#my cobwebs and this came out...a little better than expected

[deadringers2023]

MEGAN THEE STALLION Big Ole Freak (2018)

[monster-disaster]

Hi darling, i see you have some somnophilia works.. May i sprinkle my current hyperfixation in? You have a stalker vampire who lives in your attic and feeds at night, either on you or goes out in the neighborhood. You start to have a sneaking suspicion you're being watched until you catch him. He can turn into a bat and creep through the attic door to get inside easily... He falls in love with you when you're up late singing, drawing, and cooking/showering. Um... And maybe he can see you in the shower through a vent in the ceiling 🫣 thank you i love your writing mwah

vampire!stalker x human!Reader Good to know: stalking

And you know what the funny thing is? You were the one who put him in your attic one morning when you were just about to get into your car and leave. By sheer luck, you happened to notice him curled up under your car, right behind one of the front wheels.

"Oh," you gasped at the sight. "You poor thing." Without thinking, you knelt beside the car, your heart softening as you took in the little creature’s vulnerable form. He looked so fragile, so out of place in the daylight. You extended a cautious hand, murmuring soothing words as you gently scooped him up. His small body was colder than you expected, but for a moment, he seemed to settle into your palm, as if relieved to be found. “You don’t have much survival skill, do you?” The thought of what might have happened if you hadn’t noticed him made you shudder. “You’re lucky I didn’t drive over you. But don’t worry, I know just the place where you’ll be safe.” Cradling him close, you turned back toward the house. You moved through the familiar hallway, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor as you made your way to the attic. The space was rarely used, cluttered with old memories and forgotten things, but it was quiet and safe, perfect for a little bat in need of shelter. “You’ll be safe here until it gets dark,” you murmured as you set him down in a cozy corner, carefully lining it with the soft fabric from an old box that had seen better days. You could feel the cool air of the attic as you moved, and after a moment’s hesitation, you left the window slightly open, just enough to give him a way out whenever he felt ready. You watched him for a few seconds longer, making sure he was comfortable, before closing the attic door with a quiet click. Two days passed before he crossed your mind again, but when you pushed open the attic door, the corner where you’d left him was empty.

You hoped the small animal was fine, but you had no idea that your story with him was far from over. At first, he genuinely wanted to stay away, but you lingered so vividly in his memory that he couldn't keep himself from returning. At first, he stayed only in your attic, listening to the sounds of your life around the house.

Your house was old, with creaking floorboards and doors that groaned on their hinges. The attic was dim and dusty, cobwebs stretching across the corners. The only light came through the window, filtering the moon’s glow into pale patches and deep shadows on the ground. He had spent countless nights here over the past few weeks, silently observing as the house lived and breathed around him, while he remained still and unseen in the darkness. Below, a door closed softly, followed by the gentle padding of footsteps across the floor. He tilted his head slightly, listening to you move through the house. You were humming a tune you'd recently heard on the radio. A soft, quiet sound that carried through the otherwise still air. He heard your steps as you climbed the stairs, and moments later, music began to drift upward through the floorboards. It was upbeat, with a woman’s voice accompanied by a guitar keeping the rhythm. The vampire shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the thick layer of dust on the floor. You had no idea he was there, and he preferred it that way. He took pleasure in your unawareness. Next, the steady sound of water pattering against tile reached his ears as you stepped into the shower, still humming and singing softly to yourself. For a long second, the dark wall in front of him disappeared as he imagined you in the bathroom with your head slightly tilted back as you washed down the shampoo. The white suds of the soap gently slipped down on your bare body, following the lines of your curves. He had to force himself to stay still. Soon, the water stopped, and after a few moments, he heard the soft slap of your bare feet on the bathroom tiles, and then on the hallway floor. He could smell the fresh, clean scent of your shampoo and lotions drifting into his sensitive nose. Quickly, you returned to your bedroom, the music still playing softly in the background. There was a pause as you opened your wardrobe and pulled out a drawer, followed by the rustling of fabric as you dressed in something comfortable and warm. Now, he could hear your breathing and the steady beat of your heart, which seemed to align with the music. Your room was just below the attic. So close. You sighed softly, and he imagined you sinking into the bed. The old springs of the mattress groaned under your weight. He stayed all night, hidden in the shadows. After all, he had all the time in the world.

Of course, his need to get closer to you, to see you, grew over time. After a few months, hiding in your attic wasn't enough anymore, and he became bolder. At first, he came out only after you had fallen asleep.

The night was still as the vampire silently came down from the attic, making his way straight to your room. The old house seemed to hold its breath as he moved, careful not to disturb the quiet of your home. The faint, lingering scent of your recent shower still hung in the air, mingling with the cool night breeze that slipped through the cracks. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint, silvery glow over your sleeping form. Your breathing was slow and even. You were blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked so close. He could easily reach out and touch you if he wished, and the thought sent a thrill through him. He stood by your bedside for a long moment, his gaze tracing the soft lines of your face, the fluttering of your lashes as you dreamed, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His fingertips tingled with the urge to reach out, just for a second, just to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. There was something calming about you, something that eased the centuries-old hunger that gnawed at him. The memory of you holding his bat form so carefully and softly was vivid in his memory. Your palms were warm around his small body as your chest vibrated with every word you said to keep him calm. Almost without thinking, his hand moved, brushing over the line of your jaw from your ear to your chin. His touch was feather-light, barely a whisper against your skin, but the sensation sent a shiver through him. You were so warm, so alive. You stirred slightly, your body shifting beneath the covers, but you did not wake. The vampire froze, his hand lingering for a moment longer, savoring the contact, before he slowly drew it back. His fingers curled into a tight fist as he kept himself from reaching out again. He remained there for a few minutes, motionless, watching as you settled back into your dreams, completely unaware of the dark figure standing guard over you. He wanted to stay, to linger by your side until the first light of dawn, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. Not yet. With a final, reluctant glance, he began to retreat, slipping back into the shadows where he belonged. But he would return. He was certain of that.

It didn't take long for him to crave more. Soon, seeing you asleep wasn't enough.

The door of your bathroom was ajar, just enough for him to peer inside without being noticed. Steam curled out from the small gap, warm and fragrant, carrying the scent of your soap and shampoo into the cool air. It filled his nostrils as he edged closer without a sound. You stood under the spray, your head tilted back, eyes closed as the water cascaded over your body. The droplets caught in your hair and ran down your skin, glistening like tiny diamonds in the dim light. He watched, transfixed, as you moved beneath the stream. Your hands glided through your hair and over your body. There was something almost hypnotic in the rhythm of your movements, in the way you seemed so completely at ease, so unaware of the eyes that lingered on you from the shadows. He knew he shouldn’t be here, knew this was a line he had never intended to cross. But the allure of your presence, the simple beauty of you, was too much to resist. He felt a strange mix of hunger and something softer, something like longing, as he watched the water trace the contours of your body. His fingertips tingled with the image of your warm skin underneath his touch. For a brief moment, your eyes flicked open, and he held his breath, though he knew you couldn’t see him. You looked toward the door, a vague sense of something stirring in your gaze, but then you blinked and turned back to the water, shaking off whatever fleeting thought had crossed your mind. The vampire exhaled silently with relief. The brief moment of contact, of almost being caught, sent a thrill through him. He took one last lingering look at you, committing every detail to memory; the curve of your neck, the straight line of your spine, and the softness of your thighs. And then, as quietly as he had come, he slipped back into the shadows. The image of you under the shower would stay with him, a vivid memory to savor during the long hours of daylight.

Soon, his visits began to feel like a dance. He moved in perfect sync with you through the house. When you entered a room, he slipped into the shadows, always just out of sight, careful to remain unseen. He knew the rhythm of your nights, the way you moved from room to room, the way you lingered by the window or paused to turn off a light. But as the nights went on, something stirred within you; a suspicion that someone was there, watching, staying just out of your way but never leaving.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of onions sizzling in the pan. You moved methodically, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, trying to focus on the simple task of making dinner. The rhythm of cooking usually soothed you, but tonight, something was off. The feeling had been creeping up on you all evening, a persistent, unsettling sense that you weren’t alone. It gnawed at the edge of your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. The house was quiet, too quiet, and every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, seemed loud in the stillness. You paused for a moment, the knife hovering above the cutting board, and glanced around the kitchen. The lights cast long shadows across the floor, stretching into the corners where the darkness lingered. You told yourself it was nothing, just your imagination running wild, but the hairs on the back of your neck refused to settle down. As you returned to your cooking, your movements became more hurried, more anxious. The feeling of being watched grew stronger. You tried to shake it off, focusing on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting away from your dinner. Finally, you set the knife down with your heart beating faster than it should. You turned slowly, scanning the room, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of something, or someone, in the shadows, but there was nothing, just the empty kitchen and the low hum of the refrigerator. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the unease remained. The feeling of eyes on you, of someone lurking just out of sight, was too strong to ignore. Every movement you spent in the kitchen, or anywhere in the house was accompanied by the prickling sensation that you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As your suspicion grew and fear settled into your home, the vampire's feelings deepened. What had begun as a mere fascination had slowly morphed into something more serious, something he could no longer ignore.

The night was crisp and quiet, with only the distant hum of the city breaking the stillness. The vampire stood outside your window, hidden in the darkness. His eyes were fixed on the warm glow spilling from inside your home. The curtains were partially drawn, just enough to reveal you sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and engrossed in the flickering screen of the TV. He had watched you countless times, seen you in every possible light and shadow, but tonight was different. The sight of you curled up in your cozy living room, lost in the world of your favorite show, stirred something within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The way you snuggled into the blanket with a sigh that escaped your lips as you laughed at something on the screen moved something in him. It was all so intimate, so utterly human. His gaze softened, and he felt a pang of longing so intense it almost hurt. He watched the way your eyes danced with amusement, how your expressions changed with the flow of the story, and how you seemed to be completely at ease in your own world. It was in these small, everyday moments that turned his feelings into something more than fascination or obsession. He was in love with you. His heart, dead for a long time, ached with a longing he hadn’t known was possible. As he stood there, his thoughts raced. He had been drawn to you from the beginning, but now he realized it was more than mere curiosity or obsession. He had come to adore you even from afar. The way you lived your life, so genuine and unfiltered, made him yearn for things he had long forgotten. He imagined what it would be like to sit beside you, to be part of these simple moments that meant so much to him. The love he felt was both exhilarating and painful, a reminder of how far he was from the life he desired. The thought of revealing himself, of breaking through the barrier he had maintained for so long, seemed both a terrifying and exhilarating possibility, but he knew there was no way back. There was no way he could just walk away from you.

Watching you through the window, observing your life from the shadows only deepened his longing. He couldn’t go on like this. Being so close, yet so far wasn’t enough anymore.

You turned the corner with an eagerness in your chest to get inside your home and unwind after a long day at work. Your keys jingled in your hand as you approached your front door but before you could reach the stairs leading up onto your small porch, you noticed a figure standing in front of your neighbor's house. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a dark suit that seemed to absorb the lights of the streetlamps towering at the edge of the sidewalk. He was engrossed in a conversation with the elderly couple who lived next door. Their faces were lit with curiosity and welcome as they nodded at something the stranger said. As you drew closer, without your notice or permission, he turned to face you, and an unexpected chill rippled down your spine. His smile was disarmingly charming, but there was something about it that made you pause. In the dim glow of the street lights, you noticed the glint of his fangs, sharp and white. They caught the light in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “I’ve just moved into the house next door.” You blinked, momentarily speechless. “Oh, hello,” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize the house was sold.” His smile widened, and he took a step closer, extending a hand. “Yes, it’s quite recent. I’m delighted to meet you. I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself to the neighbors before now.” You hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, and his touch was unexpectedly cold. “I’m Y/N,” you said, trying to smile. Your throat felt dry and tight as you forced the words to roll off your tongue. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” “Thank you,” he said, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I’ve heard good things about this area.” You glanced at the house he had just mentioned mostly so you had a reason to tear your gaze away from him. “Are you settled in?” “Almost,” The man replied. “Just a few more things to arrange. But I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.” The way he spoke, with an almost eerie calm and certainty, sent another shiver down your spine. “Well, if you need any help or information about the area, feel free to ask." You regretted your polite offer the moment it left your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his smile never wavering. “Thank you, Y/N. I’ll be sure to drop by soon. Have a lovely evening.” As you watched him turn back to the elderly couple, your heart was still racing. The encounter had left you with a sense of unease that you couldn’t quite shake but were too afraid to stay and look into it. You hurried inside, and after locking the door behind you, twice, you tried to push the strange meeting from your mind. It's fine, you thought. You just have a few difficult weeks behind you. But as you settled into your evening routine, the man's smile and those glistening fangs lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with a growing sense of curiosity and uncertainty about the new neighbor next door.

[spicybunni]

Yandere Dark Wizard x Maid!Darling

Little Dark Wizard blurb ! I’ve had this idea for like all of October and had to get it out of my system, enjoy! 🌙

WARNINGS!! ⚠️ : NSFW IMPLICATIONS, YANDERE TENDENCIES, OBSESSIVE, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You swept the floors clean by 8AM this morning, and now it was time to start on dusting this horrid tower again. Even though you dusted a week ago there are somehow a buildup of cobwebs and thick layers of dust on almost everything! It’s almost as if he uses his magic to make the tower more dirty, keeping you busy with work while he is away. He is Faris, the dark Wizard. About a year and a half ago you came to him, as a castle maid looking to give assistance to either a Witch or Wizard in exchange for lessons in magic wielding. He told you off the bat that it would take time and patience since you didn’t have the gift of magic to begin with.

When you first met him, you certainly did not expect him to be so…handsome, to say the least. With the rumors you’ve heard around the kingdom and castle, you thought he would look scarier. But he did have an intense look on his face giving you his full attention. Long black curls piling in the hood of his cloak, his robes gray and colorless, and his eyes were sage green. No wonder the other maids gossiped about him constantly when he visited. But for your sake you pushed your attraction for him to the side, just trying to make a business deal to better your life.

Through the months it was harder and harder to push your feelings down. He was stern but never had an outburst or became violent like the royals you used to serve. The only thing damned about your position is that he never lets you leave the tower without him. Needing to buy food? He’ll escort you through a portal to the nearest Market place. Need new clothes? No need for travel when he special order them for you.

He’s so stingy whenever you ask him about the “business” he takes care of during the day. 4 days out of the week, he leaves the tower from morning until late evening doing heaven knows what. You had gathered a technique in finishing your chores early. Which he absolutely despised. It’s not that he hated you having free time. He just doesn’t want you roaming into certain quarters of the tower. He kept such dangerous artifacts in certain rooms that if you explored, you just might hurt yourself. Which was the last thing he wanted. But usually when you did finish early you kept busy with either cooking dinner or doing some crafty hobbies you liked in your chambers. If he didn’t spot you in the kitchen he would either teleport to your room to knock or just peak to see you if you're there from afar.

Over the past year, unbeknownst to you, Faris has actually depended on you being here at the tower. At first he labeled it as just being reliant on a maid or a housekeeper to keep the place in order. But something sparked within him when you had the courage to speak to him outside the Royal Palace. You were a mistreated maid there and wanted a better life, a magical one. Who was he to refuse a future apprentice? Unfortunately for him now, he see’s you as more than a beloved maid. You were his.

Teaching magic to non magical humans did take time, but it was easy. You start with the basics of elemental magic, then energy magic, and if you asked him, he would teach you dark magic to defend yourself.

But teaching you to become your own Witch meant you would leave eventually…And these feelings of loneliness have swelled over the years before you came into his life. Perhaps he can push it a few months, making more excuses that you weren’t ready, or that his work requires his full concentration. He found that getting in close proximity to you and simply saying “Not now, Y/N.” when you asked questions made you stop for a few days. He found it so endearing that you would blush madly for him and be so shy to be close to him when he did stuff like that.

But you on the other hand we’re ready to take your lessons into your own hands now. You’ve done your part of the bargain. You just won’t ask anymore. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission right? Putting your broom and other cleaning equipment in the kitchen, you head over to the library with many anxious thoughts in your head. ‘Maybe he’ll be impressed when you show him- No, no don’t show him! He’ll find me out sooner if I do that- Ughh’

Finally coming up on the massive door, you bring out the spare key you borrowed from Faris. You only took it because he kept it in the same office drawer of a desk you clean every week. You knew it was for the library because it shared the same symbol of a skull that the library doors adorned on the wood. Obviously he didn't think you were such a curious darling. Plus it’s still midday, you’ll have plenty of time to browse and put things back where they belong.

With a click, the door unlocks. You push the doors open, revealing a massive collection of books with towering shelves holding them. Right when the doors opened a spark flew from the torches at the entrance to light all candles in the library. You gasp in amazement, quickly putting the key into your apron’s pocket. You step in further, glancing at the book spines, reading their titles. Some were just regular story books while others were encyclopedias, dictionaries, How-To’s and much more. There was a particular book that caught your attention. It was a faded purple color that shined in certain lighting. You pull it out reading the title ‘LOVE SPELLS AND POTIONS’. The book obviously stayed untouched for years, the spine wasn’t worn and the pages were crisp. You can tell by the color and feel of the paper that it’s an old book though. You had no need for any spells or potions within this book, but taking a peak is almost harm right?

You opened and flipped to a random page. The potion was for fertility and love making. But before you could even read the details a black swirl of mist appeared in the middle of the library, making the shelves rumble. It opened up like a portal, making you tremble holding the book to your chest like a shield. You panic thinking it’s an entity of some sort coming into the tower but then you see Faris walking through, looking around until he spots you. His face looks both displeased and amused at the same time. He takes languid steps towards you. You gulp, not having expected any of this, to be caught so red handed by your Wizard most of all.

“I did not expect this, my darling maid. You actually had the gall to trespass into my library and get ahead of yourself.” He chuckles, removing his coat as he comes to you.

“And I see the thing you’ve decided to learn from first is?..” He raises his hand with his palm down, turning it up and flicks his wrist back, making an unseeable force take the book hiding within your arms. “W-Wait! Faris I-“ he pays no attention to your cries of embarrassment. As the book floats into his grasp he holds his other hand out in a stop motion, making the invisible force block ho. He marks the page you were at with a finger before looking at the front cover.

You can see his eyes read the title, creasing slightly by his grin as he looks back to you. “Really Y/N? Love Potions?” His magic releases its hold on you. You’re fidgeting with your hands with a face as red as rubies. You were about to speak your truth before you see he’s about to see the page you were on. Your mortified expression fuels him to carry on with his torment. You didn’t really think you were going to be unpunished for sneaking into a forbidden room of his tower?

He looks over the potion ingredients with the…expressive.. illustrations on the page. He chuckles at you begging to stop and trying to grab the book. “Oh dear, a fertility potion huh?” He looks back at you now, making you freeze in your actions.

“Listen Faris, I just thought the book looked pretty! Stop drawing it out like this! You know I didn’t-”

You were pulled to him by his magic, your front against his. A hand rests itself on your lower back. You look up at him, hands on his robes. You’ve never embraced him like this before. It was making you flush so warm against his body.

“If you’d like, my dear Y/N, your first magic lesson can be from this book…”

~~~~

Part 2??

[caesariawritesstuff]

Frenemy

Summary: It's tough being on opposite sides of the law when it comes to Edward Nigma.

Content Warning: Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 1.3k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

There’s a beep in your ear as Oracle’s voice comes over your comm, “I think I finally tracked Nigma’s location. But he’s bouncing it off several cell towers. I’ve got Robin checking out the first, can you get to the second?”

You sighed. Not this again. With a shake of your head, you replied, “Yes. Give me the address.”

She spouted it off to you, but you were just barely registering her voice. Because instead, you felt a deep disappointment growing within you.

You’re not sure how it started, exactly. This strange frenemy-type of thing you had going on with Edward Nigma. Probably a year ago, when you were the first to arrive on the scene of one of his schemes. Back then, you’d been new to vigilantism, new to the role of Batgirl, which Oracle had honorarily given to you. You were still new to your training and not as on guard as you should’ve been – and that’s how you found yourself in the clutches of the Riddler.

He'd mocked you, forcing you to solve his riddles, using as bait until Batman arrived. But to his surprise, you’d managed to solve every single one. You’d watched as his smug smirk twisted into a sneer of humiliation and outrage. He’d thrown one of his usual tantrums, claiming you were cheating or getting outside help. You assured him you weren’t.

And maybe, deep down, you think he believed you.

With another heavy sigh, you grappled across Gotham’s rooftops as quickly as you could. The roar of sirens and alarm bells and nightlife rang throughout, a symphony of criminal chaos. Within minutes, you found yourself out of what appeared to be an abandon apartment building: the shudders were boarded shut, rust covered the metal doors. It looked as though it happened been lived in in quite some time, but you knew better; it was exactly the perfect hideout for the Riddler to hole up in. Inconspicuous and unnoticed. You quietly searched the windows and doors, looking for the perfect way in – but you finally found it: a small, electronic box that appeared to be an old power box. But instead, you flipped it open to reveal a screen. Staring back at you were the bright, green words: When you don't have me, you want me, but when you do have me, you want to give me away. What am I?

You smiled; that’s an easy one. Quickly you punched in the answer: Secret.

As expected, a hidden compartment within brick walls slid forward, revealing a secret passageway inside. You held your breath, keeping your guard up, as you followed the path in. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and smell of dank mold clung to the air. Scrunching up your nose, you tried not to breathe as you followed the passage for several yards until you finally came to his hideout.

You spotted him sitting before an array of vast monitors and computers, all glowing bright green, enveloping him in their emerald glow. The top of his bowler hat peeked over the back of the chair he was in.

With a sigh, he spun around and faced you. “I should’ve expected you,” he said, annoyance lacing his tone. He leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands, which were rested on the top of his cane.

“Hoping I was someone else?” you asked.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smirk, and you grinned back. It was strange, how this was what had become of your relationship. After all these months, time and time again, you’d somehow found yourself in this position with him. And even though you were on other sides of the law, you couldn’t help but find some enjoyment in your small interactions with him.

And there’d been plenty more than you expected.

He turned away, his focus back on the screens. “Go away, little Bat. You’re going to ruin my plans before they’ve even begun.”

You laughed lightly, wandering into the rest of the hideout. Your gaze focused on the screens, on each camera which was pointed somewhere important in Gotham. On one screen, you noticed Batman procuring himself one of Riddler’s trophies out of little green cage.

Edward snickered. “He got lucky with that one,” he said, but it was more to himself than to you.

“So,” you sighed. “What exactly are you planning this time? A giant robot? Hostages aboard a runaway train? Children dangling above a vat of acid?”

He paused his typing, glancing at you. “Perhaps.”

You snorted. “Come on Edward, don’t be in such a mood. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your plans.”

“Come back later, then. I have more important things to deal with.”

“Like outsmarting Batman? You know he’s going to come here and kick the crap out of you, like usual.” It wasn’t the first time you’d watched as Edward got his shit kicked in and dragged out a broken, beaten mess.

Sure, you were trained in hand-to-hand combat yourself. But Batman had a particular brand of violence that you didn’t follow through with.

Edward was quiet for a longer moment that usual. Perhaps he was ruminating over your words. You put your hands on your hips and waited for his reply. Admittedly, you weren’t ready to walk out. For some strange reason you couldn’t explain it…he fascinated you. Despite his criminal crusade, he was incredibly smart, and you valued that.

And that was how you found yourself in this strange predicament with him – somehow always enjoying each other’s company. At least, you thought he must’ve come to tolerate you, because he wasn’t kicking you out anymore.

Your gaze strayed back to the monitors, studying their placement, before you shifted your attention to the dozens of blueprints and plans laid out in a scattered mess across his desk, several which were stained with a neat ring of coffee. His hand immediately shot out, arms covering what he could.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted with a click of his tongue. “These aren’t for your eyes, little Bat. It looks like you’re cheating to me. I knew your brain was the size of a peanut.” He rolled his eyes.

You barked out a laugh. “Right. Whatever you say.” A small smirk formed at the corner of your mouth, and you turned your attention back to the monitors. In one, Robin was just leaving the location Oracle had mentioned – which appeared to be booby-trapped, which he just narrowly escaped. Batman himself was solving another puzzle – also just missing a trap Riddler had programed to kill him as soon as he snatched up a trophy.

You held your breath as a chill crept down your spine. The sudden realization that you were sitting here with the Riddler, chatting with him as if you were friends – like always, it seemed fun at first. Harmless. Until the reality of the situation set in. That he was trying to kill the people you’d come to know and love.

Edward’s attention on the monitors, the scowl on his face as Batman continued to solve his riddles, didn’t budge. But unlike Batman, you weren’t about to go throwing fists.

“Ten minutes,” you said quietly. “I’m giving you a ten-minute head start.”

He paused, slowly turning to you. “Do you really think that’s wise?”

“Probably not.”

“See? I knew you were an idiot.” He chuckled lowly to himself, turning his attention back to the monitors, his fingers racing across the keyboard.

You walked out of the hideout and grappled onto a nearby rooftop, keeping a close eye. And within minutes, you watched him sneak out the hidden entrance. He smirked and tipped his hat to you, before sneaking away into the shadows. You reached down to your toolbelt and pushed a small tracking device, alerting the GCPD to your location. The minutes counted down like an eternity as you kept your eyes trained on the splash of green amongst the darkness.

And when those ten minutes were up, you followed.

[atinyjules]

Monalisa's Sister - Dad!Renjun

Hi! I am back with another dad au! This time featuring dad!Renjun and his little munchkin Zhanghao so enjoyy! It came out a lot shorter than expected o(╥﹏╥)o

Genre: Dad au, fluff, established relationship

Pairings: Dad!Renjun x Female oc

Warnings: None

Characters: Renjun, Yuri, Zhanghao (4), Ten, Ellie (7) and Xavier (6).

While the rest of the guys along with their families were busy searching for Halloween costumes the Huang family were busy getting their house ready for the annual Neo Family Halloween Party and it was the Huang's turn to host this year's party so the pressure was on for them.

"I'm tiredd!" Hao hao whined and sat down on the floor while holding the box filled with the fake spiders and cobwebs.

"I know but we need to finish on time." Renjun told his son who whined in protest.

"But its two days away!" he whined and walked to their Art studio where his mother was sat on a tall stool painting a large portrait for the party.

"Momma! Do we have to go all out for this party?!" he exclaimed to which she chuckled.

"Ask your dad~" she said while continuing her painting.

"Of course we have to go all out! Not after Haechan's party last year...his family rented out an amusement park!" Renjun exclaimed as Hao Hao smiled.

"That was fun!" he said earning a scowl from his dad.

"See, this is why we need to do something even better!" he exclaimed as his wife sighed.

"Junnie...we don't have to be better than anyone, we just have to host the party our way not try to defeat anyone who did it better the year before." she said as he sighed.

"You're right Yuri...thanks for the reality check." Renjun said and gave a small peck on the lips to his wife who finally got back down from the stool.

"Your welcome-where's Hao Hao?" Yuri asked and looked around when Hao Hao came in with a picture.

"Momma, is this you and dad?" he gave the picture to his mother who gasped in surprise.

"I haven't seen this picture in forever! Its a picture from when I first met your dad!" she exclaimed and handed the picture to Renjun who chuckled and rubbed the picture with his index picture.

"Brings back memories." Renjun said looking at the picture of him as Peter Pan and Yuri as Tinkerbell.

"Momma, did you meet dad on Halloween?" Hao Hao asked his mother as she nodded with a smile.

"We sure did...that was the first time I came to Seoul and your Uncle Ten took me to Uncle Johnny's Halloween party. That's when I stumbled across a very cute and dashing Peter Pan." Yuri said with a chuckled as Renjun smiled at his wife then Hao Hao.

"This was when I met and fell in love with your momma, that's why Halloween for the Huang family is a really special day Hao Hao. If I had never met your momma then you would have never been born so maybe that's why I tend to exaggerate Halloween a little too much." He said as Hao Hao giggled.

"Everything makes sense now! It makes me love Halloween even moree!" Hao Hao exclaimed earning a kiss on the cheek from his mother and a pat on the from his Father.

It was the day of the party and there was some little time left before the guests would start arriving. The Huang's were quickly setting up the finishing touches when the door bell rang.

"I'll get it!" Hao Hao who was dressed as Moomin went to get the door.

"Wassup Moomin~" Hao Hao immediately gasped and threw himself on the man who was dressed up as Monalisa.

"Uncle Ten!" Hao Hao exclaimed as Ten smiled and picked him up.

"Ayy, nice decor...Ten is impressed." Ten said and went out the door.

"Ellie, Xavier! Come in quickly or else no candies!" Ten called out to his own children who came running at the mention of candies.

"Hey Zhanghao!" Ellie exclaimed and gave her younger cousin a hug.

"Ellie! Xavier!" he exclaimed and hugged his cousins.

"Woah! Cool decor!" they both exclaimed when Renjun and Yuri came out of the living room.

"Ten!" Yuri who was dressed as a fairy exclaimed and hugged her big brother.

"Ayy, good thing I wore my iconic outfit again, your outfits remind me of the first time you two met."

"Yeah, who would've thought I would fall for Monalisa's sister." Renjun said pulling Yuri close to him by her waist. As they chatted, their bodies became a distant blur and focussed on the picture that was framed up in the middle of the living room. A picture of Peter Pan and his Tinkerbell in a dimly lit living room.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello, I hope this finds you well (since I don't really know how to use Tumblr).

Female, 19 y/o. I'd like to request a type confirmation for INFJ.

My type assessment may be difficult because:

1) I have been "sheltered" all my life and lack experience, so I don't know if I could truly give satisfactory examples.

2) I used to blame myself for not being like my family members and came to dislike my type, whatever it is. Reading your blog helped me realize that I should never try to be them and accept who I am though, but there's still a long way to go till I reach proper self-acceptance.

3) Due to that, I'm pretty much sure that my functions are both unhealthy and immature.

4) English is not my first language. Although I have little to no trouble reading fiction in English, reading your blog had me looking for my dictionary 95% of time. I'm still not sure whether I understood what you wrote or not.

Dominant Ni

Whenever I hear Ni associated with purpose, I always wonder whether I have Ni or not. The first image I have of such a strong sense of purpose is that of a kid who has always known they wanted to be a doctor and grew up to become one. I never had such a clear image in my mind. Or should I say, I used to have one: I didn't want to work in any particular field, but I have always aspired to be like my mom and my sister.

Now though, I think the whole idea of child-doctor doesn't capture what purpose is. To me, most of the things I do and enjoy have some kind of purpose, as silly as it may sound: I crochet to make myself the plush toys I couldn't find when I was a kid, I chose a major I was originally uninterested in because I realized it could help me in the future, I try to turn my ideas/feelings into stories to give them more concrete form and make them more explainable… Purpose in my life is what makes what I'm doing worthwhile: making good memories to look back at in the future, adding that to my life experiences, acting according to what my inspiration once said, learning a new skill to apply in my other hobbies, etc…

Maybe everyone does that, I don't know. All I know is that everything I do must have some kind of meaning to it. Otherwise, I would feel lost and not see a reason to continue anymore. If it drags on for too long, I would become an empty shell of myself and would literally stop functioning until I find a new meaning to what I'm doing again.

I would often daydream about how things would turn out great. Those imageries are what push me to pursue something (or avoid something if I imagined bad scenarios, but that only happens when I'm stressed). The problem is, when things don't turn out as I expected, I feel… disappointed? No, that word is too light. Crushed maybe.

I rarely completely abandon an idea, I would just find another way or another time to make it come true. For all my hopes and dreams that I can't realize at this very moment, I have learnt to put them "on hold", with the promise that one day, when I am in a better position/situation, I will get back to them and work for them.

If I had to describe my mind, it would be like a cobweb: everything seems to be interconnected in a way that may not be evident to everyone else (for example how a panda is associated to China, that one anime character, that one actor, that one time we were asked to name an animal in class and I answer panda, how the black and white colors and the chinese aspect reminds me of the yin and yang, etc). There was a time when I believed everyone thought like that, until my sister pointed out that I "think too much".

People, especially my sister, always tell me that I think too much, am too serious, unrealistic, too intense, a perfectionist and a lot of other things listed in the Ni dominant characteristics.

Inferior Se

Ni extremes

Oftentimes, I would rather stay in my own little bubble or my own imagination than putting myself out there. I have so many ideas but rarely ever turn them into reality (I either lack motivation or feel that just having the idea is enough to make me happy). People close to me would often point out or even criticize that lack of action of mine, saying that what good are my ideas if I don't even realize them.

I also see no point in engaging with shows, songs or whatever is trendy with people around me. I mean, it could help me strike a conversation with them but I just don't want to waste my time on something that I know won't even interest me. Quite hypocritical because I want people to try my interests so that we could talk about it. So yeah, missing good opportunities checks out too I guess.

Loss of normal and healthy dominant Ni functioning

Before I chose my current major, I wanted to do Psychology. But then my family didn't really support my decision, because (to only cite a few) not only was there no proper psych university in my country but it was also hard (almost impossible even) to find a job related to it here. As time went by, I started questioning my whole choices while blaming myself for not realizing those problems sooner, my mind felt like an chaotic mess, I didn't know what else to do, where to go. Choosing psych felt meaningless, yet choosing another major seemed meaningless too. My future just seemed… dark? inexistent? unfulfilling? (I got better anyway but that was still one of the darkest period of my life even though it only lasted about 2 weeks)

Although there are only rare occasions where it got that bad, whenever my ideals are dashed by the harsh reality I was blind to, I would go through a similar (but less heightened) process of succumbing to darkness (I don't know if that's the word)

Se grip tendencies

There is one bad habit I picked when I was twelve, but knowing me it probably started even earlier but I don't remember. It's just that the year I was twelve was one of the most memorable period of my life because it sucked. Back then, I was thrown into an environment with no one I knew, so I was destabilized.

I was too afraid to approach other people and fooled myself into thinking that they probably didn't want to be friends with me, that they were jealous of me, or other things like that (just because they weren't the same "type" of people as me). Back then, I decided that I wasn't going to befriend anyone and instead spent my whole time drawing and reading (it made me forget my situation but also made it look like I was busy). Despite my big talks about nit wanting friends, I watched many cartoons about friendship at home.

Back then, if my family even dared suggesting anything that defied my way of thinking, I would lash out, yell, fight, get on the defensive… In short: I'll become aggressive. I would often wonder if throwing/breaking things would help me calm down, but in the end I never do (I can't bring myself to).

Even now, whenever I'm in a new environment, I have a urge to isolate myself like that and merge with my pencil and paper. But I know I'll regret it even more, so I don't.

Working in a group that doesn't meet my standards stresses me out. Especially when we start running out of time and there's nothing substantial that has been done. All little details would assault my mind: the grammatical errors, the forgotten commas, the titles that do not have the same style / font / font size, the poor color choice… If the stress is too much, I would 1) confront my group members and maybe yell a them (which I never do) or 2) not give a fuck (sorry for the language) about the project and the group anymore and just do whatever I want like watching movies, going on library dates with my sister, etc.

Auxiliary Fe

Resisting Fe

I already said before, but there are times, especially when meeting new people in a new environment, when I can't get close to others and even avoid them so that I'm not reminded of my poor social skills. I would sometimes think that they're judging me, so I avoid them even more, when in truth people most likely don't care about me at all since I do nothing to make myself worth remembering. It creates a pattern of wanting to get close to people, fearing negative judgement, avoiding them, and so on. That was my way of protecting myself from society's "harms".

Overindulging Fe

I care too much about what people think, so much that I want to avoid doing everything that might make unlikable. I once felt like people did not like me for always being the top of the grade because it looked like I was boasting. At the same time, I thought they would ridicule me if I failed to be the top student. It also made me link my self-worth with my academic results. I'll stop here because I don't think anyone wants to what how self-concious I am of everyone's gaze.

Healthy Fe

My Fe is not that healthy, if it was I wouldn’t be so prone to Ti-loops. However, there had been some improvements from before. I'm still uncomfortable during first meetings and talk little (or not at all), but I have learnt not to stay as passive the second day: I would engage conversations with other people and it would always be gratifying. I stopped to think (or at least try to remind myself) that people are unlikely to hate me from the first meeting or whatever dark thoughts I entertained at first.

I am able to be genuine around people, and it finally feels like I truly "belong" because they like me for who I am.

Tertiary Ti

Chronic Fe underdevelopment

As I said before, I fear how people see me. I would feel too self-concious about my weaknesses, causing me to feel inferior to others (in terms of socializing, but also at being realistic). You would see me do many researches to somehow compensate with my lack of knowledge and such, because I don't want to be seen as someone who doesn't know anything.

Many times, I do not even realize my negative feelings, so I don't do anything about them. That was the case of me not realizing I wanted human connection back then.

There are also those times when I feel like everyone judges me all the time (I know it's irrational)

Ti loop

Well, I'm pretty much sure that everything I said before already have addressed Ti loop: me denying needing friends, me blaming others for being too different / not genuine so we could never be friends, the fallacies in my logic, overthinking, relying on my grades to define my self-worth, etc.

Most of these problems are problems I still face regularly, and I have to make a conscious effort not to fall into the same old pattern again.

I also apologize for not comparing two types at least. I did try to but I could never find anything to write except for the (unhealthy) INFJ stack.

---------------------

Generally speaking, if you have examined all 16 types and no type seems to fit better, you've probably got the right answer. Everything aligns quite well with the INFJ stack. Nothing you've raised leads me to have any serious doubts.

[prodigal-explorer]

evening star - sanders sides fanfiction - iv

(let me know if you want to be on the tag list!)

previous part | next part

word count: 2.6k

(cw -> broken bones, blood, implied ptsd, resetting a dislocated joint, knife wounds, muzzles, collars, begging, dehumanization, infected wounds, needles, medical stitches)

summary: janus and remus discover what's been happening to roman, and as they fix him up as well as they can, roman starts to panic. the idea of having more people owning him is paralyzing, and it's all roman can think about while he's at the mercy of the "dark sides".

---

The living room had a dim feel to it, but it wasn’t scary. Roman wasn’t sure what he had expected the dark mindscape to look like, but it certainly was not this. 

It just looked like a normal living room. No cobwebs, no torture devices. It even smelled like someone had just finished baking bread. The couch was large, and a homey dark brown. It looked even more comfortable than the couch in the light mindscape. There was a fireplace too, though it was off. But the room was already so warm that Roman didn’t think a fire was necessary anyway. 

“Here, sit,” Janus said without a moment of hesitation, leading Roman to the couch. “I need to look at that arm, it looks broken.” 

Roman sat down and winced as he noticed the still-wet blood staining the couch where he leaned against it. His face burned with dread as Janus’ eyes wandered towards the stain, and Roman had a feeling that this false kindness, this game that Janus was playing, would be over very soon. 

“Oh my gosh…” Janus mumbled, his eyes widening. 

He reached a hand out towards Roman, and violently, Roman flinched back, his eyes squeezing shut as he braced his body for punishment. 

But none came. 

Janus put a hand on Roman’s uninjured shoulder, gently turning him around so his back was facing Janus. With the utmost care and tenderness, Janus lifted the red t-shirt Roman had been wearing, and his stomach twisted in horror when he saw what had caused such a bloodstain on his couch: a large gash down Roman’s back, clearly created by a knife. It was haphazard, deeper at some points than others. And judging by the graying skin and the sickly yellow liquid leaking out of the wound, Janus had a feeling that it was badly infected. 

“Roman, little one, who did this to you?” 

Roman averted his gaze, and when Janus questioned his silence, he realized that Roman still had that dreadful thing on his mouth. A dark black contraption, made with a strange amalgamation of metal and plastic. A bit that was pressed so far into Roman’s mouth that it was a wonder he could even make a sound at all. Immediately, Janus unclipped the device, relieved at how easy it was to do. Roman coughed as he was released, a wet, hacking cough. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered, his voice hoarse. 

Janus’ heart sunk to the floor. This was a huge red flag. Roman hardly ever apologized, and for him to apologize unprompted was simply unheard of. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeated, the words hitting with more urgency and desperation, as more tumbled out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, please let me go, please don’t tell them you did this! Don’t tell them you saw me! I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything for you! Anything! Please, just leave me alone! Please! Please…” 

His begging slowly transitioned into a primal, animalistic whine. Roman looked to be so overtaken by panic, his mind clouded over with fear and the possibility of being hurt again. Janus didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t stand the sight of Roman like this. 

“My dear prince,” Janus murmured, taking Roman in his arms, and trying to give him the gentlest of hugs that was possible to provide. “You don’t have to do anything for me, alright? Calm yourself…please, calm yourself. I’m here. I’m going to help you. We’re going to try and clean up your back. Okay? And then, we’re going to work on that arm, get it feeling a little better. I don’t have all this stuff just laying around, so I’m going to need you to summon for me. Can you do that?” 

Eyes widening, Roman shook his head, partly in disbelief, and partly in fear. He couldn’t summon. That was strictly forbidden. Summoning was the reason why he had that gash in his back. It was the reason why he had this muzzle. He had been forced to summon it as a lesson: summoning was bad. Summoning would only hurt Roman in the end. 

“I can’t,” he wheezed, “I’m sorry, I can’t- I can’t- break the rules. I won’t, I’m a good boy. I’m good. I’m not going to break the rules, see? I’ll be good. I’ll be the best puppy you’ve ever had, I promise.” 

He wore a terrifying smile that made Janus’ insides crawl. The tears shining in his eyes, the way he trembled and shook. The disgusting words coming out of his mouth. Janus felt like he was in a hazy, dizzying nightmare. Like he would wake up gasping and sweating any second. 

But he didn’t. 

This was real, whether he liked it or not. 

“It’s okay, little one,” Janus whispered, unable to speak any louder out of pure shock. “It’s okay. Please don’t cry. Please don’t fret. I won’t make you summon if you can’t. I’ll go ask Remus for what I need. I’m going to have to leave you here for a moment, okay? Just for a moment while I get the things I need.” 

Roman went completely silent. 

“Is that okay?” 

No response. 

Janus sighed, and approached Roman, lifting his chin ever so gently with his finger to try and make eye contact to assure himself that it would be okay leaving Roman alone. But when he did, he saw that Roman’s eyes were closed. And he was barely breathing. 

Janus’ breath caught in his throat, and his heart felt like it was going to explode. 

“Shit,” he whispered, “Shit, shit, I- I- Remus! Remus! I need you, Remus!” 

Janus’ cries were desperate, pleading. He didn’t want it to come to this. Considering how panicked Roman looked when Janus discovered him, Janus imagined that the idea of Remus finding out about this would make the poor prince have a heart attack. 

But Remus was difficult to locate. Janus didn’t have time to go searching for him, and he had no idea how severe Roman’s condition was now. All Janus knew was that he couldn’t lose Roman. He just couldn’t. The dear little prince who he had a soft spot for, the lovely man who always knew how to put a smile on Janus’ face. This couldn’t happen. 

Thankfully, Remus rose up into the room in response to Janus’ cries. It wasn’t normal at all for Janus to act this way, hysterical and wound up. Usually, Janus was very calm under pressure. But this was too much for anybody to bear. 

“I need- I need!-” Janus gasped for air, trying to gain control over his panicking body. “I need gauze, medical stitching, antibiotics for wound infection, a sling, a splint- what are you doing?? Hurry! I need- I need them. Now. I need- water, I need food- don’t just stand there!” 

Remus had been staring at Roman for the entirety of Janus’ hurried speech. But Janus’ demand spurred him into action, his eyes still glued onto his brother as he summoned each item with lightning speed, the objects crashing to the ground haphazardly. 

“What the fuck happened to him??” Remus demanded when all the objects were on the ground, and Janus was scrambling to pick them up and get to work. “Fuck- this is all my fault, I knew something was wrong, and I still didn’t- what the fuck is going on- what happened??” 

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.” 

Janus was trying to get a hold of himself. He couldn’t stitch Roman up if his hands were shaking. He cleared away the yellow liquid, used antibiotic ointment, and sterilized the needle before going in, praying to whatever was up there that Roman was too out of it to feel the pain. 

In, out. In, out. Moving up Roman’s back, Janus repeated the motion, creating neat little stitches. He tried to be careful with Roman’s delicate body, his beautiful skin dark from sun, but littered with countless cuts and bruises. When he was finished, he tied off the stitches and got to work on bandaging up the other cuts, and then splinting Roman’s arm. It was hard to tell exactly where the break was, but Janus assumed it was around Roman’s elbow, considering how his arm hung limply. After tightly tying the splint to Roman’s arm, he bandaged up the arm and set the sling around Roman. 

And now was the hard part: resetting Roman’s shoulder. 

It was so far out of Roman’s socket that looking at it made Janus feel sick. But he couldn’t let his weakness prevent Roman from getting the treatment he needed. Remus was frozen still as he watched the procedure, unable to tear his gaze away from Roman’s face, strangely peaceful in his unconscious state. It was a stark contrast to the extreme panic he had been exhibiting before, but Janus was too worried to be relieved. He pushed Roman’s shoulder upwards, trying hard to be gentle and effective at the same time. In circles, he pushed, and in linear motions he pushed, and in horizontal motions he pushed. He pushed and pushed, until finally, Roman’s shoulder popped back into place with a dizzying noise, and Roman startled awake from the pain. 

“What…?” he whispered, clearly disoriented. “What’s going…” 

He wasn’t even able to finish his question before his eyes fluttered closed again. Remus slunk out of the room. Not only did he not want to set off Roman even more with his presence, but he also had some…research to do. 

Janus was alone with Roman again. Holding the man in his lap, Janus cradled him back and forth, being sure to keep all pressure off Roman’s injuries. Patiently, he waited for Roman to wake up, hoping that he would do so before the food got cold and the water got stale. 

It looked like Roman hadn’t eaten in days. His muscles twitched with fatigue, and his eyes were clouded over and vacant. His ribs were showing, and he had deep-set, purple bags under his eyes. The Roman Janus knew would never tolerate such imperfections. But this wasn’t the Roman Janus knew. Not anymore. 

Gently, Janus continued to cradle Roman. Though Roman was taller than him, Janus found it easy to hold the man in such a way. It was as if it came naturally to care for the creative side. A song parted from Janus’ lips, quiet and lulling. A song that he and Roman knew very well. 

“Ou mata e matagi…” (Your eyes so full of wonder…) 

Roman stirred slightly in Janus’ arms. 

“Ou loto mamaiana toa…” (Your heart an innocent warrior…) 

Janus smiled fondly, and he couldn’t stop the hope that rose in his chest. 

“Manatu atu…taku pelepele…” (There’s a task for you…our dearest one…) 

Roman’s eyes slowly opened, and adjusted once again to the dim but comforting light of the dark sides’ living room. 

“You’re singing the Moana song,” he whispered dreamily, as if he was still partly asleep. “The Moana song…I love the Moana song…” 

“Do you want to finish it, my dear?” Janus asked, his voice a loving mumble. 

For a long, comfortable moment, the room was silent, except for the rising and falling of Roman and Janus’ breathing, practically in sync. 

“Pa mai to mafanafanaga…” (Let it flow over you…) 

Roman’s voice was dry and cracked, but Janus’ eyes filled with tears regardless. 

“Saolotoga tenei…” (This freedom you feel…)

His breathing hitched, and gently, Janus guided him through the next words. The two sang together, their voices quiet as a breeze blowing through trees. 

“Manatunatu…ki tamafine..” 

Roman opened his mouth to keep singing, but instead of words, a terrible coughing fit wracked through Roman’s body, rendering him breathless. 

“Oh, dear…” Janus mumbled. “You might be really sick. Here. Drink this, and take this pill with it. It’s an antibiotic, for…your back.” 

Numbly, Roman did as he was told without a second thought. He seemed used to this, following commands to the letter. He drank from the glass of water like he had been stuck in a drought for days, and he didn’t stop until it was empty. Blinking, he stared down at the sling, noticing that it limited his arm movement. In his exhausted, drugged-up state, Roman didn’t put the pieces together right away. He assumed this was some kind of restraint to keep him from leaving. He tugged at it, trying to move his arm and figure out what it was, but quickly, Janus held Roman’s arm and kept it in place firmly. 

“Don’t do that, please,” he said, his words spilling over each other in worry. “You might risk damaging it even more. It’s…a sling. See? It’s to keep your arm from moving so the bone can heal.” 

“Oh.” Roman relaxed, not moving his arm anymore. “I’m sorry.” 

His voice sounded just as numb as he looked, and his tone was almost robotic. Like he was reading from a script without any sort of emotion. He just looked disoriented and confused, like a child lost in a grocery store. Janus just wanted to protect him from everything. He knew that if the roles were reversed, Roman would stop at nothing to make sure that a fellow side was safe and taken care of, preening about how it was his princely duty to assure the wellbeing of every side. Even when they fought and squabbled, Janus could still sense the unflinching respect and admiration that Roman felt towards him. The poor thing made his feelings grotesquely obvious at every given moment he had them. But Janus didn’t mind. It only deepened his own love towards Roman. 

After all, love comes in many different forms. 

“Don’t apologize, lovely,” Janus reminded. “This isn’t your fault.” 

Silence hung over the room like a thick blanket. Janus was relaxed, but the stiffness made Roman uncomfortable. 

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, starting to sound just a little more like himself. “Why are you doing this? Why are you…erasing all their progress? Aren’t you worried they’ll get mad? Aren’t you mad at me?” 

“Roman, I have no reason to be mad at you,” Janus said, opting to use the side’s real name instead of a pet name. “Why would I get mad at you for getting hurt? There’s no point in that. You need help. I want to help you, I don’t want to see you hurting.” 

Roman winced. Anger bubbled in Janus’ chest. 

“Who are you talking about?” he whispered. “Who’s they? Who did this to you, Roman? Who made you think that you- that you deserve this?” 

Roman’s gaze went vacant once again, and Janus wanted to smack himself for causing Roman to retreat further back into the corners of his mind. 

“I’ll be good,” the creative side whispered. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. I’ll follow all the rules. I’ll never make a mistake. I’ll do everything you ask me to, I’ll take any punishment you have for me. I promise. I promise.” 

“Roman, what do you want from me?” Janus asked softly, tilting Roman’s chin upwards to initiate eye contact. “What do you want me to give you in exchange for…all this you’re offering?” 

Janus just didn’t understand. Usually, he was very adept with deals and bargaining and the like. But Roman’s words were scattered, as if he were drunken and rambling. 

“For you not to join them,” Roman said immediately. “Please, please don’t join them. You can take me, you can use me for whatever you want. I’ll do anything you ask, I’ll be a puppy, I’ll be a servant, I’ll be anything. I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll go back to them, and I’ll not say a word about you if that’s what you want. Just- please- don’t tell them you know. Don’t join them. I can’t have three. I can’t.” 

“Three what, darling?” Janus asked, his heart sinking to the floor. 

Roman sniffled, and it was then that Janus realized the creative side was crying. Genuinely crying, not creating tears for an audience. He gasped and swallowed a sob as he answered Janus’ question. 

“Three owners.”

[littlefreya]

I need this fluff in my life and so the heck do you!!

Getting matching PJs for you, Hen AND Kal!!

If my bestie needs fluff, I must comply!

Summary: Halloween is your favourite holiday, and frankly, it's quite an obsession of yours. However, seeing Henry and you just started dating, you are rather insecure and afraid of what he might think of you if he finds out...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (no description of body type or ethnicity)

Words: 1.3k

Themes: PG13, gooey fluff, insecurity, a new relationship, romance.

A/N: Not beta'd. Since it's an almost spooky season, I took the liberty of making this about Halloween 🎃 Special thanks to @agniavateira and @the-soot-sprite, who always encourage me to keep writing. Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed 🖤

🦇🎃👻 Spooky Season 👻🎃🦇

Halloween always held a special place in your heart. 

Every year as August kissed the sun goodbye and the first chill breeze of September drifted over your cheeks, the hunt for unique and creepy decorations would begin. There was no greater joy than turning your humble little pad into a haunted mansion and spending time with friends watching your favourite spooky films.

That is... Until Henry came along...

It wasn't that you didn't care for Halloween anymore. Quite the contrary, you couldn't wait for Autumn! For the first time in your life, you were about to share this special occasion with a boyfriend.

However, as days grew colder and the leaves on the tree outside your window fell golden to the ground, instead of feeling thrilled, you grew dreadfully insecure.

By October, you snuffed any mention of Halloween away. Fearing Henry would think your fixation was foolish, no decorations were purchased nor hung on your walls. And even when Henry randomly mentioned 'trick or treating', you heard yourself mutter, "who wants to go out on Halloween anyway? That's lame kids' stuff..."

And so... your obsession was buried under heaps of insecurity until the burning wick of your candle dwindled and died.

On the night of Hollows Eve, all you wanted to do was go home and lay snuggled on the sofa with Henry until the night was over. You decided to spend that time together not celebrating Halloween.  

Heading home from work, you kept your eyes vacant, not daring a glimpse at the children and teenagers who ran about in their costumes. You convinced yourself you didn't care for it anymore, when deep inside, you couldn't help but feel a needle in your heart every time you passed through a glowing jack o' lantern who leered at you from a neighbour's doorstep.

"Henry, I am home!" 

You declared as you finally unlocked the door. 

Oddly, the light was off.  

"Umm... Henry where..."

A flash of bright blue light blinded your sight, followed by a rumbling thunder that boomed angrily in your ears.

Confused and unable to see anything, you sought for the light switch in the dark when another lightening painted the house in pale icy shades. This time, the thunder accompanied a low, growly evil laughter with a familiar timbre.

"We've been expecting you..." 

Still in the dark, you heard someone click his fingers. At the little snap, a dozen little glowing tears of light lit your apartment in a dim orange glow.

Still hazy from the abrupt change, you rubbed your eyes and took a better look before a loud gasp of wonder escaped your lips. When you left home for work this morning, your apartment still looked like a mundane IKEA catalogue. The last thing you expected was to return to one of the dungeons hidden in Dracula's castle.  

Instead of naked white walls, you faced pitted bricks of grey stone cloaked by cobwebs and a dozen antique-looking candlesticks holding tall lamps that were made to look like candles. Smoke-wafting caldron stood upon the table, surrounded by plump pumpkins and several trays abundant with an assortment of sweets, including cookies that were made to look like green zombie fingers, bats and evil skulls. 

Astonished, you turned in your spot with your mouth agape, uncertain what to focus on first. Even the once-flat ceiling was remodelled as a blanket of pillowy clouds replaced the surface. Stringed flapping rubber bats hung from the top, and as you peered down, you spotted bloodied footprints all over the floor.  

"I thought the place could use a bit of redecoration..." 

Stepping from the corner, Henry finally appeared, donning a furry werewolf onesie and pointy rubber ears covered with shaggy grey hair. His beard was overgrown, the rounded tip of his nose tinted black, and the piercing sapphires that glanced at you so proudly were rimmed by black as well. 

In a passing thought, you mused that it was unfair that he wore eyeliner better than any other woman you knew!

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you managed a word, Henry pointed a finger in the air, "wait, that's not all!" He chimed, "Kal, to me!" 

Prancing through the corridor, the chunky bear-of-a-dog rapped with a playful greeting bark. Just like his master, the four-legged pal was wearing a matching furry onesie.

The pointy rubber ears covered his own, although there was no need for them. You wanted to laugh at the silliness of the situation, but once you breathed, you sensed the unmistakable sting in your eyes, and soon your sight became blurry. 

As Henry’s noticed your glossy eyes, his brow creased with concern. Rushing towards you, he grasped your forearms and lowered his head to get a better look at your face. 

"My love? What’s wrong?”

Tears kissed your cheeks but only for a moment. The back of your hand swept them away before you sprang a smile between quivering lips. “You did this?” You swayed your gaze across the room to gesture, “all of this for me?”

Henry’s concern faded into a soft grin. Tenderly, he leaned in to kiss your brow, his hands squeezing your forearms slightly firmer, “of course I did.”

Kal barked at his response, which made Henry instantly correct, “well, Kal, the ‘were-bear’ helped too.”

The dog barked again, tapping his paw on the floor in protest. 

“And…. the art department of Netflix,” Henry mumbled quickly.

Cheeks still damp, you giggled and knelt, planting a tender kiss on Kal’s snoot. “Thank you, Kal.”

Henry’s glance warmed your neck, admiration filling his heart as he saw you - his girl, tearing in childlike joy. It had only been six months, though secretly, he already knew; he could spend a lifetime bringing a smile to your face, and just as this thought resonated in his mind, he remembered he hadn’t even finished unveiling all his surprise.

“Hang on. There is more!” He called and rushed to fetch a small bag hidden behind the sofa. 

Smiling with anticipation, you peered inside, pleasantly surprised to find another werewolf onesie to match his and Kal's, so now the three of you can wear matching pyjamas. 

“Only werewolves get to join Halloween celebrations this year…”

“Shouldn’t you bite me first in order to turn me?” You suggested with a quirk of an eyebrow while fishing the outfit from the bag. 

“The night is young…” Henry responded and then leaned in. His breath blew hot against your neck as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, and with a growl, he uttered, “I plan to do plenty of biting…”

But as he drew back, all whimsical and wickedness faded. Like the ocean kissed by the sun, his eyes sparked, the gleam of the dozen ‘candlelight’ reflecting in it while he offered a deep glance. 

“Why did you pretend not to care about it? All your friends told me how much time you spent every year getting ready…” His palm reached your nape, thumb grazing the length of your spine affectionately to reassure you. 

You looked away, both ashamed of your pretence but also at what you thought he’d find as a foolish fixation, “I didn’t mean to lie or anything, I was just afraid…”

“Of what?” His thumb further caressed your skin, sensing how the hair stood on the back of your neck.

“I was afraid you’d think I am weird.”

“You are weird,” he exclaimed and shrugged, “that’s why I love you.”

Hearing his words made your heart skip. Once again, the tears tickled your eyes. Inadubly, you mouthed, “thank you” as the words couldn't make their way through your clenching throat.

Henry’s hand moved from your nape to your cheeks and gently so, wiped away your tears. “Now go and change, darling, because like I said, only werewolves can join the celebration.”

Nodding, you snatched the bag from his grasp and hurried to change your outfit. That night and every night since, the 31st of October became the most important date of in the Cavill Household, where each time, both Henry and you sought creative ways to top the last year's celebration.

With the help of Kal, of course!

[lubdubsworld]

Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC 

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so ) 

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes] 

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond. 

Everyday began much the same. 

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work. 

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point. 

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes. 

But not today. 

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little. 

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?” 

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way. 

It had been eight years ago.

 A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg. 

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back. 

But the nerve damage stayed. 

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches. 

But it wasn’t something I could hide. 

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed. 

The girl who couldn’t walk. 

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place. 

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.” 

I smiled a little. 

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said . 

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly. 

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole. 

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran  marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered. 

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy. 

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large  portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed. 

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be. 

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company. 

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son. 

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing. 

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me. 

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad. 

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it. 

It was a brutal sort of realization. 

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change. 

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate. 

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed. 

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.  

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking. 

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.                                                              

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me? 

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone  and of course, how little he cared about me. 

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid. 

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him. 

There was a reason. There had to be. 

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to 

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days. 

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me. 

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant. 

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

 Finally. Now he can’t leave you. 

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in. 

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face. 

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here? 

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped. 

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me. 

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms. 

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the 

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?” 

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare. 

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively. 

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated. 

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned. 

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking. 

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists. 

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would. 

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes .  I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked. 

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away. 

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened. 

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt. 

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “ 

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly. 

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway. 

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

 Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it? 

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were  a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to 

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it. 

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day. 

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked. 

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch. 

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared , 

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously. 

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left. 

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either. 

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate. 

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place. 

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me. 

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting. 

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name. 

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. 

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something. 

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed. 

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?” 

He exhaled sharply. 

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I’d been standing for too long. 

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled. 

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint. 

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened. 

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head. 

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore. 

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly. 

 Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

 I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out. 

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost. 

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath. 

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a  thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it. 

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face. 

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.” 

Silence. 

“Have you told your parents?” 

I exhaled sharply.

“No.” 

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him. 

“No.” I said softly. 

He sighed. 

“Alright. Should  I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?” 

I laughed. 

“How very practical of you..” i said. 

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

 This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly. 

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted. 

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us? 

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently. 

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?” 

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt. 

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.” 

I turned away. 

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down. 

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest. 

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing. 

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling. 

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought. 

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control. 

[tartagilicious]

sun and moon > xiao

happy (late-ish) valentine’s day yall! thank you, mihoyo, for once again reminding me that i’m easily attached to emotionally unavailable pretty boys. the "I hate everyone but you" trope is real here, I wanna be his friend and gain his trust like this is a mf otome game. to anyone still pulling for him, good luck~ don’t worry, you have a little bit more time and more free rewards are also on the way!! have some soft xiao for good luck >:D // w.c 1.9k // not a request 

also a big ty to @seerie​ for being my beta reader, bc I don’t know what I’m doing 🥴

summer sky by asking for a friend

You hiss softly as Xiao runs a damp cloth over the gash adorning the length of your cheekbone, face scrunching as his eyes narrow in concentration. It feels somehow wrong to have him taking care of you, much less sitting in front of you and dressing your wounds himself.

A majority of the bleeding had stopped not long ago, but there's still another fear that plagues you more -- your agreement with the yaksha adeptus, or rather contract, specifically trying to combat injuries on your behalf.

You aren’t sure if chickening out on calling him in the midst of the situation you were hurt is grounds for breaking the contract somehow, though either way, Xiao has always seemed to be quite serious regarding his promises. You remember his first and only instructions to you weeks ago being clear and concise,

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name; adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

Surely a small wound like this wasn’t serious enough?

Xiao pulls the fabric away from your face and silently notes what must be the mess of blood covering it, lips turning up in a grimace. His standards of emergency are usually as one would expect, though lately for whatever reason, even the smallest of your wounds tend to put him in a bad mood.

From such a standoffish person, it’s a bit hard to get used to or understand -- but a part of you is only happy to know that there’s a chance he might care more than he lets on.

“...The abyss mages, they just came out of nowhere,” You try to explain but the silence is deafening. Eyes downcast to the stool beneath your legs, you mumble, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Xiao doesn’t give any more of a reaction than an arched brow and a slight gesture with the gruesomely dyed cloth. You half expect him to be irritated; to give you a lecture on keeping an eye on your surroundings or to take better care of yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks away and shakes his head, spiking your nerves with a low sigh.

He looks back at you as he rests his elbow on his knee and thrusts out the cloth again, almost in exasperation. “Why didn’t you call my name?”

You feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth, and suddenly, you’re terrified to answer honestly. As already long-established, Xiao is someone who despite thousands of years of trauma, remains as hard as the rock of the nation he watches over. Compared to his lifespan, you’re relatively immature, so the last thing you want is to give an embarrassing reason to make him think that you suddenly don’t trust him enough to help.

“I-I don’t know,” You stutter and curse pitifully inside your head as you return his eye contact. “But I can’t just call you every time I’m in trouble, especially when I think I can deal with it myself, right?”

He scoffs as if you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing.

“This shouldn’t have to be a discussion. Your capabilities don’t lack anything, but your hesitation may very well be the death of you.”

“I never hesitated,” Though your voice is more steadfast, any illusion of confidence is shattered by the way you fidget with your hands. “I only misjudged. I make mistakes sometimes, but I think you forget that I’ll heal even after the worst of these injuries.”

Xiao sighs and crumples the bloodstained cloth in the palm of his hand, caging himself in his arms before speaking again -- just as he always does.

“Don’t be outrageous, I haven’t forgotten anything.” He averts his gaze and for a moment, you swear that you notice the tips of his ears flush. “It’s only ignorant to assume that I want to see you injured.”

Your brows knit as a similar knot slides down your throat. “I just, I just don’t get why you’re so worried about it.”

He stares at you, once again, as if you’ve just said something completely outlandish -- as if it wasn’t as hard to tell what he was thinking beneath such a guarded personality as you made it out to be.

“What?” You ask, slightly exasperated as you sit up straighter. You had still been sitting as if he were cleaning your wounds. “Is that not a valid question? It seems like you want nothing to do with anyone, but then turn around and worry when I’m hurt?”

“How could you do that and still not know why I hesitate to call for you?” Exasperated, you exhale and shut your eyes for a moment, deliberately avoid seeing his reaction to these words.

“...All I mean, is that sometimes it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking -- I feel like I’m bothering you, even if it might be in a situation where I really do need you.”

For a moment, Xiao is blatantly surprised by your reason for not upholding the contract you’d made. It almost gives you the impression that in your spiel, you’ve said something completely idiotic. A gradual flush of embarrassment flares up beneath your skin, but thankfully, you contain yourself before you have the chance to blurt out anything you’d regret.

His lips twist ever so slightly, as if he’s combing through things to respond with in his head. Obviously a bit flustered to hear your reasoning, it’s odd to see him in such a way, albeit while somehow remaining so uniquely him

“You… really are incomprehensible.”

Turning his head to shield his expression, he discards the cloth by tossing it in a nearby basket and stands. Your eyes follow him up until his own turn back towards you, golden irises glinting with a sort of hesitant concentration. You blink.

“If you trust me enough to enter a contract where i very well might decide between your life and death, do well and also trust me as someone who doesn’t break their promises.” Xiao’s brows fold delicately, as if mulling over the words coming out of hisin real time. “___, I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

Your heartbeat briefly stutters, lips opening and closing as if to say something even when no thoughts are formed. Eyes trailing back down to your hands, you let out a small sigh. Before you can say anything, though, a gloved hand takes your chin and gently guides your eyes back upwards.

“So don’t hesitate.” His touch is soft as he maintains comfortable eye contact with you despite the straight-forward words. “I won’t allow you to die because of me.”

Blood pumps wildly through your ears as you suck in a breath of apprehension. As hard as you try to break away your gaze, something in his face keeps you anchored even when your chest begins to seize; a face that has been hardened over a millenia of suffering stares back at you with the improper care of a hopeful innocent, as if you are something that is worthwhile in the purest sense.

You swallow, Xiao’s hand’s position above your throat making it painfully obvious to him how caught off guard you are. Though naturally, if this action of yours makes him falter at all, he does so unnoticeably.

“I won’t,” It’s said slowly, as if you can’t comprehend what exactly you’re saying just yet. “You said I don’t lack anything, but in the moments I do--”

Your lips rest parted as anxiety cuts off the last part of your sentence, but Xiao’s patient expression pushes you forward.

“...I trust you to help me.”

Those words echo in his mind for a moment, ricocheting and hitting even the most unfamiliar parts of himself that he’d long buried. Feelings and memories that have since collected cobwebs begin to resurface and remind him of a more simple time he treasures dearly.

Trust.

Xiao’s thumb ghosts over your jaw, slowly wiping across the skin as he’s propelled deeply into thought -- fortunately too much so to notice the rising pigment on your cheeks.

He himself places his trust in people far and few. You might be different, well acquainted to human customs and the world around you, yet those words from you somehow feel just as special as if the roles are reversed. Your honesty and courage to accompany him has always dug at the cavity in his chest, but to hear you voice the metaphorical fruit of your labour so clearly is an entirely different sense.

All this time he’d blindly protected you, warned you about monsters lurking in the darkness, he’d fallen too far to even realise that you were beginning to change him. He no longer ate alone, nor did he adventure or sleep as he once did -- you had stuck onto him like a stubborn thorn despite, in your words, tending to feel as if you were bothering him. Regardless, he had somehow still earned your valuable companionship, and with it, commendable words that he could accept from you alone.

But there were times where he despised feeling such a way. He battled over the reasons he felt so inflicted when it was you who was injured, or you who chose to stick by him even after he tried so desperately to push you away. It was frustrating, dealing with a gentle care so foreign. Once he was used to your considerate nature, though, it became a different story.

Seeing you hurt began to shift from an expectable casualty to a blow to his own chest.

“...Xiao,” Your voice is hesitantly quiet, and suddenly, his eyes come back into focus. You’re staring at him with hesitant concern, setting his heart abuzz. “Are you okay?”

It’s when you reach up to wrap your hand around his that his mind finally completes his thought.

I love her.

As an Adeptus, he’s lived thousands of lives and outlived many more, and has taken the role of slaughterer before protector throughout many of them. In a way, the latter ways of his previous life have been ingrained him, regardless of those he manages to save in the more current centuries.

He imagines the figures of the spirits of those he’d wronged watching him in this moment, screaming a sound of contempt that he would never hear. They’re right to do so. They have no reason to pray for his happiness, much like he has little reason to pray for forgiveness.

Yet looking down at you, for the first time in a long time, none of that seems to matter.

With little thought, he grips your hand a bit tighter before letting go, his own hand travelling the length of your jaw to bring himself down to you. You remain completely still as he places a gentle kiss above your brow bone, breath hitching.

“I’m okay.” He reassures you quietly, resting there for a moment and sighing a small gust of air onto your skin. You mumble his name softly, hand reaching out to grab a hold of his shirt. The thin layer between your skin and his sends a sudden shiver down his spine, but regardless, he hums in response.

Your voice comes out in a whisper. “Are you sure?”

He nods, for the first time completely certain.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.5

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

Summary: someone please give Nicole a break for the love of Miranda. And there be smut y'all

---

Seeing Cassandra's softer side made something flutter within Nicole's chest. The brunette was a sadist through and through. Witness to that fact was the array of torture devices that littered the dungeons. Not to mention the prisoners she frequently killed, only to haul them on the autopsy tables in her study to be examined, chopped and sectioned by the both of them.

But there was an uncharacteristic sort of gentleness in the way their lips slid against each other, sharp teeth occasionally biting down on Nicole's lower lip but never enough to draw blood. In the way Cassandra would drag sharp nails against flushed skin, but not go beyond the pleasurable amount of pain. Even the glint in golden eyes when Nicole went over some old notes of hers on more tricky anatomy concepts. Having an exclusive look at this side of Cassandra felt beyond intimate and the thought almost made her miss when the brunette spoke from where she was leaning over a notebook.

"Okay let's just wrap this up, I have plans."

Nicole hummed, dropping the liver she was holding in a freezer bag. Most body parts were already bagged and ready to be picked up by Cynthia and her undercooks, they were just putting into practice some things the brunette was curious about. She dropped the now blood soaked leather gloves in the sink and went to sit by Cassandra, who was scribbling some final notes.

"In that case I'll go enjoy a cup of tea," she sighed. "Tea that I had to skip because someone was eager to start on this early."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by her usual smirk. "I meant plans with you."

Oh? That was new. The brunette laughed at Nicole's wide eyed expression and snapped her notebook shut. She took her sweet time putting it on the shelf with the others and checking the time, pretending not to notice the redhead's inquisitive expression. Then, she lifted Nicole’s chin with a thankfully not covered in blood finger.

"Don't get me wrong I love it here but," she grimaced, "it gets stuffy sometimes. Especially in summer."

Well, that much was true. The undergrounds of the castle were oddly warm, although not downright hot, compared to what one would expect from a castle. Pair that with the annoyingly humid atmosphere and having to wear a leather apron and gloves so as to not completely ruin your outfit and you got the perfect recipe for discomfort. She really ought to ask Cassandra about installing some kind of better ventilation down here.

"Meet me in the attic in about… an hour." She leaned down and their mouths were so close that Nicole could feel icy breath on her lips.

The attic? She's never been to the attic, it was not only off limits for most staff but also dangerous if rumors were to be believed. Not that she had the clarity of mind to voice any concerns when Cassandra finally leaned in to kiss her, complete with a nip on her lower lip that made Nicole’s breath hitch.

---

The fact that Nicole had no idea how to get to the attic could be a slight problem. She had asked Anita, but not only did she not know, she also seemed mortified by the idea. Another maid just gave her vague directions to look for a ladder on the top floor. As if that wasn't like trying to find the needle in a haystack. Or the needle in a giant castle.

She was just wandering around the top floor, praying not to stumble upon anyone who would be less than thrilled to see her there. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips when she heard familiar buzzing and steps coming towards her.

"Oh Cas-" she swallowed her words when she noticed red hair spilling from underneath a black hood.

"Nicole! What are you doing here hmm?" Her inquisitive hum was way too exaggerated the same way her fangs seemed too sharp when she grinned.

"I was just looking for Ca- lady Cassandra. She asked me to meet her in the attic."

Daniela's mouth fell open, almost forming an O shape. Then back to her characteristic giggle, almost as if laughing at a joke only she knew.

"What, you don't know how to get there?"

"...Not really," she sheepishly admitted.

And that was a mistake. Nicole would've preferred to wander the hallways until Cassandra eventually got bored enough of waiting and decided to come see where her glorified lab partner was. But her plan was ruined by Daniela wordlessly grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction she was going in. She even went the extra mile to partially turn into a swarm, which made Nicole's panic skyrocket. She didn't mind bugs. But having hundreds of them fly all around you, accompanied by manic giggling was a whole other thing.

Before she knew it though, Daniela let go of her arm, laughing a little at Nicole's stumbling. She gestured dramatically towards a ladder and said:

"There you go. Say hi to Cassie for me."

"Th- thank you my lady." And with a small bow of the head she grabbed the ladder and started ascending on shaky legs.

"And enjoy your date," she called out, once Nicole was at the top of the stairs.

Blushing, she decided to ignore the comment and start looking for the sister less likely to turn her into fly food.

The attic looked… old. It was obvious that people didn't come here often, although someone probably did clean it regularly as there were no cobwebs nor dirt on any surfaces, aside from some dust. It was full of neatly arranged boxes and crates, their contents as mysterious as the castle's inhabitants. Tentative steps took her across ancient floorboards, navigating old rooms.

"Rah!"

Nicole damn near jumped out of her skin, a string of curses spilling past her lips. "Jesus fucking christ Cassandra!"

The brunette only laughed, hands on her knees and pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"That's what you get for making me wait for so long."

"I didn't even know where the attic entrance was! Good thing one of your sisters came to my rescue." Nicole rolled her eyes at the last word.

Cassandra stopped laughing, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which one?"

"Uh- Danie-"

"Did she hurt you?" Cassandra grabbed her arms, golden eyes looking for any visible injuries.

Nicole just laughed softly, taken off guard by the display of concern. "No, no. Just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."

With an eye roll, Cassandra guided her further into the attic, through more dusty rooms, until they reached a short corridor, light spilling from its other end. The room they entered was relatively small, almost half of it occupied by stacked boxes as if it used to be a storage room like the rest of the attic and nobody bothered to completely clear it out. A few pieces of furniture were also present: a couch with a coffee table in front of it and paintings leaning against a wall to collect dust. This room however had a window, left slightly ajar, that allowed you to see the mountains stretching on the horizon, crowned by the beautiful orange hues of dusk.

Nicole moved to the glass to take in the view, mouth almost hanging open, when an ungodly screech from outside made her backpedal straight into Cassandra.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, eyes widening at the sight of flying creatures circling the towers.

"Mother's flying guard dogs."

"They sound the same way I'd imagine the souls of the damned do." Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the ghoulish creatures, almost as if keeping eye contact would dissuade them from attacking.

Cassandra just shrugged. "Wouldn't be too far off. Also here." She sat on the couch, gesturing towards a cup.

Nicole went to sit by her side, grabbing the mystery cup. She frowned slightly when the steam reached her nose, bringing with it a pleasant minty and honey aroma.

"Tea?"

"Since you were so disheartened about having to skip it earlier," Cassandra averted her eyes, seemingly finding the curtains very interesting.

After a long sip, she let out a content sigh. The warmth was more than welcomed, despite the weather. She set the cup back on the table and turned her attention on the brunette, now fidgeting with the corner of a pillow.

"Thank you," Nicole said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Cassandra smiled and turned around, locking their lips in a kiss that at first mimicked her gentleness, but soon turned hungry when dainty hands made their way to the brunette's nape, pulling her closer. She shifted them both, pushing Nicole down on the pillows littering the couch, until she was laying on top of her, legs on each side of her waist. Her focus was on leaving a trail of nips and kisses down Nicole's neck when the redhead jumped and barely stifled a yelp at another screech from outside.

"Ugh what the fuck is today, scare me out of my mind day?"

"How are you scared of these but countless dead bodies don't phase you?" Cassandra laughed, sound muffled by her position with her mouth against Nicole's neck.

"I used to work on corpses, not on ugly gargoyles that could chew my face off!" She gestured wildly at the window and the few creatures visible outside.

"You what?"

"You...didn't know?" Nicole couldn't help a giggle at Cassandra's confused expression.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought your mother told you already. Or your sisters," Nicole shrugged.

"They knew?!" And, after something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh I'm gonna kick both their asses."

Nicole couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, placing her hands on Cassandra's cheeks and, with a pout for dramatic effect, "Right now?"

As much as the sight was both funny and endearing, the warmth starting to pool at her core was making her beyond impatient.

The indignation in golden eyes was replaced by an all too familiar glint and black painted lips went back to their work on Nicole's neck. Sharp fangs pierced the skin there, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and a whine. After licking every last bit of it, Cassandra's lips moved to the collarbones and lower, hands slowly starting to undo the buttons of Nicole's pesky uniform that was in the way.

When both the button up and the skirt were discarded on the floor Nicole tangled her fingers through black hair and pulled Cassandra in for a kiss. Her free hand went to the back of the dress, pulling down the zipper and guiding it off of the brunette's shoulders. Once both of them were left only in undergarments, Nicole pulled back to look up at the brunette.

"If I knew I was supposed to dress up I would've asked the chambermaid if there's anything fancy in the uniform stash," she said, taking in the beautifully intricate lace of Cassandra's matching bra and underwear, complete with a giggle at her awful joking.

The brunette only raised an eyebrow. "Mhm I can take care of that. Not like you'll need these for long though." Her hands reached under Nicole's back to unclasp her bra and in mere moments that too was on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Then Cassandra bent down to crash their lips together, tongue slipping past Nicole's lips when a wandering hand elicited a gasp from her.

Cassandra was by no means a patient person. Quite the opposite actually. But teasingly dragging her nails across sensitive skin only to feel the girl under her squirm and whine when her hand just won't go where she needed it made waiting all the more sweet. Slender fingers started to toy with the edges of Nicole's underwear. After a groan against her lips and an impatient tug of hair, Cassandra finally gave in, slipping two fingers inside her. She felt Nicole arch into her, a broken moan escaping past her lips when she broke the kiss to let her head fall back into the cushions. Cassandra took that as an opportunity to kiss the length of her neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at a spot, enjoying every gasp and moan she drew out of the redhead.

With Cassandra's rough pace it didn't take long before Nicole was clenching her thighs around her hand. Cassandra kissed her, swallowing her moan as she came.

The small room in the attic, Cassandra's drawing room she would later find out, was the perfect secluded spot. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other. First evening of many.

[yandere-daydreams]

half-spider half-human yandere with a darling who has arachnophobia

I think I’ve just been in a Yandere!Monster mood this week - I don’t know how else to explain what I’ve been posting, recently. Can you blame me, though? They’re so easy to run from, so easy to be afraid of… It’s only natural that they make good Yanderes.

Title: Arachnophobia.

TW: Spiders, Dehumanization, Mentions of Injury, and Mentions of Death. 

~

It’d always been the legs, for you.

You weren’t squeamish. If it hadn’t been for the legs, you wouldn’t mind spiders at all. The uncharacteristic fuzz that coated their bodies, those unblinking eyes that were too big and too small at the same time, their distorted proportions and awful fangs and general wrongness, you could take all of that, even if you didn’t care for it. Their legs were the only thing that got to you, the only thing that made you fear the tiny, harmless creatures beyond all reason. You weren’t blind, you knew there were much worse things to be scared of, and yet, nothing sent a chill up your spine like the thought of an insect no bigger than your thumb crawling up the back of your leg or finding its way into your hair, its steps so light and silent, you wouldn’t know its there, not until it’s already made its fangs at home under your skin. It’s irrational, or, it was irrational, at least. It used to be.

Ikto wasn’t harmless. You didn’t have to tell yourself not to be afraid of him.

If anything, you should be more afraid than you’ve ever been. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given you a reason to be.

You cried out as you collapsed, the noise somewhere between a defeated sigh and a desperate scream, too quiet to do you any good but too loud to go unnoticed in the stillness of the darkened forest. It’d been childish to go into the woods alone, it’d been stupid, and you’d known that when you came up with the idea. Still, you hadn’t thought it’d been stupid enough to get you killed. The legends told of a creature who spun web like rope, who could string up a group of hunters in translucent silk so quickly, they wouldn’t have time to notice they were being trapped, not before it was too late to get away. You weren’t a hunter, though, and you didn’t mean him any harm. You’d told yourself that a glimpse would be enough for you to overcome your fear, all you needed to do was look at him, and you’d never think twice about the spiders in your garden or the dark corners of your home again. But, you’d tripped, made a mistake, stepped on the wrong branch at the wrong time and earned a throbbing ankle and the attention of a monster for your efforts. It was so hard to navigate through cobwebs when you were running. It was so hard to navigate at all when you were crying.

And, as you collapsed to the dirt, weak sobs still racking over your chest as pain shot from your heel to your knee like hot trails of pure fire, you began to wish he’d just killed you when you interrupted his meal. That would’ve been kinder than letting you think you might’ve had a chance.

After a moment, you forced yourself to grit your teeth, moving to push yourself up, but it was already a moment too late. Without warning, without sound, something tapered and unyielding dug into the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you flat against the ground and giving you a minute to fight back, only pulling away then you failed to struggle against its strength. You already knew what it was, what it had to be, but you still found yourself holding back a gasp as you were unceremoniously dragged onto your back, clenching your eyes shut in an effort to delay the inevitable. It was an exercise in futility, but you didn’t open them again.

Not until something soft and familiar brushed against your cheek, and your entire body jerked up involuntarily. You had to fight not to scream, the awareness of just how dead you were making the pangs of your injury pale, in comparison.

If Ikto had any intention of making your slaughter swift, though, you couldn’t tell. He simply towered above you, watching with four pairs of eyes as you scrambled back, using what was less of your courage to put an arm’s length of distance between you and your hunter. You had to wonder why you’d ever thought you stood a chance against him. Standing, you would’ve only come to his waist, to the junction where his grey, thick flesh faded into a black exoskeleton, so sleek and so impenetrable, you knew the tiny dagger you’d brought for your protection would be useless before it was even in your hand. You could barely see his face, but you didn’t have to. Everything, from the mocking tilt of his head to the way his shoulders tensed and bounced upward in a stifled laugh, made his amusement clear. His tone did little to aid your blossoming humiliation, the heavy drawl only making you bow your head, your fear nearly overpowered by misplaced embarrassment. “I thought you’d be faster, human.”

You bit the side of your tongue, but you were speaking before you could stop yourself. More to quell your own nerves than to get on his. “I thought you’d be a better hunter, beast.”

That earned a breath of a chuckle, so airy and so dry, you might’ve missed it if he had anything to compete with. Unfortunately, no animals skittered from tree to tree to distract you, no birds sang to divert your attention. You couldn’t blame the woodland creatures for making themselves scarce. You’d avoid Ikto too, if you had a choice. “Awfully brave for someone who just stumbled into my web,” He started, bringing a hand - a human hand, thankfully - up to his chest, pouting in an exaggerated show of his offense. Despite his size, he moved soundlessly, stepping between dead leaves and over obstacles in a slow, seamless circle around you as he continued. Evaluating you, only speaking to keep himself entertained. “I was having such a nice night, too. No heroes come to slay me, no champions shouting to face me to prove their worth, no interruptions. Just me and my prey.” This time, you got a sigh. A shake of his head. A step too close, a spindly leg coming just a breath too near, leaving you shaking and digging your nails into the dirt, trembling as he looked on. “And then you came along and ruined it.”

“I’m lost.” The lie was spat hastily, forced out too quickly to be believable. This time, when he edged closer, you brought your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself defensively. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t want to be here, I’m just… I can’t find my way home. I don’t know what to do. If you let me go--”

“If I let you go, you’ll get stuck in one of my webs and I’ll find you weeks later, starved and dehydrated and begging for my help.” He paused, pursing his lips, settling in front of you. When he crouched, his knees bending into jagged points and his arachnid stomach nearly brushing against the ground, you went tense, but you didn’t dare to move. You didn’t dare to look at him. You didn’t dare to think, not when it felt like he was prying into your mind a little more with every second he spent staring you down. “It might be nice. I’ve never heard someone plead for my help rather than my mercy. I try not to play with my food, but I wasn’t expecting something so small and so tempting to stumble into my territory. Certainly not something with the nerve to expect me to believe such a boring excuse.” A growl seemed to edge its way into his voice, absent of the primal reverberation it should’ve contained, full of something manufactured, painfully learned. You might’ve felt sorry for him, if he hadn’t been close enough for you to see the dozens of harsh, pointed teeth that prevented him from bridging the gap. “Are you that eager to get this over with, human? Do you want to die?”

You didn’t hesitate, shaking your head furiously as his smile returned. Unconsciously, your fingers twitched, ready to search the satchel strapped to your side for any weapon you could find, but in the blink of an eye, the burlap sack was speared through, flicked to the side with little more than a tear of fabric and the rattle of its content. “Please, I didn’t mean to--”

“I’ll compromise.” Again, he cut you off, standing to his full height, taking your wrist as he did so and dragging you to your feet, his grip not loosening when you winced, attempting to favor the foot that wasn’t trying to detach itself from your body. “I won’t kill you. I’ll take you back to my den, make sure you’re attended to, but you have to come with me willingly. Say you’ll behave, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to limp your way into the loving jaws of the nearest wolf.”

You didn’t respond, but you flinched, and that was enough of an answer for Ikto. With a sharp, sudden pull, you were off of your feet entirely, dragged against him and held there with one arm, his free hand pressing against the back of your head, encouraging you to lean into him, to be affectionate. You wanted to push yourself away, to tell him you didn’t need his pity, that you’d rather take your chances with the most rabid of dogs than with try your luck with him, but your ankle pulsed and your body ached and you needed his help more than you wanted not to. And when Ikto began to walk, when you caught a glimpse of a long, inhumane leg moving easily over the uneven terrain, you weren’t sure if you could even move.

You weren’t sure if running was an option, not if he’d be the one chasing you.

“It gets lonely, occasionally,” He admitted, his voice so soft, you almost didn’t hear him. You almost wished you hadn’t been listening, by the time he thought to go on.

“And I’ve always liked the idea of keeping a pet.”

[nygmobblepot-trash]

It was odd for Riddler to get visitors. He wasn't exactly popular with anyone. Oswald would show up when he wanted something and was desperate which was more often than you would hope for from Gotham's mayor/king/whatever he was calling himself these days. Gordon would show up with arrest warrants. The last group would be considered random. They would show up when Riddler got bored and let someone else take over so he could save the puzzle later on.

Riddler hadn't lost control recently... at least he thought he hadn't. He hadn't done anything since being released and Oswald doesn't believe in having to knock. So why at 10:46 pm was someone knocking at his door?

Instead of playing the guessing game, Riddler decided to throw the door open and deal with whatever or whomever was making all that noise behind it. Except when it swung open he saw no one.

That's odd.

Another mental break down perhaps?

Whatever.

He'd deal with it later and shut the door. He didn't get very far till he heard the knocking again.

Ignore it. It will stop eventually. Just distract yourself.

He looked around the room to find something fitting for the task. Which was a old torn up book hidden under the couch. He brushed off the cobwebs and collapsed on the couch.

The knocking persisted.

Riddler tried to focus on the words with all his heart but the pounding wouldn't stop.

He had enough. Please don't be Ghost Oswald, he thought as he threw open the door for a second time.

Still nothing.

He went to close the door for the second time when he felt something grab onto his arm in order to prevent the action.

Riddler quickly looked down and everything clicked into place.

He wasn't expecting a child. "Oh it's just you, Martin." He sighed happy he didn't accidentally drug himself. The calm quickly disappeared when he repeatedly his words, "Oh it's you! What are you doing here?"

Martin must have already assumed that question was going to be asked because he only had to flip to a page in his notebook and show it to the annoyed Riddler.

"Oswald dropped me off." Ed read aloud with a frown. "I doubt it. He would never leave you in my care without an hour lecture. As if I need a lecture on how to keep a child alive."

Martin gave Riddler an, 'Are you sure about that?' look.

"I forgot to feed you one time! I've gone days without eating and no one throws a fit. You go without dinner one time and I never hear the end of it!" Riddler yells as he retreats back into Ed's apartment.

Martin follows and closes the door behind him.

Riddler quickly turned around. "Oh no you don't. Go back to Oswald. I know you're lying about him driving you here."

Martin shakes his head no.

Riddler aggressively digs into his pockets to look for his phone but finds nothing. "That's odd... I had it in here an hour ago." Riddler scans the room and sighs when he immediately doesn't find it. "Once I find my phone you're gone, Buddy."

Martin shrugged and made his way into the kitchen as he was hungry. PB&J sounded real good. He had managed to find all the supplies while Riddler threw stuff around the apartment. The more the man looked the angrier he got. Now all the boy needed was a knife to put the jelly and peanut butter on his bread. He found one fairly quickly. What was even quicker was Riddler grabbing the knife away from him. He was paying attention?

"You cut yourself and i'll get blamed." The green man announced.

Martin expected to hear the knife go back into the drawer, but it didn't. Instead Riddler with a roll of his eyes quickly smeared the toppings onto the bread. When he was done he tossed the knife into the sink with a loud clank and went back to look for his phone without another word.

Martin quietly ate his sandwhich and when he was done put the dirty dish into the sink after washing it off. Like Oswald said, 'no one likes a pig.'

The boy took this opportunity to clear out any unusable pages from his notebook. He didn't see certain responses being used soon, if ever again.

"I haven't left all day. It should be here." Riddler mumbled from under the couch he retrieved the book from. After throughly checking the couch Riddler turned to the boy. "Shouldn't you be... I don't know... in bed?"

Martin shrugged knowing damn well the answer.

"Bed." Riddler commanded.

So the boy did as told... well almost. The man yelled, "not my bed," as the child climbed into his bed ignoring him.

"I'm going to kill Oswald." Riddler promised under his breath.

The boy quickly wrote in his note book and turned it to the man when he was finished.

"I don't care if Oswald reads to you. I'm not Oswald." Riddler answered coldly.

The boy scribbled down more.

"I do have great stories! Way better than any of Oswald's." Riddler hissed.

So Riddler lost again and told the boy a story. But he boy refused to shut his annoying little eyes. So he said another one, which turned into another one. Riddler wouldn't admit that the stories were infact true and about himself and Oswald.

After the 3rd story Riddler stood up. "You said he reads you one story and I have given you three. It isn't my fault you're still up, so go to sleep."

Martin quickly wrote in his notebook and threw it at the Riddler as he was leaving.

Riddler quickly bit his lip to avoid yelling at the boy and picked up to see what the runt wanted now. "...you want to know what my parents are like?" Riddler was about to tell him no when he read the next sentence, "I'll go to bed and never bother you again, I promise." He ripped the note out of the note book and placed it his pocket. "This is legal now." He sighed and sat back down.

Riddler opened his mouth to answer the boy's request but the words seemed to leave his lips.

You technically don't have parents. A voice not belonging the Riddler echoed in his head.

"Shut up." Riddler hissed through clenched teeth.

For someone who thinks he's the best of me is terrible at taking care of kids. This one doesn't even speak and you're losing it.

A pain started pulsing behind his eyes.

As Riddler grimaced in pain the boy stuck another note in front of his eyes. It read, "Is it Ed?"

Hey kid.

"Please be quiet." Riddler whisper as he put his head into his hands.

Martin upset at what he seemed to cause quickly ran out of the room. Riddler don't notice this at all. He hadn't known how much time had passed even he managed to look farther up the bed where Martin was last seen. The issue was the boy wasn't there anymore. In his place were a couple of pills and a note, "I'm sorry I bothered you, Mr. Riddler. My dad seemed more happy when you're around. I came here to figure out why Oswald and you don't get along. I even left a note for Oswald hinting you took me. I wanted him to show up and see that you do take good care of me. It's my fault that you don't see each other anymore. I refused to eat that day and you still took the blame. I'm going back to Oswald's to explain what I did. As an apology I'll give you a riddle, 'I can be a salty treat for some, and a breath stealer for others. What am I?' -Love Martin."

Riddler quickly looked at the time on his watch, it read, 1:07 am. "Oh dear." Riddler and Ed said in a worried tone.

Riddler wasted no time finding the peanut butter in a cabinet. Please don't be ruined and please be what I hope you are, he though.

Ed on the other hand was trying to calculate all the possible routes the boy could be taking.

Riddler spun the lid off and shouted, "Yes!" as he quickly unwrapped the napkin that was in the jar. It was his phone which he may need later. It was the nuclear option.

Then suddenly the front door swung open and crashed into the wall harder than it ever had.

Shit. Riddler though as he hit the floor to avoid being seen.

"EDWARD DUMBASS NYGMA." An angry mother penguin shouted louder than should be possible.

'What did I do?!' Riddler heard Ed scream in terror.

'We have to avoid him at all costs, when he's like this he won't listen to a word we say.' Riddler told Ed.

The pair listened as Oswald stomped around the apartment. Once they could hear him in the guest bedroom he bolted to Ed's room. Going out the front door would get them spotted immediately.

Riddler could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He has never moved this fast and quietly in his life, including all the other personalities. He threw open the window and leaped out of it. He fell about 6 feet before he was able to stop his fall by grabbing onto the fire escape ladder. The force made the ladder extend closer to the ground. Once it stopped a few feet above the ground Riddler let go and landed in the snow.

He didn't feel the coldness nor acknowledged it was even winter in Gotham as a voice from above him dripping with hate, "YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME."

'There's no way he'll come down this way. Just go.' Ed commanded.

So Riddler did what Ed said for the first time in his existence. His mind was a blur, but that was okay because Ed was giving him directions. It wasn't long until he spotted the boy walking under the street lights on a particularly dangerous street.

"Hey! Kid wait!" Riddler yelled very out of breath. When the boy stopped and turned Riddler finally noticed how tired he was.

He was about to collapse when adrenaline shot back up his body.

"I TOLD YOU."

Riddler's eyes widden as he turned to see Oswald quite a bit off into the distance hobbling towards them. "...how?" The three questioned together.

He was running out of time so Riddler whipped back to the boy to say what he wanted to say. Unfortunately Oswald was faster and had a gun pointed directly at him.

'And you're the bad parent?" Ed questioned.

Martin quickly stood in front of Riddler to his surprise. He frantically waved his arms around and shook his head. All three men noticed the tears in his eyes.

"Martin I want you to step to the side, put your hands over your ears, and face away with your eyes closed. Do. Not. Make. Me. Ask. Again." Oswald said with a reassuring yet offsetting tone.

Martin stood his ground.

"Oswald I need to show you something, you're only making the situation worse." Riddler pleaded.

"You won't ever stop crossing the line will you? Every single time I let you live you make sure I regret it. Well not this time, old friend."

'Well we're dead.' Ed sighed.

Martin dropped to his knees with his hands together, no doubt pleading for Riddler's life.

Oswald's moved his finger to the trigger. Since he was aiming for Nygma's head, Martin wouldn't get hit. "Haven't I taught you anything? Don't be like me. Don't let anyone stab you in the back ever. I wouldn't be doing what I preach if I don't do this."

Riddler slowly moved his hand to his pocket.

'Stop you idiot' Ed screeched.

Riddler grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and held it above his head. "He thinks we aren't..." Riddler didn't know the right words, many of them made his stomach flip. "you know... a team anymore, because of him. He blames himself, Os."

"But it isn't his fault." Oswald's finger slowly backed off from the trigger. "Let me see. I doubt this will save you."

Riddler nodded and handed the note back to Martin. The boy whiped away some tears before running to Oswald.

Oswald held the note in the air under the street lamp to read the pencil words.

Ed, Riddler, and Martin watched with baited breath to see how Oswald would react.

Paying attention to microfacial expressions wasn't Ed or even Riddler's strong suit, but this time they caught everything. How Oswald bit him bottom lip as tears brimmed in his eyes. How he quickly turned his head away and blinked those tears away to avoid Martin seeing them. Ed and Riddler watched as he shook silently. Then he took a sharp breath and blew it out. "It was never your fault and it never will be. Edward is an idiot-. No we are, grown ups are. I'm sorry you had to see us flight. I promise to be better and I think me and him going our separate ways will ensure that."

Martin shook his head.

'Wow look at Oswald Cobblepot being the adult. I guess you got what you wanted.' Ed's voice still echoed in Riddler's head, thankfully without the migrain.

"You're wrong, that's not what I want." Riddler said out loud to his and Ed's surprise.

"What the hell-" Oswald started to yell again but Riddler cut him off.

"I don't think we should go out separate ways. It would be a shame if Gotham's best duo faded into nothingness. There is still greatness for us. Our story isn't done yet, Ozzie." Riddler closed the gap inbetween him and Oswald. "I'm sorry... for some of the things I did. Sometimes you deserved it though."

'Please shut up.' Ed begged.

It was Riddler's turn to bite his lip. He then took and deep breath and through clenched teeth spoke, "The truth is..." Riddler felt his face go warm and suddenly realized how terribly cold it was. "I'm happier when... you're...around...too."

Oswald covered his laugh with a cough. Ed did not follow that courtesy. 'I knew it!'

"Oh God damn it." Oswald sighed. "You're going to make me regret this, aren't you?"

"You know me so well." Riddler answered with a coy smile.

"Holy shit it is fucking cold. Can we go inside now before I actually turn into a penguin? And you..." Oswald pointed at Riddler with a smirk. "Shouldn't you hate the cold."

"Nope." Riddler shrugged as he tossed his suit jacket onto a shivering Martin. "It reminds me how I saved your sorry ass."

[crown-anon]

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

:)

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

[dameronology]

one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter eight

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2066

On the third day in the infirmary, your life had become hell. It had begun to feel like a prison cell. The walls seemed to draw in more tightly each day.

It would be two weeks before your leg would heal enough to try to walk, according to Hange. Until then, you were stuck in bed with Jean as your errand boy. Levi had made an appearance just the day before to inform you that he felt your affliction was punishment enough, but to "watch your step." His choice of words made you want to laugh, but you decided not to start any fights with the Captain when you couldn't even get out of bed.

Eren hadn't been back. It almost felt like a betrayal. You wished privately that things could've just stayed how they were; you almost hated him for trying to go further. He was fun, and a good distraction from the hell you lived each day. It was unfair.

Jean was gone to grab your lunch, leaving you to your thoughts. Your mind wasn't the happiest place in the world presently, and you hoped it wouldn't take him much longer. You were lucky to have a friend like Jean, you thought, watching water drip slowly from a leak in the ceiling. If not for him, would your life be laying here in silence for weeks? You ran your hands through your hair.

The door opened, but instead of Jean, you saw Levi.

"This is the third day in a row. Are you making it a habit?" you asked as he stood leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest. He was in a long-sleeve grey shirt and slacks. While it was casual, it looked much more presentable than your nightgown.

"I'm just seeing how you're doing. Hange wanted me to ask if you needed anything," he said flatly. You wondered if he ever said anything with any emotion in his voice. The monotone was irritating.

You looked around to see if there was anything you or Jean had forgotten. "I don't think so. Jean has been taking pretty good care of me," you told him. He came towards you, long strides that would've felt threatening if there was any hint of anger in his eyes. He reached out next to you and closed his hand around your glass. It was empty.

"Has he?" he asked, shaking the glass as if you couldn't see that it was dry. "I'll go get you some water. Fluids are important for healing, you know." He turned on his heel and left the room for a few moments before returning. Instead of placing the glass on your bedside table, he made you take it in your hand. "Drink. You need to stay healthy. Is Jean bringing your lunch?"

You nodded, lifting the glass to your lips. You expected him to leave then, but he took a seat in the chair next to your bed instead. You looked at him expectantly, but he showed no signs of speaking. He crossed one leg over the other so that his ankle rested on his knee and leaned back a bit, taking a breath. "Do you need something else?" you asked, setting your water down and bringing your hands to rest on your stomach.

"I am hardly ever wrong, so don't expect this often," he started, crossing his arms. "Hange has been set on the idea that I should apologize to you. I'm not doing that, but I will say one thing. You were not wrong to risk your life for your friend. Regardless of your talent as a soldier, I cannot penalize you for that. Though it's been a long time, I've done the same. And if they were still here, I would continue to do so."

Your eyes must have been tricking you, you thought, because for a moment you could've sworn his features looked soft. His face hardened back up in a split second, though, as the door creaked open and Jean entered with your plate. He rose from his seat and started out.

"Levi," you called to him, causing him to stop. He turned his head just barely over his shoulder, acknowledging you. Your breath caught in your throat for a second, unsure of what to say, but you quickly decided on something simple. "Thank you," you said.

For a moment, as he turned back and left, you thought you saw the beginnings of a smile.

---

The days continued like this for what felt like forever. Eren had not come back. Levi had not stopped in. It was just you and Jean, talking the days away, playing card games and gossiping. You finally convinced him after a week to stop sleeping in that god awful wooden chair, so your nights were now spent alone. You didn't sleep much, listening to the water drip or counting cobwebs when you could catch a smidgen of moonlight. Levi's words had stuck in your head with no sign of leaving for the past ten days. It was strange to see him so vulnerable. It almost made him seem human.

It was one of the lonely nights now, and hopefully the last. Your leg stopped aching a while ago from being stuck in the sling, but you were excited to be rid of it. The only time you were able to take it down is when Jean physically carried you to the bathroom as if you weren't capable of limping. You moved around as much as you could, trying to get comfortable. It was nearly impossible. You started to count the cobwebs: one in the top left corner, two on the left of your bed, three above the door. That's when it hit you.

"Fuck me," you groaned aloud, shifting uncomfortably. There was a sharp ache in your bladder, and Jean wasn't there to carry you to the bathroom against your will. You mentally cursed yourself for telling him to go sleep in his bed. You sat up, trying to unstrap the sling as gently as possible without your leg slamming down onto the bed. You failed, wincing as your foot made contact with the bed frame. You turned to the side, your right foot on the floor, and lifted your left leg slowly until it found its place next to your right. It took all the strength you had just to lift yourself from the bed. You immediately had to catch yourself on the bedside table -- two weeks of bedrest had done you no favors. You managed to hop your way to the door, thanking god your other leg didn't suffer any injuries.

You felt a small sense of pride as you exited the room on your own. Your left hand was pressed against the wall of the hallway as hopped along, panting as if you were running a marathon. Beads of sweat began to form on your forehead. "Fuck," you muttered as the hallway came to an end, feeding into an open space lined with infirmary rooms and a bathroom to the far left.

Your right leg was practically on fire. You stood with your hand against the wall for a moment more before, despite your better judgement, you hopped out into the open towards the bathroom. You made it a few steps, right foot hitting the floor so loudly it almost sounded like a titan was storming through the infirmary, before you hit the floor. "Shit," you winced, rubbing your leg with weak arms. You tried to push yourself back up to stand, but the closer you got, the more it hurt when your ass hit the floor. You gave up, bringing your hands atop your head -- partly to rest them and partly to pull the hair bordering your forehead. 'Should I start yelling for help?,' you thought, quickly deciding against it. Avoiding embarrassment is typically the best option in these situations. You decided to just drag yourself along the floor; the bathroom wasn't too far.

You placed your hands on either side of your body and tried to push yourself forward. The unfinished wood didn't make for the easiest slide, but you figured you'd make it there eventually. After five minutes passed and you'd made only five feet of progress, you decided to rest again.

"Is there a reason you're sitting in the floor?" you heard Levi's voice behind you. You turned your head towards him, an apologetic grin on your face.

"I had to go to the bathroom. Didn't think it would be this difficult. You think you could help me?" you asked him defeatedly. "Usually Jean carries me, but I made him start sleeping in his own bed. Bad decision on my part."

He started towards you, holding out his hand. You grabbed it and allowed him to pull you up as he tossed your arm around his shoulder. He wrapped his around your waist. He looked at you, his eyebrow slightly raised. "You would think Eren would have half a mind to come stay with you. You shouldn't be alone all night without a way to get anywhere," he told you, taking the first step forward and practically dragging you along.

"Eren and I are no longer a going concern, you'll be happy to know," you said, face drawn up in pain from your leg.

He shook his head, taking another step. "I was angry because the two of you broke the rules, not because you were involved with him. Is this hurting you?" he asked, turning his head towards you. You looked back at him, your faces a bit too close for comfort. Was that concern in his eyes?

"Uh, yeah, actually," you forced out. "Getting here from my infirmary room was pretty exhausting."

"Here, I'll carry you."

"That won't be necessary."

"Don't argue, just let me."

"No, thank you."

You bickered back and forth like this for a minute before he said your name, a tinge of anger in his tone. "Let me carry you," he said, his slate grey eyes burning holes in yours.

"First name basis, are we?" you teased, conceding. He placed one arm under your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you quickly. "Huh, Jean usually struggles and wheezes a little bit." You folded your arms across your chest and tried to avoid looking directly up at him. This, in your opinion, was the definition of humiliating. If Jean had the pleasure of seeing this, he'd have comedy material for weeks.

"You've seemed to think we are, for some reason," he commented, adjusting the arm under your legs. "On a first name basis, I mean. And Jean struggles because he's a crybaby. Or he's just making fun of you, one of the two."

"I just like to get under your skin. You're usually an asshole, you know."

"I know." He stopped at the bathroom door, setting you down gently. "Are you going to be able to make it in there?" he asked, raising his eyebrow just barely. You've identified a new face for Levi: concern.

"I'll be fine. And take a few steps away or something, I don't want you to hear anything. Don't be weird," you said, opening the door. He shook his head and took a few steps back.

Having someone carry you back from the bathroom was admittedly nice. You spotted all the places where you had to stop and catch your breath. You and Levi continued your idle conversation on the way back; you had to admit, you didn't hate him nearly as much as you did the day of your injury. You didn't particularly like him, but he wasn't the worst person in the world. The two of you entered your room, and he laid you down gently. He strapped your leg back up with the care of a nurse and tossed a blanket atop your body. "Go to sleep. Hange wants you to start walking tomorrow," he commanded.

"Yes, Captain," you saluted jokingly, then pulled the blanket around until you were comfortable. You watched him take a step back before sitting down in the wooden chair, leaning back. "What are you doing?"

"I told you someone should be here with you. Go to sleep," he ordered, resting his hands on his stomach.

You nodded, closing your eyes. For the first time in a while, you fell asleep with ease.