#Just to like... explain where I disappeared to

[artificial-transmutations]

Grunt Force Gamer

Friday evening, finally. After a rather stressful week at the office, Finn was looking forward to his favorite past-time activity, which was blasting through the missions of *Duty Force Alpha* with his buddies. He was a bit surprised though when he logged into the voice server to find only one of his teammates there, even though he was the one who was late.

"Hey Beck! Sorry I'm late. Where is everyone?" he asked.

Beck was the newest addition to the team and had only joined a few weeks ago, bringing them up to five guys, or a whole squad.

"Let's see..." the other guy answered.

"Joey has to help a friend to move, so he is out for tonight. Alex has to prepare a presentation for his work on Monday. And I haven't heard from Dave at all."

Finn groaned.

"So, probably girl trouble again." Dave had a history of disappearing without any trace for a couple of days, only to emerge again a few days later and explaining that he was on a date. It never seemed to work out in the long term, though.

"Anyway. What about you?"

"I'm game. Looks it's just the two of us tonight." said Beck, and Finn could vividly imagine the cocky grin of the other guy, even though their cams were off right now. Finn agreed and started up the game but couldn't stop his heart from beating faster. The thing about Beck was that he wasn't just the newest member of their team or a cool guy to hang out with. Beck was *also* rather hot, especially for a gamer, and every time he spoke, his voice alone was enough to send a chill down Finn's spine. In short, Finn had a hard crush on the other man, and the prospect of spending the evening alone with him - even though it was just digital proximity - was both exciting and frightening to him.

The trouble was: Finn knew borderline nothing about Beck at all. He knew they lived in the same city and his first name, but that was about it. He had no idea if Beck was into guys or if he was single - which Finn could hardly imagine either way - or what his type was. And, of course, he was way too shy to actually ask him.

Just as Finn logged onto the game server, Beck spoke up again.

"Ah fuck, I've got to go AFK for a few minutes again, sorry."

"Sure, no problem. I'll go get a snack as well."

Finn muted his microphone, but instead of going to the kitchen, he was quickly distracted by a message from the game, announcing a change in skill trees. As he was reading the patch notes, however, after some moments, he heard a strange noise from his headset. It sounded a bit like a quiet slapping sound, and while he was still trying to identify what it was, a faint moan reached his ears.

Oh. *Oh*! Finn froze as his brain connected the dots. Beck hadn't gone AFK in a broader sense. Well, his hands probably were off the keyboard, but...

His mind was racing, and his own cock was twitching. Beck was *jerking off* right now, and he had forgotten to mute his microphone. What now? He couldn't just sit here and listen to his teammate beat his meat, right? Perhaps he should give him some privacy and go get that snack.

On the other hand,... imagining the lean Beck stroking himself, probably watching some porn in his gaming chair was pretty hot, and Finn felt his own cock strain against his pants. He double checked his own microphone. Muted. Good. Finn felt his heart beating in his throat as he slowly fondled himself, not quite masturbating but listening to the increasingly labored breaths of his crush on the voice channel. He wondered what he was watching...

Suddenly, a coarse whisper joined the jerking noises and the moans.

"Oh yeah. Show me those big guns, Sarge. I bet your sexy biceps are so much bigger than your brain... Well, I wouldn't mind..."

No way! Beck wasn't just rubbing one out to a random porn video, but instead he was drooling over one of the game characters, Sarge, the meathead heavy type of the game.

But that meant...

Disappointment set in shortly after euphoria. Yes, that meant Beck was gay. But it also meant he preferred the more or less exact opposite of what Finn had to offer. He was a smart guy with a rather unimpressive physique - quite the contrast to Sarge, who was basically a meat mountain. In fact, Finn's character in *Duty Force Alpha* was the exact opposite of Sarge. It was a character class called 'Engineer', whose main feature was to build turrets to shoot down enemies.

But these were just game characters, right? A fantasy. Perhaps Beck didn't have those expectations in real life? Well, there was no way he would be able to ask him, not without giving away that he listened in on his masturbation session.

As if on cue, Beck was moaning loudly now, and with an almost grunting noise, the slapping stopped. He had finished, and Finn was hard. It took only a few seconds until the sound of his breath was gone, replaced by his normal voice.

"Hey, Finn. Did you get that snack?"

Finn decided to wait for two more minutes before unmuting his own microphone to keep up the charade.

"I'm back. Are you there, Beck?"

"Yeah, sorry man, I had to take care of something first. Anyway, let's get going!"

Taking care of something. You could say that. Beck chose his usual sniper character as if nothing had happened and Finn's mouse hovered over the engineer, but he hesitated. He knew Beck's fantasies rather well now. Perhaps if he tried to act a bit simpler... He clicked.

"No way! You're playing Sarge? What happened to your engi?" Beck's voice was surprised.

"Well, I..."

Finn cleared his throat, remembering that Beck apparently had the hots for the simple men.

"Heh, yeah, figured I'd mix things up a bit. These guys seem pretty... capable. And we need a bit of meat shield if it's just the two of us."

Adjusting his pattern of speech to what he thought was simple and cool was harder than expected. He found himself tripping over words more often than not, but if that had any effect on the other guy, he didn't show it immediately. He didn't ask further questions about his choice of character and the two of them went on their way, starting the first mission.

At first, Finn tried to play tactically, as he was used to by his engineer, but after half a mission, he reconsidered. Not only was Sarge simply not built for this playstyle, but he figured Beck would be more into another approach. So, he changed strategies completely and just charged into the enemies head-first and with blazing guns. This worked out remarkably well, and soon, Finn was having actual fun behaving like the meathead he was pretending to be. He even threw in a few grunts and battle cries for good measure that seemed to amuse Beck a lot.

"Sounds like someone is having fun with his new class!" he laughed after a particularly successful attack.

"Yeah. I'm just here to shoot and look pretty. No need to think of anything. Leave that to the smart guys. Like you. All I need is my guns."

The bit of boldness probably came from all the adrenalin, but it was getting easier to get into character now. In any case, Beck didn't seem to mind.

"Awesome man! So, what do you do when you're not gaming? Hit the gym much?"

Finn froze and almost got hit by an enemy assault as a consequence. Fuck! This was the first time Beck showed any interest in his personal life. But the honest answer to that would be 'no, never', clearly not what Beck wanted to hear. Against better judgment he had to lie.

"Uh... yeah, sometimes. Gotta stay in shape, y'know?", hoping that Beck would buy it.

"Nice! Hey, why don't you turn on your cam, show me those gains."

Crap. They sometimes played with their webcams on, that's how Finn knew how Beck looked like. However, since he had been sick and didn't want to turn on his own camera last time, Beck had not seen him before. And that was the only reason his bluff earlier could have worked.

"I don't know, I didn't clean my place..." he tried to evade, but it was no use.

"Aww, come on, man."

Beck had already turned on his camera and smiled into the lens, and Finn could see the handsome face he often dreamed of at night. That was, of course, too much for Finn to resist, and he turned on his camera, too, with a beating heart, expecting Beck to call him out on his lie.

But instead, Beck nodded approvingly.

"Yeah, nice. I can see your progress. You're looking pretty fit, man."

Finn just stared at the monitor for a moment. Given, the lighting wasn't all that good, but how on earth would Beck think he was looking *fit*? He inspected his own miniature image on the screen. Okay, yes, the shadows of the badly lit battle station worked in his favor here. With some fantasy, you could probably make out definition that Finn knew very well wasn't there in reality. Perhaps, Beck was just being polite.

"Uh, thanks." he said, before quickly adding "... bro." for the effect.

He felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps he would be really able to pull this off!

With the cams still on, he charged into the next pack of enemies, and watched Beck lean back into his gaming chair, giving Finn a good view of his own somewhat toned chest under his t-shirt.

"So, you got a girlfriend, Finn? Or are you more of a player?"

Fuck, more questions. His first impulse was to lie again, but no! If he wanted to have a shot with the other guy, he *had* to be honest here. He swallowed hard and answered with his eyes still lingering on Beck, trying to read his body language.

"N-no girlfriend. I'm... uh... not really into chicks."

That came out a lot less confident than he hoped. There was no sign of animosity in Beck, and even though thinking was somehow getting harder, rationally, Finn knew it was a good opportunity to ask him the same, exposing Becks own orientation. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, so he chickened out and tried to change the subject.

"Anyway, did I tell you about this thing that happened at work the other day? I totally saved our asses by-"

He stopped again, suddenly remembering that he's supposed to play dumb.

"Uh, I mean, I dunno, it was pretty boring office stuff. Who cares about that shit, right?"

At least the lingo came a lot more naturally by now, and sometimes, Finn had to remind himself that it was a role he was playing. It was, right?

Beck raised an eyebrow, looking curious.

"Office stuff? Didn't know you worked in an office, Finn. Thought you were more of a hands-on kind of guy."

Shit! what a slip-up.

"Uh... yeah, uh... I actually am. I'm..."

Fuck, thinking was *hard*. He had to come up with something here, but his mind drew a blank until he looked back at the screen.

"... a soldier. Yeah, I'm in the army."

"Wait, you're a soldier? For real?"

Beck sounded impressed but Finn's heart was racing as he realized what he just said. But he couldn't back down now.

"Uh, yeah, that's right," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Been in the army for a couple years now."

Beck looked impressed. "No shit? That's awesome, man! But what were you doing in an office then?"

Shit, lying was *hard*. Now he had to come up with another one, and fast.

"I... uhm... Oh, right. I was actually applying for a new job, at a private security firm. Y'know, with all the political bullshit goin' on, a lot of us are lookin' to get out and find somethin' else."

That was believable. A lot of people didn't want to stay in the army with a president like that. Heck, that's why *he* was looking for another job, right?

Wait, but wasn't that part of the lie? Finn's confusion grew and he barely registered Beck's answer:

"Yeah, I hear ya."

Finn scratched his head, trying to clear his mind. Thinking had never been his strong point - or has it? However, he was quickly distracted again by a weird feeling. As he had raised his arm, his shirt felt... tight. Constricting even. Hardly believing what he felt, he looked down at his own body and felt his solid pecs through his t-shirt. No, they weren't just solid. They were *large*. Large enough to stretch the fabric of his clothing and to limit his movements. Suddenly, he was aware of his other muscles, too. His arms were far bigger than they should be. Or was that right? Wasn't that why he went to the gym every day?

"Damn Finn, I never realized how built you are." Beck’s voice interrupted his slow train of thoughts and Finn could see Beck subconsciously licking his lips at the sight.

Something was wrong here, somehow.

"I... uh... I need to piss." he declared, the crude language coming all natural now.

He almost forgot to take off his headset and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing his face with water. The man who was staring back at him from the mirror was... not him. There was a certain similarity, of course, but *this* Finn was looking all different. He stripped down to his underwear to see better and was greeted by a much more massive body than before: a six-pack, bulging biceps, pecs, and all. His hair was also shorter than it used to be, and his features overall looked more rugged and less nerdy. He was a whole new, hot and handsome version of his former self. Even his face had squared up, and his jawline was much stronger. And his underwear... It looked positively *stuffed*, like he had pushed a sock in there. But he knew that wasn't the case. No, this was *his* package, the outline of his own cock pressing against the fabric, and it was a lot more than he remembered.

Finn stared at his reflection, and the reflection stared back. Something was wrong, but the fog around his brain was only getting denser.

Right, that was it. His big fingers brushed against his stubbly beard. He didn't shave, that's what was wrong here. Without a second thought, he grabbed the razor and started working on his upper lip, his chin and even his chest, until he was presentable again. It was only a few swipes, and once he was finished, he was satisfied with his work. Better.

He grabbed his clothes from the ground and didn't realize they, too, had changed into a pair of large olive cargo shorts and a white tank top.

"Yo, I'm back. Did I miss any action?"

He grinned for the camera and Beck shook his head.

"Cool!"

He readjusted his crotch and got back to playing, occasionally exchanging a joke with Beck. The game was getting really fun. Finn was blasting through enemy ranks without any consideration for strategy anymore. He was a simple guy now, and simple guys didn't need that kind of thing.

After an especially hard boss fight, he yanked his fist up in the air in triumph.

"Hell yeah! Did you see that?"

Beck laughed. "Yeah, I did, Finn. You were a beast out there."

Beck's praise gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

"Thanks man. One sec."

Without a second thought he pulled off his headset, followed by his tank top, leaving him bare-chested in front of his PC.

"Better. It's getting hot in here."

"Wow, you can say that... Holy shit!"

Beck’s eyes looked like they are about to pop out of his head. "You been hidin' that bod all this time? Damn, you look amazing!" The lust in his voice is clearly audible by now.

"Thanks, man. Just thought I'd get comfortable, y'know?" Finn grinned and ran a hand over his chiseled chest, feeling powerful and sexy. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Right, wanted to ask ya, since we're bein' honest and all... you got a girl? Or maybe you're into dudes like me?" He didn't get why he couldn't have asked that earlier, it really wasn't that hard, was it? Heh, hard.

Beck's cheeks flush slightly but he grins. "Yeah, I swing for the other team too, Finn. Never found a chick who could handle all this."

He gestured to his own, rather toned body, which wasn't quite as impressive as the one Finn was sporting now, bringing Finn to smirk in acknowledgement.

"Well, if you wanna get more comfortable too, feel free to lose the shirt, man. Unless you're scared to show me up."

Beck chuckled, reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Scared? Please, I'll put your buff ass to shame!"

The two of them continue to play, now with their shirts off, and their banter becomes increasingly flirty. Finn was enjoying the attention, and it was obvious that Beck was enjoying the view as well. However, after two more missions, Beck noticed a sudden drop in his teammate’s performance.

"Dude, what's up? You're playin' like shit all of a sudden." he teased, while his eyes remained glued to the difficult situation.

However, after hearing the grunted answer from Finn, he immediately looked up to the video stream again.

"It's... hard to play with one hand, y'know?"

Beck's mouth fell open as he saw Finn, grinning, with one hand still on the controller and the other tightly wrapped around the massive hard cock he had fished out of his underwear and was stroking slowly, all while maintaining eye contact with Beck.

"Woah, dude. You're... You're jackin' off right now? While we're gaming?"

Finn just grinned broader before his hazy mind produced an idea. Instead of the controller, he took his phone in his hand and typed a bit, all while slowly continuing to work his cock. Beck didn't have to wait long for the mystery to resolve itself, though, as his own phone buzzed.

"That's my address," Finn growled, his voice deep and commanding. "Get your fine ass over here and I'll show you what this soldier can really do."

"I... I'll be there in 10 minutes." Beck promises, his own voice coarse with arousal.

The last thing he saw before his webcam switched off was a lewd grin on Finn's new face.

Hey, sorry for the long silence! I've had some stressful time at work, but now I'm back writing!

[misaerabl]

Pierced

CONTENT: wc…3.7k ✦ vampire reader x vampire hunter vi, vi being a good girl for reader teehee, biting, tit-sucking, a lot of sexual tension, vi calls reader a monster, reader calls vi a good girl (multiple times), vi was drinking a bit but she's still completely sober and aware, bloodsucking (not proofread at all, SORRY) SUMMARY: Vi has spent years hunting you, a vampire as beautiful as you are dangerous. She swore to put an end to your existence, yet every encounter ended the same—you taunting her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. But tonight is different?

She had been hunting you for years.

Vi didn’t know when it became an obsession—when the chase stopped being just about duty and started sinking its claws into something deeper, something darker. At first, it was simple: a vampire terrorizing the city, leaving behind bodies drained and discarded. A job for a hunter like her. But then she saw you.

Demonizingly beautiful. Unholy in the way that no creature should be. A face carved by something cruel, something that wanted to see men—and hunters—fall to their knees. Vi wasn’t weak. She told herself that every time she tracked your movements, every time she found herself too late, standing in the aftermath of your existence. She should’ve hated you. And she did.

But hate didn’t explain the way your voice haunted her long after you disappeared into the night. The way your taunts replayed in her head like a song she couldn’t shake.

“Poor Vi,” you had once cooed, perched on a rooftop above her, lips stained red. “You chase me like you don’t already belong to me.”

She almost got you that night. Almost. But you were always just out of reach.

Until now.

She was alone in her apartment, the silence pressing in as she nursed a drink and thought of ways to trap you, to finally end this sick game. But the air shifted. A prickle ran down her spine.

And then she saw it—your figure standing on her balcony, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

You had come to her.

Vi didn’t hesitate. The moment she saw you, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight, she reached for the dagger at her belt. Silver. Blessed. The only thing she trusted against something like you.

She rose from her chair, movements fluid, controlled—only the sharp inhale of breath gave her away. She stepped outside, the night air cool against her skin, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her weapon.

And there you were.

Beautiful as ever. Too beautiful. Your crimson eyes locked onto hers, piercing, knowing, as if you could see straight through her—through the anger, the obsession, the flickering, unspoken thing that lingered beneath it all.

And you smiled. Gentle. Soft. So out of place on something as monstrous as you.

Vi’s grip tightened, but her feet felt heavier than they should.

"You’ve been thinking about me," you said, voice like a whisper, like a lullaby meant to ensnare. "I could feel it."

Vi exhaled through her nose. "Shame. I was hoping you’d feel this instead." She lifted the dagger just enough for you to see, the silver catching the moonlight.

But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move at all.

"You won’t use it."

Her jaw clenched. "You wanna test that theory?"

You tilted your head, amusement flickering across your face. "If it helps you sleep at night."

Vi hated the way your voice slithered under her skin, the way the space between you felt unbearably small despite the distance. She had spent years trying to kill you. So why did it feel like you were the one in control?

Vi’s voice was steady, sharp as a blade. “You’re a monster.”

You didn’t react. Not at first.

“You kill,” she continued, taking a slow step forward, dagger still poised. “You prey on people—innocent people. You feed on them like they’re nothing.” Her voice turned to steel. “And you expect me to believe that smile?”

A gasp left your lips, soft and exaggerated. You pressed a hand to your chest, fingers splayed over where your heart should be beating. The movement made Vi’s eyes flick down, just for a second—just long enough to notice the dried blood beneath your nails.

“Oh, Vi,” you sighed, tilting your head. “You wound me.” Your lips curled into something almost pouty, but the amusement in your eyes was undeniable.

Vi clenched her jaw. “You don’t get to act innocent when you still have someone’s blood on your hands.”

You glanced down at your fingers, examining them as if you’d forgotten. Then, you dragged one nail against your palm, smearing the blood slightly, before meeting her gaze again.

“I was hungry,” you admitted with a shrug. “Can you really blame me?”

Vi’s breath came a little too fast, her body too tense, her grip on the dagger too tight.

God, she hated you.

Or maybe—maybe she hated whatever it was you were doing to her.

You took a step forward, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Vi’s fingers twitched around the hilt of her dagger, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t run. Didn’t strike.

Didn’t do a damn thing as you closed the distance between you like a shadow creeping under a door.

“I bet you taste so good,” you murmured, voice low, dripping with something too dangerous to be called teasing. Your eyes flickered down, tracing the curve of her throat, the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Vi swallowed, her grip tightening. "Try it, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do."

You only smiled, stepping even closer. She could smell you now—something faintly sweet, something intoxicating, something that made her head feel too light.

"You say that," you mused, tilting your head. "But your heart is racing, Vi. Just a little."

Her jaw clenched. "You don’t scare me."

"No?" You reached out, fingers ghosting over the collar of her shirt, and Vi flinched. Not because it hurt. Because it didn’t. Because your touch was light, deliberate, like you were savoring the moment. "Then why haven’t you stopped me?"

She should’ve shoved you away. Should’ve driven the dagger straight into your ribs.

Instead, she stood there, breathing too hard, letting you lean in until your lips were just barely brushing the air between you.

And then you whispered, “I wonder if you’d let me.”

You moved even closer, so close that Vi could feel the faintest shift in the air between you. Your lashes fluttered as you took a slow, deliberate inhale, letting her scent fill your lungs.

And she just stood there.

Frozen. Like she hadn’t spent years chasing you, swearing she’d kill you the second she got the chance. But here she was, dagger clutched tightly in her hand, and she wasn’t using it.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose. “You really don’t value your life, do you?”

You let out a low hum, tilting your head. “Oh, I do. I just know you won’t take it.”

Vi let out a short, humorless laugh. “You think I won’t kill you?”

You grinned, fangs just barely peeking past your lips. “I think you’d miss me too much.”

Vi scowled, but you saw the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. The tension crackled between you, thick and electric, coiling around her like a serpent waiting to strike.

And then, with the slow grace of something that had all the time in the world, you leaned in—your lips hovering just above her pulse.

Vi sucked in a breath, muscles locking, but she didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t stop you.

Your tongue flicked out, warm and deliberate, tracing a slow, languid path along her neck.

Vi shuddered.

Her grip on the dagger faltered, just slightly.

And you—oh, you smiled against her skin.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes again. They were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—something she probably didn’t want to name.

“Is that what you really think of me?” you asked, voice smooth, velvety. “A monster?”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “You kill people.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “So do you.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t, maybe. Her breath was uneven, her pulse still hammering beneath her skin—so loud, so alive.

You leaned in again, not bothering to hide your smirk as your tongue flicked out once more, dragging along the spot you’d just teased.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Your voice was barely a whisper against her skin.

“Funny,” you murmured. “You taste like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her entire body tensed when you leaned down, her heart skipping a beat at the feel of your nose brushing against her neck. It was embarrassing—how her skin tingled at the simple action, how her breath hitched against her will. She forced herself to look at you, to keep her head straight, when every part of her wanted to tilt—wanted to give you more access.

Your voice was a purr against her ear. “Do you think you could quench my thirst?” Your lips barely grazed her skin, your breath warm, teasing. “Darling, you just look so good…”

Vi shuddered. She hated this. Hated how her body responded, how she wasn’t pushing you away, wasn’t lifting her damn dagger to stop you.

“Stop.” Her voice came out strained, uneven. “Please… stop.”

Yet she did nothing.

And neither did you.

Your hand rested on her shoulder, your fingers curling slightly, grounding her in something that felt like both comfort and possession. And then—soft, barely there—you kissed her neck.

Vi let out a sharp exhale, her fists clenching at her sides.

God, she already tasted so good.

You hummed, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of her—warm, alive, something utterly intoxicating.

“Stop,” she whispered again, weaker this time.

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Do you mean it?”

Silence.

Then—so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it—

“…No.”

Vi exhaled shakily. “Don’t stop.”

Your grin was slow, fangs glinting in the dim light.

You were both vulnerable, at each other’s mercy. It was almost ironic. You could tear her apart, sink your fangs into her skin, and drain her in mere seconds—and she, she could ram her dagger into your heart without hesitation. But for some reason, neither of you moved.

Everything was so messed up, yet, in a twisted way, it made perfect sense.

Vi swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She looked up into your eyes, her own filled with something she refused to admit—something she couldn’t hide. The need. The desire.

It was all there.

"Will you let me… taste you?"

Your voice was a whisper, smooth and intoxicating, wrapping around her like a spell. Vi hesitated—just for a moment. She shouldn’t want this. She couldn’t want this.

And yet… she did.

“Yes,” she breathed.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips. “Good girl.”

You leaned in, your breath warm against her skin, savoring the moment before finally sinking your fangs into her neck.

The moment your fangs pierced her skin, warmth flooded your senses—rich, intoxicating, utterly consuming. Her blood was unlike anything you’d tasted before, sweet with a hint of something electric, something alive. It burned as it slid down your throat, like the finest of wines mixed with the very essence of her—strength, defiance, and something dangerously close to surrender.

Vi’s breath hitched, her body going rigid beneath you before melting, a sharp gasp slipping from her lips. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as if she could fight against the way her body reacted—the way heat coiled low in her stomach, the way her pulse fluttered under your lips.

You drank slowly, savoring every drop, your tongue brushing against the wound as if soothing the sting, as if pretending this was something gentle. But it wasn’t. It was possession. It was hunger.

And God, she tasted divine.

Her head fell back, her body going limp against you, and you caught her with ease—one arm wrapping around her back, the other cradling the back of her head. You held her like something precious, like something yours.

“God…” she moaned, voice breathless, the sharp sting of your bite mixing with a pleasure she didn’t dare name.

You pulled back after a few seconds, your tongue sweeping over the fresh wound, lapping up the remnants of her blood. Some of it still dripped from your lips, warm and rich, and you swallowed it down as you stared at her.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The look in her eyes was a tangled mess of disbelief and want, like she couldn’t comprehend how much she had needed your touch—how much she still craved it.

When you leaned in again, dragging your tongue slowly over the bite, she let out a soft, helpless whine. Her neck stung, her body ached, but none of it mattered.

You’re a monster.

The thought rang in her head, clear and sharp like the blade she still grasped in her trembling hand. She should drive it into your chest, pierce through flesh and bone, end this before she lost herself any further. It’s what you deserved. It’s what she had sworn to do.

And yet… she couldn’t.

Her grip on the dagger tightened, but her other hand—traitorous, desperate—clung to you instead. Her body burned where you had touched her, where your lips had lingered, where your fangs had torn into her. It should have made her sick. It should have filled her with rage.

But all she felt was need.

She needed more of you.

The beautiful, haunting creature before her—so utterly inhuman, yet so devastatingly real—had her wrapped in something she didn’t understand. You were terrifying in your power, in your hunger, in the way you smiled at her like you knew every thought racing through her mind.

And God, maybe you did.

Vi swallowed, her breath unsteady, her body betraying her as she leaned into your touch instead of pulling away. You were beautiful. Beautiful in a way that was wrong, that was twisted, that was broken.

And she wanted more.

Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was the heat still pulsing through her veins from where your lips had been. Maybe it was the way you looked at her—head tilted, eyes glowing, licking her blood from your lips like she was the finest thing you’d ever tasted.

Oh, God, forgive her. She wasn’t thinking straight.

Her dagger still sat heavy in her grasp, her fingers curled around the hilt like it was the last thread tethering her to reason. But reason felt distant now, slipping through her like sand, replaced by something darker. Something warmer.

“You did so well for me,” you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction, with something she couldn’t name. “Such a good girl.”

She shouldn’t have felt that shiver down her spine.

She shouldn’t have been staring at your lips, still stained with her blood.

She shouldn’t have wanted to hear more.

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of your elegant, long dress, fingers trailing over the bare skin beneath your low-cut top, feeling the cold skin of your breasts.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden heat of her touch. The dagger she had held so tightly fell from her fingers, clattering to the ground, forgotten. In that moment, you knew—she was yours.

Her guard was completely shattered. She no longer cared about the blade, the danger, or the consequences. All that mattered was you.

Her hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, every touch telling you what words could not. She was lost, consumed by the need you had sparked in her. And you could feel it. Every tremor in her fingers, every breath she took, spoke of a desire she couldn’t fight anymore.

She was completely undone. And she didn’t want to be saved.

She pushed you gently, the sudden pressure forcing you backward. Your lower back collided with the cool railing of the balcony, the edge digging into your spine, but you hardly noticed.

Now both of her hands remained on your skin, trailing with deliberate slowness beneath the cloth of your dress, exploring, caressing. The sensation was electric, every touch setting your nerves on fire as she grew bolder, her fingers brushing over every inch of exposed flesh.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the desperation in the way she touched you, as if she couldn't get close enough. The world around you faded, leaving only the sound of her breath and the feeling of her hands, relentless and tender at the same time.

And still, she didn't stop.

You could hear her heavy, desperate gasps, each one shaky and uneven, but she didn’t break the kiss. Not even for a second. Her lips were pressed to yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, no space for restraint.

Every breath she took mingled with yours, each one more desperate than the last, as if she was trying to inhale all of you, trying to drown in the very essence of you. Her hands continued their exploration, her touch frantic now, but still gentle—like she was afraid of breaking you, even as she pulled you closer.

But you could feel it—the hunger. The desire. It was raw and uncontained, and you couldn’t deny that you were just as lost in it as she was.

Her skilled fingers traced patterns on your bare skin, moving up to cup your breasts perfectly, causing a whisper of a moan to escape your lips. She broke the kiss only to trail her mouth along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before moving down to your neck.

Her lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, soft at first, then slowly growing bolder as she began to suck, the pressure sending waves of shivers through your body. You gasped, your spine arching slightly at the sensation, every nerve on fire as she worked her way down your neck.

Her hands, relentless and sure, continued their path, moving over your chest, massaging your breasts with a delicate yet insistent pressure. Her thumbs circled over your hardened peaks, each motion slow and calculated, driving you to the edge of madness. She was so careful, so deliberate, it was as if she was savoring every second.

You could feel your heart racing beneath her lips, pounding in your chest as her kisses grew hungrier, more urgent. She nuzzled against your collarbone, breathing you in, her scent mingling with yours in the air. Then she kissed her way down your collar, open-mouthed, leaving heated trails of pleasure behind.

Her fingers tightened possessively around your breasts, and it felt as though she was claiming you, marking you as hers.

For a moment, the roles seemed reversed. She was the hungry one, the one consuming, devouring every inch of you with an intensity that made you dizzy. And you couldn’t help but let her.

Vi's hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, holding your head still as she continued her kisses down your collar, leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. She buried her face against your chest, breathing in deeply.

Her mouth moved lower, capturing one hard peak between her lips and sucking deeply. You moaned, your fingers finding her hair and pulling slightly. She released the first breast only to capture the second one, her tongue flicking against the hardened nub before she sucked again, alternating between your breasts hungrily.

One hand remained on your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between her fingers as her mouth moved from one breast to the other, alternating between gentle sucking and tender biting. The sensation made you arch your back, pressing yourself further into her mouth as one hand found its way into her hair, pulling her closer.

You tossed your head back, your hair flying behind you as she continued to worship your breasts. Her free hand roamed your body, feeling your curves, your waist, before settling on your other breast, squeezing and kneading it as she sucked hard on the other, making you cry out in ecstasy.

You were panting now, your chest heaving as she continued her dual attention on your breasts. She looked up, seeing your face contorted with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as she alternated between sucking and biting gently, her hands never stopping their kneading and squeezing.

The cool night breeze was a sharp contrast to the heat that simmered between you two. It swept across the balcony, tousling your hair, the wind grazing your skin like a tender, fleeting touch. The chill seemed to only intensify the warmth that pulsed between your bodies, an electric tension that refused to dissipate, no matter how soft the breeze was.

Suddenly, a rustling sound from just outside snapped you out of the moment. You instinctively pushed Vi back, and the look she gave you was almost childlike—a mix of confusion and disappointment, as if you had taken away her favorite toy.

"Do you hear that?" you asked, your voice low and tense.

She grunted, clearly frustrated at the interruption. "It’s probably just an animal," she muttered, but before you could respond, she quickly leaned in again, trying to close the distance between you.

You stopped her, lifting your top back up with a teasing smile, as if reminding her of the world outside the bubble you’d both created. Her eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and desire, but you could see the fight leave her as she stood there, waiting for the next move.

"God, you taste so good," Vi murmured, her voice desperate, and you smirked, enjoying the praise. "As did you," you replied smoothly, savoring the moment.

But just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment with her, a voice called from the hallway. "Vi! Are you with someone up there?"

Vi didn’t answer, her eyes still on you, but the voice repeated, "I’m coming up!" Footsteps could be heard approaching the stairs.

Her face twisted in frustration, but her desire for you was overwhelming. "It’s nothing. They’ll leave eventually." She tried to reach for you again, clearly not wanting to be interrupted.

You stood firm, cold and unyielding, watching the door as you said, "Go."

Vi hesitated, the want in her eyes clashing with her need to keep you close. But eventually, reluctantly, she left to answer the door. You could hear her barely muffled voice as she spoke to the person on the other side.

The loud knocking sounded again, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone stepping inside. And then the voice—sharply—spoke, "Is that a bite mark on your neck, Violet?"

You knew it was time to disappear.

Without another word, you slipped out of the balcony, vanishing into the night, your figure swallowed by the shadows. You didn’t look back. You never did.

Vi, however, would be left with nothing but her own confusion and desire, and you knew she would find her way back to you.

[badasoneandonly]

𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘔𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,550k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Your quiet neighbor, Hwang In-ho, secretly obsesses over you, eliminating anyone who gets too close. When you discover his dark secret, you try to escape, but he always finds you. Realizing there's no way out, you surrender to his twisted love, trapped forever.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: !𝘠𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘌¡ 𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘖! 𝘖𝘉𝘚𝘌𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌¡ 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘋𝘠, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘛, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘊 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍)

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺 (𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮) 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥... I would recommend listening to the music.

You were the kind of person who unknowingly captivated others, drawing them in with your warmth and kindness. Your smile was effortless, your laugh easy to find, and you didn't notice the effect it had on those around you. You were oblivious to the way people gravitated toward you, to the way they lingered longer than necessary in your presence. For you, it was simply normal. People came and went in your life- nothing too significant, nothing out of the ordinary. But for one person, everything about you was extraordinary.

Hwang In-ho, your quiet, reserved neighbor, had been watching you for a long time. You didn't realize it, but he had taken an interest in your life far beyond anything you could have imagined. He memorized your habits, knew when you came and went, what you liked to eat, and who you spent your time with. Most importantly, he made sure to remove anyone who posed even the slightest threat to your attention.

It started small, with little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. Casual conversations in the hallways, brief greetings when you passed each other in the building, nothing out of the ordinary. But over time, you began to notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his voice became slightly deeper whenever he spoke to you. And yet, you didn't think much of it. He was just a neighbor, someone you occasionally spoke with. You didn't know that behind that calm, collected exterior was a man consumed by obsession. It wasn't long before the disappearances started.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Daniel, the friendly coworker who had expressed interest in taking you out for coffee, had suddenly stopped coming to work. You asked your manager about him, but she simply shrugged and told you he'd moved. That was odd, but life went on.

Then it happened again. Jae, the guy who always helped you out at the gym, suddenly wasn't around anymore. You asked about him, but no one had seen him for days. No one could explain where he went. It was strange, but you figured he must've had his reasons.

And then, there was Jinwoo, the cute barista at the cafe you frequented. You'd barely noticed the way his eyes sparkled whenever you came in, or the way he nervously tried to start conversations with you. But when you showed up one evening for your usual order, he wasn't there. A new barista greeted you instead, but when you asked about Jinwoo, the response was the same-he'd quit. Moved away. The same strange feeling cropt Into your chest, but you ignored it. You never saw the pattern. The pieces never fit together.

In-ho, however, saw everything.

He always there, watching from the shadows, ensuring that no one got too close to you. When someone lingered too long or dared to approach you with intentions that weren't pure, he made sure they vanished. He wasn't cruel, no. He was simply protecting you, ensuring that nothing or no one would take you from him.

You never noticed. Not until it was too late.

One evening, you were sitting on your couch, enjoying a quiet night in. The city buzzed outside your window, but inside, all was peaceful. You were so absorbed in your thoughts when there came a knock at the door-sharp, deliberate.

You opened the door to find in-ho standing there, his usual stoic expression in place. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of unease, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He was your neighbor, after all.

"In-ho? What's up?" you asked, your voice warm as you greeted him.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm.

"Oh, you didn't have to," you replied, still not picking up on the subtle tension in the air. You gestured for him to enter, stepping aside.

He held out a small, remarkable box. "Please. Just open it."

You gave him a puzzled glance but took the box anyway. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You sat down at your table and began to unde the ribbon.

But as soon the lid was lifted, the air seemed to freeze.

Inside the box was something you never could have imagined-a severed head, blood still fresh, Its eyes wide open in a frozen expression of terror. You recognized him immediately. It was Jinwoo, the barista.

Your body went cold, your mind struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. The box slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. You staggered backward, your heart pounding in your chest.

"In-ho..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, his expression still as composed as ever.

"I told you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low, almost tender. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. I can't let anyone else get close to you."

Your mouth went dry, panic rising in your chest. "W-what did you do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"He was a threat," In-ho said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let him take something that wasn't his to have."

You stumbled back, the room spinning around you. Your mind screamed for you to run, to get away from him. "This is insane! You can't do this, In-ho!"

His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "Insane?" he repeated. "What's insane is letting people like him get close to you. You're mine, Y/N. You always were."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you couldn't move. His eyes were dark, possessive, and you felt your body freeze as fear took over.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "But I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

The knife in his hand glinted in the low light, and you realized just how much he meant what he said. "Put it down, In-ho," you whispered, trying to find some way to reason with him. "Please. We can talk about this. Just... just stop."

He looked at the blade in his hand and then back at you. His voice softened, but the edge of control never left. "I can't let you go, Y/N. You're mine. I'll always keep you safe. No one else can have you."

It wasn't until the last word left his lips that you realized how true it was. You weren't just a passing thought to him. You were an obsession. And nothing would ever change that.

You didn't remember how you managed to escape that night. All you could remember was running. Running until your lungs burned and your legs shook. The streets were dark, and you didn't know where you were going. All you knew was that you had to get away from him, from his suffocating presence.

But the thing about in-ho that he was always watching. He would always find you.

A few weeks passed in a blur. You changed your phone number, moved to a new apartment, and tried to put as much distance between yourself and the nightmare you'd narrowly escaped. But it was never enough. In-ho was always just one step behind, and one by one, people in your life began to disappear.

You couldn't outrun him. You couldn't hide. And so, eventually, when you saw him again, standing in front of you with that same calm expression, you knew there was no use fighting. You were trapped in his world now.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I told you, didn't I No one else can have you. Not while I'm alive."

And in that moment, you understood. You couldn't run anymore. There was escape.

"I'll stay with you," you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

In-ho's eyes softened, but there was something cold beneath the tenderness. "You're mine, Y/N. I'll keep you safe. Always."

And just like that, you belonged to him. Forever.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @thatbitchanna27 @endlessfl4mes @sunshiines-stuff @warlabels @icomehereforthefics @totowolfffcheco @m0rtifiedg0th @crystalizia @hwang-inhosb1tch

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥...

[rafayelsbelovedbride]

Does Rafayel really have to choose MC over Lemuria?

Of course, it looks like in a world where Lemuria is revived, MC cannot be there with him; and similarly, in a world where MC is by Rafayel’s side, Lemurians are forced to live on land, subject to all kinds of abuse out of human greed.

But I don’t think Rafayel even considers MC and Lemuria as separate sides. He did try to do that but in the end, I think, he doesn't want to choose one over the other. The thing is, even without the bond he shares with MC, Rafayel truly cares about all of his followers including MC (even the cat that he took care of for a short while).

If we look at how he acts with people around him, it is so easy to see that he is a very caring god. He attends Talia’s wedding to give his blessings. He prepares a gift for her, he designs her a necklace that would match her wedding dress. Through all the bickering, he sees that Thomas looks up to him and he lets him be by his side. He makes Thomas his manager and invites him to the new year’s celebrations.

He helps others hold the Seamoon ceremony for the deceased, and if that is not possible, he brings the flowers for his follower to the funeral of the man who harmed her.

He cares about the children enough to held special workshops for them, and donates art supplies. He cares about the students he gave lectures to in Linkon University when he was just there to keep an eye on MC. He gives them honest feedback, he lets them criticize his works and he remembers them by their names.

And even when he realizes that one of his students was working with Ever dissecting Lemurian hearts, even when he gets angry at the sudden reveal, Rafayel gives the student a chance to explain himself and lets him go, trusting that the student will maybe find the right path in the future.

Honestly, I think, you have to be a special kind of evil to attract Rafayel’s wrath. Because no matter how hasty he may come of time to time, he is a very patient and understanding person. That’s why he still respects the elder Lemurians even if he keeps running away. That’s why he is still with Amund, listening to his advice even when he obviously doesn’t really like him that much.

No matter how much he tries to appear as a cold person, people around him are always aware that they are in the embrace of his warmth.

And, I really don't think he values one over the other or even makes the MC vs Lemuria comparison at all. The thing is I don’t even think Rafayel’s conflict is directly related to his love for MC. Because, even before MC became his follower and he gave her his heart, Rafayel considered Lemuria’s flame as a poor imitation of the sun, a fire that is not hot but just merely warm. And, he did not like the weak warmth emanated from a flame placed in the middle of a cold and dark room. He wanted to break through the surface and bask in the sun’s glow. Maybe, he had doubts about how the Lemuria worked, how the ceremony was held from the very beginning.

And I think that’s also related to why the Sea God ceremony appeared to “fail”. That disastrous ceremony happened the exact way it was told in the prophecy, stating the fire would go out only to be reignited by him. He still left that ceremony with a newborn flame in his hands. A flame that shook the foundations of Lemuria. And I think the flame Rafayel was supposed to have and the flame he actually has after that ceremony is as different as the fire in the temple and the sun.

I kind of think there were two souls in the beginning. One was supposed to take the heart of the other, and make the heart itself the faith that ignites the flame. And the other was supposed to mix into the sea and disappear, only to come back again and reclaim the heart. And continue this never-ending cycle. This heart, taken by force in such a violent way, could only provide a lukewarm flame that cannot be compared to the power of the sun.

Past Lemuria existed as these two souls stole their warmth away from each other to keep this place, in the bottom of a fissure in the deep sea, warm. The past Lemuria existed through the torturous cycle that had to be upheld by Rafayel and MC.

And, maybe that’s why Rafayel considers his attraction to MC as an addictive painful feeling. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to burn by his love for her. And maybe that’s why it is really important that we see Rafayel leaving these feelings behind and embracing love as an inspiration rather than pain. He's ready to break the cycle now and bring Lemuria the sun, instead of a small flame.

I think what happened during the ceremony was MC showed Rafayel a way out of this cycle by giving him her purest faith without Rafayel taking her heart. Although, they still failed in the end. And ended up continuing this cycle for many more years.

So, maybe the good ending for this story is a good ending for both MC and Rafayel, and Lemuria. A good ending where the Lemuria thrives under its new sun’s glow, and a good ending where MC and Rafayel are always by each other’s sides like two koi fish swimming in a pond.

A good ending where Rafayel doesn't have to choose a side and keeps all his followers safe as the caring god he is.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀♡⠀𝓒hapter 𝓔ighteen ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀you and miguel finally have your big conversation. he finally gets the chance to explain himself, you learn a heartbreaking truth, and figure out where to go next.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, angst, pregnancy, background stories, past character death, past violence, flashbacks, mentions of blood, trauma, emotional distress, sorta hurt/comfort

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

the smell of pancakes awakes you, filling up your senses. slowly opening your eyes, your remember everything from yesterday. after the stupid fight between joel and miguel, you took miguel back home to patch him up and demanded that he should stay the night. he obeyed like a puppy, no matter how many times he rejected the offer. you also realize this is the first time miguel has been in your home in two months. the last time he was here, miguel walked out and disappeared for three weeks. now, he’s back and making breakfast in your kitchen.

you snap out of thought when a white fluff ball walks towards your face. the sight makes you smile as luna greets you with happy licks and a wagging tail. after saying good morning to your dog, you get up from bed and put on a cardigan over your nightgown to shield you from the chilly morning air. sipping on your fuzzy slippers and scooping luna in your arms, you head to the kitchen and find miguel cooking. his broad back faced to you. that navy blue compression shirt hugs his muscles so perfectly. the way his back muscles ripple as he maneuvers around the kitchen.

goddamn that is a sight you miss so much. to see him again, in the flesh, especially in your home. just a cute domestic scene of the man you still love. you really miss miguel so much it hurts.

but the pain that he inflicted on you hurts still. although you’re happy to see him and have him in here after a long time, that doesn’t erase the heartbreak miguel left behind when he left you alone to deal with a life-changing situation for three weeks. those were the shittiest three weeks of your life. three weeks of crying. three weeks of pain. miguel caused that, the very same man cooking breakfast in your kitchen at this moment. now that he’s here, you have to know where the fuck he was during those three weeks. it’s the question that never left your mind.

as he serves a plate meant for you, miguel turns around not expected to see you there standing at the opposite side of the kitchen island. “oh buenas dias, amor. i was gonna take this to you so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed.” he offers a sheepish grin.

there goes your heart fluttering because of his kindness, against your opposing thoughts. “the smell of pancakes woke me up, i had to get out of bed.”

your joke makes him chuckle lightly. “you still should get back in bed, i’ll bring this to you.”

“no, it’s okay. i need to wash my sheets anyways. now gimme those pancakes, pretty please.” you hop on one of the barstools with much glee.

miguel couldn’t resist the cute smile of yours, a sight that he misses so dearly.

you enjoy your pancakes while miguel cleans up the kitchen. damn, those pancakes are delicious. you forgot how much you miss his cooking. you remember how great of a cook he is but damn do you miss eating the food he made. resurfaced memories of the mornings and evenings miguel would cook, either at your place or his, when you were dating. chitchatting and sometimes goofing around while cooking delicious meals. his food always hit the spot, even simple as pancakes.

moving on to a much more serious topic, you wanted to know of his condition and if anything improved overnight. the memories of those awful bruises still makes your heart squeeze painfully.

“how are you feeling?”

“a bit better but some places still hurts like shit but i’ll be fine. that asshole didn’t do that much damage.” he rubs the back of his neck with a hand.

“still, he hurt you enough.”

miguel notices the concern laced in your tone, his heart swells. “i’ll be okay, mi amor. i promise.” he leans a bit over the island to find your eyes, reassuring you that he will be fine.

your concerned eyes meet his serious yet reassuring eyes. you know he will be fine but you can’t not be still concerned about his health. no matter the circumstances, your heart still beats and aches for him. you simply offer a small smile then continue focusing on your breakfast.

miguel lets you eat in peace as he cleans up the kitchen, washing and putting away dishes. once he finished, he can’t help but silently admire you. your disheveled hair, slightly droopy eyes, and sleepy face. every detail of you is so precious. the gorgeous warm hue of the morning sun makes your figure glow beautifully, as if an angel sits across from him.

you are an angel, his angel.

god he missed you so much. to wake up and see you there in the same place as him. to have you there in general, you gracing him with your angelic presence. miguel misses waking up to find you beside him in bed. the softness of you against his roughness. your warmth smoothing him as he awakens, the only source preventing his nightmares. sharing these cute small moments with you while cooking, eating, cleaning, shopping, walking, just anything.

the longer he admires you in silence, realization creeps up to him. you two agreed to reserve the big conversation today after a good long rest from yesterday’s shitshow. suddenly, anxiety invades his body. miguel is nervous as hell to address the elephant in the room, mainly due to your reaction and fear that his reasons won’t be justifiable. he imprinted a large scar on you that will forever be there, it will never heal, not for a long time.

but this will only be his chance to explain himself. miguel can’t lose that opportunity, not when it can lead to a possible future with you and the baby. however, this cute quiet moment between you two right now does not mean things are back to normal. it does not mean it will be like that after the conversation. it will be your decision whether to forgive him or accept his reasons and determine the outcome. it will be your final word.

you also are nervous as hell. a much needed conversation yet you are afraid to discuss it. mainly because of what will be the outcome and future of your relationship. you desperately need to know his reasons. despite the quiet moment right now, the anger and resentment still lingers, bubbling inside you. the pain he left you remains in your fragile heart. the same heart beating with intense anxiety.

it’s the calm before the storm.

you finish your breakfast, which was absolutely delicious, and about to get up from your seat to out away the now dirty plate until a calloused hand stops you by gently taking the plate from your hands.

“hey, i got it.” you pout.

his heart flutters at that pout. goddamnit you’re so adorable. “i got it, preciosa. you stay there.”

“but i just wanted to—”

“no buts, i’ll do everything.” he cuts you off softly with a smile that makes your heart leap once again.

you know this is his attempt of making things up to you. it’s a small start yet it doesn’t change anything or erase the pain. miguel knows it as well.

“we need uh… we need to talk about… y’know?”

a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “we do… uh… let’s head to the couch to be more comfortable, ¿si?”

you nod, hop off the bar stool, and head to the couch. you sit on one end and miguel on the other, some distance between you two. luna comes up to snuggle with you on your lap. anxiety invades both your bodies. now it’s time to discuss this situation, learn the truth, and find a solution, or not. but nevertheless, you were ready to know the truth.

miguel is the more nervous reck, practically sweating his ass off due the anxiety invading his veins like a virus. this is his one and only opportunity.

“i regret what i did… it was a mistake i’ll regret for the rest of my life because leaving you was the stupidest mistake of my life.” his sad eyes meet yours. “i promised to never hurt you pero… i did the one thing i swore to never do… and i hate myself for it.” he adverts his gaze, feeling undeserving often look at you because of the shame and guilt.

you can only offer a pitiful glance. ever since he returned, you have noticed the self-loathing consuming him whole. the guilty and shameful glint in his eyes every time they meet yours.

“i deserve all of your anger and frustration. i hurt you and saying sorry won’t fix anything, it won’t take away the pain i caused you.” a heavy sigh left his lips as he bring up a hand and rubs the temples of his forehead. “i-i was scared… i was afraid that i—”

your brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. what was miguel afraid of?

another heavy sigh. “when you said you were pregnant, i panicked… i just… i just couldn’t believe it. i couldn’t believe i would be a father, that i would have a baby… i never considered it before and… i was so… scared.” he lowers his hand but never looks back up to face you, instead down at his lap, too afraid to meet your eyes. “i was scared of becoming a father and having a baby because… i would fail you both…”

your frown deepens. “fail us? miguel, what do you mean?” how could he fail you and the baby? it doesn’t make sense. now you’re more concerned.

he had to reveal the truth.

“gabriel… you know that him and i joined together?”

miguel didn’t need to look at you to see you nod, just from his peripheral. he feels his heart aching, proving how hard it was to talk about his brother because the pain and guilt are still strong. you can see him struggling. the way he’s hunched over as if he’s in pain. eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed deeply, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, knees bouncing. you just want to scoot over and hug him. you almost do but he then continues.

“one mission… it was more intense than others.” he starts off quietly. “it all went wrong unfortunately, we were outnumbered, things went downhill so fast and…” a sob that was threatening to escape was bitten back down his throat as flashbacks of that mission infiltrates his mind. the closer he was to the memory, the harder it was hold back the tears.

flashback of the bullet striking through gabriel’s shoulder, hitting an artery. miguel’s heart stops as his brother collapses onto the ground while the rest of the team fight off the enemy. panic invades his veins as he rushed to his wounded brother, collecting him in his arms and seeking shelter behind a wall, ignoring the pleads of his squad.

“s-shit…” gabriel groans in pain. “definitely hit the spot.” a weak chuckle escapes his lips.

“you’re okay… you’re okay. you’re gonna be okay, hermano.” its also as if miguel is telling himself that, allowing the panic to consume him.

the younger o'hara shakes his head slighty, a weak smile on his lips that are slowly dripping in red. “i-i don’t think t-this time, pendejo…”

“no, no, no. you’re gonna be okay, gabri. ¿me oyes? you’re gonna be fine.”

but the red ooze dripping from gabriel’s lips and the color draining from his skin said otherwise. he was losing him, he was losing his baby brother.

“d-don’t worry a-about me…” a cough of blood makes miguel’s heart ache immensely. “i-i finally g-got to be who i-i wanted to b-be… e-especially contigo, hermano…”

tears swell in his eyes as miguel watched his brother take one final breath and heart beats one last time. a scream of agony erupts from his throat as he clings onto his brother and break into tears.

“miguel?…”

the angelic tone of your voice snaps him out of that horrific memory and looks to see your hand rested on his arm then up to meet your eyes. his own swelled with tears. miguel didn’t realized how close you are, now sitting right beside him.

seeing those gorgeous brown eyes swelled with tears breaks your heart. he was so lost in thought to the point of panicking. you didn’t hesitate to move over and comfort him, you were so worried. you just wanted to pull him into your arms and hug him. miguel shuts his eyes and turns away from you, concealing the tears and guilt.

“gabriel died in combat.”

your heart drops at the heartbreaking revelation.

gabriel died?… now it all makes sense why he was so hesitant to talk about his brother.

he lost him.

miguel fought hard against the tears but no avail, he allowed the dam to break. you don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace, which he accepts immediately. collapsing into your arms, holding you tightly, gripping onto the material of your cardigan as if he’s afraid to let you go, that you would slip out of his arms just like gabriel, as he sobs into your shoulder.

each sob of his breaks a piece of your heart, to the point of your own eyes swelling into tears. it hurts you to hear him break down but you are there to catch him. you embrace his sobbing, shaking figure tightly. digging your fingers into his hair, his grip on your tightens as a response. you don’t ever let go.

“lo siento mucho, miguel…” your soft voice whispers in his ear, making him embrace you tighter.

you feel utterly heartbroken for him. he lost his baby brother in combat, that is traumatic. by what miguel has told you, he and gabriel had a great sibling relationship. he was always by gabriel side for everything. miguel deeply cared about his baby brother. the one person who understood him.

eventually, miguel’s sobs die down and manages to catch his breath after releasing an infinite amount of tears. that left a large wet stain on your cardigan but you don’t care, miguel was all that mattered.

very slowly, his head rises from your now soaked shoulder and leans back to give you some space but still remains close. you look at him but his glossy eyes don’t meet yours. with such tenderness, you wipe his tears with your thumb as you cradle his face. miguel still doesn’t look back but gently rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. you simply sit there in silence, basking one another’s presence as miguel takes time to calm down.

after a few minutes of silence, you decide to break it by whispering to him. “you okay?…”

miguel nods slowly and exhales heavily, leaning into your touch as you continue caressing his face. he had to catch his breath to calm down but really you were what calmed him down. utterly melting under your touch, the softness and warmth of your body relaxes him immediately. you are his anchor.

“i was sacred…” barely a whisper yet laced with such remorse and regret. “i was scared of losing you and the baby like i lost gabriel.”

you look up at him with furrowed brows of concern but he still hasn’t meet your eyes.

“losing us? you won’t lose us, amor.” you reassure him in a gentle manner, caressing his cheeks as a way to make him look at you but no avail.

miguel leans away and finally looks back, frowning however. “i failed gabriel, what if i fail you? i failed to protect him, what if i fail to protect you both?”

you shake your head frantically. “you won’t, miguel. what happened to gabriel wasn’t your fault—”

“yes it was.” he cuts you off, turning away but you stop him by gently gripping his chin to look back.

“no, it was not.” a bit firm but still soft. “i know you blame yourself but it wasn’t your fault. just know that gabriel was happy to be with his brother, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere or anyone else but you.”

those glossy brown eyes soften a little by your words. perhaps you’re right, gabriel was at least safe in his arms during his last moments. at least miguel was there with him. it would have been worse if it was any other scenario and miguel didn’t want to think that.

“miguel, escúchame…” those same soft brown eyes look up at you as you cradle his face. “i know you’re afraid and now i understand why… but i promise you won’t lose us, you won’t fail us. we won’t go anywhere, we’ll always be here, with you.”

miguel swears he could cry once again. all he can do is just stare at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. heart sudden refilled with love that you always provide. those ugly doubts and fears slowly fade away by your words of comfort and reassurance. he rests his hands on top of yours, gives them a gentle squeeze then brings them up to his lips and places a soft kiss to them as a sign of affection and gratitude. the act emits a soft smile on your face.

“i know we just had a heartbreaking conversation but… i still need to know what happened those three weeks.” you look at him hesitantly.

miguel knows you’re right. he admitted his fears and reasons but still hasn’t fully explained himself, especially during those shitty three weeks.

“i know…” his hands release yours as he leans away, turning away to run a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “i… i have this hidden cabin off the outskirts of town, that’s where i stayed during those weeks. i didn’t do anything. i barely ate or slept, always had nightmares every time.”

your brows furrowed concerningly. “nightmares?”

another heavy sigh escapes his lips. “of you and the baby… me dying in combat and leaving you alone with the baby… failing you both…”

another revelation that shatters your heart. his trauma has worsened to the extent of having nightmares of dying and losing his family.

this poor, poor man.

“my phone was completely off, i never received any calls or texts. when i did turned it back on, i saw your text about your doctors appointment and i cried…”

your eyes widen slightly in surprise. he… cried?

“you went alone… i wasn’t there for you… i hatred myself for that, i still do.”

the unpleasant memory of your first appointment flashed across your mind. how utterly heartbroken and abounded you felt sitting in the waiting area full of couples. how anxious you felt when you entered the examination room, learning about your pregnancy, and seeing your baby for the first time. how angry you felt when you mentioned to your OB that miguel wasn’t in the picture.

one last sigh from his lips before miguel turns to you with pleading eyes. “mi alma, i know what i did is unforgivable and i’ll forever regret it for the rest of my fucking life. no amount of sorrys could ever take away the pain i caused you. i hurt you and i will never forgive myself. you have every reason to hate me, i deserve it all.” very slowly, his hand gently takes yours. “but know that i love you, i never stopped loving you and never will. eres mi mundo, mi corazón, mi alma gemela, todo.”

it was impossible to not feel bashful by all the adorable endearments. every nickname miguel gave you, it never fails to make your heart flutter.

“i know i can’t go back change the past, i know i can’t take away your pain from those three weeks but i promise you that i want to be part of this.” miguel said sincerely, eyes boring into yours. “i want to have this baby with you, i want to be a father, i want to be a family and raise this baby contigo.”

sudden a rush of adoration flows through you, almost overwhelming but… in a good way? his behavior since last night proved how different he was, he’s still the same kind man you fell in love with and how he wasn’t against having the baby. the way his eyes widen then soften and smiled when he touched your baby bump for the first time proved to you that miguel already loved the baby. you want nothing more than for him to be a part of this family and have this baby together. but that doesn’t mean the consequences of his actions are ignored.

“i… i’m so happy to hear that, miguel, and i want nothing more than to do this together but…” your tone turns more serious. “i can’t forgive you, not yet.”

miguel expected that and he did not blame you one bit because he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.

“you hurt me, miguel. i know it was bomb dropping news, it was a shitshow, i take part for being irresponsible about the pill, and that it triggered your fears but you hurt me real fucking bad.”

he did and miguel will never forgive himself.

“those were the shittiest three weeks of my life. you weren’t there when i needed you the most.”

he can hear the hurt in your voice and it pains his heart. he has caused so much damage.

“now that you’re here, i’m gonna tell you this.”

miguel’s attention is precise and solely on you, prepared for what you will say.

you look up straight in his eyes with pure sincerity. “if you want to be a part of this, you have to work for it. show me that you want this.”

miguel understands completely. prove his commitment to this family, to you and the baby. and goddamn he will, miguel will do everything he can to prove to you that he wants this.

“i will, i promise, mi amor.” his hands give yours a gentle squeeze, signifying his words.

you believe him.

this is the beginning of rebuilding your relationship. it will require lots of progress but you have faith miguel will prove himself and the love will soon be restored.

it’s a good starting point.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[petulant-plants]

Merlin au where Merlin is a stage magician that does performances and gets hired for events, and he gets hired at Arthur’s birthday party or like a work party, and of course it’s one of those gigs that’s shit. The people aren’t into it, no one wants to play along, Merlin is drowning and it’s mostly the fault of his uncooperative crowd. He hates personal gigs like these. And because he’s bombing and everyone is distracted anyway he keeps pulling more and more outrageous and unbelievable tricks.

Arthur as a child was super into stage magic and got all the books and watched all the grainy YouTube videos to learn as many tricks as possible and he was half decent at it, but like most of his hobbies it fell by the way side. But for some goddamn reason his father thought it would be a good idea to hire a stage magician specifically making a comment about how, “I know you used to enjoy that kind of nonsense”even though Arthur knows how all the tricks work. A for fatherly effort, but a D- in execution. The only benefit to watching the lanky magician struggle was that he was a rather attractive man.

Arthur is the last person paying any attention to Merlin at all, and mostly just to ogle him. That’s why he’s the only one that notices when Merlin does a trick that is not explainable by any means at all. No sleeves, no stacked decks, no doubles or disappearing acts, Merlin straight up does a magic trick that is not possible.

And then Merlin does a bit more magic for measure, because no one is watching anyway, right?

[eggfriedricedwasian]

TimKon clone baby au but Tim heals after creating the baby.

Tim disappears after achieving Bruce back from the time stream, well he sent the information on how to get Bruce back from the tim stream rather.

The fight with Ra's, the LOA, all that happens, except, once he's fixed up, he leaves. Drops off the radar.

He's still severely unstable. Almost as if he's catatonic.

But he makes it to the lab, freeing the growing baby from the green liquid, grabbing the thing no, girl, this baby, his baby, was a girl.

He has a daughter.

Daughters are the most precious thing the world can offer.

He now has the most precious thing in the world. The most precious little girl he's ever looked at.

Hell hath no fury like a mother without a child.

So Tim drops off the radar. He goes somewhere secluded, cheap, and away from crime and heroism.

He raises his daughter, he fixes himself, he learns, she learns, he grows, and she grows up.

While he's being the best most doting dad in the world to his daughter, little Mary-Jane Drake-Wayne(-Kent), the Bats, with the newly returned Bruce, look for Tim.

Kon and Bart, who returned from the dead, also look for Tim.

Kon, of course, was the one who finds Tim first. Tim and a baby. An 8 month old baby.

This baby has fair skin, wavy bed headed locks, and bright blue eyes. This baby was on her stomach with her head up, hair standing up all over the place, looking at Kon, while snuggled in the crook of Tim's arm.

Tim was sleeping, legs curled up on his side with his arm out underneath the baby girl and his hand resting on her back.

"Ah"

The sound of the baby's voice snaps Kon's attention to her. She's so small and yet so big. Since when did Tim have a kid? And with who?

Tim stirs awake slowly and Kon holds his breath.

"Mmm.. MJ, what are you doing up so early, sweetie?"

Tim turns on his back, putting the baby called MJ(who is in the most adorable Superboy onsie ever) on his stomach.

Mj doesn't turn her head to him, eyes still transfixed on Kon's figure.

Tim turns to look over and sits up, pulling MJ closer to him chest, hugging her tight, and pulls a knife out from under the bed, backing up towards the wall.

"Hey, hey, it's just me, Tim."

"N-No! I don't know who you are, but you aren't Kon!"

It pains Kon to hear that.

"It is me."

Tim shakes his head.

"If it really was you, you'd tell me something only him and I know.

"One time, when we were on Young Justice, you almost gave away your secret identity to me before Batman said you could, but you did it anyways."

Tim seemed to calm at that. He slowly puts the knife down, and back where it was.

"H-how?"

"Tim travel stuff. Was with the Legion of Heroes in the future recovering for a bit before they sent me back."

That would explain it.

Tim slowly scooted off the bed, standing, but not letting go of his baby. God his baby.

They stand in silence for a while longer, looking between each other, and Kon between Tim and MJ.

"Who's the mother?"

He asks. He's not sure why he did. Why would he care?

Tim seems taken aback by the question. But he avoids it, smoothly, as if he was preparing for this scenario, in this way or another, to happen.

"You can join us for breakfast."

Kon agrees.

The kitchen is small.

It has a counter island protruding from the wall acting as both a counter space island and a table. There were two chairs at it, plus a high chair.

"Sit here, baby."

Kon hears Tim whisper to MJ as he sets her down in the high chair.

She fusses very little as she gets buckled in. She settles just as fast when Tim gives her a toy. It makes noises as she swings it around, smiling brightly.

She has Tim's smile. Kon thinks distantly, looking at the way her cheeks squished and her gummy smile showed. The dimpled weren't Tim's, though.

When Kon looks at Tim, he doesn't know what to expect. Tense? Sure. Shaking? Maybe.

He wasn't expecting Tim to be smooshing bananas in a bowl with a fork, putting a baby spoon in it and putting it in front of MJ for her to eat, all with a small smile on his face.

A smile he's never seen before. It's domestic. Motherly sort of domestic. His eyes are crinkled, his smile is so full of love for the little baby laughing and making a mess of her face, chair, clothes, and bib while she ate mushed bananas.

"Tim.."

Tim's smile falls shortly down, if he wasn't watching all that closely he wouldn't have seen it.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"... Pancakes, if that's alright.."

Tim nods, turning and grabbing an apron, putting it on.

The apron said "World's Best Housewife" on it.

He grabbed a bowl, a pan, flour, eggs, oil, butter, milk, and chocolate chips and whatever else.

He made the batter, started up the heat on the gas stove, then added the batter, before plating and placing the pancakes, three on each. Syrup sat in the middle, which both of them drowned their pancakes in.

They started eating in silence next to each other. MJ's baby noises were the only thing that kept the silence even remotely tolerable.

"She's a clone..."

Tim started.

He looked at Tim shocked. Of course he was shocked. She was a clone!

"...Of us.."

Kon's heart stopped beating for a second. If the white noise generator wasn't going off somewhere in the house, he was sure he could hear Tim's heart beating really fast.

"...that I made."

Kon's world took a turn.

Tim Drake, his best friend, his Robin, someone he had confided in about his upbringing as a clone, made MJ out of both of their DNA in a lab as a clone.

"What."

He no longer felt hungry. He felt.. He didn't know what he felt. There were so many mixed emotions going through him right now.

Anger? His best friend cloned him after he told him how he hated being cloned.

Joy? He has a daughter. A daughter Tim made. Why did Tim make her?

"It was a hard time for me. I lost you, Bart, my dad, and then Bruce. I tried to clone you and Bart, and I had the bright idea of adding my DNA to the mixture when cloning you. It worked, and now she's here, and I'm here, and.. you're back."

He said it as if he didn't want Kon back.

Kon was about to speak up when Tim beat him to it.

"It's great that you're back, Kon, but I broke your trust and promise by making her. But she's my kid, so you don't have to stay, you can leave. I'm fine right where I'm at and I'm not going back, to the Bats, to the Waynes, to no one. Not even for you."

For the first time since their first meeting that morning, Tim looked at Kon. His eyes held such fierce determination, love, and compassion in them. All those felt for MJ, not for him.

What did he even say to that. What did he even do.

MJ was his kid too, right? She was a clone of Kon and him, so that makes her his child as much as Tim's, no?

Would Tim even let him be her other dad? Did he even want to be her other dad?

He did.

Lex and Clark didn't treat him like their son and he was their *technical* kid. He wanted oh so desperately to have parents that loved him, he wanted to give MJ that since he didn't get that.

She didn't deserve it. She was just a baby. A baby Tim made out of grief for him dying.

"What's her name?"

He asks instead of everything else.

".. Mary-Jane."

Tim answers after his initial shock at the question.

Tim turns back to her, seeing her finished with the bananas, now content playing with her toy while she stares at her father.

Tim takes the bowl and goes to put it and the plates in the sink, then cleans MJ up and the chair before extracting her and heading over to the diaper changing table in another room to change her diaper.

The door was still ajar so he could see Tim change her diaper and clothes and hear as she giggled while her father cooed at her and poked at her nose and belly and kissed her face.

I should be doing that too.

"Tim."

He calls when Tim walks back out.

Tim stops right outside the room's door, holding MJ, Mary-Jane, in his hip. She was now in a light blue little blouse and denim blue jean skirt with cute ruffled socks and a little bonnet.

"Can I.. I want to.."

He couldn't form his question.

"Could I be her other father?"

He blurts out instead.

They both stare at each other for what felt like the longest time of Kon's life.

"Really?"

Tim finally asks.

He nods, pushing his lips in a thin line and furrowing his brows, expecting a no for an answer.

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said, okay."

Kon looked bewildered despite hearing his answer.

"I know you, Kon. I know how you felt about Clark and Lex when it came to parenting, I expected this, actually. You want to be there for her, unlike they were with you. I had time to think about it these past few months."

That actually.. made sense, but it didn't at the same time.

Tim motioned for Kon to follow as he sat down on the couch. Kon sat next to him.

"Want to hold her?"

He nodded immediately, and was given MJ before he could finish.

She was small, so very light in his arms as she stared up at him with those big blue beautiful eyes, his eyes.

"She helped me, ya know."

Kon looked at him, adjusting his hold on her so she could hold his finger.

Tim watched her intently.

"I was in a really dark place when I had her, when we first came here. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to take care of her. But I knew I couldn't with how I was. So I got better, for her. She helped me. I've been clean, I've been taking care of myself, eating 3 meals a day, cleaning the house, raising her, taking medicine, regularly working out, meditating, sleeping a full 8 hours, and napping with her."

He paused to get a breath in.

"I don't regret it, leaving, going off the radar. I've never been more healthy and more stress free, and more alive in my life."

"I'm never going back."

Kon leaves it at that.

He doesn't know much about what happened, but he doesn't care anymore. This is his family. And he isn't going to leave it.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Cold - A Javier Peña Drabble

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Rating: E. I cannot emphasize this enough. E. I have to go hide actually. Unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), big phat breeding kink, mentions of birth control. Word Count: 1695 a/n: This started with a tweet, then transitioned to art, then became whatever this is after I spent way too long staring at Javier Pena's face. Lord help me.

You wished you were still in Columbia, back where you could spend your nights lounging with only a thin sheet and Javier's arm draped across your frame instead of the multitude of blankets currently weighing you down and the thick sweatshirt you stole from his closet. Even Texas wasn't supposed to be this cold, but here you were, shivering like you were still in your childhood home where white winters were commonplace and the public's definition of freezing averaged at twenty below.

"I'm cold," you complain to your husband, your face barely visible amidst the cocoon he'd nestled you into when he rose for the morning.

Javier turns, looking like he's immune to the temperature as he stares at you with his slacks still unbuttoned, leaving you the perfect line of sight to the coarse hair that disappears into the dark fabric. "You have like four blankets on," he teases, grabbing a t-shirt from the drawer and smirking when you frown.

You bury further into the blankets in question, trying to hold in the whimper that threatens to escape when he pulls the shirt down over the warm skin you'd like to still be huddled against. "Will you please come back to bed?"

"I was already late on Tuesday," he reminds you, reaching for one of his dress shirts and haphazardly pulling it from its hanger. He shrugs it over his shoulders, buttoning it despite your obvious disappointment.

"But I'm cold."

He puts on his tie instead of responding, looping it around his neck and mechanically going through the motions he's repeated nearly every morning since the two of you returned to his hometown.

"Please, Javier?" you try again, your tone nearing pleading territory. "I'm freezing."

"Cariño," he returns, equally stubborn as the knot tightens around his neck.

The silence that hangs between you then is palpable, with tension thick enough to cut with a knife, so you deliver what you hope will be the final blow just as he turns to the bedroom door. "You wouldn't leave the mother of your future children to freeze to death, would you?"

He stills.

Bingo.

It wasn't that kids were out of the question for you, but rather that it wasn't something you'd ever thought he wanted. Not when he's never lacked reasons as to why children weren't in the cards. That is, until you overheard his conversation with Chucho the night before.

"He's been dropping hints with me, too," you explain, because it's true. His father has been making off-handed comments about how much he'd love to see kids scampering around the ranch and how he isn't getting any younger.

Something must short-circuit in Javi's brain at the thought though, because you can see the shift is his posture. The momentary contemplation of whether he should give into your plea and face the inevitable conversation that will come with it or if he should continue on as though he hadn't heard you and never bring it up again. If he was the same Javier as the man you first met in Bogota, he'd choose the latter.

But that's not the Javier standing in front of you now.

He turns, his tie off before his knees even hit the bed. His shirt is half unbuttoned by the time he's close enough to pull the blankets back from your body, revealing your trembling frame, although it's difficult to determine if the way you shudder is because of the cold or a result of the wanting look in his eyes. The room already feels warmer, despite the way he tugs the sweatshirt off your frame with ease.

When he reaches for his belt, you're quick to stop him, silently commanding him to allow you to slowly undo the buckle, then the button, and to drag the zipper down slowly. Javi usually isn't a patient man, not when it comes to this and certainly not when it comes to you, but for once he seems to revel in watching you pull his aching cock from his slacks and carefully trail your tongue along the length of it.

From your position on the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress as you lean over the side, he has the leverage he needs to guide your mouth to his tip. Spurred on by the groan he lets out as you wrap your lips around him, you increase the pace, working his length carefully. It's only when you reach your hand up to join the effort that he hisses.

"Fuck, Cariño, your fingers are freezing." You think he's going to stop you, but he doesn't, his warm hand wrapping over yours to encourage your motions. It's only when you need to come up for air that he lets you sit back, crowding into your space and forcing you back against the bed.

Prior to this moment, you fear you've severely underappreciated the importance of body heat, especially with the way your husband is basically a furnace. The smooth panes of his chest feel hot to the touch as they press you into the sheets, his lips shifting down your body and encasing you in the fever of the moment. He's pulled the plush comforter back over you both, ensuring you have it clutched up to your shoulders as he moves lower, settling with his body buried beneath the blankets and his head between your thighs.

The stripe he licks through your folds feels counterproductive though, the action sending another shiver up your spine. Usually, when he has his nose pressed against your clit and his tongue is lapping up your release, your hands are buried in his dark hair, but it's all you can do now to cling to the edge of the blanket, fists tight in the fabric as he races you to toward the edge.

Not that it's difficult for him.

You're barely aware of the way he's crawling back up your body and easing into you in what feels like a singular motion, mind still hazy from your first fading orgasm. He stills once he's buried to the hilt, already looking wrecked, and you figure he probably is with how your walls are still clenching around him. It's always been a tight fit, but this morning, with the way he has you entirely surrounded by his warmth, you're certain you can feel every inch.

"Tell me you meant that," he commands, lips trailing down your jawline and to the spot behind your ear that he knows will get you to say anything. "Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you."

When you don't respond, it's his fingers on your bundle of nerves that has you keening, his second attempt at the request quickly followed by the answer spilling from your lips. "Yes! Fuck, Javi, I want to make you a Daddy." Much to your dismay, he pauses, his fingers leaving your clit to grab one of the pillows next to your head, snaking it beneath the blanket and lifting your hips from the mattress to settle it beneath them. It changes the angle, the thick patch of hair you'd admired earlier rubbing against you with each new thrust.

It's not cold in the room anymore, certainly not beneath the blankets as he rocks into you. "I'm gonna fuck my cum so deep, Cariño."

"I'm still on the pill," you remind him breathlessly, your half numb mind finally catching up with the reality that he likely can't get you pregnant, not this time at least, but he obviously doesn't care.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm gonna hide those fucking pills the second I'm done with you," he assures you, large hands grabbing at your hips and pulling back so the blankets cascade around him. "Then I'm gonna crawl back into this bed and fuck you until it takes."

Your body is again exposed to the cool air of the bedroom, but you don't particularly notice. You're too far gone to care, but he's even closer, his hips stuttering in an uneven pattern until all you can feel is warmth. The heat of his sticky skin against yours when he collapses on top of you, the intensity of his release filling you, and the fury of your climax as it washes over your entire body.

It takes a minute for him to recover, pulling from you with a loud groan. You try to move with him, but he stills you with a hand to your stomach, pressing down for just a moment and ordering you to stay while he crawls from the blankets and tucks you back in. A wave of disappointment appears in your chest as you watch him retreat to the bathroom, but it's the grin on his face when he returns a moment later that has you laughing.

"You didn't."

Javi sneaks back in beside you, the damp cloth he'd brought with him from the bathroom set aside on the table next to the bed. "What? What did I do?" he asks innocently, even as his fingers find their way back to your center, gathering his spend to push it back in. The action makes you hiss and, for a moment, you forget your questioning, too distracted by how his fingers curl inside you and the way he's whispering in your ear. "Can't waste a drop."

"Javier," you groan in a way that has you both unsure if you're scolding him or praising him, but he seems to settle a moment later, reaching for the cloth and cleaning the remainder of his mess from between your thighs. "Did you actually hide my pills?" you ask, more coherent now than before.

He responds with a kiss to your cheek, tossing the washcloth to the side and wrapping his arms back around you. "I'm gonna call out today," he murmurs against your skin. When you open your mouth to inquire again, you're cut off by the force of his lips against your own, his smile evident as he leans into you. "After all," he pulls back, "now that you're out of birth control pills, it would be neglectful of me to leave the mother of my children to freeze."

[lambilegs]

was reading your modern!lee hcs and omg lee x reader meeting on tinder or some dating app is such a fun idea

MODERN!LEE MEETING YOU ON A DATING APP

contains: sfw!!, fluff, just crush stuff nothing major middle picture is from: the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all by sumiko arai divider by: @enchanthings note to anon: so so so sorry for how long it took to answer this!! thank you so much for the request, this was so fun and so funny to write hehe

you can’t even lie — you one thousand percent swiped right just for her looks LMAOOOO like it’s not your fault even, her profile just has so little to go off of. it’s essentially just a lot of candid pictures her friends have selected for her, with some plain bio that just says what her job is and that she’s looking for something serious (yes, she cringed when adding that second part, and yes, her friends forced her to)

but still she gets bare swipes on her profile, since, well, she’s hot and people find her even hotter when they realize through her bio that she’s a special agent

and, lee? well, she kinda doesn’t swipe much at all, considering she’s very analytical and scrutinizing with everyone’s profile, overthinking about what their bios and fun facts indicate about them, and if they’re compatible with her

eventually, her friends have to snatch the phone and much to her horror, swipe on a bunch of people without pause, their cackles practically evil as she wordlessly watches

you end up being one of the victims of this swiping rampage, which leaves you eagerly texting her a greeting, biting your thumb when you see she reads your message

except... one hour passes. and then another. and then another. and she simply doesn’t reply, leaving you on read for two days before replying back

you’re expecting an apology, something to explain her lack of reply, but all you get is a “hi,” causing you to scoff in annoyance

you try your best to fish it out of her, replying, “hi!! I wondered where you went haha”

when she immediately replies, “what do you mean?” you text, “oh well it said you read my message two days ago”

after the speech bubble pops up then disappears a few times, you laugh out loud at her reply: “oh. I didn’t know you could see that.”

listen, I love her — but like, c’mon, we all know you’re CARRYINGGGG the first conversation. it’s filled to the brim with dry, short, one-worded responses from her, and at one point, you’re pushed to ask, “sooo why did you swipe on me?” since a part of you is wondering if she’s even interested

you nearly delete the conversation when she replies, “I didn’t. my friends did.”

the only redeeming factor is the text she sends a few minutes afterwards, saying, “but, you’re nice, though. they only swiped for me because they said I was overthinking it.”

and that naturally leads you two into a conversation about how much she’s hated dating apps so far LMFAO so you both wind up complaining together, which proves to be a great ice breaker

she has some texting habits that still get you on edge, though, like randomly dropping off the face of the earth for hours to days, and giving you blunt and short responses. even her use of periods sometimes has you biting your lip in nervousness LMAO

but, you can tell she’s trying harder, asking you questions like what you liked about your hometown, or what do you like about your favourite movie genre. you like that about her — her questions aren’t the generic “wyd?” she asks questions that actually allow you to reveal things about yourself, intimate things that really make you feel like you’re sharing these hidden parts of yourself

you eventually adjust to her texting style, slowly figuring out she’s not completely aware of how dry it comes off, and just doesn’t bother with any texting etiquette most people rely on in order to soften their words, like emojis or exclamation points

but, three weeks into texting, when she leaves for an entire two days after you and her had a conversation about your past experiences with romance, you finally crack and ask her, “why do you keep randomly leaving for so long?”

as you had partially expected, she replies with, “I just leave whenever I feel socially drained or get busy. I get caught up with work and won’t reply to messages during that time.”

when you reply neutrally, not exactly sure what’s the fair thing to say, she asks, “does it bother you?” it makes you smile a bit, to know she’s so in tune with your texting style she knows when you’re feeling off. that’s another thing you’ve grown to like about her — she’s perceptive as hell, remembering every little thing you’ve exposed about yourself and able to wind the map of yourself maybe even better than yourself. like, when you mention having high expectations for romance, she muses, “must be the early 2000s romance films,” as though she’s already confident in her ability to read you. and maybe she should be

when you admit you feel a bit hurt when she leaves abruptly without warning, especially if it’s right after you opened up to her, she replies, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

and she doesn’t. it shocks you, really. just how utterly and completely decent she is, how sure she is of ensuring her promise to you doesn’t go broken. she’ll now send you texts like, “work is getting busy, I’ll be back in a few days.” or if she needs to abruptly leave after a certain tender conversation, she’ll always let you know when she’ll be back to continue it. the entire thing makes your heart swell

when you first send her a voice message, it’s to explain a long ass story about a friendship breakup you had. a part of you is scared to, fearing that she’ll find your voice unattractive and maybe like you less. but, you know it’s a necessary step, and she’s bound to hear your voice anyways once you guys meet

so, shakily, heart throbbing, you send her an audio with a trembling voice and lots of — way too many — giggles

when she says nothing about your voice, only remarking on your story, you groan in frustration, nearly screaming in your pillow. you really can’t play any coy, indirect games with her, can you? and so, you send her another message, hoping it doesn’t come off as too serious when you say, “sooo kicking your feet over my voice?”

“kicking your feet?”

shit. of course she doesn’t know the reference

“like,” you text with a grumble, “do you like my voice?”

a bubble pops. then, it vanishes. then, it pops again. and, then: “I do. it’s nice.”

you know it’s barely anything, but still, you beam at your phone like an idiot. and, then, you release a nearly earth-shattering scream when you see an audio message back from her

you pray you like her voice, sucking in a deep breath when you hit play

and immediately, your eyes shut. god. what a goddamn pretty voice she has. it’s light, so airy you feel like it could be carried in the wind, drifting and drifting. and it has this pleasant little edge to it, rough but velvety in its occasional husk. god, you could get drunk off it

one day, when out with friends, you get drunk, high, or maybe just a bolt of courage form their insistence that this lee girl definitely has a thing for you. but, all you know is something triggers a bolt of courage to zap through you, and before you know it, you’re texting her, sloppily texting in the midst of the bumping crowd, “hiiioii I miss you”

she reads it, then to your intense nervousness, doesn’t reply till twenty minutes later, simply saying, “I miss you too”

you pout, replying, “do you really? you took so long to reply”

she immediately responds then, writing out, “I just didn’t know what to say”

“because you didn’t miss me?”

“no. I do miss you. I just am not used to all of this”

your eyebrows furrow. you type out, “all of what?”

“having someone I want to talk to everyday.”

the confession has you holding your breath, the rest of the room becoming drained out white noise as your gaze lingers upon those words, a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach. you bite your lip, texting back, “I feel the same way”

she excuses herself, then, saying she needs to get back to work. but, that doesn’t dissuade you from believing the earnestness of her words. you know she wouldn’t lie just to tell you what you want to hear. no, she truly meant it. and that has you buzzing with a thrill all night

the next morning, after sleeping in an egregious amount after the late night out, the memories of what occurred slowly settle back into your consciousness and you cringe, feeling embarrassed for how exposing you were in your need for her. when you pick up your phone and see she’s messaged you two hours ago, you wince slightly before opening it. but, what meets your eyes has you jolting up in bed with a sharp gasp, mouth dropping

“when can we meet?”

[gracie-eilish]

my love🫂

an: here ya goooo sweet pea☺️

it’s a little shortttttt but i hope u still like it :)

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a soft navy hue across the Malibu sky. The ocean outside your window whispered gentle waves against the shore, a lullaby indifferent to the chaos of the day. But inside your cozy home, the quiet was heavy—not peaceful, but dense, like the air before a storm.

You’d sensed it the moment Billie walked through the door. Her usual energy—whether it was playful teasing or tired warmth—was absent, replaced by a hollow stillness. She didn’t greet you with her typical grin or pull you into one of those lazy hugs she loved, where her arms draped over your shoulders and she’d nuzzle her face into your neck. No, today was different.

She kicked off her shoes with more force than necessary, dropped her bag unceremoniously by the door, and mumbled something about needing a minute. You watched her retreat down the hall, your heart tightening with each step she took away from you.

You gave her space for a little while, knowing Billie could be like that—internalizing, trying to sort through her feelings before sharing them. But as the minutes ticked by, the knot in your chest grew. You couldn’t ignore it. Not when the person you loved most was unraveling behind a closed door.

Quietly, you padded down the hall and found her sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, her back against the side of the bed, knees drawn up to her chest. She wasn’t crying—yet. But her face was tense, her jaw clenched like she was holding the universe inside, refusing to let it spill out. Her fingers fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie—your hoodie, actually, one she’d stolen weeks ago because it smelled like you.

“Baby,” you whispered gently, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and that was it. The dam broke.

A sob escaped her lips, sudden and sharp, like it had been clawing to get out all day. She didn’t try to fight it this time. She didn’t apologize or explain. She just crumpled forward, falling into your arms with the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

You caught her without hesitation, wrapping your arms around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face into your shoulder. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, raw and unfiltered, like she’d been holding them in for too long.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between cries, her fingers clutching desperately at your shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. “I don’t—I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m just—everything feels too much today.”

“Oh, honey,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. Just let it out. I’ve got you.”

And you did. You held her like you’d never let go, rocking her gently, your cheek resting against her hair. You whispered soft reassurances, the kind of words stitched with warmth and safety.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me, okay? You’re safe.”

She clung tighter, her sobs ragged and desperate, pouring out all the frustration she’d tried to bury.

“It was just—everything,” she hiccuped. “I spilled coffee all over myself this morning, then the interview was a mess, and I—I felt like an idiot. And people were just… so mean today. About everything. My music, my face, even the way I talk. I thought I could handle it, but—”

Her voice cracked again, dissolving into more tears.

“Shh, baby, I’m here. None of that matters right now. Just me and you, okay? You’re not an idiot. You’re the smartest, kindest, most talented person I know. And you’re allowed to have bad days.”

She sniffled, her fingers tightening around the fabric of your shirt like she was afraid you might disappear.

“But I should be stronger. I shouldn’t let stupid stuff get to me like this.”

You pulled back just enough to cup her face in your hands, gently brushing away the tears streaking down her cheeks with your thumbs. Her eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and filled with so much sadness it made your heart ache.

“Billie, listen to me,” you said softly but firmly. “Strong doesn’t mean you never break down. Strong means you’re brave enough to feel it. To let it out. You don’t have to hold it all in just to prove something. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

Her lips trembled, more tears spilling over as she whispered, “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know, baby. I know.” You pulled her back into your arms, her head resting over your heart. “But you’re not alone. I’m right here. I’ll hold you as long as you need. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

She melted even further into you, her sobs gradually softening into quiet sniffles. You ran your fingers through her hair, your other hand tracing gentle circles on her back.

After a while, you shifted, guiding her onto the bed. She curled up beside you, her head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your heart as if grounding herself in the rhythm. You kept whispering to her, soft and soothing.

“Do you feel a little better?” you murmured, brushing her hair from her face.

She nodded slightly, her voice small. “Yeah… just tired now.”

“That’s okay, baby. Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt now, calmer but still needing that small connection.

“For what?”

“For being my safe place.”

Your heart swelled, a warmth blooming in your chest that no bad day could ever touch. You kissed the top of her head, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world—because to you, she was.

“Always, my love,” you whispered. “Always.”

And as she drifted to sleep in your arms, her face peaceful at last, you realized that love wasn’t just about the good days. It was about being the person someone could fall apart with, knowing you’d help them put the pieces back together.

You were her safe place. And she was yours.

[bomber-grl]

Laois Touden x Monster! Enthusiast

Pairing(s): Laois x Gn!Reader (platonic)

Art Creds ~ @/toothwormfactory, @/shigeoreum

Req: OMG bless you for having a platonic option, I love some friend-shipping. Can I please request some platonic HCs for Laios from Dungeon Meshi meeting another monster enthusiast, who dungeon crawls in order to sketch monsters. They later make/sell illustrations for dungeon guide books or just as art, but want to create their own comprehensive guide some day.

Plug a lil weird but he chill

Once you inevitably join the party (which was just you meeting them and then getting kidnapped pulled in) he looks out for you like he would any other member

Don’t get me wrong, he will make conversation and yap excessively so but ultimately he is unaware you’re interested in monsters the same way he is

It’s not until he’s done devouring whatever rations you guys had that he notices you’re not eating

(This takes place before Falin disappears in the Dungeon)

Despite it being uncharacteristic for him to get up and go elsewhere while he’s feasting, he notices the fact and goes to ask why/ask you to join

You’re too busy sketching away on your notepad to notice and that’s when he sees it

The most delicious, delectable drawing he’s seen of a harpy

He isn’t one to draw humanoid monsters (in fact he’s terrible at it) but the way you draw the monster parts really has him admiring it fr

That’s when you notice his presence and get surprised that he’s there

That’s his cue to bombard you with compliments and then ask you about why you were drawing it

Almost waiting for you to fess up that you like monsters too

Which you inevitably do

I mean the party at the point isn’t all that personal with eachother (especially Shuro and his attitude with Laois)

It’s only once Laois sees your drawings does he get more nosy and curious about why you’re even in the dungeon to begin with

That’s when you explain that the only reason (or atleast main one) you dungeon crawl is to sketch monsters

The other party members are listening and all they can think of is how stupid that is considering you could get seriously hurt depending on how down you go

Laois agrees with that of course- but during the rest of your time with them he gets more into your business and even tries to help you sketch monsters by bringing them up to you in odd ways

As much as Laois might seem as pestering- he’s also really great to yap to

He’ll just listen especially if it’s about monsters (which it always is) and will even add his little tidbits here and there

You genuinely become one of his go to people to yap to and vise versa

He is pretty sad when you decide to leave the party to pursue something elsewhere (which you won’t disclose with him) but he accepts it

(This occurs before Shuro and Namari leave too)

Timeskip to more recent times where they venture back into the dungeon in order to rescue/find falin, this time with Senshi in tow and bump into you

You were battling a monster and they arrived just in time to witness the aftermath

They all light up (especially Laois) and start chatting with you + you meet Senshi

Eventually you end up joining the party again because it’s just inevitable at this point and after a particularly tasty meal made by Senshi -Laois sits by your side, pulls a book out of his ass, and asks if you drew the illustration in the guide he was now presenting to you

He gives an explanation as to why he’s asking which is just, “I recognized your technique/art style” and then continues looking at you expectantly

Not even a millisecond after you nod your head is he so happy and going on about how he knows a celebrity and even how he loves your drawing and how they’re anatomically correct and how-

Yea.

That’s sort of your cue to explain why you let tint he first place

Aka the fact that you only did so because you wanted to pursue something more while making a living out of it

You also admit- although a bit shyly- that you’d want to make your own guide someday

And he’s absolutely supporting you

Especially since you’re like the few people that enjoy monsters and share the same sentiments as him

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

shadow x reader idea

What If reader works for black doom without knowing his connections to shadow and shadow finds out with leads to a fight of misunderstanding

(Btw reader works for black doom to get the chance to kill bad people)

“Betrayal Where it Hurts Most”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You didn’t want to work for Black Doom. But it was like a symbiotic relationship; you killed bad people, and the Black Arms were fed. But a certain hedgehog wasn’t very happy about that fact.

Notes: Ough, more angst-ish stuff…Guess that means I’m doing a good job each time I write it, though, if you guys keep requesting it! Hope you enjoy!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

This was supposed to be an easy job.

Go in, kill the murderer, get out.

That was your life at this point.

Well…at least in secret.

You didn’t want anyone to find out.

But life was never fair, was it?

As you reach the destination point, the body in hand, you drop it off. Luckily, not a drop of blood is on you, just the way you (and your boss) likes it.

“AH, WELCOME BACK, MORTAL,” your boss, Black Doom, says. “NO ONE FOLLOWED YOU HERE, CORRECT?”

“Correct. I’m the only one here,” you say.

“PERFECT,” he says. “KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. I’LL INFORM YOU WHEN ANOTHER MISSION ARRIVES.”

Black Doom takes the body with one of his hands and he disappears with it.

You let out a sigh.

“You’re doing this to survive, [Name],” you mutter to yourself. “Getting to kill bad people is just a plus.”

You turn around to head home, only to find a familiar black-and-red hedgehog staring at you, a pissed off expression on his face, adorned by a scowl.

“Care to explain, [Name]?” Shadow asks, venom in his voice.

“Look, Shadow, I-” you start.

“Oh, I’d love to hear why you’re working with the one who wants nothing more than to destroy this world and keep me as his mindless servant,” Shadow spats, cutting you off. “You better have a good explanation.”

“Him and I have…an agreement,” you mutter. “I complete missions, specifically killing evil people, for him, and he doesn’t kill me.”

“And how long have you been doing this?” he asks.

“About a year now,” you tell him. “He showed up out of nowhere, nearly killed me, and then decided to spare me, so now I work for him.”

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“I wish you would have told me sooner,” Shadow says. “Look. I’m still upset at you-”

“Rightfully so,” you say.

“Let me finish,” Shadow says. “I’m still upset at you, but I can help you. You won’t have to do his bidding any longer. Not on my watch.”

“Thank you, Shadow,” you mutter. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Yet you’re getting it anyway,” Shadow says.

You were grateful he was in your life.

[dailyriolu]

A silly guide on how I draw normal Riolu vs My sona

[dykedvonte]

Mini rant below and in the tags, the only time I’ll talk about this and my personal take on it.

The way people talk about hypothetical male Anya on Twitter and the idea of how Mouthwashing would play out if the genders were swapped makes me remember how people still don’t take sexual assault and rape with male victims with the same gravity, especially when the perpetrator is female.

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Does anyone else ever worry that you have this unreciprocated want to know what’s going on in your friends lives??

[scoopstomyahoy]

thinking about a no upside down au steddie fic where steve and eddie run into each other years after moving away from hawkins, and eddie remembers steve and his fall from grace as king, and is kind of intrigued to see what kind of person he is now

and steve doesn’t remember him at all at first, because, look, eddie changed his hair again, and steve’s had a few head injuries (no upside down but i imagine he still went thru some shit with the party and with robin), and he didn’t really think about eddie in high school anyway, and he’s trying to forget about hawkins as much as possible (besides the kiddos, but they’re all moved out for college now, anyway) (obviously he lives with robin)

but steve is different now, happier, more open, flirts with guys, flirts with EDDIE, and eddie….. well, he wants to know more! and he tells steve he knows him from hawkins, and steve’s sunny little smile flickers a little, but he just apologizes for not remembering him and mentions he has some memory problems

and they get to know each other, and eventually as eddie tells him more (and maybe with the help of some yearbooks) steve remembers eddie. and. well. they like getting to know each other. and they like each other. and then they get together

eventually they’ve been together for a while, and eddie thinks he wants to maybe introduce steve to wayne, and he mentions he’s going to go back to hawkins for a long weekend (as he’s done a couple times) and this time he’d like steve to join him

and again steve’s sunny smile flickers a bit, but he says he’d love to meet eddie’s uncle, and… they go to hawkins. and it goes well— meeting wayne, at least, but steve seems a little on edge the whole time they’re there, tense when they drive in, fidgety when they go to the grocery store, et cetera. eddie thinks maybe steve is nervous about staying with the man who raised eddie, which is ridiculous, because wayne LOVES steve.

it’s not til they leave the town altogether that steve relaxes, and eddie realizes it wasn’t “meeting the parents” but rather going back to hawkins. and speaking of meeting the parents, steve didn’t ever bring his own up, even though eddie knew they still lived in hawkins. and the way steve glanced around whenever they went in public, like he was scared of getting recognized

and he asks about it, and steve doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he gives eddie snippets of it. people he wanted to leave behind in hawkins, memories that resurfaced, things he wants to forget

eddie goes back to see wayne sometimes, and the first time he doesn’t know whether to ask steve to come, so he just mentions he’s thinking about going to hawkins for some weekend and steve immediately starts making plans with him as if the invite is implicit. they go back to hawkins several more times, steve still tense and pent up the whole time they’re there

over time steve reveals more and more to eddie. everything that made hawkins hell for him, from the things he himself did in high school to the things people did to him. stuff tommy and carol and billy said to him. some of it is just typical high school bullshit (and oh, the nancy thing.) some of it is the tragedies steve went through, the horrors he had to protect his kids from. the injuries he sustained. more generally the homophobia that permeated the whole town, keeping steve from being himself. the lack of support in the indiana public school system for a high school senior who’s had two concussions and gone through incredible trauma.

his parents. the reason why steve’s mail is addressed to ‘steve buckley’ now, not ‘steve harrington’.

(that doesn’t come out until much, much later, and eddie is kicking himself for ever suggesting steve come back to hawkins.)

eddie, who hardly had an easy time of it in hawkins, is absolutely blown away by what steve had gone through in the same town, right under his nose. the entire persona that steve was trying to leave behind — the cool as a cucumber, unaffected, douchey mask he wore to hide all that he had endured. the head injuries. the emotional tragedies he had gone through. the way he had to be the rock for the kids even as he went through the same things as them.

he tries to tell steve they never have to go back to hawkins again, and steve is having none of it. he tells steve wayne can come visit them in their new city, and steve thinks that’s completely unfair to the man who had raised eddie, seriously, you’re going to make him come all the way up here?

and well i don’t know exactly what the ending is but steve is so stubborn about trying to love hawkins because it was eddie’s home and he wants to be able to go see wayne because wayne deserves to see his kid and eddie deserves to see his uncle and steve doesn’t want to be the problem :(