#red experiences cw

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[ivysangel]

Jason as a nibbler, a neck biter, a vampire. Not literally, he doesn't need blood to survive, no, but the way his mouth somehow always finds your neck, always finds a way to catch his teeth on your carotid, you'd think he did.

He comes up behind you so innocently sometimes, his hands ghosting over your hips and his hair tickling your jaw. His beautiful, soft, jet-black hair that is so quickly replaced with sharp nips of his teeth. You pull away, pushing his head back with your hand, and he groans; what did I do, his eyes say when he lifts his head to look at you. "You're biting me." you point to the teeth marks on your neck, indents a little deeper where his canines were. "I'm loving you."

You patiently wait for the day he gets carried away and accidentally draws blood, the day when the permissiveness of your flesh gives way to this indulgent behavior of his. He'll nose at the tiny droplets of blood collecting around the puncture wounds, licking and laving as a pool of iron collects on his tongue. Pulling away, looking like a wolf who's just devoured its prey, with blood smeared on the tip of his nose and his pupils blown wide.

He'd tasted blood before when he'd punched too hard, when he'd been punched too hard; the taste was always bitter in his mouth, too metallic, and always lingering long after he'd washed it away with water, but not yours. No, yours was welcome, just as bitter and metallic but also sweet? Comforting? Welcome? Yes, welcome. He'd welcomed you into his life a multitude of times, made room for you in places he'd previously thought to be too cramped. In his home, in his mind, in his heart, but the one place he could never figure out how to integrate you was his body.

Of course, he'd had sex with you, let you touch him in ways he had never been touched before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but it would never be the same for him as it was for you. You could never be inside of him the way he was inside of you. He thought he'd never know how it felt to walk around with ghosts of you inside of him the way you did when he came too deep or stretched you out too much. He thought he'd never know what it felt like to carry a part of his lover around with him outside of a material object. Now, he knew otherwise; he knew there was an alternative—a painful, bloody alternative—but an alternative nonetheless.

[lastchr1stmas]

[artcake]

[suchafuckingriot]

Wilbur Soot as an abuser

cw, physical abuse, graphic descriptions of physical abuse

this analysis seeks to break down the supposed type of abuser wilbur is for the purpose of showing people what abusers can look like and why they do it the way they do. especially in this instance, where it can feel ambiguous or exaggerative to call that person an abuser when you’re in a relationship with them. WARNING: this post will be uncomfortable and sad to read. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

first and foremost, go watch shelby’s stream. she said exactly what she wanted to say and she said it very well, and i’m not going to synthesize it. additionally, the only reason i feel comfortable writing this in the first place is because i’ve experienced the exact same thing, bites and all. because of that fact, some of this information might be biased towards my own experiences, but know that this essay is not about wilbur as much as it is about this one type of abuser. this is not drama or gossip like usual, it is meant to be educational and give awareness to a covert type of abuse that is often hard to recognize, a type of abuse that i know and understand. it is also meant to explain why it happens, as i’ve seen a LOT of questions about “why biting?”. remember, wilbur is just our poster boy in this instance. you could swap his name out with any other, he’s just who sparked the discussion this time. anyways,

How it Starts

remember my post from a while ago about wilbur and manic pixie dream girls? (if someone could send it to me i’d like to reblog it) there is a simple process to wilbur’s attraction to women:

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it fails -> spiral into self loathing bender -> (“update me on your life and now you’ve found the one, but i don’t like his eyes…”)

or

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it works -> oh wait she’s not special to me anymore -> she’s supposed to be special -> but she’s special i cant not like her she’s such a catch -> she loves me and i hate her -> i’m in love with the fact that she loves me -> (“you’re just so painfully punctual, i’m starting to get bored”)

and here we get to what happened with shelby.

she was his childhood crush. she is also petite, beautiful, very cutesy, giggles, is very sweet, has a distinct personal style, is SHUBBLE. to name a few things. she is a perfect dream girl for wilbur to chase.

wilbur catches her -> he loses interest -> the ego boost and additional benefits from dating shelby is so great that he values her status as his girlfriend above her as a person -> she is still a person with relationship needs -> he lashes out at her in seemingly innocent ways in attempt to satisfy both his ego and the needs of a relationship. which brings us to

Biting/“Playful” Injury

love bites are a fairly common form of affection. the important distinction to make is that they are usually gentle, and done by someone because they know it’s silly. it’s a human thing to do. a very common question i’ve seen: why did he bite her?

because when you are in a relationship with someone you resent (as shelby said) and you get the inclination to physically harm them, you know you can’t. this is obviously bad, and wilbur knows it’s bad, so he picks something that can be turned into a joke. wilbur is a known biter. this gives him a justification that shelby will take and so will everyone else that sees it happen, especially since his mom backed it up.

the bites serve to

-allow him to hurt her without feeling guilty

-affirm his ego that she’ll stay with him even if he treats her poorly

-provide a visible marker to other people that she is “his”, further affirming his ego

the bites being in her skin allowed people to see them and she’d be forced to explain that he was the one that did it, he could show them off himself if they were together, they could be passed off as a silly joke, and he got the satisfaction of hurting her under a “safe” pretense. especially because he set up a safeword, he got to justify in his head that he was not a bad guy or abusive for doing this. the bites are a mark of possession, like a brand. it’s gratifying that he’s the only person that gets to do this to her.

there is also something… attractive? romantic? about how much someone will endure for you. this type of abuser loves to stress test how much you’ll take from them before breaking. they feel validated that you’re willing to do that for them, so even if he had to stop doing it on her arms and move to her legs instead, it was still gratifying that she would take it.

one question i saw a lot: is it a sex thing? not necessarily. it could be, but in this case and in my own experience i don’t think it is. i don’t think it sexually gratifies them, just fuels their ego.

i would also like to add, biting is not the only way this can happen. here are a few more examples of covert physical abuse, from my own experiences because that’s the best way to word them:

my ex would “crack my knuckles”, meaning bend my fingers a dangerous amount until they forcefully popped, framed as an inside joke

"playfully" shove me, making sure to do it hard enough that i was knocked into a wall and would hit my head

pinch bruises into my ribs so they would hurt when i laughed

back to shelby/wilbur, her story of him pinning her down and asking her to try to push him off, then gloating when she couldn’t

i just think it’s worth noting: shelby wanting to be a bunny on origins smp, then wilbur modifying her lore saying she was a bunny until he killed her because he was lonely and wanted another ghost around. that shit was not normal

i would also like to add, often the person being hurt in this scenario does express that they are being hurt, that they do not like it, and that they don’t want it to keep happening. the abuser will dismiss it because the ways they harm you are “a joke”, or they may set up a safe word or fake apology or negotiation in attempt to placate you. or they will guilt trip you. know that almost never are any remedies they try to provide you genuine. you will not fix your relationship. they do not care about you, they care that you satisfy their ego. they want to harm you, and they will not stop.

if you suspect you may be in this situation, get out of it. nobody deserves to be hurt by their own partner or be made to feel resented by their own partner. research all of the different types of abuse, and figure out the best solution for your situation. like shelby said, she was the one that broke up with him, which is the case for a lot of these scenarios. i pulled the trigger in my own relationship. it might be scary, or not feel right, but if you can come to the conclusion that your situation isn’t right, you can leave it too.

wishing everyone happiness, health, and healing,

-riot

(p.s. in the tags)

[starryybrained]

Also, bonus question, does what role the character play affect how you feel about their death or if they were to die? For example, a whumper dying vs a whumpee dying or a caretaker dying

[enniewritesathing]

👁️

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

Hm. Ari Finch ballad brothers was NOT supposed to have this much in common with me gamers what the fuck

[lunarscaled]

-> Lyric knew, in the reality, that this had not slain him. They knew that. Knew no matter how realistic he may have made it feel—blood in their nose and staining their shirt, the grip of the handle of the knife heavy in their hands, the way his muscle and bone cracked and squelched every time they sank it's blade in again and again and again—that this is all just like a hazy dream. A nightmare. Knew it the moment the chain of their blessed necklace snagged and popped apart and sent the charmed pendant rolling, the opening he was always waiting for, the moments they were no longer protected and could keep him away. He snapped shut around them like an alligator's jaws; Lyric had no grounding if this was real, or a hallucination, or some amalgamation of the two made to torture them.

And it does feel like torture. The high of feeling they might be free of him is so potent and brief—Icarus near the sun just before his wings fall apart.

-> They can't even bring themselves to feel disappointment or defeat. As their chest heaves and they hold the bloody knife in both hands, they are instead trembling when his eerie voice speaks from the corpse. When his empty eyes turn fresh again and the mass at their feet deforms. When he sets a hand on their shoulder, too long to feel human, and the chill of his dead self leaves shivers running down their spine when he leans closer to their ear. ( they want to turn the knife on their own throat instead. they think about it, and then think he'd get too much satisfaction from it, and then think he may do something worse just to keep them in his claws. horrifically unpredictable—they think his sadism has no end to it. they press the blade of the knife to their gut and wish it was more comfort. )

"Leave—"

-> Their voice cracks out, mouth shaking, body rigid from the fear he creates. They fear that he may seize them from behind and wrap his hand around their throat, fit just right, and watch them choke until their voice is hoarse and non-existent but never until they pass out or perish. ( they fear he may do something even worse that plagues on their fragile mentality, still not sure what is real. where is real. were they even real? was this? were they having a nightmare right now? )

"Leave me alone...!"

@groazei from ask.

[animeluver34]

Uh-oh! Looks like our contestant is running out of Slime!

[vampiric-calls]

[mayra-quijotescx]

In the United States, it's very commonly the case that a menu item listed as spicy is only 'spicy' in that it has spices in it, not as in 'it exceeds a given Scoville heat threshold'. As a result, oftentimes someone with relatively low spice tolerance can get something with a pepper next to its name on the menu, and merely experience something flavorful with very little heat (which can always be added in later, at least.)

Halal Guys is not one of those places.

They know they use spices in all their food already, if you order hot sauce in there (or if they think you ordered hot sauce because let's face it, between the fridge humming and the grill sizzling, who can hear anything?) you are getting *hot* sauce and whatever happens next is between you and God. Who you might see about three bites in, if your spice tolerance is comparative to mine (low).

[prettysuper]

Kon kept quiet the entire ride there, feeling confusion hit him as it slowly dawned on him where they were headed. Metropolis? Why there? The Tower? It just got more confusing. Why didn't he ask Kon to just fly them there? He could have been there within minutes. He followed Timothy's lead, uncharacteristically quiet, trying to give the other man breathing space to get whatever it was he needed to off his chest.

"Oh, Tim-" Kon began upon hearing about Bart's death, having been completely clueless, only to close his mouth again, as Timothy asked for him to just listen. Listen, right. He could do that. That's what friends did. They listened to each other. Kon reached forward to take his hand, only for Timothy to pull his fingers away and hold his hand up in a 'wait' gesture. Shit, there's more? Kon swallowed hard, already wondering what it had cost Tim. Had he spilt blood? A frown began to crease his lips. It seemed like each level the elevator sank, the more his heart followed it.

Still he kept his silence; even if it was agony listening to Tim replay his grief, being unable to touch him, unable to hold him close and reassure him, with the whisper of 'I don't care what you did, I'm here now'. But then Tim said it wasn't his first attempt to save him. And he could feel, as well as hear glass crunching beneath their feet. Superhuman eyes adjusted quickly as they went down the stairs, taking in the scene he'd seen previously played out in one of Timothy's dreams. A cold laboratory -similar to the one he grew up in - only this time it was broken and fallen into almost disrepair; mingled with Timothy's words of 'trying to create' him, it didn't take a super-genius to figure out what had happened here. Kon felt himself grow sick, horror creeping over his features as he felt his world begin to crumble apart. Timothy had attempted to clone him. A wave of stupidity rushed over him - he'd always thought the other man saw him as something more than that, something human, someone irreplaceable. But here he was, face to face with the fact that Timothy had seen him just as interchangeable as Lex and everybody else. A series of cells, a genetic sequence and nothing else. Eyes heating up, it took all of Kon's energy to focus on not shooting lasers. "Don't." His voice growled, curled with an underlying rage that was building inside his body like a crescendo. "I don't want to HEAR-"

But before he had the chance to finish his sentence, the ground shook violently; his subconscious at it's limit, telekinesis tearing a fault line across the entire city. Realising the sound of the building beginning to collapse, brick by brick - Superboy did the only thing he knew how. He grabbed Tim by the wrist - no longer caring or having the time to be gentle and flew upwards; laser eyes burning through the debris as it began to fall ontop of them. As soon as they were above ground, Superboy darted to the side taking Tim just clear of the zone of the crushing fall out. He let him go, perhaps a touch too harshly, Tim's body skidding across the ground from the speed. "Make yourself useful or get out of here!" Kon snarled as aftershocks of the Earthquake he'd accidentally created still rippled the ground. No time for self-pity right now. Kon zoomed into the distance, immediately headed for the nearest high-rise to help rescue civilians caught in the crossfire of his emotions. That was the last Tim would see of him, except for the zipping of helping civilians to safety, throughout the next several hours as a city-wide search began amongst the buildings worst hit, looking for survivors. If Tim stayed to help, Superboy wouldn't intervene but he wouldn't be returning to that studio. He'd refuse to so much as look him in the eye whenever their paths crossed, zooming back into the sky before Tim had the chance to try and grab his attention again.

Settled on the stool, his plate was being assembled when Kon-El floated over and sat on his lap, a grunt given at the weight of that lovely rear settling in his lap. Arms had pulled up, suddenly wrapping around Kon-El to reach his plate of food and manually cut his eggs up around Kon-El’s body. It was torture, Timothy promised himself today would not become physical until he did what he had to, but the temptation of bare flesh was hard to resist. Just when he thought he had control and shoved a fork into his own mouth as Kon-El TK, fed himself, that face leaned forward once his bite as swallowed to press lips to Kon-El’s shoulder as the hand around his back shifted to stroke up that spine, loving how firm it was yet it gave a small bow at the touches.

His breakfast was consumed faster, leaving the hand that had been freed to stroke across those thighs, tempted to slid between Kon-El’s legs and touch him one more time, just for his own memory incase this went bad. He hesitated, the hand having worked its way up that thigh only to pause and shift to grab his outer thigh so he could pull him closer, lips once more to that shoulder, then neck as Kon-El rubbed the back of his nape where all that tension rested. 

One parted, Timothy did up the dishes quickly then got dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with no emblem and his own boots as he knew what would be waiting there. ‘I need to take my bike.” In case you leave me. “Want to ride with me or will you fly behind?” 

Despite the ache in his chest as anxiety built a soft smile was forced when Kon-El said he would ride with him, also keeping them low-key as they went through the streets of Bludhaven. He slipped his black helmet on and secured it as one leg lifted to climb the bike, a foot kicking up the stool before it shifted to the gear where it struck hard, sending the engine to life. He waited for Kon- El to sit behind him and wrap those arms around his middle, no helmet to offer but knowing the man could protect himself if they crashed. The other foot rose as they eased forward and into the main lane.

The streets were less crowded as more people had already settled into work for the day. Timothy did have classes later, but they would have to wait until they had to be done. It was his only chance to do so for a while. It took thirty-two minutes to get to the Titan Tower at Metropolis. That time was used with one hand over Kon-El’s, holding it tight to his chest as he begged mentally for the man behind him to understand, to forgive him. 

They had to go around back so no civilians saw Timothy enter, the helmet remained until they were inside the tower but instead of going up, they went down. As it began to move, his helmet was removed, a hand going through that messy hair as eyes found Kon-El. “This is not going to be easy for either of us. I am not showing you this lightly. You wanted to know what happened to us during the time you were gone and the truth is, we crumbled. Bart was killed not long after, Cassie found her own ways to cope though they would not be considered healthy and I.. Conner,  shit. This is harder than I thought it would be.” His eyes fell, looking to the metal floor as the levels dinged away. “Just give me a minute to get this out and listen, please.”

“Thought I had all the answers as I always do and used my intelligence for selfish needs. I went to Ra's al Ghul for a while. It was stupid, but he promised me that I could overcome death. Your death, to be more specific. I knew what the Lazarus pit would do for you; it had brought back a few before. It cost me, as the deal with a devil always does.”  Timothy would not go into details about what Ra’s attempted to take for his bloodline because this was not about Timothy. It was about Kon-El.

And that was after the failed attempts. The story was backward as the elevator doors dinged. They had one more level to go down, but they needed to use a different way. Timothy led the way out, moving to another door that his finger had to press on to unlock. His back to Kon-El as he continued. “After you died, I was living in regrets about the time I over looked with you. The hospital and how I treated you was like a knife that stayed stuck in my back that I could not reach to pull out. That was not the first attempt I made to save you. To bring you back.”

Down the stairs they went, in the dark dim lights that barely showed where they were until the sound of glass crunched under their feet. Timothy knew Kon-El would see before he spoke up for the computer to load the lights as he turned to Kon-El. All the regret in his eyes when he confessed. 

“I lost myself after losing everyone else in the span of a month or two. I could not keep losing people, Conner. It broke something in me and I felt that you were the one person I could get back in my desperation. The one I had the most regrets about.” The lights came on slowly, revealing the broken giant tube beside them where the glass remained under their boots, the many computers with a wide range of numbers and failed attempts on the screen, along with the pod and other empty tubes. In one glass display, much like the bat family did for their fallen, was Kon-Els' suit identical to the one he was wearing, along with the glasses and jacket. “I did not hide my devastation before you went out there to die. In fact, you saw it when I begged you not to go, for us to find a better way and I was not numb about it. That did not go away because you died. It festered, grew, and consumed me. In my grief, I attempted to ‘create’ you again. And failed. The dreams are exaggerated from my truth. None of the cells ever made it to that stage.” But it haunted him every night during that time, and even after that, had it succeeded, it would have been horrific.

All those emotions rattled inside of him as if stepping back into this space put a heavy strain on the gates he had sealed them behind. That face, sad and lonely, remained staring at Kon-El, waiting before he said his last piece at the silence. His heart was racing in that cage of bone and muscle, uncertainty clawing at his throat so his voice changed, grew softer and wavered. “I missed you so much and isolated myself until the madness took over. I am so sorry, Conner.”

Emotions continued to be held back but it was showing in those sad eyes that grew glossy and red. Being back here dredged up all those old emotions, all the pain, sadness, grief, regret, rage, and defeat.

[cheesit-notes]

TASK FORCE 141

and how they fuck you

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, rough fucking, raw dogging it, riding (cowgirl), finger fucking, slow ghost, thigh riding, fucking in front of recruits a/n: teehee pls don't ban me for this Tumblr, this is 18+

soap who likes fucking you rough, and even rougher when in front of the recruits. not really into condoms, likes it raw kinda guy you know? don't worry, he'll do tons of foreplay for you. kisses trail from your face down to your thighs. will get down on his knees to eat you out, and mind you, he's as good as he says. he honestly forgets about any forms and sorts of dirty talk at this point because he's too busy, your moans do most of the talking. by the time you're ready, he's already superr impatient. his pants strained and he's leaking precum like a faucet, he's been so patient up until now so he feels like he deserves a reward. his reward being he gets to ram his cock into you with little to no warning^^ if you think being fucked hard and rough is the end of it, you're wrong. he's a cocky fucker, he'll fuck you in front of the recruits just to show them who's better.

gaz who has you ride him, cowgirl style. you could be on the couch in the common area or in his barracks on the bed, doesn’t matter. he’ll sit there and watch as you do all the work. at first you’re doing so well and he’s praising you for it but after a while, you start to get tired :( poor you. he knows when you’re slowing down and he can get soo mean. a hand on your hip as he instructs you to go faster, harder, until he has you slammed down, bottoming out in you. the entire time, he’s spitting out insults about how you can’t do something as simple as riding him properly. cums inside you, sticky hot white cum drips down your thighs as you try to get up before his hands force you down on him again. he’s just trying to keep the cum where it belongs so let him fuck it back into you, yeah?

ghost who, surprisingly, likes fucking you slow. really slow. so slow in fact you start begging him to go faster. it feels like he’s teasing you with how little he’s giving you, but he’s enjoying it. there’s two position you’re in: on your knees taking him from behind with his hand on your stomach, or on your back with his thumb pressed over your abdomen. has at least a finger over your stomach to feel the bulge as he slides in and out. shit gets him high. calls you his little doll ‘cause you’re honestly just laying there letting him do whatever. he cums just from feeling the bulge that’s his cock in your stomach. even after he’s all soft, he’ll still shove some fingers in. he’ll curl his fingers and they’re so big and fat, and god, even his fingers stretch you out. this’ll go on for hours until you’re a babbling crying mess who came just from some fingers. he’s got all the time in the world to play with his doll.

captain price who’s a more hands-off kinda guy. he won’t even fuck you until you’ve cum from riding his thigh. making a mess over his pants as your legs tremble from the sensation. shoves toys in your cunt in the morning, “quiet, i’know you can take it”, so by nighttime you’ll be all wet for him! he’s not rough like soap, and not slow like ghost, he’s just normal fucking. not too rough, not too slow, just right. trust, he’s got tons of experience so he knows how to please a woman. if there’s one thing to complain about, it’s his death grip on your thighs. it doesn’t stop at red markings that last for hours or days, there are bruises on your thighs that can last up to weeks. he takes making you unable to sit normally to a whole new level. price is like soap in some ways, he wants to show people that he’s superior but not as obvious as soap. he won’t fuck you in front of the recruits, but you will be riding his thigh during briefings with the team.

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day ten

oscar piastri - breeding kink

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, established relationship, marriage, gentle sex, praise kink, mating press position, dirty talk, aftercare, tenderness & romance

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

mrs. piastri was a title that made you blush. even after being married for over a year, you still felt the heat in your cheeks. you were happy to be married to your best friend.

even though you met by chance, when you spilled your ice coffee all over his lap and you begged to pay for the cleaning. almost on your knees because you felt so guilty! but oscar played it very cool and simply suggested that you could pay for dinner.

your career and his racing kept the two of you busy for extended periods of time. but in recent months you had felt the tickle in your gut when you thought about you two expanding your little family.

you knew that you two were not getting any younger, and the idea of having a child with oscar made you feel almost excited. to share the experience with someone who cared about you so deeply. you brought it up over dinner and you watched oscar get pink in the ears.

"a baby?" he asked.

you looked down at your dinner, "yes. i want to start a family with you. but there's no pressure or anything!"

he leaned back in his seat a little and looked away for a moment. he went more red in the face as he admitted, "no. no. i'd love to, i'm just worried i might lose it if given the chance."

"lose it?" you asked.

he looked at you and replied, "my breeding kink... remember?"

your eyes went wide for a moment as you remembered exactly why you always had condoms on hand. oscar piastri, your loving husband who knew everything about you. from your favourite flower to how you liked your steak cooked. had a massive breeding kink.

you assumed that the kink and his desire to have children weren't one in the same. you didn't want to make assumptions, but him putting them together made your face grow hot. you should've guessed.

"i just held off from wanting to get you pregnant until i got your consent. and we agreed that we wanted to start a family. i wasn't going to baby trap you or anything!" he said, "it takes two to tango."

you both sat in an embarrassed silence for a moment before you said, "well, oscar jack piastri." you stood up in your chair. your face still burned as you continued, "let's make a baby then."

your forwardness had your husband standing up from the table as well. now that your desires were verbalized, oscar didn't want to waste any time. there were numerous times when he was alone with his thoughts in hotel rooms across the globe, that he thought about you pregnant.

he thought about you pregnant with his child. you'd be such a good mother to them. oscar wanted the three of you to be a proper family. he yearned for it, but kept his desired hidden for fear of 'forcing' you into a situation you didn't want to be in. a child was a big step and he didn't want it unless you were onboard too. marriage was a partnership.

you were thankful that the conversation only came up after you had finished dinner and were splitting some cheesecake that you bought from the store. it was left on the table in favour of the bedroom. for oscar to get a feel of his beloved wife.

you barely made it to the bed before oscar's hands were on the waist of your pants. he pulled them off of you, admiring your lower half. your strong thighs that still had a bit of softness to them. he loved your thighs, and while he'd love to kiss them while you smothered him with them. his brain was focused on one thing.

breeding his beloved wife.

the more he undressed you, the deeper his brain fell into the kink. and the hotter he got. his cock strained in his jeans, only finding relief when he got them off and onto the floor near the bed. he eyed you as you got your bra off hastily.

he swallowed back pleasure and you admired his features.

"what's on your mind, my handsome husband?" you asked as you rubbed your thighs together. you still wore the cute cotton panties with the printed roses on them. you left them on for your husband to take off.

"i don't want to scare you off." he said as he got closer to you, "i'm afraid i'll say something wrong." he admitted a little sheepishly.

you laid out on the bed under him and gazed up at him, "oh, don't worry about that." you smiled, "i don't think anything could scare me off at this point. i know too much about you, my dear." you watched him eye you up and down with such tenderness.

he grabbed you by the hips and lifted them to meet his cock. he rubbed himself up against you and exhaled deeply. he could feel the pleasure in his gut. you looked beautiful under him. he knew that he wanted to spend a lifetime with you.

"i wanted to get you pregnant for so long. to have you be the mother to my children." he licked his lips, "the sight of you with my child, being the perfect mother to them. making me so proud. coming home to you and our kids." he felt the pleasure mount in his gut and soon he had you in a proper mating press.

your knees were at your face with your pussy exposed to your lover. you felt something stir in your gut as he got you in a position that was perfect for meeting your goal. you blushed at his words and said, "oscar."

"i know. i know. i can't help myself. i want to make you a mother so badly." his voice was a low purr by the time his cock was dragging across your achy slit.

you could feel the heat splash across your face and you hooked your hands under your knees to give yourself more balance as your husband sank his cock into you. you moaned a little bit and oscar savoured the sounds and the feeling. you felt like a dream just like you had every other time you made love.

despite the position, oscar took his time with you. he wanted to feel every inch of you. this wouldn't be a quick affair, if you were going to make a baby together. your husband wanted it to be a night to remember.

and if it took more than one night to conceive, then it would be a good few memorable nights.

he moved against you more, his cock hit against some of the softest parts of you and it made him run hot all over. you in turn felt the same way to be pressed in such a way made you feel flustered as your husband took you.

he said in a low voice, "you're going to make sure a beautiful mother to our children. you were always so good with everyone else's kids." he said his voice tinged with affection, "we'll both be good parents, working hard together. for our family." he leaned forward and pressed into you further to kiss you on the lips.

"i love you."

"i love you too. more than you'll ever know. you complete me." he said, his voice was doused in love. you knew that he meant it. he wouldn't marry you and lie about loving you.

you could recall his tenderness throughout your relationship. and it made your heart flutter. oscar adored you, even going as far as to have a keychain on his bag with your favourite animal on it. so he'd have a little piece of you when you were apart.

he continued to move against you, his lips found yours once more and you both felt hot. in the quietness of your home during the season break. you could feel how much he loved you even without words. oscar piastri adored you, loved you so deeply that it made up his heart beat.

"you're the funniest, most amazing woman i've ever met." he chuckled softly, "i remember when you took us out on our first date and we split that cheesecake." he moved against you further, "in all fairness it was really good, but i wanted you to have more of it. your smile when you ate it, i couldn't get enough of it."

you squirmed a little more under his heavy thrusts and you moaned a little louder. thankfully you had some privacy in your large home, which allowed the two of you to really go at it.

oscar thrusted against you and you felt hot all over. the throb of pleasure in the back of your head as he moved against you. you said softly, "i love you."

"and i love you." he said. his heart raced. the two of you fit perfectly together, the pleasure pooled between you two. you felt hot all over.

you felt close to your climax. you held onto your legs tighter as you tensed up. you moaned a little louder as you felt yourself reach your peak of climax soon after. as you came, you reached for your husband and the two of you kissed passionately.

oscar was close behind you, his pace staggered and eventually he gave it his all to finish inside of you. he felt the pleasure shiver down his spine as he panted heavily. his body pressed into yours, keeping you pinned under him as he finished inside of you.

he got close enough to pepper your face with kisses. you melted into his touch a little more as you felt the after glow of pleasure. eventually oscar pulled out and you placed your lower half down onto the bed once more.

he laid out next to you and pulled you into his grasp. he loved the feeling of you against him as he peppered your face with kisses. you leaned into him like a flower did the sun and you felt comfortable next to him.

"did i hurt you?" he asked softly.

"no, no." you said as you captured his lips once more before he pulled the covers over the both of you. you both snuggled against one another naked.

he asked, "do you need anything? anything at all?" he always made sure you received after care, even if the sex was tender.

you pecked his lips once more and assured him you needed nothing. until the light bulb went off in your head. you smiled at him and suggested, "maybe we can finish that cheesecake?"

"in bed?"

you giggled, "better than sitting at the table naked."

he chuckled and wrapped an arm around you, "well, it'll be the first and last time. we have to set a good example for our daughter."

"oh, already certain of the gender?" you laughed a little.

"of course. and she'll be as funny and smart as you." oscar pulled you as close as you could get with you leg over his hip. he looked at you with such affection. he couldn't wait to have a family with you <3

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — TANGLED FATES

pairing: kinich, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer x reader

cw: soulmates! au. characters may look ooc. approximately 3k words. no pronouns mentioned though "my lady" is said in kazuha's part. fluffy, angsty, lovely. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Kinich

Kinich had always felt a subtle pull toward something—or someone—just beyond his reach.

From the moment he was born, the thread that connected him to his soulmate had been a delicate shade of translucent red, often fading to the point of nearly vanishing. It was a constant reminder of the distance between them, a tangible sign that his soulmate was far away, perhaps even in another nation.

The people of Natlan revered the concept of soulmates, believing that every thread was woven by the hands of fate itself. Kinich, however, was not the type to wander beyond his homeland in search of this elusive connection. The rugged beauty of his tribe, the thrill of hunting, and the camaraderie of his people grounded him. He found comfort in the familiar rhythms of his life, though sometimes, during quiet moments beneath the canopy of the trees or while gazing at the stars, the thought of his soulmate would flutter in his mind like a restless bird.

Yet today was different.

As Kinich navigated the vibrant festival of the Scions of the Canopy, filled with laughter and the smell of roasted meats mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruit, he couldn’t shake a strange sensation. He glanced down at the red string on his finger, and to his surprise, it was brighter than he had ever seen—deep crimson, like the fiery sunsets that painted the sky at twilight. The sudden vibrancy sent a jolt of energy through him, and his heart raced with possibilities. For the very first time, it felt that his soulmate was closer than he had ever imagined.

The thought barely settled in his mind when a commotion broke out nearby. Kinich turned to see a crowd gathered around the bungee jumping platform, a popular attraction that had people leaping into the air with exhilarating abandon. The sight of the participants soaring through the sky brought a fainted smile to his face—until he noticed one figure preparing for a jump.

His heart seemed to stop as he caught sight of you, your hair whipping in the wind, laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd. You appeared fearless, but as the countdown began, Kinich noticed something off: the rope seemed frayed, a dangerous instability in an otherwise thrilling endeavor. Panic surged through him as the countdown reached zero.

Before his mind could catch up to his body, he reacted. The faintest snapping sound echoed in his ears as the bungee cord gave way—a horrified gasp echoed from the crowd, but Kinich was already in motion. With a practiced flick of his grappling hook, he shot toward you, the hook catching a solid anchor just as you fell.

In the heartbeat between falling and impact, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, jerking you from the void. Time seemed to slow as the world spun and your eyes locked onto his—the man who had saved your life.

Kinich landed gracefully with you in his arms, his grip steady and reassuring as if it were second nature. As the adrenaline pulsed through you, your heart raced not just from the near-death experience, but from the realization that your strings—both of yours—were now glowing vividly, a striking red.

The connection between you was undeniable, even if the situation was surreal.

“That was... close,” you murmured, still catching your breath, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Kinich’s usual nonchalance wavered momentarily as his eyes lingered on yours. He gently set you down, his hand brushing against yours as the string on his pinky tightened, pulling you two together subtly but magnificently. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he said, his voice low but calm, the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering adrenaline. “Maybe a little of both.”

He let out a quiet hum, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. “Seems I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.”

Before you could respond, a pitched voice cut through the air. “No! I though you’d finally gonna get yourself killed, Kinich. Shit! It seems I was wrong again.”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “You wish.”

You blinked, wondering where the voice came from and noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, but before you could ask, Kinich’s focus returned to you. His intense gaze softened as he extended a hand, offering it to you with an unexpected formality. “It seems fate has brought us together in the most dramatic of ways.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “Seems that way. And here I thought I’d get a thrill from jumping, not falling.”

“There are safer thrills,” he answered, his hand still holding yours dearly. “One that doesn’t involve falling from cliffs.”

You bit your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide a smirk, the soft flirtation in his voice making your heartbeats go faster. “Oh? Like what?”

He let his gaze linger on yours, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “Perhaps we’ll find out together.”

The red string between you entwined, as if urging the two of you closer. For the first time in a long while, Kinich felt more than just duty or the thrill of a adventuring—he felt the warmth of something that had been distant for too long.

And for you, the world around you seemed to quiet as the only thing that mattered now was the connection between you and the man fate had quite literally sent to catch you.

Kaedehara Kazuha

From the moment of birth, the faintest whispers of your soulmate begin to form in your mind, weaving through your thoughts, and growing clearer with time. The voices aren’t constant, but they drift in and out, as if carried on a breeze, reminding you of the presence of someone far away yet intimately close. Sometimes, it's a word spoken aloud, a laugh shared with a friend. Other times, it’s a fleeting thought, as private as a breath. And from childhood, this voice becomes an indelible part of your life, a companion whose face you have never seen but whose soul you know deeply.

Kazuha was still a boy when he first heard the voice. He was playing alone in the gardens of his family’s estate, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the wind. And then, as soft as a whisper, he heard it—a voice that wasn’t his own.

It was delicate, like the sound of water trickling over smooth stones. A voice so pure it carried the sweetness of a lullaby. At first, he thought it was part of the wind, some trick of the breeze, but as the days went on, the voice returned. Sometimes it sang, sometimes it hummed a tune that was unfamiliar yet soothing. And when it spoke, Kazuha listened, enchanted by the rhythm of the words, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Years passed, and the voice became a familiar presence in his life. He learned to recognize its tones—the way it brightened when it was happy, or softened when the person behind it was lost in thought. Even when he left the security of his childhood home, embarking on his wandering journey, the voice followed him. It was a constant companion, a tether that connected him to something beyond the world he knew.

The voice belonged to an opera singer from Fontaine, though Kazuha would only come to know this much later. As children, you’d hear each other speak, often unaware of the impact your words were having on the other side of the world. You’ve been singing since you were small, your voice a bright light in the waterside streets of Fontaine, and Kazuha had come to love the sound of it—first as a soothing melody in the background of his thoughts, and later as a force that brought him comfort during his travels. He could sense your emotions through your voice—the joy you found in your craft, the occasional frustration in your rehearsals, and the quiet moments when you’d murmur your thoughts to yourself.

You, too, had been listening to him. From the first haikus he had whispered into the wind as a child, to the quiet contemplations of a young man growing into his own. Though Kazuha was never one to speak much, the moments when he’d recite poetry or talk to the wind were enough to fill your heart with a sense of companionship. His voice, calm and steady, was a comfort to you as you navigated your own world of art and performance.

Neither of you knew exactly who the other was, but your voices had become a part of each other. Even without a meeting, you had grown up together—two souls connected by the invisible threads of fate.

As Kazuha grew older, his understanding of the voice deepened. He’d often find himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake with the faint echoes of your songs still lingering in his ears. He marveled at how perfectly your voice blended with the world around him—the wind, the sea, and the rustling of leaves in the forests he wandered. Your voice had become a song in the symphony of his life, and he cherished it.

For you, his words were like the poetry he often whispered to himself—a gentle, constant reminder that somewhere out there was someone who understood the world the way you did. You often wondered what he looked like, what kind of person could speak so softly yet carry so much meaning in his words.

Years passed, and though your connection remained strong, you never rushed to meet. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the quiet understanding that one day, you’d find each other.

It wasn’t until Kazuha’s travels led him to Fontaine that your worlds finally began to merge. The hydro nation was a place where the beauty of the arts and the depths of the sea intertwined. Kazuha had no intention of seeking you out immediately. He had learned patience long ago and trusted that the wind would guide him when the time was right.

But as he wandered the streets of Fontaine, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, he heard your voice again—clearer than it had ever been. This time, it was no distant whisper but a melody that floated on the air, rich and vibrant. You were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, your voice filling the opera house with the same beauty that had once echoed in his dreams.

He stood at a distance, watching you from the shadows. You were every bit as graceful as your voice, your movements fluid and elegant. Your presence commanded the space around you, yet there was a softness to you that drew him in. You were speaking with one of the directors with enthusiasm as you discussed the details of the upcoming opera. And though you didn’t know it, the man you had shared your thoughts with for so many years was standing just a few feet away, watching with quiet reverence.

Kazuha’s heart swelled as he took a deep breath, allowing the wind to guide him forward. It was time.

With the same grace that had carried him through countless battles and journeys, he approached you, his steps light and unhurried. When you turned, eyes meeting, the recognition was instant. The voice that had been a constant presence in your lives was now matched with a face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped, leaving only the two of you standing in the fading light of the afternoon. And then, with a soft smile, Kazuha spoke.

“My lady,” he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that stirred the air around both of you. He took your hand in his own, bowing slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The soft kiss he placed on the back of your hand was filled with all the quiet emotion he had carried with him for so many years. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Your smile widened, warmth rosing on your cheeks. “The honor is mine. I’ve heard your voice for so long… I almost thought I was dreaming when I heard you recite your poems for the first time.”

“As did I,” Kazuha replied, his crimson eyes soft as he gazed at you. “Your voice has been with me for as long as I can remember. Hearing you sing now… it feels as though I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

You laughed softly, the sound as musical as the voice he had come to love. “And I’ve been waiting for you. I always wondered when our paths would cross.”

“They were bound to,” Kazuha said, his tone warm. “The wind always carries us to where we are meant to be.”

With his and your hands still gently intertwined, you stood in the heart of Fontaine, the city alive with the murmur of art and life around them. But for the two of you, the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the echo of the voices that had connected you for so long.

In that moment, you knew that your journey—though long and winding—had led you both exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

Wanderer

In Teyvat, the concept of soulmates wasn’t something everyone discussed openly, but it was an unspoken truth understood by all. It was a tragic but beautiful reality for those people: no one ever dreamed—at least, not until they met their soulmate. The first and only dream a person would ever experience was a shared one, an intimate meeting with their destined one. This dream wasn’t bound by time or place, often filled with subtle moments, quiet connections, and profound understanding. But the dream itself didn’t mean immediate union. Many spent years after their dream searching, wondering when—or if—they’d ever cross paths with their other half in the waking world.

And not all believed they deserved a soulmate.

Wanderer had learned of the legend when he was still known as Kunikuzushi, back in the early days when he was newly formed and still discovering what it meant to exist. He hadn’t thought it applied to him, a puppet—a hollow being without a true heart, someone who was neither human nor divine. But one night, long ago, when he was still innocent and full of hope, he had a dream.

In that dream, he met you.

It wasn’t a vivid or wild vision. It was quiet, serene. You walked in a vast wheat field, your steps so rhythmic as if you were dancing between invisible trails that only you knew where it’d take you. Your back was turned to him but the sound of your laughter was a song that played like a lullaby in his head. When you looked up, your eyes meeting, something inside him stirred—a sense of calm, of being understood without words.

There were no grand gestures, no spoken promises. Just a glance, a soft smile, and a feeling that warmed him from the inside out. You were real, and for the first time in his short existence, he felt connected to something outside of himself. 

When he woke, the memory of that dream stayed with him, lodged deep in his mind like a forgotten melody. He tried to dismiss it, thinking it was some strange byproduct of his flawed creation. How could he have a soulmate when he wasn’t truly human?

Years, centuries passed, and Kunikuzushi became Scaramouche, and Scaramouche became Wanderer. He fell deeper into darkness, fueled by bitterness and anger. Yet, despite the walls he built around himself, the memory of the dream never fully faded. It lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes emerging in his quietest moments, like a long-lost hope he didn’t want to admit to. He believed that dream was lost to time, and that he had been undeserving of it. He had resigned himself to solitude, pushing away any notion that he might still have a connection to someone out there.

But everything changed the night he wandered the streets of Sumeru.

The night was calm, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of flowers. It was one of those evenings where the city was still alive, bustling with life even under the veil of darkness. The marketplace glowed softly in the distance, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Wanderer had no purpose being there, only walking aimlessly, his mind drifting between thoughts.

Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the memory of that dream began to surface. The image of you, twirling in a field, returned with startling clarity. He could almost see the light in your eyes, feel the quiet comfort of that moment. His steps slowed as a strange, almost magnetic pull tugged at his chest, drawing his attention toward the marketplace.

And then he saw you.

You stood at a vendor’s stall, your profile illuminated by the soft lantern light. His breath hitched. It was as if time stopped. You looked exactly as you had in the dream—your presence both familiar and startling. He blinked, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. After all this time, how could you be here?

You turned slightly, inspecting some trinket on display, completely unaware of him. The world around him blurred, all the noise fading into a distant hum as his focus remained solely on you. He felt his heart—did he even have one?—thunder in his chest.

A storm of emotions raged inside him. He hadn’t prepared for this. Could this truly be real? After all he had done—his mistakes, his hatred, his isolation—was it possible that fate hadn’t given up on him? Was he still deserving of a soulmate?

He found himself rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. He couldn’t approach you, not yet. How could he, knowing what he had become? A part of him was relieved, though—relieved that you existed, that the dream hadn’t been a cruel joke. But the hesitation that lingered was undeniable. What if you saw him for who he truly was and walked away? What if, after all these years, he was no longer the person you had dreamed of?

You moved away from the stall, and at that moment, your eyes swept over the crowd, casually scanning the area—until they locked onto his.

The recognition was instant, like a spark between two halves of a long-separated whole. You blinked, clearly processing what you were feeling as if the dream had come flooding back to you all at once. The same quiet understanding he had felt in the dream now passed between you in reality. Your expression softened, and though you seemed uncertain, you didn’t look away.

You took a tentative step toward him, your curiosity was evident. His heart raced again, the walls he had built around himself suddenly feeling fragile as if a single word from you could shatter them entirely.

And then you spoke.

“I saw you once upon a dream,” you said, your voice gentle, filled with the same warmth and wonder from the dream. There was no accusation in your tone, no judgment—just simple truth.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, yet none of them made sense. All he could manage was, “Did you?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “I thought it was just a trick of my mind, but… seeing you now, I know it was real.”

He stood frozen, a mix of doubts, disbelief, and relief swirling inside him. The person he had dreamed of, who he thought was forever out of reach, was standing in front of him. And you remembered him.

His voice was quieter than he intended when he finally spoke again. “I never thought I’d find you.”

You stepped closer, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Neither did I. But… here we are.”

The warmth in your eyes was something he hadn’t felt in so long. It made the walls around his heart tremble, threatening to crumble. He wanted to say so much, to explain the years that had passed, to tell you how unworthy he felt—but none of it mattered in that moment. You were here, and you had dreamed of him, too.

Perhaps, despite everything, he still had a chance at something real. Something good. And for the first time in his long, fragmented existence, Kunikuzushi felt a flicker of hope.