#I would like the Si skin thank you!!! :D

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[tojisun]

oki but this is sooo biker!simon after that first hookup you two had!! (this is a silly ramble based on the vid teehee)

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; D/s; sexting :’> // biker!simon mlist

you left with your number saved in his phone and his number saved in yours – simon having been the one to type it in. he named himself in your contacts as ‘simon 🏍️’ then got too shy at its obnoxiousness so he renamed it to ‘simon’ only.

(you later changed it to ‘si <3’ anyway).

simon sends the first message, unable to wait.

“hope you got home safe.” <

he would’ve dropped you home if he could, but simon understands why you preferred to keep your location a secret from him.

he waits for your reply, which arrives thirty minutes later.

> “thank you!! and i just got home, safe and sound <3”

simon almost chokes at the giddiness that lodged in his throat, his fingers trembling as he sends his reply.

the conversation picks up after that, mutual awkwardness breaking as friendship begins to bloom. you two try to make up plans, but your schedules never synced up and it left simon starving. aching with a heavy desire because he wants to see you again. wants to be with you again.

he wonders if you felt the same way. if you ache for his touch. for his body. if you lay on your bed at night, tracing at your skin, reminiscing the way simon pressed kisses into your soft corners and tender flesh.

simon wonders if you do. hopes that you do.

because even though he knows how much you’ve whispered how you love him, he had chucked it to your delirium; had told himself that it was a spur of the moment thought in fear that you would actually reject him.

so it came to him as a surprise when you sent him a… sensual message. nothing too conspicuous, but something that set him ablaze.

> “i miss the way you held me.”

simon stares at the message, going breathless as the memories return to him full force. it’s not like simon forgot – he knows he can never – but he’s been trying to push it in the back of his mind to pursue a more innocent relationship with you.

because you deserve more than a series of messages full of the ways he’d promise to fuck you – positions, places, and the amount of times he’d make you cum just with his mouth. because you deserve more than just words. words that aren’t even spoken, just typed.

and yet, he couldn’t help himself. he types in his reply, his mind overtaken by a fog that settles within his blood, mingling with reason.

“i miss you too, sweet girl.” <

simon breathes in, his mind shackled by the memory of your heat wrapped around him, and adds:

“miss the way you moaned for me.” <

he doesn’t hesitate when he sends this but simon does feel a twinge of guilt when he finally sees it in the message thread, something that snaps him outside of the fog just long enough to feel the way he’s been tightly gripping on his phone.

because what if this was too much? was he supposed to just hint at what happened? to dance around the tension until you two finally get to meet? to-

> “i miss how you filled me up.”

“fuck,” simon whispers to himself as he stares at your message, his voice a ragged timbre of his devastation. he almost drops his phone on the floor, seized by the greatness of his desires that is pumping blood to his ears and into his cock.

he swipes his eyes along your message once again, unearthing the sound of your voice from his memories as he envisions the way you would’ve said this – breathy, whimper-y, broken. your throat having been thoroughly used by simon.

“fuck,” he repeats, adjusting himself underneath his sweats before sending his reply.

“i filled you good, didn’t i, princess? kissed somewhere deep in you. deeper than anyone has ever reached.” <

simon feels like a fucking depraved teenager at the way his cock jumped just at the mere sight of the speech bubble appearing on your end, showing him that you’re typing up a response. he stares at his screen intently as though willing it to finally reveal the earth-shattering reply he knows you’re going to send, only to see the speech bubble disappear completely.

he blinks, confused, and restarts his messaging app at the thought that it’s glitching. when it finally reloads, simon tries not to drown in his disappointment when he sees no new received replies from you.

his fingers twitch, apology already forming from the back of his mind, ready to be typed out. he bounces his legs, worrying over the appropriate words to use because he truly is sorry. he-

a notification ping shakes him from his thoughts and simon realizes that his phone had turned off amidst his spiral. he breathes in shakily, gulping when he sees your contact name flashing on the screen – ‘princess’ – and taps at your icon.

oh.

“oh,” simon repeats out loud, his voice a warbled croak.

because who wouldn’t be breathless at this?

this being an image of you in nothing but simon’s zip-up jacket, the one that he lent you from that one fateful night when you two met up. it falls just past your pelvis, giving him a good glimpse of your thighs only to cut just above your knees, a grave loss that resonated with simon as he honest to god whimpers. it’s not zipped up all the way, stopping like a low v-cut on your chest which shows enough of your cleavage and your pretty tits that simon’s throat constrict in his thirst.

simon’s greedy eyes almost bypass your other message:

> “i wish you can tear my clothes off me again.”

he groans, feeling his cock leak from your message; from seeing you love his rough side.

he has to grip his phone as his unrelenting mind wanders, imagining the way he’d rip that jacket off your beautiful body. the way he wouldn’t even fully shrug it off you because simon wants to take you that way – surrounded with everything of him. his cock buried in your cunt, his hands braced on either side of your face, and his clothes grazing the skin with which his hands can’t caress. simon wants to envelope you with all that he is. with all that you will allow him to give.

fuck. he wants you. he needs you.

simon has to breathe through his mouth as he sends you a reply, choosing careful words to express his intention.

(but not to express the twinge of his darkness. of his possessiveness. not yet, anyway.)

“i’d do that and more, sweetheart.” <

he licks his lips, fingers hovering above his screen. thinking. hesitating. making up his mind. then, sending:

“wanna see what you do to me? how you make me so fucking hard?” <

simon absolutely moans at your beautiful, submissive reply:

> “yes, please.”

(what a good girl. and simon doesn’t even need to teach you how to be one. god, aren’t you just too perfect for him?)

[i-still-got-love-for-you]

So High School

Percy Jackson x daughter of Hebe!reader

Instagram SMAU

A/N: help it’s only the first month of school and i’m already behind 😭😭😭 take some percy fluff bc i need it too. thanks for all the love on my other works!!!

se4weedbrain

playing So High School by Taylor Swift

pov your beautiful girlfriend came to visit you in nyc

-comments-

youngandbeautiful: anything for my mans 😘

-> se4weedbrain: 🥰

pinecone: drop the routine sis 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> wiseg1rl: your skin is glowing 🗣️🗣️🗣️

barbiegirl: where’d you get that sandwich? it looks so good!!!

-> youngandbeautiful: thanks lena! it’s from place

youngandbeautiful: love the song babe

-> se4weedbrain: you said it was your favorite ❤️

youngandbeautiful

we’re actually so aesthetic

-comments-

wiseg1rl: you would think percy has all the goofy pics but nope. it’s you

-> youngandbeautiful: i like to surprise people

se4weedbrain: you smile makes you 10x more gorgeous

-> youngandbeautiful: 🤭🤭

barbiegirl: percy count ur days in stealing your girl

-> beckencall: ??? lena ur dating me???

-> barbiegirl: porque no los dos?

youngandbeautiful

playing the lakes by Taylor Swift

he said “i know a place” and took me to a forest my ass thought i was about to be MURDERED

-comments-

pinecone: dw any forest you’re in, you’re safe with me

-> youngandbeautiful: this is why i love you ❤️

savetheearth: percy when are you taking ME out like this?

-> se4weedbrain: next saturday 10am

-> wiseg1rl: chat is this rizz?

se4weedbrain: i’m so sorry princess i’ll tell you where we’re going next time 😔

-> youngandbeautiful: it’s ok sweetheart i forgive you❤️❤️❤️

se4weedbrain

crumbl cookies 😈😈😈

-comments-

wiseg1rl: what flavors?

-> youngandbeautiful: snickerdoodle, reese’s pieces, confetti., and semisweet chocolate chunk

-> pinecone: what’s the blue one called?

-> se4weedbrain: mine

wiseg1rl: CAN I HAVE A SNICKERDOODLE

-> youngandbeautiful: OF COURSE MY LOVE

pinecone: it’s gonna be a reeces for me

savetheearth: can i have a confetti for me and a snickerdoodle for june?

-> se4weedbrain: sure thing bro

barbiegirl: me and charlie would like a confetti and a reeces please 😘

-> youngandbeautiful: anything for you bbg 😘

trainerofheroes: Perseus, may I request a snickerdoodle cookie for myself and Mr. D? They look quite delectable

-> se4weedbrain: 👀👀👀 sure chiron

youngandbeautiful: I GET TWO CHOCOLATE CHUNK!!!!!!

-> se4weedbrain: i love you so much

[528-hotline]

hi angel hope ur doin well today <3 i saw ur post n i need to know ur thoughts on stepbro! gyuvin pls 🤲

pairings | stepbro!gyuvin x stepsis!reader

warnings | stepcest, perv!gyuvin, noncon elements, voyeurism, panty stealing / sniffing, size kink

a/n 💌 OH MY GOD THEE QUEEN??? hello there AAAA thank u for requesting <3 i hope this is up to your liking heheh i hope you enjoy!

stepbro!gyuvin annoying and teasing you for having a small height for your age, but in reality he goes feral and would wanna just carry you to his room and fuck you there like his own personal fucktoy!! this guy would have a size kink i just know it!

stepbro!gyuvin stealing your used underwear and sniffing them while he jerks on it to his room. when he’s about to cum, he grabs your panties and shoots his seed directly to it. after a while, he would feel guilty and wash your panties for you :( he’ll leave it to dry somewhere in his room and puts it in your drawer when you’re not around as if nothing happened

stepbro!gyuvin jerking in front of his laptop with the pictures and video of your panties and your thighs he took secretly everytime you’re in escalator or in a jam-packed elevator when you’re wearing skirts or your uniform everytime you’re with him!!

stepbro!gyuvin installing a very small camera on eumppappa’s collar to spy on you everytime his dog comes near you. everytime you make cute little noises to his dog, and everytime the dog comes near your pretty parts such as your chest and thighs, he can’t help himself but jerk off on the recordings!! he’s kinda envy that his dog can come near you like that and he doesn’t have the guts to do so :((

one time, you heard skin slapping on gyuvin’s room, and even caught him moaning your name when you just arrived home from school. you decided to confront him after you put your things down your room and confronted him when the “noises” from his room died down.

you knocked on his room, opening it afterwards. “hey gyuv… mind if i ask you something?” you asked him, you were greeted by him playing with his phone on his bed. “hm.. what’s up?”

“d-do you like me?” you asked, he suddenly stops on playing his game, he then snickered, “psh, no? you’re my stepsister, what in the world is that question?” deep inside, gyuvin’s eager to say yes to you :(

“i heard you moan my name by the time i arrived, you sure you don’t like me?” you chuckled, and gyuvin froze at his position, this is a situation he cannot dodge, so he decided to tell you the truth and apologize. he doesn’t wanna lie to you anyway :(

“s-sorry, y/n… you see… i, uh… i sorta like you and you’re so pretty i can’t help it… and the fact you’re my stepsister is so wrong to think this way… can you forgive me?”

“if you’re really sorry… then, do you wanna help me?” you asked, lifting up your uniform skirt, to reveal your panties. the sight immediately made gyuvin’s dick twitch. this was everything he’s been dreaming of and it’s finally about to happen.

“fuck… mind helping me too then, sis?”

next thing you know, you’re bouncing on your stepbro’s cock in your skimpy little uniform :3

[craziechwiv]

Who's scarier, Ren or Nora?

Yang: It's gotta be Nora Rubes.

Ruby: Nuh, uh! It's Ren, silent but deadly trope?

Yang: That's a biased opinion and you know it!

Ruby: Just because we have one of those on our team doesn't mean it's biased! It's common knowledge!

Yang: Oh my- wait is that Jaune? Let's go ask him.

Ruby: Yea, then you'll see how wrong you are!

Yang: Keep dreaming lil sis.

Jaune is walking until he is suddenly pushed against a wall and pinned, he was gonna shake his aggressors off him till he realizes who they were.

Jaune: Uhm...whatever I did was probably a dare!

Ruby: Not what we're here for Jaune, we need to settle something and you're our prime source for the answer!

Jaune, looking at Yang: That would be...?

Yang: Who's more scarier, Ren or Nora?

Jaune: Oh, well let me go first.

Yang and Ruby let go of Jaune as he stretches out his limbs before leaning back on the wall.

Jaune: Okay, to answer this I need something more than who's scarier. Give me a scenario.

Yang: When we're on missions! Have you seen Nora mess up those Grimms last time? I'm pretty sure some we're running away from her actually.

Ruby: So? Ren is also quite lethal too! One minute he's firing precise shots at them and the next he's cutting them up like sushi!

Jaune: Well, I have to side with Yang here. Nora is more gruesome than Ren there.

Yang: HA!

Ruby: Aw...

Jaune: However...Ren is still more scary in general.

Yang: What?! How?

Ruby: :O

Jaune: Only for one incident...

Yang: And what might that be?

Ruby: Yeah tell us!

Jaune: Well...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nora is skipping along the hallways of beacon before being stopped by someone

Random student: Hey you're Nora, right? Fancy work you did with that weapon of yours!

Nora: Oh, thanks! You're too kind.

R.S.: Say, how's about we hang out from time to time? I'd like to spar with you.

Nora: Oh no thanks, I already have a sparring partner and I'm on the track to meet him actually-

The random student then grabs Nora's hand by surprise.

R.S.: Well, how about we go to my dorm then~?

Nora: Wait- what?! I don't really, uh...

R.S.: Aw cmon, we'll have lots of- *thunk, thunk*

The random student feels something metallic behind his head and freezes in place, not wanting to turn around and see what it may be.

Ren: She said, she doesn't want to.

Nora: Renny?

R.S.: Easy bro...it was just a suggestion.

Ren: Then me disposing of your life is an answer.

R.S.: You- You won't get away with this!

Ren: I can if you can't recognize me.

R.S.: Why you...

The random student tries to take a swing at Ren, only swinging at air before he feels a sharp object on the back of his neck, barely pricking its way through his skin layer.

Ren: When I count to ten, you'll run. 1...

The random student was already running down the hallways, not looking back at all. Ren then turns towards Nora.

Ren: Uhm...sorry about that?

Nora, who's flustered and looking at Ren in a whole new light: D-Don't worry about it Renny...how about we skip training actually?

Ren: Are you sure?

Nora: I'd let pancakes burn in a fire right now just to be in a bed with you right now!

Ren: O-Oh....okay, lead the- WOAH!

Ren is picked up by the muscle shortie and carried all the way to their dorm room, leaving a bewildered Jaune Arc who was watching the whole scenario from the corner.

Jaune...what the fu-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yang:

Ruby:

Jaune: So yeah. Ren is way scarier...when it comes to Nora. Which is a lot.

Yang: That was...not what I was expecting...

Ruby: That is...super hot~.

Yang: RUBY! That is the last time you read one of Blake's book.

[supercorpkid]

Powergirl Should Die

Supergirl. Powergirl. B!D. Kara Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Alex Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Lena Luthor, Winn Schott.

Word Count: 2550.

Porwergirl should die. Someone should kill her.

The suit is skin tight, it clings so forcefully onto you as if it's trying to become part of you. But this other skin, just simply doesn’t fit right over your bones. 

There is a huge House of El crest over your chest, in its golden glory. It weighs down on your skin, heavy and sacred. It should help you feel at ease. It doesn’t. It feels like it’s burning your skin like a branding iron. 

Kryptonian? 

Yes. 

Super powers? 

Yes. 

You’re a superhero. Next, please!

Kara stands tall next to you, hand on your shoulder. “Would you look at that,” your sister smiles brightly at you. “Mother and father would be so proud of you, mini me.”

Kara has called you that your whole life, but you never felt so little as you do right now. You've also never felt so much like Kara. Crumpled up inside this supersuit to fit someone else’s dream. You don’t think your parents would be very proud of you now.

“Kara, this feels odd.” You try to lift the suit from your skin, that is so snuggled up it barely leaves you room to breathe. “I-I look like you.”

“I know!” She proudly squeaks. “I asked Winn to only change the colors. How do you feel about the white, red and blue?”

“Like a walking American flag.” You wince at the thought. You like the white, it’s a little more sober than the blue in Kara's suit, it also reminds you of the vest you used to wear back in Krypton. The red cape feels like they've ripped a piece of Kara’s and placed it on your back. The high blue boots are uncomfortable and the matching gloves are just plain stupid.

“You certainly don’t look like one.” Alex chimes in from behind you, and you turn around, sick of the sight of you in the mirror. “Honestly sis, I like this suit. I think it might be even better than Kara’s.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, mine has history.”

“Yours is a copy of Superman’s.”

“That’s what I mean, history.”

You watch your sister’s bickering with faint attention because they both would never say how ridiculous you look with this dull, hideous, comical outfit.

But it didn’t matter how foolish you looked, or how stupid you felt. There was no way out of this. Kara said you looked perfect and Alex agreed. J’onn, who’s been the closest thing to a father to you on this planet, gave you a stiff smile when asked what he thought. He could read your mind, remember? That’s what he thought about it. And Winn was just over the moon with his creation. No way out. From that day on, you’re Powergirl.

It hasn’t been long since you started being Powergirl. You’re still not the most prominent face of the Supers, thank God for that. You do the easy jobs while Kara takes on the real bad guys. You follow her lead. Obey to what Alex tells you to do over the comm that is permanently stuck in your ear. As if you couldn’t hear her from miles and miles away.

But with every passing day, it becomes even more obvious to you that you were really not cut out for this superhero life. Not good at it. Not happy with it. Not fit for it.

The very opposite of Kara, actually. Because Kara fits everywhere and with everyone. She fits perfectly in her suit, with her alias. Perfectly at her job at CatCo, as a news reporter. And ever since she landed on Earth she created her perfect family, story, life on this planet. 

You, on the other hand, wish everyday you were still at Krypton. You are well aware that if you stayed behind, that if your parents hadn't made Kara snuggle your smaller form against her own body on that pod, you would have exploded. You wouldn't be alive today. And you wish people knew you don't want to be dead, you just wish your planet hadn't exploded in the first place.

Sure Kara feels the same. Yet she makes a name for herself and gives back to this planet that took you both in so willingly, that gave you both powers because of its sun. Kara is just different.

"Mother would want us to use our powers for good." She would whisper to you in the dark, whenever the Danvers would tell you to not use your powers. Whenever they asked you to fit in completely. "Father spent so much time trying to stop our planet from deteriorating, don't you think that if he had powers he would use them to make that happen?"

She would ask you questions that didn't feel like questions. That required no answers at all. Kara would tell you what she knew about them, use them as arguments to explain to you (convince even) why you had to become a superhero too. 

And you would lay there in the dark, after your sister was asleep, looking at the long dead stars, and wondering whether she was right. Whether that was your parents' plans all along or just a sad coincidence.

"Powergirl." You hear Kara's voice early in the morning while you're still trying to brew yourself a cup of coffee. "I need you for a second."

"It's too early in the morning and I have to get ready for work." You press on your comm to answer. "Can't you deal with it alone?"

"Hm, no. I need you to come here now." 

You let out a huge sigh, trying to ease your own mind. Coffee will wait, you guess. You're out of your pj's, into your suit, and out of the house in a blur. You stop next to Kara while she stares at a billboard.

"What?" You can't help the harshness of your tone as you see no emergency around her.

Kara says nothing. Only points at the billboard and you finally take note of it. Written in large red colors, the sentence: Powergirl should die.

Huh.

"It seems that you have an enemy." Kara says when time enough has passed for you to read the sentence over a few times. "Don't worry, we'll catch them."

Cute. It's your first thought. It's almost like someone wrote you a love letter, au contraire. 

Kara makes an effort to tear it all down, destroy the billboard before anyone sees it. You don't help her, stuck inside your own mind, replaying the words in your head. 

"No need to worry." She assures you, hand on your shoulder to get you out of your trance. "No one will do you any harm, mini me. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Thanks, Kar." You look at your watch on your wrist. "Work calls." And so you fly home.

You try to lodge that sentence in the back of your mind. You don't wanna seem stressed out, even though you are. But showing how actually worried you are about it, and with the fact that someone is coming for you, it's inconceivable. 

Kara would worry. Alex would stress. Ooof, you can see it all playing out. Sleepovers and excuses for you to miss work and hang at the DEO headquarters so they can keep an eye on you, until you're feeling suffocated.

No, no. You can't go through that. It's been a while since you and your sisters shared a bedroom. You don't think you three can do that again now that you're grown ups. 

It happens again. You don't see it, but you hear the agents commenting about it, a couple days later. They get muted the second you fly in the DEO, which is not only annoying but foolish. You do have super hearing after all.

"So, where was it this time?" You ask Alex, while she tries to avoid looking at you. 

"Where's what?" She tries, and you furrow your brows.

"Winn, put it on the monitor." You ask coming closer. Winn looks at Alex as if asking for permission, but you don't give her time to deny him. "Come on, I heard the agents. I'm still Kryptonian even if I'm not a Super."

Winn huffs. "On the tallest building of National City." The photo goes up on the large TV in front of you, and you swallow deep.

Powergirl should die. 

"Y/N," Alex talks in a low tone so the agents around can't hear her. "it's not personal."

"Looks personal." You cross your arms, turning your back at the TV. "Someone wanting me dead sounds like it's as personal as it can get."

"Supergirl is looking into it, I promise we'll catch whoever did this."

"Alex, please." You pass her on your way to the training room. "You know damn well my favorite thing about you is that you don't lie."

"You've lost too many punching bags." You hear a voice behind your back, and you breathe deep before turning around.

"Just training a little." You look at the number of destroyed bags by your feet and decide that it's true, there's too many, even though that's what they're here for. 

"Alex told me about the message." Kara approaches you slowly, trying to test the territory. She can see your distress, but doesn't know the extent of it. And she won't, because you're definitely going to fake it.

"Yeah, tall building. They got the writing off quickly, though. So no major problems."

"Honey," Kara's voice is even sweeter now, if that's possible. "I'll catch them. I'll be patrolling tonight. No one's coming for you."

"I'm not worried." You smile at your lie, or half of lie for what it's worth. Knowing that Kara will be patrolling the city helps. You know your sister would never let anything bad happen to you. And it's very unlikely that anyone on this planet could easily defeat two Kryptonians.

Kara also smiles, and brings you into her arms for a hug. And you breathe out, calmer. Kara's arms have kept you safe from many perils. Spaceship lost in space, new planet, new school, new job. Surely she can keep you safe again.

You don't feel safe, though, when you wake up to a familiar voice far away. You rub the sleep from your eyes, well awake, paying close attention to a conversation you weren't invited to be a part of.

"Alex, I went around the city, there's no new wri-"

"Kara? What was that?"

There it was, in big red letters the sentence that has been haunting you for days. Powergirl should die. And under it new words' been added, someone should kill her.

"I found new writing." Kara's voice comes a second later. "It's worse this time."

"Take a picture so we can compare the handwriting and get back here."

"I have to clean this up." But before Kara even has the chance to, you're flying next to her in front of the L Corp building. "Y/N! What are you doing here?"

You move closer to the building to investigate. The ink is still wet, it wasn't done too long ago. You look around trying to find cameras. It's Lena's building, you're sure there are cameras everywhere. You spot one with a direct view.

"Mini me-" Kara tries.

"Go to work Supergirl, I'll deal with this. Someone wanting me dead is my problem." It's always been your problem, you are aware. But Kara promised you, you had nothing to worry about. Promised she would patrol the city. Promised she would protect you. And yet, here it is, in big block red letters.

"But-"

"I got it, Kara. Can you just believe in me?"

"Y/N, you know I do. I just wanna help."

"I don't need help." You clench your jaw, tired of being treated like a little girl. Like a mini Kara instead of your own person. "I'm Kryptonian too."

Cheap shot? Maybe. Definitely. You throw it, anyway. 

You clean the writing then fly home to suit up. You can't face Lena without it. Another secret that only makes you hate your secret identity as hard. Lying to your friends, sneaking out, it's all stressing and there's literally no reward high enough worth of all this.

"Lena."

"Oh shit." Lena's hand goes to her chest after her obvious scare. You can hear her heart almost beating out of her chest. "It's too early for bad news, Powergirl."

"Trust me, I agree with that." You breathe out, trying to give her a smile. It comes out flat. "I was wondering if I could look into one of your surveillance cameras. There was some writing on this building this morning, I would very much like to know who's responsible."

"Writing? I - I didn't see anything when I came in."

"Good. I cleaned it as fast as possible." You point at her computer and she breathes deep as if she is agreeing with you. 

It doesn't take long for the images to be up, and you two to be carefully reversing the filming until Lena sees you and Kara flying in front of it, and read the words herself. She looks up to you and quirks up an eyebrow, in question.

"Currently unsure if someone is threatening me or if this is just general knowledge being passed on." 

"People don't want you dead, you're a superhero!" Lena argues. "Maybe Lex, but he's currently serving his time."

"Clearly not everyone agrees with you." You point back at the words on her computer.

"It's awful." She admits, even though she doesn't fully trust you or Kara yet. "Wait, wait. There."

You can't see a thing. One minute is there, the other isn't. You slow down the images, trying to see any detail. Lena soon takes over and slows down as much as she can. That's when you see it, just a tiny flash of red. You hold your breath. Thankfully, Lena hasn't noticed it.

"How's this possible? There's no one." 

"Seems that I'll have to patrol the city myself tonight." You're almost leaving Lena's office when you turn around one more time. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Luthor."

"I was barely of any help at all." Lena points at the computer as proof and you give her a smile.

"Au contraire, darling. You showed me everything I needed to see." You wink at her, then fly out.

You march inside the DEO, positive on your plan. No one is talking you out of it, that's for sure.

Winn tries to argue that it is illogical for you to just give yourself to your enemy. He gets ignored. Alex argues that as a DEO agent she can't let you do this, and as your older sister she would be insane to leave you alone in this situation. You don't budge. Kara pulls out the big guns, her promise to mother and father, her duty as your protector, how you're the only connection she still has with Krypton, her love for you and so on. Her cries fall on deaf ears.

So at night, you fly around National City watching and studying everyone in it, even though you know you should only be looking for one person. One person with superspeed, a red cape and a big motive.

[coff-in]

Oh my god can that be my name? Devious Anon? <<<< I mean if you wanna kiss I'm not gonna say no.../j Also that's such a mood this game constantly invades my mind during working daytime hours, thank fuck I am done with finals sooo for now I have some time to fuck around :D Okok so first and foremost, I think the main reason Andrew might not kill baby sis reader is because he thinks she doesn't deserve to be dragged into their old sibling bullshit. Reader is still playing angel most of the time, so Andrew mostly thinks of her as innocent and she still has her whole life ahead of her! I like to think he would at least leave her some sort of message before he kills Ashley and them himself, but she doesn't take well to it because her siblings are dead and that was her whole life and now there's no life ahead of her! (This is compounded if Andrew was her favorite sibling and left the message behind because I think there's an extra layer here of "you'd die for Ashley but leave me behind, so clearly you care about her more than you care about me" and by god will she chase him to hell to terrorize him about this.) I WROTE THAT LINE BC ANDREW'S IN MY MIND WITHOUT RENT 24/7 LIKE AAAAA THIS MAN HAS NO RIGHT!! BEING!! SO DATEABLE!! Like hell I can't blame Ashley or Julia I just-rrrrghh. I read one of your past posts where you mentioned Andrew eating the reader out and all I can think of is him telling her that he'll take such good care of her and to relax when she wakes up to him eating her out first thing in the morning. Anyway. Ahem. Excuse me for that horny thought. If devious baby sis is left behind with the not-favorite sibling...I think she ultimately still loves both her siblings, just unbalanced, so she'll still stick around, but eventually the sibling will kind of realize that reader has lost her light. She can't joke around as much, she stops being a little shit, she's helpful and clings close and gives the sibling affection but there's some measure of distance unlike before (she probably also holds some hidden resentment towards the surviving sibling). This could ultimately go three ways—the surviving sibling eventually patches up with her and becomes her favorite sibling/or at least on equal grounds with the dead sibling (good ending), the surviving sibling goes off the rails as the realization that their baby sister no longer loves them (and maybe never did love them) the way they always thought she would (kinda bad ending bc I can see Andrew resigning himself to this, maybe thinking this is what he deserves, but for Ashley, this is another slap to the face because once again, not even her own little sister puts her first), or little sis reader eventually can't take it and kills herself (bad ending for sure bc I don't think Ashley or Andrew will be sticking around for long after that.)

notes from coff-in: AAAAAHHHHH DEVIOUS ANON DEVIOUS ANON WELCOME TO THE COFFIN!!!! im so happy to have you here! i was honestly refreshing tumblr on my phone waiting to see how'd you respond to my post im sorry!! tcoaal has been a daily in my life for a month now, like ive never been to attached to a piece of media this hard before (besides homestuck) ah anyway, your ask! my response!

[fem] reader-insert, [devious younger sister reader] continued, incest, NSFW, murder

andrew leaving a note for baby sis [reader] would fuck her up SOO MUCH, like holy fuck. this has gotten me thinking about how, what if, reader killed ashley for andrew? like classic yandere style stuff: [reader] sees ashley getting under andrew's skin and pushing his buttons and making him mad. when ashley goes to have her vision she sees [reader] chasing after her instead! "i don't know why you insist on pushing him so much, leyley. why can't you be a good girl like me and do as he says? hm? maybe it's cause you don't love him as much as i do... i'm pretty sure no one ever will really." i'm not the best with dialogue but like GGRRRRRRR I CAN SEE IT IN MY MIND

ashley would then have to worry about andrew leaving her AND her little sis possibly killing her! that's not even taking into accounts andrew's reaction to it since the visions always end after ashley dies... would he resent [reader] for killing ashley? would he kill her in turn and then himself? WHAT IF ASHLEY DEFENDED HERSELF AND KILLED [READER] IN THE VISION??? im really going into hyperdrive thinking all these thoughts

also never apologize for horny in my inbox, this whole blog is my excuse to write porn about me and the graves siblings (and now you guys too!! yay!!! :D) i saw it come up on the tcoaal subreddit that andrew would eat pussy and it just made so much sense in my head. i headcanon that andrew likes to eat pussy (idk if he's any good but he's eager to learn) and is an ass man. i mean he talks about ashley's fat ass in the motel room, and how he would slap her cheeks when climbing into their parent's house, AND THE SCENE WHERE HIS FINGERS ARE THROUGH ASHELY'S BELT LOOPS!!! god i can imagine his waking up baby sis [reader] with the most sloppiest head ever, rubbing her thighs and saying how he's "gonna be a good big brother and take care of you"

he's biting her inner thighs and sucking on her clit/dick (for all the lovely little sisters who have one) and just GRRRR ITS NOT FAIR HE'S NOT REAL!!! he tells her to "be a good girl and cum, cum in big brother's mouth" and i just... [reader]'s going to have to most intense orgasm ever because it's an absolute dream come true for her!!! probably passes out due to how hard she came... and it's only fair that she returns the favor when she wakes up, no? ;)

i can see the awkward and silent car rides with [reader] and her least/second favorite sibling. the empty space between that used to be filled with their bickering and laughs is just... quiet now. they ask her what's wrong and she just continues staring ahead of her until she lets out a silent, almost missable "i miss andrew/ashley..." i actually don't know how much more angst i can write until it becomes a full on oc/reader insert fic (man if only someone could write what they wanna see *looks in the mirror*)

ah... but thank you so much devious anon for adding ur brainworms to this blog, they have throughly burrowed their way into my head. and i dont want them to leave :) (*makes out sloppily with you*)

----

coff-in

[b0nten]

SI VIS AMARI, AMA

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ a simple night terror can shed light on one’s deepest fears. manjiro is no exception.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ mental breakdown, mentions of death, dead!reader, mentally unstable mikey. description of how reader died, description of death scar. i might have gotten a bit rusty so sorry for that. also not proofread. thank you @ask-the-insect-hashira for requesting, i hope it is to your liking <3

mikey’s days in manila are all the same. eat, sleep, stand around, repeat. every day is dull, filled with nothing but regret and the wait for takemichi to finally come; and today is no different. the sun shines brightly throughout the city, and the heat and his dreams are unbearable, as always. not even his spot in the deepest nook of the abandoned building brings comfort upon the ex-gang leader anymore.

his life is filled with misery, every day still waiting for death to knock on one of the concrete walls and take him to wherever — hell, the afterlife, his second life that’d probably end up a complete misery again — take him anywhere but leave him there, drowning in the darkness.

drowning in the burden he had brought upon himself. selfish to think in such way, he repeats to himself constantly,until his mind is full of more hatred and his heart is on the brink of failure thanks to the anguish, but even the great manjiro sano is allowed to suffer from time to time.

on days so slow he can count the people he’s hurt on his fingers for hours unending, there is one singular thing that makes him want to crawl out of his skin: you. the one the counting always seems to end with. it has always been this way. you were the last counted back in the day, during meetings, the last he had killed and the last he always thought about, even now, in the middle of the hot sun, leaned against a wall, asphyxiated in the ardor of regret.

his head starts spinning and maybe it’s because of the heat or because of how much he’s thought about you these past few days, but it’s excruciating. he loved you, he still does, he loves you from wherever you are but not so hard he could have let you go. he didn’t love you enough to not decapitate you or steal your necklace when he ran out of your apartment, he didn’t love you enough to let you start anew in the same life as him.

he spins the silver around in his hand. “i did love you, y/n.” he whispers, “i still do. i just did what i had to do. you know, d-duty comes first.”

on the last part, he chokes. he feels strange. he feels an emotion he hasn’t felt since that day.

“you wouldn’t be able to forgive me,” he starts again, “i took everything from you. you loved life, and you would have found a way to love it again, even after attending so many funerals, after so much pain, b-but..” the stutter comes and goes, just like his lucidity, “not without me, goddamn it!”

his head collapses in his palms and black strands tangle in his fingers, “but even with you dead, you’re all i think about!” his hiccups get messier and messier and his voice cracks with the deterioration of his conscience, “i see your eyes every. single. day. they haunt me, and i can’t get them to stop staring at me. i see them so much it makes me sick, i see them—”

“you do?”

a voice as gentle as the summer breeze has his heart melting with fear as a hand that he knows by heart lifts his chin up to look at her face.

he freezes, with every single fiber of his body coming undone in some sort of raw disbelief. she’s there, she’s in front of him. you’re there. you’re in front of him.

your hair shines bright and your eyes are the same perfect, glassy beads that he sees in his torment. you’re paler, but you’re beautiful. you’re as young as you were two summers ago, when you met and manjiro sano is declared to have officially lost his mind when he reaches for your cheek. he caresses it, he feels it, he cherishes it like on that last day. it’s cold, it’s almost ashy, it’s almost an illusion. but it’s there and it brings him the illusion of comfort he didn’t think he was worthy of anymore.

and in fear of losing all that he had left of you until now, he clutches the necklace even harder and pours his heart out in front of the angel that he had made with his own two hands. he spills over his darkest nightmares and sweetest dreams like you’re gonna make them disappear or materialize them right then and there, he swears on his life, on jesus christ, on every kami he can think of, he confesses his love like when you got hurt in a fight the first time, he lets himself shout for the first time in a while.

he’s irrational, pupils dilated and fixed on the otherworldly being that crouches in front of him silently, with the same soft smile that made his heart pound like crazy. he lets the same blown pupils travel across your body, how he’s missed seeing you whole, and when he gets from your feet to your neck, his entire being feels like it has erased itself out of existence.

a clean, reddish-blue scar parts your neck in half, and, without a doubt, he knows what it is. his fingers trace across it as he musters up the courage to say something.

“i-i did that?” he wants to punch himself for asking, because he knows the answer, and he repeats it in his head.

“yes, yes you did.” your eyelashes flutter softly when you respond and your muted lips twitch into a creepily comforting smile.

“i-i’m sorry, y/n. i really am. you know that, right? please tell me you know. please, don’t worry about me not being sorry for what i’ve done. i am. i am, every day of this miserable life that i’ve been living without you by my side, y/n.” he crashes into your chest and you greet him with open arms.

it’s almost like a ritual: he weeps, he swears, he promises, and you sit there tight, with the same smile on your face as your soft palms press him into your embrace.

“you wanted love, mikey.” you finally say, first thing that’s finally not an answer to anything. “i wanted to live, but you also wanted love.” his cries are harder and the tears stain trough your shirt into your jaded heart, “it doesn’t mean it’s okay, it’s not. but in order to be loved, you had to love. and you loved me in life and through death, and after.” you cup his face and look him in the eyes.

“i don’t hate you. i hate the way you had to love me in the end.”

although somewhat harsh, your words mirror the truth of mikey’s degeneration.

“i would’ve wanted you to not be selfish, and me to not be selfless, because my heart would have always longed for yours anyway.” you say again, and he looks up, “but i forgive you, because i still love you like the kids we still are.”

he can’t be sadder and happier at the same time. he cups your face, tears raining down his face.

“we’ll meet again, won’t we?” he asks, with the hope of a hopeless kid he’s had running through his blood since forever.

another reassuring smile and a sweet forehead kiss for your one and only calm him down.

“of course we will.”

and before he can say anything else you disappear in front of him and so does the last bit of sanity he had left.

his mind goes blank and his vision fuzzy and he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. his chest tightens and he feels every second passing by and him losing his mind. the world starts spinning with him and he feels a knot build up in his stomach

then, he wakes up. he is sweaty, and a bit dizzy. the bedsheets and his satin pillowcase are soaked. he looks around the room and finds what — who — he was looking for.

you’re there. you’re sleeping peacefully, tangled in the white linen. in a moment of confusion, he brushes your hair to the side. he sees your perfectly fine neck and his erratic heartbeat cools down.

now, he can sleep peacefully again.

[lingy910y]

Tag Game Wednesday 🧍‍♀️

tagged by @jrooc, @deedala, and @energievie 😍😍😍

name: ling

last song you listened to: girls chase boys by ingrid michaelson

artist on spotify giving you the feels right now: chappell roan…i’ve been listening to her since last week, thanks deanna :D

fave blorbo moment: https://youtu.be/pV1MZpPGfe8?si=KLyz3nUg-pxEMjiA

your guilty pleasure snack: this is hard cause i feel like i eat every snack the same amount—which is very few—but takis? they’re hot asf but i still like eating them

what food are you craving today: my mom said we’ll have boiled udon for dinner today, with tofu skin, wood ear, and beef (why does it sound so weird in english, i promise it tastes good 😭)

last fanfic tab you opened: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51279247

still in the process of reading it!

favorite fic project you created: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45081541

next tattoo you want (or would consider if you’re not a tattoo person): not a tattoo person, but i said i’d want a semicolon bc of that quote abt how your life hasn’t ended and you can instead add on

what’s living in your head rent free this week: serotonin from all the tags and compliments i received for both my gallacraft and galladrabble 🥰 i’ve reread each one at least 10 times now

tagging the lovelies @sleepyfacetoughguy, @too-schoolforcool, @vintagelacerosette, @lupeloto, @jademickian, @iansw0rld, @krystallouwho, @michellemisfit, @heymrspatel, @juliakayyy, @mmmichyyy, @softmick & @depressedstressedlemonzest

[hangeslefteye]

Okay so you officially converted me to a Porco lovergirl so thanks for that, I already went through like 95% of the Porco content and now we need to make more hahah. I saw your mafia AU post and would submit for your consideration:

And you are someone who takes care of Porco when he gets roughed up (poor guy can’t catch a break w the family? Or maybe he’s in an underground boxing ring for more cash?). But you doesn’t know what Porco does or that he’s involved in the mafia! You just knows that he’s kind of an ass lmao.

But maybe Porco bites off more than he can chew and he’s pissed off some important people. And he visits you (idk you work at a bookstore or a cafe or flower shop, something SO CLICHE but I love it) and when he gets there you’re talking to someone and

it’s Reiner

And his blood runs cold, or maybe his heart stops beating all together. And you’re just like “oh! Hey Porco! I’m just helping him find a book I’ll be right with you!”

And he’s frozen. Would the family really send Reiner to kill you, just to get back at him? Or is this a coincidence? A warning? And he realizes that he needs to do everything in his power to protect you at all costs

Aaaah this inspired me so much I had to write despite my terrible English I hope I did an alright job thanks @scumbagjaeger so much for this great idea <3 but I kindaaaa bended it when writing :D I hope you like it <3 Also Reiner kindaaaa stole the show :D

I listened LP-other people for 79678659 times when writing so it went kindaaa angsty :D

Characters:(Reader,Porco,Reiner,Marcel,Pieck)!Mafia au

Word count:1.2k

******

As the suffocating air of dust and smoke filled your lungs you bent down to pick up the broken pieces of glass,remembrance of the loud night in the now empty pub.You never knew why this place drowned you this much,especially today,so you picked up your pace to go home early.

But when you heard the squeaky sound of door opening you understood this wasn't happening.You yelled without lifting your head ''We are closing''to an unwanted customer but you heard the drunken steps making their way in anyways.

''Even for me?''

You instantly lifted your head up when you heard the familiar voice of Porco,a loyal customer of this old pub.

But when you looked up he looked nothing like the one you know.His clothings were disheveled and torn like he was attacked by a pack of wolves.Droplets of blood from his nose were making their way down to his chin,to his white shirt.Only familiar thing was his usual smirk as he held his arms open.

You sighed and got up hastily to pick him up.Considering he couldn't walk straight it was already a miracle that he managed to drag himself here.''Tough night?''you asked while you pulled him to an empty chair.''As usual''he hissed when he laid his head back.You knew his reckless apetite for fight nights ,he came to your place countless of times to get patched afterwards but he was never this beaten up before.

You wetted a clean towel and grabbed a bottle before you made your way back to almost dead man.You began to clean the blood dripping down his chin and neck in silence as he tried to light up a cigarette with his shaking hands.You snatched the cigarette and the lighter from his hands harsly.

You hated how he came here so often like a torn stray cat and none of you actually talked about it.You lighted the cigarette for yourself and took a deep breath.''Who did that to you?''you broke the silence while you kept cleaning the shreded skin on his cheekbone.

''Nobody in particular''

''Really?''

''Does that matter?''

''Does it?''you had a very solid guess.

''Not anymore''he mumbled and closed his eyes.

''They figured it out huh?''you asked casually but you were terrified of the answer.You were one of the two people that knew he was stealing from his 'family' for a while now but you doubted if it was always going to be that way.

''Wha- No! of course not.''he jolted awake as he understood what you meant.Even the possibility seemed to terrify him.

You sighed in relief and held his head to lay it back to the chair.''İf they did they wouldn't let me inhale an another breath anyways.''he smiled bitterly.

You couldn't stand seeing him like this let alone him casually talking about his death?This was your last sanity.''Then who else Porco? Who else have you allowed to beat you up like this?!''you yelled with your trembling voice while you waved the bloody towel to his face.

He opened his mouth to speak up but closed it back again so you gave up and kept cleaning the remaining blood on his eyebrow silently but you were stopped after a while when he suddenly gripped your wrists harsly.You expectantly looked back at his squinted hazel eyes.

''Marcel''he managed to drag out in between his gritted teeth.

Your eyes grew big with shock.Marcel?Of all people?His brother that sabotaged both Porco and the 'family' so his little brother won't be a soldier?

A dagger sank into your heart with realisation.You were hearing rumors about both Porco and Marcel crushing on the same escort,Pieck.You never had the courage to ask if it was true or not but now the crystal clear truth was right before your eyes.

''I'll kill him until dawn''

You snapped back to Porco instantly.His once dreamy hazel eyes were filled with grudge and rage now.

''He'll know I was always better than him.Everybody will know''he gulped a sob that was about to escape from his lips but his tears were already rolling from his cheeks.

You looked at him dumbfoundedly as he kept repeating 'I'll kill him' like he was trying to convince himself to do it,all while he unconsciously kept gripping your wrists hard enough to hurt.But you were too gone to feel anything as your heart sunk with jealousy when you thought of the reason that made everything so miserable.

Afterall Porco really was a stray cat.When things were alright he went to whoever he loved the most but when he was hurt he always came back to you,who loved him the most.Realisation of your love was never going to be returned began to burn your eyes.

Your thoughts were silenced by a thundering noise while you felt something passing by your ear.Before you understood what's going on you were knocked onto ground by Porco.

You acknowledged the gunshots and unpredictable bullets as they kept coming.You heard Porco's panicked curses among the sound of bullets tearing down the bar behind you two.Glass pieces were raining down onto Porco's back as the bottles got smashed into crumbs.

When the firing stopped you barely heard Porco saying''Are you alright?!''but when he realised you were too shaken to answer he roamed his hands around your upper body to make sure you were not wounded.Finally you gave him a shaky ''Y-yeah''but you were anything but alright.His eyes snapped back to where bullets were coming from.

Following his direction you saw a tall blonde man dressed up in black.He had two silvery pistols.He took his black goggles off when he made his way down the stairs and you saw his cold amber eyes shining.

''Looks like I've missed''he said casually as he looked you two up and down.

You looked back to see some bullets stuck into the wall behind and broken bottles of whatever.The entire place looked like someone blasted a hand generade inside.He shot anything but you two.

''Braun?! What the fuck were you doing?!''You fully came back to your senses when you heard Porco's scream.

''Business,as usual''

''By killing us!?''

''Exactly''

With his last word your blood ran cold, you figured out this is what they have done to other strays.

''They know Porco''blond man kept talking since Porco was frozen on the spot.''They sent me here to kill you''

''How?''you heard the tremble in Porco's voice as he waited for the expected answer.

''Marcel told them''

You saw Porco's bitter smile right before he closed his eyes.As if he wasn't the same guy from five minutes ago that kept talking about killing his own brother.Marcel actually making a move to kill him seemed to shock him as much as it did to you.

''What happened to your no women no kids policy?''he asked casually like he has embraced his incoming death.

''No women if not specified''blonde man corrected him sharply.

''What do you mean asshole?Why would they want her dead too?!''Porco opened his eyes in anger and looked back at you.

''Well,actually it was only her when I came here.Since they thought you would be out of city already.''

''What makes them think so?''

''Me''he said firmly as he glanced at Porco, you could see his amber eyes shining with a feral warning. ''And you did,with her.You passed the city border at midnight and nobody saw you ever since.''you saw him smashing one of his guns onto his chest.Porco's eyes grew big before he nodded and took the silvery pistol like a scolded kid.İt was a silent agreement inbetween him and his reaper.

He hastily walked back to you to get you up and held your arm as he dragged you to the backdoor.

''Let's get out of here''you heard him mumbling when he opened the door for you two stray cats now.

For mentioned mafia au (All aot characters)

[amaiguri]

Happy WBW! I’ve seen you mention the war between the North and South of your world a few times. So I started to get curious (>v<) What was the war about and what were some of the major events?

Zebee, I've been saving this one cuz let me tell you... I just made a YouTube video about this :DDDD

https://youtu.be/FM6axVXcUik?si=ShnZH1fsAfTPgxso

But for a tl;dw -- here's the actual conversation I just wrote between Diacaius and Arlasaire:

Di: Ah, we’re making wishes, Arlasaire… Let’s light them up!

He struck his sparkcandle against the ground. I followed. It lit in a burst of unnatural magentas and reds and blues and green. A chill settled into me and my skin tightened. I didn’t dare breathe. I’d blow out the candle and the moment would end.

Di: Are you alright?

I was perfect.

Ar: …It’s so beautiful here…

Di: It certainly is, isn’t it?

The sparks whirled down the bronze wire like the spin of a dozen children with sparkcandles. A dozen children with sparkcandles who wouldn’t set fire to anyone, if the day went right. In Thuille, they’d have been launched through someone’s windows by now.

Ar: …How did your people ever go to war?

Diacaius drew his candle before him. Like a blade. Or a prayer. He sighed.

Di: …When I was young, if you can believe it, the Senate was demilitarizing. I was in the army briefly… and then… You might be too young to know about it, but it was eighteen years ago, I think, the Demons besieged Telethens. They raped and pillaged and destroyed… most of the Northern Docks. And it was clear, even after they left, they had every intention of coming back. I think that’s when all this started.

Ar: Northern Demons or Southern ones?

Di: Northern Demons — I mean, this is the siege where little Princess Astaroh was conceived. And of course, it was this siege that gave the last Inquisition the power it holds today.

Astaroh had been a product of the siege. This I knew. But I had never considered how the Telethenians would have seen it. Before the war, they hadn’t been real to me.

Di: It was about this time that I proposed the Philosopher King Revival Project. After all, this was an enemy far stronger than us with powers we could not understand.

House d’Magnia’s intelligence network always knew about the golem’s revival. They knew it had almost broken the world once. They knew it could break the world again.

Di: And then… we received calls for aid from the Selkie Isles — that, and the Inquisition needed to do something with all its power. And so, we went. Some of the Selkies were keen to learn our technologies and to adopt our democratic systems… but not all of them were so keen.

Ar: And they asked the North for help.

Di: So they did.

And then, the War. The Annihilation of Aonen Qiao. The Fall of Thuille. I imagined it all in flashes like the sparks of my candle.

Di: And the rest, as they say, is history.

Thanks for the Ask, again! I'm so excited for you to see this :D

[monin1ca]

Hello! This is my first ever request so sorry if its a little wonky.

I really liked the fics about Valorant agent being your older sibling, especially the Chamber one, would it be possible to do fic about older brother Chamber with younger ftm brother? Their parents don't really support them and would be pretty dysphoric all the time.

Thank you so much in advance :D

Word count: 610 Warnings: Angst, Unsupportive Parents, Abuse, Reader is Trans (FTM), Cursing, Hints of Dead Naming (Instead of D/N (dead/name), I chose to use [Redacted])

Synopsis: “She’s covering all her mirrors! What a disgrace; just what is she hiding from?!”

You felt uncomfortable under your own skin, Vincent could tell.

Your parents hated you after that faithful day you came out. Saying you didn’t want to be a girl anymore and be something more “you.” They brushed you off, laughing loudly. Claiming it’s just a “phase,” but they snapped when they saw your dead-serious face. Shouting profanities, followed by your mom slapping you to the ground. “I knew it. You’ve been hanging out too much with those disgusting gays! No wonder you’ve acted so differently! To your room now!”

“Mama?... Papa?...”

Vincent’s shaking voice rang through the room; he saw your trembling figure on the ground. A red handprint freshly imprinted on your cheek, combined with tears running down your face. Your brother came home; he finished the compulsory Military training that your parents signed him up for. His face contorted to a disgusted one, piecing together what had happened. You had been sending him letters, telling him about how you felt. “Get up, go to your room and wait for me.” Vincent’s expressionless face and trembling body ushered you up, giving you a soft push to go upstairs. You run for your room, accidentally knocking over your family portraits. Though, at this point, you didn’t care. You curled into a ball and hugged your pillow as tight as you could. Hoping this would end quickly, but it didn’t. The thin walls of this house couldn’t silence the raging voices arguing downstairs.

“She’s covering all her mirrors! What a disgrace; just what is she hiding from?!”

You hear your mother screech at Vincent.

“For your information, it’s ‘he.’”

The latter's voice was calm, but you could tell it was holding back boiling venom.

“Ayiah, Vin! Not you too! She needs to learn to be who she is! Not some freak that wants to dress up as a boy.”

You could feel something snap in your brother.

“He’s not playing pretend, mama! He feels this way! Et si vous ne l'acceptez pas ? Eh bien, nous allons partir. (And if you dont accept him? Well, we're going to leave.)”

The house stills. Then you hear sobs from your mother, you hear a chair grind against the floor. Signaling someone stood up, presumably your father. 

“Aller! Partez alors. N'embêtez plus ma famille, je ne vous vois plus comme faisant partie des "Fabrons". (Go! Leave then. Trouble my family no more, I don't see you as a part of the "Fabrons.”)”

Your mother gasps, 

“Mon amour, qu'en est-il de [Redacted] et Vincent ? Que sommes-nous censés dire à la famille à leur sujet ? (My love, what about [Redacted] and Vincent? What are we supposed to tell the family about them?)”

You hear heavy footsteps storm off, thumping toward your room. You rub your eyes, praying to the heavens above it was Vincent. Thankfully, it was him. He had a sweet smile on his face, “Mon ange, prépare tes affaires, yes? On va quelque part et on ne revient jamais. (Angel, pack your things, yeah? We're going somewhere and never coming back.)”

You were more than ok with that, relieved to leave this shit hole of a home.

Author’s Note: ARGH, IM SO SORRY TO ALL THE TRANS PEOPLE WHO READ THIS SHIT. IT’S THE FIRST TIME I WROTE FOR THIS TYPE OF CONTENT! FEAR NOT THERE'S A PART TWO I SWEAR I’LL DO BETTER (headcanon version this time huhuhuhu)… PLEASE FORGIVE ME :((

[whumpcloud]

Tea With Honey

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @gala1981 @whump-in-the-moonlight @ohwhumpydays @morning-star-whump

content: sickfic, fever, references to creepy/intimate whump, (lady) whumper forced to be caretaker, pills (painkillers)

Of course he caught it from Nicolas. Ophelia doesn't get why her brother is like that with Derian, and mostly she doesn't care, except that it means he won't leave Derian alone, and inevitably this was going to happen.

Except that Nicolas is tired and coughing, and Derian is feverish.

Nicolas snorts through the phone. "I spoiled you."

"Stop being a dick and-!" Ophelia lowers her voice when Derian whimpers. "Just tell me what to do."

"The internet is free."

"As if you would fucking know."

"I use email."

"I had to teach you how!"

"Not the point. You'll figure it out, baby sister."

He's lucky she can't see the smug, teasing smirk she knows is on his face. Ophelia groans in frustration and hangs up on him. Fine, she'll figure it out alone. She feels Derian pulling at her sleeve, whining softly, and it sounds piercing.

"Look, just-" Ophelia exhales. It's not his fault that he's sick. "Relax, okay? I'll get you some water."

Derian clutches at the blankets. He wants to peel off his sweat-coated skin, but more importantly he wants comfort, and in a state like this he can convince himself, just a little, that a pillow or a blanket is a person.

"Stop doing that, you're already overheating-" Ophelia almost growls at him when he tries to snatch the blankets back. "Give me-!"

"Please," Derian whispers, and it isn't even pathetic in a fun way. It's just pathetic. "Please, I d-don't care. Please, p-please."

"Jesus, fine." Ophelia feels… bad. Derian holds the blankets crushingly tight to his chest. "Come on, sit up."

She has to help him up, and it isn't as though she hasn't done it a dozen times, but it's so utterly pitiful that she can't bring herself to enjoy how weak he is.

His hands shake too much to hold the glass, so she sighs, but holds it to his mouth, and lets him tip as much as he can drink down his throat.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"Stay like that," she says. "I'm gonna… figure out what to do."

"You… don't know?" Frowning hurts.

"Nicky deals with all this stuff!"

"L-Lower your voice, please," Derian rasps.

"Sorry."

Derian's head falls back against the headboard. He needs to think, as hard as it is, and presses his clammy hands to his face.

"Tylenol," he mumbles. "You've got some in the bathroom cabinet. White bottle with the red label."

Ophelia struggles with the child lock. It would be funnier if Derian wasn't desperate for some kind of pain relief. He can feel all his joints when he moves.

He swallows the pills dry, rubs his eyes, breathes out. "Thanks."

Ophelia fidgets. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Derian shakes his head, immediately regretting it when his vision swims. "Fuck."

"Can you walk?"

"If you'll hold me up." It's half a joke.

He didn't actually expect her to grab him under the arms and pull him to his feet. She takes no care dragging him down the stairs, his feet limply hitting every step on the way down. He just succumbs to this now. Even when Ophelia tries to be gentle, which is an oddly increasing amount as of late, she never quite manages it.

She sets him down on the sofa, and the sudden drop makes everything spin. The world feels like a sauna. He raises a hand to try to pull his sweat-damp hair from his skin, and can only weakly brush it back a little before he's overtaken by a coughing fit.

During it, Ophelia returns with the blankets, and tries to lay them over him. Derian doesn't have the energy to even wonder what she's doing when she disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes and comes back with a mug.

"It's tea," she says, holding it out to him. "With honey."

He eyes it.

"I haven't put anything else in it, if that's what you're thinking." She shakes it a little, and some of it spills over the side. "Take it."

It's warm, but a comforting warm, and Derian takes a small sip and holds it in his lap. He blearily watches Ophelia wrestle with the television, a banged-up thing so old that you could plug headphones into it, and then brush the dust from the DVD player.

"What are you doing?" Derian asks.

"Putting on a movie." Ophelia pulls one from the shelf. "Oh. Do you like action movies?"

"They're okay."

"Cool." She shoves it into the player. "It's my favourite movie. Nicky always made me tea with honey and watched it with me when I got sick."

"Is… is this you trying to be nice?" Derian sips the tea again, to keep down the coughs.

Ophelia gives a very non-committal shrug. Is she trying to be nice? She feels bad for him, but on some level it's only because she isn't the one hurting him. If she had gotten sick and he'd caught it, she'd probably laugh at him.

Derian knows that too. But frankly, he doesn't mind. Her awkward arm around his shoulder is better than nothing. Better than Nicolas.

"You're going to spill it," Ophelia says.

Derian tips the mug the other way, hands still shaking, and resolves to just lean down to drink instead of lifting the mug up.

[circe007]

Thanks for your opinion @emarasmoak 🙏, @morgothism ,@helenvader , @drartslog I imagined that he must have fought a dragon, or Balrog, hence all the wounds that marked him in his flesh and in his armor. I understand that he and his Uruk children had passed through a place where dragons live (sorry, I'm not erudite enough to remember all the names).Which would explain the costumes of the Uruk in dragon skin. it's just an idea, tossed in the air, just like that. Adar having certain values ​​and coming from a fallen nobility, I cannot imagine him stealing the armor of another at all.He let Arondir go when he could have killed him with a snap of his finger. He recognized the soldier and the courage of this elf and, therefore, gave him a second chance. Especially since the armor is burned, just like him. As if it were his second skin. His (mysterious) story is engraved on his flesh and on his armor. Hence my question, what is powerful enough to burn Mithril, supposed to be almost invincible. Thank you for your insightful analysis.

Merci pour votre avis @emarasmoak 🙏, @morgothism ,@helenvader , @drartslog J'imaginais qu'il devait avoir combattu un dragon, ou Balrog, d'où toutes les blessures qui l'ont marqué dans sa chair et dans son armure. Je comprends que lui et ses enfants Uruk étaient passés par un endroit où vivent des dragons (désolé, je ne suis pas assez érudit pour retenir tous les noms). Ce qui expliquerait les costumes des Uruk en peau de dragon. c'est juste une idée, lancée en l'air, juste comme ça. Adar ayant certaines valeurs et issu d'une noblesse déchue, je ne l'imagine pas du tout voler l'armure d'un autre. Il a laissé partir Arondir alors qu'il aurait pu le tuer d'un claquement de doigt. Il a reconnu le soldat et le courage de cet elfe et lui a donc donné une seconde chance. D'autant plus l armure est brûlée, tout comme lui. Comme si c'était sa seconde peau. Son histoire (mystérieuse) est gravée sur sa chair et sur son armure. D'où ma question, qu'est-ce qui est assez puissant pour brûler du Mithril, censé être quasiment invincible. Merci pour votre analyse perspicace.

Please forgive my syntax and spelling errors, I am absolutely not bilingual.

Veuillez pardonner mes fautes de syntaxe, d orthographe, je ne suis absolument pas bilingue

Do you have a theory on the burns of Adar, as well as his armor, his chain mail (which seems to be Mithril therefore almost indestructible).

Morgoth's wrath?

Your opinions are welcome

Est ce que vous auriez une théorie sur les brûlures d'Adar, ainsi que son armure, sa cotte de maille ( qui semble être du Mithril donc quasi indestructible).

La colère de Morgoth ?

[myamazingsims]

@simblrsimplyforfun Challenge 9 with @thecuriousclementine :)

For today’s mixing sims, I mixed Schuyler Blake with my... um... interesting-looking YA version of the old Maximilian, haha. The baby actually looked super cute at first sight, but then I changed the hair and added some make-up, and I then realized I had to move some sliders. But the result is still adorable!!!

[milkywaybottles]

hello! i’m new to the ghost fandom and i’m loving your blog so far! i was wondering if i could request headcanons of papa emeritus III (terzo) or cardinal copia (it doesn’t matter which one) with a s/o that’s almost doll like? their skin is soft and reflective as a porcelain doll, glossy eyes, they barley blink which freaks people out a lot and barley speaks as well, only talks on occasions. they try to stay as still as possible or try to do things in an “elegant” way. they wear beautiful gothic clothing. in general they freak a lot of people out by how doll like they are but to papa they’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. no rush on the request! i hope you have a lovely day today! :D

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

OH. MY. SATAN. (I love the aesthetic of your blog btw) I love this and haven't stopped thinking about this request since I saw it. I had been dancing around the idea of how to do it justice and I think I've come up with something. Thank you for the request, my dear. Hopefully, it does do it justice. I couldn't decide which Papa to do so I did them both.

Much love xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Papas (Terzo and Copia) x Gothic gn!neutral Reader Headcanons!

Papa Emeritus III (Terzo):

Ever since he was small, he had an obscure fascination with dolls and their beauty

Thus, when he found his s/o, who not only had a lovely personality but had an elegant poise, he found himself quickly head over heels in love with them.

Terzo had been with many people in his life and he had yet to find someone who could match his gothic ways until you came along. You honestly stood as competition to him because of his nature as a diva. Originally, he had felt threatened by your allure and much like a cat with its fur raised, all alarm bells sounded in his mind when he saw you walking in the halls of the ministry for the first time.

Though, Terzo soon realised that this precious jewel of a person required closer inspection.

Many members of the clergy found you freakish, despite their beliefs, and Terzo often gets defensive whenever a strange look is passed your way or a mumble is uttered while you walk past. "Hey! Stop staring at them! Stare at your Papa, si?", which causes you to let out a refined and shy giggle. You know he doesn't mean it maliciously, of course, his intentions are clear to protect you from many uncomfortable stares.

One of his favourite activities to do with you is to take you out for a stroll with your favourite black-laced parasol out in the garden. Once the sun begins to peek through the clouds, you retire inside and collapse inside each other's legs while reading a book (Terzo more begrudgingly if anything, but willing nevertheless)

He didn't care what anyone thought of you, you were his, and he was yours.

Cardinal Copia (Copia):

Copia, on the other hand, was a little confused initially but he definitely had the spirit.

When he laid eyes on you for the first time, his jaw was on the floor, admiring all your porcelain qualities and your stunning clothing. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He fumbled and had absolutely no idea how to approach you. And it stayed this way for a long time. You both would share skewed glances in the hallways but nothing more beyond a polite "Hello, how are you doing?"

Eventually, he plucked up the nerve to ask you out with a bouquet of crimson roses and black dahlias (to which you obviously said yes to)

Copia was under the impression that many of your date activities were very much confined to your aesthetic, and because in public, you rarely spoke, he found it difficult to communicate with you.

The Ministry housed a large dining room with an ebony elongated table, surrounded by vintage chairs. He often took you in to dine, but the only problem was that you were at opposite ends of the table and it felt as though you were a world away. After roughly a week of dining in awkward silence, as he drank his red wine, you brought your chair all the way to his end of the table, causing him to flush with embarrassment and realisation.

This communication barrier was quickly overcome after this in private, "We do not need to do something fancy and dark every time, darling. I appreciate it beyond belief, but I like cuddling and spending the night in too"

Now, he practices a perfect balance of both and aspires to create a dynamic like that of Morticia and Gomez Addams.

He often enjoys going on walks with you as well, taking your arm in his and holding your gentle hand to his lips, moustache tickling your fingers.

You were his beautiful bella

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───