#but still keep the most important of twists hidden

[justalazyauthor]

Why is it harder to write a summary for the story, than writing the story itself?

[ka1rin]

“I need you, meine liebe.”

michael kaiser x fem!reader

m-dni! - mutual m*sturbation / phone s*x / uncensored words.

Michael Kaiser, your loving, caring boyfriend who feels like a dream come true. He spoils you with everything you could ever want: Birkin bags in every color, plushies so soft they feel like clouds, bouquets of your favorite flowers delivered just because, and even surprises that leave you speechless.

He knows all your favorite things , the little quirks that make you happy. He remembers how your eyes light up at limited-edition collectibles or how your heart melts at handwritten notes hidden in unexpected places.

But there’s one thing he rarely gives you, no matter how much you crave it. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t.

Kaiser is a busy man — an athlete with a demanding schedule. There are nights when he gets home so late that you’re already fast asleep, and days when he has to travel to faraway places for games. Despite this, he never fails to make you happy, even during the rough patches in your relationship.

Whether it’s a heartfelt call, thoughtful gifts, or handwritten letters, he always finds a way to remind you how much he cares. But there’s one need that can’t be fulfilled through calls, gifts, or letters alone.

While Kaiser was far away — in Japan, specifically, for a few months training for an important tournament he still found time to call you. His voice, warm and familiar, filled the lonely silence of your room as you answered, the time difference making it either early morning or late at night for one of you.

"Hey," he said, his tone soft but tinged with a certain breathiness. You could tell he was exhausted, likely from his intense games.

"Micha, why’d you call?" you asked, curious. You were certain it was late in Japan. "You must be tired from playing. I saw your game against Manshine. You were amazing, as always."

A low, tired chuckle came through the receiver. "Mhm, thank you, liebe," he replied, his voice unsteady, as though he was preoccupied with something.

"It’s late there, Micha. You should sleep," you said gently, concern softening your tone.

"Y-yeah, it is. I—" He paused, and you could hear his uneven breathing, the sound oddly labored. You frowned slightly, your thoughts running wild with worry.

And then, a strained whimper slipped from him, one that made your stomach twist in confusion.

"Micha? Are you okay?"

He groaned softly; the noise unmistakably needy. "I miss y-you so fuuucking badly," he finally confessed, his words shaky and raw.

The line went quiet for a beat, except for his faint whines and sharp intakes of breath. That’s when you realized—this wasn’t just about being tired. He was yearning for you, aching in a way that distance couldn’t ease. You could almost picture him, running a hand through his messy hair, his lips parted as he wrestled with his longing for you.

"Micha, what are you doing?" you asked, your voice now laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Thinking about you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something deeper, a little rougher. "It’s so hard not to, liebe. I need you so much right now."

That’s when it hit you — he needed you so badly, and you needed him just as much.

"P-please, keep talking, meine Liebe. I need to hear your voice sooo fucking badly," he said, his voice dripping with desperation.

A shiver ran down your spine at the raw longing in his tone. You felt the heat pooling between your thighs, and your breath hitched. You needed to be touched — so badly it almost hurt.

Your hand instinctively started to trail downward, crawling its way to your wet core, seeking the relief you craved.

"M-Micha... mhm— I miss you too, my love," you whispered, your voice trembling as your hand worked its way lower. You couldn’t help yourself, touching where you needed it most.

Through the phone, you could hear his soft, breathy moans, and it sent a jolt of heat through you. Fuck, it turned you on so badly.

"F-fuck… I wish it was your hand stroking me right now, r-rather than mine," Kaiser groaned, his voice breaking with desperation. "S-shit—"

Your breath hitched as he turned on his camera, the screen filling with the sight of his toned chest glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Oh fuck, you thought, biting your lip. He looked so unbearably hot.

The sound of his labored breathing spurred you on, and your hand moved faster, drawing louder, needier moans from your lips.

Then, with a shaky hand, Kaiser switched the camera to the back view. Your eyes widened as the screen revealed his large, throbbing cock, his hand moving up and down its length in perfect rhythm. The pretty rose tattoo on his wrist flexed with every stroke, making the sight even more intoxicating.

"M-Micha, I'm so close... Fuck!" you moan, your voice trembling as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak. Your body arches instinctively, each wave of pleasure pulling you closer to the edge. The tension coils tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in short, desperate pants as you feel your release rapidly approaching.

"I-I'm so close too, baby-oh, shit!" he groaned, voice thick with desperation. His hand worked faster, the slick glide of his strokes emphasizing his urgency. Pre-cum glistened at his tip, dripping steadily as his cock twitched, every pulse a telltale sign of how close he was. His breathing grew ragged, each gasp and moan echoing the intensity building between you.

Then, suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashes over both of you, leaving you breathless. "Micha!" you cry out, your voice mixing with his. "Y/N-fuck!" he groans, his head tipping back as his body trembles. Your pussy clenches as your release washes over you, a creamy white liquid spilling out and dripping down.

On the screen, you see his cock twitching, thick spurts of cum spilling from his tip, coating his hand as he continues to stroke himself slowly, riding out his high.

"F-fuck... I really missed you, Micha," you murmur, your voice soft but still shaky.

"Mhm—I miss you even more, liebe," he replies, his tone low and possessive.

"'l’ll make sure to fuck you real badly when I get home. I promise" His words send another wave of heat coursing through your body, making you ache for him even more.

he better keep his promise ;)

(note: I did not proofread this)

[miioouu]

Ghost's tattoos

This was supposed to be a sweet, wholesome little idea, but like…it’s me, what else did we expect? Also, I’m trying to fight my months long writer’s block so I'm sorry if this sucks, let me get some practice in before I tackle the Mean dbf ghost series.

Warning: suggestive, genre of reader not mentioned, lowkey condescending

Wc: 963

Everyone around the base has had a glance of the Lieutenant’s tattooed sleeve. He usually prefers to keep it covered, although most of his tattoos don't have a deep meaning behind them, or at least that’s what he says; it still felt too personal, too vulnerable to show around.

But you, you were the only person who had seen it all. Not just the tattoos, but the scars, the wounds, the scratches that all decorated his arms; and no matter how many hours you spent tracing every line on his body, you could never get enough of it, it's just so fascinating.

So surely it's no surprise to either of you (or anyone, it's not like you kept your relationship hidden), when some sergeant loses you, only to find you in Simon's office, sitting by his side as he signs whatever paperworks that have occupied his whole attention for the past couple of hours, your eyes trained on his hand, watching as the veins twist, disappear and appear again with each movement, tracing up to his wrist, a little up to the sliver of skin showing; a beauty mark here, a small raised white line of a scar there, dark ink…everywhere. The beginning of a skull tattoo peeking out his sleeve, some roman numbers that you never bothered to question its symbolism, knowing he'll say something along the lines of ‘nothing important’ or ‘don't worry about it, sweets’. You two were close, yes, but Simon and his secrets were closer, he loves to keep his privacy, his walls built strong and high, and although you managed to slither through some bricks, it wasn’t enough.

But you’re not one to dwell on this, not when people leave you alone with him, not when he groans as he stretches; his fitted black tee lifting up and exposing a glimpse of his happy trail. Your eyes would’ve strayed further south, remembering what he has hidden under those army pants, if it weren’t for his fingers grabbing your chin, making you hold his gaze for a moment before he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?”

Simon was sweet to you, always, no matter what, and you loved that, you really did, but not when you’re so obviously desperate for him. Not when your thighs are rubbing together, not when your lashes are batting at him, not when you’re pouting, too frustrated to word your needs out. And he knows it. He knows you don’t want him to dote on you right now; it’s all his fault, he assumes, not having given you the attention you deserve lately.

So he did what he always does, what he knows will get the tender smile back on your face; he leaned back against his chair, it squeaked under his weight, he spread his legs, enough for you to sink to your knees between them. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, feeling the slightly chapped skin under his finger, chuckling “Sweets, you need to stop biting those precious lips of yours, hmm?” but he doesn’t mean it, of course he doesn’t. There’s nothing hotter in his mind than your pearly whites digging in your pinkish plumpness, especially when you’re looking up at him with those fake innocent eyes, like you were doing right now.

His thumb pushed past your lips, feeling the edges of your front teeth before rubbing against the tip of your tongue. The action itself was lewd, but something about Simon’s softness made it so much more wholesome; like a kiss to the cheek, like the rubbing of noses against each other, like a caress of a hand against an arm… How does a man so big, so full of violence and tragedies be so…kind?

And you need to appreciate him, right? That’s the right thing to do; wrap your lips around his digit, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his skin, and you suck, softly, sweetly, as if you’re savouring the last bite of your favourite dessert; the only difference is that Simon would never deprive you have him. You pull out slowly, a pop echoing in the room, his finger glistening under the white light of his office, but you’re not done coating him with your spit, far from it. Your tongue darts out, licking a strip all the way to his wrist only to later on, then press kisses to his palm and then back up. Your eyes zero on the black ink; a thick line that slowly thins out as it curves, depicting a skull, you follow it with your hot muscle, retracing every line etched on his flesh, and you feel him stiffen under your touch, his breath hitching and he mumbles out a curse “Bloody hell, sweetheart… you’re being so good.” This man has the audacity to smile, a warm one that has your heart skip a beat, that has the knot in your stomach tighten even more, and it makes you want to slap it off his face; why is he acting like an angel when you feel your blood hotter than the flames of hell?!

You scoff, pulling away, and you know you should ask permission before guiding your hands to his belt, but come on, he can’t expect you to be proper now. Although it's your fault for taking advantage of his kindness, in a swift motion he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together to stop you; he knows you, you’re predictable, he slips his fingers, two this time inside your mouth again “Ah, ah, lovie. I still got so many papers to read…be a good one and suck on my fingers for now, can’t let you distract me too much…”

[eastbubble]

letting your captain hit because you felt so guilty about him being so alone. you knew this wasn’t exactly a good thing to do and that you were definitely on the wrong path.. but when you saw captain mactavish looking for your gaze every single day at training you knew this was already long lost. you promised yourself you’d never catch feelings and that this would only be something you did out of fun and to make him feel a little better about all the shit in his neck, but..

you knew he talked to ghost and roach, and he also had people like worm and the others, guys that he considered friends, comrades, you name it. but you weren’t a friend, that’s for sure — you were someone that just sometimes ran out with the rest of the reserve squad when they needed more armed people for a mission. you weren’t important at all, you could have died at least fourteen times already when you were deployed, it just showed that you weren’t even good at your job either.

one sentence was already able to make you surrender to him and melt; “how was your day, munchkin?” and it felt so bad to give in to him so easily.

but when he came into your room and told you how he saw you try your best today. when you saw his head peeking into your room after a mission, face paint running down on the side of his head as the sweat and rain had made the black lines turn into liquid again, dripping down. you spent so much time admiring him, not just as a person who was above you, your higher-up but also as a man.

getting lost in your thoughts was always routine while he had his head between your legs, your fingers tugging at his mohawk, pinching and twisting strands of his hair while you were slightly trying to squirm away from his tongue. his pair of strong arms kept you tightly pressed to his nose, though, the tip of it bumping against your clit every single time he somehow licked deep inside you like you were nothing but that ice cream he had been craving ever since he got deployed again. that tongue did wonders and you were the one that knew that the most.

he held you in your place while you tried to close your thighs up when you were already so close to your orgasm, your entire body lifting up as you involuntarily jerked yourself forward, butt no longer in contact with the bed. he was quick to press you down, lapping at your folds and eating you out like you deserved it when you knew you didn’t. a pathetic solider you were, not even respecting the basic rules of the military and letting your captain eat your pussy.

his mouth was kissing your clit every time he quit licking to take a deep breath, looking up to your face every once in a while to see if you were still enjoying it. he knew when to stop, he knew when you were getting too overwhelmed. he knew all of your nerves down there like the back of his hand. he put all of your pleasure high above his, the both of you completely forgetting the fact that in the beginning this was only to make him relax and help him not to go insane.

you thought you were slick with this whole thing, keeping the burning feeling of humiliation and also some faint trace of love (that was somehow stronger than the other one. why?) in your chest hidden, never saying a word about it and hoping it would go away on its own once you return back home and lose every contact with this whole fucking shithole of a military base and the people there.

but a strong feeling hit back at you on a random thursday afternoon when you were just taking out the trash and checking the mailbox — bloodied dog tags of john mactavish shipped to you in just a bubble mailer, a small little note attached to it that you were the only person he mentioned by name in his will.

[inbarfink]

Part of Fionna’s frustrations with Mundanewold were subconscious longings for her old life of magical adventure, but a lot of her problems tied more into deeply-rooted issues of monotony and a feeling like she can't do anything to change her lot in life and like her actions don’t matter.

And it does seem like Fionna and Friends’ lives have been kinda Stuck in a Rut - especially when you compare the way their lives parallel and diverge from their Mainworld counterparts. Most of the differences are... rather than just different choices diverging into different arcs - it’s the same arc, but the Fionnaworld characters are just stuck behind.

Fionna is still reeling from the breakup with DJ Flame and only met Hunter at the very day our story starts. Marshall Lee has more Unresolved Issues with his mom compared to Marceline and her dad. He and Gumball haven’t even met yet. Not to mention the Mundaneworld-specific problems like Fionna being unable to hold a steady job or Gary eternally spinning his wheels about opening his own bakery. 

Fionna thought she wanted a world of magic, but while the added bits of strangeness and whimsy to Fionnaworld by the end of the show are certainly a cool fun bonus (and Cake is surely thankful to have the ability to freely think and speak her mind and stretch) - what Fionna and friends were really missing was a world where their actions matter, where things change, where they are real. 

And especially important for Fionna and Cake to admit it, because handling the fact their actions have consequences has been a huge part of both of their character arcs. For Cake it was all about getting used to the fact that her newfound human-like sapience means being measured against human-like morality. For Fionna it's about not comparing everything in her life to video games and thinking through her actions at least a little bit.

Consequences are the thing Fionna and Cake struggled with the most, but it was what they were missing all along.

Now this seems to be, like, an actual metaphysical thing. I mean, the show hasn’t gone super into detail of how Fionnaworld worked but it does seem like Prismo’s stories had an active role in moving the events of the World forwards, possibly using the same event-manipulating-Magic that make sure his Wishes have that Obligatory Ironic Twists?

And once Ice King turned back to Simon, Prismo lost all ability to observe or create stories for Fionnaworld. And what happens to characters of a story once the writer can’t access their external hard-drive anymore? They just sorta get stuck. Moving their own lives forwards without Prismo’s stories is just a lot harder.

And if there is some sort of force in control behind the scenes of Fionnaworld at the start of the series, it’s only Simon’s subconscious - a fact F&C alludes to numerous times 

And at the start of the show, how was Simon’s feeling about his own life?

In addition to Simon’s longing and memories for the pre-War world shaping the exact form of Fionna’s nonmagical world, perhaps his feelings of ennui and depression and helplessness have also subtly ‘infected’ this world?

It is perhaps not a coincidence that Marshall Lee and Gary Prince’s storyline only starts moving forwards after Simon embarks on the adventure and starts climbing out of his mental rock bottom. When things seem to move forwards for him as well.

As such, ‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld solves more of Fionna’s problems much more than simply making it as magical as Ooo but keeping it as a tiny hidden bubble in someone's dome. It ensures the World’s inhabitants’ free will and agency and ability to enact change on the status quo with no need for Prismo’s stories or being dependent on the still-kinda-shaky mental health of Simon Petrikov. Thus giving them a world where everything matters and things can always change.

But also there's a psychological element for the Fionnaworld protagonists. You know, the reason why Fionna is stuck in her rut is because she’s too impulsive and careless. Gary is too perfectionist. Marshall never had someone who would stand up to him against his mom.

Fionna’s whole arc in the show is about learning to be more thoughtful and careful and considerate through her Multiverse Adventure. While Gary and Marshall Lee find release from the thing holding them back within Fionnaworld, with each other. 

‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld is like... half actively altering their world into a ‘real’ one where change is possible, or at least easier - and half about an affirmation that their world was always real because change is about them outgrowing their personal issues (and also, y’know, about protecting their universe from the spiteful Beetle Cop).

And with how Fionna used to feel ‘trapped’ in the City, with nowhere to go and nothing to do - there is another change in Fionnaworld as a result of ‘canonization’ that feels very notable. 

I’m not entirely sure, but from Scarab's dialogue it seems likely that becoming a ‘real’ authorized universe just kinda manifested a whole planet and universe beyond the borders of the small existing Fionnaworld. Although I guess it's also possible that the process of repairing the existing city they found a way to expand it gradually - maybe it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that either way, Fionna’s horizons have been literally expanded. 

So you know, if she ever gets that thirst for adventure again... she actually has a Whole New World to travel and explore, it might not have (a lot of) magic but... she already heard Simon's stories of his adventures in a similar low-Magic world. It's a totally viable outlet for her.

What Fionna really needed to find the joy in her life is to be Real - to know that her actions have consequences for ill and for good. Because sometimes an adventure looks like saving a Prince of candy from an evil Ice Witch, or going on a multiverse journey to uncover a cursed Magic Crown… but it can also look like backpacking through Europe or campaigning against your evil landlady.

[coolingrosa]

There’s a reason I don’t like the Ink and Dream fight. I don’t believe it does justice to Dream’s character and villianizes Ink too much.

Dream main arc is about coming to terms with the death of Nightmare, but also accepting that what happened wasn’t his fault and the villagers were wrong. Nightmare was killed for things out of his control. His death could’ve been prevented if he was treated with compassion and understanding. Nightmare was not evil just because he was the guardian of negativity, and his morals and values around this also did not make him evil. The judgement casted against him that caused his abuse was unfair, as Nightmare could not control the hand he was given in life and what his side of the scale entailed. Dream understands as he gets older the importance of the balance and how the judgement towards Nightmare due to what he guarded was unfair and unjust.

And yet, when confronted with Ink, who has a moral compass and a job with expectations out of his control, Dream does the very thing the villagers do and condemns him. Rather than understand Ink’s position and acknowledge that what his brother went through is similar to the morality that Ink juggles, Dream pushes him away and villainizes him. Ink sees people as concepts and lets them sit in misery in AUS because he ISN’T ALLOWED TO INTERFERE REGARDLESS. He does not ever want to disobey the creator’s and his job as an overseer, so he never would. He partners with Dream to protect them from getting destroyed and respects Dream for this. But he is allowed to not get more involved and to have his own standing with things. Dream doesn’t have to agree, but if Dream was still reeling from the conclusions he faced from Nightmare, he should understand or at least approach this with a lot more grace.

Instead, it’s written as if Ink is a villain for his views and that Dream is a sweet soul incapable of harm. Ink is painted to be a toxic friend who manipulated Dream and poor little Dream fell right for his trap. If Dream was written to be a hypocrite in this case, that would be an interesting dynamic and character flaw. But he’s written to be correct in this argument, and it stomps all over his character development towards Nightmare’s death. Neither should be correct, because both have their own motivations. If it was accurate to Dream’s characterization presented, the fight shouldn’t have even happened. If it was before his arc, then yes, it would make more sense. But the lack of apology or conclusion post-acceptance-arc shows that it isn’t about Dream’s lack of awareness. It’s just about making him the angel of the multiverse while Ink is villainized once again for things out of his control.

And before people say Ink has a choice in the matter- no he does NOT. If he angers the creators, he loses his vials which are his temporary soul. He will turn into a husk and basically die. If he does not appease them and abide by the minimum rules in place, he will lose everything. Though he doesn’t listen to ALL the rules, that’s more fanon than anything. In his canon, he abides by them (mostly) and only interacts with outcodes- which is why he’s close with Top. Even if he doesn’t, he doesn’t push his luck too much to upset them or fail at his job, and stays hidden most of the time to keep the AUS from interacting with him. I can’t see him keeping that from Dream either- especially since Ink isn’t one to form connections and if he committed to a team-up, he had to actually care about Dream enough to trust him with those secrets. If Dream still shunned him and Ink was written to STILL be in the wrong, it’s a direct injustice to Ink and what’s on the line for him, and it paints Dream as selfish with a god complex. Which is fine! You can have a character with flaws! I would be so fine if it WAS about Dream’s flaws. But it isn’t. Because Canon Dream is a Mary sue of a character who can’t do anything wrong.

And don’t get it twisted, I LOVE Dream, which is why this fight angers me. If you want the fight, have Dream apologize to Ink and Vice versa in the future and come to an understanding. Allow Dream to admit his wrongdoings and have Ink do the same. Or if you don’t want that and want Dream to have more complex flaws toward Ink, THATS FINE!! THAT IS LITERALLY FINE TO MAKE DREAM A JERK IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS BC HE SHOULDN’T BE PERFECT. NOBODY IS. Make characters with history complex instead of tools to make your character more of an angel. Or don’t have the friendship breakup at all and have it be a fight that they work through together. You don’t even need to keep them working together. Like god just give Dream more complexity besides a little smol bean angel who is manipulated by everyone he meets.

My older sister and RoseVerse Co-writer saying it best: “i think this is the thing that arcane fumbled on when it came to cait

because they thought they wrote her has a beacon of virtue that when pointed in the wrong direction is catostrophic

but the narrative spent so much time trying to make the audience understand her instead of put in the work to teach her that yes, although she was manipulated, her drive to punish the undercity over one grief made her a hypocrite her mother wouldnt have recognized

dream in the same vein is supposed to be clear and cut archetype of goodness, and by that logic, nothing he does can be wrong

oh God killed all those people in the flood? he's good, and god is kindness and therefore the death was not only justified by merciful. but dream *cant* be an archtype of goodness if you also want them to have a character arc, they need to have flaws, be multi dimensional. you cant have your cake and eat it too. dream betrays ink and himself when he's met with the same situation and enacts the very violence he swore to protect his brother from. to frame that as good because dream is written to be good is crazy”

This is why I literally chose to ignore the fight exists because Ink and Dream are way too compatible as friends to be dumbed down in a stupidly written fight for Dream to get goody points.

[pinktie]

Can I trouble you with an ask about the Kurobas' parenting style? Pretty please elaborate on how they are both bad parents.

Alright, buckle up cause this is kinda angsty.

So, there’s something disturbingly manipulative about the Kurobas' parenting style.

Imagine being Kuroba Kaito, a 16-year-old boy who idolizes your deceased father, cherishing every lesson he taught you. One day, you stumble upon a secret room hidden beneath your own bedroom, and what you discover shatters your world: your beloved father, your role model, was Kaito KID—the world's most wanted criminal. You’re left feeling shocked and confused. You desperately want answers, but there’s no one around to provide them. In your desperation, the only logical thing you can think of is to step into your father’s shoes. So, you put on the Phantom Thief’s mantle, becoming the new Kaito KID.

Not long after, you uncover another devastating truth: your father's death wasn’t an accident—it was murder. Fueled by rage, you vow to find those responsible pay.

Except, your father isn’t really dead.

The most terrifying revelation is the implication that Toichi's fake death and Chikage’s absence are part of a long-term plan they’ve been orchestrating for over eight years.

Toichi and Chikage have conditioned Kaito to believe that he's good enough to become Kaito KID.

His father drilled the importance of maintaining a poker face into him, a skill that’s invaluable for a magician to remain composed and unshaken under pressure. For a performer, that advice is crucial to keep a show continued. But in this case, there’s no "show"—only real peril. It’s as if his father’s teaching to " Don't forget your Poker Face" was his way of saying, "Tell no one"

Not only that, his mother's lack of presence at the most convenient moment has left Kaito no other choice but to rely on the assistance of Jii, a 60-year-old man.

They are aware of what was coming for Kaito when he became KID—the enemies he’d face, the dangers he'd be thrown into. And yet, they still let him take on the mantle, knowingly exposing him to danger.

Not to mention, his room is dominated by a large photo of his "dead" father, serving as a constant reminder of the man he idolized. It reinforced his father’s presence in his life, deepening the sense of indoctrination with every glance.

If this was a deliberate act of parental manipulation, where they conditioned their only child to continue their criminal legacy as Kaito KID, it would be one of the darkest plot twists of all time—a reflection of twisted parental indoctrination, where Kaito was raised to unknowingly carry out their dangerous plans.

I'm aware that this isn't the author's intentions, but it's fascinating how, when viewed through a darker lens, the Kuroba family dynamic could be interpreted as psychological horror.

[yandere-daze]

I´m back to my Collar x Malice obsession (currently playing the FD) and so I just had to write something for my favorite boy! And since he already shows some yandere tendencies in the game, I decided to run with it. Hope you enjoy <3

gn reader

1.3k words

tw yandere, obsession, possessiveness, jealousy, manipulation, implied stalking, overprotectiveness, brief mentions of violence

General Yandere! Kei Okazaki headcanons

Okazaki strikes me as the type of person who could take an immediate liking to someone when meeting them for the first time but then needs a lot of time for true love to materialize. Or in this case, obsession.

He´s quite fond of you from the very beginning, he likes seeing you smile and enjoys being around you. But the true obsession only starts once you two get to know each other better.

He has been in a lot of relationships before and while he had liked all of his partners, he never felt like he could show them his flaws, he never felt comfortable being true to himself, always hiding away a part of himself in fear of rejection. It´s like that at first with you as well, he only wants to show you his charming and cool side as he wants to make a good impression on you. How would you ever fall for him if you knew about his past and his mental troubles? About his possessiveness and jealousy?

You inadvertently sealed your own fate when you encouraged Okazaki to be honest with himself and that you would accept him for all his flaws. That you wouldn´t turn away from him, no matter what. That you won´t judge him.

How can you say these things and not expect him to become absolutely obsessed with you?

For the first time, he feels this deep connection to someone else, he feels like he can be himself around you, even if it´s scary and difficult. So you wouldn´t mind if he let his obsession with you show, right? If he got clingy and possessive with you. You said you accepted all of him, right?

Okazaki for sure is a protective yandere. He works as a bodyguard so he´s an expert at making sure certain important people are safe. And you most definitely count as a very important person to him!

Whether you´re actually dating or just acquaintances, Okazaki will insist on accompanying you wherever you go so he can "keep you safe". And he´s quite persistent when it comes to this as well, not taking no for an answer and just tagging along anyway with a smile on his face.

It doesn´t even matter if you were planning on meeting up with him or not, he´s somehow always there whenever you go out to wander the streets. How does he always seem to know when you´re about to head out?

In truth, Okazaki keeps tabs on you even when you believe you are alone. Due to all his training, he´s more than capable of staying hidden in the shadows while still keeping a watchful eye on you. Even if you say you need some alone time, he just can´t risk anything happening to you. He´s still shaken up from that incident all these years ago where his inaction caused his coworker to die on the job. He can´t let something like that happen to you, his dearly beloved.

And next to making sure you´re safe from harm he also has to make sure you´re "safe". What does he mean by that? He has to make sure that no other men try to approach you to ask you out. He knows they´re no good for you, so just leave it all to him.

Okazaki has an uncanny ability to swoop in out of the blue whenever a man tries to talk to you, inserting himself in the conversation and making the other person uncomfortable with his unnerving smile and underlying threats. He can be quite scary when he wants to and thus it´s easy for him to scare people off. He also isn´t against using violence to get them to back off, whether it´s punching them or twisting their limbs until they crack, nothing is off-limits. Under no circumstances will he allow anyone else to sweep you off your feet, you´re meant to be with him after all.

Afterwards, he will explain that the person that tried to talk to you was dangerous. There had been warnings going around at work and so he tried defusing the situation immediately. You see what happens when you´re out there without him? Really, you were in luck that he just happened to be around! Maybe ask him to tag along next time again, okay?

Of course, that´s all lies. No such warnings about a suspicious person existed, he just needed a convenient excuse for chasing them away. He can´t let those people possibly get in between the both of you.

Okazaki is also just really really jealous in general. He doesn´t like it when you spend time with others and if you´re dating, then he would directly tell you this, though he tries to word it in a way that sounds more reasonable than "I want you to cut ties with all your friends". He hates seeing you smile and laugh around people who aren´t him, it makes him fear that you might be getting sick of him.

And he can´t have that. He vows to never let go of you. Strangely enough, he will actually tell you this many times (like he does in the game) but you just take it as a bit of cute possessiveness, nothing too concerning. You just don´t know how obsessed he is with you.

He canonically has thought about locking the player up so they´re for his eyes only so a kidnapping would not be completely out of the question I believe, though I do still see it as a last resort, something he would only do if he felt an immediate threat to your relationship or if he was close to snapping. For now, he would much rather use words to try and convince you to spend more and more time together.

It´s normal for a boyfriend to want to spend all of his time with his darling, right? He just loves you so much! He wants to spend every second of every day with you, aren´t you being a bit cruel by depriving him of that? Why do you insist on being with people that aren´t him? Isn´t he enough? Don´t you love him?

He can get quite manipulative if he feels like it will bring results. But also, he just genuinely feels like that. He just can´t fathom it, how can you bear to stay away from him when he feels like he´s being ripped apart every time he has to part from you?

So to no one´s surprise, Okazaki is very clingy, even before a potential relationship. He loves being close to you, wrapping his arms around you or resting his head against you. He also loves holding your hand in public, both as a way to show affection but also to show anyone else that you´re unavailable. He´s also shameless enough to kiss you in public while people are most definitely watching.

Resting his head in your lap while he falls asleep is also another favorite of his. He´s often exhausted from his job as a bodyguard and tends to not get a lot of sleep, so he treasures being so close to you while he gets to rest up. Please run your fingers through his hair too, he will sigh in bliss if you do!

Also very affectionate in the way he talks to you. Once he realizes his feelings for you, he won´t really try to hide that he likes you, perhaps only the extent to which he does. He loves calling you cute pet names, especially if they make you flustered. He loves teasing you, it makes him proud to know that he can have that sort of effect on you.

"You´re so cute when you get flustered. Tell me I´m the only man that gets to see you like this~"

He will truly never let go of you for as long as he lives.

[vividraft]

more than friends ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - in which you and Medi finally figure out your feelings for eachother ⋆·˚ ༘ *

⇢ ˗ˏˋ characters: Medicine Pocket

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important note: this is going to be my one and only reverse:1999 post. I honestly don't play the game enough to keep up with all the new characters, and that's why I don't think I will post for re:99 again... super sorry!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: this is like super unrealistic... why did I think of this, it's very poorly executed!!

masterlist

“Medi I need your help”, you stood in their doorway with disheveled hair, that one could tell was previously done and a half finished outfit.  “You look… like you previously looked good”, Medi eyed you up and down. 

You two had known each other for as long as you could walk. People would consider you best friends, although that is an understatement. You guys were more like… people who were tied together by the wrist. 

“I know I know, but I seriously need your help”, by now you had entered their lab and a dog started jumping at you.  “Help with what”, Medi looked back to whatever they were working on before, some tool in their hand, and eyes no longer interested in looking at you. 

You took a really deep breath. Like really deep. You could have exploded right then and there, from embarrassment or from taking in too much air at once. 

“I have a date today, and I… need to practice before this date”, your thumbs were twisting around each other like a young couple dancing. 

“Practice what? Dancing around your words like an Idiot?-”

“Practice kissing”

Medis' tool fell onto the floor, and silence laid upon the room. Medi looked at you like you had just committed the most heinous crime, and you stared back with a weird smile (?) and a really REALLY red face. 

You don’t know why you found this to be a weird request. You definitely kissed them once before. Granted, you were ten years old and you and Medi swore that you guys would get married when you were old. You had a fake marriage on the playground that day.  A real marriage never took place. 

Why did you guys never get married? 

“And why am I your candidate for this?”, were the first words that came out of Medis’ mouth.  “Because if I mess up, you won’t try to pretend but laugh at my face, and I need the honesty right now”, was the only explanation you could find. 

Medis’ stomach already felt weird at the idea of you going out on a date. The idea of you practicing kissing on them, to then go off and kiss someone else was just… wrong? 

But why did it feel so wrong? It’s not like you and Medi were a thing. 

“No thank you” “Come on Medi I need help”, you really did look desperate. Medi found it a little funny how you were begging to kiss them. 

Another long silence. By now you were standing right by them. 

“Ugh. Fine. But you owe me one”, Medi reluctantly agreed, yet seemed to refuse to get out of their chair.  “Obviously I owe you one. Anything you want literally”, this was going to hurt your wallet. 

“Uhm… alright”, suddenly the air felt thick. You felt if you were going to take another breath you might explode, or choke on the lack of oxygen in the room. 

And Medi felt the same, and neither of you knew. 

“Just…”, Medi was as flushed as a tomato already, and since you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, Medi seemed it was their mission to move. 

They brushed your hair behind your ear, and left their hand on their cheek to pull you down. You bend down to their level, since they were still sitting in that stupid chair, and your lips met Medis’. 

For just a quick moment, and you both pulled away again. 

None of you would have expected Medi to do what he did, but he pulled you back in for another kiss. 

And for another one. 

And another one. 

Your lips stayed on Medis’ long enough that you had the time to think about how you felt. Everything felt like it brought up feelings that you had long buried deep inside you, something that you had hidden not just from the world, but also from yourself. 

Everything felt right. Finally, right.

Your lips parted again, and you could only look at Medis’ face for a second, before they turned away, yet their ears were a burning red as well. 

Suddenly you darted out of the room. 

“Where the fuck are you going?!”, Medi shot up from their chair, face still red as ever. 

“To cancel my fucking date what the fuck do you think?!”, you shouted back from down the hallway. 

Suddenly Regulus looked around the corner.  “Oh did you guys finally figure out whatever was going on between you two?”, if an Apple could facepalm, he would.  

“Shut up Regulus”, you and Medi said in sync. 

extra: 

Back in Medis’ room, you were sitting on their bed, and they were on their chair, when they suddenly turned around to you. 

“Remember when I said that you would owe me one for the kiss?”, Medi asked. 

“Which you said right before not letting go of my face for a good while? Yeah I remember”, you replied with that stupid grin of your face which Medi loved hated. His face took on a little red color again. 

“If you kiss me again we’re quits”

taglist: @lupicalbestwolf

[deatheaterv]

ENTWINED

pairing : cedric diggory x fem!beauxbatons!reader

genre : fluff

summary : you’re a beauxbatons student in the triwizard tournament, just trying to keep focus. but cedric diggory keeps catching your eye. his kindness and charm make your heart race.

you weren’t supposed to notice him.

not at first, anyway. the plan was simple. keep your head down, focus on your tasks, and do your best in the triwizard tournament. beauxbatons’ pride was at stake, and you weren’t going to be the reason it faltered. but plans, as they often do, unraveled the moment you arrived at hogwarts.

he had been standing near the entrance hall when you walked in with the beauxbatons delegation, all grace and synchronized steps. his robes were just slightly ruffled by the autumn breeze, his golden hair catching the faint glow of the enchanted ceiling. he had smiled at you. just a small, polite smile, but it was enough to make your stomach twist into unfamiliar knots.

cedric diggory.

you tried to ignore him. really, you did. but every time you crossed paths in the corridors or caught sight of him across the great hall, your cheeks burned and your steps faltered. he had a way of being effortlessly charming, like the universe had decided he should be good at everything, including making your heart race for no reason at all.

“he’s staring at you again,” one of your friends whispered during breakfast. you froze, eyes fixed on your plate as though the arrangement of fruit could save you from the mortifying reality. “he probably thinks you’re cute.” you shook your head furiously. “no, he doesn’t. stop making things up.”

but then there were the moments when you wondered if they were right. like when cedric accidentally bumped into you near the library and immediately apologized, his words stumbling over themselves as though he were the one flustered. or when he caught your eye during the yule ball and smiled, just a little softer this time, as though it were meant only for you.

you didn’t understand how he could make you feel so completely foolish and small, yet seen and important all at once. it was maddening.

and then, one day, he spoke to you.

it was after the second task, when the champions had faced the lake. you had been the thing cedric needed to rescue, enchanted and hidden deep beneath the water. you hadn’t known, of course, not until you woke to find yourself on the shore, wrapped in a blanket with cedric kneeling beside you, worry etched into every line of his face.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, as though he were afraid you might shatter. “i was so worried.”

you blinked, trying to process everything. your head was foggy from the spell, but you could still feel the warmth of his hands on yours, steady and grounding. “you rescued me?”

he nodded, his cheeks pink. “of course i did. i couldn’t just leave you down there.”

your heart twisted, and for a moment, you forgot about the tournament, about the crowd watching from the stands. it was just him, his honey-colored eyes and the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “just… promise me you’ll be careful. i don’t think i could handle seeing you in danger again.”

it felt like the world had tilted on its axis. you managed a nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “yeah. i promise.”

that was the start of something tentative and fragile, like a snowflake resting on the edge of a leaf. you and cedric talked in stolen moments, behind tapestries or in quiet corners of the grounds. he was gentle, never pushing you further than you were ready for, but always making you laugh with his stories or his boyish grin.

it wasn’t perfect. you were still shy, still stumbling over your words when he looked at you with those warm, honey-colored eyes. but he never seemed to mind. in fact, he seemed to like it, the way you fidgeted with your robes or tried to hide your smile.

“you know,” he said one evening, as the two of you sat by the black lake, “you’re beautiful."

you frowned, glancing at him. “what makes you say that?”

he chuckled, the sound soft and comforting. “because you’re here, with me. and that’s all i could ever ask for.”

you looked down at your hands, feeling the familiar heat rise to your cheeks. but this time, it wasn’t so unbearable. it was warm, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

you weren’t supposed to notice him, but now you couldn’t imagine not noticing. he was cedric, and he made the world feel a little softer, a little brighter. and maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe you could be brave, too.

[thenaiads]

Hope and Nightmares

@alterdnbweek

Day 16: Pirates AU; enemies to lovers; Day 17: Non-human; hurt/comfort;

......................

Before starting this I need to explain a little this Au!!!

This is a Crossover of the book series universe "The Guardians of Childhood" (even known as "Rise Of The Guardians").

The story takes place after the Fearlings, Shadows, and Nightmares (here for info) break from their prison and start spreading chaos and destruction in the Universe, guided by the newborn Nightmare King on the massive ship Nightmare Galleon (yes, space pirates guys).

A big thanks to @mistythedritten for the idea XD

Once again I apologize for any grammar errors, I did my best. If you don't understand something tell me so I can correct and change things 😭😭😭

..........................

The cells in the galleon were something really horrible, they were small, and cold, with nothing to lie down on, or even pass the time.

The only company were of occasional Fearlings that observed it from the shade, as a kind of exotic animal … or a delicious banquet.

"How is our dear guest doing today?", asks a hidden figure in the shadows.

"Fuck. It's here.", thinks a young man with pink hair.

Stay calm Techno, he can sense your fear. You need to be calm.

"Very well Sir Dream, but I will not lie about my review for this place, I fear you will have to settle for two stars at most", it should not be so easy to fall back into the old habits with the being in front of him

"That's not my name Sir Technoblade," said the figure, their voice closer than before

"Oh right, my apologies I had forgotten Your Highness, the name you use is "Epiales the King of Nightmares", correct?", as the young man ends the phrase, the figure finally comes out of the shade revealing a pale-ciner face, white hair, and two silver eyes (too expressive and alive for the corpse that they were using) that had some gold around the pupils.

Fun, they look like a solar eclipse. How fitting.

"Exactly, very well! I see that your brain activities are still all intact, and after weeks of torture by my Nightmares no less, I'm glad.", he said with a cheerful voice and a sweet smile, a twisted version of his original owner.

"I mean, the nightmares are surely unpleasant but, nothing that cannot be managed in the morning once awake."

"Really? Last night's screams say the opposite, but it seems that I have to commit more!", the shadow man continues with a tone typical of someone who talks about something fun to an old friend.

"Please stop."

"Oh? Do you give up then?"

"No, just… stop using his face in that way, Fearling."

"…"

"Sir Dream was… a valiant warrior and friend for many, kill him and using his corpse as a marionette is already horrible, but using his face and his voice? This is low even for demons like you!"

"You forgot some important things in your description, general."

"And, what would it be?"

"You forgot to mention "lover" and "possible future husband", those simple words were like a sword in the general's stomach.

"Dream and I are not… we weren't…", it took a lot of willpower to keep calm and continue the conversation.

"Don't lie! Not to me, not when I can sniff any idiocy is about to get out of your mouth! He was as many things for you... as you were for him."

"What would you know about these things, monster?", the pikette said the last words with all the poison and anger that the man was capable of.

"More than you give me credit, dear general," said calmly the nightmare king, with a look of something that looked like empathy, it was an odd thing to see for a dark being like him.

"Why do you tell me all this?"

"I would like to offer you an agreement, general."

"And, would it be?"

"Better accommodation, better food if possible, and in return total surrender… and a place by my side"

"Are you serious?"

"I am."

"What kind of madness makes you believe that I would accept? That I would betray my companions?!"

"Even if I said that war and carnage are not my goals in all this?"

"Oh yes, I totally believe it, and I'm sure that the inhabitants of the three planets that you devoured and drained the light do it too!"

"Planets where I left some survivors if I am not mistaken, because they were not my main goal but, as you said now, their light were. I admit that I could have gone to a frenzy but, I think it is justifiable after centuries of starving!" "Or, do you want to deny even this truth, general?"

"I'm still not betraying anyone."

"Not betray but abandon. I'm asking you to leave everything and everyone behind yes... but, not to betray them."

"And, why should I do it? What do I really earn?"

"The possibility of saving your people, and your family from me, my Fearlings, Nightmares, and Shadows who live on this ship."

"Didn't you say that war and carnage were not your goal?"

"Yes and I mean it, but this does not mean that I will not defend myself when the troops come, and they will do it soon or later… I can't run and hide forever, and when the battle will come I will not give them any mercy… not like I gave it to you. "

"Waoh, you make me feel so special", he said with sarcasm that he missed the contempt he felt for being. "If what you say is true then, what is your real goal?", even if it was a lie he could not stop the curiosity that this conversation aroused in the young general.

"My goal is to survive at the moment, to find a place far from the sight of the Lunanoffs and their followers, and perhaps to finally be able to live in peace, as far as I'm allowed."

"Living in peace, really? And, do you expect me to believe you? You Fearlings and Shadow Men don't know anything about living in peace, or respecting the life of others, or anything about human suffering, Shadow!" "Beings like you only know how to prey on the fear and the light of others, you are not able to experience the slightest human emotion!"

"If this is what you think then, why did you spare my life that day? You had me at your mercy, and you could get rid of me, so why?"

"Because killing you like that wouldn't get rid of you forever, you would have returned sooner or later, with a new body to wear maybe, and… you had his face, and I… I was unable to go all the way."

"Is this really the reason, general?"

"…"

"I'm not your enemy, despite what the Lunanoffs say, and I don't wanna be. If you help me you could save a lot of pain on both sides, Sir Technoblade."

Silence.

"Revenge will not give you back what you've already lost, how it will not give me back mine. And I think that by helping each other we can make something good… new opportunities perhaps?"

"You speak like one of those snobs who give away the hand of their own daughter in marriage, you know?", he said it as a way to mock the other.

"In a sense is what I am proposing, only that it is my hand I am giving."

"You. Are. Not. Him.", he was so close to losing himself to anger for hearing such a proposal, "YOU CAN'T REPLACE HIM!".

"And I'm not going to but... he meant a lot for you, to the point of sparing me, even now after a month of mental tortures you are willing to listen to me and talk to me as an equal rather than a mindless monster. None of your colleagues would do such a thing, and you know."

"…"

"Listen… I may not be him, or be human for that matter, but… when I took this body I assimilated the soul that lived in it, with some of its memories. The soul has become a part of me, as much I'm a part of it now."

"..."

"Your beloved Dream is not gone, not in the way you think and it may not return to you in the way it was before this but, it's still there."

"Lies, you are lying. You are trying to manipulate me"

"I wish I was, it would be simpler.", his gaze was turned down as if he was ashamed of this administration.

"Think about it, doesn't seems a little out of character for me to keep you alive, without trying even once to corrupt your core, and turn you into one of us? That, nightmares aside, I kept you as healthy as possible, and I'm having a conversation to find a mutual agreement that can satisfy both of us? " "Don't you think that perhaps just perhaps, what remains of your beloved is still here, and is influencing me?"

"…"

"I don't want to give you false hopes, I am not and I will never be Him, but this does not mean that things cannot change for the better from how they are now."

There was a silence full of waiting in the air, which was broken by pinkette.

"Time. I-I need time to think."

"Of course, I will give you three days to carefully think about my proposal, and I will try to give you lighter nightmares to allow you to think. Is this a good agreement for you?"

"Yes, yes, whatever."

"I will wait for you, call me if you need me or anything.", and after saying this the figure of the King of Nightmares loose in the shadow from which he had come.

And the general was left alone to think and reflect on the strange conversation he had with the Shadow King, leaving him with many questions and perhaps with the slightest hope of reuniting again with his beloved Dreamling.

[cheemscakecat]

Invincible Spoilers [Viltrumite Thoughts]

When the big purge happened, the most peaceful and well adjusted Viltrumites died because they were deemed “weak”. We know this, the culture died and was replaced with the current regime and ideology. The best parents would have died too, the ones who would never think to kill their kids for being weak.

But the remaining Viltrumites would have still varied in how committed to the cause they were, even if they kept it secret. There would have been couples that really were in love, in private or no. Men and women who managed to crack each other’s hard exteriors and win the soft heart hidden inside.

For all the awful things that twisted love in the empire, the real thing never truly died. Children were still being born to parents that would do everything they could to prove they were strong enough to live. Couples still sacrificed their time for each other and for family. They were people, people vary in how warm they are and how much their career means to them.

The plague is what took out the romantics and the ones who desired children.

It killed the type of people who chose to get to know each other after training, slowly falling in love.

It killed the type who had “lesser” jobs and therefore more free time to enjoy another’s company and raise children.

It killed the generals and soldiers whose children and grandchildren loved their stories about other worlds.

It killed the ones that were getting by in a regime they didn’t fully agree with, but had to live in.

The 50 who survived were the strongest and most loyal to the regime. Thragg being the most deluded of them all and the face of their twisted beliefs.

It left individuals who would never have considered romance or parenthood. The ones who believed that there would always be someone having children

Some, like Anissa, didn’t want anything to do with opening up to somebody or “wasting time” on a child that may be weak. Or like Conquest, whose true love was violence, and only violence.

Others were overachievers that saw romance as a distraction from their training and missions.

I can easily see Nolan after hours in the training room, scoffing to himself at a couple who is spending time on “nothing”. He’s more concerned with the “important things”. Until Debbie corrected him at the baseball game, he hadn’t considered recreation as anything more than a distraction.

[Man was pouting over having to watch little league]

Maybe he never would have taken up writing, if not for the need to keep track of his old missions inconspicuously. Maybe book one started with a short draft that read like a brief report. I picture him begrudgingly going to a human library and checking out books on astronauts. Having to replay finer details of the mission in his head and change them to sound more human. Maybe that’s how he figured out he liked writing.

Kregg and Luthan probably never thought about romance and parenthood until it became their mission. Maybe they had never stopped to think that they might like it. And I doubt they’re the only ones.

If you’ve ever held someone else’s baby and felt scared you’d drop it, you wouldn’t be alone. But humans are pretty good at moving past that fear. We learn how to be gentle from our youth. We know how to handle an infant without hurting it.

Imagine being someone who never thought about having a child, from a world where it’s considered a waste of time with your long lifespan. And then you have to have a baby, because your people are dying off. You were never taught how to be gentle, you were never taught how to care for a baby. But now you must.

I think Nolan was the first to feel a deep, paranoid fear of crushing his child. If a baby Viltrumite is weak, and a human adult is like an ant, how weak must the half-human baby be? Man probably thought he could breathe on Mark wrong and he’d explode.

And then when the others had their kids, they felt the same way. [Except Thragg. He built different.] For the men, this was the easiest to deal with. Nolan, Kregg and Luthan could all leave their children with their wives. It’s normal for the baby to spend its early days close to mom. It gave them time to have breaks from the newfound fear and to get used to handling the baby despite it.

Thula had to handle the baby so much more, but she had a human husband to give her a break when she needed it. When the fear of accidentally crushing the baby got too loud to ignore.

I think the reason Anissa sought out a human husband after everything she did was because she couldn’t handle the baby on her own. Perhaps she thought it was because the babies were part human that all her peers were disgustingly shaken.

But that wasn’t it at all. They all would have still been petrified of hurting the babies even if they were full blooded. They were all petrified because they were responsible for fulfilling a mission none of them were prepared for. One where failure could mean extinction. For the first time in a long time, every new life was valuable in their eyes and the eyes of their regime.

It hadn’t felt so important to these people in particular when the empire flourished. They had never considered the love and sacrifices and fear of failure that “weaker” Viltrumites felt when they raised their kids in the heyday. They sacrificed their time for the cause and didn’t leave room for relationships. None of them knew how much their lives were about to change.

Family became a priority for them when it never was before.

Average child shenanigans surprised them because they never got to experience normal childhoods.

They had to learn how to respond to child’s play.

And how to give advice/discipline a child. It made them think differently over time.

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [2] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: WOW I DID IT?? AN UPDATE AYO!! No promises, but I might try to update this drabble collection every Saturday or smth 🤔 The thought for this was to make it a sorta prelude to establish the reader's relationship with Miguel, and to cement him into the universe a little bit before closing up this sequential collection and delving into shite that's more random and based off rando prompts or smth. Dunno, but we'll see!

--We Change Like the Seasons--

After your candid smoke break with Miguel, the universe apparently thought it'd be funny to throw Mercury into retrograde and absolutely wreak havoc within HQ.

Miguel, the man deciding he was responsible for all,  got affected the most: on bad days, comms exploded with barked commands and a plethora of scoffs; on worse days, a twisted frustration would fray his voice and heat his stare; on the worst days, he grit his teeth and flexed his claws whenever anyone so much as thought to come near him. Miguel didn't scare you, though. His temperament paled in comparison to what you'd faced in the military.

But you would hear the whispers sometimes, discussions about your leader going unhinged or feral. You knew how bad people moved, though, and you'd decided too long ago that Miguel was anything but a bad person. Prickly, sure, hot-headed and temperamental at times, too, but he cared. If he didn’t, then he never would have thought of funding and organizing an entire HQ and society for spider-people. He wouldn’t work towards saving everyone’s everything, either. You couldn’t help but appreciate his strong leadership, even if he did lose his temper every now and then. 

But still, you ended up keeping your distance for a time. Life had gotten busier, and you couldn’t bring yourself around HQ as often suddenly. You weren’t part of the “elite strike force” that Miguel had going, so it didn’t really matter in the end; you weren’t one of the best, you weren’t special. All you wanted was to help where you could, as much as you could. The important shit could be left to those more ingrained in all of this.

–--

Miguel felt your absence around HQ. It was like noticing the sun setting a little earlier on its way to autumn, the realization that the world would have a little less time in the light each day. A small thing. A simple pleasure one didn’t realize they basked in until too much time had passed since it disappeared. 

His mind wandered to the times he saw you before the small talk, the way you always gave little nods in greeting, whether you were passing by or coming for a meeting, and the way you sought out the younger spiders to check on them. And how could he forget about that pie you brought him? He wasn’t used to someone doing something thoughtful for him just because they wanted to. He told people where to go, what anomaly to fetch, but he never expected anyone to be so…you. 

"Heeey, Miguel? Head stuck in the clouds?" Lyla asked. 

"I–what?" Miguel blinked, suddenly feeling how dry and tired his eyes were from staring blankly at orange screens. "Santa Muerte. How long was I–" 

"Liiike ten minutes?" She smiled as Miguel sighed and rubbed at his face, willing the fatigue away. "But you got a special delivery." 

Miguel squinted over his shoulder. His expression relaxed when he saw it–a familiar, lone tupperware container. It sat near the very back, where the elevator doors were, hidden somewhere in the shadows. Last time it'd appeared on his centre console. Why so far away this time? 

"Thanks, Lyla," Miguel mumbled. He padded to the box and popped the lid open, indulging in the sweet scent of sugar cookies. A pleased purr rumbled in his chest as he peered inside, first spying an incredibly misshapen, large cookie that sat on top. Words in red scrawled across the creamy white layer of frosting, reading something to the effect of, "for Pa's frend Meegull." 

Meegull.

His hand rubbed over his mouth. Warmth bloomed in his chest, curling into an emptiness he’d long acknowledged, but refused to fill. Did he have a right to? After everything he’s done–

But those thoughts could be set aside for a moment, carefully and tenderly, acknowledging the state of his own fragility. This moment, this little thing, was a gift from someone else. Time and care spent into forging that spark in his chest for just a moment.

He could see ripples of the past: the messy chaos of the kitchen, smiles shared between father and daughter, a little girl refusing her father’s help and wanting to write the message all on her own. 

Miguel had been there too, once. In the sun and the rain, playing goalie for a little sports star, teaching her to dribble and pass and play nice with the other girls on her team. His little one was so like him–competitive, snarky, bright. She burned so bright she turned his heart to ash.

“You okay?” Lyla peeped, peering over Miguel’s shoulder. 

Miguel took a deep breath. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m–I’m fine. Just…yeah.” 

His confidant nodded. “Yeah. I get it.” Lyla adjusted her sunnies before flickering down to the box and reading the garbled message. “Awe, that’s cute.” 

Miguel huffed a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. It is.” 

“You think he’ll bring his daughters around?” Was that hope he heard in his little AI’s voice?

“Well, if he does,” Miguel started as he snapped the container closed, “I’ll have to make sure I thank them.”

–-

You laid on your back, one leg crossed over the other. Your wakefulness ebbed and flowed to the rhythm of whatever song buzzed through those old headphones of yours. They were beaten up things, artifacts that should have been replaced three times over already, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it; your girl loaned them to you on base all those years ago, and whenever you picked them up and felt the soft, crackled leather against your fingers, you'd be reminded of easier times, simpler days–a past where you were blissfully unaware. 

The memories hurt, sure, but the little bit of peace she brought you soothed your heart, while at the same time breaking it into two jagged parts. You wished she still stood by you, that you might find yourself whole again if she were still there. Maybe your serenity would have lasted, turned into marriage, evolved into something unreal, but that's not what happened.

Sometimes, you'd feel the icy prick of needles when you reached for the decrepit Sonys. They'd pierce all over, from your temples down to your ankles, and they hurt. God, did it ever hurt. Just like whatever they injected you with–whatever she injected you with–that bonded to your DNA, that made you more than human, and less than human. 

God. It hurt.

You remembered her so vividly. Behind the veil of black obscuring the vision of closed eyes, you saw her standing there, the spitting image of what your little Isabella would look like when she grew up. Only, you hoped she'd have the good parts of Liliana, leaving behind the frigid woman who lured you into an experiment. 

"You're gonna be fine, honey, just trust me. Your DNA's a perfect match. You're the only suitor for the test--you'll be the next Captain America."

Honeyed words, simple lies, sweet nothings–she did everything to trap you, but you would have bent a knee at "please."

"I trust you." 

But you really shouldn't have. 

Your hand curled tightly around the phone on your chest as you recalled the pain: the acidity eating your eyes, the boiling in your veins, the snapping of rearranging bones. It wasn't normal, not in the grand scheme of Spiderman and how his powers felt when they manifested. But you weren't exactly normal, either, considering you once coexisted with another in your body. 

Heat washed up your face. Your eyes slid open slowly, and you stared up at a perfectly clear, azure expanse of sky, blurred through molten, crystalline grief. Christ, why was this happening now? You'd done so well for so long, kept it all together. Why–

The door to the balcony hissed open. You rubbed your face, willing the pear-cut diamonds away, not letting them rest on haggard skin. Losing it in front of somebody wasn’t allowed. You weren’t sure if you could come back from it. 

“Good to know I'm not the only one who sleeps on the job," Miguel remarked, voice warm and latent with snark. 

You couldn’t help a huff of amusement yourself. "Great minds think alike, hey?"  You yawned and sat up, letting your headphones slip down to your neck while you messed with your nest of fluffy hair. "This is the only place I–uh, I…" 

You blinked dumbly in the face of a to-go cup held out to you. The roasted scent of fresh coffee wholly distracted you from whatever the hell you were trying to say, but you didn't reach for it. Was it even for you? You wanted it, but–

"This is the part where you take it," Miguel teased, reaching it slightly closer to you.

You grasped it with both hands, feeling a weird, pleasant, happy boom pulse through your chest and down your arms, rushing a dusting of rose to your nose and cheeks while your mind flailed helplessly. What the fuck was this? The hell were you supposed to do with this? Well, drink it, duh, but…

"I, uh…yeah, thanks." You held the drink close and let it warm your cold hands. It felt nice. "But, uh, why–?" 

"That's a stupid question." Miguel didn't even look your way. He leaned against the wall, though, and sipped from his own cup.

You were the one left fidgeting this time. You picked at the cardboard sleeve, tearing tiny rips into it before finally letting yourself indulge and take a sip. It was sweet, slightly too sweet, but in a very…well, Miguel kind of way: expected to be bitter, but decidedly the opposite.

"Didn't know how you take it," Miguel grumbled, hints of (oh?) embarrassment in his voice. Hah. Cute. 

"Hey, tastes fine to me. Better sweet than bitter, yeah?" You hummed as the tiniest of smiles fought its way to the surface. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. Seriously." 

Miguel's shoulders lost their tense edge. "Well. Least I could do, since you keep feeding me." 

"That's just my fatherly instinct kicking in; I got a mighty strong urge to take care of any reckless kiddos that run amok. Y’know, the ones who leap before they think, the ones who forget to eat, yadda yadda." You sipped your coffee again and intentionally ignored the indignant look sent your way. 

"Good to know you see me as a reckless punk," Miguel huffed. 

"Mh. Feel free to call me 'daddy.'" 

That got a laugh out of him, just a few breathy beats. "Oh, wow, I think I'll forget you just said that, actually." 

"Your loss." You smiled slightly against the rim of your cup as you stared out at Nueva York. "Can’t say daddy is much of a turn-on in bed these days, though. Not when you have little ones," you mumbled to yourself more than to Miguel. But the man had enhanced hearing, so of course he heard. 

"You're joking," Miguel said, exasperated. 

Your gaze met his and you quirked a brow. "Hm?" 

"You really had people call you that in bed?" The distasteful sour expression Miguel wore reminded you so much of your littlest one when she ate something she hated. You had to rush to swallow your coffee before you laughed.

"Yeah. Not my favourite thing, but it happens. Besides, I'm not about to tell them to knock it off in the middle of things." You shrugged and picked at the plastic lid. "Men 'n women 'n everyone in-between think it's sexy to call a guy that these days, y'know?" You shook your head and sighed softly, but still amused.

"These days," Miguel repeated. "How often are you–?" 

"A man's gotta eat, Boss." You smiled at him, letting that atrocious playboy slip out to say hello with the sort of smirk you gave him. You almost thought Miguel's ears turned a bit red, but it was probably just from the cold. 

"You can't tell me you're not getting any," you half-asked, half-remarked. “A guy like you?”

Miguel cleared his throat and sipped from his cup. "Guess I just haven't found anyone in a while." 

"Yeah?" You tilted your head back against the wall as you stared up at the clouds. "Huh. Not even any of the spiders?" 

"It's just–what's the point?" He burst. "At the end of this shitshow, all of us are going back to our dimensions, back to our lives and we won't get to–" his breath hitched, "we don't always get what we want." 

You dragged yourself up from the ground, being careful not to drop your drink, headphones or phone as you stood by your fellow Spiderman. You ditched your phone in your pocket before clasping a warm, heavy hand on Miguel's unyielding shoulder. 

"Miguel," you started, looking at him earnestly while he stared forward, eyes hard, but softening with the murmur of his name, "you can't think like that. Everything ends. It has to." 

"Not comforting." 

"Hey, hey, I'm not done." You gave him a small, friendly shake and felt his muscles almost relax under your touch. "Listen, if everything lasted forever, nothing would be special, yeah? Life would be meaningless, love wouldn't matter. But you get a chance to have that happiness–" 

Memories of roses in her hair came with a gentle gust of peculiar warm wind, so out of place in the playful nip of autumn. If you took a moment, if you closed your eyes and breathed deep, you might've caught the whisper of white jasmine riding the coattails of summer nights long since passed. That was your happy place. Somewhere you wished you could have stayed longer. Somewhere you were glad you could wander back to moments of quiet loneliness.

"--and it'd be a real shame to give up on that." 

Maybe it was the vibrato in your voice, or maybe it was the words you spoke resonating with him, but something sparked in whirling carmine irises, painting them a colour so like Dahlia's favourite red roses. You couldn't help but stare. You couldn't stop the thorned buds blooming in your chest, either. 

Miguel smiled, then. Light and sweet, with a sweep of those eyes, half-lidded and thoughtful, gazing back to the city. More flowers bloomed. 

"And here I thought you were a soldier. Where'd all that come from?" He asked quietly. His brows furrowed, though, worrying over something. 

"Eh. Lots of therapy." You pat his shoulder a few gentle times. "But I'm serious, y'know? Good things come to an end. And, y'know, if it really hurts ya, you can just use your fancy gizmo to go visit, yeah? Or, I mean, you can just find someone to fuck." 

Miguel gave you a look and the mood shifted away from genuinity back into clownery (thank God). "To fuck?" He balked. You nodded wisely. "You-- I'm too old to be sleeping around."

"Hey, hey, I sleep around. You're never too old." You almost managed a glare at him. "Sometimes I just wanna mess around, get laid, maybe accidentally find The One–" 

"Oh, you’re hoping to find 'the one,' huh?" Miguel remarked, definitely believing you. “How’s that going for you?”

You sighed dramatically and leaned into him like your will to live was running out. "Oh, It’s brutal. Lots of trial and error. Such a shame." 

"Mmh, I'm sure." 

[toons-inkwell]

Finding "Frankie" AU. Chapter: 1

Warnings: Death, blood, this is a horror game AU ya know so all that.

Words: 4,980. (Check reblogs after for author's notes if interested)

The sound of metal springs rapidly coiling and relaxing reverberated off concrete walls deep in an area hidden from the public's eye. What once was an attraction built to harbor cheer, joy, and entice adults and children to come play now was a demented trap built to trick unsuspecting fools looking for money. Posters and murals depicting what the mascots were supposed to look like were plastered all over, nothing but imagery that would give people a false sense of security before finding out what those mascots really looked like. Originally cartoons, the cast of a once beloved TV show now were twisted beyond recognition. The one the springs belonged to and what lurked through staff only areas was none other than the titular protagonist and namesake of the entire show, Frankie. Of course Frankie was a bit different from his on-screen appearance, in fact he wasn't Frankie at all. Sure his name was effectively the same and he had some semblance to him in terms of appearance, but from the very moment he was created he was told a different story. He was born of the soul and in memoriam of one of the departed showrunner's who died too soon, "Franky"—with a Y. Out of grief the remaining showrunner and the brother to the deceased crafted him to carry on the legacy, for him to help continue the show even in its... New format. He didn't like to think about that though, truth be told he didn't know what he was in his current state. He held no memories of what he was like, what Franky was like, nor did he feel like something that was once a man. All he knew was that he was created to help his brother get their show back and if that meant being a ruthless monster who would rip contestants apart, so be it. He knew his place and that was right alongside his brother–

["FRANKY!"]

Franky's long lop-ears twitched as he heard his name be called out over the facilities' intercom. His body jittered unnaturally, all the springs connected to his limbs froze up and he rotated his head to face a camera on the wall pointed directly at him. On the other side of the screen watching him dwelled his creator and only family, the real Frankie.

["Sorry there Franky, didn't mean to alarm you yet we got SO MUCH to do in such a SHORT amount of time that I thought it was important enough to use the intercom to speak to you!”]

The rabbit’s ears twitched again. With a tilted head he looked at the camera and stood still, not wanting the rustling of his springy joints to drown out whatever was about to be said

["While nobodies watching right now that won't mean they won't be soon! As of this very moment I've been getting everything in order for when they are! Apologies Franky for not telling you sooner but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that we managed to earn enough donations to get this show renewed for ANOTHER SEASON!... Just barely at least..."

Franky's ears raised slightly hearing the last few words muttered quietly. Keeping the show running as well as all the expenses of the parkour palace had eaten up most of the money they were supposed to be saving up to renew the long canceled television show. He usually didn't concern himself with the finances but if it was affecting the chances of them getting what was once theirs it would soon become his issue as well.

["Heh, don't you worry your big ears about it! Just meet me in my office, we have some BIG things to discuss this new season, I'm thinking for a little shake up!"]

With directions being given, Franky scampered towards the other rabbit’s office, scrunching down here and there whenever he needed to go down an elevator or up stairs. He often wondered why he didn't have an office like Frankie did, did he merely not need one? He did run on electricity, at least his body did, so wouldn't it make more sense to give him some sorta special room where he could recharge instead of having to share a room with the other mascots? Was it that he didn't... Deserve one?

With a shake of his head he dismissed such a silly thought and he pressed on into one of the final areas of the little show they had crafted. A momentous attraction dubbed "Frankie's Frozen Peak" that was ripe to face the action of people attempting to reach the top. Sadly no one even made it past the first area, let alone this final one. Despite the rather grim decor he had been commanded to setup, not a single soul was ever able to bear witness to the various platforms, hazards, or the rising pink "slime" that were installed into the mountain. Franky didn't really care about the lack of use the mountain saw though, in fact the less people he had to deal with the better. The only thing he really paid attention to in the immediate area were the various cardboard cutouts placed along where people would line up to participate. The friendly smiling face of what he was modeled after and what a cartoon should look like followed him as he veered to the side and ignored the mountain, instead heading towards a staircase on the side. With a quick stretch of his hand to the very top, Franky let his stressed coil arm relax and skyrocket him upwards. The entire stairway shook once he landed on it, his heavy feet kicking up dust as he tilted his head towards the human sized door with a sign next to it reading "CEO OFFICE". It was a tight fit but he was more than adept at squeezing into tight spaces, with a contract of his springs he waddled over and opened the door to the office.

There awaiting him sat Frankie, his supposed brother and the one destined to eventually take the role as the host once this silly gameshow came to an end. While Franky himself looked rather unruly with rows of horrendous sharp teeth, a maw always partially agape, and accessories that consisted of old scrap metal with a sloppy, almost worn down paint coating them, Frankie had none of that. The once human was what the TV show Frankie was supposed to look like, pristine, cleanly, and friendly looking. The only real difference between the cartoon appearance of the magical rabbit and Frankie’s body was the fact that Frankie had these small beady eyes and while his was smaller than his own prototype body, it was still quite large unlike the tiny toon that was showcased everywhere. Once upon a time when Franky first awoke Frankie himself was human as he once was. His brains and nervous system wasn't exactly attuned to his body like they were now but he could still remember opening his eyes and through faded vision being greeted by a smile of his brother who welcomed him back into the world. His creation was what led to Frankie becoming as he was now, once he was created and subsequently Henry Hotline, Frankie perfected the process and ditched his old human self to become Frankie to take back the old TV show and renew his place as the host. Franky was aware once the TV show was renewed he would not be showcased in it, he wasn't perfect nor anywhere near as appealing looking as his brother, but being the main one who the cameras focused on when slaughtering the contestants was more than enough to satiate his desire for fame. After all he has 57 seasons worth of footage of him doing what he did best, and soon it was to be 58.

"FRANKY!" Frankie greeted as soon as he saw his brother's rustling limbs and head squeeze down the corridor "took ya long enough! Now take a seat because you may wanna sit down for this one"

Franky looked towards the wall and noticed a chair. Considering his torso was twice the size of it he silently rejected and stared back at his brother.

"...Okay that's perfectly okay—now DOWN TO BUSINESS!" Frankie reached down and from his desk he pulled out a file holding a stack of miscellaneous papers "we got a lot of ground to cover... A lot..."

Although Franky didn't know what was in the folder of the papers, the intensity of his brother's stare alerted him to something being off. The air grew thick and he felt unsettled to know that something changed his brother's usually cheery mood. If he was capable of sweating in his metallic body he would at the sudden light switch tone shift and feared the worse about their current show and the future renewal of the original. With a small raise of his hand he reached over, hoping to take a peek at what could possibly be considered "a lot".

FWHIP

Frankie had slammed the folder shut and leaned back "HA! No, no, no, no! You don't need to worry yourself about this!" Frankie opened it once more and sifted through the papers, his head moving with each scan of the contents "I wouldn't want you to get stressed with all this, after all I know how sloppy you can get when you're out of the zone, wouldn't want a repeat of season 26 would we!?"

Franky's hand went back into its resting position and a growl emerged from his mouth. It was his personal way of expressing subtle annoyance although it quickly subsided at the mention of season 26. The cries were something that stuck with the viewers even after all this time.

"That's what I thought, now as for what we gotta discuss–" Frankie picked up a piece of paper displaying a graph, one that had the direction one line steadily set in the red "things haven't been... Great with the gameshow and for the past 3 seasons we've had to dip into the savings just to keep this place up, running, and funded"

Franky let out another growl, this time one of worry. If they weren't profiting or bare minimum breaking even with each season that meant there would be no big Finding Frankie comeback. With how much they desired to get that show back it made him fear their dream would be out of reach.

“What I wanted to go over with you was the ratings regarding the past few seasons and why we are actively losing money, it seems here that nobody getting far becomes boring, honestly the fact that barely now it's starting to become repetitive is a miracle!" Frankie chuckled and waved his hands in the air "now we are running a gameshow here and while we certainly can't let anybody win there's at least gotta be players to play in it"

Franky didn't understand...

The mascot saw his brother's confusion and sighed, with a shake and roll of his head to mimick and eye roll Frankie spoke in a quieter, more serious tone "Listen, while I know you just loooovveee~ ripping the contestants to shreds or squishing them underneath your feet we gotta break even this time or else there may not only be no TV show, but there may be no gameshow or even parkour palace!" Frankie held his head as it spun around on his spring neck before stopping "All you gotta do is simply hold off until I give the signal, heck maybe at least let them meet Henry, I'm sure he's probably dying to chat with somebody that isn't over the phone."

Franky didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

His entire body vibrated in discomfort. The very idea of anything different being done made him unleash a guttural noise from the depths of his head that was lined with bolts. Springs of his emitted a rattling sound as they stretched out, his hands and feet pushing against the confines of the tiny room. It was his show, not Henry's, why would the audience care if the contestant met Henry or not!? It was bullshit on every degree and account, until they got the money HE should be the one with all the attention on him. This gameshow would be the only time he got the spotlight so why was it being stolen by the person who the show was named after—Oh wait! That's right! IT WASN'T! The shows named Finding Frankie! NOT FINDING HENRY FUCKING HOTLINE!

"FRANKY!"

Franky froze up. The heavy tone carried by the other rabbit made him feel like his entire body had spontaneously rusted. Although incapable of seeing any emotion other than a giant smile, he could feel the rage in those black dots that stared at him.

With Franky slowly retracting back Frankie sighed, releasing his anger at his brother "...listen, I know you love to kill but just this once let at least one live okay? Just long enough to give the audience false hope, donate some more, and then once we reach a goal you can do with him whatever you please" With a wag of his finger Frankie switched back to his energetic persona, speaking hoppy and jolly "we're running a game show here, we gotta at least showcase somebody actually running through a few obstacles right?! This isn't just some snuff livestream!" Frankie suddenly perked up and looked towards a printer that had a stack of cold papers in the output tray "well... At least it wasn't intended to be" Frankie reached over and looked at a few of them, each page lined head to toe with requests of donors. It was times like this the once-human wished he could grimace and not be held back by his wide smile "I'm pretty sure everyone who sends us some of these just wanna watch you kill people in different ways, pretty uhh... pretty disturbing stuff now that I think about it" he scratched his head seeing only a few of the very graphic descriptions "eugh... whatever—THIS IS A GAME SHOW AT THE END OF THE DAY!" Frankie tossed the papers and let them fly about in the air before turning to Franky one last time. With a shoo gesture he gave one last command "go tell Henry he'll be expected to actually chase a contestant this time around, maybe that could liven up that old sourpuss, last I saw he was letting the stress of that talk show of his get to him again”

Franky said nothing and did as he was told, crawling out through the small area he fell all the way to the floor of the mountain parkour area. The springs his legs consisted of broke his fall upon landing down, his torso bobbing for a few seconds absorbing the impact. As he made his way to Henry's local he couldn't help but feel... Robbed? Was robbed the right word? He didn't know, all he knew was that he didn't like this direction the show was going in if it meant he was going to get shelved. The people didn't want to see Henry, and they definitely didn't want to see some loser in a costume run about, they wanted him! They wanted Frankie—or at least who they believed to be Frankie. His name was pronounced the same and even if he wasn't the host Frankie, that title belonged to his brother, he was going to cherish every moment of attention he could get where the audience believed him to be the one and only. Just the thought of having to give up something that belonged to him made his body quake but he tried his hardest to not show any emotion, not wishing to risk having an outburst that could easily be recorded on one of the many CCTV cameras scattered about. He'd just tell the objecthead the plan and get ready for what attention he could garner by only killing 3 of the 4 contestants immediately.

"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! It's all they FREAKIN' DO!"

Franky came to a halt as he heard the familiar voice of the talkshow host lament his frustrations. He was only at the museum and was surprised to find Henry out of his household, the mascot just trying to exert the pain of his head constantly ringing. The monstrous rabbit couldn't help but watch the sad display before him, smelling the distinct scent of rot that filled the air from a few of the people who he had killed.

Henry stood with his back to him, preoccupied with using some of the blood of the past contestants to create a grim mural as a testament and hopefully message to all those that saw to stop calling in "why does Frankie gotta insist on playing reruns—actually better yet why do the MORONS that watch them call the number—WE AIN'T ON AIR! QUIT CALLING MY GOD DAMN PHONE!" Henry placed his hands on his receiver, repeatedly picking it up and slamming it back on the hook to hang up whoever was calling "AGH! If I could get my hands on that stupid rabbit and his STUPID FREAKIN' SMILE I'D–"

Henry turned around and was met with the sight of two springs extending upwards. The rabbit had approached him as he rambled on and upon looking up and seeing Franky face to face he felt his blood and oil run cold. Henry dropped the receiver he held and let it dangle off to the side by its cord, his pitch black eyes eyes fixated on nothing else other than the rows of large sharp teeth and black spheres with glowing circles on the center that the rabbit had. His limbs felt heavy as he took a step back and tried to speak, his once normal voice now broken revealing a nervous one overlaid with what sounded like dead air or static.

"F-Franky! How nice of you to stop by! What can I uhh... Do for you on this lovely day?"

Franky didn't respond. Instead his eyes "blinked", the blue light turning off and back on. With a slow look past the mascot he stared at the mural behind Henry, one made out of pain from simply serving his role. Henry's "eyes" followed the path Franky's took, landing on the crude drawing he made depicting him with the message "DON'T CALL" next to it.

"Oh that?... Uhh d-don't worry about that, I'll clean it up, I promise! I know Frankie leaves you in charge of decorating after all" Henry clasped his hands together, the blood smearing further over his glove-like hands "I didn't mean to make that mess I just... Just... I can't deal with this GOD FORSAKEN ringing anymore, you understand? Right?"

Henry's voice glitched again, going back to its previous tones as he surveyed Franky's eyes for any sign of sympathy. Instead all he saw were those cold lights staring back at him. With a raise of a giant "gloved" hand Henry soon began taking more steps back, the springy appendage coming near him.

"Woah! Woah! Hold on there Franky!" Henry felt his back touch the smooth surface of the wall, the dark blood smearing all over his suit "Listen I wasn't talking about you! It was your brother who I was mad at!"

Henry winced and shrunk under Franky's gaze. With a past memory playing back in his head where the rabbit had been commanded to hurt him, the telephone head covered his face in order to spare whatever damage would soon come. Franky's big hand approached closer by the moment and Henry could only imagine the worse, what if Frankie had heard him and commanded his monstrous sibling to teach him a lesson. What if the Deputy had put him up to it? That quacking AI was always looking for every excuse to lock him up and maybe this was the opportunity the duck was looking for. His mind raced with ideas of both what Franky would do to him or what set the beast off. The constant flip flop between thoughts made his head rattle and shake as if he was getting a call. The migraine he had a moment ago returned in full force and he fell to his knees, desperately grasping at himself to keep his head still and quiet down.

click

"Huh?"

Henry opened his eyes, the heavy weight of a hand was brought atop him but there was an odd sense of relief brought along with it. Instead of hitting him or using those hands to crush the plastic his face consisted of, Franky had reached down and fixed the receiver back on its hook. The rattling stopped and the talk show host sighed, relief filling him as Franky continued to look down at him. This time with the knowledge that the rabbit had no malicious intent or cause behind his surprise visit.

Truth be told Franky pitied his fellow part machine part man. Henry was the second creation made using the leftovers of another deceased person, another predecessor to what Frankie was and his perfection. The mascot head wasn't as hideous as he was, but he still suffered from the result of imperfection and ultimately being just a prototype. While the idea of a character whose head was a telephone was a good idea on paper and worked well in an animated format, sadly when that fictitious character became a reality he suffered from horrible pain from the nonstop calls he received. Each time anyone would call in on the hotline Henry would be forced to advertise on his show or press a button on the many rotary phones placed about the facility it would go directly to his head. Even if he was nowhere near the museum or household he could hear the ringing every night when he was charging. The ringing and attention had driven Henry mad and Franky wished for nothing more than to relieve him of the horrid sound and pain, to be able to take over his segment just so the object head could catch a break. Sadly he couldn't, instead all he could do was be there and hopefully provide him some solace.

"Franky... You gotta stop, you can't just scare me like that!”

Franky understandably knew where Henry was coming from and gave a small nod in response. Against his will back when Henry lashed out at a caller on his talk show Frankie had sicked him on the telephone and knew where the fear stemmed from. He couldn't fault him for thinking in such a way and recoiled his hand away, letting Henry catch his bearings before giving him the message.

"Err– thanks for hanging up for me" Henry stood up and dusted himself off, although still dirty he tried to maintain what the pristine color of his red suit should look like "Now did ya come all this way to meet with lil' ol' me or did the higher-up boss man send ya?"

Franky raised 2 fingers.

"Of course..." Henry made a sighing sound and pressed his blood stained fingers to the numbers on his head, repeatedly turning the metal dialer around he said "What is it now? I certainly didn't blow up at anyone last night nor do I think I did anything to make the big man mad" he looked back to his drawing and pointed at it "it wasn't for that... Was it?",

Franky shook his head and pointed to one of the turned off TVs. It was at this point Henry got the message, it was an all too familiar gesture signaling what soon would be the airing of a new season of the gameshow they starred in. Well, they all supposedly starred in it but it was only really Franky who did the dirty work of taking out contestants. This season was clearly different though, Franky pointed at him and Henry didn't know what to make of the gesture. The cogs in and wires in his brain started to turn and after staring into those glowing blue eyes of his mascot partner in crime it all clicked.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! No! ya don't mean that I–!?" Henry pointed at himself "But I thought you were the–" he turned his finger to Franky "I know I am using their bodies for paint but I don't–" Henry gestured to the bodies before finally letting his arms rest to his sides. With another sighing noise he looked upwards, hoping he was mistaken "You don't mean to tell me the boss wants me to actually participate in the show right? I thought you were supposed to kill 'em quick!”

Franky continued to point at Henry and gave another subtle nod. He didn't like the idea either but ultimately knew better than to get jealous, besides this would be a temporary break for the object head where he'd be free of the ever present ringing. Franky regretted thinking such harsh things earlier, seeing how Henry reacted it was clear he didn't intend to steal the spotlight in any way shape or form. The rabbit overall did enjoy his phone—associate? Friend? Brethren? Whatever he was—he found Henry not only somewhat humorous but a stark contrast to his brother. While he occasionally worried and was fearful of what Frankie would do, Henry was the complete opposite and actually feared him. Franky didn't exactly like being feared but he understood it, trying his best to appear friendly and to ease any nerves he caused to someone he never wished to harm again.

This friendly and relaxed attitude did help. Henry took a step past Franky and started to head out of the camera’s blindspot, watching closely as the rabbit tailed him "Well I can give it a shot but I wouldn't know what to actually do, it's just chasing them and trying to grab ‘em right?”

Franky stood still. That was essentially it at a first glance but there was a bit more complexity to killing in his book. There was a right and wrong time to do it, like when they are trying to run back out from whence they came and they are only a step away before you quickly grab them, yank them back, and watch as they scream as they watch the exit they were so close to get quickly farther and farther. It was small things like that that made killing a lot more than just “grabbing someone”.

“Honestly if it's as easy as you make it look then I'm sure I can put on a show that'll be close to what you're capable of” Henry stroked his phone as if he were slicking his hair back and nudged Franky’s springy legs “of course no one does it better than you big guy, honestly it may be better if I give them one little scare and BOOM! You can come out and finish ‘em!”

Franky immediately nodded at the suggestion, his head rocking so fast his spring made it bounce up and down a bit.

Henry gave a small chuckle at the rabbit’s enthusiasm and kicked a vent open “alrighty I guess that's settled, be seeing ya once we're on air then Franky”

With one final wave the objecthead departed and Franky finally calmed down, giving a wave as he watched his friend intently.

Was Henry truly his friend? It was very well established the object head did fear him to a certain degree but simultaneously Henry was the only one he felt truly comfortable with. He loved Frankie of course but sometimes he couldn't help but feel like he just wasn't his brother. As horrible as that was to say, certain moments made the rabbit consider he was wrong in one more way than he thought. He held no memories of what Franky was like when he was alive nor did he have any interest to have those memories. Franky, the original, would probably unconditionally do what he was told and not question the commands of someone that was family.

So why was it that he was questioning Frankie?

It didn't make any sense and he felt himself grasping at ideas in his head that would perhaps explain. Instead all that Franky could think of was what happened with Henry and the mural still on the wall. The demented drawing made from the deceased was a straight cry for help made because Henry was created with a massive flaw. Frankie surely didn't intend for Henry to be pained by the very shtick he was known for but why was it that he forced the telephone to do his show every single night? Why did he force Henry to continue pretending to want people to call in? The question that plagued him most of all and was what caused Henry to fear him in the first place was why did Frankie force him to punish Henry for rightfully getting mad once? It wouldn't have affected the show that drastically and it was a small mistake. Was it simply that he was in the wrong here? Were the begging words of Henry truly meant to be ignored and he was supposed to blindly carry out such a task without question? Franky didn't know. He felt like he probably didn't need to know. After all, with a new season coming on the air he should focus on getting things set up for the incoming contestants. Everything had to be perfect, and if it meant blindly following orders then so be it. It wasn't just about the TV show anymore, this was about Frankie and his desire for this entire gameshow to grow into what it originally was. To be so much bigger, better, so much more than they currently had.

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 10: the storms

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: angst

series masterlist

Something settled in Cassian the moment you walked out the door. The realization of his love for you was one, as well as the acknowledgment of what he needed to do. It wasn’t working, and it hadn’t been working for a while. He’d talk to Nesta first but ... he needed out. 

It hurt him, a knife twisting deep in his gut that would leave a permanent wound, but he knew it was for the best for everyone. Part of him hoped you’d be able to convince him otherwise, that you’d try to, but another, stronger, part of him knew that wasn’t fair at all to expect of you. 

Did the existence of that part mean things could actually work out? He shook his head, it was a part, not the whole. 

“I was just giving her a head start,” he told Nesta, pulling on his clothes, “but I'm not letting her wander out there alone.” 

“I’ll stay here in case she comes back,” he received as a reply. It was good enough. 

Moving on silent feet, he clicked your door closed before jumping down the landing, making his way out into the night. He was airborne in seconds, flying how he was taught to when he wanted to stay hidden. 

Cloud cover helped keep him hidden, didn't help as much finding you, but he still managed to track you down with little difficulty. Crossing one of the bridges in Velaris, your feel still bare, shirt falling off one shoulder, you paused and gripped the railing. 

Fear spiked, instinct had him sweeping in, landing quietly next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to tether you to the cobblestone. You tensed beneath his grip like you never had before. It felt like another sign. 

“I wasn’t going to jump,” you hissed at him, slipping away from his hold. His grip tightened for a second before he remembered, letting you go, and loosened. Cassian could’ve sworn you almost seemed disappointed, but he knew better. 

You’d run out on them, something was wrong and his touch might be the last thing you wanted right now. It was wrong of him to grab you like that. Fuck. He took a step to the side. 

“How are you?” He cleared his throat, dropping his arm, and one hand brushing some of the windswept strands from his face, he hadn’t taken the time to tie his hair up. Hadn’t had the time to care with you out there alone. 

“Fine,” you said through pursed lips. Not fine, then. He’d learned that much from his time with both you and Nesta. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not particularly.” 

“What do you need?” 

“Silence,” you snapped at him. “Solitude.” The animosity rolling from you made him want to laugh, but even he knew that would be the wrong move. A cornered kitten still had sharp teeth, and it’s less afraid to bite. 

“I can give you one of the two,” he grinned, white teeth flashing in the night. It was cute, really, that you thought he’d leave you alone when you were vulnerable. Current feelings or not, the most important thing to him was that he cared for you, and Cassian didn’t abandon the people he cared about. The two of you were out there half the night. 

-

Cassian was adorable, that was true, but right now he was driving you a little bit crazy. You’d left because you wanted to be alone, without any overbearing males and females, because the room had felt too much and everything too overwhelming. The affection coming from him had felt like a gift you didn’t deserve, and being here with him now only solidified the earlier guilt you were feeling. 

You heard the boom of thunder, just a second before the rain rolled in. Fat droplets of water splashed against your cheeks, soaking your already thin clothing instantly. When Cassian wrapped his arm around your waist this time, you didn’t fight him, you let him tuck you into his side and give you that small bit of shelter and comfort. Really, he blocked some of the rain, you told yourself. It was only practical. You’d be outside half the night, anyway. 

The thunderstorm should’ve been an omen, your love-addled mind found it romantic. 

You saw both of them quicker than you were used to, just two days later compared to the typical week between seeing them together. 

They insisted on making dinner, a pasta dish that was your favorite. They should’ve known better than to ruin another good thing for you. 

“It’s not working,” Nesta said, too soft and gentle. 

Cassian cut her a sharp look, but she didn’t turn her attention away from you. 

Bile rose in your throat, your stomach clenching. This was a break up. 

Tears, traitorous and horrible tears, pricked at the corners of your eyes, with angry fisted hands you brushed them away. 

“Why not do this months ago?” You asked. 

“Oh, when you would’ve killed yourself?” Nesta snapped at you. There it was, you preferred the venom over the sickening sweetness and mock concern. Sure, it might be genuine concern, but right now you needed a villain and they were the easiest targets. 

“What makes you think I won’t now?” You snapped back. At their twin looks of horror, you scoffed. “I’m not giving you that satisfaction, don’t worry.” And you’d put in too much work to throw it away for them. 

“It wouldn’t be satisfying,” Cassian said. 

“Good to know you’re still a bitch,” Nesta said, teeth clenched. 

You shoved your chair back, standing. They copied you. “You can leave,” You used a fork to point towards the door, then let it clatter back onto the plate. It sounded like a clash of swords, a battle of wills and wits. It echoed the sentiment in the room. For several moments, the three of you looked at each other in that tense silence, hazel and grey-blue eyes meeting your own, you were forced to dart back and forth between the two of them. It was a battle, and you had losing numbers. 

Later, you wouldn’t be able to recall how they ended up in your bed. It was heaven and hell. 

Nesta’s teeth nipping harshly where your neck and shoulder met, Cassian’s teeth digging into your inner thigh. His tongue flicking against your clit, hers against your nipple. Each hand, mouth, and attention all focused on you, as if you were, just for the night, still the axis of their worlds - it was a beautiful lie - and at the end of the night you slept poorly, aware of the sounds of people moving around in the middle of the night, the next morning you woke to an empty bed. 

And a world of new, soul shredding pain. 

-

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy

[lovezbrownies]

Hello??? I just found your blog and omfg your writing is DELECTABLE 💖 I especially love Red ❤️‍🔥 you don’t have to but if you don’t mind could you share some more info about him? Like maybe some head cannons, please?? It’s up to you though!! Love your work!!!! Have a nice day/night, cheers!

Thank you!!! leajdsjhj, super glad you enjoyed Red, honestly I loved writing down his story :3 I'll probably add more to his character later on! keep in mind he isn't as twisted in this as he was in his intro post but i will write something like sometime in the future.

Yandere!Boss headcanons.

Masterlist

Red Ludenhart x Reader

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, murder, torture, suggestive at the very end, but cute overall :3

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~Red is very romantic. You could go out for a coffee run and somehow come back to your apartment covered in roses, balloons, 15 different gifts, and a very horny Red. You really won’t see the end of it! He’s obsessed with you and he will let you and the entire world know. With Red’s income this man can easily rent out an entire restaurant just to have a nice private extravagant dinner with his loved one. Although he is a tad bit crazy if he finds out you’re uncomfortable with him doing that he would bend over backwards just to find out what your preferences are. Red wants you to love him as much as he loves you, so why would he ever try to make you uncomfortable? You make his life better so he’ll make yours perfect.

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~Red is also quite affectionate, an arm always around you, his face nuzzled somewhere on your body, kissing at any spot of skin he can find. He especially loves it when you just randomly go on his lap. Red loves it when you’re on his lap, he loves to completely wrap himself around you, cocooning his little butterfly. If he, for some reason, can’t touch you, rest assured he will grab at your shirt instead, his love and need for affection knows no bounds, really! If Red ever catches you wearing jeans oh lord you’d have to physically pull him away from you because he will put his hands on the back pockets of your jeans. Or he would grab your hand and put it in his own back pockets, he just finds the whole act so cute!

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~Red refuses to go to work if you’re not there. An investor wants to speak to him? Tell them to wait. There’s a storage issue? He’ll deal with it when you two get there. This man would not work without you there even if the Queen told him to. People have come to learn his schedule is your schedule, if they see you’re not there they won’t bother trying to find him. Even when he is there, he will most definitely neglect a lot of his duties in favor of you, pulling you away for an impromptu makeout session, just staring at you like a lovesick puppy; fair warning he will get upset if anyone dares to interrupt his precious time with you.

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~You should be careful if you do go out with him  however, because if Red catches anyone trying to make a move on you he goes absolutely ballistic. While he knows you’re smart enough not to cheat on him, others aren’t. Red cannot handle the fact that other people can perceive how attractive you are, and what’s worse is when they act on their feelings. Red has a tactic for these parasites. Act like it’s okay, get to know the freak, then pay good money to have them kidnapped and tortured for a very long time. He even pays extra for a recording of it! Of course Red has all these recordings well hidden from you and checks you’re nowhere nearby before watching them.

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~Red values family. While he understands if you have a complicated relationship with your family he hopes you can still get along with his. Red’s family is incredibly important to him, some parts of his childhood weren’t the best due to his biological parents, he was thankfully adopted by his new dad, Grim Ludenhart, and given the best childhood possible. Red would let you choose when to meet all of his family, but meeting his biological younger sibling is something you will not be able to skip on. Red values Siolis’ opinion quite a bit– so if they end up not liking you it will hurt him. While it won’t deter him from pursuing a relationship with you, this drift between the two most important people of his life will cause him a great deal of pain. But thankfully Red’s father, Siolis, and the rest of the family did end up approving of your relationship, welcoming you in with open arms.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

~Speaking of families, Red is amazing with children. But does it mean he wants any? No, not necessarily. If you do end up asking him for kids he will gladly provide two, preferably adopting. No more, no less. Red would be a phenomenal father, loving his kids equally and ensuring that anything they want they get. He will keep his job hidden from them up until they are teenagers, by then Red isn’t that worried of the influence his job might have on his kids. Red will buy a big enough house with a huge backyard right before you have kids. This man refuses to skimp out on them, just like his father.

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~Oh boy how excited Red gets in the bedroom. This man is NOT vanilla at all, introducing all types of freaky shit into the bedroom, with your consent of course. Red adores the act. And not in a kinky way at all, he loves how close you two become when you do the deed, how intertwined you are, how you desperately grab at him, how you look just as you’re about to let go, how even after multiple rounds you somehow manage to turn him on once again, causing him to become rock solid before he can even pull out fully. Also want to mention Red definitely has some form of food or mouth kink. This man loves shotgun kisses, the way you cough it up causes his dick to dig straight into your back. He loves to do this with any substance really, if it went from his mouth to yours, or better yet your mouth to his expect a complete mess in his pants.

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~Point is, this man is so loving. While also kind freaky :3.

Lil quick drawing I made of him :3