#on the other: i never used it when i brought it

[gojoidyll]

+18, smut, mdni, f!reader, etc.

pt 1

You weren’t used to the attention that John was giving you. Your past partners never caring or giving a damn. So to feel just how much careful attention he is giving your weeping pussy is making your core throb and ache. And when he started to pull his fingers out, it made you whine embarrassingly loud.

The sound made him chuckle as he got up and pulled you along.

“Where- where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

That was another thing that made you almost lose your footing. You were never important enough for a bed. The hard floor or the lumpy, uncomfortable couch was all your dates ever brought you to. In your mind, however, you wouldn’t have minded John’s couch as it was more comfortable than the others you had the displeasure of sitting on.

“Are you sure? What about the mess?”

You couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled as he ushered you into his room, his foot kicking the door closed as his hands gently worked on your pants, helping you shrug them off along with your panties.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his features. And when you felt your clothing start to pool at your feet, you found that you were only dressed in your shirt and bra. The cool air made your thighs clench together.

“If I’m going to fuck ya, sweet girl, then it’s going to be in my bed. But before that…,” his voice trailed off as he helped you out of your shirt and unclipped your bra, the articles of clothing joining your jeans and panties, “I said I was going to have you sit on my face next.”

Without getting undressed himself, he pulled you along towards his bed. His hand gently tugging you forward when he sat down on the edge of, you now wedged between his thighs as he rested his hands on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he kissed your stomach. The feeling of him peppering you with kisses made you squirm.

“Well?”

“H- huh?”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, but didn’t dare make fun of you for it, “though I said where I wanted you to sit, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He leaned back, pushed himself to where he was laying face down whilst pulling you with. Your chest pressed hard against his as he let one of his hands trail and gently squeeze at the fat of your ass.

A part of you always wanted to try, but with your past partners hating the idea of giving you oral while also giving you a clear display of disgust, you sort of dropped the idea entirely.

But John is offering, isn’t he?

He isn’t the type of man to do something he doesn’t want to after all.

“Only if… you really want to,” you manage to say.

“That’s what I am asking you. Do you want to?”

You found yourself gripping at the front of his shirt, the way his fingers worked you open was still imprinted in your cunt, you really want to feel his tongue too.

“Yes, please.”

The moment the words left your mouth, he had you sit up so you were straddling his waist. You tried not to whine out too much when your wet cunt pressed down against his hardening bulge, and he didn’t give you enough time to feel him as he already got a strong hold of your hips again and gently dragging you up.

“You’re so nervous.”

You didn’t know where to put your hands as your bare pussy hovered just over his mouth. None of your previous partners ever really looked to hard at your slick, but John made a point to just analyze all of you.

“I- I can’t help it, I never did something like this before.”

He chuckled softly, his breath gently hitting your cunt making you squirm in his hold, “then I best ruin you for everyone else, huh?”

Not giving you any time to give back a retort, he planted you down, his grip strong as he easily held you in place as his tongue licked a long stripe between your folds. The sudden contact made you squeal as started to lap at you, his tongue not missing a single inch even as he toys with your fluttering hole. The tip of his tongue gently prodding before delving in.

The heat and feeling of his tongue was way different, and even better as he let one of his hands let go of your waist to trail downwards.

Your moans and gasps filled up the quiet bedroom accompanied by the wet sounds your pussy made against his tongue and fingers.

And you think between each flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers that he was right.

He was ruining you for everyone else… that is, if you even want anyone else after this.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return?

Hearing you say such sweet and simple words like I love you at any and every given moment will never not warm his heart, ever.

Sylus could hear you speak the words softly against his chest, right where his heart is when you wake up, almost as though you were whispering secrets to it in such a loving and caring way that it only made it race within his chest and swell with warm emotions within moments of you saying such tender and powerful words.

‘I love you Sylus, stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.’ You’d tell him as you kissed his forehead, pulling away only to rest your own head against his to stare into his crimson eyes, crimson eyes that stared back at you heavily with love and utter adoration as he chuckles. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it my love, for whom shall warm you in bed when I depart?’ He’d ask jokingly.

‘Mephisto.’ You’d reply jokingly as the crow could be heard squawking confusingly from his corner of the room, head tilted to one side.

You brought or perhaps revived a warmth Sylus thought was long buried within his chest.

You brought it forth so easily that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting nothing more then to rush his business meetings just so he could hear you run towards him, burry your head into his chest as you embraced him while telling him how much you loved and missed him; almost as though the confession weighed heavily upon your tongue like it was something you had to admit to before you couldn’t anymore.

He loved how much softer and sweeter the moments before you both drift off to sleep, the last thing he hears is you saying you love him in a sleepy mumble, face buried deep into his chest as sleep encased you both whole. It was a moment he repeats when you’re far away on a mission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep without hearing your voice, not after having gotten use to it after your short stay in his home.

Sylus has become accustomed to you being in his home, with him and blessing it with your warmth and personality. So to have to endure a week without you was enough for Sylus to reach for the phone and call you just to hear you tell him you love him, to know that even if there was distance between the two of you that the love between you was still as strong as it was when your both together. Sylus had grown accustomed to you sharing your thoughts and inner most emotions with him, with you always kissing him on the lips or wherever you could reach and whispering;

‘I love you’ afterwards before going about your day as though you didn’t leave him wanting to keep you locked in his arms in your shared bed, to drink you and your early morning look as you both partake in sharing your warmth, lost in one another as everything else fell away for it didn’t matter as all that truly mattered was love of your life that you held in your arms.

I love you was a strong word but your version of I love you was to say that you loved him after every moment, and in the end he found himself whispering ‘I love you’ against your forehead as he kissed it softly, holding you closer to his chest protectively before you fell into peaceful slumber together with a content smile upon his face.

Stylus was complete for his other half was welhere they belonged; in his arms.

Zayne would feel as though he was back to how he felt when you first admitted your feelings for him each time you reminded him of your love for him.

His smile upon his lips was soft and gentle, his eyes were equally so as he felt light on his feet and his heart sang your name so dreamily even long after you leave his sight.

They were words that one shouldn’t say lightly but when you say ‘I love you Zayne, I’ll see you when you get back from work to watch that new movie together.’ Zayne truly believed he could hear the angels sing as he finds himself walking into work with the goal of going back home to you.

Something of which he had once thought was never going to happen even in a million lifetimes, but he had found himself blessed to even be sharing a bed with you in this lifetime.

‘I love you Zayne.’ You’d whisper softly against his lips after pecking them multiple times, wanting nothing more than to wake your beautiful doctor with some much needed affection, all the while watching the fluttering of his eyelashes as he opens those gorgeous eyes of his to look at you sweetly.

‘I love you too my dearest.’ He relies in his morning voice, rubbing his hand softly up and down your back as he brought you into kiss your temple.

Those three words only made Zayne feel as though the progression of your relationship thus far was more than worth the longing and the pinning he has to endure in silence. Even though you did tell him there were moments where you knew he felt something towards you that went beyond platonic and into something far more romantic and genuine.

‘I love you Zayne’ were words that lived within his head constantly, even if he didn’t show it sometimes he couldn’t help but find himself wanting you to say it more and more.

Was it selfish? Yes but Zayne couldn’t help it, he wanted to hear you say it for as long as he possible could, for he knew he could never get bored of hearing you say it as it was something he had been waiting for all this time.

It was like two long lost souls finally finding each other again after so, so long. It brought a weight off of his shoulders and Zayne was more than anticipating where your future would lead you, especially if admiring to your love for one another was going to become easy as breathing.

[fagsystem]

I need people to really understand that both, 'People don't need to be defined as a bad person forever just because they did something bad, especially if you were young,' and, 'Growing and changing doesn't mean that the bad thing they did was okay,' are both very true sentiments.

A lot of people are really opposed to these sorts of ideas that OP brought up because it feels invalidating. We all know or at least can imagine the terrible things a 15 year old can do. I knew a 15 year old who, in my opinion, is the fucking devil. Horribly manipulative to everyone, terribly abusive to the point of choking his girlfriend at the time. I can understand how 'You aren't a terrible person you're 15,' sounds like it's saying, 'You can't do terrible things because you're 15,' but that's not what is being said here.

If he were to grow and change as a person, that wouldn't mean he didn't commit assault. It wouldn't erase the torment he caused to others, the trauma and suffering. None of that would go away. It's quite possible that he could grow and change into a good person while his victims are still stuck dealing with the consequences of his actions.

But as much as I hate him and will never change how I view him and as much as I wish ill on him, he's a person too. He has a life just as vivid and complex as my own, as your own, as every 15 year old who did terrible things. He is more than just a bad person, he is a human with likes and dislikes and good deeds he has done. This is the same person who I baked cupcakes for the homeless with.

People are more than who they used to be. If years from now the person he turns into doesn't do terrible things like that, that isn't erased by what he did in his past. In the same way that what he did in his past wouldn't be erased by him changing into a person who would never do that again.

You need to give people, especially young people, the ability to grow and change. That does not mean you need to forgive your abuser or that you're not allowed to be uncomfortable around people who have previously done bad things. No one is saying that.

What we're saying is that they're still people. You, person who has absolutely made mistakes before, are still a person. You are not irredeemable monsters if you did bad things, especially when you were younger. Doing something bad doesn't mean you are bad forever. You can change. You can grow. You can improve. You don't have to be defined by bad things you have done.

you're not an horrible person you are 15 years old

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and his segments get a taste of their own medicine after giving you a job of your own. (In other words, you ignore their need for attention in favor of your work, they get pouty, just like you did.)

As of late, a peculiar sight had made its way into the lab. Actually, peculiar wasn't even strong enough of a word for the agents to use. They had nearly tripped over their feet once they saw the new area of their working quarters in the lab.

In addition to their Lord Harbinger's desk (that was shared amongst the segments depending on the day), there was now another desk on the opposite side of the room, and the cute decorations on it were quite noticeable. Photo frames and stationery. A comfortable and plush chair with a blanket that dropped over it.

... A plushie version of the Harbinger that laid on Dottore's desk, commissioned by you to motivate him.

(A side thought - the number of desks the Doctor had was something to wonder about. One in the lab, one in the office, one in the bedroom - no wonder things were always scattered around the place. But that was something for another day...)

And most importantly, you, Dottore's spouse, standing next to their Lord, rocking back on your heels nervously as he introduced you as their new co-worker.

—

It all began when you approached your husband with a very simple request.

"Dottie, I want a job!" You said with enthusiasm, smile as wide and proud as ever. The scientist paused his work and turned to look at you with a blank expression.

"... A job, you say?" You only puffed your chest out more at his confirmation.

"Yes, a job. I mean, being your lover is already a lot of work for my poor back, but I want to actually work with you! With your research and stuff, like the old days!" Your excitement was completely serious and were it not for your health, it would have been infectious for the scholar. Rarely did he ever meet anyone who was truly interested in his work. But of course, certain restrictions have held you back for a long time now.

"We've already been over this. My work is too dangerous for you," the Doctor sighed as he turned back around to continue whatever he was doing.

"I know, I know, but I meant other kinds of stuff. I've been thinking like... a desk job! It doesn't have to be anything dangerous! I could... sort papers for you? Oh, and you have one of those fancy stamps, right? I could stamp them too! I could rewrite your notes... ah, and the best part - I could help you write reports too! You always liked my essays, didn't you?" You were doing your best to provide Dottore with a convincing case, snuggling up against his firm back. Only another sigh escaped your husband, not really that convinced.

"Come on..." you inhaled his familiar scent, tinged with that laboratory smell that never seemed to go away, but somehow brought comfort to you. "I've been so bored lately... and lonely," you muttered the last part pointedly. "I just want some work to take my mind off things!"

Indeed, there was always limited entertainment and pastimes to occupy yourself with. It was especially boring on days you couldn't get out of bed, or when no segment could afford you attention...

"And you know what, I could give those agents of yours some writing tips, too!"

Yes, there had been many times his employees were not up to his standards, despite how many of them fawned over him (for some odd reason)...

"And I'll be helping you too! It's good for everyone."

Of course, you always felt rather good about yourself if you managed to help him, being the Second Harbinger and all...

"I suppose I shall give it some thought-" Before the man could finish his sentence you started squeezing him tightly while hopping in delight.

"Oh, thank you! So, when do I start? Do I get one of your huge desks too?"

"I didn't say yes yet, darling."

"Shh... we both know what you mean!"

—

And that was how you now clocked in at "work" every day with the agents (later than normal, but you had special privileges.) It was daunting at first for the poor souls, even the ones who secretly admired you from afar (being in the fan club and all.) Even though initially you were merely sorting papers, you were the most important person in that room.

However, soon enough, going to work in this dreary lab became a lot more cheery thanks to your sweet demeanor. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a lot less tense since the last time the segments visited.

The agents had little to no problem speaking to you like a normal person, after you had graciously given them tips on impressing the Harbinger.

"Psst..." you were hovering behind an unsuspecting agent, reading the report she had for Dottore, who jumped at your whisper. "You know, he might click his tongue if you give him that." Although her mask covered her face, you could see that half surprised at how you popped out of nowhere, and half agreeing with your words. Perhaps she felt comfortable enough to spill the situation to you.

"I-I am well aware of that," she deeply sighed, "but no matter what I write, my Lord always seems to be unsatisfied..." You patted her shoulder in sympathy. Having worked with Dottore since the Akademiya days, you knew very well of his distaste for certain things.

"Well, that's why I was hired, friend! To make his and your life easier! See, look here, that's a no-no, he wouldn't appreciate those details, mhm, but this needs to be elaborated on more, uh huh..." Of course, being the good spouse and employee you were, the report was converted into the best one that had ever landed on the Doctor's desk.

On your lunch break, they provided you with some juicy gossip about anything they could get their hands on (the fan club had long reaches, apparently.) Frequently you had to debunk things about Dottore... (the handbook was swiftly revised.)

Needless to say, things seemed to be going well. You looked happier. Motivated. Having new "friends" as your company (that still watched their mouth around you after a single glance from the segments.)

However... an issue arose after a while. One that seemed entirely stupid and impossible.

Now that you were so caught up in your work, when the segments finally had some spare time to come to you, they were... rejected. Yes, they had come to you, fully expecting your devoted attention and kisses that you always gave them without hesitation, but now turned away. (Even more embarrassing, sometimes in front of the agents who kept their eyes glued to their strange chemicals.)

—

It was Omega, of all segments, who was turned away first. The most confident and charming of the bunch left uncharacteristically silent. He had come up behind you and traced his hands against your neck, always being the one who had no shame in touching you. You only softly giggled at the sensation and caught his hand in yours.

"It seems you've been busy for a while, dear." In truth, it was mostly you seeking him out and not vice versa, but the segment hadn't seen you invading his office in a while. The space had gotten too quiet without you.

"Mhm! But I can't imagine how much work you do. My desk is nowhere as cluttered as yours," you smiled as you felt the segment kiss your lashes.

"What do you say to a break with me?" Omega offered, already knowing what your eager response would be.

"Nah, I can't right now."

...

Your words took a few seconds to process through his head.

"Pardon?"

"I have all this work, 'Mega, and other people need my help," you shrugged your shoulders as you swung your legs. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can spend some time later!" You kissed him on the cheek and pulled your chair in before continuing your work.

Omega, the greatest segment, was reduced to a blankly staring man who had been deprived of his lover's attention for the first time.

He was irritable for the rest of the day.

—

Beta was next, the poor thing.

You were always the one he blew off steam to, always willing to listen about his gripes and complaints, offering him consolation in the form of kisses and soft words.

However, you hadn't come to visit in so long, the segment was all pent up and now the agents were beginning to fall victim to him.

Fine then - he'd seek you out. Not because he needed you or missed you or anything of the sort. You were just... halting his progress with the lack of your presence. Yes, that was it.

And so the scientist, donning his grand pink bow tie, swung by your desk.

"So this is where you've been? How boring." Beta was not a segment that you'd want to do paperwork. He much preferred to be hands-on.

"Ah, Beta!" You brightened in delight at seeing one of your lovers. "I missed you!" At least you were always honest about your feelings.

... But to cut a long story short, Beta faced the same conundrum that Omega did.

Someone got turned into a floating Ruin Machine that day.

—

By now all the segments had experienced being turned away from work. Alpha's signature scowl had become permanent. Zandy was pouting the whole day as he missed his parent. Foxttore kept to himself with a pathetic sopping wet eye. His segments were fighting with each other inside his mind, a great nuisance.

All because you were too absorbed with your work to pay them any attention.

... The Doctor was now realizing that it sounded like a very familiar tune sung by you. So this was what you felt for days on end? Now, it was easier for him to understand why you were always upset if you were ignored too much.

Still, it was mortifyingly embarrassing that his segments were reduced to this pitiful state just because you rejected cuddles a few times. Regardless, it was up to him to solve the issue. After all... he missed you too. He wanted you to be around him more often again.

And so the Doctor made his way to his beloved.

There you were, all cozy on your seat as you sorted through some papers. Really, he had no clue you'd be this productive, to be honest. At least it was proof that your health hadn't gotten worse, considering how well you were handling this.

"Aren't you the one who kept saying to take breaks?" His voice made you jump a bit, having not heard him walk up.

"It's you, Dottie! I was wondering when you'd come around. And of course, I take breaks, Dottore. I have lunch with the other agents!" Ah, another party that's been hogging your attention.

"You know, this job has been pretty fun, Dottore! Everyone's real nice, we make jokes, I get to write about interesting things..." You continued to go on about the research and while usually he'd be intrigued by your findings, this time he had enough.

Dottore picked you up like a long cat as you squealed from the sudden grasping.

"What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," was his cut and dry response as he lifted you into his arms.

"B-But I have to work on the big report for Pantalone!" Dottore's eye twitched at the mention of the banker.

"Someone else can."

"But I-"

"I'm not listening to anything you say further," he plainly said as he walked with you cuddled into his chest as you gawked at him.

Could he be... jealous? A wee bit lonely? You kept your guesses to yourself as he eventually bought you back to his room and laid you on his bed, not even saying anything to you before sitting at his desk.

Did he simply miss your presence that much? You felt a bit bad neglecting your lovers that much. But to be fair, they kinda did the same... sometimes. You got up to console your silly husband, who was just a man in your hands.

"Hey... I missed you too, dear husband... but I had to make sure no one stole the title of best assistant from me!" Dottore only sighed at your foolishness.

Of course no one could ever replace you.

"I know you'd rather die than admit it... but don't worry. You're lucky I'm sensitive to your feelings," you teased as you kissed the top of his mask. "I'll pay more attention to you and the segments, before they cause another headache for you, love. You'll give me some vacation time off, right?"

You laughed at your own joke before Dottore pulled you into his lap, biting down hard on your neck.

—

"Beloved, would you care to join me in discussing your work?"

"You fool, they're obviously coming to my lab to activate a new Ruin Machine."

"But [Name] is supposed to play with me today!!"

"As if, they're far too busy to join you all with your silly games."

"You all will stress them out with this arguing. Now, why don't you join me instead for a cup of coffee instead?"

"Grr, gr gr, grr!"

It was good to be loved so deeply.

[poguehearted77]

Pink Silk

Summary: Where Rafe is a prisoner in his own mind and can't stop the filthy flashbacks he gets of the time you shared together.

Rafe's body aches before his eyes even have the chance to open. The expensive sheets are strewn across the bed and covering his bare lower body. Eyes still close, as if second nature his brawny arm reaches over to the other side of the bed where you once were.

Feeling the cold, vacant mattress under the palm of his hands was enough to haul him out of his partial state of slumber. His eyes fluttered open, squinting under the bright rays of light that peaked through the gaps of the flowing drapes that danced with the warm summer breeze.

You were gone, already left for work, he presumes. He supposes he may as well follow in your footsteps. He prepares for the day, looking over his shoulder to take one last glance at the ruined bed. Getting a vivid memory of the way he had your face buried in the sheets, blabbering incoherently as he pounded you from behind.

A sinister grin stretches across his lips as he steps into the shower. Hissing at the hot water rolls down his back grazing over the little cuts that trailed all along it thanks to you. With a hand against the wall, he's reminded of how sinful you sounded in his ear when he had your legs wrapped around his waist, hips snapping against yours mercilessly while your nails dug into the flesh on his back.

Against his own volition, he feels his dick slowly stiffening up with every recount. He takes care of it before he finishes his shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and you still plaguing his mind he texts you. He spontaneously decided he'd take you out for lunch, to which you eventually replied with a pink heart and a thumbs up.

You'd never been a great texter, but in all fairness, neither was he. You both didn't have time to overthink little texts, you felt emojis said everything you needed to say while Rafe hardly used them and opted for unintentionally sassy abbreviations instead.

You still remember his response to your invite to your aunt's wedding. "k."

-

Rafe walked into the Hamilton Hotel, just one of the hundreds of hotel chains that your family owns. The elegantly patterned marble floors shine bright off the reflections from the chandeliers that hang down from above.

"Cameron!" Rafe's head snaps up to the source of the deep voice calling him. He pockets the small gift he'd brought for you and approaches your father who had just finished talking lecturing the receptionist.

"How are you, Mr. Hamilton?" Rafe is polite, accepting the shake of hands your father offered. "Better now that there's some competence around. I couldn't be happier that my daughter found a man like you, raised right like a true gentleman." Rafe's cheeks heat up at the praise but his body burns from the thoughts they trigger.

"I know my Y/n is in good hands with a respectful young man like yourself." Rafe gulps, mind replaying the way he did in fact have you in his hands last night and bent over his lap. Oh, and he was the farthest thing from respectful. The bruises on the inside of your thighs were a testament to it, and perhaps the slight limp you had as you were making your way over to them right now.

"Daddy," You smile, referring to your father but both heads turn to you. The blood drains from your face as you realize Rafe had just publicly reacted to that title in front of your father. Thankfully, he didn't notice and Rafe looks away.

Your dad hugs you before bidding his farewells and walking off. You look to Rafe with a look of disbelief and the two of you snicker like little kids. "I brought you somethin'" Rafe pulls out a small box from his back pocket.

A small grin stretches over your lips, "What calls for the occasion." Your boyfriend shrugs, "Jus' felt like it." Your surprise is genuine as the box slides open to reveal a Cartier bracelet. "Rafee," You pout, letting him put it on you, adding to the small stack of high-end jewellery that adorned your wrists.

"You're so cute," You smile, gently stroking his cheek with your right hand. Rafe leans into it, one of his arms slinking around your waist. His hand resting on the small of your back, subtly adorning the material of your baby pink dress. "Is this new?" He asks and you shake your head.

The other guests around were regulars and far too familiar with the high-profile couple who looked like they always needed to get a room (and you did). However, the older clients always thought you two were the cutest, reminding them of their younger selves.

"So you won't mind if I tear this off you later?" A laugh bubbles out of you and you push him away, "I'll think about it. If you buy me another one, you might have yourself a deal." You'd already begun to walk out the door, your walk enchanting and Rafe couldn't peel his eyes off you.

"I'll buy you the whole store." He promises from where he stands, legs frozen as he admires you from behind. "You coming or what? We've only got an hour." You beckon and that's all it takes to have him springing after you.

Unsurprisingly, the majority of the hour was put to good use in the back of Rafe's truck, and he kept true to his word and got you both something quick to eat afterward.

Promising a shopping spree for you after work as he couldn't help himself and accidentally tore the strap of your dress.

[wonderjanga]

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

[fairlyang]

thinking of stranger!miguel accidentally catching pornstar!reader masturbating in her car

you had been meaning to film this type of video for a long while now but never able to get one of your sex worker friends to help you be a stranger that helps you out due to different schedules.

alas you decided to do it and risk an actual person finding you and secretly hoping that they do help you.

your camera was already set and rolling with you in the driver's seat, right leg over the center console and right hand rubbing your clit. you were looking right at the camera as you moaned and played with your tits with your other hand.

the dress you were wearing was above your stomach and you teasingly would bring the fabric from your tits down, just to barely see your nipples only to leave it as is.

you could feel a slight breeze since you left the tinted window a bit down in case any perv had the urge to take a peek inside. you were already playing for a good ten minutes, edging yourself just praying someone would not only walk by but also help.

a couple people have walked past, not seeing or hearing you but it did bring some excitement as you watched them. you were starting to grow impatient so maybe it’d be a shorter video for the channel.

meanwhile, miguel was coming back from taking a jog at his usual trail and was on his way back home. he did more than usual so he just walked back when he suddenly walked past a car and heard a moan.

he stopped in his tracks and couldn’t help but look into the small opening just to see you fingering yourself with your eyes closed. his eyes were wide and he couldn’t believe the sight.

this was something straight out of a porno and although you didn’t see him, the camera sure did.

his head was out of frame and the black wife beater was stuck to his skin. his arms were out and that was all the camera would be able to see of him.

his breath shortened and he gulped, absolutely shocked he’d be able to witness something so dirty but also hot. and by a gorgeous girl too?

he’d have to get a lottery ticket after this.

he straightened up and thought of what he should do. realistically he knew what he wanted to do but he was a complete stranger, maybe it was too much.

…

but then again there wouldn’t be another opportunity like this.

he watched you for a few more seconds, admiring the way your tits bounced while you fucked yourself harder. finally he made his move. he cleared his throat and lightly tapped on the window making you gasp and turn your head to the left to see a handsome man looking at you.

hopefully it was your lucky day.

“are you alright?” he asks and you quickly nod, “i am now..”

his cheeks grow warm and he’s not sure what to do next. you give him a smile and decide to go for it, “i’m filming a video and was hoping i’d get lucky enough to get some help…”

“do you wanna help me?” you ask, looking directly into his eyes as he just nods.

you pushed the button and made the window go all the way down then reach for his right arm. he reaches inside, getting as close to your car while you guide his hand to your tits. you pulled the top of the dress down, exposing your tits to him then made him touch them.

he squeezed the right one first making you moan because another persons hand would always be better than your own. he went to the other one and squeezed your nipple gently, you spread your legs a bit more just so he could have enough space.

he was too busy groping your tits to notice, at least that was until you pulled his arm up to your face. you grabbed his wrist and slipped two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them with your eyes boring into his while you made sure they were nice and wet.

you pulled them out with a plop and quickly brought his arm down between your legs and he slipped them inside without hesitation. he moved slowly, giving you time to get use to it while you you moaned and held onto his arm to urge him to do more. he took notice and went deeper, your slippery walls entrapping them while he set a fast pace for you.

“oh f-fuck- yes!” you moaned and bucked your hips up. his fingers were much thicker than yours, actually able to stretch you out unlike your own. it was just what you needed.

miguel was watching the way your pussy just took his fingers in, your wetness already dripping down when he’s only just started. what he didn’t know was you’ve been edging and just having a complete stranger do this could make you cum at any second.

you held onto his arm, holding on tightly as he pumped them faster and harder making you a moaning mess for him. he felt his shorts become tighter and he knew he was done for.

“you like that baby?” he murmurs and you quickly nod with a slight pout on your lips.

your brain was already mush, not actually thinking one of your fantasies would come true but happy they did with someone so fine. and the fact that he knew what he was doing was the cherry on top.

“such a dirty girl huh? playing with yourself in public like this?” he murmured and you clenched against his fingers.

you whimpered and laid your head to the side by the seatbelt while he continued, “so fucking wet too, you really wanted this to happen didnt you, baby?”

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as you felt a knot form in your stomach. you let go of his arm and brought your right hand to quickly rub your clit, feeling the strong urge to squirt, knowing you should stop but it’d feel so good.

“that’s it baby, such a good girl. gonna cum for me? just gonna cum for a stranger?” he murmured lowly, able to feel you squeeze and just watching your body contort in pleasure.

“fuck- p-please don’t stop-“ you whimpered out and felt your legs start to shake.

“i’ve got you gorgeous, come on give it to me.” he purred and that did it for you.

you cried out as your juices quickly came out of you, he slipped his fingers out and replaced yours on your clit so he could make sure every drop comes out. you whimpered and moaned as he went from rubbing your clit fast as you reached your climax to suddenly slow when nothing else came out.

he stopped and left his hand on your thigh, murmuring sweet praises as you calmed yourself down and closed your legs. you closed your eyes, deciding that if you didn’t look at the disaster then it simply wasn’t there. not only are you too tired to clean it all up, you were in absolute shock that actually happened.

your breathing was steady again and you opened your eyes, turning to look out the window and at him. he really was gorgeous and if you weren’t so beat you’d offer to suck him off in the backseat but you were exhausted.

“thank you, stranger. gonna have to make a rain check on when i can make it up to you…” you say and he chuckles.

he shrugs and gives you a smile, “there’s really no need. can’t deny a pretty girl when she needs help.”

you grinned and shrugged, turning to open your center console, grabbing a business card and then handing it to him, “well if you change your mind…”

he grabbed it and nodding as he put it in his pocket, “i’ll let you know.”

he gave you one final smile before walking the way he was going before he stopped, now having to do the walk of shame with a hard on and wet fingers.

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo. 

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them. 

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better. 

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description. 

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty. 

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return. 

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him. 

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.  

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay. 

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too. 

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual. 

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne. 

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.” 

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial. 

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do. 

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says. 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king. 

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again. 

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.” 

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?” 

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you. 

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?” 

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it. 

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch. 

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt. 

“I don’t know the code,” you say. 

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.” 

You nod. 

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase. 

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.” 

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently. 

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning. 

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it. 

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--” 

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?” 

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds. 

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?” 

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards. 

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.” 

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling. 

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.” 

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means. 

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--” 

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.” 

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks. 

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.” 

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 6

SDE MASTERLIST - FEM!reader (POC!reader)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4845

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: talks about blood & nightmares (nothing too graphic!)soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

NOT proofread

to be added to taglist

As you slipped into your sleep, you found yourself wandering through memories—familiar, cherished memories—it all came flooding back, slipping into your mind like whispers and playing before your eyes like a movie. It was a bright, golden afternoon by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. You could see Ron, Harry and Hermione.

They were sitting on the grass on a picnic blanket you’d brought, laughing over something Ron had said, his face red with barely-contained laughter. Hermione was reading out loud from a book, clearly exasperated but smiling, and Harry was watching them both with that look. A look that he always had when he was at ease, a rare smile.

Harry’s glasses are slipping down his nose as he squints against the sun, his hair as messy as ever. Ron stretched out lazily, one arm propped behind his head as he reaches for a pumpkin pasty with the other.

“It’s so good to see you,” you say softly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You felt a pang of longing, realizing how much you miss this easy, familiar closeness.

“Oh, you’re stuck with us, don’t worry,” Harry says with a grin, his green eyes bright and reassuring. “We’d never leave you.”

“Absolutely,” Hermione adds, nodding earnestly and closing the book on her lap. “Besides, who else would help us figure out all these mysteries? You’re as much a part of this as we are.”

Ron chuckles, taking a big bite of his pasty. “Not to mention, someone has to be there to keep you two from overthinking everything. Imagine the chaos if it was just the three of us.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth in your chest.

“You know,” you say, glancing at the lake where the water shimmers in the sunlight, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Just… having a picnic, no worries about anything else.”

Hermione reaches over and gives your hand a squeeze. “We’re here, whenever you need us. Even when things get difficult, remember that.”

Harry nods, his expression softening. “Don’t let anything make you doubt that. We’re always with you.”

You felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia hit you, drawn into the comfort of those days you had spent with your friends. You could hear their voices as clear as day. Their laughter mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle breeze. It felt safe, like nothing could touch or hurt any of you, like the years hadn’t drawn you apart.

But as the warmth of the dream lingers, something shifts. Colours started to fade, darkening the sky. The warmth of the sky dissipating into a cold shadow. The laughter thinned into silence, Hermione’s face contorting in worry as she looked toward the darkening horizon. You reached for your wand, only to find nothing. You looked up towards your friends.

One by one, they started to fade—Ron’s freckles dimming into the darkness, Hermione’s eyes lost the fear as her face became indistinct, until only Harry remains. He’s staring at you, dead in your eyes, his expression haunted, as though he knows something you don’t.

The familiar faces of your friends became twisted, their eyes wide and hollow, black, staring past you, as if you weren’t even there.

“You've never been alone in this.”

You turned your head towards the sound of Harry’s voice from behind you. Suddenly, you’re no longer sitting on the grass. The world around you seemed to shift and distort, like the walls of reality were bending in on themselves.

Instead, found yourself in the Great Hall, but it’s ruined, twisted. Broken. There’s rubble everywhere, and you’re alone with a figure moving slowly through the debris. You look down to find your wand in hand, trembling, but no matter how hard you try to call put, no sound leaves your lips.

The figure points behind you and unwillingly your head turns with the hand, behind you could see them, all of them, your friends—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and the twins. They were standing at a distance, eyes empty and staring straight through you. They look lost, hollow, shadows of who they once were.

A faint dripping sound pulls your attention away from their faces. You glance down and notice a small puddle of blood pooling at Hermione’s feet. Your gaze shifts up to her arm, slick with blood, where something is scrawled in crimson against her arm.

Tears formed in your eyes and you looked away, towards Harry, the hollow in his eyes having a faint green look in his eyes. As soon as you noticed it, it left.

You tried to move toward them, but your feet felt glued to the spot. A wave of helplessness surged through you. The only thing you could do watch as figured emerged from the darkness, out of the walls—hooded, faceless shadows  that closed in around your friends. 

Distant screams echoing as they were dragged away, lost in the darkness.

Your heart pounds painfully, the sense of helplessness crushing you. A chill crawls down your spine, the cold seeping deep into your bones. Your breaths grow shallow, the weight of guilt pressing down like a heavy stone.

And then, in the depth of the moment, the figure approached you—a pair of cold, dark brown, calculating eyes fixed on you, a face shrouded in darkness but recognisable everywhere. Tom.

He’s looking at you, a small, chilling smile playing at his lips. His voice echoes, low and taunting. “They’re all gone because of you,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “Because you couldn’t change a thing.”

Your breath hitches, and you stagger, trying to escape, to wake up, but his face looms even closer. His presence filled the void with even more darkness, casting shadows that seemed to cling to your skin, creeping up your spine like ice.

“Why are you even here?” his voice echoed, smooth and unfeeling, carrying a weight that felt like judgment. “Do you really think you can change anything?”

You woke up with a start, heart racing and gasping for air, the cold sweat clinging to your skin as the remnants of the nightmare cling to your mind. You sit up, images of twisted faces and dark shadows still burning behind your eyelids.

You sat up, wiping at your face with shaky hands, only to realise they were wet—tears had already started to flow, now completely blurring your vision. You wiped them away with a shaky hand, but they just kept coming, as though all the fear, all the frustration, all the loneliness you’d been bottling up had burst free. 

Looking around the empty dorm room, you realized it was Sunday morning. Your roommates had already left for breakfast, leaving you in a silent room that suddenly felt too big, too cold.

With your chest tightening, you stumbled out of bed, grabbing a sweater and tugging it on over your head, fingers fumbling with the sleeves. You barely took the time to slip on shoes, leaving them unlaced as you hurried out of the dormitory. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and the cold, early-morning stone floors of the castle did little to calm you as you rushed through the corridors, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you navigated the winding halls, your mind locked on one single thought: Dumbledore. he had to send you back. you couldn’t take it anymore. 

It wasn’t long before you reached the familiar stretch of hall leading to professor dumbledore’s office. 

The portraits along the walls watched you as you rushed past, whispering among themselves. You climbed staircase after staircase, fueled by a mixture of fear and anger, until finally you stood in front of the stone gargoyle guarding dumbledore’s office.

“Let me in,” you whispered hoarsely, still crying, your voice cracking. When the gargoyle didn’t move, you let out a strangled yell, slamming your fists against the cold stone. “let me in! please!”

As if in response to your desperation, the stone gargoyle slowly shifted aside, revealing the spiral staircase. You scrambled up, each step feeling like it took forever, until finally you burst into his office. He was seated behind his desk, calmly looking over a stack of papers, but he looked up immediately when you stormed in, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said gently, closing the door behind you. “What brings you here so early?”

“Professor,” you choked out, standing in the middle of the room, your body trembling as the flood of emotions poured out, “Send me back. Please, send me back. I don’t want to be here anymore, I… I can’t do this.”

You swallowed, the words coming out in a shaky rush. “I can’t… I can’t stay here. I want to go back. please, I need to go back to my time. I miss my friends, my parents… everyone. i can’t do—” 

The weight of everything came crashing down as you spoke, your voice trembling. “Please, professor, I don’t belong here… I want to go home.” your voice broke, and a sob escaped you. you covered your mouth with one hand, the tears coming faster now, blurring your vision completely.

dumbledore’s eyes were full of understanding as he stepped closer, guiding you gently to a chair. “take a seat, my dear,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. “i know this must feel unbearably difficult.”

“No, you don’t understand!” you interrupted, your voice coming out in a broken yell. “I don’t want to sit down! I want to go back!”

“I don’t belong here! every day, every second i’m here, it feels like… like i’m suffocating. i miss my friends, i miss my family, and i can’t…just pretend everything is okay. it’s not fair! you brought me here, and now i’m stuck. i never even had a choice!”

Tears were streaming freely down your face, your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms. Dumbledore took a step toward you, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

You sank into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to catch your breath, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel so alone… everything here is different, and I don’t know how long I can pretend I’m alright with it.”

he took a seat beside you, his expression pained but kind. “Your feelings are entirely valid, and your courage to speak up about them is admirable.” he paused, studying your tear-streaked face with that same intense, searching look he often wore. “Being out of one’s own time is a very heavy burden to bear. You have been given a task that no one should be asked to bear alone.”

“Don’t tell me to be brave, don’t tell me this is for some greater purpose!” you shouted, voice breaking. “I don’t care about the greater purpose! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here, living in constant fear, watching every move I make. you don’t understand what it’s like!” 

Your sobs overtook you, racking your whole body as you sank deeper into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself from falling apart. “I miss them so much. please… please, just send me back.”

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, watching you with a sadness that only deepened the ache in your chest.

“If I could, child, I would,” he said softly, his voice filled with an unfamiliar heaviness. “But, you know why you’re here. There are things that must be done, paths that must be taken.”

“I do not say this lightly, and I do not expect you to forgive me for the burden I have placed on you. but the future depends on it.”

“I don’t care about the future right now!” you yelled, the anger burning bright through the fear and pain. “I care about now! I care about my life and my friends and my family.”

“Why should I have to give all that up? I didn’t ask for any of this! I lost my life—freedom for you!”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, as if weighing each of your words. “Sometimes, life asks of us sacrifices we would never choose,” he said quietly. “I am deeply sorry for that. But know this—you are not alone, and you do have the strength to face what lies ahead.”

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “And strength, my dear, does not mean the absence of pain or fear. Strength is simply the willingness to keep moving forward, even when it feels impossible.”

You stared at the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on you. a part of you wanted to believe him, but another part just felt… tired. bone-deep tired.

“I don’t even know if I-I’m doing it right,” you managed to whisper, your fingers gripping the edge of your sweater tightly. “What if… what if nothing changes? What if Harry still… still dies?” 

“I understand your fears,” he said softly, “But I am here to help guide you. And while I cannot give you a clear answer about the future, I can tell you that your presence here has already changed things, even if it may not be obvious.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubts gnawed at you. “I feel like I’m losing myself, professor. every day, it feels harder to remember who I am, or who I used to be.”

“Your identity is not lost, even if you feel disconnected from it,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. “It is within you, no matter what time you find yourself in.”

You looked down, sniffling, trying to draw strength from his words. “It’s just… Everyone feels so far away.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes soft with compassion. “You are allowed to feel this way. It is human, after all, to yearn for those we love.”

After a few moments of silence, he added, “If you truly wish to return, I can explore the possibility of sending you back to your time. However, I would ask you to take a little time to think it over first. Sometimes, in the midst of hardship, we cannot see the strength that lies within us until the storm has passed.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding, though the ache in your heart still lingered.

He offered you a reassuring smile. “Whenever you need to speak, my door is always open.”

The gentle waves of the black lake lapped at the shore, the water shimmering under the soft morning light. You sat by the edge, hugging your knees to your chest, staring out across the lake as memories of Harry, hermione, and Ron surfaced, vivid and sharp. The ache in your chest felt endless, like a hollow, sinking weight that refused to leave. 

The spot felt haunted now, a cruel reminder of everything you’d left behind—the laughter, the closeness, the feeling of home that was slipping further from your reach with each passing day. You felt yourself fraying at the edges, unraveling beneath the surface of your forced smiles and brave face.

You barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching until someone sat down beside you. Turning your head, you found Lucas, his usual easygoing grin replaced by a look of gentle concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging you with his elbow. “you look like you've got the weight of the entire library on your shoulders. what's going on?”

You tried to respond, to tell him it was nothing, but the words caught in your throat. The mere kindness in his voice, the familiarity of it, broke something in you. All at once, the tears started to flow, again, hot and unstoppable, and you buried your face in your hands.

Lucas’s arm immediately wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t press you for answers. He just held you there, letting you sob against him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Cry all you need to. I’ll even throw in a free shoulder to soak.”

You let out a choked laugh through the tears, but the laughter quickly turned back into sobs. You clutched onto him tightly, as if he could anchor you back from the overwhelming tide of pain and loneliness that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m a mess today.,” you managed to say between sobs, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I miss my friends so much, Lucas.”

He nodded, squeezing you gently. “I know, I know. That’s got to be the hardest part of all this—being here, away from everyone. But you’re not alone, okay? i’m right here, and i’ll stay here as long as you need me to.”

“Besides, we can always send them letters, they’re only in France.”

You stayed there, clutching onto his warmth, letting his words settle over you like a balm. ‘Only in France’

You swallowed fresh tears. 

After a few moments, he leaned his head closer, his voice soft but with a familiar mischievous edge. “Besides, who else would put up with me if you weren’t here?”

You sniffled, managing a small, wobbly smile. “Probably, like, everyone. you’re everyone’s favorite flirt, Lucas.”

He grinned, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, that’s true. But nobody gets my best material like you do. I save all the good jokes just for you, y’know?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, insults aside, at least I got you to laugh. My work here is almost done.”

You smiled a little, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift, if only for a moment. Lucas’ arm stayed around your shoulders, solid and steady, like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed so badly.

“You’ve got a lot on your shoulders,” he said, his voice turning gentle again. “And I know it feels impossible, but you’re stronger than you think, Y/n. and I’ll be here every step of the way, even if you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”

You let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle over you. It wasn’t home, it wasn’t Harry, Hermione, or Ron, but Lucas was here, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. And for now, it was enough.

“Thank you, Lucas,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. 

He gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime. I mean it. Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to charm the socks off the Slytherins just for fun, I’m your guy.”

You laughed again, and this time, it felt genuine. Lucas gave you a smile that was soft and warm, and as you sat by the lake together, you felt, for the first time in a long time, that you might be able to make it through this—one small step at a time.

Lucas nudged you with his shoulder as he reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Alright, Y/n, here’s a question: if you could switch places with anyone in the entire wizarding world right now, who would it be?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. “Easy—someone on holiday. preferably somewhere sunny.”

Alicia laughed, tossing a piece of bread at you. “That’s cheating! I thought you’d say someone exciting, like an auror or the minister of magic.”

“Can’t blame her,” Lilith chimed in, grinning. 

“A tropical holiday sounds pretty thrilling after being stuck in potions all morning.” Maeve nodded her head, agreeing.

“You’ve got a point,” Lucas said thoughtfully, grinning at you. “Although, if I could switch with anyone, I’d probably pick Slughorn. Imagine all the secrets he must know, all those weird stories about famous people.”

“And you’d get to throw endless parties for yourself,” Lilith pointed out, a rare smile tugging at her lips. 

Maeve smiled, “it would be the ultimate ego trip.”

Everyone laughed, and Lucas shrugged, clearly not bothered. “Hey, the guy knows how to live. He’s probably got more gossip than all of us combined. Speaking of parties,” he added, raising an eyebrow at you, “Ready for the slug club soirée, miss Riddle’s date?”

You groaned, feeling your cheeks warm as the others turned to look at you with intrigued expressions.

“I still can’t believe he just… declared you his date and walked off,” Alicia said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You didn’t get a single word in?”

“Not one,” you admitted, laughing. “He just looked at me with that infuriatingly smug expression and then left.”

Lucas leaned in, smirking. “And you, Y/n, are seriously going along with it?”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I mean, he’s kinda… hot.”

“So… yes, I guess I am.”

Alicia nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, eyes widening. “Hot? He’s terrifying, Y/n! Have you seen the way he just stares at people? It’s like he’s plotting their downfall.”

“Yeah,” Maeve added, shooting you a half-amused, half-bewildered look, “But I get it… he’s got that whole brooding dark lord-in-the-making vibe. still, I wouldn’t want to be within hexing range.”

You couldn’t help but laugh uneasy, brushing off their reactions. 

Lilith shoved some cauliflower onto her plate, “oh, come on, sure, he’s intense, but there’s something about him that’s… intriguing.”

Lucas, however, looked horrified. He leaned back, crossing his arms dramatically. “intriguing? no, no, Lili, intriguing is a new flavor of bertie bott’s beans or a strange ingredient in potions. Not Tom Riddle.”

Maeve nodded absentmindedly, “He does look like a good snack.”

Lucas gaped, “Sorry, what is wrong with you?”

Maeve shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t act as if you wouldn’t like a little nibble from him, even though you’re like—into girls and stuff.”

You straightened up, feeling Lucas tense beside you. So, you were the first person to know. Alicia also having noticed this, she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Lucas,” Alicia teased, nudging him. “I think we’re all just a little scared that she’s going to show up to the party in some hypnotic trance, spellbound by his ‘intensity.’”

Lucas rolled his eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, but you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But personally, I think he’s the human embodiment of a dark cloud, and I’d rather not be around for the thunderstorm.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you replied with a grin. “It’s just one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lucas gave you a long, exasperated look but then sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “I feel like you’ve just jinxed us."

“But, if it makes you happy, I suppose… but just remember, if he starts getting that ‘plotting world domination’ look, I’ll be there with a rescue plan.” 

You grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ll keep an eye out for his ‘dark cloud’ side.”

Maeve leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “And what are you wearing?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Lucas said proudly before you could respond. “We’re matching.”

The entire group burst into a chorus of excited gasps and laughter, peppering you with questions. Lilith just nodded approvingly.

“Trust Lucas to make sure you two are the best-dressed at the party,” she said, a hint of admiration in her tone.

“Hey, if she’s going to suffer through a night with Riddle, the least I can do is make sure she looks fantastic,” Lucas said, grinning. “We’re talking silk, elegance, mystery—the works.”

“I don’t know about suffering,” you said, shrugging, though a part of you felt slightly on edge about the party. Tom Riddle’s attention still felt unsettling, but you didn’t want to think about that now.

“Oh, come on, I bet he’s actually a terrible dancer,” Maeve said with a wink. “you might have to lead.”

“That would be hilarious,” Alicia added, snickering. “Just don’t let him step on your toes.”

Lucas laughed. “If he does, you have my permission to hex him right there in front of everyone.”

You couldn’t help but smile, comforted by the light-hearted teasing. As you looked around the table, a warmth settled over you, the tension from this morning melting away.

“If anything, I know you’ll be having a great time, Lucas,” you said, nudging him.

You stood up from the table, giving Lucas and the others a quick wave as you grabbed your bag. “I’m going to the library to study with Ben,” you said, smiling weakly. “I’ll see you later.”

Lucas shot you a mock-salute, his expression playfully suspicious as if to say,  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ You grinned and waved him off, heading down the hall with the familiar comfort of your new friends’ laughter fading behind you.

The corridors were quiet, the muffled hum of the Great Hall lingering in the background as you made your way toward the library. You had only made it a few steps when, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone falling into stride beside you. It was Tom.

He moved silently, his steps measured and smooth, his hands tucked into his robe pockets. You hadn’t even heard him approach, yet here he was, looking as composed and unreadable as ever. You tried not to tense, but the memory of his last intense gaze lingered. 

You didn’t look at him but raised an eyebrow anyway.

“You’re walking alone,” his voice came from just next to you, and you could almost feel his gaze on the side of your face. “I thought I might walk with you.”

“Y/n,” he said, voice calm but direct, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

You hummed in reply, wondering where this conversation was going to lead you this time.

 “I saw you by the Black Lake earlier.”

You kept your gaze forward, unsure where this was going. “…And?”

His tone was quieter than usual, though still carefully controlled. “You were …crying.”

The words struck you, not because they were untrue, but because you hadn’t realized anyone had seen. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, defensive instinct kicking in.

“Why do you care?” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “It’s hardly any of your business, Riddle.”

He looked at you, brow raised slightly. “It’s not,” he admitted. “But I’m asking.”

You glanced at him, his face composed but his eyes watchful, curious in a way that felt genuine, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything about him was calculated. Even so, he had a strange intensity about him that made it hard to dismiss him completely.

You stiffened, your fingers tightening around your bag strap. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your gaze fixed ahead. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated, almost sounding amused. “You’re lying.”

“If you must know, it’s because… I had a difficult time, with….something,” you kept your words vague, unwilling to open up fully but feeling oddly compelled to say something.

“Difficult?” Tom echoed, his voice betraying the faintest hint of curiosity. “You seem perfectly capable of handling yourself. What could possibly make you—” he paused, almost as if the word felt foreign to him, “—upset?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone guarded. “Being capable doesn’t make someone immune to, well… feeling lost, different? I don’t know. It’s not like everyone here is exactly friendly.”

He nodded, considering your words in silence as you turned the final corner toward the library. “You sound like a Hufflepuff.”

After a beat, he spoke again, his voice almost softer. “Perhaps.”

“It is just very odd to imagine someone like you feeling out of place.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I wonder why that is.”

Something in his voice made you feel exposed, as though he was peeling back layers you hadn’t even known were there. You were confused how he spoke so, elegantly for someone so rough.

You looked away, shrugging. “Maybe because I’m just a girl, at the end of the day.”

You caught a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of interest in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I understand that feeling, you know. Not fitting in. It’s a powerful motivator.”

The words lingered between you, unspoken layers hidden in their simplicity, and before you could form a response, he glanced down the hallway.

“We’re nearly there,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual detached calm. “Don’t forget, by the way—Slug Club party. You’re still my date.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, with the same silent precision, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone outside the library, a strange sense of unsettledness trailing in his wake.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—some subtle, quiet thing—had shifted between the two of you because of that little conversation. And you weren’t sure whether it was unsettling or… strangely comforting. But you could feel it in your stomach.

A/N: sorry for late postinggg, hope you enjoyed it though!! also, I'm having problems with tagging, so i apologize if your tag didn't work :(

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[cookiekissers]

can we please get a buring spice x fragile reader, like they want to help and fight/hunt but physical can't because they are that fragile, simply bumbing into another cookie could cause them to crack!

Do Not Go Gently

[Burning Spice Cookie x Fragile Reader]

I was inspired and tried something a little different with this so I hope you like it! and Burning Spice redemption anyone? B)

The life of a Wild Spice was fraught with constant struggle and danger. If you were weak, you would be ground into dust, either by one of the other tribes or by the Great Destroyer himself. And you happened to be one of the weaker spices.

Delicate and fragile by nature, your main ingredient was parsley. The harsh desert winds of your homeland often left your leaves and dough brittle. The stronger Wild Spices almost always belittled you and your small tribe as you barely etched out an existence. You weren't tough and built with natural armour, like the Pepper Pangolins, or strong like the Saffron Buffaloes. But if there was one thing you were, it was tenacious.

When the Great Destroyer returned, you feared that your inherent frailness only spelled ruin for you and your tribe, soon to join the scattered remains of your ancestors. Despite the risks, you boldly joined the other Wild Spice leaders and offered your loyalty and service to Burning Spice Cookie.

He had looked over you and laughed, calling you weak and pathetic. As you knelt there, showing your sincere devotion, you thought it was all over for you. Still, Burning Spice miraculously passed over you and left you be. The Great Destroyer was not known to spare those he thought weak, so you could only imagine that he saw something in you that you hadn't. Since that moment, you were inspired by the Great Destroyer, not out of fear but admiration. You knew he didn't care for you. With a sweep of his hand, he could wipe your existence from this earth in seconds. But still, you fought hard and trained harder until your dough was cracked and crumbling to show that you had a right to continue living. Burning Spice Cookie had spared you. Your life had to mean something to him.

The little thing kneeling at his feet was pathetic. A Cookie so fragile that their dough cracked at the mildest of strikes was not worthy to be in his presence. And yet, instead of hiding from his inevitable fury, here you were. Burning Spice had to admit, you had guts. He didn't want to waste his time crumbling you himself when he knew you wouldn't put up a good fight. It would be far more entertaining to watch you struggle, only for you to fall to your unavoidable fate.

And yet...

That moment never came. Regardless of how grievous your wounds or the crumbling of your dough, you threw yourself back into battle again and again. Unafraid of the death that awaited you. Burning Spice Cookie found himself almost... fascinated by you.

You were so fragile, doomed to fail. And yet... you fought to cling a little longer to your short, pathetic life.

It reminded him of a time long past.

One day, after Burning Spice had enough of the annoying thoughts of you buzzing around his head, he decided to pay your tribe a visit. All the inhabitants of your tribe weren't as tough as you, which was somewhat of a disappointment. They scurried into their homes, terrified of him, or fell to their knees, grovelling at his feet for mercy. But you... you remained standing, like a resolute warrior, poised as if death were coming to claim you. You were unafraid. You had accepted it, but that did not mean you would go without a grand fight.

He approached you, ignoring the rest of your tribe, and you bowed your head in respect to the Great Destroyer. You didn't bow as deeply as you used to, but Burning Spice let it slide.

You had changed. Your eyes held a solemn understanding, and your dough was now riddled with scars, honourable rewards of fighting to see another day.

Burning Spice Cookie watched you, realizing he had no words. Why had curiosity brought him here to see you? He couldn't come up with an answer. His previous excuse of being amused by your antics had faded into something... else.

You broke the silence and invited Burning Spice Cookie into your humble home, and he accepted. Your tribe was astonished at their leader, who stood fearlessly in front of the Great Destroyer, and he had not razed their village to the ground in retaliation.

"Well, this is a surprise." Burning Spice Cookie mused. It was still surprising to him. Destruction was the end of all things, whether by his hand or not. But you stood in the face of it and fought it. Refusing to meet it on its terms.

"That I'm still here?" You replied bluntly, an amused smile on your face. Burning Spice Cookie would usually have felt excitement upon discovering a Cookie like you - someone who could ignite his passion and provide a worthy challenge now that you had grown stronger against all odds. However, that’s not how he felt at this moment. It wasn't even boredom. Instead, he felt the same solemness reflected in your eyes.

Burning Spice Cookie asked you to be his right hand. The request came so suddenly that it left you momentarily stunned. All the strife and gruelling work you had endured had finally paid off in a way you never could have imagined.

"Yes, I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." You said, quickly bowing your head deeply in gratitude.

Burning Spice Cookie knew that your luck was going to eventually run out and your fragile dough would crumble, slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Like with all things, it was inevitable, regardless of how hard you fought to cling to your pitiful life.

But he would be there when it happened, he would watch you. He would burn your rage into his mind as you descended into the endless night, fighting and spitting for just one more day.

Once you joined your ancestors, he would remember you. Always.

[cuubism]

Dreamling Olympic Equestrian AU, the Sequel (less Olympics, more Equestrian)

-

Hob wished he could say he took a ‘reasonable’ approach to dating Dream after the Olympics. In actuality he basically just went home with Dream and never left. He helped him get Jessamy settled in, and then Dream wanted him to stay over, and then Hob made him breakfast the next morning, and then—

He did eventually have to go take care of his own horses, and generally get back to his real responsibilities, but it was done with reluctance. Damn him, but he’d immediately started missing Dream. Too attached, too quickly, that was always his way.

And then not a week later Dream had invited him to bring his horse and go on a hack, and, well. Maybe Hob wasn’t the only one being unreasonable about it.

Safe to say they had never really gotten rid of each other after that.

By the end of the year Hob did very much the opposite of getting rid of Dream. Which was to say, marrying him. He was now the proud owner of some very cliche wedding photos of them leaning over to kiss each other while on horseback. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterwards, they’d both sold their respective properties, pooled their resources—mostly Dream’s resources if Hob was being totally honest—and bought a place together.

Hob still remembers finding the farm on the market and taking Dream to see it for the first time. He’d been so excited for Dream to see it. Dream had such high standards and Hob had been sure they were going to have to compromise on something, but this property had everything Dream had ever expressed wanting in a farm and other things besides. Rolling fields and connections to nearby bridle paths. A massive indoor arena for riding in inclement weather. Three-sided shelters in all of the paddocks. Automatic waterers. Heated wash stalls. The damn floors were heated too, not that they used the stalls much, but Dream’s geriatric ponies would surely appreciate it come wintertime.

(Hob had been extremely charmed to learn, upon first visiting Dream's farm, that Dream still owned the incredibly fancy ponies Hob had correctly assumed he'd grown up riding as a child. They were now ancient and feral and tended to bite anyone other than Dream. It was delightful.)

Hob’s favorite part of the property was the house. It was set a bit off from the main barn, close enough to be an easy walk but out of the way of the traffic if one was to operate the place as a full-service livery. Dream had loved the cottage at Hob’s previous farm, and this house was much the same, quaint and cozy with its own pond and meandering garden path. It even had a screened-in patio for Dream’s persnickety cats to sunbathe.

It was all perfect. Dream had actually squealed when Hob brought him to see it. It was lucky Dream had money otherwise Hob would have probably done something illegal to afford the place just to see that look on his face every day.

Six months and an amount of money Hob didn’t want to think about later, they had their own farm and had started taking on clients. It should have been idyllic. In many ways it was. Jessamy and Hob’s retired event horse, Ellie, were getting along swimmingly in their big field. Dream’s feral old ponies were rampaging about the place. The amount of space was a bit dangerous, as Dream kept sending Hob photos of pretty horses for sale, saying we have the space for it, Hob. He didn’t seem to care that the prices of said horses were upwards of one hundred thousand pounds.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have married someone who came from money.

All the better to get clients in so the stable was actually making some money instead of just bleeding cash in exchange for more horses. And this was where the trouble began. Because Dream may have been disagreeable around people but he had a soft spot for troubled horses. And when troubled horses intersected with the clients that made them that way, well. That was how they got this.

“I was led to believe I’d be getting results,” Roderick Burgess was saying as Hob stepped into the arena, leaning against the wall to watch Dream ride. “Surely an Olympian should be able to do better.”

Hob grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything, yet. Dream could handle himself.

“If you don’t like my methods, you’re free to take your horse elsewhere,” Dream said. He was trotting the horse—its name was Ruby—in a big circle at the far end of the ring, riding on a long rein, just trying to get it to bend and loosen up its neck. It didn’t seem to be particularly easy for the horse, which was troubling considering a horse that had had ‘a few years’ of training—according to Roderick—should be able to at least do basic flatwork. And should be less stiff about it besides.

“We both know that won’t happen,” said Roderick. He was probably right—now that Dream was starting to get a sense of the horse’s poor prior training, he wouldn’t want to send it elsewhere—but Hob nevertheless wanted to walk over to Roderick and toss him out of the ring. Wasn’t the point of owning your own place that you could kick out clients you didn’t like?

“Perhaps if you’d been honest about his issues, we’d have better results,” Dream said, turning across the middle of the circle to change the bend. Ruby tossed his head, struggling with the change in direction, but Dream persisted in asking him to bend and eventually got him to drop his head again, now stepping up into a canter. “I was promised a horse at at least third level yet you’ve brought me one that struggles with basic self-carriage.”

Hob thought expecting any results yet was unreasonable considering it was only the first time Dream had even gotten on the horse. He’d only gotten it in last week, and just lunged it yesterday.

“You have to be more aggressive with him,” said Roderick dismissively. “Just make him do it.”

“Am I paying you, or are you paying me?”

And on it went like that, Dream working through his usual regimen, slowly building up the difficulty, Roderick nitpicking and criticizing all the while. Hob didn’t know what he really wanted. Maybe he just got a kick out of being an asshole.

Hob did love watching Dream ride, though. Watching him work with an inexperienced horse wasn’t nearly as seamless as it was when he rode Jessamy, but his patience and light touch were always a delight to behold.

Dream eventually took up his reins, gauging the horse’s ability to go around in a more collected frame. That ability was dubious at best, but Dream kept at it, working in circles of various sizes, transitioning up and down the gaits. He would get the horse where it needed to be eventually, Hob knew. If Roderick didn’t keep interrupting with unreasonable demands.

“Are you going to do any lateral work at all?” asked Roderick with annoyance, predictably interrupting again, and Hob could almost hear Dream’s jaw clench.

“Yes, I am getting to it. It’s a horse, not a racecar.” He turned the horse down the quarter line, lightly brushing the end of his whip, which Hob hadn’t seen him use yet, against its flank to ask it to step sideways and under.

And at the first touch of the whip Ruby exploded.

If Hob had looked down for even a second he would not have seen it move, it was so fast—the horse bolted sideways away from the whip, head thrown up, legs scrambling. Dream pulled back hard on the left rein, trying to stop through a turn, but Ruby just plowed right through it, tossing its head. Hob heard the bang as they—or more likely Dream’s knee—hit the arena wall, and then Dream yanked harder and managed to turn, spinning the horse into a circle until it was forced by the tight angle to slow to a nervy walk.

Hob had automatically lurched forward to try to help, but realized fast enough that rushing over would only make things worse. He watched, tense, as Dream finally brought Ruby to a halt. A lesser rider would have been thrown; Hob was glad Dream’s seat was better than that.

“Ah, yes,” said Roderick nonchalantly from where he was still sitting, ankle crossed over his knee. “He does not enjoy the whip.”

“Were you planning to inform me of that,” said Dream, out of breath, “before or after we went through a wall?”

“I would have thought you could handle it,” Roderick said.

Hob kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he went over to Dream.

Ruby was standing stock still now, breathing hard, and let out a loud huff, nostrils flaring, as Hob stopped at Dream’s side. Dream scratched the horse’s neck.

“Are you alright?” Hob asked quietly.

Dream nodded, handing the whip to Hob, though his expression was pinched, and Hob worried for his knee. “Once more and then we’ll be done. I don’t want to end on that note.”

“You cannot let him get away with that,” said Roderick sternly, seeing Hob take Dream’s whip. “He must tolerate the whip.”

“And I’m sure persisting now will teach that effectively,” Dream bit back. “Do you want an explosive horse, Roderick? Because that is what you have handed me, and if you insist upon pushing the matter like this, you will only make it worse.”

“I hired you to fix it,” Roderick snapped.

“Then let me.”

Dream brought the horse back up to a trot, did a lap around the ring and then came down the quarter line again, this time asking him to leg yield over just by bending him around his leg. Ruby was tense now, jiggling the bit in his mouth and fighting Dream’s hand, but he did move over, and once they’d reached the wall Dream let him drop back down to a walk, letting his grip on the reins slide down to the buckle. Ruby snorted loudly, dropping his head to the floor as he walked anxiously on the long rein.

“You do not have to beat him to get what you want,” Dream said, turning to Roderick.

“You care too much about their feelings,” said Roderick dismissively.

“Not caring about their feelings has gotten you very far indeed,” Dream said back.

He halted the horse by Hob and hopped down, stumbling on the landing and leaning hard on his left leg. Shit. Hob knew he’d hit the wall. Goddammit, Dream.

Before Hob could take the horse from him, Roderick’s kid, Alex, crept into the arena and came over, eyeing his father as he did. Normally Hob considered Alex kind of a liability to have around the farm—he was convinced the kid was going to get himself kicked in the head at some point—but now he handed him the reins. It was Roderick’s horse, the two of them could deal with it right now.

“Make sure to walk him out,” Hob told Alex, and then, ignoring Roderick, who’d already focused on Alex, presumably to berate him for something, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist and led him out of the ring.

By the time they made it into the lounge, Dream was leaning heavily against Hob’s side, limping on his right leg. God, Hob hoped he hadn’t broken something. He could only imagine how long that sort of knee injury would take Dream out.

Hob sat him down on the couch. “Can I take a look at your knee?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dream said, even as the corners of his lips were still pressed tight in pain.

“Dream, I heard you hit the wall from the other side of the arena.”

Dream sighed, but finally started unzipping his boots.

“Breeches, too,” Hob said.

Dream gave him a look but, having removed his boots, started stripping off his socks and black riding pants as well. He looked small like that, perched on the couch in just his black boxer briefs and short-sleeve polo. Hob winced at the sight of his knee. It had already turned horribly purple from his impact with the wall. Hob crouched by him to look closer, taking Dream’s ankle in his hands, turning his leg this way and that, carefully testing the motion. “How much does it hurt?”

“Tolerable,” Dream said, watching Hob intently. Hob mentally increased all of Dream’s descriptions by several degrees of pain. “I don’t think anything is broken, or sprained.”

Having looked closer, Hob didn’t think so either; he was pretty sure it was just bruised. A nasty bruise, though. “Should keep off it for a few days, though.”

Dream sighed, put upon, but didn’t contradict him.

“I’ll get you some ice.” He had ice wraps in the freezer, and pulled one out, laying it over Dream’s knee.

Dream’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “That is for horses.”

“Well, now it’s for humans, too.” He sat beside Dream on the couch as he iced his poor knee. “We should get it checked out if it’s not any better by tomorrow. Don’t want to risk permanent damage.”

Dream touched Hob’s shoulder with light fingers. Hob was, unfortunately, speaking from experience on this matter. Though in his case it had been less ‘deciding not to get it checked out’ and more ‘completely obliterating the joint to the point that it was kind of moot.’ Hob had shown Dream the video of that fall a while back. It was not a pleasant video.

He still had a mostly functional shoulder, though.

Fortunately, Hob didn’t usually have to worry about that happening with Dream. Having a horse flip on top of you was the kind of thing that was more likely to happen when you decided it was a good idea to gallop at solid objects. Which Hob had done. Frequently.

He was kind of glad he hadn’t married a fellow adrenaline junkie.

“I can’t believe Roderick put you on that horse knowing it was going to react like that,” Hob said. He really should kick the guy out. Prick.  

“Roderick created that reaction,” said Dream. “He hardly cares if it gets someone thrown, so long as that someone is not him.”

“I care!” Hob exclaimed. “It’s our fucking stable. He can’t just use you as a crash-test dummy.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “I am not easy to crash.”

“That’s not the point, Dream. I’ll kick him out, I swear to God.”

“I can handle Roderick Burgess. And the horse. You needn’t protect me.”

“Maybe I want to,” said Hob. He took the ice off Dream’s knee and took another look at it. The bruise only looked more hideous. “Maybe part of being your husband is that I get to protect you.”

Dream touched his cheek fondly, but said, “If we send him away, he will only take the horse to someone else, and nothing will improve.”

Hob knew it was true. He would have just bought the horse and given it to Dream just to get Roderick off the property, but he was pretty sure Roderick would just take the money and go buy another one so that wouldn’t really accomplish anything in the end.

Hob was always going to end up doing what made Dream happy anyway.

“Just…” he rubbed Dream’s thigh, careful of the bruise. “Be careful. God only knows what else he’s taught that horse to do.”

“We will find out, I suppose. Roderick will not be happy with me, though. I intend to take the horse back down to basics. He will doubtless be furious.” He did sound somewhat satisfied by the thought of it.

“Roderick can get on the damn thing himself if he’s so upset,” Hob said.

“That would be entertaining to watch, though less so for the horse,” Dream said. “Perhaps he will make Alex ride it.”

Hob rubbed his forehead in despair. “God help us all.”

“Indeed.”

“You should go back to the house and rest a while,” Hob told him.

“First I want to make sure they haven’t managed to kill Ruby,” Dream said. He levered himself to his feet, handing Hob back the ice wrap. “Besides, I am fine.”

The way he limped about while pulling on his breeches and paddock boots belied that, but Hob knew better than to argue further. At least he wasn’t getting back on the horse.

He went with Dream—only limping a little bit now—out to the barn, where Alex was getting Ruby settled in his stall. Alex looked distinctly nervous brushing the horse down, but hadn’t managed to get it—or, more surprisingly, himself—killed yet, which Hob counted as a win. Roderick was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best.

“Did you walk him out?” Dream asked.

Alex nodded anxiously. He seemed intimidated by Dream—which, to be fair, was a common experience for most people. Hob frequently had to remind himself that the version of Dream he saw every day—curled up in the kitchen alcove with his tea and a cat on his lap, chasing his ponies around the barn, resting his head in Hob’s lap for Hob to play with his hair—was not the version most people saw.

Ruby seemed little worse for wear for his ordeal. Dream pet the horse’s nose fondly, and it tried to nibble at his palm.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, to the horse, now ignoring Alex. “We’ll sort it out, won’t we?”

Ruby just tried to nibble on his fingers again.

With another pat to the horse’s nose, but no more words for Alex, Dream strode away again. Hob followed. Once they were out of the barn, he caught up to Dream and scooped him up in his arms, Dream clutching at his neck with a squeak.

“I’m carrying you home,” Hob said, starting off for the house. “You’re not walking.”

“I am not an invalid,” Dream protested.

“Oh, I should put you down, then?”

Dream clutched at him tighter. “You would not dare.”

“Thought so.”

And so he carried Dream down the short walk back to the house. After all, Hob thought, this was the whole point. He couldn’t necessarily prevent Dream from getting on insane horses or dealing with insane clients. But he could be there at the end of the day to carry him home.

[zours025]

Zombie apocalypse face au I've been thinking of...

Thoughts/details on the AU and an alt color vers of the first drawing (luring you into my evil cave) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Face as unrelated parties... All normal humans. Caname and fruk (separately) wandering the world after generic zombie outbreak. Theyre some of the last ones left so they rarely meet people and need to depend on the other party heavily. Blahblah its miserable everyone is sad and hurt and tired. Francis had to cut off Arthurs leg to prevent an infection. Arthur has to learn to lean on Francis for a lot of stuff and they learn to get over past grudges and such... 😇 Alfred is bitten at some point and hides it from Matthew. Matthew knows, but he's basically lost any will to live and is ready to die whenever Alfred turns because. Well. "I'm only living for him anyways..." type of sentiment... They ignore it and it's never brought up but it's like. I know you know that I know that- Anyways. So those two are trying their hardest to live out their last days in relative happiness. Doing fun stuff. Appreciating the simple things, landscapes, each other's company, etc... That is until they bump into Francis and Arthur in a totally horrible state. And it's like "Well... We can't just let them die can we? We have nothing to lose anyways." So they watch over the two and care for them and once they're all in okay health they decide to stick together and move on. But Arthur and Francis are clearly more determined to live than Mattie and Alfred and they're good fighters. So they wanna keep em around, all while hiding that Alfred is slowly dying and is eventually gonna kill them all. Milking Francis and Arthur's good will... Eventually new relationships form between the four and inevitably weird "betrayal!" and jealousy type feelings show up... Francis is tired of just sleeping with Arthur and when he gets mad he flirts with either of the twins... And the like... Well I haven't thought the whole thing through but these are the important emotional bases to the idea I guess...

I wrote a scenario for many different possibilities of first-to-dies (because i find them all interesting and bcuz twitter oomf asked and i have no restraint. lole)

Alfred dies first: Most obvious scenario (like hes already a bit zombified and clearly hes getting physically weaker) Im imagining a terrible scenario no matter what. Matthew probably finds him first all hunched over and stuff womdering whats wrong before realising that it's finally the end of the line. Francis/Arthur aren't far behind and they blow "Alfreds" head off without hesitation. Obviously causes a rift between the two and Matthew, who broke their trust by hiding this from them. Matthew is inconsolable for a few days, he thought he had more time. Despite the lie I think Francis and Arthur would end up feeling sympathy. They try to keep Matthew up on his feet but frankly I think this would end with him blowing his brains out eventually anyways... 😊

Alternatively Mattie has been mentally preparing himself for a very long time and he immediately kills "Alfred" and then himself in quick succession. Francis and Arthur are haunted by the memory of the two for the rest of their trip.

Arthur dies first: Similarly, I think its easy to imagine this. He's missing a leg and mostly needs to be near someone else to survive zombie attacks/ambushes. Would probably accidentally get separated from the group and get overrun... Might use himself as a distraction to allow the other three to get away in a particularly dire situation... In a way he thinks hes just dead weight anyways and he wants to see the other three live knowing that he doesn't have much left to offer them (Francis would disagree). Francis is obviously very upset and he loses sleep over the memory of Arthur, his last "real" link to his normal life before all of this. But I think Francis is stable enough to prioritise the twins he took under his wing. He knows they need someone to keep them together, so he toughs it out. Everything is fine till Alfred turns some many months later. By then, Francis developed a strong attachment to the two and doesn't have any regrets. Would probably struggle against Alfreds strength to allow Matthew to escape or something along those lines...

Francis dies first: I can also see him just getting killed by sheer numbers. I think he grew very fond of the twins pretty fast + had to be Arthurs protection for a long time and so he developed this feeling of "I need to keep them all safe at all costs". I don't think itd be as much of a letting go type thing as Arthur. It's more calculated and would only happen in a worst-case scenario. I think Arthur would be pretty irritable for the next few weeks, a lot of things remind him of Francis. It bothers him since he wants to just forget and move on, but he finds that his feelings are more difficult to control than he initially thought. Yells a lot at Matthew and Alfred and gets into petty fights. Its not pretty, but they have their moments... In the end, it's not like he wants to make them suffer. They're all he has left now. Hes trying his best. Has a lot of days where he just wishes he had been the one to die instead.

Matthew dies first: Honestly I'm imagining a non-zombie related death, like an accident with one of the guns or some unrelated illness or like. Falling onto a branch? Falling from high up in general? Setting off a trap? Lol idk. Something that allows Alfred to hold Matthew during his final moments or at least look into his eyes. I think hes also the most liable to flip out on everyone and just kill the four of them all together idk ❤ Crazy girl ❤ It shocks Alfred immensely. He expected to be the first one to die and he's really upset about the whole thing. Outwardly, he cracks jokes and tries to convince the other two that he's fine but he's very much not. Doesn't really know what tk do with himself. Just goes through the motions every day. Francis and Arthur notice the slight change in behaviour but don't really say anything and pretend everything is fine. Playing at being a normal family. Arthur and Francis try spending lots of time with Alfred but nothing really helps. Eventually Alfred turns without ever telling them he was infected and they all die the end. Alternatively he kills the other two and then himself on like a random Tuesday. ❤

Bonus: Everyone except Alfred dies lol. Alone in the desolate empty landscape. Welp!!! What now!!!

If you saw my first post of this text part no you didn't im editing this and putting it here with the drawing its more organised ❤ okay ❤

[gummyglasses]

"Who are you? Wh- what is your name?" - John

"Your kind brought us to extinction long before you and your written tongues. We never settled our war amongst my own people, instead we were given judgement over your kind's place. We've shepherded the way forward ever since. " - The Dancer.

"The burden was most egregious, put to mercy those that can no longer rise, allow others to perceiver a cathartic conclusion, or let it stand that it may show an offering of transcendental understanding?" - The Dancer

"As for my name? In your formality it was 'poorly dances', my children inherited my clumsy way of walking that my 'betters' did not have. In my language it simply means 'the one who broke his foot'. And we use to hunt together before your kind left the yellow and grass world." - The Dancer

"... And, but you'll spare me another chance? Who is she? She only comes to me as an old friend in my dreams." - John

"She is MY old rival's niece, as you would put it. Killed by your ancestors' rudimentary tools when our people could no longer make babies." - The Dancer

"But I feel you're heart is in the right place... you idiot. So I will take her's and let it rest, whilst you keep trying to bring kindness to this hateful world. And no, you will not succeed." - The Dancer

"Well that's what I'm good at, a failure. Thank you, for everything and anything. If you'll keep me, just until the end of the year? I think I'm finally getting through to this one student." - John

"...I can do that, we'll meet again when it is done." - The Dancer

"You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"I've cheated Death many times already. I don't believe she'll let me get away with it again."

"She will if I don't give her a choice."

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha. 

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

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time. 

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now. 

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet. 

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to. 

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his. 

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway? 

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel. 

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance. 

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not. 

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying. 

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest. 

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable. 

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside. 

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head. 

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something. 

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated? 

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.” 

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor. 

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting. 

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness. 

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck. 

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch. 

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp. 

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek. 

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

[nothingbutspacedebris]

"They didn't used to be like this."

Misha kicks his legs, swinging them over the edge of the rooftop. Sofia, next to him, swings more jarringly, even if just to keep the two of them in time.

They're talking about Helios again. It seems they're all the two of them talk about these days.

"But they are now. Don't you think you deserve to have something more?"

"What, like you?" Misha winces as the words leave his mouth. "I didn't mean-"

"I know."

Their relationship is nothing like it used to be when they were kids, and that's probably for the best. But the line they walk now is uneasy friendship, with all the pitfalls that come from being bitter exes, then enemies, then allies, before rekindling into anything remotely friendly. They swing wildly between quiet, comfortable companionship shared on nights like tonight, and sharp comments that shine a light on the work they still need to do.

"I don't 'have' Helios, Sofia," Misha says, making air quotes around "have" in a way that suggests he's trying, very hard, to appear derisive and detached.

"They're in your life, though." Sofia turns to look at Misha, tucks one knee up under her chin. "And that's great. It's what you wanted. But I can't help but think..."

"Oh, not thinking's pretty easy."

He's aiming for lightness, for brevity, but even Misha knows the joke's fallen flat.

"I can't help but think," Sofia pushes on, "that this isn't what you wanted. Not really."

Misha says nothing.

"You said it yourself. They didn't used to be like this. You deserve better."

"You think this isn't better? You think better is when I knew, in my heart, every time they looked at me, that they resented me? You think better was living in secret because the one person I love is the one person who can never know? My relationship with Helios now is exactly what I deserve. It's what they deserve. It's not perfect, and it's going to take time, but it's not a lie. It's not seething resentment. It's..."

He trails off. Sofia doesn't reply. Standard, these days. Misha sighs.

"I'm sorry. This was supposed to be a chill night. I shouldn't have brought it up. I just... They're different. And I don't know how to... to... to be around them now."

"I don't think any of us know how to be around each other right now," Sofia says quietly. Misha knows she means it generally - that they're learning how to be friends, how to exist in the same space, but it still brings the sharp sting of rejection when she stands.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mishka."

Writing Prompt #2867

"He didn't used to be like this."

"But he is now. Don't you think you deserve something more?"