#i thought home was supposed to be safe and its not in fact it all stems from here!!! wtf!!!!

[purple-plum-petals]

Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to an MC Who Is Cheerful and Oblivious ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Machete, Mr. Hood, Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Minor Spoilers for Homicipher (Mr. Scarletella’s Part), Minor Canon-typical Mentions of Violence. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,100 words. Request: “Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.” Author’s Note: This was such a fun request to think about since a human like this existing within the other world would pretty much be a living, walking target – like, you’d probably be dead so quickly if you were oblivious or naïve or too trusting (like me when I first played through the game and was smiling every time a hot monster man talked to me 😭). Since you didn’t specify any characters, I just picked a handful that I thought would have varying reactions to the type of reader you requested. I hope you enjoy! 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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👣: Mr. Crawling loves your cheerful and friendly personality, finding it a breath of fresh air within the other world. It draws him to you even more, like a moth to a bright flame. He likes how you sometimes just randomly giggle or laugh. He does it, too, so it’s nice to meet someone so similar to him! He definitely feels this sense of kinship with you when he notices all the similarities you two share. Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to keep you safe, wanting to protect you from everything or everyone attempting to harm you in the hopes you don’t lose that sparkle – that light within you.

👣: He’s already very protective of you, and your obliviousness to the other world and its residents makes that feeling even stronger. He is aware that your friendly and trusting nature will be taken advantage of in the world he calls his home, so he somehow manages to take a more proactive role when it comes to keeping you safe… if that was even possible (it’s ON SITE if he sees Mr. Stitch near you. Mr. Crawling knows how that particular resident acts, and he would prefer not to have him kidnap or try to eat you…). 

👣: Whenever you laugh, he also laughs – you do the same thing with him, too, so you both kind of bounce off of each other and act like the other’s personal echo. Any other resident who sees the two of you kind of thinks you have a few screws loose, watching from afar while you both just randomly laugh together without a care in the world. Honestly, Mr. Crawling thinks it’s nice to be able to laugh with someone else like this. 

👣: Overall, your personality manages to make him love you even more (if that was even possible). Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to make sure you never stop smiling, never once making you feel like you’re not supposed to laugh even if it may not be seen as appropriate in the situation. He doesn’t care that sometimes your obliviousness results in both of you finding yourselves between a rock and a hard place. He will be there by your side until the day you tell him to leave – his love for you is unconditional, and that’s just a fact no matter what kind of person you are. 

🗣️: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped also finds himself immensely endeared to you and your personality. He loves how happy you are all the time, and he finds his mood improving whenever you’re around, too! It’s wonderful to have someone like you around, someone who is always so cheerful and upbeat, especially considering the place you have found yourself trapped in. He appreciates it – appreciates you, as a whole – but that doesn’t mean he has no reservations about your personality… 

🗣️: His anxiety spikes whenever he thinks too much about what you were potentially getting up to whenever he wasn’t around, worried about you getting taken advantage of or giggling at the wrong question and ending up injured, or worse, dead. He really enjoys spending time with you, you’re like a ray of sunlight in such a dark place, and the thought of that being gone after having just experienced it is… quite an unpleasant thought (he doesn’t know what sunlight is, but he can vaguely remember a yellow warmth from a time long forgotten that you remind him of). If he had a body, he’d probably be ripping his beloved hair out just because of how oblivious you can be. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is definitely the type to just start scolding you point-blank, telling you that you need to be more careful – his beautiful hair is going to turn grey at this point with how often he worries about you! Please don’t make him worry… It’s not good for his metaphorical heart. He even lectures you about how he typically tells the difference between people he can trust (like you, Mr. Silvair, the Hairdresser) versus people he knows he can’t trust (like the Hooded Child or Mr. Stitch) in the hopes it will have you thinking about your safety more. 

🗣️: Sometimes he feels a sense of helplessness whenever he thinks about you and the fact he can’t do anything to keep you safe; it’s something he opens up about to Mr. Silvair whenever you’re not around. Mr. Chopped finds himself wishing that he had a body, even though you had assured him he was perfectly fine in your eyes without one. He just wants to help and protect you the way that others you knew were capable of doing. Whenever you sense he’s feeling down, though, your bright smile is enough to wash away his worries about your well-being, even if only for a moment. 

🔪: Doesn’t understand why you’re so chipper all the time. Honestly, I feel like Mr. Machete would find it annoying, the fact you’re always smiling or giggling at one thing or another. He’ll purposefully chuck his sword at you in the hopes that it will scare you, make you wipe that stupid smile off your face, but it never does… It falters a bit, sure, but it never fully goes away, and that just pisses him off more.  

🔪: He kind of makes it his mission to try and break you, to see how or what he can do to finally make you get angry or upset. After all, you never really fight back when he tries to start things with you, and that’s boring. He wants you to get frustrated at him, wants to see you throw a punch or try to hit him after another attempt at making your smile disappear, yet you never do. You remain smiling, and you’re oh-so blinding whenever you do, and he hates it. He hates you (or does he? He isn’t even sure himself… emotions are too complicated).

🔪: Overall, Mr. Machete has mixed feelings toward you. He can respect the strength it takes to keep a smile on your face, to remain positive and happy in a place filled to the brim with violence and death… That doesn’t mean he likes it, though, hearing your laughter whenever he does something you find endearing or if you see something you find amusing. It’s a sound that's headache-inducing, yet it also makes him want to pick you up and squeeze you (I’m a firm believer that he would have cuteness aggression). He has a love-hate relationship with you. 

🔪: Mr. Machete also finds himself fed up with your obliviousness and naïvety, especially regarding other residents. He’s getting sick and tired of you finding yourself in trouble and, when it finally sets in you’re in danger, you call to him for help. Why the hell are you calling for him? You got yourself into this mess, and you’ll figure out a way to get out of it… Well, that’s what he says, but he usually takes care of whatever resident you found yourself in a conflict with, or he tosses you effortlessly over one shoulder and absconds if he doesn’t think it’s a fight he can win (don’t ask him why he even bothers saving you – he doesn’t know the answer, either). 

🪓: Your cheerful and peppy attitude, the way you’re always smiling brightly and warmly at everyone you meet, makes Mr. Hood feel both endeared to you and worried about you. You do realize you just agreed to give that resident your heart, right? If he wasn’t here, you most certainly would have died, and that’s not exactly a thought he wants to entertain. He felt protective over you since the first moment you met, and that feeling had not died down once (even if looking after you had made him feel like he’d aged a century). 

🪓: Always places himself between you and other residents when you attempt to communicate with them, using himself as a shield just in case you accidentally agree to something absurd or laugh at the wrong thing. Mr. Hood really shifts into teaching mode after cases like these, making sure you know exactly what certain words mean and when not to laugh, smile, or blindly agree to things. Honestly, if you were oblivious and overly trusting, he would feel it was his duty to stay by your side at all times and would be worried about what would happen if he left you alone.  

🪓: However, despite the persisting feeling of worry your personality and some of your traits bring him when watching you interacting with most of the other residents, he can’t help but enjoy your presence. It’s new, and he surprisingly likes hearing the sound of your laughter. He finds your personality and behaviors to be cute, even though they bring you trouble more often than not. Most of the time, sometimes unconsciously, Mr. Hood finds himself resting his hand on the top of your head, patting it softly whenever you look up and smile at him so brightly. 

🪓: Mr. Hood, despite finding that your obliviousness and your inability to take most things seriously typically ends up with you winding up in troublesome situations that could have been easily avoided, he still wouldn’t change a single thing about you (he has no problem staining his hands with more blood to keep you safe – killing residents while protecting you at the same time is something he’s good at, after all). Your smile is just too bright, your laugh almost infectious, and all he wants to do is make sure it never fades. He feels a strange ache in his chest whenever you take his hands into yours and tug him along, laughing all the way. He doesn’t understand it, but he also doesn’t have the desire to understand it, either.  

🩸: Your personality intrigues him, and he finds himself desiring to know what you’re thinking about. What makes you so happy? How can you continue to travel through the other world, facing one traumatic event after another, with a smile constantly plastered on your face? A person like you is new to Mr. Scarletella, and he wants to be around you more. He wants to figure out how he can be the person making you smile and laugh in such a way – he wants to be able to bathe in the warmth and brightness your aura radiates. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella doesn’t make his presence known most of the time throughout your journey, but he watches you from afar, keeping an eye on you. However, if he does need to step in to keep you from harm, he will. Your reaction to him is unlike anyone else he's met, though. Most people who saw the man with the red umbrella would scream and run the other way, terrified of the story that was intertwined with his existence, but you didn’t. Honestly, it makes him want you more – you’re new, you’re different – and he likes it… likes you. There’s something about the sound of your laughter and your happy-go-lucky nature that makes him feel alive, in a way. 

🩸: However, because of your obliviousness and naïvety, when he asks for your name and you just give it to him without a second thought… well, it makes his goal a lot easier. If I’m being 100% honest, being oblivious or overly trusting around Mr. Scarletella is not a good mix. Because he finds you interesting and different from other humans he’s seen before, he’s pleased that you’re his now – heart, body, and soul. You forget everything about yourself after, though, and he doesn’t find you as appealing as he once did (he low-key kind of regrets asking for your name). 

🩸: For feel-good purposes, though, we’ll just ignore the last point and continue with the fluff… So, overall, Mr. Scarletella would find you fascinating and would find himself wanting to be near you in any capacity, whether it be as your master or your servant, he wouldn’t care so long as he got to be with you. He honestly wonders how you’ve managed to live for as long as you have considering your general attitude towards most things, but he’s glad that you did. Being with you makes his lungs feel like they’re full of fresh air, and he gets a pleasant tingling sensation in his body whenever he hears your laughter echo through the dilapidated hallways of the other world. 

[fluffyartbl0g]

FUCKED UP BEETLE

PROBLEM

So you're having a totally fine day by all accounts and then it instantly goes to shit just because you pass by a fucked up beetle hidden in the grass. You've seen bugs dead all the time, so what. So what if its torn up wings and cracked shell definitely mean that some random kids fucked it up before it died. So what if your dad was drunk and high all the time and screamed at you and you fucked C over and you fuck everything up. SO WHAT. No amount of therapy or 'healthy coping mechanisms' or 'unpacking of trauma' will ever erase the ultimate truth underneath. You are intrinsically, hopelessly fucked.

-3 Volition: Fucked in the head

SOLUTION

You're going to wake up the next morning totally fine again. In fact, Harry's probably going to put some extra effort into making breakfast nice to cheer you up--which will actually kind of annoy you, but in a way that makes you feel all fuzzy and warm. Sure, you still get stuck in your head sometimes about sad shit, but you're dealing with it better and better, and the days where you actually feel like someone are beginning to far outnumber the days you don't. For now, you hug him a little bit tighter. You're safe now.

-1 Composure: Permanently a little bit fucked

+2 Volition: You're going to be okay

_

transcript under read more

VARIOUS CANDY WRAPPERS SPLAYED OUT ON THE TABLE: The label reads 'BLUE DREAM'. Unlike what its colour may suggest, it is not flavoured a blueberry or bubblegum, but vanilla.

[A red orb appears above Harry's head]

SHIVERS [Impossible: Success] - The air has been shifted ever so slightly. He's trying to breathe correctly, but blurs of thought keep flickering through his mind. This continued for the entire thirteen minute trek home.

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] - A loud thunk rattles across the room as Cuno closes the door, he looks out of breath

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He's barely holding it together

CUNO - He looks up at you with a yelp, "Fuckin hell! Wasn't the pig supposed to be out investigating some shit?"

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - He didn't want you seeing him like this, answer his question, he'll leave if you ask him about it first.

1. "Did something happen?"

2. "You look like you ran a damn marathon kid, what's up?"

3. "I had to quickly come back to snag some important evidence for the case" (point to various candy wrappers)

CUNO - He scrunches his brow "That mean you're getting your ass outta Cuno's face soon?"

DRAMA [Easy: Fail] - Wow. He didn't even ask about the wrappers!

EMPATHY [Difficult: Success] - He doesn't want to be alone

1. "Did something happen?"

PERCEPTION [Difficult: Fail] - Cuno's hands tremble as he mumbles out a whisper of words you can't make out

1. Cuno?

[Harry reaches out to comfort him, but Cuno sees this and snaps at him]

CUNO - "NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED ALRIGHT? THINGS HAVE BEEN FUUUCKIN PEACHY TODAY"

"CUNO GOT A FUCKIN A ON HIS ESSAY, ABSOLUTELY WENT DOWN ON A DELICIOUS FUCKIN KEBAB YA HEAR?

CUNO - He pauses. "Nothin fuckin happened today. It's all me. Cuno's the one thats all fucked up"

He starts choking up by the end of that,

(a yellow orb is seen above Harry's head as he looks at cuno breaking down [it's reaction speed])

Harry hugs him

CUNO - "Fuck"

KUUNO - He hugs back tightly

[slowdivinqs]

Tender

Joel Miller x f! reader : 18+ MDNI

summary: giving Joel some loving in the form of a massage

warnings: no use of y/n. kinda pleasure dom! reader x kinda sub! Joel. Age Gap. Joel Miller oiled up!!! Pet names. Handjbs, Body worship ( m! receiving ). External stimulation of the pr0state for like 2 seconds. Edging. Nip play ? Overstim if you squint. ( m! receiving ) Unprotected P in V. Thigh riding. Cream-pie. Can be Pedro or Pixel Joel.

w/c: 4K

a/n: who doesn’t love Joel Miller all oiled up?? Thank you for 320 followers and all the love on Easy ♡ this fic was weirdly hard for me to write, it took me ages to complete! ( and I lowkey hate it ) it's my birthday today ( 19th March ) so this was a treat to myself ◡̈ 🍰

masterlist

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“My old man’s so tense, let me take care of him.” You whisper, nuzzling into his back as your hands wrap around his soft stomach. You feel his hair-covered arm lift to hold over yours, his thumb running along your skin, chilling you with its coldness. He grunts in acknowledgement of what you said, more preoccupied with wondering how you managed to lug the salt lamp down the stairs without falling. He subtly side-eyes you to check for bruises, satisfied when he finds none. Just back from patrol, he smells like the outside - hair tousled from the winds, skin icey to the touch. His nose is slightly red, it makes him look younger : it’s cute. You feel like purring at the sight of him, your man back home - safe and contently tired.

“Thought you’re supposed to respect the elderly.” He murmurs in that warm, gentle voice of his, still eyeing your setup, the couch cushions laid out on the floor, towels covering them, the wooden blinds closed for a warm atmosphere - it looks cozy, you even have one of his soft, acoustic guitar records playing.

“I am respecting you, I’m going to give you a massage.” You stand on your tiptoes to tuck your chin over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his pretty eyes sparkling from the glow of the salt lamp you , like he thought , barely managed to lug down stairs. He looks so soft, and you squeeze him tighter. 

He’s been working on this - letting you spoil him, receiving love and not just feeling like he only wants to give it. 

He finally moves forward to take off his clothes after you kiss the back of his neck softly, his scruffy hair tickling your nose. 

He groans as he bends forward slightly to shuck his pants and underwear off his legs, shooting you a look when he feels your eyes on his ass, but ,like always, you just smile at him mischievously. He shakes his head and tosses the bundles of clothes onto the cushion-less couch.

He clicks in too many places when he lies down on the ‘massage bed’. His form immediately slumps, and you can hear his chuckle as he plants his face in the make-shift face hole you’ve made for him with towels and scarves, in fact – he starts laughing too much.

“Don’t laugh.” You mutter as you kneel beside him on the carpet, furrowing your eyebrows even though he can’t see it. Your hands meet the warm water inside the wooden bowl, grabbing the soaked washcloth and ringing it. Cheeks flushing, not insecurely, but in the way you do when you know he thinks you’re being sweet.

“I ain’t, this is real nice, baby.” His voice is muffled, and you can admit it looks a bit silly - him lying there flat on his face. “Where’d you even see a massage set up?” He asks, twisting his palms to face up and then down, stretching his triceps after holding his gun for so long.

“That new doctor in the clinic is giving some messages to the pregnant women’s back, saw her room.” 

Joel hums in acknowledgment before he falls silent once more, finally bringing his arms up to rest around his head. The sight is erotic in itself - the stretch of them rising, all the muscles that ripple in response. The soft light caressing every dip like honey in a way you will soon follow. 

Less poetically, his biceps look muscular and juicy, the sight of his broad, defined back making you sigh dreamily. Not dissimilar to the way he does as you wipe the warm washcloth down his skin, cleaning off his work from patrol, even though the sight makes you feel as though you should rather be using your tongue. He slumps under the soothing sensation, letting you drag the towel all over – even the dimples on his lower back. 

You enjoy taking care of him like this, knowing he’ll never do it himself if he didn’t reluctantly allow you. It makes you feel special, that he’ll lie on couch cushions with his bare butt to the world so you can give him what you want to, try your best shot at helping his sore muscles. Giving him some loving.

You grab a little tub you ‘found’ when you were ‘studying’ the doctor’s massage table at the clinic, ready to get your hands on your old man. You feel like a dog with a bone - knowing him, you’ll probably have a bone soon. 

“The hell is that?” He mutters, inhaling slightly as you screw open the navy blue lid.

“Dunno, massage herb. Meant to ‘open your chakras’.” You murmur, reading the faded label, there’s some woman who has quite perky breasts on the label, with colorful circles around her. Seems like a bad marketing take on a culture you’re not aware of. “What’s a chakra?”

“Do I look like I know what a chakra is?”Joel snorts underneath you, and you pinch his hip, making him squirm away from your attacking fingers. There’s a slight layer of separation on the cream, but you mix it around with your finger - it feels nice - cold and smooth. You lift it to your nose and the smell of it almost seems like a bit of a high hits you - like one of those oils Joel put in the bath the time he decided to treat you to a spa day since you’ve never had one. 

“Smells like it could be spiritual.” You continue, and he chuckles the chuckle you know means he’s internally shaking his head at you.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?” 

“Magic cream won’t be magic unless you believe, Joel.” 

“I rest my case.” He murmurs fondly, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you eye his back again, those muscles that line his spine : his shoulders. You might be drooling. 

You wish you had a camera to record this, just for your own viewing pleasure on those nights he guards the wall. “It’s chamomile and eucalyptus, baby.” he informs you a moment later.

Your thighs slide down around his hips, sitting on his unfairly sculpted backside. He glances at you, before you’re running your hands down his shoulder blades, and he’s hissing at the cold.  

You admire his freckles you’ve traced so many times, his darker age spots you press kisses to almost every night. Those sculpted, almost renaissance-like muscles shine under the oil - it looks better than anything you’ve ever seen before, and your pussy seems to agree. 

You remember seeing an ‘adult video’ in Eugene’s bag when you were a few years younger - both the partners had copious amounts of oil on them, and you kind of liked it, even if Eugene ripped it away and told you it wasn’t for 17 year olds - he was being a hypocrite, because he still gave you weed to enjoy with your then boyfriend. You’re giddy at the idea of seeing Joel fully slicked with a similar substance, even if it’s years later, the memory stuck with you.

You start off with his lower back - the place you know gives Joel the most trouble, especially after he’s given you a thorough pounding for three hours : lifting your ass up to his face while your tits are smashed against the mattress - stretching you while he bends over to lick. He loves the disgustingly whorish arch of your back he creates whenever he does this. Commanding you sit on his face after that - bending you over the kitchen table to rut into you. He even held you up against a tree on patrol once, thrusting into you. 

That one was the worst idea he’s had in a while. He’ll try and rub his lower back for days, insisting it’s not that bad and he doesn’t need your help. Even now when you’re just spreading oil, you can feel the knots under his skin.

He hums as your hands find the space between his neck and shoulders, massaging in slow circles as you feel all of his tension. Sliding down to rub in whale-tail movements - releasing. He goes quiet underneath you when you work it out with your hands. Taking your time to ensure the area is thoroughly tended to, before trailing them up along the muscles of his back and wide shoulders. 

You must spend an hour massaging his back, the cream has clearly soothed him - but nothing about you has been soothed. Ever since he woke up from falling asleep  about 30 minutes ago, he’s been moaning his appreciation. 

Evil, wicked man. 

You usually know when Joel is trying to get a rise out of you, but this time you’re not so sure - it doesn’t calm your horny rage. He may be the most relaxed man on earth right now, but your pussy is currently facing the wrath of a tsunami.

Your hands slide down his thighs, the muscle twitches underneath your thumbs as he grows quiet once again : almost pensive to see what you’ll do. You can’t help but grin at the sight of his backside.  He spreads his thighs only slightly, just so you can dig your thumbs into his calves and massage hours of crouching away : his groans and moans are a constant, the way he twitches and shivers at the pleasure and release. 

For a woman who’s currently staring at the semi that’s resting between his thighs, balls looking impossibly plumper from being raised by his cock that’s laying with its sticky tip pointing towards you - you’re doing a good job massaging him.  

He sighs softly as your hands slide back up his thighs, your thumbs slipping further inwards until he jerks at the feeling of your fingers brushing over his sac, watching how he twitches. You don’t miss the way his hands tighten, gripping the mattress. The oil on your hands slicks him up there too, and you finally see the vision you had earlier. 

His cock always looks gorgeous when it’s soaked in your juices, but there’s something special about seeing him spread out like this - vulnerable in your hands. His thick, meaty cock is soon to be covered in oil, but for now : the sight of his balls slicked up is more than enough. When your thumb pushes against his sensitive taint, he lets out a noise you’re not sure you’ve heard from him before, a soft whimper.  His skin is suddenly burning up.

“Honey-“ he rasps quietly when your palm wraps around his length, tugging towards yourself until your fingers slide over his now drooling tip. He tries to look back at you, but your hand leaves his taint to push down his spine, keeping him against the cushions.

“Shhh, baby. Relax f’me.” You whisper, placing a tender kiss to the shiny dimples on his back as he sinks down once more, legs falling open wider until you see that soft place you haven’t been brave enough to ask to explore yet. He subtly presses himself towards you, cock twitching almost as if to gain your attention. His bulbous tip pulsing red-hot like his skin. He’s always flushed so prettily during sex.

He whines when you grip his cock, a real needy punch of air, his back arching ever so slightly - lifting his ass to give you better access to where he needs you desperately. His taint and his throbbing erection. You’ve never seen him so desperate, so vulnerable.

He’d tried to be innocent, to not think about the way your hands were sliding over him - to enjoy the massage without getting turned on, and he was doing well. He was. 

That’s all out of the window now though. 

The slick sound of your hand is far more erotic than anything you heard on that adult video - Joel’s whimpers and moans will be the death of you. 

Pre-cum practically spurts out of his tip when you deliberately press down on his taint, squirming against your thumb. A strangled - broken gasp leaving him. You saw in the medical diagrams on your inspiration-room’s walls that the prostate can be stimulated through the taint - it feels like a safe leap. Regardless of the method, you want to see him squirm and fall apart.

“Baby–” He pants, glancing back at you, at your hands. Evidently, your wishes are coming true, judging by the hazy – almost drunk – look in his eyes.

“You like that?” you whisper, watching his face as you retract your thumb. He meets your eyes, before pushing himself backwards against your hand again. 

You decide you can’t process the sound that leaves him when you press harder- your pussy would explode. You’re sure of it.

“Turn over.” You whisper, because it’s suddenly all too much. The sight of his back, the oil, his moaning and what you desperately want to try with him. He glances at you with puppy-ish eyes before obeying - turning himself. You can’t help the way your eyes stick to his erection that stands strong the second he’s on his back. 

When you flip him onto his back, he blinks his eyes open for one second before you’re covering them with a towel, blocking his sight as he lies there - breathing heavily, making his shiny chest look even better as it expands and shifts. His nipples look pink and soft, his chest hair slicked to his skin. You wonder if he’ll come if you were to suck on the pebbled flesh. You want to try it, but you’re not done having your fun. The power you have right now goes straight to your pussy. 

You slide your hand through his slicked up happy trail like you do when you’re watching TV with him, scratching and playing with whatever hair of his you choose to. Usually he’s all slumped over after dinner, bloated like a tubby cat and purring, but now his stomach clenches tight from your trail, showing off the V of his hips. You can even see the abs under his soft stomach from how tightly-wound he is,  cock leaking copiously - fattened and aching. He looks close to tears, his teeth clenching in a frown that you’ve only seen when he’s lifting something really heavy. He’s close. 

When you wrap your hand around him from this position, you’re rewarded with even more sweet sounds, ones that make you regret waiting so long to hear them. The glide of your hand is smooth and deep, almost massaging his warm hardness. He sounds absolutely broken. His balls draw up and quiver, a choked gasp escaping his lips. You keep pumping, twisting your wrist at the tip with a little shk - watching as his stomach clenches even tighter, head tilting to the side like he can’t take it, the chords of his neck straining as his hands tighten amongst the towels, the way his dick twitches.

You pull away and his stomach clenches, hips jerking up as he groans his protest. His dick bobs and pulses, weeping precum as if it’s crying. 

You don’t expect him to use words, not when his thighs are visibly shaking with the yearning need his body has for release, when his breaths are little whines and whimpers. 

You think you might die right here, and he surely feels the same. 

When you return your hands, you watch his head tip back, throat constricting as your left pointer and thumb squeeze around his base, similar to how your right fingers assume position around the bottom curve of his tip. 

He whimpers slow and pathetic like he knows what you’re about to do to him. His thighs are already trying to move and squirm before you take your hand away, like he expected, to hold them down. 

Gripping his base tightly so he can’t release, yet stroking up and down in small movements against the bump of his leaking head so deliciously his thighs jump up, stomach clenching as his hands fly down to grip your waist - the towel falling off his eyes. His moan is more like a cry - a sob from deep within his chest. You want it to loop forever in your brain, the sight and sound of his pleasure. 

“Y- oh fuck - You’re a goddamn sadist-” he grunts, trying to squirm away and push into your touch at the same time. 

You keep teasing him like that for what must be ten minutes - until you think he might actually push through the pressure of your hand and cum anyway. You can feel the growing twitches of his cock, the way he’s boiling hot under your palm, the way his tip has gotten sticker with every tiny pump to the red underside. He’s a wreck - and you’re surprised he’s letting you have so much dominance, that he hasn’t pushed you off and fucked you into tomorrow. 

He likes this. 

His moans are the most beautiful and pathetic thing you’ve ever heard coming from his mouth. 

“Stop moving, baby.” You whisper, voice hoarse from the hours you’ve been silently massaging and teasing him. He turns his head to the side, shaking it, like he can’t take much of anything anymore.

“Can’t help it.” It’s so broken and shaky as he says it, you almost feel bad. Almost. A larger part of you is so aroused you’re leaking onto his thigh.

A lightbulb must’ve illuminated over your head, because you see the same glint reflected in his eyes - he’s on the same wavelength, and glances at your pussy.

“Then I’ll have to force them down, won’t I?” you whisper - shaky yourself now - as you mount his left thigh, sitting down as you wrap your palm around his bobbing erection once more.

“Baby, fuck-” he chokes out with a broken groan, darting his eyes to the ceiling, until they ultimately roll back and close - he’s trying not to come, even more so than he was before. You rock yourself back and forth against his sick thigh - the oil and your wetness seeping down and making a mess. It feels so good, the friction you’ve been waiting for since you started massaging him. 

His whimpers sound more like he’s on the verge of crying from how good he feels. How you’ve denied his orgasm for what must be 15 minutes. His chest is rising and falling so quickly from his panting he must be feeling lightheaded from it all.

You move even faster against his thigh - wanting to cum too, your arousal is crushing. His hands grip your hips tightly, shaking - rocking you back and forth, sitting up slightly to guide your movements as you squeeze and pump his cock like your life depends on it. He looks drunk - his weeping cock deep red and furious, leaking as much pre-cum as the mess you’ve made from riding his thigh. At one deep tug of your wrist, he spreads back out against the cushions, letting you plant your hand next to his head as you keep pulling on his fat, drooling erection.

Your fingers lock around the underside of his tip - teasing him so heavily with the waves of stimulation and denial he tries to twist himself away from you. Your weight on his thigh keeps him in place. “F-fuck baby, I can’t- ‘m gonna cum-” He groans, you see the goosebumps on his arms - the way his nipples harden - his hands continue to move your hips back and forth, grinding your pussy on him. 

“Wanna cum in you-“ he rasps, just as you feel that delicious twitch of him in your slick hands, his balls drawing up dangerously, and you know you can’t keep this one at bay. “Please, please baby-“ his mouth pulls into a frown, like he’s about to cry. Maybe he is. Biting his bottom lip as it wobbles dangerously, teeth bared as his thighs jump and twitch up and his stomach clenches. He’s about to cum, and is barely holding himself back for you.

You pull your hand away, and judging by the way his head jerks forward then back - his cock straining dangerously as his hands tighten in the sheets. He’s trying his best, holding his breath while doing so. 

He whines - whines - at you, thinking you’re going to leave him high and dry again, worried you’ll leave him with a ruined orgasm after being so kind. The same arms that execute violence without a struggle, the same legs that allow him to fight and move at an astonishing pace are the same ones that are currently quivering and shaking enough your touch. 

You’ve never seen him look this good. 

His breath hitches as you move off of his sopping thigh and  place his tip against your entrance, your own wetness running down his length. He’s begging for you, “Please let me cum.” he whimpers in a small, pathetic voice, his breath hiccuping, sweat dripping off of his shiny muscles. He can barely think about anything other than the feeling of your sweet pussy wrapped around him. 

The noise he makes twists your stomach and your sopping cunt when you slowly sit down on his cock, a strangled moan, breathy and perfect.  He’s whipped - and you can’t believe this side of him was waiting to be tapped into for so long. He’s practically given you his mind to take care of while he floats off into the submission you’ve offered him. 

Three bounces is all it takes, that’s all he needs. Those three glides of your soaked, warm pussy around his cock is all he needs to throw his head back, eyes rolling as he lets out the lewdest moan you’ve heard from him, his fingers blindly reaching for you — his callouses drag down from your belly button, your mound — down until he finds what he was looking for. “I’m cummin’ baby- oh sweet Jesus- please. I’m cummin’ I’m-“ His fingers rub your clit in two little circles and you're cumming with him. 

His cock twitches violently as his oiled up balls draw up - shooting their load inside you with more force than they ever have. He’s jerking forward, holding you against him as his hips desperately buck forward, pushing his spend so deep inside you it has to be primal.

He cums for what must be two minutes, pumping and grinding until the last dribbles of his cum are stuffed deep inside you, his face buried in your neck as a trembles from the intensity, breathing heavily against you.

He finally opens his eyes and glances down, moaning at the sight of his spend overflowing from your cunt, dripping down onto his pulsing sac. 

“Oh Christ, baby. I can’t- I-“ his plea breaks into a strangled whine, “too much.” He chokes out, and you gently pull off of him, the both of you panting. You watch as his wet cock - coated in your arousal, oil and his own pearly cum slaps back against his clenching stomach, a few dribbles of his precious seed smearing over his skin. 

His jaw goes slightly slack as he watches you bend forward to lick it up, pulling you into a kiss that’s all tongue so he can taste it. 

“Feel better?” You hum with a smile as he pulls away, breathless and flopping back onto the cushions. 

“Mhm.” He pants, “20 years younger, honey.” 

“Well good, ‘cause the bath is drawn and I’ve got dinner and dessert ready for after-“ 

You blink and he’s managed to stand and pick you up, hoisting you over his shoulder.

He smiles at your giggles and the fact that he didn’t click a single time carrying you up the stairs. The grin on his face only intensifies when he smacks your backside, and you manage to smack his back. 

“Thanks for takin’ care of me, honey bee.” He whispers to you after cupping your cheek for a kiss, guiding you into the bath with him. He wants to hold you close for the rest of the evening, fall asleep to your voice chatting away while he rests in your arms. 

“Always, cowboy.” 

-------❦-------- a/n : Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please lmk and reblog ♡

[mushratting]

i feel like nobody gets the toriel/sans scene at the end of chapter four. im crazy.

in my opinion the point of that scene was never to try to imply that toriels a bad mom. full stop i dont think that assigning morality to that scene at All is productive. kris isnt a bad kid either for being upset. but also it isnt a scene thats just supposed to be for laughs. it is in fact a secret third thing.

its more about the whole setup with chapter 4 and kris and susie both kinda tweaking about toriel being in the church and it turns out she canceled choir practice because it was raining. and one can argue that toriel should have called kris to let them know her change of plans, but she thought kris would just be out with susie and would just come home when theyre supposed to. im pretty sure its the weekend! and one could also argue that kris should have tried to contact her and confirm she was in the church at all. but atthe end of the day, realistic depiction of miscommunication (or lack of communication at all.)

i think that toriel getting wine drunk with a stranger is kind of an L dont get me wrong. but also im gonna be so real. speaking with my certifications as a child of divorce, sometimes you come home and your moms invited some stranger either into your home or into your life. being a single parent is fucking wack, and it puts strain in a bunch of ways on the relationship between parent and child. its uncomfortable being a kid in that situation, but at the same time thats sometimes just how it goes. not saying its good! but it isnt "morally evil" or anything like that.i guess the feeling is something along the lines of 'i dont think i have the right to deny my mom a chance at happiness with someone just because im uncomfortable'. and i think in this scene it really hits that chord, at least for me. #childofdivorcerune

BUT. my thoughts do not end here. i think that the framing of that scene also says a lot. as the player, its honestly kind of a breath of fresh air to see that toriels safe, sans again, and also a bunch of awesome animation. we as the player also have a preconceived notion of sans already so he really isnt a stranger to a lot of people playing the game. like at least thats sans from the tumblr sexyman twitter poll. or at least undertale. dont get me wrong the scene is definately still uncomfortable, but it has this goofy ass situation to it that for the player diffuses a lot of tension.

basically i also think that the framing of that scene intentionally sets you up to minimize kris's feelings by setting the tone as something more comedic instead of upsetting. which i think ties into the way the narration and setup of deltarune tries to constantly pretend that kris is an empty vessel when theyre really not.

ok thus concludes my thoughts i literally couldnt sleep until i got this out of my system

[reminiscingthesea]

FINALLY WRITING SMTH FOR THIS AMAZING ARTWORK MADE BY @/yowowo1101 ON TWITTER/X!!

A/N: ok my last work FLOPPED but I don’t blame you guys it was lowk ass🫩 hope this one brings some of you lot back tho!!

Warning: Foul language, violence, fem reader, personality swap AU between Phainon and Mydei, reader is a trailblazer on Amphoreus alongside Stelle and Dan Heng (taking place during 3.0 quest line), pretty long fic, and a bit shitty tbh. Ngl, this was supposed to be. Phainon x reader x Mydei fic, but it seems more like a Mydei x reader fic so IDK SORRY😭😭😭

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Darkness set over the city of Okhema, as villagers and citizens alike retreated back into their quaint homes, children halting at their play time activities as their parents would call for them from within the many houses scattered throughout the land.

Having just experienced a.. less than welcoming, but appropriate and fair interrogation by Lady Aglaea regarding you and your trailblazing companions’ true intentions on Amphoreus, the three of you- you, Stelle, and Dan Heng-, made your way back to your shared room near the quiet- but safe- outskirts of the city, reminiscing on your time here on Amphoreus so far, discussing recent affairs and events.

“Though, I do believe Lady Aglaea can be trusted,” Dan Heng murmured thoughtfully, his chin locked between his two fingers as he spoke, inquisitive as ever. “While she may hold some distrust or suspicion towards us, even after her interrogation, we can only give her and the other heirs some more time to get used to us, and our sudden appearance.”

Stelle hummed in consideration, folding her arms over her chest as she walked alongside you two. “Dan Heng, [Name], what do you guys think of the other heirs? Y’know, Castorice, Tribbie, Mydei, Phainon?”

The three of you had made it to your shared room now, opening it as you all gathered your own thoughts and opinions on each heir, how they made you feel.

Castorice, the heiress of Death. Ever so quiet and kind, yet deadly. One wrong move around her and you would go ‘poof!’ quite literally. Having to keep a five pace distance from her and all, remembering how many times you had to quickly drag Stelle away from her every time she tried to go near her from behind, as if not believing a word she said. Well, at least she knew now..

Tribbie, the Demigod of Passage. You met her alongside Phainon in Janusopollis when you all first arrived on Amphoreus after the Express Car crashed. Despite her youthful appearance, she herself is by no means extremely wise and uplifting, and not to mention, her age being thousands of years. The other two- whom refer to themselves collectively- she surrounds herself with- Trinnon and Trianne- seem to complete her in thirds. Trinnon reminds you of Castorice slightly, being the shyest of the three, yet, holding so much knowledge at the tips of her fingers, being a reader of fate and all. And Trianne, oh so mischievous and cunning, so loud and confident. Yet, bears the duty as the gatekeeper of the Century Gate. Maybe her over-usage of the phrase ‘slay, slay, slay!’ is a way to cope? Somehow.

Mydei, the heir of.. Strife? Though Phainon is planning to take on the trial of Strife, the title as its Demigod seemed to fit Mydei more, considering his own title as the ‘Crowned Prince of Castrum Kremnos’, and the fact that Castrum Kremnos is a land that hails the titan of Strife, Nikador. He is definitely… fitting of the title. So aggressive and brutal with his foes, you thought to yourself, making a mental note of making sure not to get on his bad side. Though, there are rumors circulating around the city, that Mydei absolutely adores pomegranate juice with milk, as well as sweet and fluffy honeycakes. In all honesty, that sounded quite cute, despite him being adorned in red tattoos all over his exposed body.

And finally, Phainon, of Aedes Elysiae, the heir of the World-bearing coreflame, and goes by the title of the Deliverer of Amphoreus. Though, why is it that he wants the coreflame of Strife? You’d never know. Phainon, at first, seemed cocky, almost irritating at times. When you first met him. But as time went on, he became less wary of you, and acted as your personal travel guide for Amphoreus, even saving you from Aglaea’s scary trial, and the deathly aura of Castorice.. He definitely seemed trustworthy, and his light, upbeat, and confident demeanor made your time less scary than it already was, and his awkward jokes from time to time did make things a little less daunting.

“Hmm.. Castorice seems really sweet, but we should be careful of her, considering her less-than-safe powers. Looking at you, Stelle.” You began, eyeing Stelle with a stern gaze once you mentioned her name, who would simply giggle awkwardly and sink into her bed, to avoid being under your scary eyes. Dan Heng simply smiled to himself, discarding his top few layers, so that he was left in his undershirt.

“Tribbie seems cool too, but her and her sisters- or fragments.. seem to hold big duties together. I wonder if we’ll ever find out more about them.”

“I agree. But they seem capable of many things, considering their feats, and the trust Lady Aglaea has in them as their disciple.” Dan Heng replied considerately, nodding along to what you were saying.

“Mydei.. he’s definitely the angry type for sure. So brazen and brutish. Not to mention his lack of death. He seems scary, but I’m sure we’ll get on his good side, right?”

Not exactly waiting for a response through your reasonable tone, you continued.

“Phainon. He’s quite nice, and good with his words. I say we keep him close, he did save us from the clutches of Death during Aglaea’s trial. He seems reasonably smart, too, he knows his way around Amphoreus like it’s the back of his hand.. But no doubt about the fact that he’s the complete opposite of Mydei!”

With that, you slumped onto your own bed with a sigh, gently kicking your shoes off and falling back onto the pillowy goodness of the mattress. Gosh, Aglaea really wasn’t lying when she said she’d accommodate you guys with the finest of rooms in Okhema.. these are better than the ones in the Reverie back in Penacony!

“Well then, I believe we should all get some rest. We all must be tired from today’s trailblaze expedition, I know I am..” Dan Heng announced quietly, but you could hear his tone of nonchalance fading slightly near the end of his sentence. The tire must be getting to him too.

Once you finished properly getting ready for bed, you hopped right under the heavenly warm covers, snuggling them close to your chest. Ahh… it’s like all your aches from injuries of every past trailblaze mission has vanished like thin air.

But sleep did not come easily to you, of course not. Not without Stelle’s abnormally loud snoring, or Dan Heng’s constant sleep talking and shuffling.. So what does one do when they can’t sleep, or contact the outside world? Simple! They think.

Thinking back at the people you had met today, two in particular stood out to you the most. Phainon and Mydei. Both guys had completely differing personalities, in fact, their whole beings opposed each other entirely! Mydei, with his signature red and oranges that resembled bravery and terror, and Phainon, with his dashing blues and yellows that resembled the day’s sunny skies. Not to forget how Phainon stayed modest and conserved in his choice of clothing, whereas Mydei was more… open.. with his choice of clothes. Not that you were complaining, though. And at last, their tones of voice. Phainon had a more gentler, more graceful tone, naturally. But Mydei had a resting tone of aggression and pride, but it did have its softer moments, of course.

Taking into account their differentiating characteristics and way of thinking, you couldn’t help but wonder something..

What would it be like if they had the other’s personality?

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As the sunlight of a new day beamed into your eyes, you sat up weakly with a groan, rubbing your eyes, and stretching your limbs, resulting in a satisfying ‘pop!’ sound from one of your legs, neck, and spine. Ahhh… that felt so good, you needed that.

Recovering from your daze, you glanced around the room, but there were no signs of Stelle or Dan Heng. Under normal circumstances, the average person may become confused or worried for their companions. But not you! Not in a bad way or anything, but in the essence of trailblazing, it has become a custom to wander off without warning other people. Not a very good custom, but still a custom! You figured they were probably out and about in the city of whatnot.

As you freshened up and got ready for a new day in Amphoreus, a heavy sounding, yet somehow, gentle knock, could be heard coming from outside your room’s door.

“Come in!” You called out absentmindedly as you fixed up your hair and put away your toothpaste at the mirror’s desk in the room.

Slowly, the door opened. Maybe it was Stelle, Dan Heng, Phainon, or one of the other heirs. But what you heard next definitely did not seem right.

“Partner!! Good morning! How did you sleep, I hope you slept well, with the room Aglaea gave you and all.”

Huh?

What??

That voice. The words. Those were the words that a certain Deliverer clad in blues, whites, yellows would say. But the voice.. no. It couldn’t be. It was too deep to be-

You suddenly whipped your head around like a hawk to the sound of the rich voice, and oh were you not prepared for what you saw.

It was Mydei. Crowned Prince of Castrum Kremnos. In the Deliverer’s clothes?? What??? His amber-golden eyes, which were once narrowed like a cat’s, were now bigger, and full of more light and energy. He still had his signature red tattoos, but less of them were seen, considering how he HAS THE PHAINON’S CLOTHES ON FOR SOME REASON???

“Uh.. Partner? Are you okay? Do you need some water or..?”

“Mydei. W-why, why, do you have Phainon’s clothes on. And why are you talking like him?? Is this some sort of prank I’m not a part of..??” You started checking Mydei out fully now, taking note of his attire and now contrasting demeanour.

At this, Mydei looked at you all puzzled and confused, before a grin adorned his face, which was immediately out of view as he threw his head back and laughed boisterously, to which you laughed along, albeit, awkwardly. Maybe this was just some odd joke after all.. is what you would’ve thought if he had stopped laughing by now.

“W-wha-hahahahaha!! What on Amphoreus are you- are you talking about, [Name]?!” Mydei exclaimed, his loud laughter breaking up his words as he tried speaking. Soon enough though, he calmed down, a hand on his chest to alleviate his ever-so quick beating heart, panting softly under his breath, a big smile still on his face as he began once more.

“Listen, [Name]. I don’t know how you managed to draw a conclusion like that. But me? Wearing Phainon’s clothes? Talking like him? You must be out of your mind! Here, let me remind you who I am once more.” He cleared his throat with a little ‘ahem.’, his face now one of seriousness and focus.

“I, am Mydeimos, of Aedes Elysiae. The Deliverer of Amphoreus.”

What..? Was this just some weird dream? You had to pinch yourself to make sure. Ouch! Okay, not a dream.. but this was still really odd. Was this the result of the ever-growing black tide? You had to message the other’s about this. Quickly dismissing yourself, you pulled your phone out to message the other two in your group chat.

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[Name]: “Guys, we have a problem. Mydei is talking strange, he keeps saying things about being from Aedes Elysiae, and being the Deliverer of Amphoreus. Those are Phainon’s titles. Speaking of Phainon, he’s wearing his clothes too!!”

∀ Message failed to send.

∀ The user you are trying to reach is currently out of the service area. Please try again later.

What.. this made no sense. You were able to contact freely between Stelle and Dan Heng in your little group chat just fine, even on Amphoreus! So then why-

“[Name]? Are you okay? Seriously. I can get you Lady Hyacine if you must..” Snapped out of your stupor, your head turned downwards to Mydei’s hand- gloved rather than encased in his golden gauntlets- on your arm gently. Your eyes then slowly went up to meet his, which were slightly widened even further with concern, a soft, worried look on his face. Completely out of character for him.

“I-I’m fine. I’m just a bit confused, that’s all.. maybe I didn’t sleep right.” Many thoughts were travelling through your mind at quintuplet miles per hour. But one stood out from the rest. Something wasn’t right. But all you knew you could do was to simply play along. Considering your weakened communications with others, the safest thing you could do was play along and hope for the best.

“Maybe.. Here, how about this? I’ll take you out to Marmoreal Market for some breakfast. My treat! C’mon, I’ll have you try Phainon’s favourite thing ever! Sweetened honeycakes, the fluffiest of the bunch. But don’t tell him I said that, or he’ll have me flying back to Aedes Elysiae with a mere punch!” With that, he, uncharacteristically, grabbed your hand and began leading you out of your room, and into the vast open, taking you to the city happily.

As the two of you walked, his hand, warm as ever, never left yours. He greeted many with beaming smiles and waves, making sure to pat the heads of passing children, and lightly scolding the ones who would run a bit too fast. His kind, upbeat, energetic tone that matched Phainon’s, seemed so uncanny to be spoken from Mydei’s vocal cords, his deep, rich tone didn’t match the words spoken at all..

You couldn’t help but wonder, how would Phainon in this.. alternate reality act? Sure, he may have the personality of the Mydei you grew so familiar of before, but the thought of him having his personality seemed so.. foreign. Odd.

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Soon enough, you were both seated in a small, quiet cafe in the heart of the Marmoreal Market. Despite the early morning, the outside city was already bustling with street vendors and activity. In front of you, sat a pretty plate of perfectly stacked honeycakes, which were absolutely drenched in golden syrup, making your mouth water. Whilst the strange circumstances creeped you out, you definitely weren’t complaining about this sweet treat!

“I asked the waiter for extra syrup. The sweetness would make sure to wake you up properly, getting you ready for a full day! So tell me, [Name], was is it that you want to do today? If you have nothing better to do, you can watch me and Phainon spar! Though, you may wanna bring some pillows along, we can go for ages.”

Phainon. You really wanted to meet him in this different reality too, would he be shirtless like the Mydei you’re so familiar with? Adorned in those shining blue jewels?

“I’d like to do that. Er, so what’s Phainon like then? I assume he may be aggressive, doesn’t exactly wear much, very direct and brutish, perchance..?” Your tone was cautious as you spoke, your eyebrow lifting up slightly in intrigue.

At this, Mydei’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth going agape, just like the Phainon you met before.

“I.. how did you know? Wait. How did you even know about Phainon in the first place? I haven’t introduced you to him yet..”

Drat. Your face paled as he questioned you. According to the Mydei of this alternate timeline, you had not yet met the Phainon of this timeline. Quick, you have to think of something-

“Um. Met him on a whim! Yeah! He was out.. uh, battling the black tide. He seemed very brutish and rowdy! Nothing like you!- Not like that matters or anything.”

Mydei hummed to himself, deep in thought as he looked away momentarily, his fingers locking around his chin. His eyes didn’t meet yours, but you could tell they held suspicion behind them, even if you couldn’t exactly see them.

“..I see.” He spoke finally, his eyes coming back to meet yours. “Well then, looks like an introduction with him isn’t in order then. And sorry if I’m making you feel uncomfortable or whatnot. It’s just that you got his personality spot on. But I’m sure it’s pretty obvious the kinda guy he is, with his way of fighting and all.”

You could only nod helplessly, finishing up your breakfast and cleaning your area, motioning for a waiter and pulling out your wallet, only to be stopped by Mydei with his hand covering yours over the small table.

“Please. Allow me. I said this was my treat after all.”

“But-“

“No buts! I am a man of my words, I don’t go back on them mindlessly. Here, Miss.” Without giving you a moment to protest, he handed his own money to the waitress, smiling sweetly as she left with a gentle bow.

“You really didn’t have to..”

“Oh, hush, you. Anyways, I need to run some errands with Lady Aglaea and some other heirs. Wanna join me?”

You nodded your head, yes, in response. You wondered if the other heirs withheld their own personality, or if theirs had been mismatched with each other’s.

But Mydei with Phainon’s personality, huh? You didn’t know what the latter would be like, but you could get used to this…

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After a while of Mydei walking around Okhema with you, talking to the other heirs present in the city- such as Tribbie, Castorice, and Aglaea. Who seemed no different from before, to your relief, but also slight disappointment- he turned to face you.

“[Name]. Now that I’ve given you a full tour of the Holy City, I think Phainon will be coming soon to spar with me. And don’t worry, we’ll just be doing it in some outskirts, nowhere near others. How does that sound?”

You contemplated for a moment, you hadn’t seen Phainon and Mydei spar before in your own timeline, so a spar between their polar opposite selves wouldn’t exactly be fair, to put it straight. But then again.. it intrigued you, considering the fact that you had seen their own ways of fighting individually themselves.

“It’s a deal. Should we get going?”

Mydei nodded happily, a bright smile on his perfect uncharacteristically cheerful face. Grabbing your hand in his larger one once more, he began taking you to where he and Phainon would spar.

Practically dragging you on your feet now, Mydei’s expression became giddier, a pep in his step now.

“You seem awfully excited, Mydei. Are you ready to fight Phainon?”

Mydei only turned to you with a huff, and a boyish, toothy grin on his face, resembling something that would be on Phainon’s face.

“Excited is an understatement. I’m stoked to fight the guy. The last time we did, we went for hours on end, going into the night time before we were stopped by Lady Aglaea. Neither of us came to a winning, nor a losing. So this battle will truly determine, who the stronger one between us is!” His voice was now laced with exhilaration and elation, but his tone began to resonate more with the Mydei-you-knew’s voice near the end of his little speech.

After a little more walking, you both reached a small plot of land, still within Okhema, but still separated away from others, to avoid potential injuries of passerbys.

The land, being small, faced the dawn device, and was grassy, yet somehow, still spacious. The perfect space for a spar. Looking around eagerly, Mydei turned his head numerous times, looking for Phainon. Before, a familiar, yet, booming voice sounded from afar.

“Deliverer! I believe we have a score to settle.”

The two of you whipped your heads around to see, Phainon.. walking towards you, and oh my, was it a sight to behold.

Yes, it was as you speculated before, Phainon was now adorned in Mydei’s clothes- or should you say, garments?- Just like him, he was shirtless, and oh was it truly a sight, a masterpiece. That sun tattoo that was on the other timeline’s Phainon’s neck was still there, but there was now one directly under his eye- his right one to be exact. His once tidy, white locks, were now messier, and that cute little ahoge of his that once stood up so perfectly, now lay flatter against his head of pearly hair.

Normally, Phainon was the literal face of joy, whimsicality, and kindness. But now, since their personalities had swapped, his facial expression was completely different.

It was angrier, less welcoming. More stern, more cautious, less welcoming and kind. Just like Mydei’s from before. His blue, dawn-like eyes, narrowed as he neared the pair of you, his big, muscular arms crossing over his generous, toned chest as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you with a quizzing, distrusting expression.

“Who is this you’ve brought along. I don’t recognise them.”

Shit. Mydei would catch onto your lie if you weren’t quick enough.

“O-oh! I forgot to mention that I saw him from a distance!! We didn’t interact- erm, his way of fighting told me the type of person he is, that’s all!” You internally cringed as you thought back to how utterly stupid you sounded. There was no way in hell Mydei would buy this, especially considering the absolutely dumbfounded look on Phainon’s face now, an eyebrow cocked upwards in response, his gaze on Mydei now.

“Oh, I see.. makes sense, I guess. Well then!” Mydei claps his hands together and smirks at Phainon, who momentarily glances at you, before shooting back an equally as determined a grin back at Mydei. “Let’s get this party on the road, no doubt I’ll beat you this time, Phainon.”

“Bring it on, Deliverer. I’ll show you how we Kremnoans do it!” Phainon, a Kremnoan now? Now that was even more of a shock, considering how he would always go by the title- ‘Phainon, of Aedes Elysiae’- all the time in your own timeline. But then again, you weren’t in that timeline, you were in a completely different place.

Slowly, you moved out the way, taking a seat under a tree in the shade.

“Be my cheerleader, [Name]! Need some support from my favourite trailblazer!” Mydei boomed proudly from afar as he drew his sword- Phainon’s sword- before winking at you charmingly.

At that, you blushed slightly. It was good bad enough Mydei had adopted Phainon’s characteristics in this dream, but it was even worse knowing he also got his corniness!! Slumped against the hard wood of the tree behind you, you waited for the two to start sparring.

And soon enough, they did. Phainon drew his hands up, which were, of course, encased in Mydei’s gauntlets. Phainon’s hands tried throwing a swift punch to Mydei’s face in a side punch, only to be deflected by Mydei’s sword, and pushed back quickly.

But Phainon didn’t relent, as he swung his fists up once more, throwing punch after punch towards Mydei’s sides and torso now, which he successfully managed to do a few times, earning a wince from you. Mydei, however, reacted just as nonchalantly to Phainon’s strong punches, as he too, began striking his sword towards Phainon’s chest now, whilst also bringing his knee up from below up to Phainon’s stomach.

Swing after swing, slash after slash, the two carried on tirelessly, sustaining injury after injury, yet neither admitting defeat.

Mydei, whose hair was now tussled up, resembling his original form’s hair, jumped back as Phainon tried landing a sharp kick to his side, and shot his sword, aiming for Phainon’s exposed waist.

‘CHIRRK!!’

Mydei’s sword impaled Phainon through his waist with that loud sound, and as he pulled his sword back, golden blood flowed freely from his wound, yet he seemed unfazed.

But you didn’t. Hastily getting up from your spot on the floor, you ran up to Phainon, pushing a confused, almost crazed, Mydei out the way.

“P-phainon! Are you okay?!” You exclaimed, trying to examine his wound properly as you sat him down, eyeing his form up and down.

“I-I’m fine. Hey. Shouldn’t you know I can regenerate myself quickly?? I won’t die from a mere sword stabbing me.” Your eyes widened, looking into Phainon’s, which were also filled with confusion, just like Mydei’s.

Then, it dawned on you. Mydei. The Mydei of your Amphoreus had instant regeneration capabilities, as Phainon once said. But before you could get another word out, Mydei interrupted you, now coming to kneel next to Phainon on the ground, eyeing you suspiciously.

“[Name]. You’ve been acting awfully suspicious today. First, saying I’m wearing Phainon’s clothes, talking like Phainon, and even giving me weird looks whenever we talk. Then, you say you’ve met Phainon before, despite me not having introduced him to you yet. But it seems to me you haven’t. You say you’ve seen him in battle before, but you don’t even know his capabilities.”

Mydei now sat comfortably on the grass next to Phainon, who had an unreadable look on his face, yet, you could tell he was incredibly wary of you nonetheless. Mydei held an expression of concern, worry, and disdain on his face as he looked at you, as if unable to decipher who you were, your true motives or whatnot.

You stumbled upon your words, not knowing what to say. Should you say you’re in a dream? Should you say you’ve gone mad??

“I think.. I’m in a dream or something.” You rubbed your head slightly, trying to think back to your actual memories now. “In my world- or- what I’m familiar with, you two are the complete opposite. In fact, the Mydei of this world acts more like the Phainon of this world, whereas the Phainon of this world, acts more like the Mydei of this world, in the world I’m familiar with. If that makes any sense..”

Met with complete silence, you didn’t dare try to meet their gazes, which must be ridden with even more bewilderment and perplexity. Ugh. None of this made sense! But for some reason, you continued, as if trying to add more fuel to this baffling fire.

“Additionally, I’m also missing my two companions, a girl and a guy, Stelle and Dan Heng. You two knew them in my world, as we’ve been exploring Amphoreus together as a three since we got here. Mydei. Taking in the fact that you know I’m a Trailblazer, with how you addressed me earlier, you should be aware that I’m not here on my own accord, right?”

At this, Mydei looked at you intuitively, trying to piece you apart in his mind, before slowly nodding his head in response. He and Phainon shared a quick glance as he began speaking.

“..Your story seems to make some sense, I suppose. It would explain your confusion, as well as how you know Phainon’s fighting techniques, and his personality.” Carefully, Mydei stood up, extending a hand downwards for you to grab onto as you two lifted yourself onto your feet, Phainon copying after you.

“If indeed, you are in a dream, then I suppose we should get you to bed, no? So you can return to the real world.” His question was simple, yet his expression and tone seemed slightly somber, almost.. sad? Swiftly averting your gaze toward’s Phainon’s face, he too, shared that same look of loss.

“I..I guess so. Lead the way then, Mydei.” You answered distantly, taking his hand, walking alongside Phainon with you in tow.

None of this made sense. But then again, dreams also don’t make sense.

.

.

After some time, you had reached your room once more, the same room you’ve grown so familiar with in the Amphoreus you knew yourself, along with your trailblazing companions. The silence was deafening as you entered your room, giving one last glance towards Mydei and Phainon, to which you swore you could see a look of pain flash through their features for a split second.

“If.. I may.” Phainon spoke softly, his tone becoming more apparent and clear. “In the Amphoreus you know, I want you to tell their Phainon one thing. If he is truly the same bubbly, annoying, Deliverer of this Amphoreus, I want you to tell him that he’s stupid. And should listen to whatever the Crowned Prince tells him to do. Got it?”

Mydei’s face suddenly contorted to one of betrayal and shock, spinning to face Phainon, who was already making his way, back turned as his broad shoulders bounced lazily.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Sprinting quickly after him, you could only shut the door and lock it, fumbling slightly with the lock, as exhaustion creeped into your being.

If indeed, this was a dream. Then you should rest. You’re done playing Robin in Wonderland for today.

Dipping under the covers, still soft as ever, a scene of sinking into the bubbles of the beds in the Reverie Hotel back in Penacony replays in your mind as you drift off, shifting from the land of dreams, back to the realm of the living.

.

.

.

“Look! She’s waking up!”

Your eyes shot open felt yourself being shaken wildly by something- or someone, as well as your name being called out repeatedly.

“W-what? What? Am I back??” You muttered sleepily under your breath, back shooting up as you sat up straight in quick succession, only for a wave of nausea and dizziness to overcome your senses as you did, and a gentle hand pushing you back down onto the covers.

“Hey, [Name]. Can you see us? It’s me, Phainon, your friends are here. They said you weren’t responding at all, you were all motionless and unmoving. They were really worried..”

That voice..

Your eyes fluttered open better now as you took in your surroundings properly. Above you, was Stelle, Dan Heng, Phainon, Aglaea, and Mydei, with Tribbie and Castorice waiting at the door from afar. Each of them looked down at you, their expressions full of concern and worry, some being more pronounced than others.

“P-Phainon.. of Castrum Kremnos..” You uttered softly under your breath. Around you, soft gasps and chuckles could be heard, but a loud, boisterous laugh could be heard from Mydei as he folded his arms and looked down at you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Am I hearing things correctly, or did you just say ‘Phainon, of Castrum Kremnos’? What types of dreams have you been having..” Mydei teased lightly, shoving Phainon’s side as he spoke, to which Phainon only responded by halting his movements, and looking down at you carefully.

“Hey, buddy.. seems like you’ve been having some awful dreams about Mydei, huh?..” “Hey. What?! They mentioned your name!” “Just relax, and take the time you need, ‘kay? We’ll be waiting outside.” Phainon began leading the other heirs out peacefully, nonchalantly, as Mydei followed angrily, just like in your dream..

And speaking of your dream..

“Phainon! You’re stupid! A-and you should listen to everything the Crowned Prince tells you to do!!” Immediately, Phainon jerked his head back, whilst Mydei burst out laughing, keeling over whilst trying to pull Phainon back as he tried to storm back inside, only to be stopped by the room’s door being slammed in his face by Dan Heng speedily, a soft sigh coming from his mouth.

“Well then.. that explains most of it.” He huffed as he came to sit next to you on your bed, looking down at you with a soft look of distress and trouble on his face, as well as a look of relief, too.

“To put it straight, [Name]. You were unconscious for ages. You slept for nearly the whole morning, but you felt cold, dead, almost..” Stelle whispered gently, sitting next to Dan Heng, her full yellow eyes filled with peace. “We called Phainon and Aglaea for help, but it seems they brought the other heirs alongside them too. Everyone was really worried about you, especially Phainon, and Mydei, for some reason.”

“It was an odd dream.. Mydei and Phainon had swapped personalities, clothes, and everything.. The other heirs stayed the same, so it was just those two that had changed..” you wanted to say more, how neither Stelle nor Dan Heng were present, how Mydei found it suspicious that you knew the type of person Phainon was, how they both seemed.. upset when you told them it was a dream. But the words fell dry on your tongue, and you didn’t feel like talking.

“Seems like it took a lot out you then, [Name]. Just get some more rest, Stelle and I shall take on today for you. We’ll talk later once you’re better.”

And once more, your head swam as you hesitantly let the warm, soft materials of your covers and bed lull you to sleep once again, drifting off, disconnecting from the world- the real world- around you, cyclically.

.

.

“Wait. Stelle. Look at this message they sent us a few hours ago. In the middle of the night. It only sent just now..”

[mullermilkshake]

An experiment.

L is looking for ties and leads to Kira.

L (Death Note) x Fem!reader DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Non-con,L is a virgin,Vaginal fingering,Cunnilingus,unprotected sex,Referenced stalking,Kidnapping,Vaginal sex,Cream pie

<<< For more content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“I don’t know who Light Yagami is!” It had been a lifetime in that room deprived of your sight. 

“You do know him, I listened to that phone call you made. It isn’t wise to lie to me.” You didn’t know who spoke, the voice you couldn’t recognise but all you knew was that he had introduced himself as L.

Exhaustion didn’t quite cover it, being bound and exposed while he touched you in all the ways a stranger shouldn’t. You were a science experiment to him, testing ways to make you squeal and what made you squirm, though he never talked to anyone else except for himself. 

It sounded like he was making mental notes whenever he made you orgasm in that freezing echoey room, legs in stirrups it felt like. And somehow, he managed it every single time, mumbling to himself every orgasm he accomplished that made you wet and writhing despite your protests.

“I don’t. I-I really don’t. I just want to go home, please just let me go.”

“Now why would I do that?” It was so sinister, only his breath past the blindfold in the deafening silence.

“Because…” You thought carefully. “Because I believe you can be a good person and this is all just a mistake.”

That was a lie you told yourself. It didn’t seem at all that you could ever leave, remaining here forever with a sicko who had never revealed himself to you. You didn’t recognise anything about him, voice smooth and calm, completely pleasurable to your ears and tender touch against your exposed and bare skin lingering a little longer than what was acceptable. 

All of that in an uncomplicated time were characteristics some looked for in a partner. But not you, you despised him, loathed his actual existence to the point you often thought about how you would inflict pain on him. 

Strangling was the most common thought to drag against your numb deprived brain. As soon as he unshackled you, unrestrained you, both of your hands would wrap themselves tightly around his neck and squeeze and squeeze until he stopped moving so you could escape. He didn’t sound extraordinarily big, though knowing your luck, he was probably six foot tall and built like an Ox.

“You really believe I’m a good person?”

No. “Yes.”

“You don’t believe that.” He pressed two fingers to your neck and chuckled quietly though it still echoed in the lonesome room.

“Your heart rate has elevated and your breathing says otherwise, like I said before, it isn’t wise to lie to me if you want to leave. Though with all your reservations, I am in fact a good person. I wouldn't work for the police if I wasn’t.”

The police? What? A man as malicious as himself worked for the people who were supposed to keep you safe and to protect you. Not to use you like a toy for some fucked up twisted intrusive thoughts for a power play.

“I’m incredibly trusted, did you know that? There are three men in the next room, all of whom trust my decision… The cameras are off right now. But when they come back on, anything you say, would be what Kira would say. And they would take it at face value.”

Why was he not listening to you, was he that twisted? “I’m not Kira!”

“I know. Though I am curious as to what you are. You still have yet to give me that answer and no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get the right perspective.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Your body. I’m struggling to define its boundaries because you react differently every time.” His fingers brushed against the skin of your thigh, tingling away at the slightest touch and exposure to the chill in the air. 

“Don’t touch me. Please let me go.”

There was a rustle of fabric, shuffle of paper and scribbling. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands now, are you?”

His tone was calmer than ever, contact remained as you registered that it was his fingertips, moving slowly up your leg to your sensitive area, private from prying eyes. You weren’t sure if you were even covered up half the time.

You’d asked yourself so many times over why was he doing this to you, why did he pick you to bring in and question. But that wasn’t what left your lips. “How could you do this to someone?”

You heard something audible behind the blindfold and a long pause. Then he said, “It’s odd of you to ask that. About ninety percent of people in your position would have asked why I’m doing this, not how. I’ll indulge you, but only this once. I do this just because I can, wouldn't you if you had the power of the NPA and Task Force behind you?”

“No… I wouldn’t do anything so cruel.” All you could do was tear up, wetting the blindfold so that it stuck to your face.

“I wouldn’t say it was cruel, just an experiment. You see, I get extremely bored and you have piqued my interest. I want to see what exactly makes you tick, what excites you and pushes you over the edge that renders you immobile.” There was a heavy and suffocating pause. “I don’t actually give a damn about Kira, not since I found you. But I need to keep up appearances of course.”

“Found me?” That implied he was looking for you and this whole thing was not by accident. 

“You’re quite vocal when you want to be, all on your own in your bedroom. I want to hear that again, only I want to do it myself. I’m fascinated by your body and I want to understand what strings to pull.”

…Bedroom? There was no way he had seen your bedroom. 

Why is he saying these things? As if all he’d done already wasn’t enough. You wanted to be sick, make a scene and spit on him for what he was pulling, lying about everything that left his lips. The police could stop him if they knew, there must be some sort of way to get a message out you hoped, but how you weren't sure since the cameras were off.

“I know what you’re thinking. How on earth has he seen my bedroom? Well it's simple to deduce when you enter your apartment complex, then you cross reference how long it would take to get to the highest floor by either the elevator or walking, seeming as your complex is only a few floors and judging by your physical fitness, the probability of you using the stairs was high.”

That pause again, nothing good came of it. “I only had to wait for you to come home in the dark and wait for a light to turn on. You should really invest in a blackout blind, anyone could sit on that tree just outside your window and look in.”

You remembered. One night not long before you ended up in this place, you thought you had seen something outside your window past your net curtains. Though, when you looked out there was nothing there so you dismissed it as a bird or wild animal. It had been summer and it got you all hot and bothered. 

“Seeing you touch yourself in that way got me thinking if I could replicate it, but since now, nothing has gotten you there.” 

His fingers moved and pressed against you, the restraints stopped you from moving, there was no room to flinch or pull away. They were inside you quickly, but he was gentle and kept that way when his tongue moved there too, licking up the entire length of you, moving slowly and purposefully over your clit so it made you jolt involuntarily. 

Here he went again, he’d keep going until you came. Guaranteed every time. 

He stopped and that threw you off. He sighed to himself, “No. That’s not right, you didn’t squirm like before when I did this.”

L pulled his fingers out of you and moved them over your clit in small circles, you tried so hard to stop yourself moaning in pitch black, but it was too late. “I recall your fingers doing this, please don’t stifle your moans or it'll disrupt the whole experiment. I’m using that time in your bedroom as a control, it’s not an ideal parameter to go off of, but unfortunately it’s all I have.”

You didn’t make one sound and bit your lip to defy him, to ruin it in hopes he’d grow bored and let you go. “To put it simply, I need you to let go and stop being uptight if you want this over with.”

Still nothing. “Ah I know. Let’s have a little fun, why dont we play a game?” 

“A game?” He’d baited you. 

“This is a fun game…” He moved in another direction, and used his other hand to finger you like before. “And it's called, let’s see how much I can get away with.”

“W-what?” 

“I think it's time we had intercourse, I have nothing to go by in comparison but don’t worry, it’s entirely for my own notes, no one else will see us.” He’d never fucked you before.

It all overwhelmed you, panicking and straining against the straps you didn’t register the numbness or singing pain tugging your wrists. “No! Stop this right now, or I swear I’ll scream so loud everyone will come running and stop you!”

“Go right ahead,” A rustle of fabric. “It’s all soundproof, no one will hear you. But if you do insist on screaming, try to differentiate it between pleasure and panic, there's a fine line and it can be difficult to tell the difference.”

And then his cock was there, hard and pushing into you, your dripping cunt with so much ease you didn’t realise how wet he’d made you. Straight in and he held himself there, the entire length of his cock to bottom out. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, this is my first time but upon watching pornography, it's not entirely difficult to work out. I’ll have plenty of practice.”

“Plenty? You said it would be over after, you said!”

“Did I? I don’t recall.” He thrusted in and out slowly to adjust, his hands finding their way to your breasts, massaging them and squeezing. “Hm… you react differently to nipple stimulation than taking my fingers, interesting. ”

He rolled your nipples between his fingers over the fabric, pulling and pinching to get a reaction out of you. It was involuntary, the noises escaping your lips was ghastly as he fucked you, gradually picking up the pace. 

“I wonder what it’ll feel like if I ejaculate inside you-”

“Don’t do that. You better not fucking do that, you’re deranged!” 

“You say that, but biologically speaking, your body is telling me a different story. So wet and lubricated, it’s telling me that you’re enjoying yourself despite protesting. Can you explain that?” His voice became strained. 

You tried screaming, asking anyone behind the blacked out lens of the security camera he’d mentioned to help, to stop L and to let you loose. If there was really even one there.

No one answered of course, just like he said and after a while, he covered your mouth with his hand. 

“Despite this being an experiment, I can’t actually concentrate whilst you're screaming in my ear like that. From what I’ve read, I’m very close to finishing and I’d like to enjoy it. It is my first time after all and it feels much better than I expected. We can resume the experiment at a later date.” 

He was really putting effort in now, his hips pounding into your aching and numbing legs, fingers digging into you as he gripped and breathed in a way that you assumed only meant one thing. 

He was close. “That’s it.” He said, jerking into you and jutting with his orgasm inside you. 

Deep and already you could feel his cock twitching and filling you, but he didn’t pull out, not at first. So clinical and robotic, breaths reaching normality quickly. 

“That was…” There was a hint of shock perhaps. “I enjoyed that very much.” 

Just another horny man on top of you to make you regret and despise yourself. “Get the fuck off of me you creep! How could you do that?” 

“It just solidified my initial assessment… Now I understand just how much I can get away with… interesting.” 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[lady-of-tearshed]

Overprotective bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

[vonbabbitt]

ojima loredump from a couple years back i wrote for my staff

i can finally post more of these now yay. tw for ojima things

so ojima, as you may recall, was one of the OTHER people who was abused by a parent! hes also the youngest of three boys with his two older brothers being four and eight years older than him respectively! his family was pretty well-off financially and his dad had a pretty prominent position in the business world, so from the outside looking in, all was pretty good! except that by the time ojima was born, his parents' marriage was already in a rapid downward spiral and his brothers were already regularly seeing the fallout from this in the form of physical and verbal abuse. ojima was supposed to be the sort of "patch" that was meant to fix their marriage because his mom thought that having another kid would force ojimas dad to be more responsible/caring/present etc, except obviously that did not happen because having a new baby in the house just made things way more stressful. his parents ended up staying together regardless, but their relationship was constantly in turmoil and for the first few years of his life ojima grew up in pretty much the same environment as his brothers: abusive and socially high-pressure

enter ojimas uncle, his dad's brother and another fairly relevant man in the world of business. hes super friendly and the boys love him and hes fun to be around and ojima in particular is attached to him because when hes out with uncle kenji, theres no fighting or yelling or hitting and everything is cool and hes only three so he has no concept of the fact that this dude is getting……..a little bit too comfortable around him! so things eventually get to the point where his uncle is taking ojima on outings without his brothers present, and from there, things escalate, and ojimas relationship with his uncle very quickly becomes sexually abusive. ojima is THREE of course so he has no idea how fucked up this is but understands that he does not like it and does not want to be around his uncle anymore except that things dont stop there and nobody really finds out about it for another two years despite it being ongoing.

so at age five ojima is talking to his oldest brother, who is now thirteen (his name is tetsuya!) and has a total meltdown. he knows hes not supposed to tell people about what he does with his uncle but hes completely losing it and he trusts his brother. tetsuya, who actually understands whats happening and is pissed, thinks it wise to go to their dad, which does not end well! dad is pissed that theyd make accusations like that about his brother and refuses to indulge the idea that ojima could be telling the truth in any way. what ensues is his dad doubling down on the psychological abuse that ojima is going through at home, and for lack of a better term, basically gaslighting him into thinking that hes lying and everything is fine, despite the fact that shit with his uncle is STILL ACTIVELY HAPPENING at this age!

so by around age six, ojima has his first experience with blacking out. between what his uncle is doing, what his dad is doing, the fact that he cant even trust his own mind anymore and the pressure of having to present all this as being totally fine because of his family's social status, something in him just snaps and he completely dissociates. hes suddenly in this world in his head where nobody can hurt him, nothing bad can happen, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, he is completely in control. of everything. ojima has never, ever been in control and its something he becomes practically addicted to because its the only way he can feel safe. it goes from dissociating once at a particularly bad moment to dissociating constantly to escape how shitty his life is. when ojima turns ten, his brother moves out and its absolutely devastating for him because thats one of the only two people in the world he can trust. from that point he pretty much never sees him again. tetsuya does literally everything in his power to get ojima and their middle brother (his name is toshiharu!) out of that environment, but hes eighteen and hes not their parent and their dad has a lot of sway, so it doesnt amount to anything meaningful. ojima is told that his brother left because hes a shitty person and he hates their family and eventually he learns to internalize that and blames his confession and his supposed destruction of their family for tetsuya leaving and never coming back. the many many attempts for tetsuya to contact ojima and toshiharu go interrupted by their dad and the two dont speak again.

things basically continue with ojima being abused at home and at his uncle's until he turns fourteen, at which point the next big milestone is that toshiharu moves out and reconnects with tetsuya, and now the two are full steam ahead on getting ojima out of that environment. except that its still basically useless because they have no legal say over him and their dad is really powerful so everything is still mostly the same except that ojima is completely alone. hes dissociated a good 90% of the time at this point because hes just incapable of handling the absolute shitstorm of things happening to him. hes in a living hell and maladaptive daydreaming is basically his only escape and the only thing that keeps him going. because of this, hes seen as weird and stupid by other kids at school and is treated like shit there too. theres pretty much nothing left in his life that could be considered good or redeeming except for the two things he enjoys: daydreaming and drawing.

contact with his uncle starts to break off around age fifteen when his uncle starts losing interest due to ojima being older now. ojima gets tremendously fucked up over this, and while hes relieved that its not happening, his brain is so torn at this point that he gets caught in a sort of spiral of wondering why hes no longer desirable and why people keep leaving him, even when they're bad people that ojima doesnt want in his life. in this time between age fifteen and age seventeen, things start to improve slightly because his uncle isnt touching him and his dad isnt constantly brainwashing him to get him to forget about his uncle touching him so for this brief gap of time, he can almost live comfortably. he starts doing some freelance illustration work because his dad wants him to get a job and it turns out hes pretty damn good at it, and he enjoys it a lot, so he spends a lot of his time illustrating. hes mainly motivated by the fact that he wants to give other kids like him a beautiful and vivid place to escape to, so he depicts all these fantastical and whimsical worlds in kids' books to give them that same sort of escape that he needed. his brothers are still desperately trying to get in contact with him/get him out of their old house, but its been years by this point and all he knows is that they both decided to completely abandon him one day and never look back, something that he entirely blames himself for.

despite things getting a bit better for him, ojima basically never grows out of the daydreaming and it takes over his life to some degree, which honestly? its debatable whether its good for him or not. on one hand, its extremely disruptive to his life and is not a healthy coping mechanism by any means. on the other hand, it was literally the only thing that got him through the past ten years alive and continues to be his only escape from the shitty life he has. anyway ojima is sixteen now! the physical and psychological torment from his dad starts to transition into a more familial/patriarchal pressure at this point - tetsuya and toshiharu are gone and severed, which means ojima is the son thats going to take over his business one day. suddenly his dad is treating him like a grown man when hes ever only been treated like a doll for his entire life - now hes being taught about business and social policy and world affairs and all these things he isnt interested in and doesnt understand. he really just wants to draw and dissociate and pretend nothing bad is happening to him. except even though hes not being tormented anymore, things are not good! because he has, obviously, absolutely massive amounts of trauma that he is not coping with. instead of ever dwelling on this or addressing it, which arent really options for him anyway, he goes deeper and deeper into his own headspace to escape it and pretty much locks himself away in this dissociative world to ignore everything that isnt his own art.

then ojima turns SEVENTEEN and the world flips. his brothers finally manage to get their case in front of a judge and the ojima family business SINKS LIKE A ROCK. his parents are in jail, and hes suddenly out on his ass. his brothers scoop him up pretty fast and do their best to piece him back together, but ojima is absolutely fucked in the head by this point. he lives with tetsuya and toshiharu and continues working because he loves to work, but he seriously struggles to rebuild the relationship he once had with them because in his understanding, they hate him. thats what hes been told for years. they live in this very tense situation where his brothers desperately want to help him, but they are also traumatized and they do not know what to do for him because hes just an absolute mess. ojima bounces around the idea of therapy for a while and frequently registers for therapy/drops out/registers/drops out repeat repeat repeat because he knows his broken and he knows he needs help, but going to therapy means actually thinking about his past and what happened to him and he cant do that. its terrifying and it hurts and he just wants to be in his own headspace. it leads to a lot of very emotional conversations with his brothers who still just dont know what to do but desperately want to get him help somehow.

and then the killing game starts

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a small request? I was thinking of platonic Yandere Dick and batsib where batsib is getting harassed(hope I spelled it right) at school or online but can’t find Jason or the others so finally gives in and asks Dick for help on how to handle the situation?

A/N: Yes, ofc! Thank you for requesting. I was originally never going to post the og headcanon because i thought people wouldn't like a darker take on him. I'm so happy you guys do. its actually dick just cyber bullying you into coming to him loll

Warnings: concepts of online harrassment, but it's mainly fluff.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

"Sweetie, don't cry. Tell your big brother what happened, okay?" Dick's voice cooed as he used his thumb to gently wipe away your tears.

This wasn't a position you imagine yourself to be in. You never figured you'd be coming to Dick for anything. Ever. Let alone comfort. For the past few months of being in Wayne's house, you've avoided your older brother like the plague. There wasn't any circumstance you wanted to be around him, you didn't particularly like him for your own reasons. Jason was the one you found the most comfort in. He made you feel safe and at ease unlike Dick.

But Jason wasn't here right now. He and the others were taking their shift on patrol and they wouldn't be back at least until the sun rose. Dick was the only one home and available to help with the situation at hand.

~~~~

You had recently started up a social media account with much persuasion from your sibling, Barbra. It was just supposed to be something wholesome to better connect with the other siblings as it was a frequency they used. You weren't too fond of the whole thing, it was slightly anxiety inducing but you agreed to make them happy. They felt bad about sharing so many family photos without you being as they were all proud to show you off.

Unexpectedly, you kind of got into it. You started spending quite a few hours scrolling posts and sharing videos to your siblings, even deciding to make a few of your own...not thinking much of it.

It was great and all of the feedback was positive, mainly being from your sibling or school friends. It was a fun and rather safe escape for you to enjoy on your downtime.

That was until you finally decided to check your laptop after a few days away. To your surprise, lots of new notifications flooded your inbox. Maybe your post went viral or something, you excitedly thought to yourself.

The excitement quickly died down after reading through every comment and message you received during your hiatus. Copious amounts of vile content flooded your eyes. Most of them attacked your appearance or the fact you were 'just another pitiful orphan'. But nothing disturbed you like the dm you received that was filled with death threats and altered photos of you.

Mixed feelings of terror, anxiety and sadness overtook your body. You were never one to cry much but this, this did something to you. The only thing you wanted was to be held. Your safe space was ripped from you and turned into a heinous landfill, you felt so violated. You knew that person was only behind a screen but what if they were coming for you? What if it was an enemy of your family? You weren't nearly as trained or half as capable as your siblings and this person probably knew that. What if they're not around and that person captures you..

You didn't want to die. You didn't want to be their target….

~~~~~

You could sense the blood boiling beneath Grayson's skin as told him all that happened. For once in your life you seen his smile drop and his eyes growing dark., his sky blue eyes were nearly a deep black. He couldn't stop the fury from seeping into his vein as he thought about all the ways to get his revenge on the person who made you like this.

He never wanted to see his baby sister in this state, he didn't like that you couldn't enjoy yourself. He felt so guilty, this was his fault. He gave the green light to Babs about the social media thing when she brought it up to him. How could he be so stupid? Why didn't he think about the possibility of something like this?

It was supposed to be something to get you out of your shell and closer with them, not a breeding ground for degenerate fuckers like that.

He was silent for a while, entrapped in his own mind and anger before you tugged on his shirt.

"..Dick, please help me. I'm so scared. I really don't want to die. What am i going to do?" Your words were almost inaudible as you choked over them. The few lone tears turned into a heavy stream. You needed him to make this all go away. It was too much for you to handle alone.

Your plea for his help snapped him out of his thoughts. Dick's heart nearly crumbling at the cracks in your voice. He loved you so much and making sure you knew you were safe was the most important thing. The plotting could wait, there was plenty of time to take care of them. Softening his face, he flashed you his pretty smile, and took your hands in his.

"Do you think your older brother, Dick, would ever let them come through these doors and hurt you?"

You shook your head and rubbed at your puffy, red eyes.

"My sweet birdie. You have to know as long as i'm living, you'll be safe."

Dick hesitantly opened his arms out for a hug, not sure if you'd be willing to accept it this time. To his surprise, you did. Practically throwing yourself into his embrace, you wrapped you arms around his neck and sobbing in the crook of his neck.

You tightly held onto him as you nuzzled your head as deeper into it. Maybe you were wrong in your judgement of him?,,,or maybe it was the heat of the moment, but something about this was actually…nice. You never had a hug that felt as warm and protecting as this was now. There was just something so precious about the he handled you with so much care. It was as if you were made out of some kind of delicate material.

A feeling of regret rushed your body as you thought back to all the times you avoided and othered him. Was this what you were missing all those times?

You could've been getting love like this but you willingly rejected it all. Stupid.

"...I'm sorry,,,"

A curious hum left his voice as he wondered what you could be referring to. None of this was your fault nor was coming to him any sort of burden.

",,,for y'know.”

You could feel his head gently tilt to the side as he was still confused as to what you meant.

“I've been a bad sister to you, dick. I’m so sorry.” Your shaky voice was pitched high as you fought against your tears.

Shaking his head, he rubbed circles on your back.

Richard held his own breath for a moment, processing the words you just said. It was almost unbelievable to hear those words escaping from your mouth. Almost as unbelievable for you to finally be in his arms like this, at your most vulnerable. A fuzziness started in the depths of his stomach and exploded his body in bliss.

This was a long awaited feeling he so desperately had been craving. At that moment, all of his patience was worth it. All he ever wanted was to be your safety net, your best friend and he’s finally getting it. He wanted you to hug him like this forever. He wanted you to be safe right here in his arms. This was everything he could ask for.

Pay offs like this confirms he chose right in prioritizing his family over everything. His tendencies weren’t indeed crazy but necessary. He’s the backbone of the bats.

Dick’s muscular arms tightening in their embrace, gave you a nice squeeze.

"If you were a bad sister, i wouldn't love you as much as i do. The world doesn't deserve an angel like you, neither do i."

Dick breaks the hug and puts your hands in his once more. A soft kiss is planted on your forehead and there's a beat that passes as he's observing you. His smile is wider than ever. To him, you're the most perfect sibling he could ever ask for.

"I'll do whatever it takes, even bending a few rules, if that means you can sleep peacefully. I’m your nightwing."

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 2x15, "clueless"

"love will make you do wrong" oh i'm sure.

this is one of those recaps where i'm definitely just reiterating what the writers were putting down, but it's so insane that it bears in-depth repeating imo.

please believe me when i say this rewatch project's goal is a wholistic view of the entire series. yet, with that in mind, you can imagine the stress i feel when what seems like an episode devoted entirely to unpacking intimate interpersonal relationships has hilson as the fulcrum. and not just hilson - equal character development for both house and wilson as the domesticity shenanigans unfold.

that's not to downplay the patient story - it's crazy, and i'm kind of obsessed with it. the zebra factor is probably way off the charts, but i love the extra sherlockian vibe and the confirmation that house md can, in fact, do shock value without throwing entire identities under the bus (@ 2x13). all that plus the horror movie opening? golden (lmfao).

from the top, then. look at his triangle ass stance here:

we can safely say, i'd argue, that 2000s audiences were supposed to laugh at how much wilson cares about his appearance; i'm laughing, too, but in a 2020s Woke Queer Way. and house lasts just one night with wilson crashing on his couch before he says that this won't work; his domestic sphere has been invaded by someone he doesn't know how to account for, at least not in this capacity. one of the things we know about house thus far is that routine is immeasurably valuable to him.

it also kills me how devastated wilson is to hear that house wants him out, along with his sassy retort about house's hair, or "what's left of it." gagged.

this entire episode is based on the (heterosexual) domicile. it also devotes a lot of time qualifying the patient and his partner, bob and maria, as Sexually Freaky (tm). they upend traditional notions of marriage, partnership, and sex through their kinks/bdsm, including consensual noncon sex. the team leaps to the initial conclusion that bob's sudden suffocation comes from repeated history of rough sex, which is quickly disproven.

maria and bob's sex life absolutely boggles everyone's minds...except for cameron's lol. the growing fluidity with which she treats relationships as some of her convictions adapt (not dissolve! just shift!) is really interesting to me, like it interests chase, too lol.

2x15 persistently deconstructs maria and bob's personal lives until its full ugliness is on display (while unforch being a little kink-shamey, but we can look past this). despite their insistence that they're happy, maria is secretly poisoning her husband. despite their pristine home, what takes place in there is only thinly disguised intermarital violence. cameron's bet on their happiness falls flat on its face, and house md argues that a frontward functional relationship will always be plagued with deeper issues.

those issues are not represented visually, however! let's contrast the 2 major sites of domesticity in this episode:

foreman's remarks that maria and bob keep an impeccably clean place contrasts with wilson's general opinion of house's apartment. over the seasons, we see house's place in various states of disarray, though it's chock full of his personality and history, whereas maria and bob's place is just cold, 2000s chic. this reinforces the subliminal distance between maria and bob and captures the degree to which wilson is invited into house's personal life.

next i want to tackle the emphasis on food, poisoning, and choking in 2x15. i thought it was a silly bullet point in my notes until i actually sat down to right this (like literally in this moment!). after repeatedly arguing that bob was poisoned with heavy metals, house eventually lands on the theory that maria is behind it. it's not until the end does 2x15 reveal that she's been dosing his food with gold (don't ask me the full name lmfao), scarring his lungs over time.

meanwhile, in stuffed pepper, pancake, salad, and sandwich land:

house pretends to find the bell peppers stinky but takes a liking to the rest of wilson's cooking immediately. no poison to be had here. in an outwardly dysfunctional domestic situation, food sharing (however reluctant) is a net positive. wilson's final note warning house off his lunch is closer to a joke than a formal warning:

if it's not clear, i'm casting house as maria and wilson as bob in this off-kilter domesticity parallel, and a subtle but brilliant example of this comes at the very end. while maria is taken away in handcuffs, house rushes back home on his motorcycle. while foreman and chase inform bob that maria was trying to kill him, wilson sleeps soundly on house's couch. viewers are also treated to al green's "love and happiness" in the background, with the very poignant lyric: "love will make you do wrong."

everything about house/wilson and maria/bob is reversed, along with their respective "wrongs." 2x15 is funny and crazy enough to suggest that house deleting the message about wilson's apartment is symbolically akin to maria killing bob slowly over time. look how they both gaze upon their domestic partners - one with faux guilt on their face, and the other with faux annoyance:

i've spent all this time building to the following argument: in pretending that he hates having wilson around, 2x15 subverts the assumed happiness brought on by a heteronormative domestic space. as much as maria pretends to love bob, house pretends to hate living with wilson. maria tries to remove bob from her domestic (and from this earth lol) while house tries to keep wilson around. we spend an entire episode unearthing how sinister a sexually charged heterosexual marriage can be, only to arrive at the house and wilson dynamic of it all.

i'm not even strictly hilson posting here, just highlighting how bizarre it is in that 2000s network tv decided to deconstruct heteronormativity, however intentionally/unintentionally. it's not my fault that wilson has to make everything about sex. and that every moment of this episode is about sex except for the moments spent between house and wilson.

lastly, one of the concluding scenes between house and the fellows is a nice example of audience/house solidarity, something the entire show does subtly throughout to get us squarely in his headspace. the four of them are ruminating over what could possibly motivate someone to kill their partner, which cameron seems especially appalled by.

in response, house makes a slew of interesting deductions: "maybe she just got tired of being married. didn't want to admit to family and friends that the marriage everyone thought was perfect wasn't."

i call this house solidarity because we know for a fact that he's talking about wilson's situation...but who within his marriage? we never meet julie (which, apart from the unfortunate fridging, i think is a good narrative choice), so we don't get her side of the story or understand if/how she's been open about her and wilson's separation. all we know, and all that house cares to know, is that wilson's marriage isn't perfect.

this next bit is informed by my hilson brain, but there's been a subtle thrill in house in the face of wilson's separation. i get the sense that he hopes he's talking about wilson here, that he hopes wilson got tired of being married because things (in the aforementioned heteronormative relationship!) are imperfect. and, as if to secure this hope, he deletes the message about the apartment while looking especially smug.

this line of dialogue also does some work in acknowledging wilson's vulnerability. like the patient in 2x14 suggested, we can't be afraid to look stupid. by nature of showing up at house's door, he's admitted that things aren't perfect. that's their give-and-take; wilson lets house in emotionally while house lets wilson in physically. given house's reliance on routine and privacy, this is an equal exchange.

here's my actual final note: why can't wilson realize that he has a real love language? FOOD! and acts of service! you don't just have to sleep with everyone you love! there are other ways to express these things! you literally had a spoon at the ready for house! and you seem so secretly pleased when he doesn't hate the taste!

[freakyformula]

Knight in shining armor

Summary: Readers car breaks down on the road and her friend Max picks her up.

Writers comment: Sorry for the inactivity, I had one of my wisdom teeth pulled and developed dry socket lol rip

Warnings: Some fluff

Word count: 2k

You had spent the last week away for a holiday with your family. You lived in Monaco while your family still resided in your home country. You had barely graduated college when you decided to work abroad. Living away from your family was tough, but the week after you moved in, as you walked home, you stopped by the harbour and that's where you met him. Max Verstappen. He was handsome and had the finest smile you'd ever seen. Stating that you fell for him then and there would be an overstatement but you felt something in your heart.

You thought you recognised his face but couldn't place him. When he laid his eyes on you, on the other hand, he stopped in his tracks and studied you for a moment. Then, he walked up to you and introduced himself. And the rest was history, you instantly hit it off as friends. Max was special, you two had something that you hadn't ever felt with anyone else. When he was home from his busy job in Formula 1, you would often spend time together, even sleeping at each other's apartments, although not in the same bed. You lived in the same district as him, Fontveille, only a couple of buildings apart.

"Yeah, yeah, Max! I'll be at your place in about an hour." You laugh as you hear Max's worried voice on the other end of the phone.

"Please drive carefully." He pleads.

He'd insisted on picking you up from the airport or ordering an Uber but you politely declined.

As you grab your bags, you walk straight to the car rental. You glanced at the cars available and decided on a small black Audi. You had to admit that you were tired. The long flight had taken its toll, and you started to regret insisting on driving home but you felt like you had to prove to Max that you could take care of yourself.

You pay for the car and drag your heavy bags out. Getting them into the small car was a task itself but you managed, somehow. As you started your 20-minute drive you felt the fatigue in your body. When you made it onto the highway you felt relieved, because you were one step closer to home and Max.

You'd barely made it halfway when the car started to lose power, leaving you stranded at the edge of the highly trafficked highway. "Fuck… What do I do.." You panicked, you didn't have any numbers saved and didn't know French that well yet so calling for a tow was out of the question. You didn't really care about the car at this point, but rather about how you were supposed to make it home safely. You had to think for a few minutes, listing your options in your head. Then, as if by a miracle, the phone called. Max. Shit, what was she going to say, that she was a damsel in distress and she was stuck on the highway?

"Hi, Max." You said.

"Hi lieverd, are you home soon? I was getting worried."

"Ummm, so, I'm kinda stuck on the highway… The damn car broke down. But I'm figuring it out, I promise!" You blurt the last part out. Silence. You waited for a reply for what felt like a minute. You hear the sound of keys clinging. "I'm on my way. Y/N, please for the love of god, stay in the car and turn your location on." Max quickly and shortly replies before he hangs up.

"I…" You start before you realise that he ended the call. You did as he'd told you and looked around. The cars drove past at such fast and close proximity.

This was Max in a nutshell, always there, having all of the solutions to the world's problems up his sleeve. You felt so pathetic at the fact that you couldn't even make your way home by yourself.

15 minutes later, you see a car that you quickly identify as Max's car speed by on the other side of the highway. He quickly makes his way to your lane and parks his car behind yours.

He walks up to your broken-down car, minding the traffic. "Need a ride?" He teases.

"Shut up!" You step out, giving his side a nudge. You open the trunk where the bags were, and Max drags them to his car, placing them in the back with care.

You lock the Audi and step into Max's luxurious and grand Aston Martin. It smells like him.

"Ready to go?" Max asks and grabs the wheel.

You take his hand into yours and stare into his eyes as he turns to look at you in confusion.

"Thank you, for this." You thank him, making him huff.

"Of course Y/N, I told you I should have picked you up. I want to spend all the time I can with you before the next race weekend." You smile at him and you start the drive to Monaco and Fontveille. The whole way home, he held your hand tightly, as if he was scared to lose you. The gesture made your heart even warmer than it already was.

Max parks neatly and effortlessly in his parking house and carries your bags out, insisting on handling them. You walk behind him like a puppy, letting him lead you to his apartment.

As you walk in, you instantly toss your shoes and crash on his sofa, with him following, laying down beside you.

"Wanna order some food?" You whisper, looking at him.

"Someone's hungry, I see. What do you want, princess?"

"Something really unhealthy, preferably. Pizza, maybe?"

And with that, you ordered your food with Max, playfully arguing whether pineapple was acceptable to put on pizza.

"Do you want to do something in particular tonight, schat?"

"Anything that includes you sounds good to me." You smile at him.

"Does snuggles sound good to you? You look tired." Max says.

You nod as an answer, as you switch on the TV, leaving on the random rom-com in the background. You grab a blanket that was left on the sofa and lie down with your head in Max's lap. You both sigh contently. He slowly rubs your head, giving you a relaxing head massage.

You loved his attention to your needs, he had always treated you with respect under this last year that you'd known each other. Max was always extremely clingy with you, holding your hand, and reminding you how much he likes spending time with you. You didn't think anything of it at the time but lately you started noticing how caring he actually was. He wasn't like this with anyone else of the girls from your mutual friend group either.

As you were thinking about the signs Max gave you, he must have noticed how distant you were because he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

"You okay?" He asks with concern in his voice.

"Yes, I am, Max." You chuckled and gave him a squeeze back.

"How was your holiday? Tell me everything." Max asks of you.

As you tell him all of the gossip and details he starts to rub your hands, creeping up your arms. And then, he pulls you into his arms, leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You pulled away. You weren't against the affection, but you needed some clarity. Max was like a closed book when it came to his feelings and emotions, rarely talking about what he felt, regardless of whether it was positive or negative.

You quickly gather your thoughts and Max seems to do the same.

"W-what are we doing?" You ask him.

He looks you in the eyes and cups your cheeks, unable to keep his hands off you. You didn't protest, vice versa, you leaned into his touch. This was new but it felt right.

He sighed. "What I'm going to tell you is something I've been waiting to say for the last year or so. I should have told you sooner but I was scared you would reject me. Y/N, I really really like you… More than as a friend, and I've been trying to ignore my feelings for you but I'm simply unable to keep this to myself any longer."

You were speechless, you had your suspicions but it still came as a surprise.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way about me, but I couldn't keep it in." He continues.

"Max…" You break the eye contact. "I like you too, I mean… A lot."

Max eyes warm up with joy, and he gives you the warmest smile you'd ever seen. His smile reached all the way up to his eyes, and you thought it was the most adorable thing you'd ever seen.

You wake up in a bed. The sheets smell fresh, like citrus, and Max's cologne. You turn around, rubbing your eyes, but find no one on the other side of the bed. You find your way downstairs, to the living room and kitchen. Max is standing at the stove with his back turned to you. What is he possibly doing, you think. It's common knowledge that Max sucks at cooking.

You sit down at the kitchen island, getting lost in his beauty. It's quiet, the only exception being Max's swear words as he manages to burn himself and whatever is in the pan. After a while, he breaks the silence, "You know, Y/N, it's not polite to stare." He says as he turns around to face you.

You were embarrassed and sat there stuttering, not quite knowing what to say. "I-I-I swear I wasn't!"

Max laughs, "Uh huh..." And scoops two eggs onto each plate. One for you and one for himself. "Thank you, Max, this is too much..." You say, still blushing. He walks around the island and takes a seat next to you, giving your temple a light kiss while holding his arm around you.

"No, Y/N. This is barely enough." He smiles.

"So... What happened last night?" You ask. You really didn't remember, you must've dozed off.

"We talked about your holiday, and what happened last night, you know, you ending up on the road, and you fell asleep. I carried you to my bed, and I slept on the sofa. Nothing happened, by the way." He clarifies, holding his hands up. You look at him, and you can't make out if you were shocked or happy, or something else. One thing you knew for sure though, you were thankful for him. As he gets up again to get some juice and bread, you walk up to him, not saying anything. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He asks, worried.

You're lost in his eyes, and stand there like a fool. Just studying his beautiful stance. You had no idea what got into you, but you fall into his arms, holding him tightly, not letting go.

Max laughs nervously, "What are you doing?" While hugging you back, or rather squeezing you. You were unable to even breathe while he was holding you. You stay like that for what feels like forever, both of you fusing together, not being able to let go, not wanting to let go.

When you finally part, you're both out of breath from holding each other so hard. "Shall we?" Max asks, pointing to the eggs. As you eat, you don't say anything, neither does Max. You're processing what just happened and Max seems to do the same. You didn't regret hugging him, on the contrary, you were happy with yourself.

"I think I love you, Y/N." Max admits while washing the two plates, not daring to look at you.

Hearing the words, you freeze. You know exactly what to say, but the words don't come out. Max finally turns around to face you, and you're sat with the blankest of expressions, further worrying him. "Y/N?" He walks up to you.

"I... I think I love you too?" You ask yourself, already knowing the answer. You did love him, there was no question. You'd always loved him.

Upon hearing your words, Max lets out a sigh of relief, while walking up to you, and embracing you.

"Thank fuck." He sighs. You can feel him almost trembling, or rather vibrating from nervousness. His grip on you tightens, pulling you closer, before he lets you out of his grip. "Let me rephrase that, I don't think I love you, I love you."

[haartemis]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[insert-cat-meme]

Followed

First fic here. Hope this isn’t one of those things I will scold myself later for being “cringy” or something like that.

Warnings: stalking, paranoia, break ins, manipulation, overall unhealthy behaviour

Yandere! Chrollo x Reader

Word count: 2215

Reading below this point means you agree to the above mentioned warnings.

At this point, you wondered if your stalker wanted you to notice them.

Things had been like this for about a month now. It started with a shadow peeking into your room through your window. Thankfully, you had not been in a state of undress, but the fact alone made you clutch your blanket a bit tighter for many nights to come.

There had been flowers delivered to your door without any indication about who could have sent them. When you asked the nice lady living in the apartment across the hall, she could only tell you that some postal service had delivered them.

She gave you cake that evening, a gesture at least somewhat comforting for you.

Other incidents started to pile up as well. Your mailbox slightly ajar even though you were sure you had closed it properly the day before.

What finally broke the last straw was the note on your fridge. Walking one day into your kitchen, you learned how much terror could be conveyed through a small piece of paper.

The dreadful sinking of a stone in your stomach at the supposedly nice message, “Make sure you eat something healthy. You have been ordering a lot of take out the last few days.” had almost been a completely new feeling at its intensity.

Immediately you had filed the number of the police but after the two officers could not find anything other than the note, they informed you that they could not do anything. There were no broken locks, all windows closed neatly and not a single thing of your possessions had been stolen.

On that day you ordered a locksmith to instal a new lock in your door and additional ones to your windows.

It was understandable, really. The police could only help you in the boundaries of the law but it almost felt like you had been cheated out of your security.

For a moment you contemplated moving out of Yorknew again, back to the place you had grown up but you had no financial means for that. This city was expensive and where were you supposed to find work?

So you just had to bite your tongue and hope to stumble upon a solution somewhere along the way.

Clutching your bag a bit closer to your chest, you stepped out of the train into the dirty station of your neighbourhood. One of the three walls of the small house meant to offer protection from the elements was covered in plastic. Apparently someone had broken the glass, leaving a gaping space behind.

Keeping one hand in the pocket of your jacket, you made your way down the street. You envied the people who could afford to live in the central area. By no means was your flat a bad one. At worst it’s environment was caked in dirt, the city not caring to clean the areas most tourists wouldn’t stumble upon but the way to work and back home was a long one.

Feeling around, you felt th pepper spray bump against your hand. You were aware that it was more for reassurance than actual protection. If you were to ever confront whoever was watching you, you were to most likely freeze up in fear.

Reaching into your bag with your other hand, you started to search for your keys. The door of the place you had. once considered safe was now almost in sight. Only a few weeks ago you would have been jumping from joy mentally at the thought of being able to finally relax but now you couldn’t even do that anymore.

Just as you were finally able to pull out the jingling bundle of metal, you saw someone standing in front of the door to your apartment complex.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to continue to walk. There was no reason to assume that this was your stalker, your nightmares personified, one of the faces staring down on you in your darkest dreams.

Growing taller and taller in the horizon you took not of their black shirt, it clinging to their slim frame and the bandanna covering their forehead. Letting out a sigh of relief, you felt a slight sting as the hand that had curled around your keys started to relax, visible imprints left behind by them. Raising the hand holding onto them, you called out to him.

Chrollo had been a friend of yours for a while now. What had been a run in with someone looking for directions had blossomed into a friendship. He was almost too good to be friends with you. You usually imagined those incredibly book-smart type of people to look down on ordinary workers like you but instead, the ravenette had been nothing else but kind to you.

The only less than optimal thing about your friendship was that he was only in Yorknew for work but hey, that was what phones were made for, right?

Coming to a halt in front of him, you took in the slight disheveled look of his hair, his clothing seemingly comfortable yet still indicating that he had just arrived, small stains of barely visible liquid clinging to the hem of his shirt.

You knew it had been raining just this noon so he couldn’t have been here for too long considering that he also needed to settle in somewhere (or at least you hoped so).

The dim light of the sunset threw a soft glow across his black strands and for a moment you wanted to run your fingers along them. They had to be soft.

Thankfully, the other one of the two brain cells in your head shot that thought down immediately and instead decided to greet him.

After fighting with the lick for a few seconds, you opened up the door, leading him up the stairs to your flat whilst hoping and desperately praying to whatever higher power willing to hear you out, that you had cleaned up so that your home would look at least somewhat close to tidy.

When the two of you finally reached your door, you had to suppress a sigh. Another bundle of flowers sat in front of your door. The tranquil beauty and the fear they created within you was almost ironic.

No, it was ironic. Why were a pile of plant cells kept alive by photosynthesis capable of striking you with such terror?

Although, the first time was definitely more frightening but the more it happened, the more you started to just simply accept them. Humans, adaptability and all of that.

Picking them up whilst trying to hide your trembling hands, you tried to ignore the inquisitive look Chrollo was throwing at you. He must have noticed that something was wrong considering the slight look of worry ghosting over his face.

Finally opening the door to your destination, you ushered the male inside. Whatever you had begged just minutes ago must have heard you; there was barely and mess.

After sitting your guest down on your couch, you excused yourself into the kitchen under the pretense of preparing something to drink for him. The pile of greens you had disposed of continued to grow this evening as well.

Not wanting to leave Chrollo all alone in your living room, you hurried up and filled two glasses of water. If you had more time you would have offered something more fancy but you didn’t want to test his patience any longer.

Returning back to him, you saw that he had lifted the cover of a book lying on the coffee table. You had grabbed it on one of your grocery trips, throwing it inside of your cart in hopes of getting some sort of entertainment from it.

If you had known that Corollo of all people would be visiting, you would have thrown the thing out immediately considering that it was some cheap romance cliché.

Clearing your throat, you hoped that he didn’t notice the heat travelling up your neck. Letting go of it, he turned his full attention on you. “Secret admirer?”

His tone was teasing, a small smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. Yet there was also something else. Instead of two teasing orbs laughing in unison with his facial expression, there were only two gaping holes filled with the endlessness of an abyss.

Laughing, you tried to ease the tension whilst sitting down on the other end of the couch. You were thankful for the warm light filtering through the window. Otherwise, you might have mistaken your friend for being angry.

Perhaps he was angry? God, why were you so bad at figuring stuff like this out?

Starting to play with the loose thread of one of the cushions leaning against the backrest, you started to carefully approach the subject like someone might approach a snake hissing aggressively at them. “… I think, no I know, I am being followed.”

Looking up to him once more, you expected something like outrage. No, that was wrong. You didn’t know Chrollo that long but you knew that it took a lot more to make him act in any hasty way. Such an emotion like outrage was reserved for cases like someone murdering someone close to him.

That didn’t mean there was no response to your words though. Slowly, he turned his head sideways, his eyes drifting slightly to the left. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you elaborate?”

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to force yourself to stay calm at the memories emerging whenever you had to deal with your stalker. “Those flowers…”

Hearing your voice break, the black haired male nodded in understanding. “A stalker then… I see.”

His gaze continued to focus slightly left to your head. “That must have been frightening.”

This time, it was your turn to nod. You felt guilty for telling him this whole mess you had found yourself. Someone as kind as him shouldn’t be burdened with your problems.

“But, oh well, what else to do…” Laughing once more, you tried to change the subject. “How has work been?”

Snapping his head back into your direction, his eyes stared back into your own but unlike the last time, they didn’t feel like two nails hammering you into your seat but instead like a warm drink during a cold day. The comfort of returning home after a long day.

“Nothing new really. Like always we did what we came there to do.” At least he was doing well.

You really did have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. First you had attracted his and then the attention of someone else. Well, he couldn’t blame you for that last one. Not really.

The Hunter had been so blatantly obvious with his tailing that the leader of the Phantom Troupe had to keep himself from looking out of the window the entire time.

Not like ignoring someone so obnoxious was a challenge but whenever he thought back to the moment he had discovered the young man following you around about three weeks ago, he contemplated on using one of his nen abilities on him.

Although, perhaps he should have been thankful considering Chrollo had been watching you almost a year before approaching you under the excuse of asking for directions. When he found out that there was another one observing you, he had finally been able to give you small gifts. One of them being the flowers you had just thrown out so ungraciously. The note, a product of him being more often around than you would ever be able to guess.

If they messed up with such a simple thing like closing a mail box properly and being discovered from time to time, who was he to blame?

Perhaps the two of them weren’t that different considering that only the end objective was the difference between him and your little shadow.

Digging deeper, he had discovered that the Hunter was a new one, desperate to prove himself and had somehow found out that you were in contact with Chrollo.

He needed to tie that loose end. Fast.

But for now he would enjoy this. You had grown to trust him so nicely. It was the right choice to study which behaviours you liked the most in people.

Should he tell you that he was having a vacation and planing to spend it close to you? It was not like he was lying. Most of his life outside of heists could be considered vacation. You did seem to like the innocent facade he put up for you. Growing closer to you in more intimate ways shouldn’t be too hard.

You were a bit naive. Not stupid. No, you were like most ordinary citizens. If you were that he would have dropped you the second he came to that conclusion but for some reason he just couldn’t let you be.

Just as you were about to tell him about something that happened last week, leaning over to pick up one of the glasses, he saw the man shadowing you peek into the room, his gaze meeting his own.

Yes, perhaps it was time to get rid of him. It had been fun to play around but this was starting to get annoying.

[parkerluvsu]

day 18: punishment <3

authors note: this is totally late im so sorry.. also i am skipping day 19, partially because im extremely tired and also because i don't know how to incorporate food into sex <3

art knew what he was doing was wrong, he just didn't care. he was past the point of caring.

you've been away for weeks (2 to be exact) and art hasn't jerked off at all since you've left. sure.. he's brushed up against his pillow while he's going to sleep one too many times, and sure hes "accidentally" stroked himself a little too much in the shower.. but he's been good!! he's been your good boy and followed your orders. until now.

you texted art that your flight was running late, grounded for about 2 hours because of the winter storm currently running its course outside the airport.

"sorry artie, flight is delayed cuz of weather, don't wait up for me baby, might not even be home tonight"

"okay :( i miss you soooo much, text me when u land pls"

"alright angel, will do :) love u <3"

"love u too <3"

art sighs and flops on the unbearably empty bed, flinging his phone a little farther than he meant to and wincing. he looks down at his cock slowly filling out in his jeans and groans. what is he supposed to do without you here? as thoughts of you start to cloud his mind, art can't stop thinking that if he just jerked off really quick and got rid of all the evidence, you wouldn't know it, and you'd come back none the wiser and he wouldn't get punished. great plan right? wrong.

after furiously jerking off until he cums himself silly, art finds himself totally unable to clean up after himself, cum stating to dry on his blanket and stomach, as well as tissues strewn about the bed. art sighs and tries to fight the sleepiness that clouds his mind and makes his eyelids droop more and more. he thinks to himself that he'll clean himself up before you get back, and drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

you arrive at your apartment door hauling your heavy suitcase and back pack behind you, trying your best not to jingle your keys too much and wake up art. you carefully unlock the door and push your bags inside, slipping off your shoes and walking into the house tiredly, wanting nothing more to sleep for 20 hours. you're stopped however, when you round the corner and see art splayed out on your bed, absolutely naked, cuddling your pillow with a cum stained blanket bedside him. you sigh, leaning down to pick up the scattered tissues and throw them away. when you're done with that, you gently sit next to art, trying to pull away the dirty blanket from him and replace it with a new one.

art senses the movement and awakens, first being elated to see your face, and then shocked at the fact that he was caught red-handed. "h-hi.." art looks away from you and blushes. "hey artie.. you gonna tell me what happened?" you coo at him softly, tricking his brain into thinking he won't get punished. "w-well i jus' missed you so much and then when you said you weren't gonna be home for a while i just couldn't handle it anymore.. b-but i swear i didn't do anything while you were away!! except for that.." art rambles, trying to plead his case in front of you. you smile and nod, reaching out to cup his face. art sighs, he's safe. "... but you remember what the rule was, right?"

arts eyes snap open from their blissful state. "w-what?" art is starting to lose his composure, guilt washing through him. "the rule? remember.. before i left i told you that you weren't allowed to masturbate at all while i was gone. and you broke the rule artie.." you say with a pout on your face. "l-listen 'm sorry, 'm really sorry.. you understand right? i- just couldn't take it anymore.." you shake your head, "you know that i have to punish you right? it's what i told you would happen if you broke the rules.." art nods sadly, trying to charm you with his puppy-dog eyes but you're stronger than that, not falling for his tricks.

art tries his best to hide his obvious arousal from you, but you see how hard he is through the blanket he's covering himself with. you inch closer to him, gently pulling the blanket off of him, watching as his cock slaps against his stomach. art whines and looks away from you, moaning softly when you grip him in your hand. even though he's already practically empty from cumming earlier. you stroke him up and down gently, smiling happily when he bucks his hips up to meet your touch, feeling like he's halfway to heaven after not feeling your touch on him the whole time you've been away.

arts head is in the clouds, watching as you stroke him faster and faster, your hand getting slick from all of the precum drooling out of him. you know he's getting close, his hips move faster, almost fucking your hand, as his moans turn almost girlish. "'m gettin' close.. it feels s' good.. thankyouthankyouthankyou..." art doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before you rip your hand off of him, leaving art to pathetically hump the air to try to finish himself off, but it's no use, his orgasm is completely ruined. art has tears brimming in his eyes, "w-why did you do that.. i- i was s' close.." his lower lip wobbles. you tilt your head to the side, hand smoothing over his milky thigh. "what do you mean artie? i told you that you'd be punished, did you forget so easy?" art frowns, shaking his head. "i- i didn't forget i just.. it's unfair" he pouts. you smile and bring art closer to you, cuddling him against your sternum.

"i know.. and im sorry.. you know i hate when you're sad, but you have to learn your lesson yeah?" you press a kiss to his forehead. art nods, cuddling up to you. "yeah.. 'm sorry really, it's just cuz i missed you so much" art says quietly, blushing a little bit. "i missed you too artie, don't worry, ill make it up to you soon" <3

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> to catch a thief | next -> forever falling words: 5.1k summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant) The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! (post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[shirefantasies]

Congrats on 1k! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻🥳🥳🥳You were the first Lotr blog I found and your writing is amazing! If it’s not too much of a bother, could I request an Aragorn x secret crush reader fic where they are dancing at night or in the rain? I’m not sure if you like writing one-shots for him or if you would rather write headcannons for the entire fellowship. No matter what, I would love it.

Please don’t forget to take breaks and to ignore this ask if you don’t want to write it

With love 💫

I love diversifying my one-shot portfolio! Of course 💫

Not Much Longer Shall the Wind Blow- Aragorn x Reader

Stone walls bore with them the night’s cold, locking you in frozen chains despite the great flame seeming to tower endlessly beyond the horizon. Billowing black clouds rolled out from it like smoke, threatening to engulf all of Middle-Earth with its success. Shudders crawled down your spine, brought on by the heat rather than Minas Tirith’s cold. You were not home there, but you were safe. For now.

The sound of your name startled you out of those words despite it being little more than a breath. Motion inspired by the soft speech made manifest in a simple spin, one which bore you sight of Aragorn moving to your side. His presence which had first given you a dark sort of thrill, but after these months, after almost losing him—nay, thinking you had lost him—only built around you the walls Minas Tirith was supposed to. Security, assurance, home.

A breeze ruffled your thin layers, bringing another shiver across your shoulders this time, but there at what very well could be the beginning of the end of all things you could not fault it.

“You are cold.”

An observation more than a question, one you could hardly fight given the ranger’s deeply perceptive eye. At his words, you simply smiled sheepishly and nodded, eyes darting from his out into the remaining still darkness. A weight draped instantly upon your shoulders.

“You needn’t hold this alone, you know.”

A small, irresistible exhale of amusement broke the chains of your fear for just a moment. “You’re one to talk,” you teased.

Aragorn’s lips tugged upward at that. His expression conveyed the expected surprise, but also a fondness that reached down into your very chest the way it stole your breath.

“Perhaps,” he simply remarked as you broke eye contact to survey the new weight that tumbled over your back.

His cloak. More specifically the one he had received in Lothlórien, one identical to the one you’d lost save for it being fitted to his height and build. All the will of elvenkind woven into its fibers to warm you, and some of Aragorn’s own, you hoped.

Aragorn. You returned your attention to him, seeing his gaze flit from the flaming turmoil of Sauron’s approach and back into your smaller world. A breath collapsed you fully, melted weeks of tension burning and halting your muscles as you released all the air you could. So much air, in fact, that your voice emerged almost unrecognizably quiet.

“This night air… Not much longer shall we have it.”

Tilting his head, Aragorn silently signaled you to continue.

“Soon the wind will not blow. If all is lost, no sound will travel through the air, not wind or birds or song,” you all but choked out.

This time, you felt another pressure upon your spine, this time a hand, spent as yours but calloused and firm and infinitely warmer than those you’d left lain upon icy stone in their despondent fold.

“You believe that Frodo is alive, do you not? That he was seen?”

You nodded.

“That our people still have heart?” He continued.

Hands shifting a bit forward, their grate upon the stone more grounding than painful, you gave him another silent incline of your head.

“Then the night can still be ours and we can still have song. Come.”

Commanding word and yet so gentle a tone. Not even beckoning, simply an invitation. One accompanied by a softly open palm you accepted without a second thought.

In a move you would not have expected from him, Aragorn pulled you slowly closer and rested his other hand upon the small of your back. The breeze could barely have blown between you as you stood, his low voice beginning around a hum and rising into elvish words. Not a sorrowful sound as the Lay of Lúthien, but rather words that drifted into the air like the petals of spring, warm and new.

Your smile grew without shaking this time, shaping into an unfaltering grin as you allowed your head to lower into Aragorn’s chest. He turned you, your feet tapping lightly upon the great carven ground of the white city. Against your cheek you felt the buzz of every syllable and allowed it to tingle down your skin, shivers and fire and even the horizon of the next day forgotten.

The length of the song, everything save Aragorn’s touch and the way his head lie upon yours, faded from your mind too. The illusory dance only lowered when he brought it back to earth with spoken words.

“No darkness could consume a spirit like yours,” he told you, cradling your head closer to his chest, its calming thrum, “Take heart.”

“I shall,” you replied, “For you have returned it to me.”

No sooner had his hand left the back of your neck than had your head tilted back up to face him, his own angling down to join your foreheads in a momentary, loving rest. Sweet elvish whispers escaped his lips as Aragorn's eyelids fluttered open, blue piercing your soul with another heart-gripping look, this one far beyond fondness. Believe them or not, you knew the significance of those whispered words. Arms slinging around his neck, you welcomed the final tile of the ranger's head, the joining of your lips as well as your hearts.

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