#seeing the little things in every day life

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTALKERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How it's like having him as your stalker?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You never noticed him at first.

Which was strange, really. Because Dick was a presence—magnetic, charming, always the kind of guy who could steal attention in any room, even when he wasn’t trying.

But with you? He liked to stay hidden. Lurking in the shadows. Watching.

At first, it was innocent (or so he told himself). He noticed you at a coffee shop one day, lost in a book, chewing on the end of your pen as you scribbled something in a notebook. He found himself drawn to the little things—the way you furrowed your brows when concentrating, the way you smiled at something on your phone, the soft way you carried yourself. It was just curiosity at first. That’s all.

Then he saw you again. And again. And suddenly, he was seeing you everywhere.

It became a habit, a compulsion. He memorized your routine like it was a mission. When you got coffee. What time you left work. What stores you liked to browse in. He told himself he was just making sure you were safe—because Gotham was dangerous, right? A girl like you, alone? Vulnerable? It only made sense that he’d keep an eye on you.

Then he got closer.

It started small. Brushing past you on the subway, close enough to inhale the scent of your shampoo. Sitting near you in a cafe, pretending to be busy on his phone while he listened to the way you spoke. Learning your favorite drink, so he could leave it waiting for you at the counter when you arrived—anonymously, of course. You’d glance around, confused, but never knew it was him.

You weren’t even aware that he was already in your apartment.

Not when you were there, of course—he’d never scare you like that. But while you were out? He’d slip inside with an ease that almost disappointed him (you really needed better locks). He never took anything—he just… looked. Examined the little pieces of your life. The books stacked beside your bed. The jewelry you left on the dresser. The clothes draped over the chair, still carrying the ghost of your body’s warmth.

He touched them sometimes. Ran his fingers over the fabric. Just to feel close to you.

The obsession grew.

He started taking things—small things, things you wouldn’t notice were gone. A hair tie. A receipt you left on the counter. A half-used tube of lip balm. They were trophies, proof that he was part of your world even if you didn’t know it yet.

And the pictures. Oh, the pictures.

They covered his walls. You smiling. You asleep on the bus, head tucked against the window. You looking at a menu, deep in thought. Hundreds of them, from every angle, every moment of your life he could capture without you noticing.

And the best part?

You liked him.

You had no idea, of course, but Dick could see it. The way you glanced at him when he finally started talking to you, when he finally made himself known in your life. It was easy—he was charming, he was sweet, he was everything you’d want in a guy.

So he inserted himself into your life, seamlessly.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!” A bright smile. A friendly laugh. “What a coincidence, huh?”

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was orchestrated, down to the second. Every “random” encounter, every meeting—it was all planned, deliberate. But you didn’t question it. Why would you? He was Dick Grayson. A gentleman. A hero.

You never realized the full weight of his devotion.

Never realized how deep it ran.

Never realized how much worse it could get.

Because the thought of losing you? The thought of someone else having you?

It made him sick.

It made him furious.

It made him violent.

You noticed the change after a while. The possessiveness in his touch, the way his grip lingered on your wrist, the way his blue eyes darkened when you so much as smiled at another man.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he’d say, voice honey-sweet. “You’re too trusting, sweetheart. Not everyone has good intentions.”

Not like him.

So when your ex went missing, you didn’t think much of it.

When that guy at work—the one who flirted with you—got mugged and beaten within an inch of his life, you chalked it up to Gotham’s crime rate.

And when you started feeling like you were being watched, even in the safety of your own home—well.

Dick was always there to reassure you.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And he meant it.

Even if that meant keeping you all to himself.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I��ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[coralaura]

Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

[randomstore]

okay but this is my generation. and to see people so casually do this every single day hurts me so much. need an essay idea? ask ai! want a list of goals for your life? chat gpt can help you! want to draw something? just come up with a prompt and the art is yours.

if I had to guess, around a quarter to half of the thesis statements in my honors english class this semester were made with ai. nobody seems to bat an eye but me. stuff like ai 'art' seems to irk more people, but there's a noticeable part of the population who just doesn't really care.

maybe it's because I'm a writer. an artist. I spend so much of my life consuming the art people have made with their own hands and their own souls and creating my own that it does not make sense to spend my time trying to make less art. art made by real humans has shaped who i want to be as a person. every ounce of emotion and struggle that goes into that art shows how much they wanted to make it exist and that emotion and that struggle is what makes it art.

also, why would I want to outsource my thinking? my beliefs and values are the things that make me who I am, more than any simple physical traits and skills I possess. my goals are uniquely my own and to hand any part of that process of development over to a machine that can never really know me feels strange. all it will ever do is spit out what the majority of people want to do, never accounting for who you want to be. I have found no easier way to find what I want to do than to go on a walk or just sit and contemplate. alone. only with my thoughts, which isn't always fun. but it gets me somewhere. I know myself better afterwards, even if just a little bit.

maybe it's just because I'm an artist. but I don't want to see people jump at the opportunity to do less of what makes them human.

the generational gap between me and the people my age who use chat gpt

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 1 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: God bless Milo Manheim!!!!!!!!!! I love this idea of having a bucket list of things they want to do before crossing over. It might be cool to make it into a series. idk. We'll see. :) For now, enjoy!! I hope you guys like it. <3 xoxo, nai.

Word count: 1714

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn.

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

Wally had been wandering the halls of the school, bored out of his mind, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he just tried to make it through another day—not that he ever expected much on a normal one, at least. But then, there were those days. The ones that turned into trouble. The kind of trouble that you made happen.

It didn't really take much to turn an average boring day into something unforgettable when you were involved. You were the life of the party. You and Wally? Every single time you two were together, trouble seemed to follow.

And today? Today was no different.

You had both made a promise long ago: make eternity fun. It was a pact, a way to deal with the fact that you two were dead, with no going back to your old lives. So, you'd sworn to make the most of every single day, even if it meant causing chaos along the way.

You'd even written down an entire bucket list with him. Wally named it "100 things to do before crossing over." You two hadn't really crossed off many of the things you'd written down; some of them were not very possible, given the fact that you two couldn't really leave the school grounds. But that didn't stop you from trying to make every day feel like it mattered.

After walking aimlessly around the school, Wally finally spotted you, sprawled out on the bleachers of the football field. The sun was making your skin glow, and despite the fact that you couldn't tan anymore, you still seemed to soak up every single ray as if you were trying to relieve the feeling of it. One arm draped over your eyes, one leg over the other. Wally smiled; you always found a way to look effortlessly cool and beautiful, even in moments like this.

Wally climbed up the steps, settling on the one just below you, his eyes studying you. "We're gonna have field day in an hour," he said, his voice light. "Mr. Martin wants to do something...different. A bonfire or whatever. I don't know. Rhonda told me."

But you didn't respond. Your silence made him arch an eyebrow.

"You good?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious now. He wasn't too used to you being so quiet.

You opened your eyes, lazily glancing at him. “Just thinking,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Dangerous,” he teased, though he could tell something was off. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, but he noticed they didn't have that usual sparkle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, a little more worried now.

You propped yourself up, your gaze flickering to the school building for a moment before focusing back on him. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “I’ve just been thinking about that list we made.”

“The one with a hundred things we’re supposed to do before crossing over?” Wally asked, smirking. “We’re halfway through, but there’s still plenty of time left.”

He watched your expression closely, trying to figure out what was going through your head, but you were unreadable as ever.

You shook your head. “We haven’t really crossed off much…” You trailed off for a second, your gaze flicking to the sky before you let out a sigh. “I just feel like... days are getting boring, Wally.”

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s do something not boring, then. Something stupid.”

“Define stupid.” You raised an eyebrow.

Wally’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin. The one that always meant he was about to take things to another level.

“Number 16,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do you expect me to remember?” You shot back, trying to act nonchalant, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Skinny dipping, dumbass.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words. Your mind raced, the idea catching you off guard. It was reckless, a little insane—but totally on brand for the two of you.

"You're serious?" you asked, staring at him with a mix of disbelief.

Wally leaned forward slightly, his voice low, his gaze burning with that familiar mischievous fire. “Dead serious.”

You couldn’t help it. A wicked smile spread across your face as you locked eyes with him. It was just a stupid thing to do. Just another one of your meaningless games. No harm in it, right?

"You're insane," you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the bleacher to stand right in front of him. You looked down at him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge in your eyes.

Wally just shrugged. “Yeah, well, eternity wouldn’t be fun if we weren’t at least a little bit insane.” His eyes traced the curve of your body, the unspoken tension between you both suddenly feeling palpable, thick in the air.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat that seemed to spark between you both. “I swear you’ll get us caught.” You half joked, but the wild idea was starting to feel too good to back away from.

“Let’s make it quick then,” he replied. “We’ll make sure no one sees us.”

"I swear, Wally, if we get caught... I'll kill you," you warned, your voice a mix of a playful threat.

Wally chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You wouldn't," he teased, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Besides, it's not like anyone's out there anyway. Everyone's off by the bonfire, telling ghost stories or whatever it is they do. We're fine. I'm sure they won't miss us."

You shot him a skeptical look, doubting if you should agree to it but you craved the adrenaline more.

"Come on," he grinned, grabbing your hand. "Let's go have some fun."

The thrill and the adrenaline coursed through you as you followed him, letting him guide you through the school. Wally was always the one to get you into trouble, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

As you both snuck through the hallways, being very careful to avoid Rhonda, Charley, Mr. Martin, or anyone who might spot you. You both could hear the muffled sounds of chatter echoing from the field.

When you finally reached the indoor pool, Wally paused at the entrance, opening the door slowly, and scanning the room. It was empty. The sun was almost gone, and the full moon shone brightly through the roof, illuminating the pool in a way that made the entire space feel almost otherworldly.

Wally turned back to you, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we have the place all to ourselves."

"Good," you smiled. "Kinda wanted some alone time, y'know?"

Wally's smile grew bigger, his gaze deepening. He took a step closer to you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I was actually thinking the same thing," he said, his voice low, more intimate. There was a flicker of something between you, a feeling that had been there for a while but neither of you had ever acknowledged it. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," you repeated slowly, the words lingering in the air between you two.

For a second, everything faded away. The pool, the school, the world—it all felt distant, like a memory. It was just you and him, standing there in the moonlit pool, the adrenaline cursing through your veins.

Wally's hand was still intertwined with yours; his touch was warm, and even though you were technically dead, you still felt alive in moments like this. His gaze never left yours as he stepped closer, his breath becoming quicker.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and something else, something deeper, though it was hard for you to place.

You met his gaze and smirked. "Dead serious."

Wally's lips curled into a grin, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes and it made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze on you caused your head to spin, his presence was overwhelming. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Just us?"

"Mhm," you nodded, your gaze never leaving his.

There was a subtle shift in Wally's demeanor, a possessiveness in the way he looked at you, but it wasn't the kind that felt controlling, it was the kind that made you feel like he was claiming this moment, claiming you, without saying a word. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts, you couldn't really tell if it was the adrenaline or something else, but you felt your heart pound louder in your chest.

"Yeah?" Wally repeated, a challenging tone lacing his voice, his smile never wavered. He stepped a little bit closer, closing the distance between you, his body just a fraction of an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between you so strong, so thick you could almost touch it.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze, how it seemed to pierce right through you, taking in every single inch of you. His pupils were wide, dark, hungry, and the intensity of his stare made your heart race faster than before.

There was no going back now.

And honestly? You did not want to.

"Yeah," you whispered, a little breathless, words barely escaping your lips.

Just you and him, no distractions, no one to come between you two, no rules, no secrets, no limits.

Just you and him.

"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

This might actually be the worst idea you've ever had. You'd suggested skinny dipping as a joke, both drunk and laughing while writing the list, not actually expecting him to go forward with it.

But here you were, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the air thick, almost suffocating. His eyes so dark, filled with something you couldn't quite describe, but you knew this wasn't just about a dare anymore.

This wasn't just a game.

It was about to become something entirely different, something that could change everything, ruin everything, but... maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to. 

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

I'll Always Be Here

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 867 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, implied nudity, soft Sylus, taking care of him

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Sylus leaned on the doorway, watching you lay in bed. You hadn’t left the bed in days and he was starting to seriously worry about you. 

“Kitten,” he said softly as he walked to the bed to sit on the edge. “You need to get up… just for a little bit… take a bath, eat something.” he said.

You didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound. He sighed. As much as he didn’t want to, he decided it was for your best; he gently pulled the blankets off before picking you up bridal style. Your eyes were devoid of emotion, looking glazed over and unfocused. He turned on the water with one hand, dumping a little soap in as well which bubbled quickly. He set you on the counter, his touch was light as he took your clothes off. You didn’t look at him but you didn’t resist him either. The water steamed and bubbled just the way he knew you liked; he picked you up and placed you in, his arms staying wrapped around you until you were gently laid all the way down. You wrapped your arms around yourself. It was the first time Sylus had seen you move in days. He leaned his head on his arms which were resting on the side of the tub.

“I feel so numb Sylus.” you whispered, still not looking at him. Silent tears fell from your already puffy eyes. 

He perked up at the sound of your voice, not hearing it for the last three days. It was a bittersweet feeling. He always loved hearing you talk but when you said such damning things it broke his heart. 

“Like I don’t want to be here anymore.” you mumbled before slipping down in the tub to rest completely on the bottom. Everything felt peaceful here, quiet and weightless. You could see how concern covered his face. You hated falling into these lows, they made you hopeless and desperate for an end to life. It was the easiest and most permanent option your brain could think of. When the need for air was too much you rose out of the water, resting against the tub again. “I’m scared of myself Sy…” 

His eyes were soft, pleading with you. “I know honey… and I wish I could do something about it. But I'll tell you this,” he said, sliding his hand to hold your face reassuringly, “I am a selfish man - so I will do everything in my power to help you, keep you safe and happy. You are all that matters to me. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” he said.

You leaned into his palm, tears and sobs leaving you. You curled into him, half in the tub and half out. His crisp white shirt soaked through but he couldn’t care less as his strong arms wrapped around you. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply. He hadn’t touched you in days, he felt so touch starved he never wanted to leave your arms. “I’ll always be here for you. To keep you and love you always.” he said into your neck before placing a soft kiss right below your ear. 

You tightened your hold on him. You don’t know how or why the universe brought such opposite people together, much less made them fall madly in love but who were you to question it? All you were in this moment was grateful. You weren't in this alone anymore, Sylus was the light you needed, whenever you needed him.

He let go of you before moving to get the washcloth and bar of soap. Neither of you spoke as he washed your body or scrubbed the suds into your hair. Every touch was deliberate and delicate. You felt yourself feel slightly less heavy, a little more… human. 

When the bath was tepid and your fingers started to prune Sylus helped you step out before wrapping you in a towel. You walked back into the bedroom, Sylus holding your waist just for the comfort of knowing he was there. As you dried off he went to the closet before returning with one of his massive shirts and a pair of underwear for you. Once dressed you slowly slid back into the bed.

Sylus sighed quietly, he was proud you bathed, talked, and moved today; he didn’t want to push it. He leaned down, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to get you some food and water, I’ll be right back.” he said, thumbing over your cheek. 

You turned on the tv, flipping on a favorite comedy of yours to try and cheer yourself up. Sylus returned after a moment, setting down multiple different snacks before handing you a bottle of water. He took his shirt and dress pants off before climbing into bed in his boxers. You instinctively scooted into his arms, his warmth radiating off him, enveloping you completely. His steady heart beat and his hand massaging your scalp lulled you to sleep. A restful sleep unlike the despair sleeps you had been having so regularly. 

Sylus kissed your head, keeping you close. Trying to protect you from anything and everything, including yourself.

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

Naboo's Note:

I hope ya'll enjoy, I've been pretty down in the dumps as of late and I'd love for this man to just comfort the shit out of me rn. I love ya'll so much and I'll post again soon. Stay safe and be well :) XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!!

[witerh]

To have. To hold. To breed. || husband re: vendetta!leon

NSFW!

warnings: fluff, soft/dom, reader!housewife, kisses, on the table, pussy eating, hole inspection, fingering, mating prees, deep fuck, ovulation, impreg, aftercare

notes: i admired asmr and my imagination was not enough to come up with another name, lmao (my one of the drabbles on dirty stories with leon for women's day, other drabbles can be seen on my ao3)

rating: mature

summary: leon step through the front door, he accosted by his woman. the smell of your cooking, the sound of your moving about in the kitchen. he have no choice but to follow his senses. when he sees you, all sweet and lush and prettied up for him, every ounce of tiredness in his body fades and the only thing on his mind becomes...

It's already sparkling outside, darkness fills the horizon and the noise and smell of cooking fills your home. You were standing at the stove, preparing dinner in the form of chicken and a side dish.

The muffled roar of a motorcycle distracts you, because most likely…

It is your husband coming home from work.

Leon’s life as a government agent was full of danger and chaos — his missions took him to the darkest corners of the world, and it often felt like he was married to his job, not to you.

The traumas were already in his brain dented with nightmares and memories as if for the first time. Every mission weighs on Leon more than the last. He hasn’t been the same since Raccoon City, and every year seems to put more strain on him than the last.He’s getting older now. His line of work has never given him the opportunity to settle down and start a family — not that any girl would want a guy who drunk himself half to death.

But you are like someone else and despite the obstacles of his work you were able to become something more than friends.Now you and Leon have been together for many years, not counting the year of your marriage. There were hard times and pleasant things, but you always got through it together.

He tries to spend more time with you, to be closer and more open, to communicate more with friends and acquaintances. This attempt to get rid of the burden of the past helps.

The smile has begun to appear on his face much more often when he is in your pleasant and cozy company. He is already on the mend and may be able to get rid of his nightmares.

Thanks to the psychologist.

Leon was coming home from work after hours of nonstop reports and paperwork, the younger recruits dumping all of their mess onto the old man. He fiddled with his keys before opening the front door to his house, huffing to himself as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.He quickly stripped off his jacket, hanging it up before going further into the not quiet house. All faded away as he saw his precious little wife cooking on the kitchen; this gorgeous view from the back along with a fitted apron and a cute bow at the back, this hand stirring something (which he is always sure of it) delicious in a frying pan.

Wrinkles appeared on his handsome face when he smiled and you immediately noticed his steps.

Familiar arms wrapped around your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back while he inhaled your scent against your neck. “Well aren’t you a beauty standing at the stove… beautiful as a picture for me”, he whispers into the crook of your neck.

“Hey, Leon”, he doesn’t see your smile but you are very happy to see him. You turned your head towards him to catch a glimpse of him melting in your presence. “You should take a shower and then you can hug as much as you want.”

“I know I’m all dirty, but let me hold you for a moment.” He breathes deeply and fully. “I just need my girl in my arms.”

But despite your words, he doesn’t leave you, just sighs deeply and hums. Finally, he can relax from all this paperwork.

“I missed you, princess”, he surrenders in your arms, his shoulder muscles relaxing. “The work was hard, I had to take on all the work myself… These recruits can’t be relied upon.”

“All this time I could only think about how I would return home to my sweet wife.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, swear on my heart”, he confesses to you. “I knew you’d be here, beautiful, sweet smelling, with something on the table to fill my belly. Remind me why I work so hard…”

He falls silent again, closes his eyes and breathes calmly while you work over the stove. But something catches his attention, causing him to open his eyes and move his head off your shoulder, but not pull away from your back. He tilted his head to the side, and damn, a smile appeared on his lips at the sight before his eyes. His eyes were already sparkling with joy and it seemed like the fatigue had instantly fallen from his shoulders.

“Hold on now, what is this?” He laughs deeply, grinning toothily. “You’re already trying to push your fat ass against my cock, like if you’re hungry for it… Are you desperate yet, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you bites bottom lip and your back arches slightly. You’re sure he’s noticed it too. “Yes, I am. I need you so much, Le—…”

“Yeah?” he asks again, interrupting you mid-sentence and you were left with your mouth open in bewilderment. “Here’s how… I need to see myself make sure my sweet wife needs «help» as much as she says.”

He pulled away from you, turned and looked around the table set: lace tablecloth with plates and forks and this is for you both this evening. You always set the table for your dinner or breakfast. Everything has to be perfect, right?

“Every night you set this table so pretty, even when it’s just you and me sitting at it.” he moans in pleasure looking at all this beauty. “As much as I want to ruin that, I need something to lay you down on.”

He admired and still admires this, that you bring everything to perfection, but now it interferes a little with his plans. He pushed the plates away with his hand, making a dull thud as the dishes smashed against each other, causing you to look back at the sound.

At one point he grabs your hand and gently pushes you onto the edge of the table that he cleared especially for you. “Mhmm… There you go.” he guides you, helping you to sit more comfortably. “Lie down right here, precious.”

“Keep your legs over this table, push your butt against edge…” He nods, watching as you try to do as he asks. “There you go, good girl…”

“Now spread those pretty thighs open.”You spread your legs, looking puzzled at Leon and his face as he examines what’s under the apron. And you’re there without panties: as strange as it may seem, you were already wet. That's nature.

“Look at this delicious little pussy,” he notices teasingly, leaning closer to your core. “You’re already hungry for it, aren’t you?

”His breath touched your sensitive skin and it was pleasant — you could admit it but with great defeat. If only you knew that you had already lost...

“Oh!” you sigh and blush at his words. You can’t just give in to your husband and tell him that you missed him all day. “What are you talking about?…”

“You know what am i talking about right now. It’s all juices on your thighs… they flow down right on your ass on…” he notices, looking up at your face and then back between your legs. “Let me give my hands under knees to open you up.”

You didn’t object, you just spread your legs even more for him to make it easier. Your fingers tightened on the edge of the table, your knuckles even turned white.

His strong hands grabbed you under the knee, the other placed on his shoulder as he brought his face closer to your pussy. His hot breath fanned over your lower lips.

“God damn, sweetheart… she’s so pretty that I just wanna…”

Lips pressed against your pussy, wrapping them around your clit, kissing and licking, giving and encouraging attention to this pearl. He heard your surprised cry with pleasure and pushed him to go further, but your legs reflexively wanted to squeeze together, to which he looked up at you.It was hard to resist locking his legs together and he chuckled because of it.

“Ohh… Nah-huh, baby, they stay open for as long as I want it be,” He pouts weakly, pretending to be offended. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

“Don’t pretend you just accidentally forgot to put on panties this morning.”

“Damn, you found me out,” you laughed. “Okay, I won't. Just don't stop, okay?”

He nods with satisfaction at your answer. “Mhmm, good. So keep those gorgeous thighs open for me…”

The tongue flicks at your clit, sucking and lightly touching it with his lips, but quickly replacing the pain with his lips. He changed and played with the clit, using his tongue first and then his lips, making you go crazy.

He explores your vagina, giving it his time and attention, for which you are so grateful to him. He is already skilled at this and it is not difficult for him to go down a little lower… and, oh, your humming encourage him as his tongue penetrates you, so full of your juices.

Leon enjoys your excited sighs, even a little proud that he can satisfy his little wife like this.The tip of the nose does not forget to replace his lips and presses enough while he works a little lower and wets his bristles which gently tickles you.

“Fuck, you are just flowing,” he is breathing heavily. “…I swear I can do this all day… all night.”

“Oh my God, Leon”, you grip his hair tightly, guiding him with a strong grip. “I feel so go-o-od… Please don’t stop..”

“You like it, huh?” he smiles weakly and does not resist your fingers, allowing herself to be your puppet. “Of course you like it when I run my tongue over your needy clit…”

Based on his words, he lifts his head and again his tongue attacks your clit, circling it with the tip and lubricating it with warm saliva. From your clit he moves down again, painfully slowly, making your body shudder with need.

“Fuck, I love the way your pussy looks after I run my tongue all over it,” He moves his face away a couple of centimeters to see what he has done to you. “…What if I just run my thumb over this littlе clit just like…”

And your “ahh!” reaction makes him laugh deeply and keep his thumb pinched a little longer for fun. “Tha-at’s, baby…”

His hands were getting tired of holding your hips, and as much as he wanted to explore you with his tongue, he had to use his fingers to do it. You don't mind, do you?

“Put your hands behind your knees, keep your legs open for your husband, sweetheart,” he still leaves your pussy unattended in order to remove his hands from under your knees. “so that he could carefully these holes looking over…”

“Yes…” you nod and as quickly as possible replace his strong grip with your weaker one.

Pulling his face away a little, his fingers came into play. His index finger began to circle around your vagina, collecting all your moisture and his saliva. “This little pussy looks so tight…”

“It doesn’t matter how many times I fuck her, right?” he raises an eyebrow at you and then at your pussy before carefully starting to enter inside. “She always hugs me, good and tight.”

“Damn.. yea-ah,” You grit your teeth, feeling all the moisture surrounding his long finger. “She was made for you.”

“Ohhh, look how it flows…” He draws your and his attention to this, already noticing how the juices have moved to his knuckles. “Is this pussy really desperate for my cock, sweetheart?”

“That’s little hole beg me to hurry up and come inside?” At his next tease, you nod desperately, asking for the little he can do for you: “Please don’t stop looking me over.. and hurry up, I want your dick.”

“Okay, baby, okay. I’m not giving you dick yet, i’m don’t stop looking you over.” he comforts you, running his hand over your cheek. “I have to make sure my sweet wife is okay, right?”

“Yes, you are right, Leon,” You nod, looking at him and agreeing, because he can’t leave his wife desperate and needy on their kitchen table.

“Safe and ready to breed up, nice and full…” he ponders, looking again at your dripping pussy. “I can give you something… how about the finger?”

“The finger?” you ask him again with interest.

“Maybe one of your thumbs will help cool this hot pussy down a little?” he looks up at your face and asks you because he wants you to enjoy. “Howdo you think?”

“Yes, I want your finger,”

“Let’s see…”

His finger penetrates into the hot place inside you, where it is so hot and wet. Your walls squeeze his knuckles so hard that he can only breathe deeply.

“Damn it, precious, did you follow all the rules for me?”

“Make sure nothing gets in that pussy until daddy gets in there…” he praises, his finger begins to pump inside you, starting at a slow pace and touching your vulnerable spots so that you bend over on this edge of the table. “No wonder you’re so eager for it.”

“Uh-huh, I was only waiting for you…” you hum with ragged breaths as he tortures you with this tempo and those blue eyes right on yours. “I need you.”

“You are here alone, in this house, all day, and you have nothing to feed on except thoughts and memories”, he assumes and now gives you what you wanted all day while he was not in your cozy corner. He is already trying to correct your situation with his finger. “I guess it’s clear now why you crave my dick every time I step foot in the door everyday…”

The pace suddenly quickened, your juices flowing down your thighs and further down to your ass cheeks. His face leans closer and he kisses the tip of your nose, blowing his hot breath on your hot face: “Damn, you’re too wet today, baby.”

“Just look at your ass… it’s all wet too.” he thoughts and pulls away from your face still continuously stretching you before stopping and returning her gaze to you. “Speaking of…”

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop and he immediately hears your whine through clenched teeth. The emptiness inside you didn’t suit you at all. “Hush, hush, hush, don’t cry, sweetie. Daddy will be inside you again soon.”

“You have one more hole I need to check on,” he consoles you with assured words. “Even if I don’t use it today, it’s my husband’s responsibility to make sure, that his wife is in top shape… and that includes her tight little ass.”

You choked. Your walls gripped him tightly and he sighed heavily. He hasn’t fucked you in the ass for a long time, so now you’re squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck… looks like this cute little hole is hungry too,” He puffs and moves his finger back and forth. “I might have to make an effort to use it more often… to make sure she gets as much love as your little pussy.”

The finger began to move more actively inside your hole, to stretch you and tease you enough to hear “aghh” of yours in response.

“Your juices are everywhere. Atta girl.” he remarks with a cheerful tone, looking at how your pussy is oozing more and more. “On me, on you, on the tablecloth.”

A light trickle of your arousal flows right down your ass and he enjoys watching it. So wonderful. But he had to let your holes rest for a moment because his patience was running out.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he announces to you, hearing your whining, because he left you empty. “I need in.”

His fingers unfasten his belt with a loud thud, followed by his fly. His trousers are slightly below his knees. He bares his cock, grabbing the base and using his fist to stroke himself a couple of times, even though precum has already appeared on the tip.

“Are you ready, honey?” he asks to which you nod and say the cherished “yes”. He accepts your answer and, gripping the base, enters you with a heavy sigh.

He allow himself to run the tip of his cock over your wet folds, down and up, and then along before gently entering. He sighs feeling you squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck… that’s it, honey, I’ve got your legs.” With a strong grip, he replaces your hands and does not allow you to twitch. “Mhmm… thank you for holding on to them for such a long time.”

“Time to do all the work for daddy”, he sighs. “Just let me pull your knees up by your ears and stick this dick deep…”

He does as he said, pinning your knees between the table and his strong hands to increase the pace inside you.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, you can take it”, he praises you and strokes your hair with his free hand tenderly despite his careless thrusts. “Do you like it when I’m so deep inside you?”

“Yes, yes, I like it…” moan. and another moan flew from your lips as you looked at him through your eyelashes. “Don’t stop…”

“I didn’t mean that, darling”, he grins at you, baring his teeth in a toothy grin. “Tell daddy he owns you, baby,” sigh “Tell daddy that you belong to him,” sigh “Tell daddy that your little holes are meant for him and him alone.”

“You own me, I belong to you, all my holes are meant for you and only for you”, you gasp and swallow hard as you try to think. “This is just for you.”

“I never get tired of hearing this”, he moves his hand lower and grabs your wrists, trapping them in “shackles” from his strong grip. “But your body is fucking happy to let me know that.”

His hips snap against yours as he claims you on the kitchen table. The room filled with the obscene sounds you both made in the haze of lust.

His head dropped down and he began kissing your neck, watching as your head fell back and your eyes closed as he thrust especially deep.

“Shh”, he sighs between kisses on your skin. “Don’t forget to breathe.”He licks your full skin, wrapping his lips around it and leaving a light hickey on your skin before pulling away again and watching his mark before looking back down at your connection. Your cheeks are red.

“Mhmh… clings to my cock every time I pull it out, covering everywhere with juices”, he notices with a grin, watching how your pussy absolutely doesn’t want to let him go from her grip. Just like you. “It’s fucking impossible to just get out of you. Atta girl.”

A small growl escaped his lips as you hugged him tighter due to his teasing. You panted beneath him, chest rising and falling. He knocks hoarse moans out of your throat.

“Please, don’t stop, Leon..!” you hiccup, your slick hips jerking in response, creating a pleasant friction between you both. “You won’t pull it out when you cum, right?”

“Please, don’t pull it out!”

“Hush, darling. Don’t worry, don’t cry. Daddy won’t pulling out.” he consoles between kisses. “You forgot that I have access to the calendar on your phone too…”

He leans closer, lowering his voice: “I know you’re ovulating.”

“Ahh?!” you sigh and get annoyed because he hid it and now he uses it as a tease. He pulls away with a laugh, hearing your gasps and grinning toothily.

“I’m going to impregnate that pussy, baby”, he promises, almost putting his hand on his heart. “I gonna fill you up so that in a few months you will be bare and pregnant in this kitchen… with proof of my love for you growing in this pretty little belly…”

His promise hangs in the air and you, knowing his tenacity to follow through, already know what he will actually do. But you don't mind. You've long dreamed of children, of that family from glossy magazines or movies..."

“Yes... get me pregnant Leon, please.... I need in this so-o-o ba-a-ad-d...”

you're pulling the letters and it's a fat hint that you're so desperate in your own words. You really need that pregnant belly. With the thought of pregnancy, your walls contracted around his cock as if by reflex and he sighed with sensitivity.

“I feel you tightening around me, darling,” he notices. “Is my dick rubbing against your precious place?”

“Mh-mhmm,” you nod to him in mute agreement. “Is that so, precious?” he raised an eyebrow though he knew it was true. He just wanted to hear your words, not your mooing. “Use your words.”

To accurately get his point across he clicks his hips against yours, reaching almost to the cervix. He didn't hurt you, but it made you shudder.

“Y-yes... you're rubbing against my place...!”

“Let me play with this soaked clit,” he offers you teasingly, releasing your hands from his grip to pay attention to your pearl. “Let’s see how long it takes you to …—”

“That's what you need to cum, isn't it?" It was the last straw for your patience: your back arched, your thighs clenched desperately as you trembled and squirted onto him. You finally got your discharge for that excruciatingly long evening of combined teasing and research. You really walked a thin tightrope, at the risk of getting lost in your own hands of pleasure with your husband (as it happened).

“Leon!” you moan his name with stars in your eyes and a dryness in your mouth. You need air and he slowed down so that his sweet wife wouldn't suffocate under him.

“Fuck..” he clenches his teeth. “You’re still fucking clinging me.”

He could feel your spasms inside, the way your walls desperately hugged his cock as you came on top of him.

"I can't help it, honey", you exhale and cool down under the symphony of his thrusts, you're getting aroused again.

“Milk all the cum out of me”, he orders softly. “Make me make you have a baby!” He needed you as much as if he were the last man in the desert and you were an oasis.

The thrusts became uncontrollable, a growl escaping his lips.

Leon enjoyed these just as much as you did; he needed to be buried inside you to death, he wanted to feel your squeezing walls around him forever. Those dirty thoughts drove him to orgasm.

One more push and he exploded inside you, making another push.... a push, and one more push. The force was exhausted, but the power of wanting to make your family with baby (or even two) more was stronger. He would be glad to see everyone.

“Nah-huh, don’t move”, he mumbles to you, noticing your movements. “I need to fill you with cum deep…”

In a couple minutes that seemed like moments to both of you, he was able to catch his breath enough and freeze inside you to make sure every drop got inside of you. He brought his face closer to you and finally let your knees off his hands only to hug your face with the palms of his hands

“I’m going out, precious”, he whispers in your ear, allowing you to relax a little. “But don’t move, I’ll carry you to the bed, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t move.”

With a wet pop, he pulled his soft cock out of your depths and semen began to spurt out of you right onto the kitchen tablecloth. You rest in his arms as he lifts you up with ease and holds your knees and back, holding you close to him. Your arms wrap around his neck. When he carried you to bed, you lay there while he started looking for some napkins to take care of you. “Will there be a second round?”

“No, the second round will be later”, he laughs. “I’m going to run you a bath and then make you take a nap.”

“You know, I love it when my wife looks well-rested and well take careful.”

“Will you join me?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side.

“My hunger for food can wait, you know?" he laughs deeply running a napkin over your genitals "Of course I'll join." You just laughed tiredly and kissed his cheekbones, hugging him and bringing his face closer so that your breath burned each other faces.

"What do you wanna choose: bubbles or a bath bomb?" He is thinking and needs your help in choosing. "I want..." you think before you answer him: "both."

"Both? My spoiled girl..."

thanks for reading!

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[callsign-rogueone]

Going off your wingleader!Liam idea… Liam and reader are third-years and total couple goals. A first year comes in and starts flirting with reader every time he sees her. He doesn’t know she’s dating his wingleader. She’s polite but doesn’t mention Liam.

One day during training the new guy is watching reader and running his mouth about how hot she is, nudging other guys in his squad and making all kinds of remarks, even going so far as to make a comment to Liam. Liam just smirks, showing off those cute little dimples, as reader walks over and kisses him in front of everyone. New guy just stares in absolute shock (and horror when he realizes the woman he’s been objectifying is his wingleader’s girl.) Need a fic like this immediately 😭

I love this so much. I don't have the bandwidth to write this into a whole chapter but I DO have ideas. so here they are. (future Liz here… I got very carried away. but it’s Liam, so it’s fine.)

this guy clearly thinks he's hot shit. not even bonded yet, but his ego is bigger than Tairn's. so of course he goes after you, a third year with a leadership position at the top of your class. (because Liam's girl is as perfect as him.)

at this point you're used to these boys coming in and trying to flex on everyone. so you know how to brush it off. it's so routine that you don't even mention it to Liam, because you've got more important things to do / discuss.

anyway.

a couple weeks go by of the same thing, until one day, mister confidence is just in the wrong place at the wrong time. running his mouth without realizing who's around him, watching you demonstrate something and making comments to his friends instead of paying attention. Liam's about to elbow him and tell him to shut up, and then he realizes that they're talking about you.

immediately, he's upset — he's just itching to tell this guy off, both for talking when he's supposed to be listening to directions that could save his life, and also for saying those things about you, making comments on your body and how much he wants to... you know what I’m getting at here. anyway.

you can see Liam standing at the back of the gym, can see the visible frustration on his face and the way his jaw is clenched, his shoulders tight and tense... and you know it's hard to upset our sunshine boy, so something bad must have happened.

you wrap up the demonstration, get the youngins paired up to work, and then you slip away to Liam and give him a little kiss, because that’s your default greeting, that’s just automatic at this point when you see him, and take his hand and ask what’s wrong.

and then all the stress and tension just fades out of him, and he gives you a genuine smile, pulls you closer and holds you in a way that makes it clear that you’re a couple.

normally he isn’t one for PDA, so you’re a little surprised, but you don’t question it at all, just happy to cuddle up with him, resting your head on his shoulder and taking a moment to relax — his presence is always so soothing, and you don’t get moments like this very often in your very busy days as a wingleader and a section leader.

you don’t even notice the boy’s slack-jawed look as he realizes that you have a boyfriend. you’re too busy appreciating the moment you get to spend with Liam — but over your shoulder, he’s definitely smirking at the kid, like… get fucked, she’s mine. not that our boy would ever say that. he’s just thinking it really hard.

he gets a little pouty once you're behind closed doors, though, and tells you about it.

you laugh, and remind him that the first year boys can look all they want, but he's the only one who can touch, and if they do, they're going to get their nose broken. and that he's the only one who can set foot in your room, because you absolutely warded them like Xaden and Violet's.

that pacifies him, but he’s still thinking about it for the rest of the day.

he doesn’t consider himself particularly possessive, but he realizes that he just wants people to know that you’re his — or more so that you’re together and in love, and you’re it for each other.

the pair of you have always been focused on the present, the incredibly stressful lives that you lead here at this death trap of a school. but now he starts really thinking about the future.

you’ll be graduating soon, a pair of lieutenants headed off… somewhere. he hasn’t decided yet. he’ll get his choice, being a wingleader. but what about you? section leaders aren’t promised anything. there’s only one other way to guarantee that you’ll stay together… and damn, does he like the idea of you having matching name patches on your flight jackets.

but you deserve a real proposal, a romantic one, not something rushed, decided out of practicality. and when is too soon in your relationship to talk about that? you’ve been together since your threshing, but it feels like a lot longer than that — everything you’ve endured has brought you closer, he supposes.

you curl further into his side with a sleepy hum. “what’s on your mind?”

he’s about to tell you it’s nothing, but you know him better than that. “you have that look on your face,” you mumble, your eyes still closed. “know you’re thinkin' about something.”

“about you," he answers honestly, lifting the arm you have slung around his waist and finding your hand, taking it in his. it fits perfectly, your skin smooth against the callouses and scars decorating his hands from years of making his carvings. a dangerous hobby, you’d joked. you have a point. he’s amassed more tiny injuries from his own knives than from anything Basgiath has put him through. “about us.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he answers, his thumb brushing over your ring finger, where a wedding band would go. “about the future.”

“two kids and a cat,” you murmur. “and trips to Morraine in the summer. rent a little house on the lake for a week or two, and just lay around.”

“sounds perfect.”

you just hum in reply, too tired to keep talking. Liam presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling the covers a little higher. “I love you.”

“Love y’too.”

[korn-dawg]

I wanna be mean to loser ellie so bad mock her a bit make fun of her moans put a vib in her and ask her in a sickenly sweet tone what’s wrong in public could you write anything about this hc or anything

YESSSS OMFG THIS IS FIRE HOLY SHIT OFC I CAN 🤩🤩

✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯

loser!ellie who comes home one day with a remote controlled vibrator, giggling childishly when she shows it to you

loser!ellie who jokingly suggests going on a date to a fancy place to test it out

loser!ellie who doesn't expect the enthusiastic yes from you, thinking you were gonna shut her down

loser!ellie who thought you were going to be the one wearing it. dear, was she wrong

loser!ellie who walks into the restaurant, trying so hard to ignore the toy shoved in her cunt, pushing right up against her g-spot when she sits down

loser!ellie who gets through the first few minutes of conversation, slowly starting to relax. that is, until the waiter walks up to the table

loser!ellie who watches you slide your hand in the pocket of your bomber jacket, the same pocket you slipped the remote in when you two got out of the car earlier

loser!ellie who starts trying to place her order before the damned thing inside her buzzes to life at the highest setting possible, causing her to jerk forward with a half-smothered moan, almost slamming her face into the table

loser!ellie who gives you the dirtiest look when you order for her, pawning her behavior off as "she's getting over a cold"

loser!ellie who finally catches her breath when you turn it off, giving her the most nauseating sweet "are you sure you're okay, babe?" to which she responds to with a disgruntled "i'm fine."

loser!ellie who thought you were going to apologize with a kiss on the cheek, leaning into your lips until a imitation of her noise hit her ears

loser!ellie who gets so red as she pushes your face away while you giggle, the deep crimson almost masking her freckles

loser!ellie who panics when the waiter comes back, already seeing the sick little grin spreading across your face

loser!ellie who starts feeling the buzz again as he starts talking, asking if you two wanted the AC turned up cause he noticed how red she was

loser!ellie who looks at you to answer, only for you to gesture for her answer instead, turning the intensity of the vibrator up

loser!ellie who manages a little "yes, please." before gripping your leg under the table, fingernails digging into your thigh as she attempts to concentrate on not cumming in her pants that very second

loser!ellie who unfortunately didn't get the relief of an orgasm, as you turned it off completely right as she was about to tip over the edge

loser!ellie who was getting annoyed with you keeping up the concerned girlfriend façade as you dabbed her cheeks with your napkin, talking how the waiter was right about how red she was

loser!ellie who could barely eat when the food came, especially not when you turned the toy on every time she went to take a bite, acting as if nothing was happening at all

loser!ellie who excused herself from the table to go to the washroom, to which you didn't follow after, opting to just mess with the remote without seeing her reaction. not being able to see her reaction, though, meant you didn't know when to stop

loser!ellie who was thanking whoever was watching over her that the restrooms were private, because she was currently leaning against the sink with the small object vibrating inside her, unable to support her own weight

loser!ellie who reached for her phone when it started buzzing in her back pocket, watching as slews of dirty texts from you came through, one after the other

loser!ellie who came twice in the washroom, hand clasped tight over her mouth as her legs shook violently, almost falling over multiple times

loser!ellie who looked like a newborn giraffe walking back to the table, nearly tumbling over her own feet

loser!ellie who rushed you along while you ate, the feeling of her soaked boxers pressing her own sticky cum back up against her pussy being oh so unbearable

loser!ellie who jumps on you as soon as you two were back in the car, reaching a hand in her pants and pulling out cum-soaked fingers, shoving them in your mouth harshly

loser!ellie who watches as you sucked them clean before grabbing her by the face opening her mouth by squeezing her cheeks tightly, spitting her arousal back onto her tongue, telling her to never try that again

loser!ellie who lowkey got her shit rocked when you two got back to your place, twitching in overstimulation and fucked stupid by your strap by the end of the night

✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯

hey gyus i think i got carried away at that end part there

✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯✮✯

taglist !! :

@lolitalovess @saturnhas82moons @odettesoddities @mars4hellokitty @hihihhihahahha @peskylez @kylorey25 @lipglosskxsses @hwasddeongbyeoli @kaykeryyy @kissyslut @meow4510

(i hope i didn't fuck that up and tag a random ass blog 😭)

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ No Longer Strangers — Awakened Pure Vanilla x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a part two to this fic as an apology for the angst, hehehe

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It had been troubling, being apart without Pure Vanilla. It felt like a very piece of your souljam had been torn out, leaving you a devestated mess in the meantime. While this "Recluse" took off, you tried to pick up the pieces he had left. Yet, to your surprise, you were now face to face with the same Cookie who had said those terrible things to you. His clothes had a white tinge rather than black, the blues completely gone. The eye of his staff now sported a brilliantly shining star, matching the mark on his forehead. His expression was deeply troubled as he spoke with you. "My dear, I-... I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am" he began softly, voice thick with guilt.

You shook off your surprise at his new form, fixing him with a glare. "You should be. Do you have any idea what it was like, having you talk to me like I was nothing? Hearing you treat me like a problem?". Pure Vanilla winced, his hands nervously rubbing the handle of his staff. "I.. wasn't myself. I was under Shadow Milk's control, and... I thought you'd be safer without me. In some way, I... thought I was helping". "Well you weren't" you replied firmly. Pure Vanilla frowned more, slowly stepping closer to you. He extended a nervous hand, and you noticed how it shook. Your expression softened, and with only a moment's hesitation, you allowed him to take your hand into his.

You watched with a suspicious gaze as Pure Vanilla guided your hand to his lips, gently pecking the back of it "Oh, my dove... you didn't deserve such cruelty. Never in all my years have I ever dreamt of hurting you, even in my nightmares". As he spoke, you heard his tone waver. Something in your chest lurched painfully, but you tried to stuff it down. "But you did," you told him, voice now soft as the old aches returned "I know it wasn't in your control, but I can't forget it". "I understand" Pure Vanilla said.

He then kneeled down, bowing a little. He pressed your hand to his forehead. "Please, let me make it up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life letting you know that I adore you every day, each more than the last" he said, tone having warbled into near-begging. "Pure Vanilla..." You said, and he cut you off by opening up his eyes. You could see the darkness that once suffocated them was now gone, the soft blue and yellow you'd come to love being visible once again. He gently moved your hand to his cheek, and kissed your palm. "I'm sorry, my dove. And I can't say it enough. I can't spend another moment thinking of how you looked that last time we met"

The memory fluttered across your mind, the way it stung seeing your beloved look at you with such disdain. All traces of coldness was gone, now the healer was leaning into your hand like it was the last time he'd ever feel your touch. You felt some dampness from his eye reach your hand, and that alone broke you. You inched closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. "I- I thought you'd-" you began, voice breaking up with emotion. Pure Vanilla wrapped you in his arms, a sensation you previously feared never feeling again. "Shh, shh, it's alright. I'm back now, you see? It's just me" he murmured.

You couldn't help but melt into his hold, pouring all the agony you'd felt into tears while dissolving in his arms. He sniffled, a small whimper leaving him as he cried along with you. It took several moments, but when you pulled back, Pure Vanilla began kissing the tears off of your dough, wiping your eyes clean with his hands. "I love you, my dove" he said quietly "More than anything. You don't have to forgive me just yet, but I'll try every day to prove it to you". You chuckled a little. It was so uniquely him, and for the first time in a long while, you felt he was himself again. His voice, the one you remembered, the one that comforted you countless times, was back.

You gave a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. Almost as soon as it happened, Pure Vanilla gently cupped your face, bringing you back in for a proper kiss. It was chaste, but you felt relief fill your form at feeling his kiss again. You held it with him until it slowly broke, Pure Vanilla simply breathing in the moment. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Anything you want, my love, and I'll grant it to you" he said. You smiled, hugging him once more "I'll tell you when I think of it. Can we just stay here for now?". "Of course," Pure Vanilla said, shifting to be fully sitting and putting you right in his lap. He gently pet your hair while keeping a tight hold around your waist. You leaned into him, feeling whole once again.

[cosykitchenwitch]

I almost angry-cried just seeing a clip of it on the news…

Again and again, felon trump reminds me of the sad little man who abused me - the way he spoke to me, making baseless accusations, steamrolling over me every time I’d attempt to respond, telling me I’m being disrespectful, outright lying to my face ABOUT ME, gaslighting me about things he or I said earlier in that same conversation, not letting me speak for myself and shoving words into my mouth or twisting the meaning of the things I actually did say, just to fit the narrative he walked in with in order to paint me as the enemy regardless of what I said or did…

Genuinely I think these people are terrible people who don’t deserve the life they have. They don’t deserve any modicum of power or influence. I wish them only the worst. Every day I pray for them to exit this world and let us have peace.

volodymyr zelenskyy is the strongest man alive for sitting through this utter bullshit without swearing or punching the fuckers or angry crying. fuck trump and fuck everyone who did not vote for harris and fuck russia.

like i can’t even read this bit of news without feeling humiliated and i’m not even fucking there.

i am terrified that i will have to sit back and watch the loss of ukraine in front of my eyes.

[brawberryz]

touch me i scream

Batfam Yan! × Elizabeth Afton!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / I don't know if this could be considered "neglected" reader since the negligence is only on Bruce's part, so maybe)? / FNAF AU!

Tw: child neglect, abuse, child murder, murder, maltreatment, yandere behaviors , self-harm, brief mention of suicide, isolation, knife use, toxic relationships, domestic violence, brief mention of drugs, psychological abuse, manipulation, dark themes

Weird

That's how you could consider your life, it was quite strange and boring, you always spent your time at home

Summer vacation had started and all you could do was stay home

You didn't have any friends, you only had your brothers

Your life was quite lonely, the only one you trusted too much was Damian

But these last few months he was behaving in a strange way, he had dark circles under his eyes and he never slept

The only times he did was for a short time, he seemed scared most of the time

Every time you got up in the early morning to drink water you found him crying on the floor of his room

He said he saw monsters, terrifying versions of the animatronics your father built

Those nights you used to accompany him so he could sleep but even so his paranoia didn't stop

A lot of blame was also because of Jason, he kept scaring Damian with that stupid foxy mask

You had tried to defend him but still Jason never he stopped

He always found a way to scare Damian

Richard had been the only one who managed to stop Jason's pranks

He was the older brother, he was hardly ever home before because he spent his time with his friends or at university

But since your mother disappeared he had to take care of all of you, he had to be a mother and father at the same time

Because he knew that Bruce didn't care about any of his children, sometimes you wished you could get away from here

Escape far away from this stupid "home", it stopped being considered home years ago

Your "father" who didn't even deserve to be called that, was an idiot and violent

At night you could hear your mother crying, she always fought with Bruce

It was normal for them to fight, and your father didn't mind hitting or insulting your mother

Richard tried many times to defend your mother from Bruce But the only thing he earned was a hit

You didn't understand why your mother She never fought back, she just accepted the blows and insults

But one night, you couldn't sleep because of the screams in the kitchen, they were fighting again

You slowly got out of bed to go spy, you wanted to know what was going on

It was a little weird that your parents were fighting at this time of night, you got a little closer to the door

Not enough, but you could barely see anything

The last thing you could hear was your mother screaming as she begged Bruce not to do it

You ran scared to your room, you could barely process what you saw

Your mother's screams and pleas were still in your head since that day

You hated yourself for never being able to tell what you saw

But your fear of ending up the same way as your mother prevented you from doing so

That day you realized what kind of monster your father was

You hated him so much, too much

You hated having to Seeing his face every day, you hated him touching you or just giving you a hug

You felt like gagging just thinking about him, he was the most reprehensible human being ever

And you hated him more for what he had done to Tim

Tim was your father's assistant, he used to work at the pizzeria with him

He also used to be a security guard at night

You could consider him a friend Even though he was much older than you

Sometimes you used to accompany your father to work and those days you took the opportunity to go talk to him

When you went back to accompany your father to work you looked for Tim all over the pizzeria, then your father told you that Tim had decided to quit

You frowned, you knew he was lying

He always lied, you just nodded pretending that you understood

Until one time your father asked you to take out the trash at the pizzeria, he said it would be good if you were useful for something

You just accepted it, a little offended by his comment. As you walked out the back door and put the trash in the bin, you saw something strange in a bag.

A little disgusted, you put your hand inside the trash and pulled out an identification plate.

But it wasn't just any old one, it was Tim's.

It had some dried blood stains, the blood didn't look old, it still had that red color.

You swallowed nervously and you felt like gagging. You fell to the rough ground and small tears fell from your eyes.

Someone you cared about had disappeared again and you couldn't do anything, absolutely nothing.

After that day, the streets of your neighborhood were full of "wanted" posters with Tim's face.

His parents were devastated by the disappearance of their son. He was so young and had a secure future.

Your father gave his condolences to Tim's parents.

What a hypocrite.

That was the only thing your head could think. Maybe you were just a little girl. but you understood much more than others would think

I hate you, Bruce Wayne

_

You officially hated this family

From one day to the next your brothers started acting weird, a few days ago you met a boy

They were the same age and he was your first friend in a long time

But as soon as they found out you made a friend they went crazy

Richard didn't let you go out alone anymore, and he sent Jason to keep a close eye on you

You could barely get close to your new friend without Jason giving you a murderous look

And because of that you had lost a friend, he was the first one you had

And he was gone, then you had a talk with Richard

He tried to justify himself saying that that boy wasn't a good influence

Why do you need friends when you have your brothers? They are much better than anyone you could ever meet

Also Damian had been clinging to you too much, his paranoia was multiplied by a thousand

You thought that this paranoia was because of those "pills" that your father gave him

You knew that they were not sleeping pills, those pills made him hallucinate

Bruce wanted to destroy each one of his children, and then he was going to rebuild them the way he wanted

Who would think that you would be his next victim, too bad things didn't go as well as he thought

_

Your father's new pizzeria had opened to the public, "Sister location"

This time he opened the pizzeria without Clark's help, the two of them used to be best friends

Bruce and Clark opened the first pizzeria together, but since the death of Jon his son everything had changed for him

He had fallen into great guilt and depression

The death of his son and the unexpected divorce with his wife had left him in a bad state

He had decided to withdraw from the project

Leaving Bruce alone, and it was something that didn't bother him either

He had gotten what he wanted, he had already gotten Clark and his stupid morals out of his way

Your plan was almost complete, he had justice on his side

He had made sure that not a single policeman suspected him, you could say that he was about to commit a perfect crime

_

You found yourself crying on the floor, your cheek hurt from your father's blow

You had decided to enter your father's study without permission and spilled coffee on his plans

Bruce had become furious, you tried to apologize but it only made his anger grow

"Can't you do something right!?"

You could only look down as more tears fell from your eyes

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident..."

Bruce sighed angrily before forcibly lifting you off the ground and telling you to get out of his studio

You just nodded scared, running out the metal door

You hated this, sometimes you just wished you could die

You didn't want to be here, you wanted this to be over once and for all

_

You walked through the aisles of the pizzeria, your cheek still hurt

Your tears had dried but your hate and sadness were still there

Your body stopped as soon as you saw Baby

The animatronic that your father had made for you, one day you gave him a drawing and he used that as inspiration

That day you were so happy, for the first time you had felt your father's love

Too bad this was a trap disguised as a gift

You entered the shameless room where the animatronic was

It seemed strange to you that it was separated from the other animatronics

As soon as the animatronic detected you, its eyes sparkled

"Baby..."

The animatronic's name came out of your lips, your eyes sparkled with happiness

After a long time you could finally see it

The animatronic's stomach opened surprising you

A small ice cream came out of it, it was your favorite flavor

You thought that your father had made it just for you

You approached slowly, your arm getting close to the ice cream

You could barely react when the claw pierced you and threw you towards the animatronic

A scream of pain was heard throughout the room, you felt your ribs breaking and your organs being crushed by the claw

The last thing you felt was your bones being destroyed as you completely entered the stomach of the animatronic

The animatronic barely caught your body inside its stomach when it turned off, her task had been completed

The only thing left in this bloody scene was the blood on the floor and the stomach of the animatronic

That day the innocence of another child had been snatched away by Bruce Wayne's claws

And this time the victim was his daughter

A small tinkling in the eyes of the animatronic illuminated the empty and dark room, they had changed color

The same color as your eyes

_

Bruce had gone to He checked the animatronics, he thought they had completed their mission

He was very surprised when he found your body crushed between the wires of baby

At that moment something changed inside him, you weren't supposed to end up like this

If one of your brothers had ended up like this he wouldn't care much, but you?

Yes, he was a horrible father but there was a part of him that cared about you

But he also discovered something, remnant

Your body had produced that

Also your soul had merged with the animatronic, it was something he realized when he saw baby's eyes

That day he had fallen further into imminent madness

But everything has its end

_

Richard sighed tiredly as he parked his car in front of the "Sister location" store

It had been a year since everything happened

Too bad your death wasn't the only incident that happened in the family

Since your death Richard began to neglect his other brothers, guilt consumed him and he had no one to vent to

Also the jokes had increased on Jason's part, and he had begun to take it out on Damian

And his jokes began to become more dangerous

until one day on Damian's birthday Jason decided to play one last joke on him

He decided to put him inside the mouth of one of the animatronics, too bad not everything went well

The animatronic's jaw ended up crushing Damian's skull while he asked Jason to get him out of there

That had marked Jason forever, he had fallen into a deep depression

Your death and Damian's death filled him with guilt, he had killed one of his

He was a murderer

After a time of depression and self-harm Richard found him hanging in his room

Richard's mental state began to worsen, it seemed as if the world was against him

His life was full of misfortunes

The only thing that kept him afloat was a little voice in his head that told him not to give up

It sounded just like you

Then Bruce decided to disappear by moving somewhere and only leaving a farewell note

From time to time he sent Richard money but he had to work so as not to end up on the street

Because Bruce cared very little about his safety

Until one day Bruce called him, told him to go to sister location

He was going to refuse until Bruce confessed everything to Richard

You were there, or well

Your body was there, he told him that you died because of an animatronic and that your soul and body were there

And the only way to Freeing you was going back there, that was the only thing Bruce needed to tell Richard before he grabbed all his things to go to that abandoned pizzeria

He sighed nervously as he approached the pizzeria, he had lost you years ago

And the guilt continued to eat away at him

But this time he had another chance and he had to do whatever it took to free you from that hell

But it was just a trap, a trap disguised as hope and sweet lies

Your soul had been corrupted and the only thing left was hate and resentment

Resentment for the hate of the man who did this to you, the purple man

I hate you Bruce Wayne

But this time I will have my revenge, we will have our revenge

I am not afraid of you anymore, not anymore

reuploaded because for some reason tumblr deleted it lol

[rosenclaws]

ma meilleure ennemie || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan loved, lost, fought, and killed you in his world. Now after being thrust into another universe. He finds you in a world where things worked out. How unfair.

warnings: angst, fem pronouns are used for the reader, its kinda a sad ending but like bittersweet more. talks of fighting and violence

wc: 4.2k

a/n: This is based on the song from Arcane! I would highly recommend watching the show btw its amazing and the scene this song is from is absolutely gorgeous. Anyways I hope y'all enjoy <33

Logan was really sick of all this multiverse stuff. Like seriously.

He barely remembers what happened. Wade had taken another one of this universe hopping devices from the TVA in order to complete some mission but as usual the two got into it. Shouting and fighting until Logan's claws went right into the little device. Before either of them could react it exploded. Logan felt like every atom in his body was being ripped apart and put back together. The world was spinning and he wasn’t quite sure where he was anymore.

In the blink of an eye he's not standing next to wade anymore. He in a bedroom. The light shining through the window and birds chirping outside. Logan looks down and sees that he's no longer in a bloody yellow and blue suit, but simple sweatpants and a black shirt. What the actually fuck. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror.

He looks different, just slightly. He had less wrinkles and the bags under his eyes were gone. His hair was a little longer too. It was uncanny as hell. It was him, he was moving his hand and touching his face but it doesn't fully feel like him. He hears laughter outside of his door.

Slowly he opens it, poking his head out to see the hallways bustling with students and teachers. He catches a glimpse of blue fur and he slams the door shut. No no no this isn't real. This is some weird fucked up nightmare dream thing. His heart starts to race as the sights and smells of this odd world start to fuck with his senses. He shuts his eyes and bangs his head against the door. Just wake up already Logan.

Wake. Up.

"You drink too much last night honey?" Logan acts before he can think.

Claws out and slamming whoever had snuck up on him into the door. Logan's eyes widen as he sees you under his arm. Confusion in your eyes as you tug at his arm.

"Fuck! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." You push him away with your powers but Logan's gaze only hardens.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He growls. He should bury these deep in your fucking head.

"I live here?" You furrow your brows as you put your hands up.

You take a step forward but Logan takes on back. His defenses are up and he won't make the same mistake this time. You're dangerous, you're the enemy.

"Logan what's gotten into you?" You ask softly. You try again to reach out and touch him but he flinches away.

"Stay away from me." He pushes past you, shoving you into the wall as he rips the door open and runs down the hall. Ignoring the call of his name.

He wanders aimlessly around the mansion until he finds Charles office. If anyone can explain what was happening it's him.

"Ah Logan, I've been waiting for you to arrive, please sit." Hesitantly he sits down, he can't help but observe everything around him.

The last time he was here, at the mansion, was the worst day of his life. But now everyone's laughing and happy. He blinks and the memories flashes in his mind. The blood that stained the walls, the smell of burning, the screams.

"So much pain. I'm so sorry." Charles wheels over to Logan.

"Hey chuck. Been a long time." Logan grumbles. His hands dig into the chair handles, almost tearing them off the more he lets his mind spiral.

"Forgive me for prying, but your thoughts are incredibly loud." Charles pokes and prods Logan's brain. Seeing glimpses of his world and this one mashing together.

"You're not from here." Logan nods his head.

"I don't know how I got here but, I need to get back."

"Start from the beginning." Logan spills it all.

Starting with his own world. How he walked away and it led to everyone being killed. The years of grieving and killing. How he was found and kidnapped by Wade and how it led to him saving the universe. How their fight led to him being thrown into a completely new timeline. Appearing to have taken over the body of this worlds Logan. And you. How you were in his bedroom and the flurry of emotions that came with it.

In Logan's world you were a very powerful mutant with mind powers. You were kind and friendly, but rumbling deep within you was a terrifying power. Power that could level a city with only the snap of your fingers. Charles had taken you in as a child and nursed your abilities. Teaching you the importance of control. You were his prized student. But then Jean came along and Jean became everything you couldn't be. At least that's what you had always told Logan.

She took the spotlight. She got everyone's love an admiration. People weren't scared of her. Her power was graceful and strong while yours was reckless and something to fear. When Logan rolled around you were a professor. He had caught your eye from the moment he was brought in. A handsome, mysterious stranger. But as always it seemed that Jean was the one to grab his attention. Which Logan admits is true, at first. But Jean didn't want him and he respected that.

Logan met you in the middle of the night one day. Small talk turned into more as the sun came up and the two of you were still wrapped up on the couch. You understood him more than anyone and he got you. Your romance may have started slow but it grew into a pillar of Logan's life. He loved you. God he loved you so fucking much. You were his light, his love. You were never a second choice to him, but the right one. The only one that mattered.

But he got to you too late.

All that pain and doubt had been manifesting years before he got there and after one bad mission you exploded. The team had turned on you, told you that it was your fault. It was misplaced anger from everyone. Including him. A shame he carries to this day. Your powers became uncontrollable. If not for Charles and Jean together you could have leveled the entire mansion. Logan tried to console you, to bring you back to him but it was too late. You saw the fear and the hatred growing from those you once considered family.

So you left. The brotherhood got to you before Logan could and the next time he saw you was on the opposite side of battle. You had changed. He barely recognized you anymore. You were cruel and ruthless with your powers.

For years the two of you fought on opposite sides. Logan tried to fight for you. He was convinced the you that he knew was still in there but no one else believed him. They told him over and over that you were gone. That the woman he loved was no more and only a cold blooded villain remained.

You hurt his friends, you threatened the mansion, the kids who once looked up to you now shivered at your name. It hurt him to his core, but eventually he accepted it. His love wasn't enough. Nothing could bring you back. You were gone.

It all cumulated about five years after you left. The brotherhood wanted to use you to wipe out all those who opposed them. Innocent people included. Anyone who stood in their way. The X-Men were sent to stop them. It was a bloody, long, intense fight. Allies and enemies being taken down left and right until it was you and Logan left.

"Please sweetheart, I miss you." Logan begs.

"Come back home."

"That place is not my home anymore." You spit. Nothing but hatred in your eyes as you pushed Logan to the ground. Your powers keeping him from moving.

"I'm going to kill you and all your friends. Nothing is going to stand in our way. Nothing!" Your powers let him go but you grab him by the neck.

For a split second Logan thought he saw regret in your eyes. Something. Anything other than the empty soullessness from before.

Logan! Take it! He hears Jean speak in his mind.

She was nursing Scotts wounds, she could barely stand on her own. With a broken roar he digs his claws right into you. He watches as the light drains from your eyes. As the blood pours from the wounds he gave you. He holds you in his arms. Silently whispering that he loves you, that he's sorry.

Your body goes limp and when Logan can no longer hear your heartbeat he knows that you're truly gone.

Why you let go of Logan he'll never know. You had to have known what the risk was. Why would you ever give him free use of his hands, of his claws? A part of him wonders if this is what you wanted.

Your death took a heavy toll on him. He started drinking more and more. The conflicted feelings weighed heavily on him. Most would celebrate your death but he mourned you every damn day. Mourned the woman you were, the woman that you loved.

"What is she doing here?" Logan asks lowly. Memories of his version of you flashing through his head.

"Here she never lost control, never joined the brotherhood.

"What changed?"

"In this world, Jean came to me first. She was my student first and thus Jean helped me train her to control her powers. She was my star student. Never feared her powers." Logan scoffs.

Was that all it took? Was that little difference all it took to save you? If he had loved you enough could he have saved you? Or were you already too far gone by then.

"We'll work on getting you home. I'll talk to hank and get back to you. For now, just try your best to adjust." Logan is dismissed.

Now what? Maybe he should just hole himself in his room until its time to go home. Until he remembers that you're there too. Suddenly he hears kids screaming, his senses kicking into high gear as he runs outside, claws out on instinct. He sees you with a bunch of kids running around screaming. He doesn't have time to think. He just acts.

"Get away from them!" Logan yells. Making everyone stop in their tracks. He lunges at you and you use your powers to slam him to the ground.

"What the fuck is your problem! We were playing a game!" You shout.

"Kids, go back inside." You command and they slowly file inside, whispering amongst themselves.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Logan growls once you let him back up.

He puts his claws away but the hostility doesn't fade. How could it? His brain is so fucked up right now, he had long accepted that you were gone and now he's thrown into a world where you aren't a villain anymore. That you're the woman he loves again but he just can't let himself trust this. He can't. What if Charles is wrong? He just...he can't do this.

"What did you think? Did you actually think I was going to hurt them?!" You ask mostly as a joke.

"Logan, you've been off since this morning." You reach your hand out but he doesn't take it. He pushes himself up. Putting up these walls that you swore you broke a long time ago.

"I think its best if you stay the hell away from me." He walks away without another word.

Leaving you utterly confused.

Logan locks himself away for the next couple days. Only coming out when he was called by Hank and Charles. He could feel your eyes on him every time. Like a sad puppy he kicked to the curb. He doesn't even look at you. He knows he can't. If he does he'll cave. The problem is that Logan knows he can't stay here. He's only setting himself up for heartbreak if he lets you in. Nothing but pain and what could have been. He just doesn't think he can mourn you anymore. He just wants to go home. To forget this ever happened.

Once again he can't sleep, deciding to walk around the mansion instead. Pictures line the walls, some that he recognizes and others he doesn't. He stops and one in particular. Jean and Scotts wedding. Scott looks happy and Jean is a beautiful bride, but that's not what catches his eye.

It's you standing right beside her. A big smile on your face. You look gorgeous. So happy and carefree.

"I remember that day," He jumps hearing your voice once again. He turns to see you standing away from him, but staring at the picture. His claws don't come out this time at least.

"Can't believe Scott even wanted you as one of his groomsmen with how much shit you give him." You say softly.

"Yeah," Logan looks over to the other side of the photo. Seeing himself dressed in a suit. Except Logan's eyes are on you.

"Charles told me. About your situation. I understand why you reacted the way you did. I'd be freaked out too." You rub your arm awkwardly.

"How much did he tell you." He asks.

"Not much. Just that you're from another timeline and you're trying to get back." Logan grunts.

"That...you've been through a lot of pain and loss." Logan's breath hitches. So Charles didn't tell you any specifics. Maybe that's for the best.

"I don't know...what we are in your world. But I want you to know that I'm here for you Logan." He clenches his fits, god how can you be so sweet to him after he almost stabbed you twice. He'll never understand.

"Thanks. I'm sorry If I scared you before." He says.

"You can never scare me." You say and Logan shuts his eyes.

You used to say that to each other. Logan was made to be a weapon and you were a ticking time bomb. Yet not once were you ever afraid of each other. Both of you looking past what others saw.

"What...what am I? To you?" You ask hesitantly.

The question's been eating you alive since you learned about this whole thing. Logan takes a deep breath. Turning to look at you and feeling his heart sink down to his feet.

"It's a long story, one you don't want to hear." He says with a sigh.

"I mean, I have time. I just. I don't want you to have to carry it all alone." You reach up and touch his arm. Logan's eyes close as he feels your fingers trail down to his hand, lacing your fingers with his. It's been so long since he's held your hand.

"Maybe another time sweetheart." Logan squeezes your hand, using all his willpower to let go of your hand.

You watch sadly as Logan walks away, disappearing back into his room without another word.

He lays on the bed staring at the ceiling nursing a glass of whiskey. It's been a week since he got here. They're close to getting him home. There's muffled music coming from the living room.

It's Storms birthday. Logan should be out there, maybe to keep up appearances but a party is the last thing he wants to be at right now. There's a knock at the door and he ignores it. Until another one, and another. Finally he just gets up to tell them to fuck off. He opens the door to see Charles.

"I said no." He mumbles. Ready to slam the door but Charles stops him.

"I'm not here for that. We should be ready to send you home within the hour. That being said. I know it's been a long time since you saw most of us. Consider saying goodbye this time." With that Charles leaves, leaving Logan stunned.

Quietly he grabs his jacket and heads to the party. Sneaking in as best as he can. Sticking to the corner of the room. He sees Storm talking to Jean and Scott. They're smiling and laughing. Jean spots Logan from across the room. Offering him a small smile.

His eyes move over to the middle of the room. They had pushed the furniture around to make room for a dance floor. He watches as He's not strong enough for this? Rogue, Kitty, and Bobby were dancing. Laughing as they take turns making up stupid dance moves. Jubilee was using her powers to create fireworks that lit up the whole room.

She catches Logan's gaze and waves happily. Seeing everyone again, seeing them happy and thriving. It made his heart ache. To know that at least in one universe, everyone is okay. No thanks to him that is.

"Logan! Come dance!" Jubilee shouts, making everyone's eyes turn to him.

"No thanks kid, I don't do that." He grumbles.

"Oh come on Logan, it's a party." She begs.

Logan sighs and pushes himself off the wall. Walking to the dance floor taking Jubilees hand and spinning her around a little bit. A small smile crossing his face.

He remembers Jubliee asking him to dance once. Back in his timeline. She was a kid. There was this school dance and she wanted to go so badly. He took her hands and she stepped on his toes. He made her swore up and down to never speak of it but he remembers it fondly.

"Mind if I cut in?" He turns to see you standing there. You're all dressed up looking so pretty. Jubliee bows out, wiggling her eyebrows making Logan roll his eyes.

"Hi." You say softly as Logan holds out his hand.

"Hi." He says.

You and Logan move in sync. Like nothing had happened as the two of you move to the music. Logan smiles as he twirls you around and dips you. He lets go of the weight on his shoulders. Letting himself just exist for once. To enjoy holding you in his arms and dancing to the music. He'll face reality when he goes back. But tonight, he'll dance.

When the music lets up he drags you outside away from the noise and the prying eyes. You walk through the garden in a nice quiet. He leans down and picks a flower from the ground, putting it behind your year.

"Pretty." You bite your lip as you tug your coat tighter.

You sit on a bench and Logan joins you. From this angle you can see how lively the mansion is tonight. The party, the lights on in the bedrooms. Its so homey. Logan smiles, a part of his heart feels like it's patching itself up. At least its not all bad in every universe right?

"You go back tonight right?" You ask and Logan nods.

"Are you happy to go back?" Logan looks over at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I uh, I don't know." The truth is he wants to stay.

God he wants to stay so badly. To live here and be happy. No worries about the world ending or being reminded of his dead friends. But...He can't stay. As badly as he wants to this isn't his life. You aren't his girlfriend.

As he was told before. All the pain he went through made him the man he is now, there are people out there who still need him. Who need the Wolverine to fight for them. You lean your head on his shoulder.

"I wish I could stop time. Just for a second." He mumbles.

His arm wrapping around your shoulder as he watches them sing happy birthday. You lift your head, staring into his eyes. What sad lonely eyes they are. He leans in, foreheads touching as he cups your face gently.

"Can we, can we just pretend like it's the first time?" He asks in a low whisper.

You nod your head as you close your eyes and let his lips touch yours. The kiss means fucking everything to Logan. His thumb brushes your cheek as he kisses you with ever ounce of love he still has deep in his heart. He knows that you aren't the same woman but fuck he just hopes you know that he's sorry that he wasn't enough. He hopes you know that he loves you.

You tug on his hair and Logan groans. His other hand resting on your back pulling you closer. He reluctantly pulls apart from you. Breathing heavily as he catches his breath. There's this silly smile on your face, one that always appeared after Logan kissed you no matter how much you tried to hide it. He missed it.

Logan. It's time.

He hears Charles in his head. His smile dropping as he realizes it's time to go. "I can go with you down to the lab." You offer as Logan stands up. He takes your hand and helps you up, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently.

"No, I should do this on my own." The truth is he knows that if you're down there he won't be able to go through that damn portal.

"Don't look so sad, You'll have your Logan back soon sweetheart." He wipes away a stray tear from your face.

"I know. It's just, hard to say goodbye." You take the flower from your hair and place it in his jacket pocket.

"Something to remember me by." You walk hand in hand back into the living room.

Logan takes one last look around the room. A strange sense of peace coming over him as everyone smiles and waves to him. It's not goodbye for them, but it is for him. But at least this time, he got to say the words. Logan lets go of your hand, sparing you one last look as he steps into the elevator. He can't bring himself to say anything. You know what he wants to say.

The elevator moves slowly as he heads down to the lab. Silently he steps out and heads towards the lab.

"Logan wait!" He freezes as he hears your voice.

"How did you-"

"The stairs. I took the stairs." You blurt out. He nods, standing there unsure of what to say.

"Can I ask you one question before you go?" You ask breathlessly. He nods. He can hear something happening in the lab, he doesn't have much time.

"In your universe, did you love me? Were we happy?" Maybe its an odd question. After all you just made out outside. But you don't know what this Logan had been through, if things were different or how different they were. You just needed to know. You always had a hunch your love was stronger than a simple timeline.

Logan takes a long look at you. Committing you to memory, so that now he can remember you like this. Smiling and happy and unafraid of who you are.

"I loved you more than anything sweetheart, I still do." With a soft smile you take one last look at Logan before returning back up the stairs. When Logan returns he'll be the man you knew before, but you don't think you'll ever forget this other Logan. Not for a long time.

"You ready Logan?" Hank asks as he hooks Logan up to a machine.

This was supposed to separate the two Logan's. He just prays it doesn't kill him. Logan closes his eyes. Similar to the feeling before he grunts as his cells seem to tear apart once again. Only this time when the pain stops he's back in his bloody suit. The other Logan is laying on the ground. Knocked out from whatever the hell Hank managed to do.

Before their very eyes an orange portal appears. They must have finally pinpointed the anomaly once the two had been separated. Before he steps through he turns around, nodding his head at Hank and then Charles.

"It was good to see you again Chuck, Thanks for everything." Logan says.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest as he steps through the orange portal. In a flash he's at the TVA headquarters, standing in front of Wade.

"Peanut! There you are, oh I was worried sick." Wade jumps into his arms and Logan just drops him. Wade stands up and dusts himself off.

"We need to get you chipped or something. Maybe a bell to wear around your neck." Logan rolls his eyes and just follows the TVA agent in front of them.

"I went to a world where dogs could talk. What about you?" Wade asks as they're brought back home. Logan thinks for a moment. He sticks his hand in the pocket of his suit. His body freezing as he feels the soft petals of a flower.

"Hello? Earth to Wolvie? What having some emotional flashback to something only the readers know about?" Wade waves his hand in front of Logans face.

"I was thinking asshole." Logan shoves his hand away. Smiling as he tucks the flower deep in his pocket, deciding that he'll keep his adventure to himself for now.

"Anything you want to share with the class?" Wade asks. Logan just shakes his head.

"No, nothing worth mentioning."

[hanniescookie]

is it that hard? - jww

pairing - wonwoo x f! reader

genre - fluff, idol au

warnings - none

summary - you know wonwoo likes you, but for some reason, he doesn't say it. not until you're frustrated enough to play a game on him.

author's note - kekekeke @wonkierideul // this is for you my mochi cheek-ed baby!! i hope you like it 😭 i tried, okay? i just hope it makes you smile at least, you're so dear to me my oomf (pls remind me again what it means) may you fulfill your MUA dream one day and may you get to doll wonu up 🤍 love you sm :)

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

Being a successful makeup artist had been your dream since you were a teenager. Your love for makeup only grew with your age, and you made yourself proud after finally landing your dream job.

Being Jeon Wonwoo's makeup artist, however, was certainly not your dream. It might be a privilege, never been a dream.

It isn't that you mind seeing his beautiful face every other day while you doll it up with makeup that suits his outfit of the day. Never that. It's just that you're always too distracted to focus on your job. And Wonwoo doesn't help.

It falls out of your realm of professionalism. You've never been someone who struggles with balancing your personal and professional life, but with this man? You're terrible. Miserable.

He is too good looking for his own good, and being so close to his face half the time serves you no good. It takes everything in you to not just kiss his lips everytime you swipe some lipstick across them.

Wonwoo is not very expressive — that's a known fact. But what people might not know is that Wonwoo is a tease, a little close to a flirt. At least towards you, he is.

You hate how he licks his lips right after you're done applying lipstick just to make your job harder. What's worse is that he does it with a straight face, muttering an aplogy within a second like he didn't realize what he just did.

But you have seen it far too much to know that he does these things deliberately. You don't know if he likes seeing the huff of annoyance you let out, or if he just genuinely hates you.

Either way, you've decided that your work ethics have been compromised enough. You don't like these feelings you've harbored for the idol overtime, and if nothing is down the drain, you'll take your shot today.

When Wonwoo arrives on set an hour before his schedule, you're glad that the whole group isn't here. It's his solo schedule for the day — a photoshoot for his brand deal.

The look for today has to be a little bold, and requires more time than usual. So you start slow, focused on work and trying your best to make him look exactly like the concept demands.

And you're also focused on another task today.

"I'm quitting." You say as nonchalantly as you can, dabbing some concealer to hide a tiny acne mark on his skin.

"Huh?" He raises his brows, unsure if you talked to him.

You meet his eyes for a few seconds before focusing back on his cheek, watching the acne mark slowly disappear. You hope your game plan can work, and if it doesn't, then you're really never seeing this place again. "I said I'm quitting this job."

He continues to look at your face while you turn back to the vanity, fumbling through some eyeshadow palettes. Your heart is throbbing at the weight of his gaze, but you keep going. "I'm telling you because I know you don't get used to changes easily. You'll be more prepared when you see another MUA starting tomorrow."

You turn back, meeting his surprised gaze and you smile a little. "Close your eyes."

He takes a little while to process what you said, and you gladly wait till he does. You can see the effect of your game, and you like it so far.

He closes his eyes slowly, exhaling through his nose. It's quiet for a while till you play with a combination of two dark shades on his eyelids.

"Must you leave?"

You almost don't catch it with how quietly he speaks. Keeping the palette away, you stare at his face with his eyes closed, his question echoing in your head. Your heart swells, and a smile forms on your face. "Did you say something?"

He mutters a quiet no without opening his eyes. You know he's doing it because you haven't asked him to open them yet, and involuntarily, you feel a flutter in your chest. Usually, he would open them before you're even done, but right now he's trying to not upset you. How cute.

"I heard you, though." You say again, leaning against the vanity with your arms folded. He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with eyes full of uncertainty. "Do you have an answer then?"

"Must I leave?" You echo his question, humming thoughtfully. "Good question. The problem is—" you pause, grabbing an eyepencil and leaning down on him. He instinctively closes his eyes, and you smile. "—that my professionalism is threatened here. I can't properly focus on my work with you, Wonwoo."

His eyes snap open before you're even done lining the pencil on his eyelid, earning a sharp wince from you. "See! This is what I mean."

"Sorry," he breathes. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you say, folding your arms neatly once again. "You tell me."

He stares at you blankly for a while, unable to pinpoint exactly where you're coming from. Then his expression shifts, as if he's reminded of something. "Scratch that. Just don't quit?"

You arch an eyebrow despite the little victory dance your insides do at his statement. "Hm? Why?"

"Because—" he pauses, trying to find words. "Because like you said, I'm not good with accepting changes. I am used to you."

You sigh, shaking your head. "Is it that hard?"

"What?"

"Saying the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you like me."

Suddenly, there's pin drop silence in the makeup room. Even the humming of the aircon feels distant, as if coming from a faraway land. All you can hear is your own pulse beating wildly in your ears.

Then with calculated certainty, Wonwoo speaks. "It is."

You feel your throat running dry, and though you know you orchestrated this little game, you have no idea why you're nervous. Do you like him that much?

"But if I say it Y/N, will you stay?"

You can't help but smile. He's cute, and you'll do anything to make him happy. You nod. "I will."

He inhales a mouthful of air, and deeply exhales it all. Licking his dry lips, he looks up in your eyes, taking your hand in his large one hesitantly.

"I like you." He says, as quiet as the room. "I've liked you since the day you first put an insane amount of blush on my cheeks and I complained about looking cute. Please don't quit on me."

You've known that Wonwoo likes you, but nothing could've prepared you for the way he admits it in his low voice while holding your hand gently. You feel your pulse quickening even more if it's possible, and a blush dusts your cheeks.

"You did look cute, though."

"I didn't want to!" He groans, and you end up giggling. He sighs then, smiling along with you nevertheless. "Is that what you say to my confession?"

You shrug, grabbing a lipstick and turning to him. "If you don't mess your lipstick up this time, I'll think about going on a date with you."

He smiles, fingers hooking in yours to tug you closer. You lean closer to him as a result, eyes widening slightly. "Whatever happened to professionalism now?"

"I can compromise a little if I get a boyfriend as handsome as Jeon Wonwoo." You answer, poking his forehead so his head rests back before you begin applying lipstick on his lips.

He does mess his lipstick after your first attempt, and it leads to you kissing him, but you go on a date with him on the weekend anyway.

[aspenmissing]

I don't know if you've done this already, but would you be able to write what the arcane characters would be like as parents? With Sevika and the usual characters?

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7131 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴏɴᴇꜱ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛ! ɪᴅᴋ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a golden glow over the peaceful form of Jayce. His arm was draped over your waist, his breathing steady and deep. For all the chaos that Hextech and politics brought into his life, these moments—the quiet ones at home—were what grounded him.

A soft rustling from the adjoining room had you both stirring. You smiled as Jayce groaned, burying his face into your neck with a muffled, "Five more minutes."

"Tell that to your daughter," you teased, pressing a kiss to his temple before slipping out of bed. Jayce grumbled, but the sound of tiny feet pattering against the wooden floor had him moving.

Your daughter, whom you named Aline, was a bundle of energy with bright eyes and wild hair that matched her father’s. She peeked around the corner with an eager grin. "Mama! Daddy! Wake up!"

Jayce chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. "Alright, little one, what’s the emergency?"

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Breakfast! I'm hungry!"

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as you watched the two loves of your life. Jayce’s expression softened, his love for his daughter evident in the way he held her close. "Alright, sweetheart, pancakes sound good?"

The enthusiastic nod she gave him was answer enough. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before setting her down. "Go set the table with Mama, and I’ll whip up the best pancakes Piltover has ever seen."

=

Breakfast became a ritual in your home. Jayce took pride in making the fluffiest pancakes, ensuring that mornings started with laughter and warmth. Your daughter often insisted on helping. She would sit on the counter, stirring batter while giggling at Jayce’s exaggerated expressions. "You see, Alina, the secret to the best pancakes isn’t just the ingredients, but the love you put into them," he would say, making her eyes widen with wonder.

Raising Alina with Jayce had been an adventure in itself. He was fiercely protective, always ensuring she was safe and cared for. He shielded her from the darker parts of his work, never wanting her to feel the weight of the expectations he bore. But he was also her biggest supporter—whether she wanted to build something in his workshop, learn about the constellations, or even practice fencing, Jayce encouraged her every step of the way.

"Daddy, look! I made something!" Alina exclaimed one afternoon, proudly showing him a small wooden figure she had carved.

Jayce knelt beside her, examining the details with exaggerated seriousness. "This is incredible, sweetheart! Your craftsmanship is already better than mine when I was your age."

Alina beamed with pride, and you watched the moment unfold with a full heart. There was no doubt in your mind that she had inherited her father’s brilliance.

=

One evening, as the three of you sat on the balcony, watching the city lights, Alina curled up between you both, sleepily murmuring about how she wanted to invent things like her father. Jayce’s grip on her tightened just a little as he whispered, "You can do anything you set your mind to, my little spark. And I’ll always be here to help."

You smiled, reaching for his hand. Parenthood wasn’t easy, but with Jayce by your side, it was the greatest adventure of all.

=

As the days passed, the bond between father and daughter only grew stronger. Jayce would take Alina to his workshop, where she would watch him tinker, fascinated by the glowing blue crystals of Hextech. "What makes them shine, Daddy?" she had asked one day.

Jayce chuckled, lifting her onto his worktable. "Well, sweetheart, Hextech is a combination of science and magic. It’s about understanding the laws of the world while daring to push beyond them. Kind of like how you build towers with your blocks—sometimes you have to try different ways to make them stand taller."

Alina nodded seriously, absorbing his words. You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the determination in her expression. She had so much of her father in her.

Jayce’s protectiveness showed in different ways. When Alina scraped her knee, he was there in an instant, lifting her into his lap and gently tending to her wound. "It’s okay to fall, sweetheart. What matters is that you get back up."

And when the time came for her to attend her first school event, he was the proudest father in the crowd, cheering her on as she recited a poem on stage. The love he had for her—and for you—shone in every glance, every reassuring touch, every bedtime story whispered under the glow of her nightlight.

=

One night, after Alina had fallen asleep, Jayce pulled you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Thank you," he murmured. "For giving me this. For giving me her."

You cupped his face, smiling against his lips. "We built this together, Jayce. And there’s no one else I’d want by my side."

As the city of Piltover bustled beyond your home, the three of you remained in your own little world—one built on love, laughter, and the endless possibilities of tomorrow.

VIKTOR

The soft hum of Piltover’s ever-present machinery filled the warmly lit apartment, blending with the rhythmic creaks of Viktor’s cane against the polished wooden floor. The scent of oil and parchment lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of tea that Y/N had left unfinished on the bedside table. He moved carefully, balancing his weight as he stepped closer to the cradle—no, cradles. Two identical wooden frames side by side, each occupied by two tiny, peaceful bundles—Mira and Alric. His golden eyes filled with an emotion so raw and deep it nearly overwhelmed him.

“Shhh, Moje malé hvězdičky,” he murmured, his accent thick with exhaustion and love. “Let your mother rest a while.” (My Little Stars)

Viktor had never imagined himself as a father. His life had always been an uphill battle, dictated by the sharp mind he was gifted with and the frailty of his body. But now, as he cradled one of his children in his arms, while the other stirred gently in their bed, he knew he had never loved anything more fiercely.

A small, furry creature stirred at the foot of the bed—Bramble, their ever-curious poro, blinked sleepily before rolling onto his side, his tiny paws twitching in his dreams. The poro had been a gift from Heimerdinger, a small companion Viktor had grown impossibly fond of, and now, he was just another part of their little family.

Y/N stirred from the bed, her eyes heavy with sleep but filled with warmth as she watched him. “You should rest too,” she whispered, her voice soft yet knowing. “Your leg—”

Viktor waved off her concern with a tired chuckle. “I have spent many nights awake for far lesser reasons than our children.” He settled onto the nearby chair with careful precision, adjusting his cane against the armrest before shifting Mira in his arms. Alric stirred slightly, and Bramble let out a soft, content snuffle before curling closer to the cradles. “Besides, I enjoy this.”

He did. Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain that often gnawed at his joints, there was a peace in these quiet moments. The way Mira’s tiny fingers curled around his own, the warmth of Alric’s small body tucked into the quilt—it was grounding, in a way nothing else had ever been.

He had spent years seeking progress, chasing knowledge and innovation with a single-minded desperation. Piltover was a city of advancements, a beacon of brilliance and invention. He had once believed that was all he needed. But here, in the soft glow of lamplight, with his children nestled safely in their cradles, he found something he had never sought but now realized he needed: a future not built on science alone, but on love.

Y/N smiled at the sight of him, knowing all too well that Viktor would deny any talk of his exhaustion, but that he would never deny their children a moment of his attention.

“You are so patient with them,” she mused, shifting to sit beside him, her head resting against his shoulder. “I think they adore you more than me.”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh. “That is impossible.” He kissed the top of her head before gazing back down at Mira and Alric. “But if true… then I can hardly blame them. I am quite fond of them myself.”

Alric let out a small noise, shifting slightly before settling back into sleep. Mira followed suit, her tiny hand grasping at Viktor’s sleeve as if she knew exactly where she wanted to be. Viktor ran a gentle hand over the soft wisps of their hair, his expression softening even further.

“I do wonder what they will grow to be,” he murmured, his mind always lost in the possibilities. “What they will dream of. What they will create.”

Y/N sighed, content. “Whatever they choose, they’ll have us to guide them.”

Viktor nodded, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his daughter. A silent vow, unspoken but deeply felt. No matter what came their way, no matter how difficult the road ahead, he would be there. For Y/N, for Mira, for Alric.

Because love—this love—was the greatest thing he had ever created.

=

As the night deepened, the city of Piltover carried on outside, the hum of its mechanized heart never ceasing. But here, in the quiet of their home, time felt still. Viktor sat there for hours, his mind drifting between the future and the present, between science and family. Every so often, one of the twins would stir, a tiny yawn escaping them, and Viktor would press a kiss to their forehead, murmuring soft reassurances in his native tongue.

Bramble let out a soft purring sound as he stretched and curled up closer to the base of the cradles, his warm, fluffy presence adding another layer of comfort to their little family.

Viktor thought of the future, of the knowledge he could pass on, of the things he and Y/N would teach their children. Of the wonders Mira and Alric would one day discover, the brilliance they might inherit. Would they take after their father’s ceaseless curiosity, their mother’s boundless warmth? Would they build, explore, create?

=

As the years passed, Viktor imagined them toddling after him in his workshop, their small hands eager to tinker with the devices and tools scattered across his desk. He pictured Mira’s determined frown as she studied a schematic with the same intensity he did, Alric’s laughter echoing through their home as he chased after Bramble in the morning light.

He imagined them growing older, standing by his side, listening to his stories of his past—his triumphs, his failures, the lessons he had learned along the way. He thought of their hands, once so small in his, growing stronger, capable of shaping the future as they saw fit.

No matter what, Viktor vowed, he would be there to witness it all. To celebrate their victories, to comfort them in their struggles, to remind them that no matter how much the world changed, they would always have a place in it—together.

JAYVIK

The workshop smelled of warm metal and ink, the scent a permanent part of their lives. The hum of Hextech crystals and the soft scratching of Viktor’s pen against blueprints blended with the laughter of their children—chaotic, beautiful, and ever-present.

Lucian, their eight-year-old, sat cross-legged on Viktor’s worktable, a small contraption in his hands. His dark brown curls bounced as he turned the device over, careful, yet brimming with excitement.

“Tatínek, do you think if I adjust the pressure valve here, it’ll make it faster?” Lucian asked, tilting his head toward Viktor. (Papa)

Viktor, cane resting against the table, gave a small, proud smile. “That depends on what you want it to do. More pressure might increase speed, but stability is just as important, můj malý vynálezce.” He tapped the blueprints beside him, adjusting his glasses. (My Little Inventor)

Across the room, Jayce sat on the floor, holding a giggling Liana upside down while Felix clambered onto his back. “Alright, alright, I surrender!” he laughed, his broad frame barely wobbling under their combined weight.

Liana shrieked in delight, her tiny fists grasping at Jayce’s arms. “No surrender, Daddy!”

Felix, the quieter of the two, pressed his cheek against Jayce’s shoulder and sighed happily. “We win,” he murmured, victorious.

Jayce grinned and reached up to ruffle Felix’s golden hair. “You’re getting heavy, kiddo.”

Y/N watched from the doorway, arms crossed, amused at the contrast between their two partners. Lucian, the child she and Jayce shared, was quiet, thoughtful, and deliberate in all things—so much like Viktor that it was almost eerie. Meanwhile, Nova and Felix, their wild, boundless children with Viktor, were a force of nature, as if chaos had been bottled up and released into two tiny bodies.

=

Viktor’s parenting was meticulous, full of gentle instruction and quiet pride. He wasn’t one for running around, but he made up for it with bedtime stories, soft reassurances, and a keen awareness of their children’s needs. He saw them, truly saw them, whether it was Lucian’s fascination with mechanics, Felix’s curiosity or Liana’s boundless energy. He had a way of making each of them feel special,

Jayce, on the other hand, was all action. He built pillow forts that took up entire rooms, carried the twins on his shoulders like a living jungle gym, and never turned down a game of tag—even when it meant knocking over a carefully placed stack of Viktor’s notes. He encouraged their energy, their boldness, and met their every demand for attention with laughter and open arms. And though Lucian wasn’t as prone to chaotic bursts of energy like his younger siblings, Jayce made sure to include him too—whether it was by playfully challenging him to engineering contests or scooping him up into a bear hug when he was too deep in thought. Jayce never let Lucian retreat too far into his own head, keeping their son grounded with warmth and enthusiasm, knowing how important it was to balance intellect with play.

“I hope you know you’re teaching them to be absolute terrors,” Viktor mused, watching Jayce let Liana climb onto his head.

Jayce chuckled, catching her before she could tumble. “Terrors? No way. They’re gonna be strong, brave, and maybe a little reckless.” He gave Y/N a wink. “Just like their parents.”

Lucian adjusted the tiny gears in his hands, looking up. “Tatínek's not reckless.”

Jayce smirked. “Not now, but back in the day? Let’s just say he—”

“Jayce,” Viktor warned, a light flush dusting his cheeks.

Y/N laughed, stepping forward to press a kiss to Viktor’s temple. “I think we all know you’re the mastermind behind half of Jayce’s past chaos.”

Viktor huffed, but the way his hand brushed against Y/N’s waist betrayed his fondness.

Liana and Felix, meanwhile, had abandoned Jayce and were now engaged in their favourite activity: climbing whatever structure was closest. At the moment, it was Viktor’s bookshelf.

“Felix, Liana—off,” Viktor said firmly, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Aw, but tatínek, we were gonna touch the top!” Liana whined, pouting. Felix nodded, as if that argument was fool proof.

Y/N sighed and shook her head. “If you two want to climb something, go outside with Jayce. The bookshelf isn’t a jungle gym.”

The twins groaned but obeyed, darting out of the workshop, pulling Jayce along with them. “Come on, Daddy, let’s race!” Liana shouted, and Jayce barely had time to react before she and Felix took off.

Viktor exhaled, rubbing his temple. “How do they have so much energy?”

Lucian smirked. “They don’t sit still long enough to lose any.”

Y/N chuckled and leaned against Viktor. “At least they make life interesting.”

Viktor huffed but didn’t disagree.

Their home was loud. It was messy. It was filled with Hextech parts, scattered toys, and the occasional faint scent of something burning (thanks to one of Lucian’s early experiments). But it was theirs. And as Viktor leaned into Y/N’s touch, and Jayce was pulled into another game outside, one thing was certain—

Their little family was perfect.

VANDER

The bustling sounds of The Last Drop hummed softly in the background, a familiar lullaby of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. Vander leaned against the counter, his broad arms crossed as he watched Y/N cradling their daughter, Reina, in her arms. The toddler had just begun speaking in full sentences, and tonight, she was babbling excitedly about the stories Vi had told her before bed.

"Papa, Vi says she punched a guy bigger than you!" Reina's big eyes shone with wonder as she looked up at her father.

Vander let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "That so?" He glanced over at Vi, who stood near Powder and Mylo, grinning with pride.

"You should've seen it, Vander! He was talking trash, and I—" Vi mimicked a punch, making Mylo wince and Claggor smirk.

Y/N sighed, shifting Reina higher on her hip. "And you taught her this?" she asked, her voice laced with mock disapproval as she raised a brow at Vander.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, maybe she picked up a thing or two from watchin'." He crouched down to Reina's level, ruffling her thick curls. "But don’t you go punchin’ people, alright? That’s Vi’s job."

Reina giggled, resting her tiny hands on his scruffy beard. "I wanna be strong like Vi and Papa!"

Vander let out a hearty laugh, pulling her into his arms. "You're already strong, sweetheart. Strongest little one I know."

Powder, who had been quiet up until now, tugged at Y/N’s sleeve. "Mama, can I braid Reina’s hair before bed? I learned a new one!"

Y/N smiled warmly, brushing a strand of Powder’s blue hair back. "Of course, darling. She’d love that."

"Yay!" Powder gently took Reina's tiny hand, leading her toward the worn-out couch where she often played with her dolls.

Vi stretched, cracking her knuckles with a grin before flopping down next to them. "You should let me teach Reina some moves when she’s older, Pops. She’s got potential."

"Oh no, no, no," Y/N interjected, shaking her head. "One brawler in the family is enough."

Vander smirked, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. "Gotta agree with your ma, Vi. Though, I’ll admit, Reina’s got the spirit."

Vi huffed but smiled. "Fine, but at least let me teach her how to dodge. That way, she won’t get hit."

Claggor chuckled. "I dunno, Vi. She might end up better than you."

Vi gasped dramatically. "Betrayal!" She flopped back on the couch as the others laughed.

=

Meanwhile, Powder was diligently braiding Reina’s dark curls, her tongue poking out in concentration. "Almost done! You’re gonna look so pretty, Reina!"

The little girl beamed. "Like a princess?"

"Like a warrior princess!" Powder corrected, tying off the braid with a small ribbon she’d scavenged earlier that week.

Vander watched them, his expression softening. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he tried. He tried for the family he had built from scraps of a broken world. Y/N, the love of his life, had given him another reason to keep fighting. Their daughter was the very proof that good could still be found in the Undercity.

He felt Y/N’s hand slip into his, and he squeezed it gently. "Y’know," he murmured, watching their kids chatter amongst themselves, "I never thought I'd get somethin’ like this. Not in a place like Zaun."

Y/N leaned against his arm, her warmth grounding him. "You built this, Vander. Our family. You kept them safe."

He exhaled deeply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll keep ‘em safe always. No matter what."

As the dim lanterns flickered in the quiet of their home, Vander knew—he'd fight for them till his last breath.

=

Later that night, after the kids had been tucked into their makeshift beds, Vander and Y/N sat on the small worn-out couch in the back of The Last Drop. Reina was curled up on Vander’s lap, breathing softly in her sleep, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Y/N traced absent patterns on Vander’s forearm, their quiet moment of peace feeling almost sacred.

"Think she’ll be a troublemaker when she’s older?" Y/N teased, glancing up at him.

Vander huffed a tired laugh. "With this lot? No doubt about it."

Y/N chuckled, resting her head against his shoulder. "She’s lucky to have you. All of them are."

He sighed, watching the glow of the lanterns flicker against the old wooden walls. "I’m the lucky one, love. They gave me a reason to be better. To do better."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten in the warmth of their shared love and the steady rhythm of Reina’s breathing.

For a moment, Vander allowed himself to believe that they’d always have this—that their family would always be whole, safe in the little world they’d built together.

SILCO

Zaun belonged to the restless, to the desperate, to the ones who carved their names into the undercity with blood and ambition. It had no room for weakness, no tolerance for sentiment. The strong survived, and the cunning thrived.

And among them stood Silco—The Eye of Zaun, the man whose voice could break kings and whose hand could build empires. Ruthless, calculating, unshaken.

But behind the steel doors of his sanctuary, he was something else entirely.

He was a father.

Their son, Lior, was still small, still soft in the way all children were, but Silco could already see the sharpness forming behind his storm-gray eyes. There was a quiet weight in them, a knowing look that reminded him of himself. Too perceptive for a child. Too thoughtful.

Perhaps that was why Silco found himself reaching for him more than he should.

=

In public, Silco played his part well. He walked with Lior at his side, his long fingers resting lightly on the boy’s shoulder or curling around his smaller hand with just enough pressure to anchor him. He did not dote, nor did he allow himself the indulgence of affection.

He never called his name too sweetly. Never offered a soft word in the presence of others. Never let the boy out of arm’s reach, but never held on too tight. To the world, Lior was merely a shadow trailing behind him, his existence acknowledged but never openly protected.

Silco knew what weakness in the open could invite. The vultures of Zaun, and worse—Piltover’s wolves.

Lior never complained about the distance, never questioned the way his father’s grip remained firm but never too warm. But sometimes, when the crowd pressed too close, when unfamiliar eyes lingered too long, he would squeeze Silco’s fingers just slightly.

A silent question. A reassurance.

Silco would barely glance down, his expression never shifting, but his thumb would brush over the boy’s knuckles in a rare, fleeting motion.

"I’m here."

It was all Lior ever needed. But behind closed doors? Behind closed doors, he could not put the boy down.

=

The moment the weight of the world was locked outside, Silco would find his son and lift him without hesitation, pressing him against his chest as if he needed to reassure himself that he was real. That he was safe.

Lior never protested. He simply curled into his father’s embrace, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of Silco’s coat. He knew better than to expect affection outside these walls, but here—here, his father was different.

There was no cold detachment, no distant authority. Only quiet whispers and steady hands, the soft rustling of Silco’s coat as he shifted, adjusting his grip to keep Lior close. The boy’s head would rest against his father’s chest, his breathing slowing to match the rhythmic rise and fall beneath his ear.

Y/N would often walk in to find them like that. Silco seated in his chair, legs crossed, one arm bracing Lior against his chest while his free hand absentmindedly stroked the boy’s dark hair. It was an unconscious motion, a habit formed from a love too dangerous to be shown to the outside world.

"You'll spoil him," Y/N would tease, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, watching the way Lior all but melted into his father’s hold—a sight so rare, so fragile, that she never truly tired of it.

Silco never looked up. The only sign that he’d heard her was the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Then let him be spoiled," he would murmur, his fingers still threading through Lior’s hair, slow and deliberate. "Let him know his father’s arms will always be strong enough to hold him."

And hold him, he did.

=

On nights when the city was restless, and Y/N woke to the rustle of fabric, she would find Silco sitting at the edge of their bed, Lior cradled in his arms. The boy would be fast asleep, his face buried against Silco’s chest, completely unaware of the world beyond the warmth that surrounded him.

Silco would sit there for hours, unmoving, as though the slightest shift might cause the moment to shatter.

Y/N knew better than to say anything in those moments. She could see it in Silco’s gaze—the unspoken fear that clawed at the back of his mind. The same fear he never voiced but that always lingered.

He had built an empire, made himself untouchable, but power was fragile. A child was fragile.

And he would not lose his son. Not to the city. Not to fate. Not to anyone.

=

Morning always brought a shift in the air.

By daylight, Silco was back to his usual self—composed, detached but never unkind. Lior was expected to be observant, to listen more than he spoke, to learn the undercity not just with his eyes but with his instincts.

The world would not wait for him to grow.

Silco never coddled him in the streets. He did not scoop him up when he fell, did not shield him from the grime of Zaun, did not soften the lessons that needed to be learned. When Lior tripped, he was expected to stand. When he made a mistake, he was made to understand it. Silco never raised his voice, never scolded without purpose. He simply watched—waiting, assessing. And when Lior found his footing, dusted himself off and raised his chin without complaint, his father would nod in quiet approval.

But he was never alone.

Silco’s hand was always there—a firm, steady weight on his shoulder. Not forceful, not indulgent, but present. A silent promise.

=

Lior didn’t understand at first. As a child, he had only known that the streets were different from home. That in public, his father’s voice was sharp and cutting, his movements purposeful and unyielding. He was not a man who lifted him without hesitation, not the same father whose fingers carded through his hair when the city was locked away behind steel doors.

But as he grew, he began to see.

He began to notice the way people looked at him when they realized whose child he was—the weight of their gazes, the calculation in their eyes. He began to hear the way voices shifted when his father entered a room, the way some grew sharp with resentment, others lowered in quiet fear.

He began to understand why.

One day, when he was older, he would remember the times he had reached for his father’s hand in the crowded streets of Zaun. How Silco had let him, but only briefly—only until the moment passed, until the air grew still again. Until it was safe.

“There are people who would see you as a weakness,” he finally said, his voice even. “I cannot allow that.”

One day, he would understand that love, when tied to power, had to be protected.

The world of men like Silco was cruel, unyielding. It did not permit softness, but that did not mean Lior would grow unloved.

No—he would know love in the way only his father could give it. In the security of his grip. In the strength of his arms behind closed doors. In the quiet, whispered reassurances at night.

And one day, Lior would understand why his father had to be both things at once.

SEVIKA

The dim glow of the Last Drop’s neon sign flickered against the rain-slicked streets of Zaun, painting the pavement in a dull red haze as you finally stepped inside your apartment. The weight of the day pressed down on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, but the familiar scent of oil, metal, and smoke reminded you that you were home.

Sevika’s presence was unmistakable.

She was seated at the small, battered table in the corner, her usual spot, methodically disassembling and cleaning her mechanical arm with the precision of a well-practiced soldier. The candlelight flickered against her sharp features, casting shadows across the deep scars that marred her skin. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, focused on her task.

A small, warm weight squirmed in your arms.

Your son, Cassian, let out a quiet giggle, his tiny hands clutching at the worn fabric of your coat.

“Mama home,” he murmured sleepily, voice thick with drowsiness as he tucked himself further into your embrace.

Your heart swelled as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “I’m home.”

Sevika’s eyes flickered toward you both.

For a brief moment, something in her expression shifted—so subtle that if you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it. A flicker of something softer, something uncertain, before her face hardened once more. Without a word, she turned back to her arm, running the rag over the metal plating, the only sign of her tension being the slight clench of her jaw.

She never quite knew how to react when Cassian called you that.

You had been together for months now—long enough for her to get used to your presence, your touch, the warmth you offered despite the cold, unrelenting reality of Zaun. But when it came to your son?

Sevika kept her distance.

Not out of hatred. Not out of disinterest. But something else. Something quieter. Something like fear.

=

That night, when you were half-asleep, you felt the bed shift.

The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and a heavy sigh filled the room—one of those deep, wearied exhales she let out only when she thought no one was paying attention.

Through the dim candlelight, you cracked open an eye and found Sevika sitting on the edge of the bed, her broad shoulders hunched forward, her gaze locked onto the small, sleeping form across the room. Her usual hardened mask was gone.

For once, she wasn’t scowling, wasn’t exuding her usual air of indifference. Instead, she just stared at him—watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his little chest, the way his tiny fingers curled around the edge of his blanket.

Something unreadable flickered across her face. Something vulnerable.

Reaching out, you brushed your fingers lightly against her back. “You can hold him, you know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She tensed under your touch, her shoulders locking up for a brief second before she shook her head.

“I don’t wanna break ‘im.”

A quiet chuckle slipped past your lips. “You’re not going to break him, Sev.”

She scoffed, but it wasn’t her usual rough dismissal—it was hollow, uneasy. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, voice low. “I don’t do… kids. I don’t know how to be—”

She cut herself off with another sigh, running a tired hand down her face. How to be what?

Gentle? Safe? A mother?

You didn’t push her. Not yet. Instead, you curled up closer to her, resting your head against the warm, solid strength of her back.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Sev. He already has me. But he could have you, too.”

She didn’t respond. Just sat there, eyes still locked onto Cassian’s small, sleeping form.

=

The change wasn’t immediate.

Sevika was still Sevika—sharp, rough-edged, and unapproachable in the way only someone who had spent years hardening herself to the world could be. She didn’t know how to be soft, didn’t know how to offer warmth the way you did.

But little by little, the cracks started to show. She stopped avoiding Cassian so much.

At first, it was subtle. When he toddled around the apartment, chattering excitedly to himself about whatever wild, nonsensical things a child’s mind could conjure, she didn’t immediately leave the room anymore.

She lingered.

She would stay seated at the table, pretending to be focused on cleaning her blade, or adjusting the mechanics of her arm, but her eyes would flick toward him every so often, sharp and observant. It wasn’t disinterest—it was caution.

She was watching. Learning.

Trying to understand this tiny, chaotic creature that had somehow become a permanent part of her life.

Then came the moments where her presence became more than just a passive one.

=

When you sat on the floor with Cassian, rolling a little wooden ball back and forth, Sevika would pretend not to pay attention—arms crossed, expression unreadable. But every time the ball tumbled just out of Cassian’s reach, and he scrambled to grab it, she would watch closely.

And then, if he caught it—if his tiny fingers finally wrapped around it without fumbling—you’d hear it.

A low, almost imperceptible, gruff: "Good job, kid."

It was barely anything, really. Just two words, muttered as if she wasn’t sure why she was saying them.

But to Cassian, it was everything.

The first time she said it, he lit up, beaming so brightly it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. He turned to her immediately, as if hoping to catch her gaze, to confirm that yes, she was talking to him.

Sevika, realizing her mistake, grunted and looked away, pretending to be more interested in the scratches on her gauntlet. But you caught the way her lips twitched—just a little.

She was cracking. And Cassian noticed it too. Because after that day, he started looking for her.

=

"Sevika, look! Sevika, watch me!"

Every time he figured out how to stack his blocks higher, every time he coloured some messy, indecipherable drawing, he would turn to her. His little hands clutching whatever prize he had just created, his wide, bright eyes searching for her approval.

And for the first few weeks, she didn’t know how to handle it.

At first, she would only grunt, offering vague hums of acknowledgment, trying not to encourage the idea that she was interested. But then came the day when you caught her off-guard.

You had stepped into the other room for barely a second, just long enough to grab a rag to wipe down the counter, and when you returned, you found them.

Cassian was standing by her chair, holding up a crude little drawing in his tiny hands. Sevika, who had spent weeks acting like she wanted nothing to do with him—was holding it. Holding it with her flesh hand, turning it slightly as if actually studying it.

It was a mess of smudged crayon and clumsy shapes, mostly scribbles that barely resembled anything at all, but Cassian was waiting. Waiting for her reaction.

Sevika exhaled heavily through her nose. Paused. Then—softer than you had ever heard her speak before—she muttered:

“Not bad, kid.”

And that was the moment it all changed.

Because Cassian grinned—this wide, toothy, purely delighted grin—and without hesitation, he wrapped his little arms around her leg, hugging her.

Sevika tensed immediately, her entire body going rigid, as if the sudden contact had physically struck her.

For a split second, you thought she would push him away. Not out of cruelty, but out of pure panic, the same way a soldier reacts on instinct when something unexpected happens.

But then— She didn’t. She didn’t push him away. She let him stay.

And for a second—just one second—her flesh hand twitched, hovering awkwardly before finally, carefully, settling against his small back.

It wasn’t much. Just a single, brief pat. But it was enough. More than enough.

And as Cassian pulled away, his tiny voice filled with pride, he beamed up at her and said something that made Sevika’s entire world tilt.

“I like you, Sevika.”

You swore you heard her stop breathing. The words hung in the air for a long, aching moment. And then, after what felt like forever, she swallowed hard and muttered—rough, hesitant, but genuine:

“…Yeah, kid. I know.”

She wouldn’t say it back. Not yet. But the walls were cracking. And she didn’t try to rebuild them.

=

It happened one quiet evening, Cassian had been toddling across the room, his small hands clutching a worn wooden toy, the paint chipped and faded from years of use. He had claimed it as his favorite weeks ago, always keeping it close, dragging it across the floor as he moved with that unsteady, fearless energy that only children possessed. His tiny feet pattered against the old floorboards, his laughter filling the apartment, an innocent sound in a city that had very little innocence left to give.

And then—he tripped.

It happened so fast—too fast.

One small misstep. A tiny foot catching on a loose floorboard. The sharp, startled gasp that left his lips just before his little body pitched forward, too quickly, too suddenly.

Your chest tightened. Instinct kicked in, panic seizing every muscle in your body as you moved, heart lurching toward your throat—

But you didn’t get the chance. Because before you could even react— Sevika was already there.

She moved like a shadow cutting through smoke, reacting before thought, before hesitation could creep in, before the fear of touching him could take hold.

Her flesh hand caught him mid-fall, strong, steady, effortless, while her mechanical arm hovered awkwardly at her side, twitching slightly as if wanting to help but too afraid to touch.

And then—she froze.

Her entire body locked up, muscles tense, shoulders rigid as if she had just caught a live grenade instead of a child. Her breathing grew uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts as she held him—not pulling him closer, not letting him go, just holding him.

She was stiff, uncertain, like she had just realized what she had done. Like she didn’t know what came next.

Cassian sniffled, his big, teary eyes blinking up at her, tiny fingers grasping at the fabric of her vest in a quiet plea for comfort. For a brief moment, you expected him to cry—to reach for you, call for you, the way he always did when he needed reassurance.

But instead— He giggled.

Soft. Light. Completely unbothered.

As if being caught by Sevika, of all people, was the most normal thing in the world. Then, before she could even begin to process it— His little arms wrapped around her neck.

His body curled into her chest like he had done it a thousand times before, the kind of trust that was so pure, so absolute, that it felt impossibly heavy in a way Sevika had never known.

And then— One small, earth-shattering sentence.

"You're really warm, Mom."

Sevika went completely still.

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as if the words had physically struck her. Her grip on him faltered for just a second—not enough to drop him, but enough for you to see it. That moment of absolute disbelief.

The way her jaw clenched, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, the way her entire world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t do anything except stand there, frozen, as the weight of those words settled over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in something too big to contain. You could see it breaking her down.

The way her usual sharp, hardened exterior crumbled at the edges, unravelling into something raw and aching.

You had seen Sevika take hits that would have shattered another person. You had seen her face death without flinching, without hesitation, without fear.

But now?

Now she looked like a woman who had just been laid bare—a woman who had spent years building walls around herself, only for a single sleepy, innocent voice to tear them all down in seconds.

Her flesh hand, the one still clutching Cassian, slowly relaxed. Her metal fingers, which had always hesitated, always hovered just out of reach, finally—carefully, cautiously—brushed against his small back.

A light, almost hesitant touch. Like she was testing whether she was allowed to hold him. And then—so softly, so quietly, you almost missed it—

She exhaled.

The tension in her body eased—not completely, but enough. Her flesh hand shifted slightly, adjusting, settling, cradling him with more certainty than before.

Her grip, once stiff and unsure, became something else. Something solid. Something secure. She still looked overwhelmed, still looked like she wasn’t sure what to do with the small child pressed against her, but—

She didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away. And her eyes—her sharp, battle-worn, haunted eyes—shimmered.

She wouldn’t cry.

Not in front of you. Not in front of him. But you knew. You took a quiet step forward, closing the space between you, placing a gentle hand over hers. Sevika startled slightly, like she had forgotten you were even there. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, and for the first time in a long, long while—

She looked afraid. Not of Cassian. Not of breaking him. But of losing him. Of losing the one person in this world who had just called her ‘Mom.’ Her lips parted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, raw and unsteady.

“…Guess I’m a mom now.” You smiled, your fingers squeezing hers in silent reassurance.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “You are.”

And Sevika— who had spent her life closing herself off, keeping people at a distance, choosing steel and strength over softness— Held Cassian a little closer.Not enough for anyone else to notice. But you noticed. And for the first time in a long, long while—

Sevika didn’t look so afraid.