#but his home was destroyed without his knowledge

[antirepurp]

You are a ghost and an echo from a place you cannot go back to

[spritepespi]

I've been having a lot of thoughts about my friends in Gaza recently. Specifically, my friend @ma7moudgaza2 . His GoFundMe has a very low and attainable goal of $25,000, and we can absolutely meet it.

Mahmoud lives with four of his family members in a tent, from which he does his studies. Here are some pictures he sent me of his set up before and after this genocide started. Mahmoud is a user interface designer. The computer he has now is from a friend, as his was lost. His university was destroyed, along with every other, and he can no longer study.

Mahmoud and his family are a few of many who have been repeatedly displaced by the IOF, and it's long since wearing on them. They deserve to sleep without buzzing over their heads and live without the knowledge that they could be martyred at any minute. They are relying on your help, either by way of donations or reblogs, to rebuild their lives. Please help them however you can.

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[little-diable]

Hillbilly Cowboy - Tyler Owens (smut)

I just love writing for him, I don't know why, but damn I l o v e it! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's home gets destroyed by a tornado, but what happens when Tyler Owens and his crew show up to help? Will she accept his offer to find shelter at their house or push him away?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), shower piv, this is filthy, choking, lots of teasing, talks about losing a home, but mainly fluff and smut

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.6k words)

“No, fuck off, I don’t need a hillbilly cowboy like you messing with my stuff.” (Y/n)’s voice was hoarse, trembling with sadness and anger. She had her calloused, bloody fingers pressed into her waist, eyes set on the man who was standing close with a confused expression tugging on his handsome features. 

“We’re just here to help, sweetheart.” He kept his voice quiet, hand stretched out for (y/n) to take. But she no longer could think clearly, distracted by the past hours and the knowledge that all her things were gone, ripped from her by the tornado hitting her and her neighbours homes. 

“I know who you are, I’ve seen those videos. I don’t want somebody who makes money off this destruction around.” She tried to turn from him, urged on by her anger. But (y/n) didn’t get far, losing her balance as her vision suddenly grew blurry.

Tyler Owens was instantly by her side, catching her before her exhausted body could force her to the ground. She was torn between her screaming mind and the way her body seemed to search his closeness, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against hers to protect her from herself. 

“C’mon, at least allow me get some food and water for you first.” This time she didn’t protest, letting him guide her away from the mess she was surrounded by, her no longer standing home and the belongings she hadn’t cherished enough until today. Tears kept dripping from her exhausted eyes, tears she didn't manage to wipe away, not as Tyler gently pushed her into a camping chair, not as he fetched some stuff for her, not even as he crouched in front of her with one hand placed on her knee in a comforting manner. 

“Thank you.” It was just a whisper, but enough to draw a smile onto his handsome face. Wordlessly (y/n) began to stuff some food down her throat, knowing that she needed as much energy as possible. It didn’t take long for her thoughts to start spiralling again, wondering where she’d go from here, knowing that there was nobody around to support her. 

“Fuck, what will I do now? Is there a sleeping shelter? How do I find a new home?” The sadness dripping from her words wiped his smile right off his face while Tyler tightened his grip on her knee. His thumb rubbed gentle shapes into the fabric of her dirty trousers as she got buried by her avalanche of fears and questions. 

“Do you have any friends or family you could call?” She only shook her head, unable to speak another word while her throat grew tight. Tyler kept studying her, letting his eyes wander over her tear stained cheeks. 

“We have enough space in our home, you can gladly stay with us for a while.” He expected her to protest, expecting her to call him a “hillbilly cowboy” like she had done when he had first stepped onto the property and then again a few moments later. But (y/n) kept quiet, staring down at her food and the bottle of water she clung to. 

“Do you really mean that? Are you sure about that?” The slight nod of his head was enough to draw a sigh from (y/n). She let herself ponder over the offer for a few more moments before parting her lips again, knowing that this was her only chance to find shelter without others she didn’t like near. 

“Alright, thank you.” 

……

“Here, this is the bathroom. I’ll ask Lily for some clothes or you can have one of my shirts.” It had been hours since Tyler had stepped into her life, gently pulling (y/n) out of her darkening state before he had begun helping her. They had tried to save whatever they could, packing up bags with belongings that had been scattered around the property. Exhaustion had followed her around, and (y/n) had crashed the second he had guided her to his truck, instantly falling asleep before Tyler had even started driving. 

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” Her voice was quiet, struggling to fill his room while her eyes were focusing on her dirty fingernails. Tyler stepped closer, and with his fingers finding her chin, he tilted her head up towards him, forcing her to get lost in those piercing eyes she had felt on her frame for the past hours. 

“We’re happy to have you around for as long as you want to stay, (y/n). I promise.” She didn’t find any words, could only shoot him a slow nod before he let go of her again. Without speaking another word, Tyler stepped out of the bathroom to give her some privacy, letting (y/n) be alone with her racing thoughts. 

She shuffled out of her muddy clothes, letting them drop to the ground before finding shelter in the shower. The second the warm water hit her skin, her tears started falling again, forcing a sob out of her she didn’t manage to hold in. Her body shook with every sob, drowning in the sadness she had felt ever since her eyes had taken in the destruction of her home. 

Only the sound of Tyler softly knocking on the door – to tell her he had found some clothes for her to wear – managed to pull (y/n) out of her state. She pushed her face under the water, letting it wash away her tears before stepping out of the shower to dry herself. (Y/n) didn’t dare look at her reflection, not wanting to see the lifeless sensation swimming in her pupils to remind her of the mess she was stuck in.

Slowly, she opened the door to Tyler’s room, finding it empty. Her eyes instantly found the big shirt and a pair of shorts he had laid out for her, next to what seemed to be still wrapped up panties. Even though the shorts and underwear seemed to belong to Lily, (y/n) was sure that the shirt was Tyler’s. 

His scent wrapped itself around her as she put on the shirt, reminding (y/n) of the way he had pulled her into his chest a while ago, mumbling to her that everything would be alright. It felt like a sick joke, losing her home the same day she meets a man she had sworn to cuss out only to feel herself drawn to him, a thunderstorm was brewing deep inside of her and Tyler Owens was the cause of it all. 

“(Y/n)?” His soft voice reverberated through the room like a summer breeze, gently cozying her along to draw her gaze towards him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest while his eyes took in her frame. Only as she shot him a reassuring smile did he allow himself to step into the room, moving towards her to pull (y/n) in for another hug. 

She clung to him as if he were her life vest, supporting her body as if it was the sole purpose of his life. No words were shared as he held her, allowing (y/n) to try and ground herself. Too many sensations clashed through her, and yet she found herself being grateful that Tyler was right there to hold and guide her. 

“Food should be ready in a few,” Boone’s voice echoed through the air, ripping the two apart. Tyler kept his hand placed on her waist, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before he stepped away to open the door and guide her downstairs. 

……

“(Y/n), c’mon, sweetheart.” She was ripped out of her sleep by his gentle voice, followed by him shaking her. Sweat was pearling on her forehead, heart racing and hands balled into tight fists. It took her a second to let her eyes find his concerned ones, studying how Tyler was kneeling next to her on his bed, staring down at her. “You’re alright, just a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was small, letting him barely hear it as she sank down on the mattress again. Embarrassment clung to her, filling her system while Tyler was sitting next to her, not daring to leave her side just yet. 

“There’s nothing you have to apologise for, sweetheart.” Tyler squeezed her wrist before he slowly peeled himself away from her. (Y/n) let her eyes study his frame for another second before she spoke up again, letting her hand reach out to find his. With both their eyes set on their hands, (y/n) slowly interlaced their fingers – something that made their hearts skip a few beats.

“Would you stay? Please?” Tyler had taken care of her ever since their paths had crossed almost twelve hours ago, he had taken her in, had held her, had listened to her rambling. And even though she barely knew him, her heart ached for his closeness, needing to be held by him again. 

“Of course I will.” She pushed herself away from the spot she had been resting on, making room for Tyler who laid down next to her. Within seconds, Tyler had wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling (y/n) flush against his front. Her body instantly relaxed, making her feel as if he was the light guiding her out of her darkness, the one who’d lead her to safety if she let him. 

Tyler’s lips pressed a kiss to her hairline, making her breath hitch in her chest. (Y/n) could only try to shuffle even closer while trying to lure herself back into her tired state, suddenly feeling completely awake. 

“I’m sorry for being so mean to you.” She mumbled the words, barely able to let them roll off her tongue while embarrassment threatened to drown her. Tyler’s chest shook as a laugh left him, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. The smile tugging on his lips was all too bright, leaving her chuckling while her hand started to move on its own, cupping his cheek to feel his warm skin pressing against hers. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You are allowed to call me a hillbilly cowboy anytime you want.” Now it was on (y/n) to laugh, to momentarily close her eyes to shake off the heat crawling up her spine like dark clouds forming a storm so intense she’d have to live through it all once again. Tyler’s hand danced up and down her spine, touching the spots that were buzzing with heat, leaving her breathless. 

“Careful, Owens, otherwise I will keep on calling you that.” His hand stopped moving, resting on her lower back to pull her slightly closer. With one of her legs finding its rest between his, Tyler kept her trapped. She felt his breath ghosting her lips, making (y/n) awfully aware of their closeness. 

“I would be honoured.” (Y/n) slightly shook her head, letting another soft laugh rumble through her while her hand moved from his cheek to his lips. Softly she traced his cupid’s bow, finding herself wondering how it must feel to kiss him. A thought he seemed to pick up on while tilting his head down further, about to close the gap between them. 

“Will you let me kiss you?” His question was met with a widening smile. And then everything stopped spinning and moving, no longer spiralling down the rabbit hole her anxious mind had pushed her into. Suddenly everything was still, nothing could be heard besides their gasps as Tyler kissed her. 

It was a careful kiss at first, letting both of them adjust while her hand dropped from his face to his shirt. She fisted the fabric as if she was desperately trying to hold onto him, all while Tyler pushed her even closer with his hand still resting on her lower back. 

“Let’s get some sleep in you first before I properly tire you out.” Tyler whispered the words against her lips, unable to bite down his grin while she stared up at him. (Y/n) only rolled her eyes at him, trying to turn from him though without much success, letting go of another laugh as Tyler kept her caged to him. 

……

It was still early as she woke again, still pressed against Tyler’s front. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the kiss, the way he had held onto her, how he had touched her with more care than she probably deserved. She gave herself another moment to soak up his closeness before she peeled herself out of his hold. 

With her eyes set on his sleeping frame, she crawled out of the bed to make her way towards the bathroom. For the first time since stepping foot into this house, (y/n) allowed herself to look at her reflection in the mirror. A smile tugged on the corner of her lips before she turned towards the shower. Tyler’s shirt fell to the floor, her panties following moments later. 

She was too distracted by the feeling of the warm water cascading down her back to hear the door being pushed open, allowing Tyler to study her. His eyes danced up and down her frame for a second before he stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him – a sound that told her all about his nearing presence. 

(Y/n) didn’t react to it, she didn’t turn towards Tyler – patiently waiting for him to take the next step. Perhaps she was insane, perhaps this was something she should run from, and yet she didn’t feel the need to run, no, all she wanted was to be close to him. Seconds kept fading by, seconds where she wondered if she should turn towards him after all, but then she felt him near, front pressed against her back with one arm finding its way around her waist. 

“Morning,” his raspy voice left her shuddering. Goosebumps rose on her skin, growing in number the second his lips found her neck, softly kissing her wet skin. 

“Morning,” she repeated the word. With a soft sigh, (y/n) turned in his grasp, letting her arms find their way around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. The kiss grew deeper instantly, forming a mess of tangled limbs and tongues, letting their hearts race in sync. Tyler pushed her back against the shower wall with one leg resting between her thighs, pressing against her heat. 

“So, will you tire me out now?” Her teasing words left her without much strength, breathless from the shared kiss. A fire was burning in his pupils, growing stronger with every touch, every shared moment, and neither of them wanted to tame it. 

“Only if you know how to ask for it nicely.” A beat passed between them, then another, all while her smirk grew and her hands began to wander down to his chest. His muscles grew tense beneath her touch, leaving her buzzing for more. 

“Fuck me, Tyler. Pretty please.” His lips found hers again, silencing her rambling self while his hands explored her body. Every touch of his managed to set another part of her ablaze, a wandering fire that left its mark on her body, never fading to remind her of this moment – of how she gave herself to a man she barely knew.

“I can’t wait to have my way with you, to tie you up and fuck you stupid.” His words left her moaning in need, allowing her mind to paint all these pictures. The feeling of his calloused fingertips finding her pulsing bundle managed to distract (y/n), letting her head roll back to expose her neck to Tyler’s lips. His lips left their own marks on her soft skin while his hands took care of her every need, rubbing her bundle as he pushed two fingers into her. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, feels like you were made for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) gave herself a few moments, allowing him to push her closer to her high with simple movements that felt better than ever before. But she was hungry for more, desperate to feel him resting on her tongue to make him feel whatever it was she found herself addicted to now. She pushed Tyler away with a soft grin, looking up at him to distract him from her wandering hand, how it found its way to his twitching cock. 

With her teeth leaving marks on her lower lip, (y/n) sank to the ground, staring up at Tyler with an all too innocent gaze. His raspy moans filled the bathroom, growing louder the second she parted her lips to give his tip a soft lick. He was throbbing for her, needing more – whatever she was willing to offer. 

“Atta girl, let me in.” She slowly took more of him, feeling him resting on her tongue, allowing (y/n) to feel every part of the soft skin. Tyler’s hand was buried in her hair, keeping his strong hold on her as if he was about to prepare himself for another rodeo, set on winning every single prize. And he’d win them all, with grace, with her mewling his name and the silent promise that from today on he was the only one to make her feel this blinding high. 

His strong hold encouraged her to move, to bob her head while her hand took care of the parts she couldn’t reach without choking. Tyler looked like a god, towering over her with his muscular body on show, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes glistening with an intensity she’d never forget again, sure that she had just found her new favourite colour. 

(Y/n) hummed around him as his hips jerked, forcing his cock further down her throat. The way she looked up at him, eyes filled with encouragement, was enough for Tyler to start fucking her mouth, using her as if they had done this numerous times before. She allowed him a few thrusts, giving him just enough to push him into that drunken head state that would slow his movements, distracting him from the way she was about to pull away. 

“What-,” his question was cut short as she rose back to her feet and met his lips for a kiss. All tongues and teeth to perfectly express the need both were set on, guiding them towards the high both were aching for. 

“I want you to cum when you fuck me.” She looked all too innocently while speaking words like this, robbing Tyler of his strength to fight back. With a smirk thrown her way, he pushed her against the tiles, keeping her caged between his broad frame and the wall he was about to fuck her against. “I have an IUD, and I’m clean.” 

“Me too, but fuck, are you sure? I don’t mind grabbing a condom.” Her soft chuckles were paired with another kiss she pressed against his puffy lips. She clung to Tyler as her hand found its way back to his aching cock, giving it a few more tugs before guiding him closer. Tyler could only push her hand away, replacing it with his own to align himself with her heat and to push into her. Her walls fluttered around him, instantly teasing the man who tried to hold himself back from fucking her too hard, not wanting to leave her bruised after their first time together.

“Behave, sweetheart.” The command was met with a laugh rumbling through her, a laugh that turned into a moan as he bottomed out, leaving her full and stretched. Her fingernails were clawed into his skin, holding onto Tyler while he started fucking her with perfectly calculated thrusts. 

“Where’s the fun in that? I thought you’re all about taming wild things.” His hand found her throat, pinning (y/n) back against the tiles while giving her a silent warning. Tyler’s grip wasn’t strong enough to cut off her airstream, and yet just enough to heighten her senses. They struggled to hold eye contact, even as Tyler wrapped one of her legs around his waist to fuck her even deeper, making her feel every inch of him. 

“I’ll take my time taming you, you’ll lose your will to fight quickly enough, baby.” The words were rasped into her ear, making her tremble against him. His thrusts met her swollen spot shaking straight through her while his hand kept a tight hold on her throat, not giving (y/n) a chance to pull away. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” She didn’t dare protest, not when her orgasm was all too close. (Y/n)’s fingers found her heat, rubbing her bundle to make herself cum, while Tyler kept snapping his hips. Moans clawed through the both of them, filling the bathroom while she choked on his name, letting her orgasm wash through her.

“Cum inside of me, please.” It was all he needed to hear to fall over the edge, letting go with another raspy sound. He imprinted himself on her walls, clinging to her as both their bodies shook from the intensity of their orgasms, making them all too aware of how perfect they fit together. 

“If you always fuck like this, I will never leave this place willingly again.” (Y/n)’s confession drew a loud laugh out of Tyler. He pulled out of her while keeping a strong grip on her, only to pull her in for another sloppy kiss.

“Would that be so bad, sweetheart?”

[fallenhunnyapple]

Some Baby Savior AU Expansion

This is an Adamsapple AU because I love them they have taken over my life. I'm sorry in advance because there's a lot going on and I'm bad at being succinct.

This AU works under the Assumption that Adam didn't Die to get into Heaven. He was Ascended while he was still alive as a 'reward' for staying 'good', having not eaten of the Fruit of Knowledge. But his children were still tainted because of their mother, and so while they were still young, the eldest still only being in their teens, he was taken away from them to stay safe in Heaven.

Also, there are yearly meetings held a week after Exterminations where Lucifer and Adam (and Lute) meet in order to discuss quotas, numbers, etc. They're mandatory as per the agreement.

So-

Lilith left Lucifer while Charlie was still just an infant and he had to raise her alone. It was Difficult and when Lucifer was Busy, Charlie spent a lot of time being watched by her Aunts and Uncles, the Sins. But he foolishly let himself trust the people of his ring once and they took advantage, an Overlord trying to vy for more influence hired someone to steal the Princess and hold her hostage. The night before the Extermination.

Lucifer is already overworked and stressed and now having his daughter kidnapped made him lose his mind and go on a full rampage, destroying part of Pentagram City in his blind rage and panic. Which, Great for the Exorcists as long as they keep out of his way because that means they can pick off all the freaked out and fleeing sinners.

And it's during this panicked frantic mess that Adam quite literally drops in on these shady sinners (through the ground because of Hell's shitty infrastructure) who try to Kill him. Surprise, Angelic Steel weapons are being manufactured and they can Hurt Angels. They're still no match for Adam, so he kills them, but not without getting nicked by a few bullets, his arm injured, his wing useless, and his mask a little shattered. And then he hears a fussy crying sound and finds a baby hidden in a nearby crate. Pale with cute red cheeks and golden hair. She reminds him of someone. And she reminds him of his youngest daughter the last time he saw her... Well, she's hellborne, so he wasn't going to kill her anyway. Maybe he'll just take her home with him and he can puppy dog eyes at Sera until she let him keep her!

But he can't fly with these injuries, so he needs to go to the Embassy where he knows Lute and his girls will be waiting for him. But the Embassy is really close to Lucifer's rampage zone. What's he being so insane about anyway? And after almost becoming collateral, and Adam Yelling at him, it clicks. Those red cheeks were familiar for a reason. She must be his kid. There go his plans for bringing her with him. And here he was picking out a name and everything : / He can't bring himself to hate her or to take her away from her dad when he's obviously so upset. It's Begrudgingly that he gets Lucifer's attention to give the baby back. He's attached to her now.

A week after the Extermination, there's a meeting. To discuss the use of Angelic Weapons in hell, to find out who and how they're being made and distributed and ending that production immediately. And Lucifer can't exactly trust anyone in Pride anymore so Charlie comes to the meeting. She's happy to see the weird Kitty again. Adam is Thrilled to see her and spends a good chunk of the meeting making silly faces to make her laugh.

This becomes Normal, Charlie coming to the meetings, too young to understand anything but excited to get to see Adam. She has very clearly gotten attached to him.

Many years pass (Charlie is over 200 years old, and I assume that means super slow aging so she's developmentally 6 years old) and Adam tells Lucifer to not bring Charlie to the meeting. Lucifer agrees and leaves her with Bee in Gluttony. At the meeting, Adam is there in person, pacing and stressed. Lucifer arrives to find him in that state and Adam breaks down, begging on his knees for Lucifer to keep him in Hell. He can't go back to Heaven. They're going to make him remarry Lilith and she's probably into pegging and he doesn't want to be pegged.

Lucifer tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Lilith is in Heaven. Adam feels a little guilty but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't force Lilith to go home and stop being a deadbeat Mom. Lucifer is Mad that Adam never told him Lilith was in Heaven, he knew how much of a struggle he was having without her. Adam tries to make excuses and reverts to begging again, saying they won't let him leave Heaven again if he goes back. And that hits a cord. Lucifer's angry about the thing with Lilith, but Charlie didn't know her mother. She knew Adam though, and he doesn't want her to go through the pain of losing someone important to her. Okay, he'll help keep Adam safe in Hell so Heaven can't get to him. And by that Point, Adam was reminded that there's a chance that Heaven might come after Charlie so actually he'd be staying regardless so he can keep an Eye on Charlie and keep her safe.

Unbeknownst to Adam though, Lucifer has a secret. He'd fallen in love with him. It's 100% because of seeing how good Adam is with Charlie. Charlie is Lucifer's Everything, she is the most important thing in his life and she likes and gets along with Adam and Adam clearly cares for her and that means more than anything else could. And he's in love because of it. But he doesn't tell Adam that.

Together Adam and Lucifer raise Charlie, they're Dad/Daddy and Dadam (Adam came up with it because actually being called a nickname for father reminded him too much of the kids he didn't get to see grow up). And when Charlie gets old enough to move out on her own, Empty Nest Syndrome kicks in. But in the "we're not raising a kid together anymore, we should go our separate ways" kinda way. Because the entire time Lucifer never said anything about his feelings so they'd been Platonically co-parenting for over a century while Lucifer pined.

Charlie finds out that Adam is thinking of moving out and panics because she thinks this means her dads are getting a divorce. She never knew they weren't married. She never knew they weren't even Together. Because they sure Seemed to love each other all those years! She tries to encourage her dad to tell Adam how he feels and he does. It doesn't go well. Adam doesn't believe it, he refuses. (And it's not because he doesn't love him, Adam has loved him consistently since Eden) But he just can't accept it and decides it's Definitely better to move out. Lucifer goes into a depressive isolated episode while Adam is out there going on week long Benders to try and cope. The Sins have to get involved once Charlie reaches out, worried about both of them because Lucifer is barely responsive and Adam is dismissive. Ozzie tries to find out what's going on with Lucifer and Bee is taking care of the doped up drunken depressed mess that is Adam, she knows how to deal with drunks.

The Sins and Charlie are going to help them sort out their shit so they can actually try to be happy together the way they should have been the whole time. That's about where the conversation's ended for now. Orz this is long

Gonna @ the people who seemed interested in more info @lordxsblog @fightinsoda

[bitter-me]

Can you do Boothill with a male reader who has the abilities of Absolute Solver from murder drones

Male reader went missing after the ICP destroyed Boothill's homeland. Many years later, Boothill and the other met male reader but male reader already got possessed by the Solver

I want an angst with a happy ending story please

Absolute

Boothill | M. Reader as the Absolute Solver [Murder Drones]

----------

"The flesh demands invitation."

----------

"What are you doing all smiling like that?"

"Huh? Oh nothing."

[Name] narrowed his eyes at Boothill's words, not believing it. He says it was nothing, but his scans say otherwise. The other can't help but laugh at [Name] expression, those neon [Color] eyes that narrowed on his visor. "I was just thinking about what to get my daughter."

"I see, got any ideas yet?"

"I'm thinking..."

Without saying anything else, [Name]'s visor changes to that of a shopping list. "Well there are countless gifts you could get from across the galaxy so—"

"Wait wait wait!"

His visor glitches and goes back to normal. [Name] looked at Boothill for a second seemingly confused. What was that about?

"I want to make it special."

"Oohh.." [Name] blurred out as he finally understands. "If you're going to handmade it. I could help if you like."

"Heh, thanks [Name]."

For as long as he knows [Name], the robot is a kind person who's happy to help those in need. He was a joy. Everyone was. Everyone on his home planet was a joy, like a small neighborhood. Everyone gets along with one another, there's rarely any conflict it's just a nice and welcoming place. Home.

Therefore [Name] didn't deserve this, none of them deserved this. It's outrageous. What did they do? What kind of sin did they commit to have on this planet. Their home. Destroyed in such a way.

As Boothill look at the surrounding fire and destruction of his home, he began to search around the area. Any place he thinks people will be at. Anywhere.

There are at least survivors right? Surely there are some people who survived this.. who saw the attack an immediately run towards a safe place.. surely..

Right..?

But nothing..

Boothill find nothing but ashes and ruins of once someone's home.

Everything..

..is destroyed.

Why.. why does this have to happen? He was happy. They were happy! What did they do to deserve this?

SCREW THE IPC!!

----------

"Upgrading models? cutting maintenance costs? There are many reasons the client may wish to disassemble a drone individual or a series after a period of use. Following these two simple steps is key to avoid—"

"Incompletely disassemble drones may occasionally reboot from software death alone. More than undead federal fine hazards. Its corrupted AI carries an increased risk of future errors."

.

.

.

He stood there completely motionless. How is he supposed to react to that? After so many years...

Staying at the Express may be the best call for him. It's a free ride after all. Not to mention everyone is quite nice. Dan Heng was even willing to show him the Data Bank but...

This is one of them..? One of the information they've obtained during their travels? Don't get him wrong, it's useful, incredibly useful. But... if Boothill were to obtain such knowledge long ago..

He would have properly disassembled him.

To prevent such a fate from happening to someone he holds in high regards. If he were to do that... none of this would have happened!!

He—it screeches as it tries to get out of its restraints. That's not him. That's not [Name]!!

This was just another planet. One where the Nameless has set their sights on. They thought it was just another Stellaron Crisis. But... this is not the work of a Stellaron.. but the work of a drone that's not been properly disassembled.

It continues to screech as the researchers expose the drone to the artificial sunlight. It screeches in pain and agony as the researchers run around, trying to put a stop to this... thing..

He can't watch this.. he can't watch this any longer.

Without saying another word Boothill leave the Cathedral to get some fresh air. He can't. He just can't watch that.. whatever they were doing to someone he cared for.

----------

"MacGuffin." The robotic voice echoes throughout an empty.. bloody.. ruined.. Cathedral.

Is this the type of thing the Nameless has to handle? Not the Absolute Solver no no... Fighting for your muddle fudgling life! Dodging an attack Boothill ready his revolver and shoot the claw-like thing.

It laughs at their attempts. It's six against one and yet they're losing how pathetic! "Thank you for the new host." It stated casually before narrowing avoiding an attach by Himeko's laser with a smirk on it's face the Solver summons it's claws once more and began it's onslaught of attacks. In a blink of an eye, all of them experience multiple near death situations left, right, and center. Fighting someone who can regenerate is cheating! They could be here for all of eternity!

Where's the cure!?

Its perpetual grin seems to widen every time any of them try to harm it which of course never worked as the Solver's regeneration rate is incredibly high. It laughs, summoning a miniature blackhole that was quickly disabled by Welt as he attack the Solver. "Have any of you find it get?" "No, we're still looking!" March replied, firing an arrow at one of it's claws while looking around for the crucifix that holds the data. The cure for the Solver. "Well I'm sorry, but fighting while searching is not easy!" Caelus cuts in, looking around the place as he ducks under the benches to avoid a stray attack. "Just focus on searching, we'll try to cover you!" Dan Heng stated firmly, using his powers as a  Vidyadhara to at least land a critical attack on the Solver.

With each attack the Solver just keep regenerating! But each time they themselves is inching closer to their own demise! Boothill took cover as he reload his bullets while looking at his surroundings for any potential threats. But something else caught his eye..

It's the crucifix!

Quickly taking it from the bloody floor, Boothill examine it for a moment, making sure it's the real deal. After a quick and swift examination, the usb connector pops out at the bottom of it. It's real alright. The cure for the Solver and the key to ending this nightmare.

"Cover for me!" He signaled before making a run for it. The Nameless did their best to keep the Solver at bay until Boothill does the finishing blow and slammed the crucifix usb model straight into the drone's visor and just like clockwork it let out a glitched robotic groan as it tries to take out the crucifix and in its efforts the cure done it's job. Motionlessly throws crucifix away the drone immediately slump to the floor.

Looking amongst themselves, the Nameless stood their ground not knowing whether the fight is over or is the Solver playing tricks on them. With caution Boothill slowly approached his old friend. Surely he's still there right? The Solver is dead. The patch worked! It has to work! Or else it....

Kneeling in front of him Boothill extended his hand. Waiting for a respond from the other. Anything! Much to their surprise the drone took the other's hand, slowly looking up, revealing it's---no, his neon [Color] eyes on his visor while the crack where they inserted the patch is slowly being healed. Yes! It worked! Letting out a dry, pained laugh Boothill gave [Name] a tight embrace. He's back. His old friend's back.

[marieracingteam]

Lancey and his Lilybug – ls.18

stepdad!Lance Stroll | series

word count: 2990

summary: The day Lance realised he will never be dad to his baby.

Lance knew Lily wasn’t his. He knew. He reminded himself of it every day to see if, by force of repetition, he would memorize it.

But nothing seemed to work when he came back home to her steps running down the stairs.

So he forgot. Or maybe he ignored the truth.

He forgot while he was playing dolls with her. He forgot during bathtime when the whole bathroom was covered in bubbles and marks of the Bathroom Crayons they had just bought. He forgot when the food her mother had cooked for them was her least favorite –even if it was her favorite last week– and they had to play flights with it so she would eat it. He forgot while he was driving and could only think about home. And he forgot when she would wake them up at night time so she could sleep between them, even if he had an early morning waiting for him.

He forgot most of the time.

However, he couldn’t forget it this time. At that moment, Lance couldn’t pretend to ignore the truth any longer.

Lily wasn’t his daughter, she would never be.

Even with his ring on her mom’s finger and their names in the housing registry he bought.

Even if he was the one she called when she was sick.

Lance wasn’t her real dad. His name wasn’t on the list. And nothing will change it. Not even his father's last name.

“I am really sorry Mr. Stroll, but only the immediate family can enter the intensive care unit. I understand your frustration, but there is nothing I can about about it” said the nurse again.

“Listen, if this is about money…” his father kept going but Lance was no longer listening.

The corridor that separated them, which became increasingly endless, was now his only breathing space. As he walked through it he could only think that Lily was not his. Which was curious when he thought about how much time he had spent ignoring that detail.

Lily was in there and he could only be out there.

When only a door separated them, Lance stood in front of the small glass. Through it, he could only see another white hallway and a doctor passing by, but he still didn't dare to look away.

He knew if father was calling him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the crystal. The nurse had allowed him to stand them as long as he didn’t try trespassing and he was going to take advantage of that piece of mercy as much as he could.

“Son”, his father tried again.

And that word made Lance want to fall to the ground and stay there till it all stopped.

Son. He was someone’s one. Just like Lily was someone's daughter.

But not his. Never his.

She was the daughter of someone who wasn’t even going to come see her. And he was the son of someone who would have to live with the knowledge that his granddaughter would never have his last name.

“She will be alright. You heard your fiancée. She will be fine.”

But his father hadn’t seen the state the car was in.

He had not had to drive faster than the legal speed to reach a car that was destroyed and from which his family was being taken.

He had not been separated from his family at the door of a hospital because they were nothing of his.

His father had always been there with him. He had always been at the foot of his children's beds. He had always held their hands when they needed him most. Even when it was just a chipped tooth.

Lance couldn’t even see her through a window.

He could just stare at an empty hallway and wait.

And wait he did. He waited for hours standing there. Just moving once to let a doctor open the door and enter the area he could never pass into. He waited until his father had to sit and he waited until the nurse clocked out and a new one came by. He waited while his father tried again without any result. He waited while his cell phone didn't ring.

And when he thought he couldn’t wait any more a door opened in the hallway and a nurse appeared pushing a bed.

A bed too big for such a small body.

And he knew like he supposed any father would. He knew that was his baby.

His fiancée was the first to see him as she walked out of the room. Her head and one of her arms had been bandaged and a slight limp made him realize that one of her legs must have also been injured, but she had not been the one who had received the biggest blow from the drunk driver.

She slightly smiled at him with a sorry expression and she silently turned to the nurse, who also gave him a look before turning the bed and directing it towards the door so that he could see the little girl.

He tried calling his father, but nothing came out of him when he saw her there.

She had a few scratches on her face and arms –the only parts of her that weren’t covered by the sheet– but she seemed to be healthy despite everything.

The ambulance had taken her directly to the intensive care unit of the emergency room after removing her from the back of the car, which had been completely destroyed. Everything had happened so fast that he hadn't been able to see her for even a moment when he arrived. Afterward, Lance had only had a second to talk to his fiancée before she could come in to see her daughter.

When Lily saw him, Lance could have sworn his heart stopped completely. He damned the door when he couldn’t hear her little voice saying his name or reach her and touch her like he had been praying to.

She waved her small hands as she hadn’t expected him to be there. And he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

His fiancée grabbed her phone –which was cracked and didn’t function completely fine– and he copied her almost knocking it to the ground.

“Lancey!” shouted Lily as soon as the call connected. The video didn't work, but he didn’t need it to see them through a screen when he had them in the flesh before his eyes.

“Baby!” he cried back almost colliding with the glass.

“Lancey! I missed you!”.

“So did I baby, so did I. Are you ok? Does anything hurt?” he asked her without taking his eyes off the small window.

“A little. They are going to put a bandaid on, but they don’t have the dinosaurs ones” she explained like nothing had really happened, as if a car driving at more than 100km on a conventional road had not crashed into her door at a red light.

“They said she is fine. The car seat you bought her stopped most of the blow. She only has some injuries from the flying glass. They still have to do an MRI, but they believe that everything will be fine. Now they are going to do the test and if everything goes well they will move us to a room to spend the night under surveillance.” His fiancée explained with tears in her eyes, still in shock from the crash.

Lance could only nod at that while trying to process everything. He didn’t even feel his father's presence behind him.

“You may not be in here but you saved her” she whispered while her daughter threw kisses at him from her bed. He nodded again, remembering the car seat he always made them carry when they visited him. It was crazy expensive and a hulk to carry, but a traffic safety expert had told him it was the best on the market and Lance had refused to drive any car with Lily that didn't have it. He had even bought one for his father’s and sister’s car and another one for Lily's biological father for a car she had never been in Still, he would have preferred never to need it.

His father pressed his head to his son's so he could see the little girl through the window, who immediately began calling him on the phone.

While they spoke, Lance's fiancée moved closer to the window and put her hand in the crystal. Her ring crashed in the process, making the glass vibrate. Lance quickly followed her.

“I’m sorry. I love you” she muttered the words making him repeat them instantly.

Before this, they knew how things worked. Of course they did. It took a while for Lance to be able to pick up Lily from daycare because of the paperwork both parents had to sign. They knew that the relationship they had did not magically make Lance a legal guardian of the little girl. Even so, the hospital's refusal to let Lance in despite the couple's requests had been like a bucket of cold water for both of them.

“We love you” she repeated and he just nodded in tears watching them leave again.

However, this time the wait seemed shorter.

Even though his fiancée's phone had completely died, Lance knew that they were both safe and well and that he would soon be able to see them and hold them in his arms when they were taken to one of the hospital rooms.

So he tried not to focus too much on what had happened. He tried again to ignore the fact that he was still behind a door and think about how soon everything would return to normal.

He tried hard enough, but the door was still there and when the nurse told him he could visit them in their room, she referred to him as a visitor and not a family member.

His father didn’t seem to mind, but he knew he did. Of course, he did. He was just trying to keep his composure for the sake of his son.

But how could he not mind? How could he be okay with his son having to see his family secretly while the girl's real father hadn't even bothered to call?

How could he be okay when his son had called him desperate because his fiancée and his little girl had had an accident on the way to the paddock? No matter what last name they had, they were his family.

When Lance arrived at the room he felt like he was going to pass out. The wait had been long and exasperating. The not knowing had been almost worse than receiving the news in the first place.

But now nothing mattered anymore. Now he was there and so were they.

“Lancey!” the girl shouted from the bed when she saw the driver at the door.

His fiancée turned around immediately and when she smiled letting him know that everything was fine they both breathed for the first time since the accident.

He almost felt dizzy when he started to breathe normally and his muscles relaxed for the first time in the last two hours. But he walked anyway to the bed, almost running, and to the little girl in there.

He didn’t mind he was still in the team wear, he didn’t care about anything else as he held Lily in his arms.

“Are you ok, baby girl?” he whispered in her hair “Are you ok?” he said as he checked her again and again without letting go of her as he had done with his fiancée before.

“Yeah! They gave me candy because they said I was very brave. But look! They did hurt a lot before” Lily explained while showing Lance the scratches the doctor had already disinfected.

“I am sure you were, baby. That was scary, right?”

“A little. But mommy was with me and she said you were coming to save us”

At that, Lance’s fiancée finally approached them again, letting Lance have his moment with the little girl.

“And he was,” she confirmed while stroking Lance’s back “Lancey was there the whole time”.

But Lily wasn’t happy with that answer. Even if she was well-behaved for an almost six-year-old, she still was a child who didn’t fully understand the grown-up's problems.

“The doctor said you couldn't be with me because you are not my daddy. Is it because I don't call you dad?” Lily asked while she hugged him tighter.

Lance pulled away a little to see her face while they were talking and, from the corner of his eye, he saw how his father moved away from the foot of the bed to let them talk more privately.

“No baby, this isn't your fault. At all.” Lance let her know, firm but loving “You are my good girl, aren’t you?”.

They had already spoken about the “dad” thing before. Her biological father had told her that only he could be dad the last time he saw her a year ago when the girl innocently told him that her mother was going to marry the driver. And Lance hadn't pushed her when his fiancée told him what had happened.

He wanted to, obviously. He dreamed about it most nights. But he understood. And then he forgot he wasn't really her dad. Even when she called him Lancey and he heard her call dad someone she only spoke to once a month over the phone if she was lucky.

Lily left his embrace completely and immediately started crying “I lied” she confessed between tears and whines “I told the doctor I would call you dad but I don't want you to be my dad. I just wanted you with me”.

She cried so hard that a nurse had to come in. Not even her mother could calm him as she cried the same again and again. “Please don't be my dad. Please”.

Lance felt stuck there. He felt like he was again before that door. Useless. Unable to do anything to change the situation over which he had no control.

Lily was high on meds. He could see some still being pumped into her through an IV. That's what he said again and again to himself as he heard his girl begging him to not be her dad.

Lily loved him deeply, almost as much as he did. He knew, he felt her love every day. He knew her love was real even if he didn’t see her some weekends because he was working. He knew she trusted him enough to wake him up when she had a nightmare. He knew she would sleep with them every night if her mom let her. He knew.

However, her cries were there, rejecting him again and again, almost knocking him down with each tear.

“I won't be your dad, Lily. I promise, baby” he said as tears also streamed down his cheeks.

She was holding his hand tightly and used it to wipe her face before speaking again. “I don't want you to be my dad. I want Lancey!” she cried stronger if that was possible.

Her mom got into bed with her as her last effort to calm her down. She was looking at him as he imagined he was looking at her.

However, this was not the time to think about himself. Nothing about that day had anything to do with him. Now he had to think about Lily and her fiancée. He would have time to lick his wounds later.

When the nurse came back again he knew he had to leave before they showed him the door. He may not know how, but he was the cause of her distress. Which was a little bit funny considering he always was her protector before.

“Everything will be alright, Lily. I will let you rest now, baby. I love you” he said kissing her temple and letting go of her hand.

Nevertheless, that didn’t work as he hoped.

“Lancey!” she screamed as she watched him leave.

Even though her mother was holding her, Lily tried to get out of her arms to get out of bed, pulling on the IV and causing the nurse to have to hold it to prevent her from accidentally tearing it out.

“You are not my daddy!” she cried one last time. A scream so heartbreaking that Lance was holding her before he was even aware was going to do it. “Please, don't leave like my dad. I want you to be Lancey forever. My Lancey.”

With that, his fiancée silently cried as she made space for him in the small hospital bed, finally understanding everything. So did Lance’s father, who always knew she was his granddaughter without needing a last name or a title.

Lance didn’t say a word as he lay in bed holding Lily in his chest minding the IV and grabbing his fiancée's hand.

“I will always be your Lancey, Lilybug” he whispered as she finally relaxed in his arms.

“We are going to be alright, love” his fiancée said as she caressed his hand “We don’t need titles to be perfect”.

He just nodded, forgetting everything that didn’t really matter. He forgot the door and the wait too when Lily fell asleep in his chest, safe and sound.

He only let go of them when he remembered the thing he always carried in his wallet close to the picture of the three of them they had taken last year.

Without waking her up, Lance put the dinosaur bandaid on her arm on the tape that held the IV.

His fiancee hugged tighter as he did and he forgot the rest of the day and the fact that Lily wasn't his daughter.

Because he was her Lancey and she will always be her baby. And that was more than many fathers could say.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

[eggluverz]

WE REALLY WERE TIMELESS

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader (also dan feng x reader ig!)

WORD COUNT. 3,722

SUMMARY. dan heng does not want to remember his previous reincarnation, but there is one part he doesn't want to let go of forever— you.

SOF'S NOTE. i was listening to taylor swift's timeless and thinking about how much i love dan heng...and this was born :3 i love him sm and i def feel like love with dan heng could transcend all lifetimes <3 pls enjoy if ur a fellow dh lover :>

Dan Feng was many things. Cold and ruthless, some said. A merciless killer, said others. Revered and powerful, was the more popular and favorable opinion. But, what most people seemed to wipe from their memories was that he was also a lover.

A lover to you, at least. You, and only you. 

His days as the Imbibitor Lunae were long and laborious. He lead countless battles to destroy threats and rescued Xianzhou fleets from annihilation. 

Dan Feng was used to spending long periods away from home, but when he returned, he knew he would at least be greeted by you. 

Occasionally, you were there fighting alongside him. Capable and strong. But most of the time, you preferred using your strengths to continue studying and advancing medicine. You were compassionate and knowledgeable, and you wanted to help your injured allies rather than cause more destruction.

His favorite moments with you involved the little leisure time he had between battles when he was able to stay in his residence with you, wrapped in your embrace. 

Dan Feng, proud member of the High-Cloud Quintet, was left speechless and in awe at the sight of you. Those nights you spent together were filled with both heat and passion, and attention and love. Every moment he spent with you was intentional; he never took those times for granted. 

Of course, those times couldn’t last. 

Be it his selfishness, his arrogance, his drive to help his friend—he lost you. Not because you shunned him or turned him away, but simply because he was forced to reincarnate and locked away without the ability to say even a simple goodbye. 

His love, lost in the blink of an eye. And he may never see you again. 

Now, as Dan Heng, he was almost in denial when Jing Yuan informed him you forcibly reincarnated as soon as you heard the news of the Sedation of Inhibitor Lunae and slipped away from the Xianzhou Luofu. 

What were you to Dan Heng? Dan Feng was no longer here and Dan Heng did not want to claim his past. 

Imbibitor Lunae was not him. Renowned member of the High-Cloud Quintet was not him. 

But when Jing Yuan spoke your name, memories of his previous life rushed through him. If he didn’t acknowledge his past, would that mean you had no chance of ever being his again?

Dan Heng had no attachment to the name Jing Yuan. Yingxian no longer held special meaning either. He didn’t want it to. But hearing your name stirred something in him. It caused a battle between past and present. And the present was winning until he walked along the streets of Penacony. 

An intense shiver shot through his veins and the hairs on the back of his arm stood up. You were here.

He knew it. He felt it. Dan Heng didn’t know where exactly, but your presence was so powerful, it was something he couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t strong enough to. 

You were his first and only romantic love— A love he thought would be eternal until he got reincarnated. The draw to you was so intense he found himself wandering the wide pathways filled with Gothic buildings until he felt the call was satiated. 

It wasn’t completely gone, but he felt more relaxed. More at peace. 

Dan Heng notice his body stopped in front of a library with a square roof and he immediately entered the building. The interior was filled with rows of bookshelves and large tables, busy with scholars and those here for leisurely reasons alike.

Despite all that, Dan Heng knew where you were right as he laid eyes on you. 

You were half-hidden by piles of books as you took notes on a blank sheet of paper. You sat straight on the chair and briefly put your pen down when you noticed his staring. Your gaze met his as your eyes darted around the room. 

When they landed on Dan Heng, you tilted your head to the side as he watched you, but you showed no signs of recognition. 

His stomach churned. Of course you wouldn’t recognize him. You had reincarnated soon after Dan Feng did. Your past life was gone, your memories were gone, and he didn’t even know if your name was still the one that was so familiar on his lips. 

With an inquisitive look on your face, you beckoned him over. He was surprised that you acknowledged him so overtly, but if you were anything like your past self, he shouldn’t be too shocked. 

Dan Heng wondered if he should turn around and leave. Did he want to pretend he didn’t see you? Pretend that your fates weren’t inextricably linked? 

His heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as he turned away, ready to go on as if this never occurred so he could continue his life as Dan Heng with no ties to the previous Imbibitor Lunae. He began walking out of the library, shoving his feelings down deep to hide them away for good. 

The cold outside air hit his face as he opened the door. It felt damp out—as if it were raining. 

Dan Heng touched the wet drops on his face before he realized it wasn’t rain. It was his tears. 

It pained him more than he cared to admit. His past love was here and he was going to throw it away before he even had another chance. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms so deep it hurt the flesh. But it had nothing on the pain his heart was feeling. 

He couldn’t do it, he realized. He couldn’t severe the bond from his past completely— Dan Heng couldn’t severe his bond with you. He’d lose a part of himself he wasn’t even aware he still had. 

The muscles in his body screamed as he entered the library once more, this time walking straight to you instead of basking in hesitation. You looked confused as you stared up at him, probably wondering why he ignored you, left, and came back all in the span of one minute.

“Hi there! Can I help you?” 

Dan Heng instantly froze at your words. He yearned for the familiarity; a sense of comfort washed over him at your simple acknowledgement. 

But it didn’t look like you knew who he was. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition on your face even as he stood closer. 

It’s me. Do you remember? he wanted to ask. The desire to reach out and grab your hand, touch your face, was strong enough to make his heart pound. But he refrained. If you didn’t know who he was, it might frighten you if he did that. And discomfort was the last thing Dan Heng wanted to make you feel.  

You laughed nervously, letting out a single cough to fill the silence. 

Dan Heng, realizing he hadn’t said a word, quickly scanned the books you had stacked up. They were books on medicine and the evolution of healthcare. He tried to find something relevant to say.

“I almost gave someone CPR once.”

You blinked slowly, a small and uncertain smile on your face. “That’s great! I think…” For a moment, you considered what he said. “I supposed it’s not great if someone was in a situation where they needed CPR. But it is great you were willing to help.”

Dan Heng nodded, glad his plan went well. 

“Why did they need CPR? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“We found them unconscious. They had a weak heartbeat and pulse so I wanted to make sure they stayed alive.” 

You took in this information, looking slightly impressed. “Typically, we start CPR when there’s no pulse, but if the individual begins gasping for breathe, it’s usually a good sign to start CPR.” 

“I see.”

The two of you fell into a long silence before you gently cleared your throat. 

“Is that all you had to say?” you asked. Dan Heng suspected you didn’t exactly buy that he wanted to talk to you solely about CPR. “Earlier, when you were looking at me, you had a strange look on your face. It looked like you recognized me.” 

Dan Heng stilled. 

You clasped your hands together on top of the table, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Do I know you?”

His breathing quickened at the prospect of you remembering your past with him. 

“Maybe from a birthday party as a kid? Or did we go to the same school?” 

Dan Heng’s face dropped. “Oh. No.” 

You hummed in thought.

“You…might know me, though.” 

Curiously, you raised your brows at his vague response. He wondered if he should stop himself, but he wanted to tell you about your past life. Maybe then you would remember him. 

But would that be a good idea? Would it work in the first place? 

Dan Heng didn’t know. 

He felt impulsive but he needed to talk to you more. “I can explain more, but can we go outside first?” 

You craned your neck to the side, considering your options. He knew what he asked of you was something ridiculous in the eyes of a stranger. To stop what you were doing, take time out of your day, and follow this man you had only just spoken to with no explanation. 

It was wishful thinking to expect a yes. 

Yet somehow, you always managed to surprise him. “Of course. Let me just return these books.” 

Dan Heng tried to hide how pleased he was as he patiently waited for you to turn the books back into the librarian. He offered to help you carry them, but you managed to gather the heavy stack into your arms in its entirety. 

“Now I’m ready,” you said with a smile, eyes studying him in wonder. You looked confused, but you didn’t seem concerned. Perhaps something inside of you also sensed familiarity. “Do you want to see the stars with me?” 

He nodded and you led him to a clear, grassy spot away from the town. The grass was tall and green, pastel wildflowers growing amongst the landscape. You smoothed down your clothes and sat on the soft ground. Dan Heng sat next to you, careful to respect your personal space and keep a slight distance. 

He took in the scenery of the night before he saw you gazing at the stars. He quickly followed suit, tilting his head back.

Moments of tranquil silence passed by before he asked, “Do you know what I am?”

You didn’t miss a beat, almost as if you were expecting that question to come. “You appear human, but your presence doesn’t feel as so.”

“Much like you, correct?” he countered. “A Vidyadhara.”

You touched your head instinctively, the place where your horns should be. With wide eyes, you hastily put your arms back against your sides. 

Dan Heng raised his brow. 

“I thought my appearance had changed suddenly,” you said with a nervous laugh. 

He shook his head. “I’m sorry to cause such alarm. You don’t need to worry; you still appear human as well.” 

“It’s not as if I’m trying to pretend I’m not a Vidyadhara,” you explained, “it’s just easier to live here and be unnoticed with this appearance.” You looked away from the starry sky and turned to face Dan Heng. “And you— Why do you choose to appear human?” 

“I refuse to pay for the sins of my past reincarnation. It’s not me,” he said, voice tense. “That’s not who I am.” 

“You remember your past reincarnation?” you asked, your body perking up. Embarrassed by your eagerness, you stilled. “Sorry. That’s insensitive. There must be a reason you don’t want to remember. Sometimes, I just can’t help but wish I did.” 

The corners of Dan Heng’s mouth tilted upward. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t care for my past…except for one particular detail.” 

You shifted your position to sit with your legs folded over the other. You didn’t say anything, instead letting him speak as he felt comfortable.

“Maybe one particular person is more accurate.” 

Your eyes closed as you breathed deeply, the wind blowing around the two of you as if creating a bubble from the rest of the world. In deep concentration, you changed into your normal Vidyadhara form. Your ears were pointed, regal horns emerged from the top of your head, and you looked taller as your tail appeared underneath you. 

Expectantly, you looked at him. 

Dan Heng hesitated, but soon followed suit. He felt his body change to the one of his past as he revealed his true form to you. 

“Am I the person in your past?” you asked slowly, examining everything from his turquoise horns and dark hair, to his long tail landing in a semi-circle around you. 

He smiled to himself. Attentive as always, he thought. Lifetimes had passed, the galaxies never stopped moving, yet you were just as he remembered. Your experiences may have been different, as did the environment you grew up in, but at your core, you were still thoughtful, caring, and intelligent. No matter the reincarnation, you were still you— His beloved. 

A conflicted look formed on his face as that thought. Dan Heng was getting ahead of himself. He wasn’t Dan Feng. You couldn’t be his. 

You didn’t let his lack of response deter you, instead staring up at him with a hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry if that’s too personal of me to ask. It’s only… Something about you just feels safe and warm.”

His tail swayed back and forth. You felt it too?

“But you’re a stranger in this life, as far as I know,” you said with small laugh. “So why do you seem so familiar? Perhaps it means in my previous, you weren’t so strange.”

Dan Heng noticed his tail getting closer to your body before he managed to sway it the other way. You bumped yours against his mischievously. He jolted in surprise, both at the sudden touch of his tail—which he hadn’t felt in years and years—but also the small spark running through him at the point of contact. 

You bristled as well. “What was that?”

“I am not sure either.”

For a moment, you were lost in your thoughts. He wondered what you were thinking as your eyes swirled, looking more captivating than any galaxy he has ever seen. Your elegant horns looked as if they were glowing against the night sky and he wanted to reach out and feel them like he used to. One of your sensitive spots, he remembered. 

“I felt something when our tails brushed,” you said slowly, thinking your words through. “It wasn’t much, but it felt like a glimpse of my previous life. Do you think I can touch you more?”

Dan Heng absolutely did not mind if you touched him. Anywhere—for that matter. But he figured what was visible would be safest for the time being. He bowed his head, offering his horns to start with. “As you wish.”

You smiled brightly and his heart fluttered. He felt deep down he would do anything for you. Even confront his past life. And he vowed that what he didn’t do in his past life—spend enough time with you before it was too late—he would do in this. If only you allowed him. 

Reaching out, your gaze was fixed on his tall horns. You started with a careful touch to the tip and ran your fingers down to where his horns branched out. Heat and cold were both searing through his body at the touch and he was certain from your expression you felt the same. Your hands trailed down his face, feeling the point of his ears and resting on his cheek. 

Whether it was from the pain of the intensity coursing through you or whether it was because you were remembering your past life, Dan Heng saw tears rolling down your cheeks. 

He brought his hand up to you to wipe them away, but stopped right before he could touch your skin. “May I?” 

You nodded, a light sniffle coming from you and Dan Heng yearned to be of comfort. 

He started with a light brush of his thumb to gather the wetness on your face, gently wiping it off. Then, same as you did to him, he felt the elongation of your ears and ran hs fingers from the base of your horns to the very top. They were just as smooth as he remembered and he felt you tremble at the touch. He smiled. They were still also as sensitive as ever. 

“Are any memories resurfacing for you?” he said quietly. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut yet tears still leaked from them. It took a while for your to respond, overwhelmed by all the emotions, but eventually you managed to ask, “Is it… Dan Feng?”

“Dan Heng now,” he gently corrected. “I don‘t go by that name anymore.”

At that confirmation, you cried even more, jumping into his arms and burying your face in his chest. 

“It‘s been so long,” you said in exasperation, your words mixed with sniffles. “The Sedation— We didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You paused, removing yourself from his chest and looking up at him. “Rather, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Dan Feng. But with you here, maybe now I can.”

He nodded in understanding. His ending was so abrupt. Due to his own hubris and for the life of his closest friend, he ended up sacrificing himself. And in the long run, he learned he even sacrificed you. Dan Heng would never treat your relationship with him so casually again. He should’ve showed you it was the top priority in his life. 

Dan Heng watched in silence as you closed your eyes and whispered under your breath. He didn’t fully understand what you were saying, but he allowed you to have your private moment and say your goodbyes. He said goodbye to the past you as well—a right that was also stripped away from him as he was forced into reincarnation without second thought. Anger rose in his cheeks at those who took that away from him. From you. But it died down. Ultimately, what Dan Feng did wasn’t a part of him now. Maybe the person he is today wouldn’t have agreed with those past actions in the first place. 

Moments turned into minutes and minutes turned to hours before you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. Your gaze was clearer, as if it was truly him—Dan Heng—you were seeing. 

You smiled wistfully, hand gently stroking the spine of his tail. “I may have said goodbye to Dan Feng, but, at your core, the Dan Heng in front of me still feels like the man I love.”

He hummed in thought. He understood exactly what you were feeling. “Your core is the same too,” he said, his palm resting on your chest where your heart was beating. “You’re someone I will always love. And I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

Your face broke into an expression of sadness and Dan Heng felt his heart tightened. 

“I’m sorry I, as Dan Feng, left you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you until the end.”

You shook your head, trying to force a happy look on your face. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t leave me. You were taken and punished and I couldn’t say goodbye. But I forgive you.”

“Why? I valued my power and my friend’s life and, ultimately, was selfish and didn’t consider the impact on yours. There are so many reasons I don’t want to hold onto my past. But if being here with you means facing it, I will.”

You sighed, a small, sad chuckle escaping your lips. “You see someone selfish and arrogant, but I see a kind and selfless soul who wanted his friend to be there with him forever.”

Dan Heng thought back in shame of the Blade he met on Luofu. 

“Our pasts are linked, but so are our presents,” you said, lifting his chin up. “You’re not Dan Feng anymore, are you?”

He nodded firmly. 

You smiled in acceptance. “You’re not exactly my first love, Dan Feng, but I have a feeling I’ll like this Dan Heng person even more, anyway.”

His body immediately warmed and he wanted to melt into your touch. You were always so kind, so thoughtful. Dan Feng may have messed up and got the two of you separated, but he would never. 

“In our last life and this life, and if we have even more to come, we will always find each other,” he vowed. 

You touched your forehead to his before leaning in for a kiss. He met your lips as if he were securing a promise. A promise not to leave you again, a promise he was really here, and a promise he still loved you. There was so much he had to learn about your new life—and you, his. But Dan Heng was certain it’d only make him love you more. 

He had gone through the betrayal of a friend, the betrayal of a nation, and death and exile from the very place he once called home, but no pain compared to that of losing you. And now that he found you again, he didn’t want to make the same mistakes as his past reincarnation. 

You placed your hand on his cheek and deepened the kiss, breaking him out of his thoughts. Your hand was warm against the cool air of the night. Dan Heng ran his hand down to your waist and wrapped around to rest on the small of your back. He pushed you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his. The heat emanated through the fabric of your clothes and the faint smell of wildflowers and vanilla filled his senses. It was a familiar scent he had always loved. 

He smiled into the kiss and you moved closer, draping a leg around his hip. Dan Heng didn’t ever want to let you go, but he knew he had nothing to fear. Now he knew the strength of your bond—how the draw to each other could withstand lifetimes. 

Not even time itself could separate you from him. 

[signanothername]

Hey!! I first want to say I love your interpretation of Nightmare, and was wondering what your thoughts about his shape shifting ability is.

I've seen stuff where he turns into papyrus and torments his gang with it, so I was wondering if he has done something simlair with it in your version.

Thank youuuuu!!!!

AND IM SO DAMN HAPPY YOU ASKED ANON >:)

Nightmare’s shapshifting is honestly one of my fave things about him! Cause it’s a horrifying ability, especially when someone like Nightmare uses it

And my idea with his shapshfting can be summarized in here

My Nightmare can and will make exact replicas of people, but those replicas are going to have some very subtle hints that it is actually Nightmare shapshifted into another person, but if someone is not observant or isn’t really aware of Nightmare’s ability to shape shift? Then it is a very big problem

Those signs that tell you are both look and behavior wise

Nightmare doesn’t use it often surprisingly, but when he does one of the biggest tells look wise is the eyes! There will always be a faint cyan outer rings in the eye lights, and his right eye light will always be a tiny bit dimmer than the left

Shapeshifting takes energy and so Nightmare has to be careful not to get too excited or careless, a tiny mistake means the negativity overflows and his right eye starts leaking, at that point there is no true reason to keep up the act

However, there are still people that Nightmare can’t imitate fully, and so he doesn’t truly bother doing so, like Killer, Nightmare is able to look exactly like him, and unlike many, Killer has no eye lights and his eyes almost always leak anyway so even if Nightmare’s right eye starts leaking no one will be suspicious… except for one tiny yet crucial detail, and that is Killer’s soul, try as he might he can never imitate the nature of his soul, it’s too much trouble for Nightmare to bother

But as I mentioned before, if he imitates someone, look wise it’s extremely subtle and so it’s difficult to actually notice unless whoever is with him is observant

So the next big sign is behavior

Nightmare holds no illusion to shapshift into someone who he doesn’t know well enough to be able to replicate their behavior, with Nightmare facing zero difficulty imitating Dream, but find extreme difficulty imitating Ink for example, as he’s fully knowledgeable of how to act like his twin, but not knowledgeable enough of Ink to be able to Imitate him without problems

And despite Nightmare’s Knowledge, habits are hard to break as he needs to keep a conscious mind not to do something he would do rather than who he’s imitating, for example, Nightmare’s formal hands behind back when he’s imitating Dream, Dream never puts his hands behind his back the way Nightmare does, but sometimes Nightmare slips up and does it out of habit

So shapeshifting is a great tool for Nightmare but can be a hassle

Still, Nightmare loves to use it to infiltrate the confines of his enemies’ homes, or simply to be an asshole

Cause Nightmare sometimes loves to use his shapshifting ability in twisted ways to get as much negativity outta his victims as possible, so Nightmare would shapeshift to his passive child self in front of Dream for example, to destroy whatever resolve Dream has left, or yes even shapeshift to Papyrus but making himself look in bad shape to torment MTT and so on

Nightmare uses his shapshifting abilities in very twisted ways that can be terrifying and nothing/nobody can stop him, all they can do is sit there and be tormented or flee, some (MTT) not even having the privilege to flee

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

This is a lovely commission from a moon of mine. They wish to be anonymous, but I do have a brief description of the headcanons. I would like their reactions to finding out their s/o is self-harming, how they would try to help them day to day, and what new coping strategies they would suggest/get them to try. I'd like this with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox. Romantic Lucifer, Alastor & Vox caring for Reader

TW: SELF-HARM MENTIONED, COPING SKILLS (These may not work for everyone), ANGST/FLUFF

Lucifer:

When Lucifer found you that day, he was devastated. You were so frail and small in his arms, and it hurt his soul.

He cleaned you up carefully and bandaged all your wounds. Holding you close to his chest, telling you how much you mean to him.

It was common knowledge to everyone how much he cared for you and how he compared you to the angels in heaven themselves.

He didn't leave your side for weeks, helping you through every emotion and thought that crossed your mind.

He was honestly a little overbearing, making you feel worse that he was dedicating his whole life to you.

When you brought this up with him, he calmed down on the clinginess but still routinely checked up on you.

He enlisted Charlie and Vaggie, two of the people he trusted most in the world next to you, to find better ways to help you avoid reverting to harm.

He took the learned material seriously and began helping you set up healthy routines again slowly.

He helped you with big tasks that felt way too much at the time while still giving you the independence you needed.

He made sure you two went on 'hot girl walks' once a day to help you get more vitamin D.

He conjured a whole gym area for you in the hotel after learning the endorphins in exercise would help.

If you ever had a dark day or a bad event, he would re-cling himself to you.

Even if you protested, he was right there, ready to go and assist you.

He told you daily how much he loved and cared for you and helped remind you how needed you are in this realm.

Alastor:

Alastor rarely felt broken in his human or demon life. Not often did anything shake him to his core.

The day he found you, though, near death and fading, he was a broken man indeed.

You were not allowed to leave his arms no matter how hard Charlie or other inhabitants asked him to let you be looked at by another.

He had years of wound care experience, so he took to cleaning and tending to you.

Was it mentioned that he was in complete demon form the whole time? Well, he was, and he was so angry at the world but so gentle with you.

He wasn't as clingy as Lucifer; instead, he was a silent observer, only coming when asked.

He refused to let you out of his sight, though, making sure that if you weren't physically with him, his shadow was nearby.

He basically destroyed your room by looking for anymore harmful objects. He made up for it, though, by getting you brand-new everything.

"A brand new you is refreshing, my love letting go of the bad.'

He helped you dye and cut your hair when you decided to go with the whole new me look.

He took your eating habits to heart and ensured you had three meals a day, all prepared by him.

Good nutrients would significantly improve your mental health and give you more energy and stamina.

Every morning, when he woke by your side, he would remind you, "You are never fully dressed without a smile, my love."

Vox:

Vox is a big baby on almost anything, especially when things don't go his way or play out how he expects them to.

He never expected to be serious and somber about anything detrimental until he found you that day.

He was terrified of losing you, and his immediate reaction was to hold you close and get you to a hospital.

Man has every tech device in Pentagram City, but he knew what you needed was far beyond his scammy gizmos and gadgets.

Once in the hospital, he was pacing the room, wearing a grove into the floor.

Once you were cleared and ready to go home, he asked you simple fundamental questions, ranging from a simple "why" to a more in-depth "How can I help you?"

He knew that when you answered in shrugs and 'I don't know,' he would have to do the grunt work to help his love.

He talked to doctor after doctor and scoured the web to find all the best remedies to help you.

He took up yoga with you, and right after yoga ended, he would sit with you in a warm bath and talk about what you thought.

When you fully started opening up to him about the dark thoughts clouding your brain, he was already prepared to help.

He helped you cleanse your social media and even recommended good, worthy shows to distract you from your thoughts.

Vox loved you more than life itself and couldn't imagine a world without you in it.

He made sure every day you knew that you would look in the mirror at him lovingly holding you and remind yourself of that, too.

[mrsnegan]

Put Your Hands On Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x female!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for Joel's hands.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; smut; hand kink; competency kink; piv; light choking, mentions of canon-typical violence, blowjob, spanking and fingering; squirting; a bit of fluff

A/N: I do have a thing for Joel's hands too. 🫠 I would gladly collect his handprints on me as long as there's some cuddling involved afterwards. 😅 This is just a little drabble, have fun reading!

His hands, those capable, strong hands, currently gripping your hips, bruising your flesh in the best way possible while he fucks into you roughly, those hands are probably your favorite part of him. Mostly they are gentle with you, holding you steadily when you need him, they caress your skin and help you build a decent life in a world full of misery.

They can be rough and punishing too when you ask for it, pleading for the sweet pain with your eyes swimming in tears, mouth full of cock while he pulls at your hair or lands a smack against your flesh when you are bend over for him.

And they can be deadly, a weapon for those who do you wrong, do him wrong. You can still hear the last shot of his gun he so steadily held in his hands, trigger pulled by his fingers, the last punch that broke a man's nose - and probably some other bones too. The gurgling sound of the man whose throat he slit without even blinking.

His left hand wanders to your throat now, pulling you back towards his chest, cock still pushing into you at a punishing pace. The knowledge of what his hands are capable of, what harm and also safety they provide, what they build and also destroy, makes you leak around him, your arousal running down your thighs, a needy moan leaving your lips.

"That's what y'needed, sweet girl?" He rasps, pulling you into him, holding you tight.

"Yes, fuck," you mumble, drunk on his cock, his words, his grip.

There's a growl coming from him behind you at your breathy words, his hand on your hip finding a home between your shaking legs.

That's another thing about his hands - they never cease to make you come. It doesn't matter if he's knuckle-deep inside of you or circling your clit like he does now, with the right amound of pressure to make you see stars.

"Come for me, baby, soak me real good, I know y'want to."

He speeds up his ministrations, his fingers working faster and harder until you shatter beneath them.

You moan his name while you shake in his arms, soaking the bed while he fucks you through it. He always does, hips momentarily stuttering while he feels your pussy contract around him.

Only when he feels you relax he chases his own release, fucking into you without a real rhythym, just for the purpose to get himself off. He pulls out of you last minute, painting your lower back in his pearly white spent.

Those minutes - and sometimes hours - after are like a dream. He cleans you up and pulls you into his arms again, hands securely holding you in place, never letting you go.

"Joel?" you whisper into the darkness.

"Hm?" he questions behind you, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder blade.

"Thank you for being my home."

[uno-san]

Oohhhh I can totally see Bill threatening to hurt or even off you after Ford broke things off with him.

Perhaps he wanted to reach out to you for help because he had a small sliver of hope that you, with your heart which was a size too big for your own good, might just come to his aid if he asked, even if you were upset with him. But then he was afraid of letting Bill get anywhere near you, so he endured all of the torture and abuse, just so long as he didn’t touch you.

Do what you will with this idea.

OOOHHH GOOOD this ask sent me in a spiral as I immediately had ideas for italsdfjlsaflfj Thank you so much for sending in an ask, especially since I love seeing your posts!

Sorry this took so long but please, enjoy the angst~

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

Each tick brought a new needling pain to his already frantic mind. How could such a small, incessant sound be so torturous? For every count that was marked down on the small watch it brought a harsh reminder to the pacing scientist; his eyes were bloodshot, dry, and torn. No matter what he’d do one would even bleed onto whatever project he’s started on to try and save his life. Everyone’s life.

Stanford Pines has been awake for 3 days.

Tick

  Tick

Tick

“Goddammit!”

Research notes and project blueprints were scattered everywhere with one mighty drag of his arm across the once-cluttered desk. Around him loose papers hovered uselessly in the air, as if they were trying to offer him a solution in the now discarded pile. He paid them no mind. They were just another idea down the gutter.

This time, a truly foolish one. He had called it the Bill-Proof Suit (Name Pending) and if he had a proper amount of sleep he would have seen sooner what a joke it truly was. Stanford’s concept was solid, naturally, the issue was the actual construction. That’s where the joke was.

He needed Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was long gone now. If Stanford hadn’t already chased him away the day of the portal incident there was no doubt Bill would have done the job himself. The man’s mechanical knowledge far exceeded Ford’s own. That’s what gained him a spot on this project in the first place. And now, it was laughable to think Ford had a hand in sabotaging such a pivotal partnership. A friendship. God, how that word felt so bitter now.

Bill had been his friend. His muse as well, but more importantly his friend. Fiddleford had been too. Stanford pushed him away, revealing that the one he had left was a guillotine waiting to drop. A conman from the very moment Ford had made the mistake of summoning him, lying the very second he appeared. The best lie Bill ever told was that Stanford was a genius.

In truth, Ford was an idealistic fool too over his head. Hunted in his own home until the day his mind would break and give in to what Bill wanted. But it would be a cold day in hell before Stanford ever gave in without a fight. For if he couldn’t keep the bastard out of his body, there was still one way to thwart him yet.

Scatter his research. Not destroy it, but spread it far so that no other fool under Bill’s thumb could recreate Ford’s work. It shouldn't be difficult. Ford had already sought to hide his other two journals due to previous threats. All that remained of his recorded mistakes were his first journal. This one needed special handling. The other two, while well hidden, still remained in Gravity Falls. Journal 1 would need to see a swift exit out to the world unknown.

But how?

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

With a growl of frustration Ford dropped himself into an aging chair that had been pushed out of the way to make room for his pacings. One arm rested across his knee while the other stayed propped up on his elbow to hold his head up; a dangerous position, considering his exhaustion. Though bleary his eyes focused on a nearby chalkboard with hastily scrawled names on its black surface. He’s been stuck on this awhile.

Fiddleford was out. No doubt about that with how they had departed. Unfortunately that meant that Stanford would have to find help outside of the initial project, which will prove to be risky at best and time-consuming at worst to get them caught up on the stakes of the mission. That left little to consider.

Already that knocked his parents out of the running. They were getting too old to do what was needed to keep his research safe. Not to mention what they’d think of Stanford started going off about demons and otherworldly powers.

You lost them millions, Stanford. Never even impressed your father and now you want them to help you? When was the last time you called?

Stanford’s body froze. Only the slow movement of his eyes showed signs of life as they drifted to each dark corner of the room. Had he said that? He gathered the courage to check over his shoulder. There was no one. His fingers tapped against his knee as the truth of the whispered words began to sink in. Would they even answer his call?

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Focus!

Right…right. Who else?

Nobody in town would be jumping at the chance to help him. Stanford never made the effort. Couldn’t make it, to be more accurate. Never was good at talking to people. Bill had helped with that isolation though Ford couldn’t place as much blame on him as he wanted to.

If he had the money, this would be a far easier task. Thanks, however, to his constantly running lab and testing of the portal during its construction even his generous grant money was dwindling down to pennies. Not even that tie he sold to the government went far. That was spent to get them to turn the other way for Ford’s more questionable purchases (Or thefts).

They wouldn’t have talked to you anyway. Not without a carnival banner to let them know the freakshow was in town.

Stanford’s hand swept up in his hair; his thumb resting outside the greasy mess to instead prop his eyelid open. The air stung. It was manageable compared to the heat of annoyance beginning to rise in his chest. Was this the best he could manage? Stanford Pines, life forever in ruins now just because he didn’t think to make silly small talk over a burnt cup of coffee?! Surely, there had to be somebody else to turn to-

You already know who you want to go crawling back to. To be safe in their arms again. Despite already chasing them off you know you want to drag them back into all of this. You want-

Stanford shot up from his chair. The rapid movement caused it to swivel while Ford’s hand grabbed hold of a long forgotten experiment; he shouted a guttural “NO!” before hurling the hunk of junk at the source of the voice. It shattered against the wall.

Both hands were knotted up into fists while Ford’s shoulders shook with a fury he couldn’t control. His lips were drawn back in a snarl as he continued to face off against nothing. This being the most he’s been awake in days being the only blessing of an already cursed conversation.

“No, I’m not doing this to them again, I’m not!” Stanford’s eyes followed a foe that wasn’t there, now facing a different side of the room, “They’re gone now and there’s nothing I can or will do to ever risk them coming back here. I can handle all this myself!”

Not that you’d get any help after what you did.

Stanford staggered back. Like the flame of his anger had been blown out and he’d been left with the ashes of guilt. He looked so unsure. Different compared to his conviction on stopping Bill once and for all.

“That was Bill, I didn’t want-”

Bill, who can read your mind? Bill, who has known you more intimately than you ever have your ‘partner’ know? Well, now's your chance. You look like shit. Everything around you is falling apart. One look at you and they’d come racing to your side. You want-

“ENOUGH!”

Stanford might have given in if he had heard your name. He now grabbed onto the abandoned chair and threw it against the next wall with all his might, praying that the sound of destruction would tune out that predatory voice poisoning his mind. It was just as awful as that-

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

That-

Tick

  Tick

Tick

THAT GODDAMN TICKING NOISE!

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

The man fell onto his knees in a heap. In spite of the danger of it all his eyes were skewed shut while the flat of his palms covered his ears like a spoiled child. Now on top of all he was trying to shut out he could hear the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat in face of the near mental break. But it was all in vain.

Stanford could hear the ticking of the stopwatch counting down another waking hour. The whispers, Bill, and…and the memories of 3 days ago replaying in his mind, again and again.

___

The day had already begun strangely. Not in the sense that when Stanford arose he didn’t know where he’d wake up, or that he was covered in mysterious injuries that he’s sure he didn’t want to know the origin of. None of that. That was, quite horridly, becoming Ford’s new reality until he gave in to Bill Cipher’s demands. Which would be never.

No, what made this day bizarre was that Stanford had woken up in bed. No ditch or jail cell. His actual bed inside his own home. When he had realized this Stanford had been quick to search the room for any signs of a trap. He didn’t get the chance to look long before he noticed that his hand had been clutched around something. As per usual his hands had been bloodied across the knuckles (which would sting to patch up later), but wrapped around and bundled into his palm was…hair?

The dread in his gut only deepened when he had given the hair a conspiratory sniff and recognized a scent that used to provide him comfort. It was the smell of your shampoo. It was after the horror began to dawn on him that Stanford noticed the corner of a tape poking out from beneath his pillows.

‘Play Me: Part 2’

The scene opened up to a hotel room, identified only by the luggage rack in the corner currently occupied by its namesake. Within the focal point of the shot was an empty bed and a window barely fitting into frame. Both the stillness and odd positioning of the shot suggested that the camera wasn’t being held at all; it was hidden on the tv stand.

Out of frame a door must have shut. Following after were the familiar sounds of ruffling fabric before the main light had been turned off, leaving only the bedside lamp to provide proper lighting. Then you walked onto the screen.

Wearing a pair of familiar pajamas, slippers, and a book in hand, you were yawning as you began to climb and settle into bed. You must have been staying in that room for a long while to be as comfortable as you look. Despite just opening your book you’re interrupted with a yawn, making you huff in frustration and stubbornly set your nightly entertainment down. The pout that Stanford always found cute was displayed prominently on your face. It was almost domestic.

It wasn’t long after until you reached over to turn off the lamp nearby. Immediately the room was shrouded with darkness; save for a sliver of light escaping past the curtains to illuminate your midsection. Not much, but enough to see you.

For several minutes, that’s all there was. In real time your process of sleep was captured. How you’d roll back and forth a few times before adjusting into a comfortable position, your pillow punched just right to cradle your head the way you liked it. With a final wiggle of comfort you fell asleep. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deep motions.

Then a pair of yellow eyes blinked open.

Stanford’s breath had caught in his chest. Nearly choking on it as he rose from his spot on the couch to instead crouch in front of the TV as if he could hop into the scene himself.

Beneath the bed a six-fingered hand crept out to grasp at the shag carpet and use the leverage to pull the rest of the body out with it. Emerging from the abyss was a stranger’s smile on a familiar face. His glasses were askew and the grin contorted his face unnaturally, but there was no doubt who it was.

Bill. Stanford. It hardly mattered when you wouldn’t even know the difference.

The figure moved with precision. His limbs stretched out far and bent at odd angles to distribute weight on the creaky floor; he looked like a spider poised to strike. Bill crept forward at a snail's pace. His stare never wavered from the camera meanwhile, remaining level headed until almost the entirety of Stanford’s- Bill’s yellow eye took the stage. A blink after and it was gone. In frame it captured a closeup of his hand as he grabbed the camera from its hidden position.

The already unnerving video had Stanford on edge and in his paranoia he paused the video. Freezing it right at the moment the knuckles of his hand flashed across the screen where he then held up his current injured one. The hand in the video had matching injuries, however in the past it still sparkled with fresh blood when the light hit it just right.

Stanford let out a sigh of relief. So Bill had tried the door before coming here. The wounds were from the door. The door. A fact that he’d have to remind himself of while he unpaused.

Bill was no longer visible as he became the cameraman. It was with soft footsteps that seemed ill-fitting of the one making them that the TV screen was now filled with your unconscious form. He had stopped just at the edge of the bed, yet the angle the camera shot from suggested that Bill began leaning over you. Miraculously, the frame remained steady in spite of the position.

He then spoke in such a hushed tone that his voice was almost unrecognizable if it hadn’t been the evident grin behind his words, “What. Happens. When they. Wake. Up?”

It felt as if all the blood in Stanford’s body froze at once. Each syllable that passed Bill’s lips sent a new horrific vision of what the fiend could do to your unsuspecting form. Emphasizing your vulnerability. Somehow your breathing already appeared weak as if you’ve been struck already. The thought had Ford’s mouth dry.

A pit was beginning to settle in his stomach. To calm himself down his eyes cast downwards to his bruised knuckles, trying to commit to memory that the wounds had been there since the start of the tape. Stanford didn’t gain comfort, however, as his attention returned to the screen. He couldn’t bear missing even one detail. No matter how much he wanted to.

For a long while, the ‘movie’ remained static. As chaotic as Bill was he could be patient when he wanted to be. Listening closely revealed Bill gasping for breath every so often, having forgotten that air was ‘integral’ to humans living when he had been so focused on you. Or maybe he was holding his breath on purpose. Pain was hilarious, he’d always say.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The tension was suddenly cut through by a burst of noise outside. A familiar and irritating sound of a car alarm began to blast away the quiet night, its rhythm now matching that of a racing heartbeat as it mercilessly shouted. Through the curtains a harsher light broke in. Blinking on and off to cast a harsh silhouette of Bill standing over you against the wall.

“No, no, no, nononono, gods, no!” Stanford cried out while his hands gripped at the TV’s sides to nearly crack the material. “Don’t, please-”

The past remained unchanged in spite of his begging.

You began to stir. With brows furrowed together your eyes squinted tightly together as if to block out the intrusive light, the once calm expression of peace you had now replaced with irritation at the interruption. Under your breath you mumbled something indiscernible.

From above a six-fingered hand began to torturously slide into frame while its fingers were spread and bent as if they were claws. Down and down it went. It was poised to make contact with your neck until the hand paused to hover over your body, the fingers giving a cheeky wiggle towards the camera. The open wounds on the knuckles still bled, allowing trickles of blood to pool at his fingertips until they fell and spilled across your collarbone.

Now your own hand reached up to idly scratch where the blood landed only to inadvertently smear the warm droplets on your skin. Off camera still, the sound of Bill sucking in air through his teeth filled the anticipated silence as he waited eagerly. Even the wet sound of skin stretching was a harsh reminder of how elated he must have looked.

Stanford’s hand reached toward his face where trembling fingers traced the torn corners of his mouth.

With a groan you made a sudden turn in bed that Bill hadn’t expected. He was forced to dodge his hand out of the way. You turned on your side away from the window with the corner of the blanket bunched in your first to fully entrap yourself within the comforting warmth. The car alarm outside had turned off just as you let out an exhausted yawn and snuggled into your pillow.

A moment after the camera slowly adjusted to frame your entirety once more while somehow capturing Bill’s unspoken anticipation. Yet you didn’t stir further. Instead the quiet was cut-through by your growing snores brought on by deepened rest. Off-camera Bill slowly released the air of excitement he had sucked in moments to ago in a disappointed huff.

Stanford wept.

___

Tick

  Tick

Tick

The memory brought a new sheen of tears to his eyes that Stanford cursed. Bitterly he threw off his glasses to wipe them away before they dared to fall and reveal his growing weakness. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself.

He had to protect you.

That had been three days ago. Worse yet the tape had actually contained the entirety of your night. From the moment you got into bed right down to your alarm clock going off, Bill stood over you. Stanford knew that for a fact considering he watched the tape all the way through, never daring to speed-forward or skip ahead out of fear of what he’d stumble upon after doing so.

The 6 hours of footage felt like an eternity of limbo compared to the pain of being awake for so long. This was much preferable to ever seeing that again. Even if it killed him Ford made the vow to not rest until he could assure that a ‘Part 3’ could never be made again.

Thus far the only respite he’s allowed himself was a call to your hotel. Thankfully he had recognized the tacky furniture from his own stay many years back when he had to wait for the construction of his home to complete. When you had picked up the phone and said a greeting in your warm voice, it felt as if Stanford had his second wind.

He hadn’t heard you since the day you left. Since he had driven you away in order to fall under more of his ‘muse’s’ lies. But now when Ford heard your voice all he could do was remember all the nights you spent taking care of him after an extensive research expedition. Or all the warm meals you’d prepare for him to fuel up for a dangerous day in the woods. All of that felt like a lifetime ago.

Stanford Pines had thrown you away. Now, his only redemption lied in keeping both you and the world safe, no matter what it took. Your voice was the motivation Ford needed but the reward he hadn’t earned yet. He hung up without ever saying a word to you.

From the floor Stanford used his knee to propel himself back upwards. He remembered to take his discarded glasses with him to wipe off on his button-up shirt and place back on his face. Trying to dust the rest of himself off he glanced around his now ramshackled lab that had once been the prize of all his hard work and efforts, now covered with the scrawlings of a paranoid recluse and damaged experiments from frenzied episodes.

His eyes landed on his remaining journal that had been left abandoned on the ground. Odd. Had he knocked it down at some point during his episode brought on by a lack of sleep? Stanford bent down to pick up the poor book left in disarray. Poking out from the side was a corner of a photo that must have become dislodged from within, serving as a reminder that Ford should take better care of his precious research.

With a huff of annoyance towards himself Stanford flipped open the book only to be met with a photo of his face- Stanley’s face captured from an airing commercial Ford had caught on TV one day. Puzzled by this, Ford pulled the photo from the pages to inspect Stanley’s expression yet the glare of gold from his journal behind kept drawing his gaze as well.

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

For a long time Stanford’s focus flickered between his journal and the photo of his brother. First he stared with irritation. Then as the seed of an idea began to bloom his eyes softened with a regret while seeing Stanley. So many years spent drifted apart, and yet…

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Stanford tucked the photo away with far more care than he realized he had before turning to head back upstairs to his home. There was a determination to the man as his feet picked up speed, now powered by the first actual idea he’s had in days. Whether it would work or not didn’t matter.

He had no one else.

[sugurusombereyes]

four am fluff with satoru blurb

“what are you doing?”

“oh.”

gojo eyes widened as he cleared his throat, “now why are you awake?” his colgone wafted through the air along with the smell of burnt bread that tickled the inside of your nose; his nervous smile trying to cover up the fact that he had completely destroyed the kitchen.

you rub the tired off your eyes and shook it onto the creaky wooden floorboards that you had complained to gojo that you needed to change to carpet.

(he’d then kiss your forehead and tell you how many memories you had with the floorboards and convince you to keep them)

(the only memorable moment when the power shut off and he’d come up with the idea to find each other in the pitch black darkness by the sounds of creaking floorboards. he then fell into you and held your body tight as your stomach knotted from laughter)

“toru’ it’s four am.” you deadpan, walking towards his tall figure as he let out a chuckle. the counter tops were all dusted in flower as well as his bare chest, the egg carton was half empty as well as the milk carton.

cute he thought, staring at your sleepy figure that was now wrapped around his waist.

“i know baby, go back to sleep.” he hummed, his muscles relaxing at your touch.

(he’d always tease you and tell you that you radiate a certain type of light that would always be able to get through his infinity)

moments like these always reminded satoru why he kept on going, the privilege to breathe the same air that you did and exist in a universe where you were alive was all he needed.

separated or together he would forever be grateful that he had the knowledge that you existed.

(he’d count your breathing pattern before he would fall asleep to make sure you were feeling okay)

“can’t fall asleep without you.” you yawn, nuzzling your face into his back as your eyes fluttered to fight the wave of exhaustion.

satoru had sworn that his heart melted in his chest, dripping down his ribcage and painted the bones the crimson colour that would match the blush which would plaster his face once you would mutter a sleepy ‘i love you.’

he would never admit the amount of work that he used to put in for you both to make accidental eye contact before you started dated. the amount of times he had asked shoko her favourite scent because he knew it was yours too.

(he’d then mix the essential oil into his lotion so you’d notice)

the amount of times he had daydreamed about you and him together ever since he accidentally spilled coffee on your grey sweatshirt that you told him you had tons of.

(you didn’t have another since you’d bought it the day before, but his blue eyes made you realise that maybe you should’ve bought it in another shade)

“can you try to cook when we wake up.” you yawn as your eyes fight to stay open, “right now may not be the best time.” satoru chuckles in response, slowly detaching your arms from his waist and turning around to face you.

“you’re going to complain about me not cleaning up the mess when we wake up y’know?” he smiles softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands as you tiredly smile. “let’s cross that bridge when it comes.” you say sleepily, nuzzling your face in his hand as he let out a chuckle.

satoru lifted you up in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he let out a soft sigh of content. “i don’t wanna hear you yelling at me.” he says quietly as he walks to your bedroom.

“m’kay toru.” you yawn and let your head collapse back into his shoulder.

moments like these made satoru want to stay inside forever, tangled up together as the beating pattern of your hearts would sync up.

(he knew that wasn’t possible but he felt like the impossible was possible when looking into the eyes that made his house a home)

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.