#i definitely have plans to touch on this concept in the fic i'm writing...like. think about it. imagine being peculiardom's hero

[edenslice]

it just occurred to me that if noor ate caul's soul in TDoDA, there's a possibility she has access to caul's peculiarity and memories when he a wight and/or the souls he consumed in abaton...

think about it. light eaters were mentioned in museum of wonders but the books made it seem like they're one of the rarest and most powerful type of peculiars (along with the librarians). noor killing caul must have some form of powerful consequence, right???

[crazybiscuit]

Uptown Girl

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you. Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead". Word Count:  2287 Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider! A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process. On another note, chapter 2 should be posted on the 28th!

 

“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.

“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in a pub.”

You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”

You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if he couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fouls who can’t maintain our estate.”

You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.

The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.

“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”

“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he cast another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you.”

You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know… I'm sorry. This is all just frustrating.”

Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.” 

Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.

“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”

Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”

They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.

You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.

You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.

By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.

“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”

His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”

The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”

“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”

“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud decor scattered around the room, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”

“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”

That confused the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich, purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.

You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him digging through his bag for his notebook, “How long will this take you?”

His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…” 

It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it that way.”

Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.

It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him. To entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you should write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.

The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather. Rain was always such a nuisance.

You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything. Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”

The last part was mumbled under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”

“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.

Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.

He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.

You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and pajamas, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”

You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.” 

“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.

“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”

He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”

His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice.”

He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”

He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.

“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.

“Remus.”

It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.

“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”

“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.

You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”

Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”

Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your  jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our solstice party on the 21st.”

Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”

[lunarmango]

Flickering Lights

Demon Alastor x Human reader fic? ON IT. I'm so siked to make this a series and I hope who reads this enjoys this as much as I do. I wanna get into writing. (I don't write, I draw) and I was thinking of making a longer fic, the details were so hard to piece together. I really enjoy the concept of demon Al with human reader. So here we go!

Word Count: 2k

TW: None for now? Pretty mild stuff haha.

Chapter One: Moving in

New Orleans, Louisiana

1946

Where wandering spirits were said to roam, walk and explore more frequently, being an area where people would find it easier to communicate with them, or so you were told. You were convinced it's utter nonsense to be completely honest. The whole notion of spirits was so far fetched you just couldn't bring yourself to even fathom them. Though not opposed to being proved wrong.

It's been years, saving for a house. Your apartment was small, cheap and far too crowded with furniture and items you just can't let go of. From a suffocating apartment to a house. You were practically buzzing from excitement. Like, literally almost shaking.

A new chapter in your life.

When you walked in, you suck air through your teeth in anticipation, the cool air hitting your teeth invigorating you, fingers fumbling with the old metallic keys that jingled in response, finally able to slot the correct one in the door and push open the dark wood hastily, the hinges swinging and the door practically flying.

You winced at the loud thud when it slammed on the white painted brick wall. Taking a few deep breaths, you decided it was best if you didn't wreck your new house on the first day. You think you would actually cry if you did, and you were not willing to test that theory. Checking the wall where the door hit with a small grimace of anticipation, you close the door behind you, relieved to see the wall is fine, your face relaxing again as you take yet another deep breath through your nose.

House tour!

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you begin wandering from room to room, you take in the spacious kitchen and living room. Though it lacked a certain homey touch. But you were aware why. There was no furniture after all. You had a vision for the house. Just had to wait 3 days before you could make it happen and the furniture would arrive. You had big plans, that did not pair well with your lack of patience. You already had multiple shitty sketches of how you roughly wanted each room to look. The furniture is all you need, it'll arrive soon enough. Hopefully.

You're going to need to find a way to pass the time.

First things first, you still haven't explored the upstairs! Running your hand gingerly along the wooden railing as you hop upstairs, the hard floor creaking occasionally under your feet every few steps, you take a sharp left and step into the master bedroom. It was massive. You feel a grin etch at your face as you peek your head inside. You're definitely getting a king sized bed. With a nod you left the room, confident you were going to be a pro napper at least a month within getting your new bed.

You open the door to the bathroom. Spacious enough, room for a decent sized tub and shower. Although you never really saw the point in baths if you wanted to get clean. You step out and look into the spare bedroom. Maybe a potential study? That or the attic. You always were sure that the environment can heavily affect the quality of ones work.

Was such a big house going to make you feel small? Possibly alone? You scoffed to yourself. Who cares when you have such a house?! Expensive too. Ho ho you were going to have fun "subtly" showing off this house to your friends.

With a quick, dismissive peek to the spare room you turn on your heels, going up the stairs to the attic with cautious steps, the worn wooden panels making such loud noises in retaliation to your steps that you were afraid that they would give in. Your hand gently opens the rattly metallic doorknob and open the door, squinting only to see a small switch on the side of the door. You flick it on and hear the buzz of a weak warm light turning on above you, fully illuminating the room the best the small warm light can.

First thoughts? Dusty. Very Dusty. Every box, book and the long desk and chair at the end of the room practically black and gray from the abundance of dust. A sigh escaping your lips, realising just how long you were going to be cleaning for, a task you were not mentally prepared for yet. Making your way to the desk, you approached a large wooden desk, most of the surface blocked by a large panel with knobs, switches, dials and little doodads that slide up and down. The sliding doodads having small, mini light bulbs at the top of each. You look at the corners and edges of the panel, looking for an on switch or something.

Nothing.

It was probably unplugged?

Nevertheless, as foreign as the panel seemed to you, a surge of determination drives through you to figure it out. It seemed expensive. Whoever used this probably cared deeply for it, the text of the brand faded, showing the love and use the panel had been provided with. If it was so well used, you had to figure out just why it was loved so much.

To begin, you had to figure out just what it is. Turning it on seemed like the obvious option.

Crouching under the table to look to where the cables lead, you notice a microphone on the floor. Wrapping your hand just above the flat base of the microphone, feeling the coolness of the metal and the sandy texture of the dust between your skin and the metal, you try to lift it. You were suprised to find your hand faltering slightly at the sheer weight of the microphone, dropping forward onto your knees to provide a better position to pick it up in, using both hands to stand up and set it in front of the panel with more ease. It wasn't that heavy. But you didn't want to drop it. Wasn't this supposed to have headphones...?

Once more, you go down on all fours, looking under the desk, when no sign of somewhere to turn on the panel or headphones appears, you circle round to the back of the desk, finding a wire and an unplugged plug. With a small huff that caused far too much dust to fly in the air, triggering a cough from you. Slotting the plug in the panel above you hums to life and flickers on once more. A small hushed yes emerges from you as you slowly stand up, brushing the dust from your knees, then your hands.

You walk back in front of the desk, flipping some random switches for the hell of it, satisfying metallic clicks and clanks as a result of your tampering. Then proceeding to tap the microphone, you blow on it to rid it of the pesky dust, stepping back to let the dust fall.

You took a moment to appreciate just how expensive this radio setup must have been, so big and complicated it made your mind whirl just trying to decipher what each control did. You brush away some more of the dust from the panel, running your finger between the buttons, trying to look for labels, or some sort of guidance, only to find them worn out, white writing so etched and scratched at on the metallic reddish-brown surface that it was unreadable. A soft smile tugging at your lips in realisation of just how loved this equipment really was.

You’ve seen the basics of what a radio setup should look like, without having to remember the separate into bitty details of the control. Panels, a microphone. Where were the headphones? You look below the desk, bending at an uncomfortable angle to the shelves situated under the left of the desk.

Nothing.

Not like you could broadcast anything even if you wanted to. Why do they use the headphones? To listen to the sound of their own voice? How proud and snobby must one be to love their voice that much? An audible scoff from you. You know you wouldn’t be able to put up with anyone of the sort.

Using both hands, stabilising the microphone properly, you pick it up, with a smart smirk, looking at the empty wall you begin speaking to your imaginary viewers, mocking the accent radio people had to use to the best of your ability. “Hello my dear viewers! Welcome back to my boring ass show, talking about shit that probably serves as background noise” A snicker escapes your lips as your smirks stretches wider in amusement, gently putting the microphone back down.

Eager to make your made up show more believable, you move away from the desk, eyes scanning the worn wooden panels of the floor. Remembering you looking earlier you let out a hefty sigh. Were you really going to spend hard earned money for a few minutes of make-believe mucking about like a child?

Oh definitely.

Lost in thought, still staring at the floor, chuckling in thought a distinct noise snaps you out of the haze of your mind.

Click

You look over your shoulder to the direction of the noise, the desk, trying to place the exact location.

Another click

It was from the panel? You turn back to the panel, looking down on the panel as the clicks increase in frequency, switches being flicked, dials turned. A particular pattern caught your eye being the fact that during the abundance of alterations to the controls of the panel, no knob or slide was altered twice, almost if it was altering itself the clicking now a steady rhythm. What a ridiculous idea, as clueless as you were about the technology you were almost certain it wasn’t that advanced.

The clicks slowly come to a stop, one last slider slowly going upwards to a certain line before it stops completely.

“Eager to hear my voice?” You mutter under your breath, a dial slowly turning, one of your eyebrows quirking up in response. Spirits and ghosts don’t exist.

There’s always a what if.

What if they do exist?

What if you’re the first to fully realise this?

What if you’re living a ghost story?

After all, things moving on their own in the dusty attic of an old house was never a good sign.

Yeah no who were you kidding.

But just to make sure.

You bend at the waist, your lips as inch away from the crosshatched metal of the top of the microphone.

“Can you hear me?” You say in a teasing low purr, holding back a laugh in your lungs, helping to alleviate the tension you’re beginning to feel rising up in you, pressing in on the sides of your head. Jokes always help. Well. Not always. However you can’t exactly help it either.

A flicker of the small light bulbs, emitting a warm light above the sliding controls. You couldn’t help but still be sceptical. Your voice now has a newfound edge, the whole situation making you uncomfortable.

“You- can?”

Another flicker from the same small light bulbs.

A nervous laugh rumbling from your chest.

You had to figure this out, because you wouldn’t put going insane past you. Maybe a break from the attic would be good. Probably buy some headphones. As unsettling as the panel is, having the set incomplete irks you unnecessarily, and it was an enigma you couldn’t help but feel determined to figure out.

[witchywithwhiskey]

okay but will we be getting some fem gloryhole action in the trucker!jake jensen series? 👀 like you know the one where a girl is lying down and just her butt and stuff pokes out of a hole (that was a weird way of describing it lol)

it's so fucking hot. like imagine her just lying there and anyone could walk up and do anything they'd like...

hi nonny i'm glad you're enjoying my trucker jake jensen series!!

i haven't decided yet if we're going to see the reader in that series back in the glory holes. if she does go back, i'd probably write it in a way where it's still mostly about Jake since their relationship is why i like writing that series. (but actually you have given me an idea......gonna keep that one secret for now 🙊)

that said, this is a whole AU with as many chris evans, sebastian stan and henry cavill characters as i want to add and i definitely plan to revisit the glory hole concept, i just haven't figured out how yet. the whole concept is hot but i need characters and a relationship dynamic to interest me in writing something—i think that's why all my fics end up so long 🫣

although now that i'm thinking about it, i have been curious about what kind of reader would work for Ransom, and i maybe have an idea. (18+ content below!!!)

what if you're the daughter of one of Ransom's business associates? what if he has a whole host of clubs—night clubs, whiskey lounges, etc. and Diesel Dolls is his secret pet project that he keeps because he's, of course, a perv.

but you don't know about that side of him. you're a spoiled heiress, with a rich father who's invested in Ransom's night clubs, which means you're an adult who basically parties for a living. and you're a regular at Ransom's night clubs, always getting the vip treatment because of your father, and he's always been so nice to you, just like all your father's business partners.

but one day you learn about Diesel Dolls and you're so curious, you ditch your normal crowd and driver and take a cab to the strip club just off the highway outside of the city.

you're immediately enraptured by the sensual dancers and the low lighting of the club. you've paid for a lap dance and are chatting with the dancer while she straddles you and grinds on you, when Ransom discovers you.

he's furious—he doesn't want your father to find out about his little business, let alone the definitely illegal glory holes in the back room, but you reveal that the dancer told you about the glory holes and you want to see them. or else you'll tell your father.

so Ransom takes you into his office, where there's a bank of monitors on his desk that show a live feed of everything going on in the back room of Diesel Dolls. you're overcome with arousal as you watch one girl with her lower half hanging through a hole in the plywood wall be pounded by a big, filthy trucker.

Ransom presses close to your back, and you're so transfixed by the different views of all kinds of truckers being serviced by the glory hole girls, that you barely notice his fingers toying with the hem of your tight dress until his touch against your thigh makes you shiver.

Ransom mocks you for getting so turned on by the sight of his girls getting railed in his glory holes. he calls you dirty, he calls you filthy, he calls you a slutty little whore who pretends to be a sweet little daddy's girl.

But his words only make you hotter and you lean back against the broad chest of your father's business partner and tell him you know he's jealous, because he wishes you were his daddy's girl.

Ransom chuckles, pretends you're wrong, pretends he could never want a spoiled heiress like you. you're too much of a princess. and you rise to the challenge, telling him you're not too much of a princess to balk at the prospect of getting into one of his glory holes.

Ransom grins, because you've fallen right into his trap. he puts you into a special glory hole—one that isn't open to the public. then Ransom calls all of your father's other business associates and together they ruin you while you're none the wiser about who exactly is fucking you.

but it's a special glory hole for another reason too. he tells you it's because there aren't any cameras, so you can enjoy yourself guilt-free. but really it's because there are tons of cameras, and on the men's side of the wall is a screen with a live feed from a camera placed directly above you. so Ransom and all your father's business parters watch you while they ruin you.

and at the end of the night, Ransom not only reveals all the men who used you—all the men you've known for years and never realized lusted after you—he also reveals the cameras and that they recorded every second of your defilement.

Ransom will use that footage to blackmail you into coming to Diesel Dolls every weekend and repeating the fun they had. and you'll pretend to be furious and betrayed, but a not-so-small part of you is excited about being turned into a free use fuck doll for your father's business partners.

but now i have a question: who are your father's other business partners?

🤭 i'm thinking one might be August Walker. and maybe Steve Kemp and Pete Brenner? 🤔 it can't be anyone i've already introduced into this universe unfortunately 🫤 that would be too hard to keep track of

[kaeyapilled]

What are some fics that you think are must reads for kaeya fans?

TEEHEE okay i think i have rec'd most of these before when i was asked for fic recs some time ago but its ok. here are the most kaeya fics ever in my opinion !

clouds in a lake by VelleRue

“Pot of butter,” Kaeya mumbles beneath his breath, eyes roving over the words. Alone, the words wouldn’t be very special. The shapes and sounds don’t scare him as much anymore, not like they did when he was new and wore shoes with torn soles and only knew how to say, My father told me he was going to buy grape juice.

Together though, they sound like the orange-yellow light of the oil lamp flickering in the corner. They sound like sticky fingers and bread rolls. Like a dinner table of three.

Cake and a pot of butter.

this one is so bittersweet and melancholic and i love all the headcanons in it and the way it's written oughhh it's a great read!! short but really good

stubborn roots by alexithymias

Kaeya’s plan to end his life is interrupted when Rosaria asks him to take care of a plant for a few days.

this one is heavier so definitely pay attention to the tags but, oh my god. this rewired my brain SO violently. i adore the concept and the characterization is really on point. it is so painful in all the good ways i like stories to be painful. i really recommend it!!

I'm gonna miss your love when it's gone by imaginarypasta

A selection of scenes from Kaeya's childhood related to his relationships with his fathers, and all they have led him to be.

im pretty sure ive rec'd this before but this is like, one of my favorite portrayals of kaeya and his bio father ever. its just so good. so delightfully sad. a breath of fresh air from the common headcanon that his father was an evil asshole. the kaeya & crepus bits are also really good and i like the author's hcs about khaenri'ah/the abyss SO much

not bad for a walk on death's doorstep by b_attery

Fear is a knife’s edge. Fear is a killer. Fear is how you know you’re still alive. Kaeya Alberich, not yet Ragnvindr, knew how to fear before he knew how to talk. As the heir to the regency of a dead kingdom, a spy-in-training to be sent to the surface world, as the last hope of Khaenri’ah – there were many things to fear. And later, as the Cavalry Captain of Mondstadt and a traitor no matter what he chose, Kaeya Alberich ex-Ragnvindr knew that as long as he lived, he would be afraid.

i have definitely rec'd this one before. but i just really love it!!! my comment on the bookmark says "literally the best kaeya character study i have ever read" and yeah that still holds up. shaped a lot of my kaeya hcs. i love this author

Hundred-Watt Light by pepperjuice

The first time the thought occurs to Kaeya he is eleven years old. Well, that’s not exactly true. It had been twisting in the back of his head for a long time, already. Formless and unspoken, an ever-present awareness, a whisper. But the first time it rings in his head, put in words, bright and shiny and just behind his eyes—

He is eleven. *** A story about ten years of contingency plans and holding your own hand. (Because how else are you supposed to live with a weight too big to hold all alone?)

OH I MUST HAVE REC'D THIS LIKE THREE TIMES BUT THIS IS REALLY A MUST READ. first of all heed the tags because it touches quite heavy topics! but this entire concept is SO interesting to be explored in kaeya's character and this author does it SO well..... this is one of my favorite fics, like, ever, lmao. absolute kaeya must read To Me

Lamellae by scripturient

A slowish movement in a discordant key, wherein Kaeya has bitten off rather more than he can chew and needs significant help; meanwhile, malady exposes buried memory and dread. A limited plot from a limited point of view which dabbles in themes of pain, trust, angst, conflict, and betrayal. Not quite a character study.

the writing style in this one is SO cool, i love it! non-linear narratives are my thing, i never get tired of it. and the whump in this is so good.. i like whump fanfiction, lol. the combination of characters in this is really fun as well, though everything is told from kaeya's very disoriented point of view. anyway, amazing exploration of his character!! the next work in this series, The thaw that comes in springtime (plus the next next work!), is also really good and i loved it, particularly the ragbros bit lol. another must read!

undertow / oversight by MercuryPoisoning

In which Kaeya gets by with a little help from his friends.

another one i feel ive rec'd before, but i love it. really good characterization!! especially his relationship with diluc!!! really good read. i love this author's stuff a lot lol. (bonus by the same author, and another one i consider a must-read even though it's still in progress and also way heavier than most of the previous recs: sleeping marble lion! i really like the writing style and the concept!!! pay attention to the tags but trust me it's a delightfully gut wrenching one<3)

whew. i think i have a few more i could have added here. i just went through my bookmarks lol i have read a decent amount of kaeya fanfiction. hope these are to your liking!!! fic rec'ing is one of my favorite activities

[mtchee]

Hi mtchee!

I just wanna say you write really well! I finished reading all your MHA soulmate series and I love them all so much. I can tell you love the characters a lot by how you write about them and you have a way with words when you craft each story. -that fits each of them perfectly. I’ve really enjoyed reading them, they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Mirio and Tenya are two of my top favorite characters, so I was delighted to see them a part of the series. And I even enjoyed other characters too a lot. Thank you for writing and sharing your series with us. The whole silent soulmate concept is intriguing and I’m glad to have read it. I am looking forward to reading the rest you have planned! :D

(don’t mind me I am suddenly ur biggest fan) (I wanna write like u ngl) (Mirio being peach tea is so him and dare I say cannon) (I love the MC of each story too sm)

What if I start crying rn 🥺🥺

Thank you so much!!! I genuinely try so hard to keep everyone in character as best I can, though ofc the occasionally OOC softness I let slip bc who doesn't love the idea of them melting for us 😌

I FREAKING LOVE MIRIO AND TENYA--I DEVOUR ALL OF THEIR CONTENT FR.

Tysm for reading!! Hearing what you think about what I write gets me feeling so giddy, it's always so motivating too! I've always loved the concept of unconditional love (in a way, a fated pull) where there is love even for one's flaws (in a healthy manner), but I've definitely got an itch for a slight chase; longing for someone not just because fate says so, but because you choose to.

Does that make sense?

Anyway, congrats, you got me going on a tangent into my innermost thoughts and dreams. Damn.

I often adapt my writing to other's styles which I like. I'm certainly not perfect, nor the best, but damn you really think so!?!?! Such high praise... >///<

Thank you for noticing the different MCs! I normally keep them pretty basic, not to be boring but just so it's easier for reader's to picture themselves I guess? But obviously, not everyone acts like I do, people think different things and feel different things in all kinds of situations. So I've been branching out to add in a bit of spice.

It also helps me improve my writing for characters that way too!

😌😌 Mirio would love peach tea. I think out of everything, it definitely suits him best as well, haha.

I'm definitely continuing the series! I've just been swamped with uni work recently, but I've still been wanting to keep my writing and creativity flowing, so for now I've just been pumping out some drabbles and imagines.

I've got a couple anonymous requests to get to as well! Those will be done soon once I've got the time.

Thank you so much for sending this in! I'm the type of person that'll think about this randomly even years later. So know that you've really touched my heart!!

Thank you!!! 🥰🥰🥰

(I've also read all your comments on my fics, teehee~ tysm for all the love <3)

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

something i see barely touched on or glossed over (especially in one shots) is the Baron's reaction to Feyd catching feelings or just generally loosing control over his nephew. Do you have plans for that in your fic? Which is wonderful by the way <3

Oh wow! Thank you for such a great ask! As we get more of Feyd's perspective we'll start to see more of the Baron's motivations and feelings on that. What I will say is that the Baron doesn't think Feyd's capable of actually loving anyone except the twisted devotion he has to him and to his people. He's certain he stamped that out when Feyd killed his mother, so he's unaware of the depths of Feyd's growing feelings for the Reader. He doesn't despise the Reader but that's mostly because he also doesn't see her as a threat. I don't want to spoil too much by going into his plans as far as she's concerned, but he doesn't care what Feyd does to her as long as he doesn't hurt her too badly for her to carry out the Bene Gesserit plans or risk war with her House and likes the idea of breaking her spirit. This is also the Baron; I don't think he believes in love. Feyd definitely has trouble understanding the concept, hasn't loved anyone in nearly twenty years, but in this it's not entirely beyond his grasp the way it is with the Baron. So right now, the Baron doesn't believe his nephew's relationship to his wife means anything tangible.

He's aware of the fact that despite the technology he has access to he's probably not going to live all that much longer and so while he wishes he could claim the Empire for himself, he's happy enough with the closest he's reasonably ever going to get: the voyeuristic pleasure of seeing Feyd get there during his lifetime, through whatever means necessary. He's not even particularly opposed to Feyd eventually being the one who kills him, as long as Feyd knows that everything he is is down to his uncle.

That said, I don't think that's entirely true, either. While it's twisted and he's undoubtedly a violent man, Feyd has his own sort of moral code and sense of honor that he didn't learn from the Baron or Rabban, and I think the kernel of it was passed down to him from his father (in the universe of my not-at-all canon wish fulfillment fanfic.)

I'm still in some ways figuring out how best to write it, and don't want to spoil too much, but hope this helps somewhat. I'm glad you like my little fic!

[dandylovesturtles]

Chello~! So I was reading your amazing fic “I May Be Invisible but I Still Look Good” and I was wondering, just outta curiosity. What inspired the concept for the fic in the first place? It’s a really cool concept- a spell that basically tears the soul out of the body and makes a person a “ghost” (sorry, Leo, I’m using the word ghost), but there are restrictions to what they can go through and stuff.

And another note- is there a specific reason you chose which one of Leo’s brothers broke which part of the spell? Like, Mikey broke sight, Raph broke sound, and Donnie broke touch. I see the parallel with Donnie, since he’s typically pretty adverse with touch, but I was wondering about Raph and Mikey.

I also wanted to say that your writing is beautiful and the fact that I can’t leave more than one kudos-es on Ao3 is cruel 😤.

Keep up the amazing work and have an absolutely wonderful amazing supercalifragilisticexpialidoshus day/night/afternoon/2am/endless white void :,]

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it! I've answered some of this but I'm too lazy to dig through my blog so I'll answer again! lol

I've written a fic similar to this before for another fandom (One Piece) over a decade ago - it's a trope I've always enjoyed haha. Though that fic was definitely more of a comedy (the character who got ghosted ended up possessing another character's body so they had to share), while this one leaned more heavily on angst. Although both OP and ROTTMNT are comedic canons so there's still a lot of jokes in both haha.

Anyway I thought of doing this with Leo because even though Donnie was (and still mostly is) my favorite character, Leo is the one I like putting through the spin cycle, because I think his character is a really interesting one to dig into. Leo has a lot of layers to him, and he has a hard time showing his real self to others and asking for help, and this sort of trope is great for forcing characters to do exactly that. Take away their ability to communicate and it makes them want to communicate more! lol

I ended up rambling so I'm putting a cut here.

I actually went around and around for a bit coming up with exactly what the restrictions are for how Leo can move. Like, I spent way too much time trying to decide if he can climb ladders and in the end I just avoided ever mentioning it (he probably can, like he can climb stairs, because otherwise getting out of certain parts of the sewer would be hard). But a lot of it came out of practicality, like I needed him to be able to ride in the tank properly so he could go home with them in the first chapter. But when I thought of the scene where he and Mikey get separated by Meat Sweats I just pushed that to the logical conclusion of "well he can ride in the car but he isn't actually constrained by the frame of the car besides the bottom" and that turned into car surfing.

Initially however I was going to have it so he was restricted to the immediate area around his body and so to leave the lair with Leo the brothers would have to Weekend at Bernie's him around. I eventually gave up on this idea because it caused too many logistical problems lol... Like I would have to establish that either his body can survive because it's just in a form of stasis (which I didn't like because it retroactively killed some of the first chapter's tension and also killed later tension) or they would have to cart around some kind of ventilator and that's a logistical nightmare. But I didn't want Leo to be confined to the lair because, boring. So that's where the idea of him being tied to them after they regained a sense came from, which has worked out great because I ended up using it for way more drama than I anticipated at the start haha.

Here's my writing tip no one asked for: when coming up with the rules for any kind of magic anything, narrative utility always trumps realism - as long as you have internal consistency it's fine.

AS FOR WHO GETS WHAT, well, I always planned for them to regain the senses in the order Mikey > Raph > Donnie (I feel like it just makes the most sense that Mikey is first and Donnie is last so Raph is naturally the middle), but originally they were going to get the senses in waves, like once Raph broke part of the spell both Mikey and Raph would get hearing, etc. And I already planned on it going sight > hearing > touch as well. But then I decided to split the senses up because I felt like it was more interesting that way. See the tip I posted above LOL

But as for why I picked sight > hearing > touch, well... I needed Mikey to see him first for narrative utility but also since Mikey is the one who is best at emotions, I liked having him get sight, because that way Leo can't really hide from him, and so Mikey can get a sense of how Leo is dealing with everything through this ordeal. Like Leo can hide his emotions from Raph by being quiet or from Donnie by not touching him but he can't escape Mikey. The other two obviously know Leo is not having a good time, but Mikey is the one who has the fullest picture of how badly this is affecting him, and Mikey is also the best at communicating that to the others and helping Leo through it just by being there. That's why you get a lot of Mikey literally guiding the others to him, too - he's good at helping that way!

As for Raph, I made a joke at the time that I wanted to force the dumb-dumbs to actually use their words lol. Which is a lot of the motivation! Of course, Raph and Leo are at a better place than they were pre-movie anyway, but I still wanted to put them in a place where they have to talk because they literally don't have any other options. Also, I really love the co-leaders vibe, or at least Raph being his right hand man, and I wanted the two of them to be able to talk strategy, which was of course easiest if they could actually, ya know, talk. Leo may be leader but he still looks up to Raph and turns to him for advice, or as a sounding board to work out what he's thinking through, so it's really beneficial for him to be able to talk to Raph.

And yes finally, Donnie is touch averse so he gets touch and we all laugh. LAUGH. But also Donnie would be most frustrated by not having a more direct way to communicate with Leo, but also the most determined to actually make it work. Also this way he is given a problem to fix. Leo is touch-starved and it's not good for him to be like this for too long, because he's losing his grip on reality. Donnie can fix that problem by touching him, and so he will, because Donnie fixes problems. Even if it requires giving his dumb-dumb twin shell scratches (he doesn't mind) (he won't admit it though).

Also the ouija board jokes are very funny. If it works for zozo why can't it work for Leo!

Sorry for all the rambles aaaaa thanks for the ask!

[snowandwolves]

lengthy ask anon here - i am currently freezing bc holy shit what is going on in the states rn negative degree weather sucks. also! i had to change my alarm and there was a windchime option which made me cackle lol

i hope this week is less stressful! and yes, therapy is the answer to everything lol well that, and the beautiful images you put in our heads bc the image of bea planning a surprise birthday party (and being huffy at her imperfect cake that ava thinks is perfect) my heartttt

speaking of cold - just how cold does it get in that town? curious if you came across that in your research

i love the thought you put in to choosing patatas bravas! does bea have a favorite food? also does she have a favorite food amongst ava's repertoire?

i was rereading and in chap 3, ava asks bea if she's ever been arrested (i still love the fact that she got into a bar brawl lol) but has ava ever been arrested??

also in chap 5 (storm scene, my beloved!), bea asks ava what she's afraid of (and hard agree, cockroaches - the flying ones esp - are fucked up) but what's bea afraid of?

do you have a favorite pun from the lighthouse au?

i'm gonna go make hot chocolate, too cold for iced hot chocolate but i will pretend i'm somewhere warm enough to have that. sending you good vibes and uneventful days!

me [living in a tropical country]: negative degree weather 🥺

hi lengthy ask anon, i have no idea how long it’s been 💀 lost all concept of time the moment 2024 decided to press fast forward akdbskd but i’m alive and still happy to answer questions!

1. negative 20s if i remember correctly! i had no idea how to write that kind of weather so i set it in… spring 😂 which is when i also started writing it. had to bookmark the weather of the location lmao

2. i tried to pinpoint a favorite food for bea, but i made myself sad doing it skdbs cos i was trying to go back to her childhood and then went “wouldn’t the food be tasteless if she’s having meals alone or with a family like that?” 😭 why am i like this 😭 but as for ava’s menu, i’d say she’s partial to anything they can make together because,,, soft gay lmao so nothing too complicated bec bea in the kitchen is a disaster waiting to happen. omelettes? bacon and waffles? literally anything even a 7-year-old can help with 💀

3. FOR STREAKING DEFINITELY 😭 dunno why but it’s the first thing that popped in my head

4. skin-deep level? worms probably. just because they wriggle and because she absolutely hates accidentally touching them 💀 soul-deep level? rejection. too many times from too many people just sows that in you ajdhsjd also storm scene, also my beloved, i waited so long to write that [sigh]

5. i was gonna say “legen-dairy” before realizing that’s a whole other fic (i’m fine obviously) but for lighthouse au, i think “it shore is bea-utiful” just because it was an all-in-one 😂

[lifts my mug of lukewarm coffee bec it’s too hot to drink boiling liquid] cheers lengthy ask anon. i hope the hot chocolate was warm and sweet 🥹 and i hope you’ve been having a good month!!!

[thevioletcaptain]

"The beach is buzzing with scantily-clad summer travelers, the sand golden-warm as the Gulf of Mexico stretches out forever under a bright blue sky, but it could be storming for all Dean knows. There could be an escaped rhinoceros sprinting across the sand. He wouldn't notice, because every last fraction of his focus is trained on the middle-aged former angel sprawled out on a threadbare beach towel a couple dozen feet away." The phrasing of this makes me smile every time I think of it - and Cas in his pink banana shorts is such an image! One of my favourite books is Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy and there's something in your choice of words here that really reminds me of Douglas Adams. I just love Toes in the Sand, it's one of my favourites fics! I re read it often, especially when I randomly think of this rhinoceros-middle-aged-former-angel bit. I also love your note in that fic about how you weren't planning for Dean to propose but he had other ideas! I love how writing is often something that flows through you onto the page and you just let have to let it go where it goes. I also absolutely adore Qualia. I held out for a while with Destiel AUs because there were so many canonverse fics I could be as picky as I wanted! But this was one of the first AUs I looked at and thought - I actually REALLY want to read this. I'm so glad I did, and now it's another one of my permanent bookmarked faves. I know it might be a wacky concept for some but the way you capture the yearning in that story - I feel it in my heart every time! I can feel my heart squeezing just thinking about it as I'm writing this!! Anyway, just wanted to tell you I appreciate you and I've been really sorry to read of all your personal struggles. Whether you never write a word again or feel inspired for many years to come, I just wanted to say what a positive impact your writing has had in my life, and say thank you for all the incredible creativity that you share with us ♥️♥️♥️

Anon, this is the kindest message 🥹

Cas sunbathing in his pink banana boardshorts is one of those moments that I've attempted to draw several times, but my artistic skills are not quite where I'd like them to be, and I've never been able to get the image to look quite right. Hopefully you'll see it if I ever manage to make it work well enough to post it 😅

Also, I get you holding out on reading AU fics for a while! I did the same when I first got into the fandom -- the canon universe is already such a vast sandbox that I wanted to hang out there for as long as possible. I still prefer to read and write canonverse most of the time for that reason, though I've defintely branched out a lot more over the past several years.

I'm so glad you've enjoyed my writing, and I'm really touched by this entire message. So thank YOU for sending it. And for reading. I'll definitely be posting more ❤️

[protect-daniel-james]

Ao3 wrapped ask game! 18, 27, 29 x

Thank you!!

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Already answered, so just to make it short - the Redknapps, since the Lampardverse is all about the Lampard(s) obsession with the Redknapp(s), and ofc that makes the Redknapp(s) hard to read/write/understand, since the only opportunity to see him/them is through the Lampardian gaze. Unreliable narrator, unreliable storytelling, and all that. Currently, I'm writing a Poch/Ange fic and I'm having a trouble to keep Ange's character in the "believable" spot, without making him a Zorba the Greek reincarnation lmao.

(tho I do want to see him teach Poch The Dance)

27. What do you listen to when writing?

That heavily depends on the story! So for example for "thematic" stories - like Txoria txori - I will listen to something that I imagine the characters listening to (so, in this case, Beti Mugan, Hertzainak, Oskorri...), or something that could accompany the scene if the fic was a movie.

Sometimes I will connect a song with characters for seemingly no reason whatsoever lmao. So for example to write emotional parts of Howe/Tindall fics, I will listen to Weather with you and The sun always shines on TV. I just imagine a movie with them as characters - two guys who weren't close in the playing days, but now are "made" to work together in very shitty circumstances, and they have to do everything on their own (cut the grass, repair stuff around the stadium, plan the trainings, scout the players...), and I just imagine them working their asses off, drinking bad strong coffee, driving for hours in a car together, eating awful egg sandwiches at gas stations, getting soaking wet outside, and growing closer and closer... All to the sound of very 1980s music (well, Eddie is an a-ha fan, so that could work).

But I think I am most productive when I listen to Binaural beats on Spotify, or some vaporwave/mall music with no lyrics, because then I can just concentrate fully on the scenes and sentences.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I am proud of the ending of Just a step from Heaven, hehe. I knew I wanted to end it on a sort of ... cliffhanger? Or, I just wanted the readers to follow Franko's messy thoughts the whole time, thinking "well, obviously he's not right in the head, he's imagining all this and giving it significance but he's unreliable" - and in the end, to realize that maybe he's not just wishing and dreaming and fantasizing, maybe Jamie ... knows. Or wants.

I'll put the rest under a read more cut since it's nsfw-ish and ... unai-esque.

"It was warm, he could feel it through the thin paper tissue, and he shivered as he focused on the two contrasting sensations, the warmth in his hand, and the cold, lifeless weight pressing against his face and he moaned, realizing that this was what turned him on so much, the contrast of the life and the lifeless, his body with its fluids and heartbeat and breath, against the firm and hard surface that couldn’t produce anything if the kind, his short, labored breathing against the definitive and firm shape of an item. He loved facts that couldn’t be argued with, he loved hard lines that couldn’t be changed, he loved concepts that couldn’t be touched at all – and the trophy combined all of it; his, virtuous, non-judgemental. He believed that on some level, the trophy could understand him."

As y'all might have noticed, I'm obsessed with objectum Unai. It's deffinitely more difficult than writing a regular smut I'd say? But it just makes a great opportunity to explore all the sensations that... a person can experience alone? just with their thoughts?

And of course all the stuff about Villa and Villa Park, and stadiums overall. Tbh, I'll never look at stadiums the same. And I might (?) get to go to Birmingham next year? (not just because of this; I have a friend studying in Coventry, but maybe on the way there ... ?)

He needed it to get a sense of any club he's ever been to, to be able to feel what the supporters felt, to walk into a stadium and breathe the club in, see the walls of the stadium, and not think of them as walls of a stadium covered in advertising boards, but to consider them part of the club's identity. Not think of the fastest way to make it past the walls, but think of the generations that have - or will have - seen them and walked along them in the rhythm of collective choreographies of congregation, interaction, rest, and relaxation, passing them in the secular rituals and pilgrimages in the quest of being there, at the stadium, where the club existed in its purest form, not just as a profitable cash-cow in the marketing team's wet dreams. The club wasn't an idea or a brand roaming the globe there; it was real, made of bricks and turf and wood and plastic seats in its colors, and it was tangible, present, smelling of fresh grass and soil and omelette bocadillos and cheap canned beer that was sold nowhere else but the stadiums, but also of the strong gassy smell of petrol that was used for travels to these places of worship. Unai has seen his fair share of stadiums during his playing and managing career, and even the smallest, most insignificant stadium in the Spanish third division left him with a strong sense of place - it was a place like nowhere else, it was unique, it was special, and he still remembered clearly all the travels, the excitement, the rushed parking of the car he and Juan Carlos shared for such travels to any available stadium in their proximity, the quick beer and an oily sausage on a paper tray - all these memories were like an appetizer, an introduction, the necessary and beloved part of the ritual, that had to be done because otherwise, the experience wouldn't be complete. Even when he used to watch fourth division bound clubs where the tactics consisted of instructions in the sense of 'try to score a goal and stop them from scoring one', he was mesmerized. When the game wasn't good or worthy of following, there was still so much to focus on, to watch, to take in; the smell of the pitch, the taste of the half-time beer, the humming sound of the crowd, and the wet smell of the pitch if it rained in the morning, the first raindrops splashing against the concrete steps of the stands.  There was nothing quite like it. It was always familiar, but never the same, there was always a reason to go again, to move on, to go to another nearby stadium. It was the loveliest thing there was.

I mean, all of this is pretty much a "normal" thing that people who do groundhopping and similar stuff do - it's just that Unai feels more strongly about it than a regular person.

When he walked onto the pitch for the first time, he knew he made the right choice. This was it. He got the right kind of kick, inhaled the air, and smelled football, football, football, football in everything, in every single color and shape, and smell and taste around the stadium. He saw the year 1874 displayed in golden numerals above the pompous staircase leading to the stadium, and he felt it, the breath of the passing decades, of the hundreds of thousands of fans who had to pass through the stairs and turnstiles. Villa. It felt like a piece of home away from home. The softness of the double "l" was familiar, so often harbored in his mouth that it felt like a natural fit. Aston was foreign, yes, but Villa always brought him home. The ending of the word, it wasn't lost in the air like Paris Saint-Germain or hidden under the tongue like in the name Arsenal  - Villa was a two-syllable whisper ending on a high, having a sense of expectation - Vil-la, Vil-la, there was hopefulness in the suffix; where Arsen-al was closed inwards, Vil-la curled outwards, reaching out to the new heights. He rolled the syllables around in his mouth and could taste them - in a way that no other club has ever made itself known to him.

God, I could put the whole fic over here - I said I am the most proud of it, and I wasn't lying ♥ (and I know you read the fic so it's probably pointless telling you hehe)

[woodswolf]

14 and 23 fic asks!

end of year fic asks

14. a fic you didn't expect to write

UM. definitely my current wip that i've been working on since like the last week of august or something. 37k and counting and it's still only about half done. like okay! literally the longest fic i've written since high school and everything of comparable length i've written is shit!

23. fics you wanted to write but didn't

uhhhhhh do the multiple planned sequels to my current wip that i cannot physically justify writing before i finish it count

otherwise there's like 4 other things, in order of likelihood that i'd actually work on them:

another pikmin fic entirely unrelated to my current wip. i actually have some of this written but i haven't touched it in like 2 months for no particular reason. basic premise started out as "Hm what if there were long-term consequences to The Events of p4" and then turned into midsommar lmao.

Manhattan, a tribute one- or two-shot to one of my favorite fic series of all time, The Station Sequence (Wells Street Station / The Ellipse / Promenade / Narodnaya) by Marquis Carabas. Fucking INCREDIBLE takes on Coraline and the kind of trauma that would naturally arise from her circumstances, but also an excellent example of She Who Fights Monsters and the impact that that has on herself and other people. I have a lot of very specific headcanons regarding parts of this series that I would have wanted to turn into a ten-year-anniversary tribute or whatever but unfortunately I didn't think of that until both the "series start" and "series end" anniversaries had long passed. But I'm absolutely going to write this anyway at some point - there are just too many specific ideas and some of them are already partially written.

the ninjago AU longfic that i've been planning... definitely since i finished crystallized, possibly since the s15 finale (but i don't think so, i remember the early concept was much more "this is an AU of crystallized" than "this is an AU of ninjago in general" so it was probably when i finished crystallized). the concept has Evolved a lot since then, but the basic premise is that sea!nya and a weird version of zane that i invented whole-cloth out of implications... they don't really "team up" as much as "orbit around each other for a billion years" in a way. julien is heavily involved, because you KNOW i can't resist that shit, and so are echo and harumi. i've already done a lot of Figuring Out with this universe or whatever but it'd take a Lot More and frankly DLD has much higher priority.

a few miscellaneous sciadv fics that i wrote a little bit of but which unfortunately did not go anywhere, and then amadeus wasn't nearly as important in A;C as i was hoping she'd be RIP. these are probably dead unfortunately the motivation is basically gone. ironically i might circle back to writing something for O;9 at some point instead - going in i thought it'd be horrible from what little i knew about it (unfinished VN/light novels and Breasting Boobily: The Anime), but actually i watched the anime back in september. aside from the pacing in the first few episodes feeling like i got infected with radical-6 and then started watching a normal show, it was LITERALLY fantastic and i am still fucking thinking about it. but! no plot bunny, fic needs a plot bunny. maybe something would come to me on a rewatch though.

thanks for the ask! :D

[torawro]

[ Hey Sosa! I haven't checked on you in a while, so I just wanna see how you're doing ^^ ]

[ I also just read that little drabble you wrote for byakuya and I - you write him so good 😭. If i can add to that, I think he would also make up for the argument by taking you out on a cute little date. One that's silent and peaceful. In modern, I like to think it would be the top of his lavish penthouse (bc rich noble man yes). In canon, I think a walk and picnic in the estate's garden would be something he'd do (i actually have this as a self-ship hc since i just got into self-shipping aksksndns) ]

HELLOOOO GREY! i am so so sorry that i'm answering so late i appreciate you checking on me <3 i'm doing okay for the most part how are you !!

i am so glad you enjoyed that little drabble i wrote ! i very well could written more and sprinkled some plot in it but i thought that would be overkill so i cut it short LMFAOOOOO but trust me a longer piece about rich bf/ fiance byakuya will be dropping courtesy of mrs. kuchiki herself 🫡 also i COMPLETELY AGREE WITH UR THOUGHTS !!!! in addition to that long talk you had and a kiss to make up ( ahh y'all would probably have some hot make up sex afterwards because he hardly touched you for what feels like TOO long for him so baby boy is all pent up 🥺) he is the type to take you out on a simple but beautifully planned date because he is aching to treat you and take you out (although he is mr. stoic so his face, seldom his voice, will ever show it). i agree with ur concepts for both modern au and canon !! in canon he'd def plan a 'stay at home' date, and because his mansion + estate is humongous there's probably some hidden part of the land he owns that you haven't seen yet and he has his servants ( he helps too just so he can say with his full chest that he helped set it up; his house staff are utterly shocked with the idea ) set up a quaint picnic with all of your favorite foods, teas and/or sake, and desserts and it'll be at night, when the moon has risen high in the sky and illuminates your supple skin, along with the fireflies that float around in the air. he doesn't think you can look more beautiful but everyday, especially now you prove him wrong <3 and he gets even more angry with himself for being so stubborn, dense and materialistic because he absolutely missed gazing upon you like this. let me stop myself here because i'ma end up writing a whole fic in this ask box LMAOOOOOOOOOO

as for modern au, i definitely feel as tho 'kuya has personal chefs that come in often to cook food for him butttt to make it more authentic, because he just learned his lesson about using his privilege and material wealth to woo you, he might cook everything himself and serve it to you in his fancy penthouse. i'm hc'ing that 'kuya can for sure cook because he had to cook for himself and his sister rukia when they were younger and doing so while he was in college, but now that he's rich and whatever he thinks 'my time can be used more efficiently for more pressing matters.' for you though? he would do anything for you ( a recurring theme w my man here) . so yes basically he wines and dines tf outta you and the ambiance before, during and after is soooo romantic it makes you feel like a little girl with a crush ! another option for a date he might do in modern au would be to take you out to restaurant and then afterwards, take a walk out on boardwalk near a beach-- or out on the sand beaches themselves, hold hands w you and just talk and be in each other's company <3

[iamindifferenttolamp]

Jesus.

Okay hear me out:

When I was a kid, sometime in elementary school - I must've been at least 7 or 8 I think - I was in "vacation bible school" that was literally at some random neighbor's house.

That neighbor had a son who played the drums and I thought that was really cool.

Fifth grade was when we got to choose if we wanted to be in band class and if so which instrument to play. We only had four options though: flute, clarinet, trumpet, or trombone. We couldn't choose anything else - including percussion - until sixth grade. So I chose clarinet because it was the easiest of the four, fully intending to switch to percussion the next year.

Except I never actually voiced this plan and my parents bought a clarinet outright instead of renting it through the school the way most other kids did.

This was 2009, so the recession had just hit and money was on all adults' minds, even if my parents denied it, and therefore those worries seeped down to me (plus my parents' general frugality) and so I felt like it would be a terrible waste of money to switch from the clarinet I now owned to percussion and I stuck with it.

The middle school held a band summer camp every year. I don't think it was mandatory, maybe it was, but it was fun enough that I went regardless. I sat down randomly with the rest of the rising sixth grade clarinets, coming in from a few different elementary schools. The director had us all introduce ourselves and I happened to be sitting between two girls named Rach(a)el and so I made an offhand joke about it. (Since I wasn't playing the drums I clearly hadn't become cool.)

One of the Rach(a)els actually laughed at my joke and we became best friends. At this point in the story, I should mention that I basically never had any friends at school before this point. (Sorry Kellie, but also you spent several years at Catholic school.) So I really wanted to keep this one. So as middle school progresses, she shows me that she likes to write stories for fun. I, math-minded and loathing the lack of definite answers a writing prompt implies, found this to be a novel concept. But if Rachael liked writing, then it must be fun and I should try it too so that we have yet another shared interest (and she stays my friend).

This was also about the time that my parents got the internet at home, which meant writing didn't have to be the tedious process of scribbling in a notebook. It could instead be the tedious process of hunt-and-pecking on a keyboard - and, most importantly, posted publicly to bring fame and fortune or whatever.

And this is what led me to Protagonize, a now-defunct website that was built around a really cool choose-your-own-adventure-esque branching story concept (although you could create a standard linear story by just only adding one option to proceed) and that detail actually isn't relevant to the story at hand.

I hated writing, but the coolness of Protagonize drew me in and I used it (not a lot but I was there) for at least three years. In this time, I had perhaps my first encounter with fanfiction. Well, besides Rachael's Aquamarine fanfic in her notebook. I vaguely remember a fic about the Marvel villain Kingpin, but the other fic I remember running into (yes it was literally just two don't worry about it) was a self-insert Doctor Who fic. I think it was only the first page/chapter, too, but between the fun that the characters seemed to be having and the author's enthusiasm for the series, this "Doctor Who" thing stuck in my brain.

Move forward a couple years to high school. I'm still playing clarinet in band, I'm actually friends with Kellie now, and I have an ipod touch and a Facebook account. (And undiagnosed adhd.) And Facebook is filled with meme pages, where when you click on a shared meme, you can then scroll through all of the images that page has posted. (This is where the adhd comes in.)

Well two things keep coming up in my - what's a word for doomscrolling when it has nothing to do with the state of the world, it just makes you feel bad because you feel like you can't stop and know you should be doing something else because you don't know what adhd is yet? - perusal of these memes: 1. A gosh darn lot of them came from Tumblr, and 2. Doctor Who looked like a lot of fun (and David Tennant hot).

"But Lamp," you cry, "if you were seeing these things shared on Facebook, then this doesn't actually connect to Jesus! The whole story could start here instead!"

Aha! Good catch, reader - but there are two things I haven't told you yet. One is that Rachael moved away after seventh grade. I tried to keep in touch with her by email, but eventually she told me that she really only communicates by Facebook anymore. This is what led to me creating my secret-because-parents-said-I-couldn't Facebook account in the first place. And secondly, I mentioned that I still played clarinet in band. This is how I met my second ever best friend, who also played clarinet and who got into all of superwholock.

So as you see, reader, this still ties back to the clarinet which was chosen because it was easiest because the real goal was drums because Chip played the drums and when I met Chip at VBS he seemed so cool to three-years-younger me. It still all comes back to Jesus.

So I start watching Doctor Who. I'm all caught up by fall of 2013 and decide to take the plunge into Tumblr so I can be on the cutting edge of the memes and gifs and takes and analyses and fanarts and all that good fandom stuff for the 50th anniversary episode.

Well, Tumblr isn't just full of fandoms making memes. It's also full of gay people. And one of my classmates was both into similar fandoms and a hardcore feminist (shout-out to Lauren even though she's not on Tumblr anymore). So I suddenly found myself being confronted with a lot of ideas about gender and its place in the world, including in interpersonal relationships, in a space that was mostly fun and very easy to lurk in, coming from friends I respected and admired.

It may sound like a very 2014 tumblrina take but honestly a lot of my unlearning my conservative upbringing and realizing my own repressed queerness is thanks to Tumblr.

And in conclusion, if it weren't for Jesus I wouldn't be queer today.

"why are you lgbt wrong answers only " to be quite honest the girls always made me be the dog when we played house

[enderwomansmp]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣- "𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖-𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣"

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒚 2- 𝑭𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

(cc!Dream Team)

A/N: Day 2 huh,,,, I know, I'm ridiculously behind ;; ,,, but I've decided, so as to not push myself too much, I'm going to be a lot more relaxed with my timings/schedule for kinktober. However, this does mean it may actually take months, perhaps, to finish all the prompts,,,, so I'm extremely sorry! Anyway, this fic was a bit of a challenge to write and tbh, writer's block struck me during the writing of it, so it's not my best work, but I tried,,, I hope it turned out okay? It's perhaps a bit "out-there" and definitely won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's pure, kinky sin >:)

I have to say, though, the concept is highkey hot imo lmao,,, and I think you'll like it if you enjoy a lot of degradation and fleshlight content! So please enjoy!!

Genre/Warnings/Notes: 18+ smut, nsfw, afab reader, foursome dynamic/poly, dom!dteam and sub!reader, heavy fleshlight use, no skin-to-skin penetration, penetration using toy(s), heavy mention of punishment and rules, heavy degradation, slight spanking, choking, hair pulling, orgasm denial (ambiguous ending)

"Well, what do we have here?"

Oh no.

Those were the only words that ran through your mind as you entered a sort of fight-or-flight mode, frozen in place on the large bed, the sheets of which you were currently gripping ardently, entangled in desperate, coiling arches alike a snake would when mating- so vulnerable and weak. Your breathing hitched and pulse raced up to a rapid pace, so much so that you felt it in your fingertips, of which you had hurriedly removed from your oh-so-obviously dripping wet core.

They were home; you'd been caught. Caught breaking a rule, no less.

"Well, are you gonna answer me, slut? Or are you too pathetic to even manage to speak?" Dream's voice hissed out as he, alongside Sapnap and George, strode into the room, standing at the foot of your bed and towering above your naked form in such a manner and with such an expression that it was nothing short of menacing.

Where you tried to respond with a weak apology, your lips simply parted with a whimper instead, eyes darting across the room, unable to meet those of the three men. In an effort to negate this, Sapnap waltzed over to the side of your bed in an effort to get closer to your form, your body trembling with anticipation and nerves as he gripped your jaw harshly to point your eyesight back towards the two remaining males at the foot of your bed, a smirk present on each of their lips.

"C'mon, answer us. You already broke a rule, don't want things to get worse for you now, do we?" Sapnap breathed by your ear, leaning down to your face as he squatted by your bedside, grasping your wrists in his other, free hand to maneuver them away from where they were struggling to hide your body and gain some modesty. Your whole body shivered at the feeling of his breath by your neck.

"Couldn't even wait half an hour for us to get back from the store, could you? Had to touch yourself like a slut even when you know you're not supposed to, hmm?" chided George, his tone teasing and low in a rather successful effort to make you squirm against Sapnap's hold.

Suddenly all touch from your body was gone as Sapnap stood tall once more, making his way over to the two other males, all of them sharing a specific expression, of which seemed to contain a concoction of emotions, from smugness to hunger to cunning. As much as part of you wanted to shrink and hide away from their gaze and scrutiny, you found yourself hungering ever-more for them as they slyly whispered what you could only assume were plans of punishment to each other and traded looks of desire and unspoken agreements, still awaiting your response to all of their aforementioned questions and teasing. Mustering up just enough courage, you let your quivering lips fall open, apologising in an airy voice,

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I-I just wanted all of you to touch me a-and fuck me, please! I'm sorry!"

At first, however, the only verbal response you received was a slight tsk from Sapnap and a huff of satisfaction disguised as distaste from George. Nonetheless, Dream soon followed suit, unable to hold back from teasing and pushing you further as you squirmed slightly under their gaze, as though you were trapped beneath the weight and gravity of your actions and their attention.

"Hmm, I don't know. You broke such an easy rule, Y/N. If you can't even be good and patient for us, then do you even deserve our cocks?" Dream teased, the blonde male chuckling when you whined in response.

From the corner of your eye, you could see George move towards the bedside table, pulling open a drawer with ease, all the while Dream continued, his tone much more stern and demanding than his prior teasing,

"Get on your hands and knees for us, slut. Rule-breakers deserve punishment"

A large proportion of your mind, despite the gravity of your current predicament, was half-tempted to whine and beg and kick up a fuss in an effort to gain sympathy (after all, all you desired were their big hard cocks inside you, and you wanted it now), however, upon meeting Dream's impatient gaze once more, your entire body tensed in instinctual, reactionary fear. Perhaps it was best not to push their buttons further you reluctantly decided as you shuffled weakly across the bed to bend over on your hands and knees, back arched as best you could so that your ass and pussy was on full display to Dream, Sapnap and George, of whom had moved back to stand with the duo, all 3 now holding objects you could not quite make out from your positioning. The prospect was daunting, at best; usually, that bedside table and its contents only meant vibrator-induced orgasmic torture for the next 3 hours at least. Thus, when a rough hand, of which you recognised quickly belonged to Dream, met your ass with a harsh slap, your whole body jolted with a whimper of shock and delicious pain. In an effort to view the scene unfolding behind you, your neck craned around to glimpse at Dream, fisting his hard-on with one hand and caressing your ass with the other, as well as at both Sapnap and George, of whom were equally tugging rather desperately at their own cocks as they shuffled towards either side of the bed by your head, the bed dipping ever so slightly where the toys were placed down nearby each of the tall males. That was, until your neck was rather unceremoniously grasped at, your head soon shoved into the pillow below it, a husky voice you recognised to be Sapnap's grunting with the effort of forcing your head downwards as his fingertips teasingly squeezed at your throat causing your head to spin.

"Did we say you could look? You're so useless, breaking rules, trying to see what toys we have," the stubble-clad male groaned out as he viewed your already-disheveled form.

All you could manage in response was a wheeze shortly followed by a sharp moan as another smack was firmly planted onto your ass by thinner fingers, of which belonged to George, made evident by his resounding, satisfied groan. Repeating the action, your entire body writhed under the pain, only made more pleasurable but prominent due to Sapnap's hold on your neck and George's groaned out words as he grunted out quips of his own,

"Look at you- dripping wet and moaning and we've barely even touched you. Such a naughty slut."

Sure enough, within a few more torturously harsh spanks, your ass was sore and red and your slick was dripping down your thighs in an embarrassing flood of arousal and fluid, George and Dream's hands imprinted onto you whilst Sapnap's harsh grip at your neck was sure to bruise the tender skin there, all of which caused your body to respond in jolts of shock followed by muffled pleas and whines. However, soon you felt all touch retreat, your neck now free to inhale fully, lungs and heartbeat working overtime from your adrenaline, body twitching at the loss of contact and caresses. Nevertheless, touch soon returned as quickly as it had retreated as both George and Sapnap shuffled closer towards you and Dream instead knelt one knee on the foot of the bed, his head dipping down towards your thighs as he licked a large, flattened-out tongue along your thighs where your juices has slipped down. A long stripe across your entire pussy had you jerking your head up from its place on the pillow in shock and pleasure as Dream mumbled something about how good you tasted, irrespective of your status as an impatient whore. The whole ordeal made your head spin and heart soar with desire and anticipation.

Nonetheless, once again, all touch to your body changed completely as Dream's head retreated from in between your legs, a slight yet desperate whine falling from your lips at the loss of attention as your eyes rise from the bed to shoot pleading looks towards both Sapnap and Goerge, of whom were on either side of you, stroking their cocks and groaning. From your lower positioning, the two males almost appeared as god-like, towering figures with red-faced expressions, face contorted in pleasure and cocks flushed and and the tips an angry red, seemingly desperate for your touch. However, as you contemplated reaching up to grab both in your hands, your body was soon tugged harshly backwards towards Dream somewhat, his strong hands gripping at your waist, seemingly trying to steady you as a blunt pressure pushed at your pussy. The, suddenly, a wide and unfamiliar shape pushed straight inside your pussy, its form distinctly wide and material slightly cold. Instantaneously, your mind could recognise what was happening- and the whole scenario made you not only moan out in intense and unexpected pleasure but also whine in pathetic frustration and pure desperation.

Dream was going to fuck you with a fleshlight.

With a hoarse and strained voice, pleasure evidently overwhelming and thus overriding the capacity to speak clearly, Dream hissed and grunted out at your whimpering and frustrated form as he bottomed out into the toy,

"F-fuck, this thing feels great. It could've- fuck- been you, but you were t-too impatient. Don't deserve our cocks- n-not even to touch them."

Immediately, the green-eyed male set a fast pace, his hips ramming into the toy inside your pussy, every thrust inadvertently fucking you with the fleshlight itself whilst Dream simply used you as a vessel of warmth and stability, the fleshlight the main generation of his pleasure as he simply gripped onto your hips with such unadulterated force, your body a mere anchor to drive his cock further into the toy with. Yet, between the fast pace of Dream's hungry and selfish thrusting, combined with the sheer girth and length of the toy inside your wet insides, pleasure quickly began to brew in you, your back arching and mouth hanging open in an 'o' shape as moans flew from your voice, airy and desperate. Just as your arms prepared to give in and allow your body to be fully used, the need to slump into the mattress fully once more overwhelmingly strong, you suddenly felt a strong hand grip your jaw, lithe fingers squashing your face in such a way it was so obviously objectifying and borderline disrespectful whilst equally making you tighten around the toy lodged inside your pussy. You felt like a toy, made to be used. And you loved it.

"C'mon, d-don't forget about us, dumb whore,"

George groaned out, words bold and harsh and tone darker than usual, ultimately causing you to tremble beneath the three men.

Looking up towards George to your left and Sapnap to your right, your half-lidded and teary eyes witnessed a delicious sight; from your position, head held up by George’s fingers as he lightly gripped your jaw, you could see both George and Sapnap fucking into their own fleshlights, Sapnap's head thrown back slightly and jaw clenched in what could only be assumed to be restraint whilst George gazed down at you with stern eyes. Despite such a wonderfully sinful show, George slowed his pace on his cock, signalling for your weak arms to reach up and pleasure both him and Sapnap. Meekly, you reach up both of your arms towards the fleshlights of the two males in front of you, supported by Dream behind you who, in order to ensure you stay upright and therefore ensuring he can still fuck into the toy inside you, now gripped at your hair, stabilising you to his chest as he fucked the toy deeper into you. Your entire body shook weakly, the pressure and tight pull of your hair from your skull creating such a wonderful pain, of which heightened the waves of euphoria rippling through you with each of Dream's thrusts and groans behind you, his hot breath now by your ear as he watched you move to touch George and Sapnap. Your hands gripped onto both fleshlights either side of you, the rocking of your hips already aiding movement on the two males' dicks and thus causing both Sapnap and George to groan out your name in pleasure. However, as much as you desired to please both of them with the toys, you equally wanted to simply touch their dicks more than anything in the universe- you merely wanted to touch them.

Tugging both your arms towards yourself with delierately harsh movement, you attempted to pull the fleshlights off the two dicks in front of you, mind and body ultimately desperate to finally get an oppurtunity to please both George and Sapnap directly. However, immediately your desperate plans were dashed as Dream witnessed your movements in spite of the thrown back heads and averted gazes of the other two men, thrusting into the toy inside you with a particularly pronounced and forceful movement of his hips, of which thrust your whole body forwards more so than before and thus hindering your retraction of the fleshlights around the two cocks in front of you, all in spite of Dream's firm hold on your hair and hips.

"D-don't you even dare- fuck- to try a-and touch th-them. You're just- shit- a naughty slut, d-don't deserve to touch u-us," Dream hissed into your ear, hand pulling harshly onto your hair in a makeshift ponytail, a clear warning that if you disobeyed once more there would be far more severe consequences.

In an effort to continually, from this point, curb your disobedience and pathetic desperation for touch, Dream mercilessly pounded into the toy still lodged inside your tight, wet hole, each thrust so forceful, carnal and mind-blurringly euphoric your body was forced to simply jerk both Sapnap and George off with the fleshlight toys, your thighs shaking and body rocking forwards with such movements. The green-eyed male's thrusts were so forceful and deep not only could you feel the toy pushing against your cervix in such a delicious chase of pleasure, but you were also repeatedly thrust further forwards towards Sapnap and George, of whom were now rocking their hips forward into your hands and fleshlights you held in an equally animalistic rhythm as that of Dream's. In such a moment, you felt so helpless, as though you were merely a toy to be used; a vessel for others' pleasure. The thought had your mind whirring, eyes rolling back and pussy tightening. The thought had you rapidly approaching your pleasure's climax. Equally, as the pace of all three men seemed to grow increasingly untamed and uneven and their voices rose in volume, it became evident they were nearing their end too. George's face glowed with a slight sheen of sweat, of which made his hair stick to his forehead as his eyes hung low, drawn to the way in which his cock slid so smoothly into and out of the toy you pleasured him with. Similarly, Sapnap's lips hung open as a stream of curses fell from his lips, face red and sweaty and head flung back towards the ceiling, his imminent peak almost too much for him. The pace of Dream's heavy breathing by your neck, coupled with the ever-uneven pace of his hips and the loud grunting of pleasure that resounded by your ear every time you whimpered as a result of him pulling your hair or thrusting into you were all telltale signs of his oncoming orgasm. All four of you felt so close to the precipice of release.

"I- aghn- can't hold back- g-gonna-!" George suddenly groaned out, voice hoarse and higher in pitch as his orgasm crashed over him, appearing to almost catch him off guard.

His hips stuttered into the toy in your hand, head thrown back and adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he moaned. The sight alone had your thighs trembling and pussy clenching around the metallic toy's surface inside you. You were so close. You wanted to cum. Then, suddenly Sapnap's voice whimpered, causing your mind and eyesight to glance over to his direction, watching as he bit his lip, hips bucking wildly and jaw clearly clenching as he spilled into the toy in your other hand, groaning out your name in a low growl, the lick of a texan accent dancing around the word in such a sinfully delicious tone. Your release was growing so close now you could almost taste it, such scenes only serving to aid this as your arms' power gave out, now hanging by your side as Dream appeared to pound into you even harder. As much as the deep crevices of your mind wished to view the panting forms of George and Sapnap in their post-orgasmic haze, the further and faster the toy inside of you shifted, the less your mind could fully focus, a white-hot heat taking hold of your thoughts as the coil inside of you neared snapping, whines emerging from your throat freely. Just a bit more, your conscience begged. Just a bit harder. A bit longer. A bit further.

"Argh, fuck! Y/N- I- fuck!" Dream grunted out loudly in your ear, a particularly harsh pull on your hair causing you to whimper airily and close your eyes tight shut as Dream released into the synthetic toy inside your pussy's fluttering walls, hips stuttering to an unsteady halt as his breath panted out by your ear. Then his hips fully halted.

You had been so close.

As your body gradually fell from Dream's grasp, body hastily landing on your forearms and knees as he dropped you to the bed and removed himself and the toy from your desperately sensitive hole, your body begged silently for more, trembling and twitching from a inadvertent orgasm denial. Despite the pleasure of witnessing and feeling all three men cum, your body had been completely ignored.

And you just couldn't take it.

"Please, please just touch me- I'll do anything Sapnap, please- Dream- George- I was so close!" your voice brokenly chokes out in a series of desperate moans and pleadings, thighs trembling and eyes tearing up moreso than during that entire ordeal, merely due to frustration.

However, when all you were met with was smug chuckling and deafening silence, your mind started to ponder if it had really been worth it to break a rule all those minutes ago.

[moonlight-prose]

PARALLEL HEARTS | PETER CUBED

a/n: part two if FINALLY here. i think i'm more in love with andrew garfield now than i was when the movies came out. i wasn't sure where i wanted this fic to go. thankfully my brain has decided to work again. i definitely don't think this is good writing, but i don't want to rewrite it. ignore the mistakes.

SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME SPOILERS AHEAD

summary: spider-man's accomplice should have a sweeter ring to it and yet there you are. stuck in the middle of a mess you didn't make.

word count: 5k+

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader (not tom)

warnings: not explicit, cussing, minor angst, TONS of fluff, and kissing.

previous chapter | next chapter

Waking up to find a missing Spider-Man from your living room isn’t how you planned your day would start.

Although handling a superhero situation surely would have made your day begin with a bang and it seemed this was just how to kick it off. Late into the night you had fallen asleep at the table, your face pressed against a textbook as Peter organized the pile of paper beside you. He figured it was the least he could do since you put him up for the night.

After your eyes shut and your brain turned off, you couldn’t remember anything. Like how you ended up in your bedroom, under your covers with the pillow from the couch laying beside you. Some small part of you recalled the sensation of being moved from one room to the other. A voice murmuring to you that it was okay. Everything would be okay.

You assumed it to be Peter which made things even worse. He must have left before you had the chance to wake up, which meant you wouldn’t be able to wish him well on his journey home. If you had the resources - or even the power - you would assist him. Yet all you held in the palm of your hand was a dead phone and a folded up piece of paper that was taped on top of it.

“Dammit,” you sighed, rubbing the sleep out of yours while you simultaneously fought the urge to pass out for a few more hours.

Getting up felt harder than before, but with a disgruntled groan you managed to actually get your feet to touch the cold hardwood floor. If he was gone that meant you didn’t have to involve yourself in this problem any more than you already had done. Helping him for one night would be good enough. Except the small pit in your stomach that began to fester wracked you with guilt at the knowledge that he was now on his own.

“No,” you muttered, running your hand over your face. “I can’t do this.”

You shouldn’t do this.

Stumbling into the kitchen you didn’t notice that your recently shattered window had been put back together. Small pieces of webbing holding the broken glass together. It wasn’t until you were brewing your coffee and searching your rather empty fridge for some food did you realize the apartment was warm. There wasn’t a draft anymore. Glancing behind you, the sight of the window made you smile. A rarity before you had some caffeine in your system, but how could you not.

When Spider-Man himself had tried to help in any way he knew how.

You hummed, the faint scent of your coffee slowly beginning to rouse you from the haze you were trapped in. The books from last night were piled neatly in the center of the table, a small note stuck to the spines.

Thank you for everything.

-Peter^2

“You’re welcome,” you whispered, laughing silently at the way he signed off. In a way it was true. He was the second Peter of this world and while that seemed like a strange concept last night, it felt oddly comforting now. Whatever he was going through…he wasn’t alone. There was another Spider-Man out there ready to help him, even if that Spider-Man was a kid in many ways.

Too immersed in staring at the note in your hands you didn’t hear the window slide open gently. A now properly dressed Peter Parker climbing in balancing several things at once in his hand. It was the coffee being placed in front of you that had you jumping backwards and losing grip of your mug.

“Shit!” he said, the still unfamiliar sounding thwip hitting your ears right after.

“Do you do that a lot?” you shouted, clutching your hand over your chest in the hopes of slowing down your now racing heart. That was the second time he had scared the ever living fuck out of you and something told you it wouldn’t be the last.

He huffed out a laugh, setting the mug down gently. “I’m too quiet for my own good sometimes.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He offered you the bag he was carrying of something that smelled eerily like your favorite types of bagels.

“You left,” you said outright. Some part of you knew that you should have let it go. So what if he left without saying goodbye? He wasn’t yours to keep. Well…the version of you now in this universe didn’t have a hold over Peter.

He looked down, glancing at the mug you had nearly dropped. “I did.”

“And now you’re back?”

He nodded. “I thought I could leave you out of this - I wanted to leave you out of it.”

“But…”

“But you’re the only one who so far hasn’t looked at me like I don’t belong here.” Sighing, he pulled out the chair from last night and took a seat. Leaning against the table. “I thought maybe the other me - Peter - could help, but he’s just a kid.”

“He is a kid. I thought…it would be better if you left and never came back. Except then the guilt set in,” you said, sitting beside him. “Which I never like to deal with. So I’m at your service Parker. With whatever you need.”

Briefly glancing down at the coffee he was holding, he smiled. “You know you’re a lot like the you of my universe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, catching your eyes as you fought to bite back the smile that threatened to show. He would only be here for a minuscule amount of time. Certainly not enough to actually catch any feelings for you whatsoever, so you shouldn’t be doing that either.

Focusing on the problem at hand would be your only priority.

“So, what do we have to do to get you home?” you asked, biting into the bagel and feeling some of the coffee settle into your system. One day – when all of this was over – you’d finally come to terms with the fact that you were one of the people who was lucky enough to interact with someone from an alternate universe.

The notion alone left you speechless. You were speaking to someone who lived in a different universe.

“I need to find the source of where it happened and why.” Pulling the small notepad the both of you had started last night, he began to jot down things he needed. What he remembered about being pulled into this universe. “If we can somehow make the collision happen again-”

“We can get you home?”

“It’s a long shot, but it might be easier than we think.”

The ding of your phone turning on after being plugged in for a bit let you know that a single voicemail was still in your inbox. You thought that seemed a bit strange, until you recalled what occurred yesterday. Calling Stephen, letting him know what was going on. It was – like Peter said – a long shot, but it was worth trying. He might know more than either of you at the moment. Who were you kidding, he probably knew about everything that was happening.

“Hang on.” Playing the message, you heard a high pitched noise in the background.

“Hey smarties it’s Stephen.” – you scoffed at the old nickname – “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to call you that anymore, but I got your message. And yes. I know what you’re talking about. Peter is with me currently so you must be talking about another Peter. Which if you are, then that complicates things here. If you can come to 177A Bleecker Street, I’ll explain as much as I can.”

A singular beep followed, letting you know that this was the only message he had left you. 177A Bleecker Street. You’d never actually been there before. Seeing it on the news was one thing, but seeing it up close in person was another thing entirely. Scribbling down the address on a post-it note you handed it to Peter before getting up to find something else to eat for breakfast.

“Do you eat a lot?”

What kind of question was that?

“I think…”

“No I meant-” Sighing, you attempted to reiterate what you meant in a different way. “How much breakfast am I making? Does your metabolism burn through food faster than the average human or am I good with just making a batch of pancakes and some eggs?”

“The pancakes and eggs are good enough,” he chuckled, getting up to throw away the now empty coffee cups. “Do you want me to help?”

In all honesty you wanted to go back and tell yourself that this was happening. Externally you seemed fine, at ease with what was happening – keeping things under control – and yet internally you were panicking every way you knew how to panic. Breathing heavily would get you nowhere. This was the epitome of what you would deem a breakdown and you weren’t quite sure how to end it.

“You can grab the bowl?” It sounded more like a question than a suggestion. The reassurance of his smile seemed to calm you slightly, but still you worried. There wouldn’t be a part of you that didn’t worry the whole time he was here in your universe.

While he stood by and helped in the process of making the food, you ran through every option you had learned about the multiverse. There wasn’t much to go on; really anything to go on. The lack of information only meant that you would be going off of what Stephen knew. Not exactly a comfort in your case. What did he know about all of this? Was he the cause of all of this?

That was another question entirely. One you didn’t wish to delve into.

At least not right now.

“After we eat I guess we can head out to the address given.” You wanted to adhere to a set sort of list, because the madness of yesterday had left you frazzled beyond belief.

He nodded, shoving a forkful of pancakes – practically dripping in syrup – into his mouth. Some small part of you wondered how exactly he met you from a different universe. It felt like territory you had no business in, but curiosity was always a scientist's greatest downfall. This case just happened to be more personal than anything else. You could see yourself falling for someone like him and while it was selfish of you to even think it – you didn’t want him to leave so suddenly.

Shaking your head, you forced your mind to focus on the objective in front of you.

Getting him home was priority number one as of right now. Dealing with the intense emotions of longing for someone who didn’t technically belong with you was another thing entirely. That could be handled later on. When your head was properly screwed on and things weren’t so chaotic.

“What does this guy do?”

“Do?” You knew what he was implying. Answering him however felt like a plight you would rather avoid at any costs.

He swallowed. “Is he a scientist?”

“He’s a…” How do you phrase this answer that explains how wizards exist in this universe? To be fair there had been a fair few more things that sounded far more shocking than the existence of wizards. “He’s a doctor.”

You were such a chicken shit.

“How – How is a doctor going to help?”

Sincerely…you had no clue. The extent of your knowledge on Stephen being a wizard was just that – he was a wizard and it ended there. You weren’t sure what he did or how he did it. Calling him had been a last resort of sorts, yet it was one you jumped to first.

“He’s going to help us – uh – get you home? He can do things that I’ve never seen a normal person do,” your replied, shoving the pancakes in your mouth to keep yourself busy.

The rest of the breakfast the both of you sat in silence. Focusing instead on the textbooks that were still sprawled around you, each page loaded with post-it notes. Scribblings that might help the situation you were currently in. If not they may help you understand what had to be done in order to help. You couldn’t do magic, didn’t know the first thing about how to wield the powers of the universe, but if there’s one thing you could do. It was science.

Science was simple to understand.

Science had results and solutions and in your case you needed that now more than ever.

“I’ll grab my coat,” you said, grabbing your half filled notebook of notes shared between you and Peter.

He was fixing something on his wrist with a small screwdriver while you made sure that you brought everything needed. Of course, Stephen had his own textbooks and the information you found might very well be useless. That wouldn’t stop you from trying. It took you shoving yourself out the door to actually go through with this plan. Part of you was still wracked with terror at the thought of being apart of a problem this massive. Yet the other part of you – the one who used to thrive in situations where the unknown surrounded you at every turn – couldn’t have been happier.

Finally, life held a meaning again.

Finally, you had a purpose.

After graduating college, it felt like you were meandering about in life. Attempting to fill a void that left you aching for something to do – something where you weren’t completely useless. This felt like that something.

“We can take the subway.” You reached for your wallet. “Nobody knows that you’re Peter Parker and well you look completely different from the one in this universe. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Sounds like a plan. Just one really small question.”

“Yeah?”

“Will – uh – will that be an issue?” He pointed to something behind you.

Your head swiveled to the billboard that currently plastered a video of what looked to be Stephen Strange fighting Spider-Man. Things couldn’t go your way once could they. Sighing, you rushed to yank your phone out of your back pocket, dialing Stephen’s number instantly. The video playing before you was live, which meant that his phone…

‘This is Stephen Strange. I’m not available at the moment so leave a message and I’ll see what I can do about getting back to you.’

…would go to voicemail.

“What the fuck Stephen,” you spit out, loud enough for others passing you on the street to spare you a quick glance.

“Is that the doctor?” he asked, watching the screen, seemingly hooked at the sight of another him fighting. “He doesn’t look…like other doctors I’ve seen.”

You chuckled dryly. “What, they don’t have magical doctors at hospitals in your universe?”

A smile flashed across his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. They might. I don’t have health insurance so I don’t see many doctors. Well…any doctors really.”

“You don’t have-” Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, you turned to stare at him, absolutely positive that an incredulous expression was all he saw. “Aren’t you a superhero?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you don’t have health insurance? How the hell do you heal?”

A shrug followed your question; as if he was just thinking about it now for the very first time. “The spider that kind of – you know – bit me-”

“I didn’t know a spider bit you.”

He paused. “Oh- Well…that’s how I became who I am.”

“Which does what? Give you spectacular healing powers?”

“Basically,” he said, apologizing as someone shoved into him.

Learning that a superhero was surviving solely on wits alone in the middle of a busy street in New York was not how you expected this day to go. Wasn’t the you from his universe making sure that he didn't end up killing himself? A loud noise echoed behind you as the screen changed to show something large terrorizing people on the street.

“Is that one of yours?” you asked, watching open-mouthed as the man turned to…sand.

Peter was in the same boat you were. “Definitely not.”

“I’ve never seen it before.”

Now it was his turn to look shocked. “Does that mean…”

“There’s another Peter Parker running around New York?” You hoped not. “Fucking fantastic,” you muttered, turning away from the screen and heading towards the subway entrance. “We’ve got to get over there!”

“Isn’t the doctor gone?” The sound of his shoes slamming against the steps behind you let you know he was running behind you.

“Yes, but he might come back. Hopefully.” You slammed to a full stop on the center of the stairs as a realization hit you hard. If it wasn’t for Peter wrapping an arm around your waist you would have fallen over when he accidentally slammed into you. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” he stumbled over his words.

You ignored the flutter of your heart as his arm remained around you; even as you turned to face him he still didn’t let go. “No, not you.”

“Oh. What’s wrong?”

“The other Peter,” you said.

He nodded, not following your thought process at all. “What about him?”

“He doesn’t know what’s going on. Which means he might be looking for this universe’s Peter as well.”

“So you’re saying instead of finding this doctor-”

“We have to find Peter.” Apologizing loudly to the people that were walking around the two of you with sheer annoyance on their faces, you grabbed his hand, running up the stairs with him in tow.

To your relief, the billboard still showed Spider-Man swinging through the air and you scribbled out the address of where the helicopter following him was. Somewhere outside of Queens at an apartment you didn’t recognize. Whatever was going on, the news sure was keeping track of where this kid went. You only hoped that when all of this ended, he was left alone completely.

The pungent smells of the subway fill your nose as Peter and you get on a different train completely. Heading towards the apartment was your only chance in figuring out what the fuck was going on. You only hoped that the third Peter would have the same sense to do exactly what the two of you were doing. The rumbling of the subway helped you to lose sense of time for a bit – instead focusing on something other than the fact that you were heading somewhere dangerous.

“Why don’t you have health insurance?” The question popped out of your mouth quicker than you could reign it in.

Peter reared back, pulling himself out of his own thoughts. “I- What?”

“You said you don't have any and I’m just wondering why the me of your universe would allow that to happen?” This was none of your business. “It’s just – you should have a back up plan. I know it’s ridiculous and you can heal fast, but it’s still sensible that a-” You trailed off at the sight of his face. He was smiling at you with a glint in his eyes you couldn’t read fully. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Laughing, he ducked his head down to shove the false glasses further up his nose. “No I’m sorry it’s just – your rant reminded me of…well…you.”

“Me?” He nodded. “Oh! Me. So I’ve had this conversation with you before?”

“Yeah actually – you have this conversation a lot with me. Every time I come back a little bruised.”

“A little?”

Another laugh had you definitely considering the ramifications of asking him to stay here. “You say that too.”

“I’m very smart,” you said, a small grin playing on your lips.

“Part of why I love you.”

The sentence slipped out and it took him a few seconds of realizing what he said to actually react. His eyes widened, mouth opening to quickly withdraw his comment, but the screeching of the subway stopping cut him off. Ignoring the punched out breath you let out, you turned away from him and got off at the stop. He said it without thinking. You were identical to the you of his life. In a way that must have confused him for a second.

It was the only logical reason you could come to. So why did it hurt so much to finally settle on that answer?

The building was a few blocks down the street and you figured bursting into the place wasn’t the best option. Which left you with one option; waiting until someone came out. Heading into the bodega on the corner you figured it would be better to get lunch and perch somewhere until something panned out.

Peter followed along beside you, stuck in his own thoughts at the moment. Maybe it was better this way. You weren’t together, you weren’t in each other's lives, shit you weren’t even friends at this point. No, this was merely a courtesy you were doing to assist him. Nothing more – right?

“It’ll take awhile to see any action so I suggest some lunch.” Tossing him a pre-packaged sandwich, you watched him catch it without looking.

“Where do we wait?”

You shrugged, snatching the last bag of chips off the shelf and a half a sandwich to go with a drink. “I’m sure there’s a rooftop we can occupy around here.”

“A rooftop? You sure?”

“It’s a concrete jungle. There’s loads of rooftops.” Your indifference to the situation was showing; or maybe that was you being numb to everything around you. The shock factor had worn off the second he said those words. What did you have to feel this way about though?

He wasn’t yours.

Paying what the food cost, you followed Peter outside, glancing up at the building currently housing the other Peter. The two of you only needed to wait for a few hours. So, you picked the building across the street and began to walk quickly to avoid the oncoming barrage of cars. He was quicker than you though, yanking you out of the way and into his chest as a car’s horn echoed sharply in the air behind you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting your head back to see you better.

This position, his eyes, the concern clearly showing on his face, all of it felt far too intimate. You weren’t meant to be in this state with him and yet there you stood. Admiring how the brown of his eyes almost shined when they caught the sun. Pulling away from him slowly felt like more of a hassle than almost getting hit by a car, but it would have to happen eventually.

He had to go home.

That shook you out of your doe eyed state.

“Let’s go,” you mumbled.

It was another apartment building that you had to try and get into. Pushing the buzzer for a random attendant, you glanced behind you just in case someone was looking to get in with you. Only once had you done this before and it was to get to a rooftop on new year's eve to see the fireworks.

“Hello?” A man’s voice came through the crackling speaker.

“Oh hello!” you exclaimed. “I’m locked out of the building. Could you-” The buzz of the door unlocking cut off the rest of your question. “Thank you.”

Peter grabbed the door, rushing in after you and up the stairs towards the roof before someone could spot you. It wasn’t normal to know your neighbors in New York, but for all you knew this building regularly checked in on who lived near them. You knew yours. Well…only Mrs. Sanders who lived next door, but that was mainly due to the fact that her cat regularly found it’s way into your apartment.

“Do you have super vision?”

“I – don’t think so,” he replied, smiling as you tried to unstick the door to the roof. “Let me.”

One shove of his shoulder into the door and it slammed open. Louder than you had anticipated.

“Well I can’t see what’s going on across the street so I was thinking that you might be able to.”

Shaking his head, he handed you the sandwich you bought earlier before finding a place to sit. “That’s not really how it works.”

“How does it work exactly?” You took the spot next to him, opening the bag of chips and offering him one.

“As in, what powers do I have?” You nodded. “Oh – uh – okay well I have this kind of sense where I can pick up on things. You actually joked around and called it my spider sense. That name kind of stuck eventually. Uh – I’m strong?”

“Like superman strong?”

He laughed, opening his apple juice. “Kinda. I can stop a bus with nothing but my hands.”

“Wow. That’s…wow.” Squinting to see across the street, you thought you noticed some movement from the apartment. “Anything else?”

“I’m sticky.”

Choking on your drink was involuntary as you laughed and it was enough to make him join you. “Sticky? As in…actually sticky? What do you just attach to things?”

He grimaces, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “I learned that the hard way. On a subway station.”

“Please tell me everything about that situation.”

Leaning back against the stack of boxes behind you, he smiles. “It started by me being asleep.”

Four hours passed quicker than you expected it to. After hour number three you had gone back across the street to get some more food in the hopes that it wouldn’t take much longer. Once hour number four passed though you were beginning to lose hope. Eventually you’d have to go home and the longer you sat there, the more you wondered if they were actually in that building.

Peter stood beside you, breathing in the musty fresh air as horns and sounds of traffic echoed around you. If the fact that he had to go home wasn’t an issue, you would have actually found this to be quite a romantic moment.

“I just have to say-” He turned so swiftly that you nearly jumped.

“Yeah?”

“When I said I love you earlier it wasn’t like I was saying I love you to…”

Your heart sank. “Oh – I know.”

“No I mean-” He watched you so intensely that you were sure he must have spotted something on your face. “It’s just that you’re exactly the same. I don’t even know…I’m not sure…”

Nodding, you picked at the chipped nail polish that covered your nails. “It’s really okay I know that you were confused.”

“I was, but now I’m not anymore.”

Catching his gaze, you couldn’t move. Once again you admired the brown, enraptured by the sea of emotions that played in them. If you were stuck on a roof with anyone else you would have lost your mind, and yet with him – you felt like days could pass and you wouldn’t notice. You had looked up the scientific term for soulmates last night to humor yourself and yet…it seemed that things such as that – trivial things – were somewhat true.

“You’re not?” you breathed, the sound of traffic tuning out in the background.

He shook his head subtly, leaning in even closer. “Why are you so…”

“So?”

A warm palm cupped from your cheek, sliding towards your neck to pull you closer. “Perfect,” he whispered, capturing your lips with his in a swift kiss.

Inhaling sharply, you found your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer as one hand tangled in his hair. Kissing him shouldn’t have been this electrifying. It shouldn’t have made your toes curl and your pulse quicken to a point of nearly being lightheaded. In spite of all of that, it still did and you found that you couldn’t pull away from him.

His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you towards him as he licked at your bottom lip asking timidly for permission to deepen the kiss. One which you gave without question. If you thought you were dizzy before, this caused you to melt into his body. He tasted like apple juice, chocolate, and something purely him. The warmth of his mouth pressed against yours left you reeling, but it was something you wanted to relish in for as long as you could.

It seemed…you spoke too soon.

An explosion shook the building you were in, causing you to stumble. Peter – looking thoroughly kissed and flushed – cupped your face to check on you before turning to see the situation. Across the street, the bottom of the building had been nearly blown to bits with rubble strewn everywhere.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, gaping at the sight.

A green figure flew out, going over where you and Peter stood before vanishing into the night. Whatever caused this explosion was from them. Which meant that the other Peter had been in there the entire time. You turned to tell Peter that the goblin creature had to be found, only to see him yanking a red mask out of the bag he’d been carrying.

“I’m sorry,” he said, already dressed in his suit. “I’ve got to find him.”

“I’ll go with you,” you replied, grabbing the bag and strapping it across your shoulder.

“No.”

You scoffed. “I can help you. I know how to- What are you doing?”

He leaned over the edge of the building. “Please stay away from this.”

“Peter no I can-”

“No!” he shouted, running a hand over his face. “Please. I know what will happen when you get involved and I can’t…I can’t do that to someone I care about. Not again. Please.”

The look on his face, the raw pain that he showed you, was the final factor in this decision. “Peter.”

“Don’t fight me on this-”

Getting closer, you cupped his cheek, pressing your lips against his quickly. “Be safe.”

He smiled tightly before you were watching him leap off the side of the roof. A now familiar thwip echoed in the night sky as he swung off into the distance, following whatever flew from the building. How you ended up in this predicament you’d never know, but there you were. Standing alone and trying to figure out a way to help him despite everything he said.

“I’m definitely not cut out for this,” you muttered to yourself as you began to take the stairs down all the way to the bottom floor, wishing you had superpowers that would allow you to swing from buildings.