#i didn't even consciously seek it out

[dewvorce-flowers]

The last fanfiction with Johnny in it is named "happy endings".

Fuck, this is all just so wrong.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[cacw]

hi people who have seen the movie, maybe read the prequel book, do you think bruce would have ever made any attempt on his own life

[rboooks]

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

[hoshifighting]

Okay... But what if Y/n tells his best friend, Wonwoo, since highschool that she wants to join as a stripper as a joke. But then Wonwoo asks her to do a sexy dance in front of him, and Y/n played along, dancing, stripping naked in front of him and rode his lap with him still wearing shorts, until Wonwoo couldn’t hold back and fucked her hard.

— Warnings: Smut, lap dance, reader jokes ab being a stripper (all respect to the profession), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, best friends, stripping. — WC: 2k

It was a typical Friday evening, and you found yourself lounging on the couch with your best friend, Wonwoo. The two of you had been inseparable since high school, forming an unlikely but unbreakable bond. Wonwoo, with his quiet demeanor, was the yin to your yang. While he navigated life with a calm and collected approach, you were the unabashed extrovert, always seeking excitement.

As the evening progressed, you couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot a bit. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Wonwoo and blurted out, "Hey, Wonwoo, you know what I've been thinking lately?"

"What's on your mind, Y/n?" Wonwoo replied, his eyes reflecting curiosity.

"I was thinking of becoming a stripper."

Wonwoo's face immediately furrowed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He blinked a few times, processing the unexpected revelation. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to comprehend your words.

"Wait, what? A stripper?" Wonwoo finally managed to articulate, his voice laced with bewilderment.

You chuckled at his reaction, fully aware of the stark contrast between your outgoing nature and Wonwoo's reserved personality. "Nah, Wonwoo, it's just a joke! Can you imagine me on a stage, dancing in front of strangers?"

His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to process the information. "You...want to be a stripper as a joke?"

"Yeah!"

Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, his furrowed brow relaxing. "You scared me there for a moment. I couldn't picture you doing something like that."

The truth is, Wonwoo was a fucking liar.

However, deep down, Wonwoo couldn't deny the vivid image that flashed in his mind at your mention of becoming a stripper. The mental image of you dancing around a pole in skimpy clothing lingered, creating an unexpected tension in the room. He quickly brushed aside the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the conversation.

You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but tease him. "Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Are you sure you can't picture it? I bet I'd be the star of the show!"

Wonwoo's cheeks flushed slightly as he awkwardly coughed, attempting to dispel the lingering mental image. "No, Y/n. Let's not even entertain that idea. It's just not you."

With a sly grin, you turned to him and asked, "Wait, are you saying I'm not hot enough for that kind of job, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all!"

But his reddening cheeks and ears told a different story. You couldn't help but revel in the mischief, adopting a mischievous expression. "Oh, I see. So, you do think I'm hot?"

Wonwoo stammered, trying to backtrack, "I-I didn't say that. I just meant, um, it's not something I could imagine you doing. Not because of how you look!" His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "Well, I mean, you're... You're pretty, very pretty."

He couldn't help but attribute his discomfort to more than just the thought of you pole dancing—it was the unspoken crush he harbored on you. Each playful comment seemed to amplify his self-consciousness, making him acutely aware of the feelings he kept under wraps.

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the provocative topic, you chimed in, "You know, it's not like I genuinely want to be a stripper. But I've always thought it would be fun to dance for someone, you know? Just to let loose and have a good time."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at your revelation. The notion of you wanting to dance for someone, while not necessarily in a provocative way, fueled his imagination, igniting a subtle curiosity.

"Oh, really?" he responded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "Dance for someone, like, just casually?"

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah! I mean, not in a professional setting, but just dancing for someone special. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun, don't you think?"

Wonwoo's mind raced, grappling with the newfound information. His gaze focused on you, and with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you mentioned wanting to dance for someone. Would you... uh, would you mind dancing for me?"

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and a playful grin formed on your lips. "Oh, really? Wonwoo, are you asking me for a dance?"

"Well, you know, you mentioned it, and I thought it might be... nice. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

You couldn't help but find his shy request endearing. "Sure, Wonwoo. But you have to promise not to laugh at my moves. I can't promise they'll be any good."

Wonwoo chuckled nervously, "I'm sure you'll be great."

Your hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a playful grin, you tossed your clothing aside, letting it land somewhere in the living room. Wonwoo's eyes widened behind his glasses, focusing on your exposed tits, his usually composed demeanor giving way to a hint of surprise and curiosity.

His voice came out as a soft whisper, "Does this... does this make part of the dance too?"

You simply nodded, your own confidence shining through. "Of course!"

The room was filled with the sultry beat of the music as you continued to move, your hands gracefully making contact with your body. Wonwoo couldn't tear his eyes away, the subtle allure of the moment captivating his senses. The dancing became a mesmerizing display, the connection between you and Wonwoo growing hotter with each passing moment.

As the music's tempo intensified, you decided to take it a step further. With a bold move, you gracefully moved to sit on Wonwoo's lap, your dance becoming more provocative. His breath caught in his throat as your movements became a sensuous exploration, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your hips moved up and down, back and forth, and of course the bulge inside of his pants grew harder. Wonwoo, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, let his hands find your hips. He tried to disguise the effect your movements were having on him, not wanting to make it obvious how affected he was. Your hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm against his, and Wonwoo felt a surge of lust that he struggled to conceal.

Unexpectedly, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, hanging in the air like a shared secret. Wonwoo's ears caught the sound, and a jolt of awareness ran through him. Did he hear that right?

His hands instinctively pushed your hips down, a silent plea for you to continue. The dance resumed, and your hips moved deliciously against his. Wonwoo bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the desire that surged through him.

"Hm… Wonwoo…"

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n."

In the blink of an eye, the delicate balance of composure that Wonwoo had been struggling to maintain shattered. His hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a hungry, passionate kiss. The air crackled as your lips met, the tension between you finally finding release.

Wonwoo's free hand moved with a sense of urgency, grabbing your ass through the material of your shorts that still clung to your body. The touch was both possessive and hungry, his tongue fought yours, and your hips continued to grind on his dick.

Your hardened nipples were pressed on his chest, and he felt that, also, he felt your wetness soaking his pants through your shorts. His mouth found its way to your neck, leaving a trail of eager kisses. The soft touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp as his kisses ventured down towards your bust. His hands, now firmly gripping your tits.

He slowly guided you to lie on the couch. The air was thick with anticipation as his hands skillfully worked on the buttons of your shorts, his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid the clothing down your legs along with your panties. In the charged atmosphere of the room, as Wonwoo lowered his head closer to your thighs, you felt a sudden surge of impatience and need. Your hands gently pressed against his shoulders, halting his descent, and you looked into his eyes with a sense of urgency.

"Please, Wonwoo," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper. "Hurry, I need you."

His dark eyes met yours, the intensity of the moment reflected in the depths of his gaze. Understanding the urgency in your plea, Wonwoo's movements became more purposeful. With a swift motion, he aligned himself with your pussy, his pants and underwear also thrown around. 

The hot head of his cock rubbed against your entrance. He entered slowly so he didn't hurt you, since you didn't even want to wait for him to prepare you.  "How did you get so wet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and desire.

Rolling your eyes in response, you could only manage a breathless murmur, "You," the single word encapsulating the effect he had on you. 

His cock stretched your walls perfectly, loving the fullness of Wonwoo, the initial discomfort giving way to a wave of pleasure. As Wonwoo's breath danced across your skin, his nose taking in the scent of your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. 

The throbbing length of his cock being squeezed by your wet walls, until his pelvis hits yours, a relief moan leaves your lips, as Wonwoo kisses your cheeks, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you. 

Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder, making your body squirm under him. Meanwhile, Wonwoo admired the scene. How can a simple dance take him to paradise? He felt like he was seeing a work of art that some divine being had forbidden him from for so long.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your pussy making him wetter by the second, and your moans were driving him to the brink of an orgasm. "F-fuck Wonwoo yes! Right here!"

The explicit encouragement fueled a surge of energy within him, and Wonwoo, driven crazy by you, found the strength to respond. His movements became more purposeful, with a renewed vigor, he shifted your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest, deepening his cock inside of your pussy abusing the g'spot.

As you drooled from the corners of your mouth, the sheer pleasure and desire took over. In a breathless symphony, you cried out his name, as the climax overtook you, you felt yourself clenching uncontrollably around his cock, making him moan the loudest. 

Leaving an indelible mark on the couch beneath you, his cock throbbed inside of your pussy, the white hot spurts, being spilled inside of you, while you could only mumble his name softly enough to make him melt over you.

The air hung with a sense of ease and contentment as you found yourself still catching your breath, your voice reduced to a soft murmur of his name. Wonwoo, lying atop you, he couldn't help but savor the tender sound.

"Mmm, Wonwoo," you whispered, the quiet intimacy in your voice reflecting the connection between you two.

He stayed nestled on top of you, his weight providing a comforting support as you both recovered. Wonwoo looked into your eyes, a gentleness in his expression that hadn't surfaced before. "You know," he started, a playful glint in his eyes, "I think I want you to dance for me more often."

A genuine laugh escaped your lips, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected comment. "Oh, really? You enjoyed the show that much, Wonwoo?"

He nodded, his cheeks sporting a subtle blush. "Yeah, it was...unexpected, but I liked it. A lot."

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, you reveled in the sight of a more playful and confident Wonwoo. "So, you're saying you want a private dance performance on demand?"

Wonwoo's shy demeanor returned, but this time, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe...just a little. It was...nice."

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hihi!, This is my first request of something like this but here we go! Male harbingers with a reader who has constant nightmares/episodes of sleep paralysis and proceed to comfort them through the process. Obviously you don’t gotta do it if you don’t have the time, just wanted to put this little headcannon out into the world!

(I swear I’m not dead! I was busy graduating and enrolling in my next uni studies!)

✦ How they comfort you when you wake up from a nightmare

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe.

In the darkest depth of our consciousness, even we do not possess sovereignty over our dreams. Be it a curse or a blessing, your mind can become your foe. As thoughts and memories convulse into pleasant dreams or horrid nightmares, you end up with the dreaded sense of despair as you witness your own mind betraying you, and waking up with a cold sweat. Tossing and turning, there is only a certain pair of arms that can soothe you in the dimness of such nights - your beloved’s embrace. 

✧ Pierro knows you’re having a nightmare before you even wake up. On a quiet night, when he is sitting beside you in bed, either reading or engrossed in some papers, you’d doze off beside him. But on such nights, he discerns the unease written on your sleeping face. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed or softly scowling. The Jester sets whatever he is reading aside and shifts his calculated attention towards you. You start silently tossing as if the very softness of the covers is heavy on you. Pierro sighs, his hand softly coming to rest on your forehead to confirm his suspicion - you are warm, yet breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Dear, shh… open your eyes, slowly now.” - he whispers, as his hands slowly yet deliberately caress your face. “You are having a nightmare again.” 

And indeed, you open your eyes; your dazed expression is one of puzzlement yet evident fear. Pierro knows your first few minutes of waking up from a nightmare are delicate. Through the haze, your first instinct is to seek refuge in the safety of the arms holding you, knowing to who it belongs already. You turn towards him, letting him pull you against his chest. 

 “…Your mind is wary and played tricks on you. You're here now. Breathe.” - you kept your eyes closed, too worn out to get up or speak about your nightmare. Thus, you focused on Jester’s words, breathing deeply as the sound of his heartbeat was navigating you to inhale and exhale. 

You didn't have to explain your nightmares to Pierro - he already knows they mirror the horrors of the cataclysm he once witnessed. Therefore, he squeezes you tightly against him, his lips pressed against your forehead. With silent words of comfort, Pierro continued his vows to protect you, even from your nightmares. 

✧ Il Capitano kneeled beside your bed, akin to a dutiful knight. You lay there, asleep, your wounds and gashes carefully bandaged. This wasn't your first time returning from a prolonged expedition, battle scars and bruises coloring your skin. After all, he often warns you not to be reckless, while you stubbornly return home with bruises. 

Hence, he silently remained beside you, his fists clenched and shoulders taut. His pitch-black helmet stared at you for a prolonged time, anxiously keeping watch of your deep slumber. The Captain's mind reeled, chastising himself for not being there to protect you. But suddenly his attention was diverted as you started to mutter in your sleep. 

It was incomprehensible and lasted only a fleeting second before you jolted up with a sudden gasp, urgently grappling for breath.

“My beloved, what is the matter?” - Capitano rushed towards your side, his arm immediately around your shoulder. “Focus on breathing, steady your heart.”

You wake up, eyes wide with shock and gasping for life, like a fool rescued from drowning. You stared at your beloved in confusion, before your face sourced in melancholy. Il Capitano let you hide your face against him, his arms carefully wrapped around you to avoid pressing your bruises. He sensed your shoulders shaking, small sobs emitting from you - and that sound alone could make the steadfast Harbinger crumble. His hands brush your messy hair aside, offering soothing comfort.

“I shall hold you, my dear. These were only illusions brought about by your fatigue and injuries… It’s all safe now, I am here.” - Capitano squeezed you in his embrace as if his larger frame could shield you from harm. However, in truth, his words aimed to reassure not only you but also himself. Despite his vigilance, his hands trembled whenever he witnessed your distress, fear, or unease. "What did you see, my love?"

You sniffled, recounting the blurry bits of your nightmare. Although you were regaining your breath, you felt how Capitano’s hand trembled, his stern expression faltering with concern. Even you could tell that he was more nervous about your disposition, maybe even more than you. 

“You saw such horrible visions due to your fatigue. I did not shield you from your wounds and nightmares. I shan’t forgive myself for my failure. From here on out, allow me to remedy it.” 

✧ At an ungodly hour of the night, Il Dottore returned to his private chambers. With the long hours of working in the lab behind him, he entered the bedroom quietly, expecting to see you fast asleep. Instead, he noticed the bathroom door ajar, allowing a streak of light to seep into the dark room, and the faint sound of tap water running caught his attention. Most importantly, you were not in bed. 

“It’s rare to see you awake at this hour…” - the Doctor remarked as he stood by the bathroom doorway, observing you cool your face with water. “Why are you not asleep?”

“I…couldn’t sleep.” - you replied briefly, yet your fatigue was evident as you tapped your face with a towel.

The Harbinger did not buy your lies, he carefully stepped closer, his gloved hands placed softly onto your shoulders. “Turn around. Look at me.” 

You did so, and no words were necessary as he analyzed your sorrowful gaze: reddened eyes, darkened circles, and an ashan look of despair bestowed on you. The Harbinger sighed, keenly aware that you had woken from another harrowing dream. His hands now gently caressed your cheek, thumb trailing softly.

“Another nightmare?” - he inquired in a hushed tone, “Staying awake won’t resolve it, you know. Let’s get you back to bed.” 

You wished to object, but Dottore had already sprung into full work mode. He brought you back to bed, deftly fixing the tousled pillows and covers to your liking. Once you were tucked, he instructed quickly: “Now stay here. I will brew some chamomile tea. It will help your slumber.” 

Thus, with his coat removed and sleeves rolled up to the forearms, he moved through the house, swiftly ensuring that your resting area exuded comfort and tranquility. Returning with the steaming tea, he placed the cup on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. “Careful now, it’s still hot. Do you want me to give you sleeping p-” 

“I’m not ill, Dottore. It was just… a nightmare. Nothing more.” 

“Yet your expression says it wasn’t ‘just’ a nightmare, and your heartbeat is accelerating.” - His hand ran over your forehead, instinctively checking for your temperature. “It’s just a dream. You're awake now. Don’t exhaust yourself anymore - it’s usually my job to stay late, actually.” 

You huffed at him but managed a faint smile. “Undoubtedly… And what would the doctor prescribe for my ailment?” 

Il Dottore smirked proudly, planting a much-needed kiss on your cheek before finally scooting beside you in bed - “Why, a dose of me, of course!” 

✧ The moment Scaramouche perceived the sound of your distress in the dead of night, he swiftly flung the sliding shoji door aside, prepared for murder. But there was no intruder or attacker, it was just you, sitting up on your futon, softly weeping. The confused Balladeer stepped into your room, kneeling beside you as his mind invoked the worst scenarios already.

“What happened? I heard a scream.”

For a moment you tried to regain your breath, gulping. Only after regaining your composure, and hearing much coaxing to tell the truth, did you finally reveal to him what transpired. It was a nightmare, plain and simple. For a moment, Scaramouche was silent. He is no stranger to dreams, particularly the ones that bring tears to the dreamer. Instead, he resented them, viewing dreams as the root of his vulnerabilities and the reason for his estrangement.

But witnessing you weep after a nightmare? It was a foreign feeling, one that left a foul pit in his being.

“Hey, calm down.” - he whispered, reaching for you. At first, the Harbinger wasn’t sure how to handle this, but he persisted nonetheless. “It was all just a dream. A jumble of thoughts made up by your mind, Do not allow such a thing to haunt your sleep.”

“I'm sorry, Scara… I know, It’s foolish to cry. I just-”

The 6th shushed you, but when you tried to glance at him in the dark, you sensed no mockery or animosity in his gaze. “I didn't say you should stop crying. It’s not foolish either.”

With a deep sigh, Scaramouche begrudgingly crawled beside you under the covers. He made sure you were lying down beside him, pulling the covers over you both. "Okay, listen. I will stay with you while you fall back asleep. Only this time! So don't expect a bedtime story."

His irritation veiled his concern for your weary expression. But thankfully, his words managed to elicit a chuckle to your sleepy face. He watched you lay on your side, his fingers idly toying with the ends of your hair.

"Say, Scaramouche...? Do puppets have bad dreams?"

The Balladeer did not think much of your innocent question. He didn't have to contemplate long to let his memories resurface; instead, he just nodded quietly with no elaboration. Regardless, that simple question from you kept haunting his mind for years to come. As Wanderer sat alone in bed, the torturous grip of dreams clutching him anew, he no longer had you beside him. The reassurance he once provided while spending sleepless nights with you was absent, just as you were no longer there to offer the same. 

✧ When you jolted up with a yelp, you likely caused a bigger fright to Pantalone than your own nightmare instilled in you. The Harbinger rose from his slumber, turning the nightstand lamp with half-shut eyes.

“Oh dearie, Shhh… It’s alright, all is good,” - he tugged at you with trepidation, pulling you close to him in bed. “I’ve never seen you so frightened from a dream. There, there.” 

You honestly felt ashamed at first, but both of you understood the uncontrollable nature of nightmares, especially if they caused you to scream in the awakened world. So here you were, hiding your face behind your palms while your beloved hugged you, hoping to provide solace. Once you came out of your shock, you just rested against his shoulder quietly. Once the shock subsided, you remained leaning against his shoulder in silence. However, the lingering taste of the nightmare left a sour impression on your mood, as you found yourself unable to drift back into slumber. 

Pantalone observed your despondent demeanor, his arm still encircling your shoulders - “Do you think you can fall back asleep, honey?”  

“... I’m sorry, Pantalone. I woke you up, too. Now I feel embarrassed.” 

“Nonsense, dear. An unpleasant dream does that sometimes. You’re just… shaken by the memories of your nightmare, and now unable to fall back asleep.” - The Regrator brought the covers closer over your figure, while your head leaned on his shoulders. “Do you want me to make you something? Maybe coffee, or valerian root tea with honey?” 

“No, no. Can you just… keep talking for a while?” - you requested in a sudden coy manner, “You can talk about anything. I want to hear you speak.” 

“Hm, very well,” - Pantalone smiled fondly and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. “I think I have just the idea.” 

Reaching for a book he usually reads before bed, the Harbinger scooted closer, ensuring the open pages were visible to you. Pantalone knew that what troubled you did not require in-depth words or solutions. Instead, you sought a distraction from your troubled mind. Something to keep your saddened thoughts at bay while he spoke about whatever he could think of. 

“Then allow me to read for you while you rest easy, okay? Ahem…”

In the dimly illuminated bedroom, you found solace in the soothing voice of your beloved, your gaze tracing the words on the pages as Pantalone remained engrossed in his reading aloud. You kept quiet and still, seeing him flip the pages as he continued. Soon enough, the gentle cadence of his voice ushered you into the embrace of sleep, and you yielded willingly back to slumber. Pantalone detected your drooping head and quietly closed the book before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep well, dear." 

✧ Tartaglia blinked at you, his countenance solemn as he sat upright in bed. You mirrored his gaze, knowing perfectly well what he would say. You could smell it a mile away.

“Let me beat them!”

“No,” - you crossed your arms.

“Let me beat whoever bothers you in your nightmares”

“For the last time, Ajax, you can’t physically ‘fight’ nightmares! It’s a nightmare, not a person!”

Such was the course of your evening. Startled from a haunting dream, you found Childe by your side, showing more concern for your welfare than you did yourself. Instead, he insisted on vanquishing your nightmares with his fists alone.

“Oh come on, you know I’m just joking. I saw you gasping for air after you woke up so abruptly; don’t blame me for being concerned.” - Childe rolled his eyes, gently pulling you to rest on his arms. “Tell me, what did you see?”

You sighed deeply, remaining apprehensive despite his humorous jabs. After much contemplation, you decided it would be worse if you recited your nightmares vocally. “It… It doesn’t matter. It was a nonsensical nightmare, nothing to ponder about.”

The Harbinger frowned softly, he knew you well enough when something troubled you. And it was clear you felt anguished by the recent dream you had. Pressing further would only exacerbate it, instead, he decided to annoy you in a different manner

“Well, next time you have a bad dream… Call out for me. In your dreams I mean!” - He stated with a big smile.

“...What?”

“Think about it! Something is bothering you while you’re dreaming - you call out for me, and I stop my dreams to come to your dream.”

“That’s ridiculous,” - you chuckled

“And then, you know, pow, pow!” - Childe mimicked the motion of fistfighting, pretending to punch some invisible opponent who could be your potential enemy in a nightmare. In the meantime, you started laughing even more. “And there you go! Your nightmares are now rainbows and sunshine.”

You knew well what Tartaglia was doing. He aimed to lift you out of your forlorn state by sharing lighthearted jokes - and it was working. Tartaglia watched you laughing silly as he made some childish remarks, feeling victorious to bring in that smile he adores oh so much. It was his method of alleviating the tensions in your mind, and it proved effective as the two of you snuggled in bed, entertained by amusing banter until your worries subsided. Then, and only then, would you release a contented sigh and allow yourself to drift back into slumber in the comforting embrace of your beloved.

[improbable-outset]

for an angst/whatever else Miguel fic

what about an inexperienced reader who has a shitty bf and he makes a cruel joke at her expense in front of people, including miguel, who's her boss and later or something miguel comments on it to her and it can either lead to smut or fluff, your choice 💓

Hi anon, thanks for the request. I might’ve gone a little carried away with this one heh…

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐞

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Toxic relationship, Manipulative and controlling behaviour, humiliation, alcohol consumption, unresolved pinning 👀, fluff and comfort, intimate tension.

𝐀/𝐍: WE ARE SO BACK. While writing this, I’ve discovered that writing toxic characters is actually kinda fun and amusing, especially with dialogues

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: During a company dinner party, you find yourself humiliated by your current boyfriend. Seeking some escape, you confide with your boss, Miguel, whose support reveals some hidden emotions you’ve buried.

Your reflection stared back at you blankly as you fixed the strap of your dress for the umpteenth time. Despite the dress fitting you perfectly, you couldn’t stop yourself from anxiously adjusting it— even if there was nothing to fix.

Social events were always outside of your forte but you wanted to put yourself out there, especially given the fact that it was an event from your work.

You wanted to look your best for tonight and make yourself as presentable as you could, leaving a lasting impression outside of the work environment.

You quickly patted the beads of sweat that were forming from your forehead before touching up on your makeup.

“Are you ready?” A male voice called out from outside the room. Your chest clenched slightly, a sudden sense of urgency washing over you.

“Almost,” there wasn’t much for you to do now but you didn't want to leave the house just yet.

Not a moment passed before Adam stepped in the room. He had a tone build and wore a dress shirt with contrasting dark pants for the occasion. His hair was combed back and he was growing out a stubble that gave a charming feature to his look.

Adam’s held his gaze on your form, eyeing you and your outfit. You felt a tinge of self consciousness until you saw a small amused smile on his face.

“What?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing,” he stated, his line of sight still sweeping over you. “You look phenomenal, as usual.”

The compliment made your chest warm. You met Adam through a mutual friend at work. Before you got together, you were typically more reserved and kept conversations with everyone to a minimum.

But Adam would always try to spark a conversation with you, even when you gave him one worded answer. He even tried to invite you to socials outside of work with your other co-workers in an attempt to get you to open up.

Though you knew it was only an excuse for him to get to know you and to get your attention, even if it was just disguised as a regular polite conversation. Eventually you caved in to him and a few friendly conversations later, he asked you out.

You took another look in the mirror. There was something missing in the look. You reached over to your vanity drawer and pulled out one of your favourite lipstick shades before putting it on.

Adam leaned over to see your reflection in the mirror and frowned. “Oh…are you wearing that shade of lipstick again?”

You turned to look at him. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said simply, his tone casual but the words stinging like a slap. It was one of your favourite lipsticks, a shade you thought complimented you well. No one had ever said otherwise.

“Really? Everyone has said that it matches with my complexion,” you arched your brow in confusion to disguise how bothered you were.

“Well, I’m telling you that it doesn’t look good on you,” he further added. All the reassurances you felt from the compliment you received was replaced with a dull ache.

“I wore it on our first date and you said that you loved it.”

You remembered you were feeling nervous and thought you didn’t look good enough. But Adam reassured you that you look beautiful and that was enough to lift your mood throughout the entire date.

But after hearing his comment just now, you didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“I said I liked the outfit, not the lipstick specifically,” he corrected.

“Should I take it off then?” Reluctantly, you picked up a tissue from the box with trembling hands, ready to wipe it off your lips.

Adam didn’t reply, instead looking at his watch impatiently.

“Look, we need to leave now if we want to avoid the traffic. Meet me in the car in five minutes,” he instructed, completely dismissing your question before leaving the room abruptly, now driven by urgency.

Just to save yourself from hearing him point it out again, you wiped off the lipstick from your lips. However, before you left the room, you packed the lipstick in your purse. A small act of defiance.

As you made your way to the car, you saw Adam fumbling with the glove compartment from the passenger side. Whatever he was looking for, he managed to find it and keep it hidden from your view before you could open the passenger side door.

You stepped in and buckled yourself up before you closed the door behind you. Unintentionally, you closed it harder than you intended, causing Adam to jolt in response.

“Hey, hey easy with the door babe-” he reprimanded, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“What?”

“Are you trying to break the car?” He tried to lighten the mood with a small smirk but failed— his feeble lightheartedness faded like over washed denim.

“I didn’t slam it that hard.” You quipped back.

Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could tell that he didn’t want to dampen the mood and argue about this, especially now.

Defuse the spark before it gets ignited.

This wasn’t the first time you fought about something trivial. He left the argument hanging and pulled out a small box.

So this was what he was getting from the glove compartment…

“Here, I got this for you,” His voice switched like a flipping coin, as he opened the box to reveal a necklace. Your eyes widen, taking in the sight of the jewellery that glistened under the low lighting in the car.

The necklace was a silver chain with a pendant that matched with the dress you were wearing. He took the necklace out of the cushion packaging and gestured for you to come closer.

“Come here. Let me help you put it on,” he said. You leaned forward so he could reach the back of your neck.

His fingers grazed on your skin as he fastened the clasp, an act that felt almost too intimate given the recent tension. The coolness of the metal brushed against your neck.

“It’s beautiful. But what’s the occasion?” You asked, one of your hands reaching to touch the pendant. It sat on your neckline perfectly.

“Do I need a motive to give you a gift? I thought these things would be more spontaneous if they came from the heart,” he said as he put on the car's ignition. The engine hummed to life and Adam drove off the driveway with one hand on the wheel.

The car was bathed in his cologne smell. It wasn’t his usual signature scent that he used everyday. This has a spicy undertone to match the occasion, though you preferred his usual scent to this. The aroma seemed to cling into the air and linger long after he sprayed it. You didn’t want to admit that it was too strong for your liking.

You cruised through the streets smoothly and watched as you passed each building and property. Adam glanced over at you from the corner of his eyes, lingering for a moment before he spoke.“You know, I hope you can handle yourself tonight.”

His eyes went back on the road, leaving you perplexed from his comment. Did he think you needed babysitting?

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately.” He said, teetering with the edge of criticism before he continued. “Don’t you think you should be a bit more sociable at these events? It’s not a good look to be the quiet one in the corner,”

You frowned at that. You knew that navigating through small talks wasn’t your strongest suit but you didn’t need him to tell you how to act. It felt patronising.

“Are you seriously concerned about that? I always preferred to let my work speak for itself.”

“But this isn’t another day in the office, this is a dinner party,”

“I think I’ll be fine,”

“We’ll see,” There was an edge to his response that made your gut twist.

The car fell quiet between the two of you, with the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional honks from passing cars.

Adam broke the silence again, desperate to kill the awkward tension that he had caused. “So, are you looking forward to the event at least?”

“Yeah, it should be interesting. I don’t think they’ve done anything like this before,”

“You’re right,” he said “It might be the new HR coordinator they hired. Seems like they’re trying to make a good first impression.”

Your destination was coming into view now. The venue where the event was taking place was not too far from the main facility building, making it convenient for the employees that were attending.

It was the company’s 25th anniversary so there were a lot of guests attending, which also meant the car park outside the venue was packed. Adam had to drive around the block— you didn’t miss the annoyed scowl on his face— before he found a decent spot to park.

After killing the engine you both stepped out of the car and made your way to the gate. The entrance was dotted with recessed floor lights, highlighting the pathway along with flowers that adorned the grass area.

You recognised a few of your colleagues from your department. It was refreshing seeing them outside of their work attire and in more festive wear.

Stepping inside, you were first introduced to the complimentary drinks before the main hall that was beautifully decorated. The sound of heels clicking and glass clinking bounced off the walls. The company really went far out to organise this, and you had to admit, you were impressed.

The tension from the car ride still lingered in your mind, but you were determined to make the best of the event, despite the rough start. The buzz in the room helped you forget about your unease.

As you padded further into the room, you spotted a few familiar faces from your department. Jess, one of your closest coworkers and best mentor you’ve had, caught your eye and approached you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey, glad you two could make it,” she greeted you.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Adam replied.

Jess leaned in for a hug, and you returned with air kisses on each cheek. She stepped back to admire your outfit. “You look incredible. That dress looks so good on you, girl.”

A sense of gratitude washed over you at that. “Thanks, Jess.”

“We’ve saved you a space on our table at the back,” she said before you all made a beeline through the throng of people.

As you made your way to your seats, you caught sight of Miguel, your boss, from the corner of your eye. You turned your attention over to him momentarily, while still following Adam and Jess towards the back.

His height and physique naturally drew attention. Or maybe it was the way he had presented himself tonight. You didn’t know what it was that made him seem more alluring.

His outfit wasn’t vastly different from what you would normally see at work. He wore a well-fitted blazer that accentuated his form.

It wasn’t tight enough to show off his bulging muscles overtly, but it wasn’t loose either. A balance of both, maintaining a modest look that still seemed to draw wondering eyes.

Adam pulled out a chair for you, an unexpected show of chivalry, before taking his own seat. You couldn’t help but pick up on his charms and how his mannerism was a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor back in the car.

You and Jess caught up and chatted for a while. You twisted your body so you could fully face her but as you did, your elbow accidentally knocked over a glass of water. If it weren’t for Adam’s quick reflexes and catching it before it tipped over, the water would’ve spilled all over you.

“Careful babe, that would’ve been a disaster,” Adam said with a hint of concern.

You still felt your nerves spiked from the small shock but it was quickly relieved when Adam placed the glass safely away from the edge. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see that glass there,”

He peered at you with an unreadable expression. You had an uncomfortable feeling that he was going to say something condescending but you couldn’t tell.

A sly smile played on his lips. “It’s alright, babe. Hey, do you remember when you spilled coffee all over the table during your interview?”

You felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. That was a moment you would rather forget, especially in front of the people you work with every day.

You noticed a few of your colleagues at the dinner table glancing over at you. Their eyes felt like lasers, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them.

“Did she really do that?” You heard one of them asked, you didn’t want to find out who.

You felt a hint of irritation that they didn’t address the question directly at you. It was as if you were invisible, a subject of gossip.

Adam let out a chuckle before he said, “Yeah, I’m surprised she even got the job after that. If it were me, I would’ve been too embarrassed to show my face again,”

You could feel multiple eyes on you as Adam recounted the story. This wasn’t something that you would like to share with anyone else, so you didn’t understand why Adam was telling everyone as if he were sharing an amusing anecdote. It felt like betrayal.

It had taken you a while for you to open up to Adam enough for you to share some embarrassing stories like that. Knowing that he was going to share them like an open book so casually felt like an icy grip around your throat.

Despite your silence and reluctance to look at everyone, Adam seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Either he was ignoring you, or was blinded by his bravado to even notice. Jess managed to see your change in demeanor and how quiet you were all of a sudden.

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” she suggested, placing a hand on your shoulder as a silent comfort. Everyone seemed to agree and the conversation steered away from the topic of you.

As the evening progressed, you managed to emerge out of your shell again from your previous embarrassment. You engaged in light conversations with your colleagues, though you found yourself listening more than talking.

Throughout the interactions, you didn’t notice a familiar pair of eyes that was observing you from afar and picking up on all of your body language silently.

The food served was exquisite and left everyone more than satisfied. Between courses, the CEO took the stage to give a speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication throughout the years.

A loud round of applause erupted in the room, accompanied by smiles from everyone. You could feel the sense of unity and camaraderie in the room.

Dinner was followed by an open bar, which meant more mingling. There were more guests now after dinner than there were when you arrived, so the room felt more confined and bustling.

The mixture of alcohol and perfume smelled like an intoxicating fume. Adam effortlessly moved around from one group of people to another, his presence was booming with flamboyance wherever he went.

He was able to attract people’s interest with his bold body language and confident speech.

You, on the other hand, focused on the small group you were sitting with. You decided to stay at the table, enjoying the conversation and occasionally chiming in with your input.

As you were lost in the office gossip that everyone was exchanging, Adam approached your table with a drink in hand. He leaned in to kiss your cheek before he took a seat next to you.

You didn’t miss the looks that some of your female colleagues flashed at you both. You couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, but it definitely sent a prickly sensation through you. How charming…

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, his tone casual and calmer now.

“Yeah, it’s nice catching up with everyone,” you shifted wearily in your seat.

Adam’s gaze locked onto you as you took another sip from your drink. His stare felt like poking needles and you could tell that he was going to say something.

“You might want to be careful there, babe. Remember the incident last time…”

“Adam please,”

“…you threw up on the sidewalk? You’re lucky no one else was around to see you,”

Your grip around the glass tightened and you wanted to plummet through the floor. You started to wonder if his bold personality and ability to entertain people in a conversation came at the expense of embarrassing others for some laughs.

Being the ass of the joke.

Did he feed off of the attention? Was that why he kept doing this? You noticed no one was laughing. Some gave you sympathetic looks, while others felt awkward.

Adam took this opportunity to add on to the story, his voice resounding with pride. “And I had to carry her home. I felt like a hero that day,”

You forced a smile to try and disguise your discomfort that flickered in your eyes. At this point you didn’t know how to respond or act. But the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, especially over a comment.

You waited until the subject of the conversation changed again so you didn’t look suspicious before you rose from your seat.

“I’ll be back,” you said as you took a few steps away, excusing yourself from the group. “Just need to freshen up,”

You left the bar and made your way to the end of the room. There was the dreadful feeling that everyone in the room was staring at you as you swiftly manoeuvred past them. The desire to escape the room intensified with each step.

Finally, you reached the door to the patio and stepped outside. Thankfully, there were only a few people scattered around, making it easier to uncoil the tension that built up inside you.

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the fresh air — a relief from the stuffiness inside. Even with the different environment and open space, you still felt the modification catching up to you.

“Is he always like that?” A sudden, familiar rich voice pulled you out of your misery.

You turned to see Miguel standing a few steps behind you. “What?”

He looked striking now that you were up close to him, with the soft glow of the patio light highlighting his features.

His expression was serious when he said “Your boyfriend, Adam. Does he always treat you like that?”

You blinked, swallowing thickly before you spoke. “Oh…yeah. He just has a habit of making jokes like that. It’s just his humor,”

“Interesting sense of humour he has, making you the punchline every time,” he paused, his gaze drifting towards the clear night sky before returning to you. “I find it amusing that you’ve gotten used to being treated like that,”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend…I shouldn’t be—”

“You know, being someone’s boyfriend doesn’t give him the excuse to humiliate you. Why do you keep defending him like this?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know why you kept making excuses for him. Maybe it was easier to downplay the situation than confront reality. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t that serious in the first place— or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“He’s not always like this. He’s supportive in other ways. But he does get carried away sometimes,”

“Supportive? Do you mean when he points out your mistakes in front of everyone?” He arched his brow, obviously skeptical.

His words shook you but you had to admit, you didn’t believe your own words, especially after tonight.

“I don’t want to seem too sensitive. I’ve been with him for so long. It’s hard to think about leaving him…”

“Don’t let history keep you in place. You shouldn’t lower your standards just because he’s your boyfriend,”

There was a pause that hung between the two of you. The chilling air was nipping at your bare arms now but you didn’t want to step back inside.

The muffled chaos that you could still hear was enough to make your brain melt. You turned to look at the door that led back inside the bar, a sickening feeling churned inside your stomach.

“I don’t want to go back in there yet,” you admitted.

“Then don’t.” He followed your line of sight before he looked back at you. “We can stay out here for as long as you need to,”

You didn’t speak again after that. Your mind seemed to drift to the facility building that wasn’t far from here. The thought of a quiet secluded space was becoming increasingly appealing now.

You noticed the flicker of curiosity that crossed Miguel’s face as you looked far ahead before realisation gradually dawned on him. He seemed to pick up on your gaze and spoke your mind for you.

“You know, my office isn’t far from here,” he commented, voice boarding a suggestive tone.

“Yeah…I know,”

“Why don’t we head there instead? We can stay there as long as you want without being interrupted,”

“I don’t know…” You knew you didn’t want to be here anymore, but you couldn’t just leave, especially unannounced.

“There’s no one there at this time, and it’s quieter than this place,”

The offer was tempting, but what would Adam say? “I can’t leave Adam here,”

“You still think you need to be with him?” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping closer towards you. “Let him fend for himself for a while. I could tell you weren’t having a good time in there,”

You thought about it for a moment. What was the harm in stepping out for a little while? Adam couldn’t say anything if he didn’t know, right? You did owe it to yourself after everything that had happened, after all.

“Alright,” you agreed. Before you knew it, you were walking towards the car park and stepped into Miguel’s car and on your way. It didn’t take long until you arrived outside the familiar surroundings of the establishment.

The slick glass exterior of the building stood out in the night. During the day, it would be bustling with people coming in and out through the revolving doors.

Now, it was quiet and not a sound could be heard. But even if the building wasn’t running its usual course, there were still some occupants inside with a few of the lights on.

As you made your way inside to Miguel’s office, there was a comfortable silence. Miguel’s presence felt like a calming anchor in the sea of your anxiety.

Once you made it outside his office, Miguel held the door for you to step in. “After you,”

Miguel flickered the lights on before closing the door with a click, sealing off the blaring noise of the outside world. “It’s quieter here. You can take a breath,”

His office gave a different aura at night compared to what you were used to in the day time. The windows that provided a stunning view of Nueva York twinkled with the city lights. You couldn’t help but stare out in awe.

You turned back to look at him and he handed you a water bottle. “Thank you, Miguel,”

The condensation of the water bottle felt cool against the pad of your fingers.

By now the alcohol was settling in your bloodstream, creating a gentle warmth that radiated in your chest. You felt like you were floating as you walked over to take a seat on one of the plush chairs.

You were starting to notice that the alcohol made you forget about Adam and his concerns about your whereabouts and what he might think or say.

You cracked open the bottle and took a small sip, the cold water tickling your throat.

“So, how have you been handling things lately?” Miguel asked, taking a seat on his usual office chair.

You were grateful the topic wasn’t centered around Adam anymore. You didn’t want to linger on the sting of his words and actions from earlier.

“Well, I’ve been working on that new project proposal so that has been consuming most of my time,”

“I’ve noticed your dedication and your work on the proposal has been impressive so far,” Miguel’s voice carried a note of genuine admiration.

“Thank you…it means a lot hearing that from you,” you replied. You felt a sudden tingling sensation coarse through you and you knew it had nothing to do with being under the influence.

It was a mystery to you but Miguel’s compliments seemed to resonate with you, making your heart quicken slightly. You didn’t feel this type of effect with Adam, not even at the start of your relationship.

Miguel gave a small nod, his eyes studying your keen interest. “I’ve noticed you prefer working alone rather than in a team. You seem more comfortable that way,”

You were taken back slightly by the subject change. Where was he going with this?

“I guess I do. Sometimes it’s easier to focus that way,”

“It’s important to have people who support you. Do you have someone like that?”

Despite trying your best not to think about it, the question pulled your mind back to Adam. After all, he was supposed to be your support system, the first person you go to. “I thought I did but I’m not so sure now,”

You didn’t know what you were expecting after tonight. Miguel seemed to pick up on who exactly you were thinking about.

“How do you really feel about you and Adam?” He asked.

You recalled the conversation before you left the house for the party, when you were still getting ready. You still remembered putting on the lipstick and how you thought you looked good before Adam’s remark.

That wasn’t the first time he had put you down like that when your confidence was at your high. Did he feel threatened by your self-assurance?

“Well, he’s always been charming but recently he’s been more…critical, especially in front of others. I don’t know where this change of character came from.”

As you spoke, you felt yourself unraveling all of your true inner thoughts about Adam now— one’s that you tried so hard to push away just to salvage your relationship.

Perhaps some liquid encouragement and having the right person to talk to was needed for you to loosen your tongue and finally admit all of this.

“Sometimes, people reveal their true colours under pressure,”

You pondered that. Maybe Adam was trying to fit in and had some unresolved issues. Whatever it was, that didn’t justify his actions and the way he treated you.

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of conflicted emotions. “It has been a lot to handle tonight. I never expected him to be so cruel. Part of me wants to stay and fix things, but at the same time….I want something more,”

You didn’t know why it took you this long to finally confess it but now that you did, the air left lighter.

“You deserve something more.” Miguel said softly. His words, though simple, charged with meaning and something more. Affection?

You were so lost in a trance when opening up your emotions, you haven’t realised the close proximity between the two of you. Close enough to capture the faint smell of his sweet musk.

It made you wonder if he was talking about something beyond your professional ambitions. Miguel leaned closer— either he was studying your expressions or memorising your features.

However the moment was cut short when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse, shattering the fragility in the room and yanking you back to reality. Startled by the sudden noise, you fumbled in your purse to retrieve your phone.

You felt bile creeping up your throat when you saw Adam’s name on the notification. The text was short but jarring.

‘Where are you? We need to talk’

Shit…

Adam needs to get decked ‼️

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @cl3stevu @tarjapearce (GIRL I GOT INSPIRED BY YOUR TENTATEUR FIC OMLL) @lazyjellyfish300 @kavimoo @laysmt

@mybvalentine @boringpersonality @mun-2996 @leshasnolife @slut4oscarissac23

I was originally going to add smut to this but it didn’t feel right. Especially the position that reader is in here. If this does end well, I MIGHT do a part 2 where she finally ends things with Adam and smut

Ayrus xoxo

[bubblebbg]

❝𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

Mizu x Reader

- Reader in this fic is of some sort of mixed or foreign descent, but this can also be interpreted as having any trait that would make them a pariah of sorts. Warning, not proofread lol. All spur of the moment.

When you found the blue eyed stranger laying bloody on a lonely street, you took her in. You keep her warm, fed, and with mends on her wounds. Mizu knows well that there are sacrifices to be made on her path. She doesn't know just how much they can sting.

Mizu can't quite pinpoint the most irritating part of the pain. The ache of broken bones, the sting of stabs and slices, the consistent ringing in her head; everything hurts, and she supposes that like every other injury, it's all par for the course. Small price to pay for revenge. She knew she'd have to rest at some point, but she didn't expect to be incapacitated, edging on consciousness for days. Every now and then there's a sensation like coolness on her forehead, or water at her lips.

It's on day three that she becomes lucid enough to realize someone's taking care of her. Her distrustful brain is immediately sounding alarms, but her body can do little to react in such a broken state. Mizu can do nothing but lie silent and weak on this futon, sipping medicines and soups when it's brought to her mouth and being patched, cut for cut, wound for wound.

The first thing she notices about you, her caretaker, is your eyes - eyes brimming with concern and care, eyes that catch every weakness of her flesh and seek to heal. She hears your whispers of "poor thing" and "I'll get you healed up in no time". And being Mizu, her first thought is...

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she doesn't rush to take it back. Why are you, a stranger, so willing to take care of her? Why are you expending your resources on a broken thing, a mistake that any other sane person would let rot in the street where they found it?

You only smile at her, and in such a way that makes her heart race. Gentle, patient, tentative. She doesn't like it one bit, the way it pulls at doors she's kept locked for years. Her eyes focus, taking in what you look like as you stand and ready yourself to leave the room.

"I don't need your pity!" She manages to choke out. It has you stopping in your tracks.

"It's," she coughs, sputtering on words, "It's because you're just like me, isn't it? You're different. A monster."

The look on your face is one of mild amusement, an eyebrow raised and the corners of your lips upturned. She's not sure if it's that or the confidence in your next words that makes her cheeks heat up.

"I am not a monster. Neither are you."

And you're gone, leaving her to deal with the weight you've left in her chest.

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. With so many parts impaired, it'd only make sense that healing would take this long. Most of all, it's your endless patience that surprises Mizu. When she reopens a wound by carelessly trying to train despite your cautions, you're there patching it up. When she expresses her frustration with not being able to take up the sword yet, you're there reassuring her that it'll all be fine in time. You're kind when she's haughty and sarcastic (which makes her feel guilty, and thus even more indignant), and this extends to others as well. She often sees you helping children or neighbors, anyone in need. You're loved in this town.

It makes her a bit irritated, seeing your kindness bestowed on others. At first she thinks it's because she sees weakness in your actions. Then she thinks it's jealousy - why are you, someone who would otherwise be an outcast like herself, so beloved by your town? How come it didn't turn out this way for her? But when she sees you cooking enough for the both of you and the family next door, stirring slowly as the food steams, she thinks to herself, god, they're even patient when they're cooking. And then it hits her.

She is jealous, but not in the way she thought. In the way that yearns for your priority, that seeks to be the only recipient of your sweet manners and loving nature.

It doesn't help that you've grown close, too close for her liking. There have been nights spent in each other's company, saying nothing but gazing at stars. There have been conversations in which you've both laughed, some in which you cried. Mizu's mind can't help but remind her that this isn't safe; the last time she opened her heart up, it returned battered.

But this - you - feel safe. You dedicated nearly three months to healing her body, all the while you had been patching up wounds the eye can't see.

"I'm leaving," she says meekly on a warm evening, the two of you sat in a field of grass overlooking your village. You look to her and she only stares forward. You suppose it's better than her leaving without telling you, but the pain is no lesser because of the thought.

You take a deep breath and exhale before answering, "I had a feeling."

There's a long silence between the two of you. It's your turn to watch the sun setting over the trees as Mizu looks at your expression, the hints of sadness in her eyes.

"Do you... do you really have to? You are welcome here, you know. You'll always have a home here with me."

The words have Mizu choking up and suppressing the sudden and unnerving urge to cry. What you've done to her in three months still astounds her.

"I do. You know I do. I was always going to have to leave."

Mizu is caught by another urge, the urge to take those words back when she sees streams on your cheeks. You sniffle and hiccup, and it's so much less pleasant than your usual smiling disposition. It hurts in the way no blade ever could.

The sun is disappearing, and she wills herself to stand. If she doesn't, she might never go. She turns to leave and you stand as well. She stops in her tracks when you tug on her sleeve. She faces you and you slowly, carefully bring a hand to the side of her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, you lean in close. Your lips meet in a kiss that conveys words that neither of you have the power to say.

You pull back after a moment, your forehead pressed to hers and your eyes closed. Your voice is quiet, almost inaudible when you say your goodbye.

"Break my heart once by leaving. Do not break it again by dying."

She turns and leaves while your eyes are still closed. You open them to an empty field, your palm still wet with her tears.

[twstowo]

True Love Kiss But He Isn't The One [Housewardens+Jamil]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: You have fallen under a sleeping spell and only a kiss of true love can break it, he kisses you but you don’t wake up.

♡︎ Since I love angst I decided to write this

♡︎ I’m adding Jamil because this fits him so much not because im biased or anything like that

♡︎Warning: Angst, blood in Jamil’s part, Malleus is kinda yandere

♡︎Second part

⋆⋅☆Riddle

His gaze holds a pained expression as he watches you. Not seeing any reaction after kissing you, he waits, hoping the spell might take time to break. But as minutes pass, his heart beats fast, aching painfully as he begins fearing the worst—that he might not be the one you love. His head bows, fighting back tears.

You were his first love, someone who made him feel like no one else ever had. To him, you meant everything. Even if he's not the one, he stays by your side, tending to you. He refuses to let anyone else kiss you, unwilling to discover who your true love might be. Instead, he focuses on finding a potion or magical spell that could awaken you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Leona

He broke the lamp next to your bed. Consumed by heartbreak and rage, he couldn't control his emotions. Was it all a way to win his favor? Did you only care about his money? Did he hold no significance to you, despite your importance to him? Storming out of the room, he leaves you to your fate, vowing never to return. Someone else will need to assist you. He fears that if he ever lays eyes on you again, he might commit the gravest mistake of his life—doing something to make you despise him forever.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Azul

He can't bring himself to look at you. He even kissed you twice, feeling devastated after seeing you not wake up from the first kiss. How could you do this to him? You made him feel so relaxed and open, sharing his deepest, darkest secrets that he wouldn't tell anyone else, only for him to realize he might not hold your heart. He isn't angry at you, he's angry at himself. He's not as great as he envisions himself to be, and you knew it. You'd always seen through his fake smiles.

He doesn't return to see you, but even after such heartbreak, his heart still belongs to you. He prepares a potion to break the spell. However, don't expect anything more from him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Kalim

He can't hold back his tears, convinced that something's amiss with the spell and that you truly love him. Jamil has to take him out of the room otherwise, he'd stay there until he witnesses you waking up. Thoughts of you consume him, he's willing to spare all his money for a potion that could awaken you. Even after you awaken, he won't leave your side. Despite knowing you may not reciprocate his feelings, he's determined to be there for you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jamil

He's utterly disappointed in himself, feeling ashamed for even thinking that kissing you would alter anything. How foolish he was, how naive... He bites his lip so hard that blood drips onto the floor, his gaze fixed on your peaceful expression. He contemplates his love for you and the folly of ever hoping for your reciprocation. Storming out of the room, he's relieved no one saw him entering. You'll never discover that he had been there. You didn’t need to know how much he liked you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Vil

Vil handles this situation better than anyone else, he comprehends that your feelings for him don't mirror his own, and he's accepting of that. He seeks another way to awaken you, and when you regain consciousness, he'll be there to support you. Even though he didn't capture your heart before the spell, he's determined that he can certainly do so after.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Idia

He locks himself inside his room, crying inconsolably. Not even Ortho can take him out. When he discovers that you're finally awake, he avoids learning how it happened, unwilling to entertain the possibility that someone other than him might have kissed you. Mustering all his courage to give you a kiss was a testament to his genuine love for you, a feeling that still lingers within him. He doesn’t know what to do with these emotions.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Malleus

He truly believed that the two of you were destined for each other. The way you made him experience such unfamiliar emotions, feeling wanted and less lonely, all the hours spent talking, the gentle touches, and the enamored looks he'd give you—it had all been one-sided. He gazes at your sleeping face, knowing he possesses the power to wake you up with a spell. Yet, he hesitates. What if he awakens you, and you run to someone else instead of him? The mere thought is unbearable to him.

[imagineaworld]

stray shadow 🗡️ azriel

summary: azriel loses a shadow, only for it to lead him straight to you

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public place (kinda), dirty talk, swearing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 1.5k

Azriel seemed to have lost one of his shadows.

He had been too busy observing the crowd for potential threats to notice the shadow sneak off somewhere. After deciding there were no current threats amongst the crowd gathered in the Court of Nightmares, he slipped off in search of the stray.

Following the gentle tug that was beckoning him to the other side of the cavernous hall, he kept to the outskirts to avoid the mass of bodies talking, dancing and drinking.

As the tug grew stronger, he wondered curiously where his shadow was leading him. Had it sensed a threat that even he hadn't spotted? It seemed unlikely, but not impossible.

Eventually, he approached a small crowd loitering by the table littered with glasses and flutes of wine and champagne. His shadow was close, he could sense it. He scanned the small group, seeking the familiar darkness of his shadows.

There. He spotted it; slinked around a high-heeled ankle. His eyes trailed upwards, following the exposed bare leg, continuing up a gossamer-clad torso, a plunging neckline, a long slender neck, before settling on the face of the most beautiful female he had ever seen.

-

You hadn't noticed it at first. The soft brush had just felt like the fabric of your dress sweeping against your ankle. But when you looked down, you noticed a black shadow slowly wrapping itself around your ankle. It tickled, pulling a smile from you as you watched it wend its way up your leg, exposed through the slit in your dress.

Curiously, you reached down to touch it as it skated your thigh. In answer, it wrapped itself around your fingers. Bringing your hand closer to your face, you watched in wonder as it danced in between your fingers.

You were so distracted by the shadow that you didn't notice the owner of the shadow approach until he spoke.

-

"They seem to like you."

It was the only thing Azriel could think to say as he watched you smile at the shadow flitting around in your hand. All thoughts had left his mind, the sight rendering him speechless for a few seconds.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up. Your eyes locked onto his, amusement dancing in them. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Lose something?" You spoke, your voice like caramel.

Struck dumb, Azriel could only watch as you gently flicked his shadow in his direction, returning it to him. Reluctantly, the shadow rejoined the mass swirling around his feet. Az realised he should say something.

"I apologise for disturbing you," he managed. "I usually have them under control, but they're feeling rebellious today."

You laughed, and it was the single greatest sound he has ever heard. Azriel couldn't contain his own smile, self-consciously rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"Should I be concerned about drawing their attention?" You inquired playfully.

Az chuckled. "No, not unless you plan on causing trouble."

Something like mischief sparked in your eyes. "Oh, I always plan on causing trouble."

Gods, save him.

You extended a hand and introduced yourself.

"Azriel." He said, his scarred hand clasping yours as he suppressed his disgust at marring you with his touch.

You repeated his name, just a murmur, but loud enough for him to hear. Perhaps he had been wrong, it was not your laugh that was the greatest sound he had ever heard, but the sound of his name of your lips.

-

You weren't quite sure how you were playing it so cool. The male standing before you was quite simply the most handsome male you had ever seen. Talking to males never normally intimidated you, but you felt the need to leave a lasting impression on this one.

Just the touch of his hand on yours had sent tingles down your spine. The feeling was unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. It was safe to say, for the first time in your life, you were out of your depth.

The musicians began playing a tune that had hoards of people flocking to the dance floor.

"Well, Azriel," you began, holding out your hand. "Do you or your shadows dance?"

Wordlessly, with a glint in his eyes, Azriel took your hand and led you out into the crowd of couples on the dance floor.

Az took the lead in the dance with a newfound confidence. You placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles beneath his jacket. His large hand on your waist felt equally as strong, but he held you at a respectable distance.

As if unhappy with the distance between you, his shadows reached for you. They pulled you in closer, wrapping round the two of you as you moved gracefully on the dance floor.

You huffed a laugh, your breasts now flush against Azriel's broad chest. "They're definitely rebellious."

Az only grunted in response, as though words were beyond him.

Looking up at him as he towered over you, you bit your lip, anxious that your closeness had made him uncomfortable.

He was already looking down at you when your eyes met his, dark with lust. "Don't look at me like that." He ground out.

"Why not?" You challenged, your own newfound confidence coming through at the realisation he was growing hard beneath you as your bodies pressed together.

He growled lowly. "Drives me crazy."

His gravelly voice went straight to your core, and as his eyes darkened further, you knew he could scent your arousal. Refusing to blush, you held his gaze and he inhaled, a restrained groan building in his throat.

"You smell divine."

You bit your lip again. "Why don't you find out how I taste?"

You refused to break Azriel's gaze, which had turned feral at your words. In that gaze, you could see an internal battle between desire and logic. 

"Offer's on the table," you told him. "No strings."

Azriel whirled around, leading you by your joint hands to the nearest exit. Once outside the hall, your heels clicked on the stone as he led you down a handful of dim corridors. He stopped beside an alcove, pushing you in with his body. The alcove was just big enough for the two of you, his shadows blocking you from sight of any stray passers-by.  

Not wasting any time, Az connected his mouth to yours in the most sensous kiss you had ever experienced. You leaned into the kiss and tangled your fingers into Azriel's hair, drawing a low groan from the back of his throat.

He trailed kisses from your mouth down your neck, sucking and nipping with his teeth. You let out a breathy moan as his teeth grazed over your nipple, the fabric of your dress pushed aside.

Through the slit in your dress, Azriel stroked your thigh, higher and higher until he reached where your underwear should have been.

"No panties?" He growled. "You really are looking for trouble."

His fingers toyed with your pussy, gathering up the slick before sliding one finger inside.

"Azriel." You breathed, the sensation overwhelming you.

He moved his finger in and out of you, curling it just right as he added another. 

"Feel so good round my fingers, baby," he praised, watching as you started to unravel. "Let's find out how you taste."

He dropped to his knees before you, gathering the fabric of your dress and bunching it round your hips. The scent of your arousal and the feeling of your slick had hardened his cock beneath his trousers. He licked a long, slow line along your pussy, teasing you.

"Please," you begged.

"So needy," he taunted. You could hear the smugness in his voice. Putting you out of your misery, he pressed his mouth to your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked, sucked, nipped at you, all the while sliding his fingers in and out.

You moaned his name, fingers tugging at strands of his hair. He growled at the sensation, which reverberated against your clit. You felt your release building.

"Fuck, you taste so good," his voice full of lust. "You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Fuck, don't stop."

Obliging, he picked up the pace of his fingers, and focused his mouth on your clit. Your moans were obcene as you came, his name spilling out of you for all to hear. Azriel only slowed his pace once your pussy had stopped clenching round his fingers.

He looked up at you with a devilish grin, lips wet with your slick. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, raising them to his lips taste you again. 

He raised up to his full height, towering over you. His hair a tussled mess, his eyes still dark with lust. "Until next time," he said, and vanished off, taking his shadows with him.

The sound of you moaning his name, the taste of you on his tongue, they lingered for hours. He thought about it - about you for the rest of the evening. Later that night, he fucked his fist and came at the thought of you.

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Hi! Do you think you can write something for Donatello? Maybe the reader wakes up and he's in bed for once and its very soft

Serenity | Donatello

hi! of course i can! you didn't specify what version of donnie you wanted so i went with bayverse because i'm kind of on a roll with that iteration atm so... also there is a severe lack of bayverse donnie gifs

warnings: nothing really. suggestive? subtle morse code that isn't explicitly mentioned... which isn't a warning unless you consider morse code scandalous? everyone is 18+!!! also there's like no proofreading so reading is always at your own risk but if you ever notice any, please do point out any spelling/grammar etc. errors!

summary: you wake up before donnie who's actually in bed (it's a miracle)

word count: 859

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first thing you hear is the distant whirring of technology. You don’t bother to open your eyes as you shift your hips ever so slightly to seek a more comfortable position now that you’re slowly gaining consciousness. Pausing your lethargic movements, you become keenly aware of the heavy and solid weight curled around you that most definitely hadn’t been there when you first fell asleep. You breathe in deep. A musty scent of oil and sweat and something you’re sure isn’t pleasant hits you. It’s so him that you don’t even wrinkle your nose. Instead, you reach out a hand and find his skin.

You can feel him breathing like this. It’s slow and steady and your heart feels like bursting. You press closer and your lips smile against the swell of his arm. A few soft kisses won’t wake him, you decide, pressing them gently over his scales. He doesn’t stir as you link your fingers with his. His arm is heavy with muscle, but you manage to lift the dead weight to your mouth, breathing the softest of kisses all over the flesh. It’s so different and so much bigger than your own but your hands fit together perfectly. You open your eyes, only a little blearily, and you imagine the silliest heart emojis that replace them as you stare in quiet reverence.

He’s so perfect it hurts. He’s snoring quietly, more of a whistle really, and his mouth is open with his glasses askew. He looks so cosy and dorky and unbelievably Donnie that you have to stifle a lovesick giggle. He looks both serene and tired at the same time and you can’t believe he actually came to bed of his own volition. Getting him to bed is a Herculean effort at the best of times, for him to sleep – in an actual bed – without your nagging insistence and underhand tricks is nothing short of a miracle. He’s still wearing his suspenders too and you think, a little wryly, that perhaps he was more tired than even he realised.

Your hand cups his face and you rub your thumb over his jaw, in awe at the man beneath your palm and feeling a little silly over how emotional you're being. His face twitches and you pause your ministrations, holding your breath. You don’t want to wake him; he must’ve been exhausted and you’re not sure how long he’s been asleep beside you. He continues to sleep, and you breathe again, this time pressing your lips to his neck. 

I love you, you mouth against his skin. I love you so much. He must feel it, whether he feels you physically or as deep in his being as you feel him, because he churrs softly and it makes your eyes burn. God, you’re so in love. You’ve been in love with him for so long you can’t remember what it felt like before he came into your life. You’re not really sure what’s coming over you this morning (is it morning? It’s not like you can see the sunrise like this) but as your lips tremble you find that you don’t mind. Donnie deserves to be loved like this, wholly and reverently, and you vow, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, to love him like this forever. 

You’re not sure how long you stay like that. The position isn’t the most comfortable and you can feel the pain in your neck that runs along your spine, but you can’t bring yourself to move. You want this moment to last as long as it possibly can and you’re thankful that the Lair is peaceful for once. There are no noises to indicate any of the others are up and you hope it stays that way, just for a while longer.

Your wish is almost immediately denied as you hear a crash and brazen laughter that can only belong to Mikey (followed, of course, by an annoyed bellow that can only belong to Raph) and you can’t help the quiet snort even as the turtle beside you is disturbed from his slumber.

Donnie shifts and his snout is buried in your neck as he inhales, and you’re only given a few seconds to mourn the loss of his sleeping state (he really needs to sleep more) before he kisses your fluttering pulse, and you sigh in pleasure. His hand – the one you’re not keeping hostage still – grips your bare thigh and you push yourself closer as his teeth graze the sensitive skin along the column of your throat. He doesn’t speak, choosing instead to tap a message along your skin as his hands caress upwards. I love you too.

You smile so wide it hurts your jaw. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, your voice thick and huskier than usual. He just brings his teeth together again, leaving little teasing bites, and taps your inner thigh once more. You shudder slightly and acquiesce his request, spreading your legs further for him and letting him rub higher and higher.

The two of you stay in bed until the afternoon.

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 05

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

In the City of Angels, Y/N awoke to the gentle caress of the morning sun peeping through the open curtains of Natalie’s apartment blinds. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, waking up and shaking off the last bits of sleepiness.

As consciousness gradually flooded back to her, the memories of the night before began to resurface. The concert, her unexpected encounter with Harry, and the late-night heart-to-heart with her friends Natalie and Maia had all been overwhelming, to say the least. 

However, now, as the bright daylight filled the room, it all felt like a surreal dream, leaving her questioning the reality of the previous night's experiences.

The three girls were sprawled on the bedroom’s king-sized bed, Natalie curled up on one side of the bed –opposite to Y/N– and Maia, laid in the middle of both, her phone in her hands as she scrolled through her notifications.

The remnants of their sleepover –blankets askew, teacups littering the nightstands– were painting a comforting picture to the intimacy they had shared, the hours spent talking about Y/N's tangled history with Harry.

After their late-night chat at the apartment, Y/N felt the weight of their conversation on her heart like a heavy blanket. She had bared her soul, sharing everything from the thrill of their love to the quiet happiness they once shared and the lingering pain of their breakup. 

Talking about her past with Harry out loud had been a weird mix of relief and vulnerability. It was like the words themselves had dug up buried emotions, setting off a whole new emotional rollercoaster.

“Good morning,” Natalie softly said, her voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Tired. Definitely tired. And... I don't know... overwhelmed, I guess?" It was an understatement, but the crazy mix of shock, excitement, and a fear that wouldn't go away was overwhelming and hard to put into words

A light groan escaped Y/N's lips as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The world tilted slightly before finding its balance again. Exhaustion pulled at her body as if she'd run a marathon in her sleep. She closed her eyes, hoping for a moment's respite before facing the day.

"You sure you're okay?" Maia's voice was laced with genuine concern. "You look a little...off."

Natalie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, do you want to eat something? I can cook breakfast for the three of us, maybe even brew some coffee."

Y/N rubbed her temples, the dull ache intensifying into a persistent throb. "I just need...a few minutes," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.  

The bathroom seemed like a sanctuary, a place to gather her scattered thoughts and seek respite from the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours. As she stumbled across the room, the cool tile beneath her bare feet provided a grounding sensation.

When she shut the bathroom door, her reflection in the mirror was like a reminder of how tough the night was for her. Her eyes were like, puffy and dull, not the sparkly ones she used to have. There were dark circles under her eyes from not sleeping well, thinking about the past and stressing about the future. Even her skin didn't look as good as it usually does, like it had lost all its color.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Y/N mumbled to her reflection, a flicker of wry humor surfacing despite her exhaustion. It was true. In a way, she had seen a ghost –the ghost of her past– and it had shaken her to her core. 

As she splashed her face with cold water, the icy shock briefly reviving her senses, Y/N couldn't help but think about the surreal twist of fate that brought her face to face with Harry. 

His presence, his touch...it had felt like a jolt to the heart, a reminder of the past they shared. And now, even as she tried to process it all, the memory of their late-night conversation in the bathroom replayed in her mind.

A knock startled her back to the present. "Y/N?" Maia's voice, laced with a hint of worry, echoed through the door. "Are you alright in there?"

Y/N dried her face, smoothing a trembling hand over her hair in a futile attempt to reclaim a semblance of composure. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a minute."

She unlocked the door, trying to school her expression into something resembling normalcy as she faced her concerned friends.  However, their gazes lingered on her reflection in the bathroom mirror, mirroring her own observations of her exhausted appearance.

Natalie, ever the mother hen, gently guided her back towards the bed.  "C'mon, rest for a little bit more. You seriously look like you could use it.”

Y/N let herself be tucked back into bed, the soft sheets a comforting embrace against her battered emotions and aching body. Yet, as Natalie and Maia perched on either side of her, a wave of resistance flickered within her.

"Guys, it's okay, really," she insisted, a hint of defiance in her smile. "I know I look a mess, but I'm alright." She knew they were just looking out for her, but the concerned looks and gentle coaxing brought an unexpected feeling of being coddled.

"We just worry," Maia admitted softly. "It was a crazy night for you."

"Crazy is an understatement," Natalie said, and took a deep breath before talking again, "And I think it's better you discover this news from us than the moment you touch your phone. The whole internet is going crazy about you."

Y/N's eyes widened, sitting up on the bed, both of her friends following, "The internet? Wait, what are you talking about?"

Maia and Natalie exchanged concerned glances. "Nat, maybe it's better if…" Maia's voice trailed off, her gaze meeting Y/N's confused expression.

Natalie sighed. "Okay, look, Y/N… You know that Tiktok I took and posted last night? It kinda, sorta…"

"Went viral," Maia finished, unable to suppress a nervous giggle.

Y/N sat up, her heart pounding. "Viral? As in, more than a few likes viral?"

Natalie pulled out her phone, sighing. "Try two million views and counting. People are freaking out about the pretty, mystery girl in the crowd that Harry wouldn't stop looking at."

Maia chimed in, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and concern. “The thing is, many people had posted –from different perspectives– how Harry wouldn’t stop looking at a girl with a green and black outfit at the pit. And, apparently, my video appeared on their for you pages, and saw the girl with that same outfit, and they put two and two together..”

Her voice trailed off as Natalie scrolled through her phone, a frown deepening on her face. "And now there's a comment on my tiktok about a girl that saw you –us– walking backstage last night… And then someone went to your profile and found all your socials, and dug up an old photo dump you posted back in 2021 on Instagram…you know, the one with a sunset?”

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. The photo. The one with Harry's hand barely visible in the corner. 

Back then, she had asked him if it was okay to post it, and he had said that it was, assuring her that there was no way somebody would know it was him. It was the last picture in the photo dump, and his hand was in the dark corner of it.

But they had been proven wrong.

Her stomach churned, and the bedroom felt like it was spinning.

"That's how they're going to figure it out," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "They're going to know it's me, and then… they're going to go after him."

The weight of realization crashed down on her. This wasn't just a surprise encounter anymore. This was her carefully hidden past about to burst out into the harsh spotlight, threatening to upend her quiet life and unravel the secrets they'd gone to great lengths to protect.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not just his reaction, but the onslaught he was about to face. His career, built with such care and dedication, was suddenly teetering on the edge. The fans, who loved him unconditionally, were about to discover a chapter of his life he had intentionally kept hidden.  Her heart twisted with a pang of guilt, it was her past that was about to disrupt his world once again.

The specter of Harry's fans, his loyal and fiercely protective Harries, loomed large in her mind. Their passion for him was legendary, and the thought of them –along with the media– turning on him because of their shared past was almost unbearable. The online world could be a cruel place, and the toxicity it could spew was enough to make her nauseous. 

A wave of despair washed over her. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her phone, the source of this impending chaos. It felt like a ticking time bomb, Each notification likely included a countdown toward disaster.

Maia, her eyes wide with concern, reached out tentatively. "Y/N, are you alright?"

Natalie, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, but her voice was softer than usual. “Do you want us to... handle the phone stuff for a while? Block comments, report stuff, turn your account private?"

Their kindness threatened to break the dam of Y/N's composure. She blinked back tears, her voice thick, "I...I don't know what to do.”

Maia sat next to her on the bathroom floor, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of silent support. "Hey, we'll figure this out. Together."

Natalie moved into action, her practicality a grounding force amidst the swirling emotions. "Coffee? I think we all need a strong cup right now." Standing up, she extended a hand to Y/N. "Come on, let's get out of this bedroom. We can strategize over caffeine."

A shaky nod was Y/N's only response.  Letting Natalie pull her to her feet, she stumbled out of the bedroom like a sleepwalker, the world a blur around her.  The two girls led her to the living room couch, where she collapsed, the exhaustion and emotional whiplash taking their toll.

Maia perched on the coffee table in front of her, her eyes filled with concern. "You look like you could use a blanket," she said softly, draping a cozy throw over Y/N's shoulders.

Natalie returned a few moments later with three steaming mugs. "Extra strong," she announced, handing one to Y/N. "For emergency situations only."

The warmth of the mug seeped into Y/N's hands, a small comfort against the icy dread clutching her heart. She took a tentative sip, the bitterness grounding her to the present moment.

"Okay," Natalie began, a determined glint in her eye, "Let's break this down.  What exactly are we dealing with here?"

Maia chimed in, her tone gentle despite the urgency of the situation.  "The video is getting a crazy amount of views, we know that. And people are starting to piece things together because of the photo, right?"

Y/N sighed. "Yeah. It's only a matter of time before they connect me to...well, to him." She couldn't bring herself to say his name out loud, as if speaking it would make the situation even more real.

"What about Harry?" Natalie probed. "Do you think his team knows about this yet? I mean, it's pretty likely they're monitoring social media..."

Y/N's mouth went dry. She hadn't even considered that. "I-I don't know.” she mumbled.

Maia squeezed her hand. "This must be so overwhelming. No wonder you’re freaking out."

Natalie sat forward, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, so, worst-case scenario: this blows up big. Like, international headline big."

Y/N felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over her.  Worst-case scenarios swirled through her mind: relentless paparazzi, vicious internet trolls, the judgmental whisper of strangers. The quiet life she had built so carefully felt like it was crumbling before her eyes.

"But," Natalie continued, a flicker of steel in her gaze, "we're not going to let that happen. We need to be proactive. Strategic."  She turned to Y/N, her voice firm but reassuring. “Can you try to look at your phone? See what’s actually happening? We need to know what we're up against."

Natalie's words hung in the air, a mix of harsh reality and a glimmer of defiant hope. Y/N knew she was right; hiding from the situation wouldn't solve anything.  With a deep breath, she steeled herself. "Yeah, okay. I'll look."

The words felt heavy on her tongue. Taking another sip of coffee for strength, she reached out a shaking hand. "Can you bring me my phone?"

Maia nodded, eyes filled with sympathy. “Of course. Be right back.” She hurried towards the bedroom.

The silence in her absence felt deafening. Y/N stared at the fuzzy patterns of the blanket on her lap, her mind racing.  Natalie was right – they needed to know what they were facing. But did she have the strength to confront the storm head-on?

Maia returned, her usually bubbly demeanor replaced by an expression of surprise.  She held out Y/N's phone, her voice laced with disbelief. "Um, Y/N…"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

Maia held the phone up, the screen illuminated. "Harry's calling you."

A gasp escaped Y/N's lips. Her eyes widened, disbelief etched on her face. Harry's name pulsed against the screen, shining like a star against all the crazy stuff probably going on on social media. 

Every instinct in her body screamed to ignore the call, to shrink back from the inevitable hurricane of questions and consequences. Yet, a defiant flicker of something else sparked within her. She owed him that much, at least.

"W-what do I do?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Natalie and Maia exchanged a worried glance. "Well," Natalie began slowly, "you should probably... answer it."

Y/N's hand trembled as she reached for the phone. It felt heavier than she remembered, laden with the weight of a thousand unspoken words and a future teetering precariously on the edge of a knife.  With a deep, shuddering breath, she pressed the answer button.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the line connected. For a brief, agonizing second, all she heard was static and her own ragged breathing. Then, his voice cut through the silence, low and laced with a familiar concern.

"Sunflower?"

hello! i missed you guys <3 i'll try to post more often, since i have much more story ideas i'd love to share with you! if you want to be added to the taglist, please reply to this post!

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[ellalalala]

A semi-long rant about Dottore's implied self-hatred, loneliness and inner struggles

I am, like many others, endlessly fascinated by Dottore, which means that I've been sucking the game dry for any Dottore content I can find; I've watched the dialogue between him and Nahida numerous times, read the "Zandik's Legacy" notes over and over and even the description of the "Wise Doctor's Pinion" from the Pale Flame artifact set. So much has already been said about him, but I'd like to offer my own two cents about an aspect of his character that is often ignored in favor of his villainy: Dottore's inner struggles.

I'll recount everything that I've gathered and tell you of my interpretation of Dottore's character.

To start, one thing that I never see people mention is a line from Nahida's retelling of the Tatarasuna incident. In the very beginning of the cutscene, we see a monster covered in light blue fur (obviously Dottore) who Nahida describes in a very interesting way. She says:

"Once in a while, the monster would take off its fox fur at night, and lament to itself as it gazed at its reflection in the water: "I am a monstrosity, yet they are too foolish to see it. I pity them."

Of course, it's easy to say that this is just a fairy tale Nahida created to preserve Scaramouche's memories and that this could've been made up - which is only half true! We must remember that Nahida has seen Dottore's consciousness. She already knew of the arguments between his Segments when Dottore confronted her to take the Electro and Dendro gnoses. Why do I bring this specific line up, though?

Because this line outright tells us that: 1) Dottore spent sleepless nights in Tatarasuna reflecting on himself; 2) That he, perhaps sincerely, pitied the people of Tatarasuna for not seeing past his facade.

I also think that the use of the word 'lament' is very interesting. To lament means to express sorrow and regret for something. I would think that this implies Dottore feeling remorseful for not just who he was, but what he would do to Tatarasuna. To provide further proof, I think it is important to look at the expression on the furry monster's face (as Nahida portrays it) when it laments to itself:

(What a cute little thing.)

It looks a bit... upset, doesn't it? Like it is mad at itself as it gazes into the water. This expression, combined with his thoughts and the use of the word 'lament' gives us a clear sign that many ignored: Dottore isn't as shallow of a villain as we thought.

Later in the cutscene, Nahida says:

"But the monster soon found solace when another came to live among the foxes who was not their kin: a kitten, carved from the wood of a white tree, who had been abandoned by the humans."

And in that moment, we see a wide-eyed little monster gazing at the kitten:

(Feels really silly to use this as an example but you've gotta trust the process)

Here, Dottore found someone like himself. An outcast, a creature that did not quite fit in with the ordinary humans - someone who could understand Dottore's loneliness and ostracization. After getting chased out of his hometown for his blasphemous ideas, after getting expelled from the Akademiya and possibly exiled to Aaru Village for his heretical views - Dottore had finally found someone to whom he could say: "See? They will never accept us. It is you and I against them, for they will never understand us."

What person wouldn't seek companionship, after all?

But things didn't turn out the way Dottore expected them to. Unlike Dottore, Scaramouche didn't need to hide his true identity in order to be accepted by the people of Tatarasuna. Thus, the following happened:

"Furious at this happy resolution, the monster lit a fire on the mountain. The terrified animals panicked as the fire spread..."

... and we know the rest. What matters is this: Dottore was angry and jealous of Scaramouche. Exiled from his hometown, rejected by his peers, insulted and looked down upon just for wanting to destroy the imbalance between Man and God - and along comes a puppet, a creation of the Raiden Shogun, who receives acceptance and guidance from the people of Tatarasuna. Not just that, but the only creature who could share Dottore's loneliness is whisked away from him, proving once again that Dottore will never know what it means to have a true companion.

Thus he tricked Scaramouche into believing that Niwa had betrayed them, had him join the Fatui and later used him as the blueprint for the creation of his Segments. Dottore basically ruined Scaramouche's life out of bitter jealousy.

That should be it about Tatarasuna for now. What I'd like to focus on next is the conversation between Dottore and Nahida in the 3.2 Archon Quest.

There are a few lines that interest me, so I'll go over them one by one.

Dottore uses a lot of big words to sound like he's saying something profound when in reality he's saying nothing at all (a nice callback to his Commedia Dell'arte counterpart), but there is one thing that both he and Nahida place great emphasis on: the fact that Dottore, smart as he is, cannot make peace with himself.

First to say it is Dottore. After asking Nahida for her opinion on his Segments, he says:

"Indeed. It's difficult for humans... to make peace with themselves, not to mention oneself from a different period."

The line still feels out of place. It sounds as if he is musing to himself.

Again, we get a line about his Segments, after Nahida asked him to erase them:

"You were observing me, and that's how you know I've long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments."

I think it's safe to assume that the arguing is a metaphor for his struggle of self-acceptance. It seems every Segment has something to say to the others, but more on that later.

Nahida uses Dottore's own words against him:

"Like you said, it's difficult to make peace with yourself. Being as smart as you are, have you managed to do that?"

It's important to note that Dottore doesn't answer that question, but even without that, it's obvious to us, the players - of course Dottore hasn't managed to do that.

Whenever Nahida questions the relationship between his Segments, Dottore easily changes the subject. For example:

"Is the relationship between all the versions of you really that bad?"

"I don't think there's any need to dwell on that. The surplus versions of me can be exchanged for a Gnosis. Do you think anyone can offer themselves at a higher price?"

His Segments all argue constantly. When considered that they are replicas of Dottore at different stages of his life, this takes on an entirely new meaning - beyond his facade, Dottore is a man who can barely make out who he is.

Consider this also: in "A Winter Night's Lazzo", Columbina tells him, "You're looking very young today, Doctor."

To which Dottore replies, "You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment."

A piece of dialogue that had been brushed off by many, myself included - until I realized what this might imply. Dottore finds Columbina's comment insulting because he hates who he is. He hates the younger versions of himself because they represent a Dottore who didn't have the knowledge he has at this current stage of his life. They weren't as smart, as knowledgeable. But that's not really the full extent of it, of course.

Dottore was never fully accepted by anyone, this we have established. In the Akademiya, the students called him a 'madman', a 'monster' (as said in the Wise Doctor's Pinion). When we meet him in the 3.1 Archon Quest, he is referred to as 'The Outcast'. He is always being alienated, but could we assume that he just accepted this rejection and decided to embrace the titles people had thrown at him? This is just... very bold speculation, of course. It is impossible to deny that Dottore didn't always naturally stand out due to his heretical views, but I think it's worth considering that he could have just chosen to be the monster people thought of him as. After all, in the confrontation between him and Niwa, Dottore tells Niwa to think of him as a monster and a demon (for a reason that was... meant to be comforting? Not very important right now).

Consider also how different all the Segments sounded when they found out that they were being erased. All of the voices, along with their manner of speech, varied greatly; I interpreted this as proof of the many masks Dottore has worn over the course of his life. Dottore abandoned whatever humanity he had and decided to embrace the mask of a monster, constantly reinventing himself because he isn't secure in his identity - perhaps he doesn't have one at all. He is a scholar, a Harbinger, a researcher - but without those titles, what is left? What is he left with when he sheds those facades? The constant dodging of Nahida's questions about his Segments, the arguments and the worries of said Segments, the introspection in the cutscene about the Tatarasuna incident - indeed, Dottore is a man filled with self-hatred. A lonely outcast who has never known the comfort of kinship. A monster who swallowed his loneliness and dedicated his life to research.

That should be it, I suppose. My brain is fried and if I remember anything that I might have missed, I'll add that info later.

I want to mention one thing: this doesn't mean Dottore is a misunderstood good guy - doesn't take a genius to know that that is not true. Dottore has no regard for human life (which is ironic, considering how he believes humans have great potential and he wants them to be equal with the Gods). He has hurt so many and I'm sure he will continue to do so. He is evil, but it should be noted that he was once just an ordinary human, too. There must be an explanation for why he is the way he is. It's easy to paint him as just a monster because damn he's good at what he does; but I like to think that there is a layer to him that we just haven't fully seen yet. I'm excited to find out more about him when Snezhnaya gets released in like 2 years... ha. If you've read this far, thank you a lot! Curious to know what you guys think. I love Dottore

[sreyaya]

Halo :DDD!

If requests are still open, can I request Subby! Norton with a Gn! Reader please I want to just milk his stress out and leaving him all relaxed and whimpering muehehehehe

There's not enough Sub Norton fics this is a crime I just want to ride hi-

Hard Work Pays Off

Norton Campbell x Fem!Reader NSFW

Content Warning: cnc, somnophilia, riding, slight sub!Norton, implied edging, light overstim MDNI

(A/n: The thristy inboxes are eating me of guilt, here's something small i cooked, I'LL WRITE ANOTHER ONE SOON, I PROMISE OOMFS</3)

smut under the cut!

It was undeniable, Norton’s dedication and how hardworking he is becomes the many reasons you fell for him. Day in and day out, he poured himself into his work, often going above and beyond, helping others with their match schedules, and even taking on their shifts when they couldn’t. But in all honesty, his tireless efforts often left him more utterly drained than satisfied, going as far as pushing him to the edge of exhaustion, exactly just like tonight where his commitment had taken its toll.

After agreeing to cover for the mercenary, he barely made it into the bedroom before collapsing into a deep, heavy slumber. As you stood there, watching him, your heart ached with a mix of concern and admiration for the man you loved so deeply. You knew he needed rest, but seeing him so worn out pops a small imaginary light bulb above you, a mischevious thought supposedly.

Truly it's not like you had never thought about it before, which led you into asking for consent a couple months back if it did happen, and that of course, is taking him in fully whilst asleep. With small touches, you nudged him, making sure he was deeply asleep. Smiling in satisfaction, you carefully climbed onto his lap, straddling his lower abdomen.

Slowly, you began to remove your pants, leaving only your undergarment on. The cool air sent a shiver down your spine as you settled yourself, feeling the heat of Norton's body beneath you. You started to grind against him, hands on his abdomen as you move your hips in slow, deliberate circles. The friction sent waves of pleasure through your body as you could feel him respond, his length amusingly growing beneath you. Each leisure movement brought a soft whimper to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing together as he bit his bottom lip in his sleep.

Feeling much more urgent than before, you reached down and pulled his bottoms down, revealing his impressive member in all its glory. His length was already flushed, a bead of precum leaking from the slit. The sight of him like this, hard and ready, sent a rush through you. Your hands trembled with suspense as you positioned yourself over Norton, your breath quickening, looking at his calm yet blushed face, ready to take him in fully, to feel every inch of him, feeling your desires pooling beneath you before lowering yourself onto his length.

As you took him in, inch by inch, a gasp escaped your lips, your minds shouting alarms each time you pushed deeper. Norton stirred beneath you, his body instinctively responding to your presence. You moved slowly at first, allowing yourself to adjust to the fullness of him. Each movement sent pleasure through your body as you closed your eyes.

Norton groaned softly, his hands twitching as if seeking you out in his sleep. You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You began to move more deliberately, frustratingly trying to reach out towards your desired spot. The friction between your bodies releasing more sweat as your love juices mixed together.

It didn't take much before Norton arose from his slumber, slowly waking up with sensations of pleasure drawing him to his consciousness. You watched raptly as his face changed to delight, his parted lips releasing soft moans and groans, all music for your ears. Riding him, you smiled with pride, feeling his breath grow ragged and much more desperate with each motion. In that moment, he looked both charming and irresistibly cute.

Your movements too became more urgent, the combination of the pleasure from where you were connected sent him over. His eyes growing puffy from the overstimulation present. "Hold on, baby. Please, 'm close, slow down", he whimpered out. One arm currently covering his eyes as his other one desperately holding onto your hips whilst releasing more whimpers below you.

You kept playing with him, constantly stopping or slowing down every time his breath hitched. Whispering sweet nothings to his ears as they grew redder and redder with every word. You were his weakness and you knew that. Adding another sharp thrust, your gummy walls stretching out as the warmth felt surreal for Norton, his eyes glistening more and more due to the pleasure, his erection dripping more and more inside you, begging to finish as soon as possible.

As you finally reached the peak of your pleasure, your body shuddered with the force of your climax. The gut feeling washed over you in over and over again, your body trembling from the sudden release. Norton’s hands tightened on your hips, his own pleasure mirroring yours as he reached his peak. His eyes opened fully, locking onto yours, as his whimpers filled the room up.

You slowed your movements, allowing both of you to come down gently from the heights of pleasure. Leaning forward, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the connection between you deepening with every touch.

“You cheeky lil' girl ”, he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with emotion. “You always know exactly what I need". You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I love you, Norton, just wanted to take care of you.”

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm and loving embrace. "And you do, every single day. I’m so lucky to have you.”

[fairytsuk1]

i NEED to hug alex so bad i know that boy gives life changing cuddles

cuddling with alex ...

[morning]

it's way too early for your alarm, something you muse after a song blares right into your sanctuary of warmth and alex and soft sheets. you can barely see the snooze button, but you slam your thumb down and shut your eyes to eagerly try to savor the last few minutes of slumber. alex shifts, and you feel a bit of guilt in your chest as you know it definitely disturbed him, too.

"so early," he barely can breathe out, eyes still shut as he battles for consciousness, "too early."

"i forgot to turn it off, 'm sorry," you whisper to fluttering eyelashes.

he doesn't reply and at first you wonder how it's possible to look so cute in one's sleep. he catches you. an eye opens and then closes before he pulls you even closer to him.

your hearts are touching. chest to chest. can he hear yours beating? as though your bodies were meant for each other, little air pockets and gaps flit out of existence until you are both molded against each other. if your skin could fuse, you're sure it'd be this beautiful mix of brown, and it'd smell like vanilla with a hint of spice.

the two of you are one.

"stop thinking and sleep, already."

"don't tell me what to do," you chide.

he doesn't have the energy to do it now, oh, but he'll chide you. he makes this fact known with a squeeze to your ass that makes you giggle. the squeeze turns to soft strokes, to barely there touches, to soft snores, and then peaceful nothingness.

[afternoon]

it's after his stream that alex seeks you out like a moth to a flame. he peeks his head into every room before finding you lounging in the front room. you're too occupied with your phone to notice his feline mannerisms emerging as he prepares to pounce.

"oof, i didn't see you coming!"

"i know, i'm sneaky like that. what are you up to, what's going on?"

alex eagerly worms his way into your space. he's absolutely unashamed to wrap his arms around your waist and take a deep inhale of your sweet, sweet perfume. you respond between peppered kisses before probing about his own stream.

he's a bit muted. closed up. he doesn't want to talk about it, he'd rather sigh into your skin and squeeze you tighter, "quiero relajarte con ti."

"bueno, lo que quieras," you sink a bit further into the couch.

you show him memes on your phone and funny tweets, and alex makes funny voices and kisses your beauty marks. it's light. with every breath you take, you're on cloud fucking nine.

[post-coital]

it's rare you get to have him like this. so many emotions, feelings, and stressors run through his caramel skin and into his veins. he can be so quiet. pensive.

other times, like this, he's all mush in your arms. he lets his hair sit sweaty against his forehead; his skin glistens and stretches as he pulls out of you. your bodies had connected in a rhythm that was rich and succulent.

alex loved having you pliant under his fingers, moans making your ribs heave from pleasure as his hips met yours over, and over, and over.

"felt so good, 'lex," you curl further into him, pulling him closer as if he'll leave. "feeling so sleepy. so... satisfied."

he doesn't respond at first. alex only looks at your form, utterly vulnerable and laid bare for him. it could take eons, and he could never get enough of you.

both of you caress each other, knowing with any wrong movement, the heartache would be so intense you'd have no other option but to crumble from it.

thankfully for both of you, there was a love embedded in every stroke of skin, every kiss, and every cuddle.

[magiccath]

Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

The Doctor x Reader (written with 10 in mind, but works for any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which you just need a little physical affection from your favorite Time Lord

A/N: yeah the title is a Fall Out Boy song, what about it?

By most standards, the Doctor was a fairly touchy individual. It wasn’t something he did consciously, or even a habit he was generally aware of. He wasn’t ever overwhelming about it; touches from the Doctor usually came in the most casual of manners. His hand tangling in yours, dragging you along as he sprinted away from (or more often, towards) danger. Or he’d gather you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground with pure enthusiasm as he murmured how incredibly brilliant you had been. 

As time went on, the touches became more frequent - his hand found its way into yours and his arms found their way around your middle more often. You’d never thought of yourself as particularly ‘touched starved’ before the Doctor, but you found that quickly changing. 

You started to crave his gentle touches in a way you never had before. It was like a bug bite - a tantalizing feeling deep inside of you that you longed to itch. Technically, you could, you were completely able to, but the outcome tended not to be advisable. While you knew you had an affliction for the alien’s touch, you didn’t have the faintest clue where he stood on the matter. If he knew just how much his minor affections meant to you, he might stop them altogether. You found that sometimes, it was better to have a little bit of something than not to have it at all. 

Subconsciously, you started to seek out his touch in the smallest of ways; a brush of your pinky against the back of his hand, a gentle tug on his coat sleeve, an adjustment of his constantly wayward tie. Sometimes, your hand almost clung to his, only reluctantly pulling away when his fingers untangled themselves from yours. You clung to his frame tighter, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck when he hugged you, clinging to him like a lifeline. 

If he noticed, the Doctor chose not to comment on your affliction for his physical touch. Honestly, it made sense that the Doctor didn’t notice. He didn't notice a lot of things, especially for someone who claimed to notice all things. Sure, he knew the important stuff, but he wasn’t always the best with subtle emotions or social cues. Sometimes his obliviousness was borderline painful (and at the worst of times, dangerous), but other times it saved you from embarrassment. 

Regardless of the reasoning, you were glad that the Doctor remained oblivious to your longing touches. You didn’t know how he would react to it all. Even more, you didn’t know how to approach the subject at all. “Will you let me just hold onto you for 3-5 business days? For some reason, I feel the need to be constantly touching you. Please and thank you.” 

So, you stayed silent. You found yourself laying awake in bed at night, longing for the secure feeling of his hand in yours. You watched him work on the TARDIS console, constantly fighting the urge to walk over and hug his slender middle as tightly as you could manage. He handed you things and the momentary brush of his fingers made you want to cry with complete and utter need. 

The thought of him wormed its way inside of your brain, nestling deep inside until it was borderline impossible to ignore. Your heart ached for him - for the gentle and loving way that he held your hand, for the caring brushes of his fingers against your cheeks, for the feel of his arms snaking around you, pulling you closer and closer to his body. You ached for him. 

Some days were worse than others - when you had a bad day the aching need burned inside of you, threatening to boil over. On those days, you sought comfort in any way you could, oftentimes hiding away in your bed, clinging to your pillow like a small child. In contrast, the good days were easy. Those days that you spent running around the cosmos with the Doctor, your hands firmly intertwined. At the end of those days, you fell asleep with a smile on your face, the phantom feeling of his hand in yours etched into your memory. 

-

The Doctor knew that you considered him oblivious. Most times, he wouldn’t even bother to argue with you. It wasn’t that he was oblivious per se, but rather that he was selective in his attention. He cared very little for pears or people who talked tantalizingly slow, but he was rapt when it came to puzzles and you. 

You were his favorite companion, of course he paid attention to you. He knew that you bounced your leg when you were anxious, he knew exactly how you took your tea, your favorite kind of biscuit, and the name of your first pet. Most notably, he was starting to notice a shift in your behavior when it came to him. 

Whenever he touched you, you seemed to tense against him before relaxing and practically melting into his touch. Your fingers would twitch when he held your hand, or your arms shook when he hugged you. The first few times it happened he attributed it to other things - nerves, too much caffeine, hunger, etc. As it continued to happen, the Doctor started to worry. 

Maybe you were touch adverse and he was just now realizing. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and oblivious. He wasn’t oblivious when it came to you, he wasn’t supposed to be. You were one of the few things in the universe that could hold his attention for ridiculously extended periods of time. 

As he worked on the TARDIS machinery he felt your eyes on him, the weight of your gaze boring down on him. A sudden dread filled him, the fear of you being cross with him enough to send him crawling into a deep, dark cave. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the tool he had been using to the side. He brushed his hands against his trousers and stood up, crawling out of the hole in the grating he had been down in. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked curtly, deciding it was best to not beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened quickly in response, shocked by the sudden question as well as the content of the question. “No?”

“You’d tell me if you were, right? We’re best mates you’re supposed to tell me when you’re cross.” 

“I’m not cross,” you retort, your brow furrowed. You wondered where the Doctor got such an idea. He was known to misread social cues, but he had gotten pretty good at reading yours. “You’d know if I was cross,” you added.

“If you don’t like physical touch you could have just told me,” he grumbled quietly, his tone reminiscent of a sulking toddler. He was hurt and almost offended that you hadn’t just told him. You could tell him anything, surely you knew that?

“Who told you that?” Your frown deepened. The Doctor was very good at being wrong, a lot better than he would ever admit to. Still, this was a new kind of off-base, even for him. 

The Doctor tilted his head to the side slightly, “You’ve been acting weird about it lately.” 

“No, I haven’t,” you say, almost too quickly. 

“You-” he struggled to find the exact word, his big Time Lord brain whirling away. “You twitch when I touch you,” he tried, but it still didn’t seem to express his thought process. “It’s more than that, it’s like you tense for a split second when I touch you.”

“Do I?” 

The Doctor nodded, “It’s like my touch burns you, but you’re too nice to tell me.” 

“I’m not too nice to not tell you anything. I will proudly tell you that your hair makes you look like a cockatoo on drugs.”

The Doctor practically pouted, his hand subconsciously flying into his unruly hair, “It does not- That- that’s not the point,” he frowns. 

“I’m not mad about the touch, Doctor. I’d have no problem telling you if I was.” At least that was true. The whole situation would be a great deal easier if you were severely averse to his touch. He wouldn’t think twice if you told him you didn’t like to be touched, so why did it feel like such a big deal the other way around? 

“But you’re mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” you sigh. Now it was your turn to grapple for words. Why did it have to be so hard to explain emotions? 

“It’s not that I don’t like your touch. Really quite the opposite,” you started rambling, looking more at the floor than the Doctor himself. “It’s not that I want you to touch me less, it’s that I want you to touch me more.” 

He raised an eyebrow, slightly stunned by the confession. 

“Not like that!” you say quickly, realizing how it sounded. It wasn’t like that, not at all. 

“I wasn’t even thinking about it like that,” he frowned, finding your comment defensive. 

“I just mean-” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “I find myself wanting more hugs, more hand-holding, stuff like that.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask?” 

“It seemed weird,” you murmur, still not looking up from your hiding spot. 

“It’s perfectly normal to crave affection,” the Doctor shrugged, clinical as ever. No matter what you said, he always found a way to make it sound ‘perfectly normal’. Somewhere, someplace, sometime, it most likely was.

“It’s not something that I experienced before,” you admit, finally looking up from your hands. You still don’t meet his eyes, your gaze finding it more comfortable to look at your trainers. “I didn’t need it like I do now, it didn’t eat at me.” 

“You should have told me sooner,” he sighed, his voice closer to you now. Your eyes flitted upwards, meeting his. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know?” he said, resting his hands on your arms. His thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, the gesture so painfully caring it made you want to cry. 

“I didn’t know how,” you admit, finally looking into his eyes. They were always so soft like his default setting was puppy dog. It was hard not to get lost in those endless pools of chocolate brown. 

The Doctor pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. You could hear the steady sound of his hearts beating, the twin organs just barely out of sync with each other. The four-beat rhythm reverberated through your head, the sound oddly calming and familiar to you. 

You gave up on acting strong, pretending that this wasn’t exactly what you needed. Instead, you just melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist in return. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his suit jacket, clutching onto the garment like your life depended on it. 

The familiar smell of the Doctor flooded your senses. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the smell was, but it was trademark Doctor to you. Not quite a sandalwood musk, maybe an alien version of it? A strange mix of cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla - a combination that strangely did not coincide to create the smell of a Snickerdoodle. Sometimes he smelled like fresh linen after he did his laundry or switched out his suit. It didn’t matter what the exact scent notes were, you could recognize his smell anywhere. 

You held on a little tighter to his suit, pressing your face further into his chest. The Doctor grunted slightly in surprise as you squeezed him, making you ease up a little bit on your grip. His hands run up and down your spine, rubbing soft and gentle circles. 

It was a bit of an awkward position, the two of you in a tangled embrace on the floor. Your back was starting to hurt, but you didn’t dare move. What if this was your only chance to hold onto him like this?

“Do you wanna get off the floor?” the Doctor murmured, his hand still rubbing up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back but remain entirely stationary on the floor. You felt glued to him, unable to move even if you wanted to. 

“You’re gonna have to let go of me for that,” he chuckled, also making no moves to let go of you. When you also showed no signs of moving, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He started to let go of you, moving to get up from the floor. In protest, your arms tightened around him. 

“If you want to move off of the hard metal floor, you’re going to have to let go of me,” he whispered, stroking the back of your head reassuringly. “I promise we can go back to this, I’d just prefer somewhere more comfortable.” 

Reluctantly, you complied, untangling your arms from around his middle. The Doctor got up first, extending a hand down to help you up from the floor as well. Even after he pulled you upright, he didn’t let go of your hand, a small gesture that you were immensely grateful for. 

Silently, he led you down the hall and into the library. The room was a vast rotunda with seemingly endless shelves of books spanning multiple floors upwards. Gentle light came from vintage lamps and cream-colored candles that never seemed to burn out. Several worn-out pieces of furniture were littered around the room, many of which you had fallen asleep in at one time or another. 

The Doctor selected the largest seat in the room, a plush L-shaped couch with a garish but faded floral pattern. Unceremoniously he flopped into the corner, opening your arms in invitation for you to join him. 

Without hesitation, you practically fell into his arms. You curled up against him, resting your head back against his chest. In turn, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you against his frame. 

“This better?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face, his fingers tickling your cheek. You nodded in response, nuzzling yourself further into him. Your face found its way into the crook of his neck, your nose slotting perfectly against the curvature of his shoulder. The Doctor sighed in contentment and rested his cheek on top of your head. 

You felt like nothing more than a puddle in his arms, finally able to melt against him like you had wanted for so many months. Now that you were snuggled against him, you weren’t sure you would ever be able to let go. 

As if reading your thoughts, he broke the silence, “We can stay here for as long as you need.” 

“Thank you,” you exhaled quietly, your heart fluttering at his compassion. 

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the day, snuggled up in the TARDIS library together. The Doctor made a conscious effort to make this a regular thing, especially on days when you weren’t feeling your best. All you had to do was say the word and he would drop everything to comfort you. After all, you were his favorite companion.