I look at the wound?«

You slip your legs from underneath the covers and over the side of the bed, lifting your hospital gown enough for her to check.

»You’ll be good as new in a few weeks. It missed your vital organs.«

She changes the bandages and you take a few deep breaths to keep from moving too much. You ask her where you are and if anyone else is here as well.

»Yeah, Task Force 141 just came back with Alejandro.«

»I want to see them.«

She leads you down several corridors, your ears picking up a conversation between Ghost and the others when you’re near the mess hall. A man with a Spanish accent seems to be the loudest. Josele opens the door, all their eyes suddenly on her. Alejandro was just about to ask what the emergency is when you appear from behind her. Soap and Price smile in greeting, happy you’re finally among the living. A large smile adorns your bruised features and it’s what prompts Ghost to wrap his arms around you.

You snuggle into the warmth his strong body provides, your own hands on his chest. You hear him breathe in your scent and you do the same, exhaling a blissful sigh. He believed he would never hear or feel you again, a burden suddenly lifting from his shoulders.

Later that evening and after several meetings with the doctor almost calling you something other than your nickname, you get a visit from Ghost. He sits down beside your bed and rises you from your slumber. You turn the bedside lamp on and sit up, a tired smile on your face.

»You’re staying here for another week, no missions.« He sees you’re about to protest and hums, »that’s an order.«

A chuckle escapes your lips, »you know my rank is higher than yours, right?«

His gloved hand caresses your cheek, »I need you safe.«

His words make your heart melt, leaning into him for comfort. The door suddenly opens and a nurse enters, carrying some medication for you. She addresses you by your last name, except it’s not yours. Ghost goes rigid. The nurse finally leaves and you look at Simon.

»Riley, huh? I don’t remember marrying you.«

For a long moment, Ghost says nothing. For the first time in his life, he’s too afraid to look you in the eyes, too afraid to say something because his voice would betray him. You gently pull his mask off and touch his cheek, blue eyes now watching your every move. Closing the gap between you two, lips almost touching, you breathe out a single word. Ghost reacts by pressing his lips to yours.

»Yes.«

[bossboudicca]

Wrecker (TBB) SFW Alphabet

A little something something I threw together. Also on my Ao3 (link on profile)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Um, yeah! Probably the most affectionate clone in the entire GAR. His love language is definitely physical touch, with maybe a smattering of gift giving and receiving.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would be such an amazing best friend. I feel like so many people see him as a little slow and goofy, but getting close to him would show you a whole other side; someone who listens and gives wonderful advice and comfort when appropriate. He is a fixer at heart, can’t stand seeing people in emotional or physical distress.

The friendship would start, in my mind, as any sort of chance encounter. He helps you lift something heavy, maybe he’s chasing Batcher through the market and she upturns your table or knocks into you. Naturally, he has to stop and help, and it goes from there.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Absolutely. You know those videos of the giant baby elephants in rescue sanctuaries? Just completely oblivious to their size and strength but totally down for a cuddle 24/7? Yeah, that’s Wrecker. 

Not only does he love to cuddle, he is the best at it and has the best body type for it (in my humble opinion). Any kind of cuddling, but I think a favorite would be nestled against his side with your head on his big ol’ chest. Maybe a leg gets thrown over his own at some point.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

If we’re talking canon universe Wrecker, yes to settling down. Pabu is incredibly conducive to domestic life. If the two of you chose the tropical planet to settle on, let me set the scene:

Sheer curtains flutter against the rejuvenating ocean breeze blowing through open windows and doors, the adobe stone of your shared abode cool to the touch against the warm sun outside. Some of the door frames have been slightly altered to accommodate your companion’s remarkable height, and seeing the little personalizations around the home always brings an easy smile to your face. 

Walking into the kitchen, you can see his large frame facing away from you, your peripheral vision swarmed with bright colors and shapes of various fruits piled on the countertops. You watch as his head tilts slightly at the noise of your steps, before turning to regard you with a gleaming grin. 

It’s perfect.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would feel guilty, even if the majority of the issues were on the other party. As mentioned previously, seeing others upset or bothered by anything is almost intolerable to him. 

Likely, he would try to talk to that person multiple times to mend whatever troubles are happening. He would go to his brothers, even Omega, to gather advice on the situation. Eventually, as much as it would break him up inside, he would have one final talk with the person and let his true feelings be known in as gentle and polite a way as possible for him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

If you make him happy, and he makes you happy, he would absolutely commit. Marriage wouldn’t be something he would necessarily think about, being raised in the military and all. But if someone outside the relationship mentioned or alluded to it, or maybe the two of you attended another’s wedding, he would most definitely bring it up as something he is very interested in.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He thinks he’s gentle, and wants to be gentle. He’s a big boy though, essentially made for not being gentle, so it takes some practice for him to not actually hurt you when he gets excited about hugs and playful tussling. 

He is good at being gentle emotionally though. Has always been a comforting presence for his brothers, in or out of battle, and would be the same for you. Really just someone you can talk to or just sit quietly with. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

YES! Hugs all around. All the time. Big, full-body, two-arms-completely-wrapped-around, feet-lifting-off-the-ground hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Pretty quickly, if you say it first. He will most likely say it right back to you. 

If it’s left up to him though, it may take awhile, but eventually he just can’t hold it in anymore. It’ll come out at the most seemingly random times; he’s watching you pet an animal, peel a piece of fruit, fold a shirt - just something totally mundane and for some unknown reason all his feelings will just bubble up to the surface in that moment. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn’t often get jealous, as he believes people’s intentions are generally good. Sometimes, of course, they are not, but Wrecker is confident in himself and his relationship with you. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I really can’t imagine any of the clones are naturally good kissers (with the exception of Fives), so it might be a little…rough, at first. He’s a good listener though, a people pleaser and wants to learn, so if you’re patient with him and show him what you like you’ll be well rewarded and very happy with the results. 

For you, he loves coming up from behind, wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck, kissing and blowing raspberries and listening to you laugh.

For him, a kiss on the top of the head (if you can reach it) gives him wholesome, domestic butterflies. And of course the lips, which is obviously the best place to smooch on such a handsome fellow.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

All I can think about with this one is him meeting Omega: 

*bends over for a closer look*

“What is that?!”

But seriously, he loves kids once he figures them out. He would definitely love some of his own, but only if you want them too. If not, there’s plenty of little urchins running around Pabu he can toss up in the air and give piggy-back rides to.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

See letter D. Other than that, he likes to sleep in, preferably with you. If you wake up before him, grab some caf and a magazine and get back into bed. Let that man wake up happy, with you by his side.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Since he sleeps late, he can be a bit of a night owl. Cuddling with snacks and a good holovid under a super soft blanket? Sign y’all up.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You have but to ask. There’s nothing he’s ashamed or scared to tell you, not really, but he probably won’t take it upon himself to spill everything. He’s really more interested in what you’re all about; totally smitten and won’t even think to bring up much about himself.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you? It would take a lot.

With someone threatening his friends, family, or loved ones? It don’t take much bud.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He wouldn’t remember everything, he’s human (and a man), but certain things would jog his memory. Maybe you told him about a favorite flower or mentioned how you wanted to read a certain book or whatnot; he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it, but if he saw it he would instantly remember your interest and grab it for you. 

Favorite foods he can remember though.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Any firsts; first time he touched you, first kiss, first time y’all talked about feelings and what your relationship was. Stuff like that gives him butterflies, and he likes that. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like 

to be protected?)

He’s protective, but not in a stifling or possessive way. To put it simply, you are able to have scary dog privileges. 

There’s really not a whole lot you can do to protect him. Maybe if he’s got a spider on his shoulder or something you could get it for him? He would probably appreciate that.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

As mentioned above, he is a people pleaser at his core. While he’s not a perfectionist, he does try to put effort into showing you how much he appreciates you. He loves giving gifts too; not big, crazy, showy gifts, but little everyday things. Maybe a cool rock he found, snacks, stuff like that.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaving hairs in the damn sink when he shaves >:(

(he doesn’t mean to)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not too concerned. Even after Tantiss, he still works out and stays in shape, mainly because it’s been a part of his routine for so long. But if we’re being honest, he’s definitely checking his muscles out in the mirror or a window reflection fairly often. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yeah :( 

Especially if you guys became ‘official’ and were so for a while. He’s not clingy, but he would miss you like crazy if you had to leave for a time. And maker forbid, if something ever happened to you, he would be utterly broken apart for a long time.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

In the spring season on Pabu, Wrecker sometimes gets allergies for a week or so at a time. He totally hates it, not because of the sneezing or watery eyes, but because he really likes smelling the flowers that make him ill.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I don’t think he’d like someone who was super clingy or possessive. He’s a happy-go-lucky guy, especially on Pabu. He just wants to finally enjoy life, and wouldn’t want someone bossing him around too much or not letting him explore and discover his own habits and interests. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Drooling, snoring, arms-flung-out-to-the-sides, crazy deep sleeper. He’s also very warm, which can be a good or bad thing depending on you, the weather, etc. 

Sometimes he mumbles cute or funny little things in his sleep though. It always makes you smile.