#sleep deprived and running on spite

[saltydoesstuff]

First Encounters (Feral! Raph)

Still working on what exactly to call this au (?) so I'm going to just refer to them as the feral boys for now- Anyway here is a little drabble of how I imagine meeting Raph would go down -------------------------- - Raph is the wariest of humans out of the brothers, so finding him on his own is a difficult feat. Despite his size, he is the most cautious about clearing up any tracks that may lead them to him and his brothers. Any close encounters that no doubt may happen despite him being careful, his appearance alone is enough to send those humans running with their imaginary tails tucked behind their legs. Rarely has he had to actually use any force or violence, but he won't hesitate to if the situation calls for it. He is the most durable after all, he can take the hits. - So, imagine his displeasure when a little human had stumbled a little too close to their home than he would have liked. Humans don't usually go this far into the woods, and especially not by themselves like you had. Were you perhaps lost? Separated from a group and trying to find them? He's seen the case before with many creatures, and he had helped each one- or.. tried. An eight foot mutant alligator snapping turtle does not give the friendliest first impressions towards the already frightened and confused fawns he's found wobbling about from time to time. But that's okay! It only takes a little bit of waiting and shadowing the creature for it to stop running from him. Then he can help them find their way back to their family. - But humans were tough. They are loud and attack often without hesitation, they blabber and carry things that spit fire and hurt. He knew that because one grazed his tail when Donnie managed to snag one of the sticks and set it off, leaving a decently sized gash like scar carved into his tail- the usual hardened scales and spikes replaced instead with softer and tender flesh as a scar. Donnie immediately threw the stick into the river after that incident and hasn't made any moves to steal anything that looked to be similar as the fire stick. Humans were dangerous. They made dangerous things. - With that being said, this human had to go. And Raph had no issues being the one to do it. He was the only one that should. Sneaking up on the human was easy enough, this one was not very attentive it seemed. It carried some sort of.. odd looking leaf pile in it's hands, bound by something that looked like bark from a distance. No, bark wasn't flexible like that. It was like the colorful leaf piles that Leo brought home from time to time that displayed pictures. Whatever it was, the human seemed more focused on it then it's surroundings. And just like it's attention to it's surroundings, it didn't seem to have a goal destination. Wandering in circles, not sure whether they should go left or right, pointing out certain plants and coloring in it's leaf pile with a thin yellow twig. After a bit of following the human from a distance, Raph started to think that the human would eventually wander it's own way out of the brother's land. But then it paused at the pond, where Leo and Donnie liked to swim and catch frogs. - Raph began to panic slightly, worried that the twins were there right now- that that was why the human suddenly stopped. But a quick scan of the waters showed that they weren't there, and if they were they were too deep for the human to possibly see them. He just hoped they'd stay down long enough for him to startle the human away from the area. With it's back turned towards him and once more furiously scribbling on their thick leaf pile, Raph took this opportunity to come closer. Slowly, he stepped out of the brush- intentionally stepping on a fallen branch for its loud snarling snap as it gave way to his weight. It seemed to do the trick, as the human flinched and whirled around to meet his glare. Now here came the part he dreaded the most..

[arrowmaker15]

(Tim and Duke sitting on the couch watching TV)

Tim: You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

Duke: What?

Tim: If you dry off with a clean towel after you get out of the shower, how is the towel dirty?

Duke: Are you alright?

Tim: If you wait for the waiter, does that make you the waiter?

Duke: Do you... Need help?

Tim: Is orange named orange because Oranges are orange, or are Oranges named orange because orange is orange?

Duke:

Duke: Alfred! Tim is severely sleep deprived again!

[dipplinduo]

war

just learned about evil boops and it's all I'm giving out now if u finna catch deez hands. try me bro. do u even lift

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

i am so concerned about those kids sleeping schedule, actors included, because they have to hunt at night but they have to research during the day and sometimes breakfast is at midnight and other times its 7am and what time do these kids get to sleep, also the actors would fall asleep in their respective characters rooms sometimes, which is adorable

[wispisstillverybored67]

Deep Breath Deep Breath

Don't even try What do you want from me? Better stop pushing... Cause I won't tolerate it!

There's no returning, no matter how much you want it It burns me to the core on my body, no one knew it Now it's not the right time for anything, so stop loading!

STAY AWAY FROM ME!

Already lost my keys to the door once shut Only had one wish Now it's never gonna come true... Trapped in time, forever in remorse How could I ever be... In this when nothing else matters to me?!

"Hey man... Do you think Illuso's acting a little weird?" I suddenly asked. 

"Like, you see him, right? His eyes were bigger than the Sinistar! Last night, with that stolen cabinet! Big, bloodshot, wide-eyed and crazed eyes. And when I asked him if something was wrong with 'em, he got all weird that I was looking at him. Uh..." I don't know what's up with him, the guys do.

"And jittery, yeah? Wait, he's always like that."

"More then usual, man-"

"He'll probably be back to parading his own ego around by tomorrow, I wouldn't worry about 'em like that, Herr Blücher." 

"C'mon, Gelato... He reeks of despair~ You notice he's getting snappier too. I'm sure the guys've already noticed... but he trusts you guys more then he trusts me. I'm just pointing it out to you 'cause you 9 should probably nip in in the-" Speak of the devil. Nero was behind us. 

"Oh, hi Nero!" I happily tried to greet him. The rest of the guys followed in, including the man of the hour himself. Wow, he looks even more like shit. What even happened to him?! He didn't even look up, just quietly followed the rest with his now typical wide-eyed stare to nothing, staring down to his legs and to the floor. 

"I'll be blunt," Nero sighed, then pointed to Illuso. "You obviously have a problem we're not aware of, so we're going to have to address that before you get any worse." 

He didn't even react, he's just fidgeting, looking like he's seen a ghost, or a particular doctor's murders, shrinking into himself. I've seen scared Illuso before, but this despair is the same as before, wait, no, it's a bit different in texture... as if he were angered and anxious at the same time. I was lounging on Pesci's lap this time, so I discreetly had Arles check on him. It's very soft here~

Arles Zorro, go to Illuso. "Yoo-hoo... Illuso? Hey hey hey." I tried calling him. This time, he listened. Drawing in a shaky breath, he looked to Nero, not making eye contact.

"What?" His voice was raspy, very raspy. Even more so then usual...

"A problem? Don't even think about it. You think I, Illuso, have problems?"

"Yes." We all said in unison. He flinched as we all said that. Yes, you're screwed~ He rarely even referred to himself like that if he wasn't flustered. 

Kira-chins and Ro-chan taught me how to scan others.  

"Don't play dumb, man. Just what the hell is up with you? You lost to Gelato again in that game or somethin'?" Formaggio was basically the only one saying what was on all our minds right now. Wait, no it's not. It's not that, but...

"If that were true..." "Those two would be yelling at each other, wrestling, while she records this shit, laughing like a psycho." I would've said my piece, but Ghiaccio cut me off. 

"That was one time!" 

We would've friendly-argued about this, but Prosciutto suddenly spoke up, clearly annoyed with his friend's dodginess. 

"Hold it right there. Where the hell do you think you're going?" He was always bad at hiding any bit of concern for us, even when he's snarling it all out. 

"I'm not about to waste my time in a meeting over stupid shit, if this is what you called me out for." 

"You're shaking." Melo' points out. Like he was caught in a blizzard. 

"Besides... You can't be shaken up about something from yesterday, I beat you on Saturday!" Gelato, do NOT start with that again. Although, he's got a point... Tell me this, how bad are you at Pokemon to lose at Celadon at the Gym Castle? Gelato practically beat the whole thing in a day! 

"No one asked you, you fucking midget!"

"Call me that again and I'll make a lady out of you!" He was now flashing his knife, not even bothering to get up from his husband's lap. 

"Both of you, shut up!" Nero and I both complain to those two. 

"Easy, love." Sorbet, would you kindly deal with your man???

"This was about what happened on Sunday, is that it?! Y'know what? Fuck you, and fuck this." Illuso's reaching into his chest now. Hmm... Illuso is looking paler then ever now. Wait, chest...? The pocket mirror! The compact he keeps in his tits! 

"PAULLA!" On it, Pros! I practically dived off of Pesci's lap to swipe it from him, and to restrain him. 

"Urgh... GET OFF ME!" He groaned. Pesci helped restrain him, and even then, it was too late. I had it in my hands. Looks quite gothic, and expensive! 

"No! Let go of me!" He looked more nervous and hurt when he was restrained by our daikon over there then when I yanked his pocket mirror from 'em. But he just went back to irritation and rage. 

Melone clicked his tongue, about to head over to check on the captive ojou. "Don't do this to me, please!"  

Out of boredom, I checked to see what's inside. It's the usual reverse hideout... Hey, I think I see Man in the Mirror in there. He's moving really quickly across the room, in an odd veritable panic. He's never like this... He's always like Illuso's more boisterous other half, just as bigheaded and and flashy. Does he miss his host? Or... does Illuso miss his Stand? No, both halves of the same soul are in a mad panic, for whatever reason. Smooth Criminal seemed to be on the other side, but Zorro hadn't been off Illuso since she got on him. He's ignoring her no matter what she tries to do to get his attention. Smooth Criminal isn't even there to him. Hey...

______________________________________________________________

"Don't do this to me, please!" You practically begged the others, struggling to get back up.  Just your luck. Paulla doesn't even know your problem. But she could snuff it out in due time, and join the rest all the same. You wanted to cry, to sleep, but you couldn't. Not like this.

"🎵Already lost my keys to the door once shut Only had one wish Now it's never gonna come true~🎵" She sang as she took it from you, mocking you.

"You don't know what they want! You don't know what you're doing! Paulla, don't do this to me! Please!" She kept playing with the mirror she took from you and admired it in an almost mocking manner, again, as if she were saying to you "Don't make me, then". 

Melone trudges over to you, almost deliberate in his pace, and blast a flashlight in your eyes. "Ack!" You hissed in an almost vampire-like fashion. You tried to rub your eyes, but Pesci practically had your arms in a death grip. They know. She'll know. They all fucking know. 

"Exactly as I feared. You've been depriving yourself of sleep since last Sunday, if my suspicion is correct." He sighed. 

The others don't speak, though you're sure one cleared his throat. 

Formaggio breaks out laughing, obvious to anyone that he's faking. You're dreading his words, insisting that what you're doing is certainly not a big deal. 

"You still thinking about that? You're losing your shit over nothing...! It's... Wednesday, right?"

"You're a day late. Ooo...~ You're still at it? Oh, man. What even happened that time?" Paulla just had to ask. She couldn't even bother hiding her curiosity over some stupid shit the others did. 

"So on Sunday night-"

"Do NOT tell her about some fucking shit she doesn't need to know!" You tried to fight back. Nothing more than empty words in your current state, as she'd say.

"While we were discussing matters relating to extraneous sleeping arrangements-"

"Don't." 

"I realized that Illuso hadn't actually slept in the real world, so I said-"

"Prosciutto." 

"Can you let me fucking finish? ...He should at first get used to doing such before anyone thinks of sleeping with everyone, which as you could tell-"

"Is going so well." Shut the fuck up, Ghia. 

She pauses for a second, starting at Prosciutto, then at Ghiaccio, then to the others briefly, the back to you. Her eyes about as big as yours, peering into the ruins of your soul.

"So that's why you read as scared." She goes back to her old smiling self, infuriating you even more. But there isn't really much that you could do now. 

"You know what? I could use a coffee. Yeah, I'll go get a coffee-" You scurry for the kitchen, yelping as you ripped away from Pesci's hold. But once you were almost there, you were suddenly hit with a radiating headache. You wanted to cringe, to complain, to cry, but you couldn't. Never let them win...

Some of the others head over to you, either out of "concern" or curiosity. No, don't be stupid. You're being a stubborn ass right now. The only one concerned would be Pesci, but it's not just him. Defeated, you sulked back to your seat with the others in tow, not bearing to look at them. Immediately after, all you could hear was Paulla chatting with Gelato about video games or some other frivolous shit. 

So, now Paulla knows what your problem is. Do you know what this means? They're all going to look at you. They're all going to laugh at you. These were the people you entered a relationship with, Paulla excluded? These were the people you loved? They don't even respect you. They didn't respect you when they learned you're not comfortable sleeping outside the mirror world, what did they expect? Please, God, you pleaded to yourself, to anyone that may hear, Don't do this to me. I can't go back...! I won't go back! You would never let yourself cry in front of them, no matter how awfully you wanted to. You wouldn't bear to let anyone see you be vulnerable, they get that. So why can't they let you be alone and vulnerable like always? When they were just going to earn your trust to hurt you even worse then they could now? You weren't crying, of course, actually, you didn't even know what was going on in the world, but inside, the tears were flooding out, curling up into yourself, crying out for someone, anyone to help you, but you knew you couldn't trust anyone anymore, not like this. The one who you could trust is being kept from you by the men you love, and helped by the one friend that would try and help you if she could. But you're not kidding anyone. You're unable to leave this hellish situation, because you thought you could trust people. Don't do this to me. you continue to plea. It was all you could do, really. You hated it, but what could you do? Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me.  Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to me.

"Illuso?" You could barely hear Risotto Nero over your own thoughts. You sank further into your mind, frozen in place. Either of fear, or of sorrow... or of fury. One thing you know for a fact, you're not shedding a single tear. Fear made you its bitch, as you sat there, your throat tying itself into knots, your eyes long since dried up, your hands shoved between your legs, your whole body is trembling. You really had to get some caffeine soon. You can't let this end. You can't let them win. Everything was too loud, too quick, too horrifying to you. You couldn't wait for someone to help you. You have to do something about this. Because although you KNOW you're stubborn as a mule, you knew even you were reaching your limit. A limit you wanted no one to realize they've seen it way earlier than you. 

"Up, now." You had no choice but to do what he asked. Reluctantly, you pulled all your energy together to stand up and (relatively) face him, unable to force yourself to stop shaking. Shit, you forgot just how weak you felt. Besides your recent fixation upon caffeine, coffee/tea/energy drink/whatever, you're not sure if you ate much else during this time. Actually, you're sure you ate like a bird, uncharacteristically from your usual self. But nobody gives a shit about that no more. 

"You have to get some rest. I can understand if you have a fear of that for whatever reason, but this is for the best." You became afraid of him. Afraid of how he looks, or of what you're convinced he'll do? You were never really scared of him, per say, you knew he could secretly be a massive dork, ruining his menace, but now you were dreading his next move.

"Hah... You all seriously think that I, Illuso of the mirror, would need rest?! I'm not exhausted, I'm not paranoid, and I'm not-Gah..." You're not even convincing yourself at this rate, huh? Your head's killing you... So, you think, can we hurry the hell up so I can make myself some coffee?!

"'re you scared?" Paulla asks simply. She smiled ever so often, and just like now, she looks and sounds dead. 

I'm scared. You wanted to give up and say that. Just say it, and it'll be the end of it. No matter how much it hurts. I'm scared. 

"I'm..." No! If they win, they'll kill you! And if they won't, who will? 

"I'm perfectly fine..." You stared at her uncomfortably. She didn't seem to be embarrassed. She never seemed to get embarrassed. How nice was it. 

"Would you... Would you would you would you..." You stumbled over to her, looking more like a zombie then a human, gazing deep into those creepy blue eyes... 

Reaching for her eyes, you attempted to pry her eyelids open. Any reflected surface will do... Everyone seems to be calling out to you, but you couldn't hear shit. 

"Would I what?" She sounded genuine, but it was all a lie to you. There's no such a thing as genuine words. Risotto and you think Ghiaccio pry your hands from her, and distance the two of you. You began to laugh after this, no longer caring about appearances for just this moment, not caring whether or not you were actually crying as you laughed. This whole thing seemed funny in hindsight, actually. 

"Illuso, would I what?" Would you kindly let me pass?! The words fail to come out. As you could guess. She puts a hand on your heart for the beats. You struggle hiding yourself flinching from this. She specifically was more then capable of kicking your ass into retiring, and she's 3 whole years younger than you, not to mention the newest member here. You're the member who's been here the longest despite everything. Sighing, she goes back to her original spot.

"You spend all your time conducting a so-called bulletproof image. But anyone can read you like a book, Illuso."

"Completely uneeded-"

"No, Risotto, let her speak. This sounds intriguing. 

"Thank you, Sorbet... You talk big game, but you're really paranoid about sleeping in the real world, because you're afraid of being attacked in your sleep. You're afraid of causing yourself unavoidable situations like this, and because of your issues, you struggle to trust other people, whether it's establishing, or keeping this string of trust. You finally made friends in the team, everyone... else in this case, but your paranoia and anxiety take the helm, leading you to refuse to show them any hint of being vulnerable out of fear this would affect their image of you. Fear that it would leak out, maybe? And because you'd rather die then say this out loud, I will. You know this more then anyone, too... You'd rather die then admit your fears to your friends, and because of that, they don't know why you're acting so weirdly over things like this. And you get frustrated because you know it sucks, but this is all you know. Fear. Ever since you entered Passione, you were scared to sleep in someone's eyeshot, and others you did or didn't trust had just proved it. It's fear, man. Fear." She said every new sentence slowly, observing you carefully. Not sure of what to do, you laugh to yourself again.

"I'm not good with emotions, but even I know this stuff... See, Nero-chan? I learned a bit of scanning people from you!" She added, changing tracks. Before anyone else could say something, you did.

"Okay, fine! You got me!" What were you saying... "Now, let me go!" You tried moving, everyone prepared to restrain you, but you fell over something, or someone. You tried getting up, but you were too weak and exhausted to move. 

Get up! GET UP! Don't do this to me...!

Risotto had then picked you up. 

"I won't say it again. Illuso, go to sleep, or I will strap you to it."

You grew defiant, though you weren't sure why. You couldn't even try and kick your legs around, your body was half asleep already.

"Don't do this to me... No... I... I... I. Will. NOT!" You forced yourself to say to him. You should have stayed with the intel team... 

You were finished. Shit. What a lout. Urgh...

______________________________________________________________

"I... I... I. WILL. NOT." No matter how much he says it, he was scared and exhausted. But he was playing a game with La Squadra di Esecuzione, and he wanted to win, even if he knew he couldn't. And would you look at that? He's sleeping! As soon as Nero touched his face, he was out of it. Tears finally strolling down his face, but he's out cold. Uh, mission success? Yeah! 

"Damn, Herr Blücher! You really gave him what for!" The first one to speak up again was Gelato, of course. 

"Heehee! Now that that's done with..." I took him from Nero-chan's hold, and brought him into his bedroom. Nero's, not Illuso's. I'm still not sure where his apartment is. But hey, since he's paranoid about being attacked in his sleep, he can sleep with Nero-chan to protect him! 

There we go, wrapped safely in bed. He was talking a bit in his sleep, saying something like "I'm... not weak..."

Now where was I? Oh yes. Sinistar!

[thetwofaced]

Heres a thought i just had

I think one of the problems with Anakin Skywalker is that he would've made a fantastic Mandelorian. Loyal to the very end, loves his chosen family above everything else, fantastic in battle etc. But that's also what makes him a terrible jedi.

He feels to fucking mutch and he has no idea how to handle his emotions. Anakin HAS good in him, he does love strongly , his strongest urge IS to protect . It's what made him fall and it is what brought him back to the light- TRYING so despretaly to protect his loved ones. So yeah. Leaving the order and becoming mandelorian might have actually been the smarter idea. Who knows he might have been able to force tjem to join the war efford and he so would've adopted all of the fucking clones and you can not tell me otherwise

[archivistofnerddom]

Delirious, sleep-deprived Kallus giving no shits and having no filter when he gives a brief is absolutely amazing. (He’s got shit to do and no time to actually do it.)

Kallus, running on 2 hours of sleep over 4 days and a single ration bar, was just cut off from getting another cup of caf by the medical team, and has given a dozen mission debriefs just like this one: We’re going to a place to steal and or destroy an imperial whatever-the-fuck and then haul ass, everybody ready? I don’t care, we’re leaving in two minutes.

[solxamber]

Fairytales and Fever Dreams - Vil Schoenheit x reader

When you decide to beg a fairy for help at your lowest point, you didn't expect that he'd decide to help you— at the cost of you making skincare for him.

You’re a mage at the academy, and life has officially declared war on you. Seriously. You’re about this close to having a full-on breakdown, the kind where they find you cackling in the library while surrounded by half-finished spell scrolls. One more minor inconvenience and you swear, you’re going to walk out onto the quad, set fire to the herbology building, and just stand there, staring blankly as it burns, sipping tea.

And why? Because you have four—count them—four finals on the same day. You don’t know who pissed in the universe’s cereal, but apparently, you’re the one paying for it.

"Okay, it’s fine," you mutter to yourself while chewing on the end of a quill. "You just need one little miracle. Just a small one. Like, I don’t know, a meteor wiping out the school. Or the headmaster spontaneously combusting. Something normal like that."

But then, you remember the rumor—the kind of rumor people whisper about when they’re this close to a mental collapse. Oh yes, the whispered tale of the fairies in the forest at the edge of town. Supposedly, if you bring an offering to the fairies, they’ll grant you a wish. Any wish. No strings attached.

You snort. It’s probably a load of magical nonsense. But considering your current state of sleep deprivation (and let’s be honest, mild hysteria), you’re willing to give it a shot. Desperate times and all that.

So, you scrape together the fanciest honey and milk your student budget can manage, which is probably a 5/10 by fairy standards but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. You pack it up in a basket like some weird, broke Little Red Riding Hood and trudge out to the forest.

The second you arrive, you’re not even trying to be subtle or respectful about it. No, you go straight to begging.

“Please, fairies, PLEASE!” You fall to your knees dramatically, waving the basket around like you’re presenting some holy relic. “I’m begging you. I need help. I haven’t slept in three days, I’m running on a liter of coffee and sheer spite, and if I fail one more class, I’m gonna have to turn myself into a toad and live under a rock. Just—just one wish, that’s all I’m asking!”

It’s bad. Like, so bad, you’re half-expecting some animal to come along and put you out of your misery out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

But then, there’s this rustling sound behind you, and when you look up, someone is standing there.

Correction: the prettiest person you’ve ever seen is standing there.

He’s tall, ethereal, and glowing—literally glowing, like he bathes in moonlight and stardust. His hair’s all silky and perfect, his skin looks like it’s never heard of acne, and the expression on his face tells you that he’s about two seconds away from calling security on you.

“Why, exactly,” he starts, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow that could cut glass, “are you kneeling in front of my forest and making this embarrassing display?”

You blink. Several things occur to you all at once:

1. Fairies are real. Huh. You thought you were just being insane.

2. Holy hell, he’s the most beautiful person (fairy?) you’ve ever seen.

3. Wait—his forest?

You quickly wipe the pathetic tears from your face and stumble to your feet. “A-are you… a fairy?”

“No, I’m a sentient dust bunny,” he deadpans. “Yes, of course, I’m a fairy. What are you even doing here?”

You hesitate. He’s giving off serious annoyed model on a runway vibes, and you’re not sure if he’s going to hex you out of his forest or just roll his eyes so hard that you get flung into another dimension.

“I, uh… finals,” you mumble, the tears starting to well up again. “Four finals. Same day. And I haven’t slept. I’m one failed exam away from permanently turning into a raccoon.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like your existence is just too much for him. “And you thought the best course of action was to come here and… grovel?”

You nod pathetically. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to just walk away, leaving you to your breakdown. But then his eyes narrow, and he points at your backpack. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” You look down and see the sunscreen bottle sticking out. “Oh, uh, that’s just something I made. I’ve been working on a skincare formula for sensitive skin.”

He steps closer, plucking it from your bag with the grace of someone used to handling priceless artifacts. “Skincare, you say?” He opens it, sniffing it cautiously before dabbing a bit onto the back of his hand. His eyes light up for a second, and you swear you hear an angelic choir in the background. “Hm. Not bad. A bit of a lavender undertone. Smooth texture. SPF 50?”

You nod. “Y-yeah.”

He looks back at you, and for the first time since he appeared, you see the barest hint of approval on his face. “It’s hard to find good skincare products these days, even among the fairies.”

You’re not sure how to respond. Is this your life now? Trading finals survival for skincare tips with a beautiful fairy?

“Well,” he says, still admiring the product, “I suppose I could grant you one wish. One. But only if you agree to make more of these skincare products for me.”

“Really?” You blink, not entirely believing your luck. “You’ll help me?”

He gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t do charity. But your skincare is adequate. And it’s not every day I meet someone this close to unraveling. It’s almost entertaining.”

You stare at him, mouth hanging open like a fish. “Deal. Deal. I’ll make you whatever skincare you want, just get me through these finals.”

He gives a nod, satisfied. “Then we have a deal.”

And just like that, you’ve somehow bartered your way out of academic doom with a fairy obsessed with sun protection. Let’s hope this arrangement works out better than the rest of your life so far.

Apparently, fairies like Vil don’t believe in things like cheating or, you know, the basic decency of using magic to fix your problems instantly. No, that would be too easy. And Vil—your very pretty, very exasperating new fairy overlord—has decided that the best way to help you pass your finals is to tutor you personally.

His price? One skincare product per lesson. And you, being surprisingly decent at making potions and cosmetics (alchemy major, what else), agreed because, at the time, you thought, How hard could it be?

Sweet summer child. You had no idea what you were getting into.

Because Vil? He’s not just strict. He’s villain origin story strict. His “tutoring” is so intense, so grueling, that you’re starting to wonder if he’s secretly training you for some kind of sadistic mage boot camp. At one point, you fail a poison-brewing technique, and he makes you redo it. Then again. And again. And again.

By the fifteenth attempt, you’re seriously contemplating bottling the poison and taking a little sip just to see what happens.

“Again,” Vil says, his voice icily calm, like he hasn’t just been watching you fail for an hour straight.

“I think I’m seeing stars,” you mutter, staring at the cauldron. “Should potions be giving me a near-death experience?”

“Focus,” he says, completely unfazed by your descent into madness. “If you can’t even get this basic potion right, I have serious concerns about your competency as a mage.”

You’re on the verge of a mental breakdown. One more failed attempt, and you’re going to throw yourself off the nearest cliff. Or better yet—turn yourself into a toad and hop into a pot of boiling water. Anything to escape the relentless perfectionism of Vil Schoenheit.

“Maybe I’ll just hex myself into a mushroom and live out the rest of my life in peace,” you grumble under your breath as you stir the potion yet again.

“ What was that?”

“Nothing!” You stir faster.

To your utter shock, the potion finally turns the right color. You’ve done it. You’ve successfully brewed the poison, and it only took, what, half your lifespan?

Vil inspects it with a critical eye, and after a long, painful pause, he says, “Acceptable.”

“Acceptable?!” You want to scream. This is the culmination of blood, sweat, tears, and the remnants of your sanity, and all he has to say is acceptable?

“Yes, acceptable,” Vil repeats, as if your suffering isn’t the most amusing thing he’s seen all week. “You’ll need to refine your technique, of course, but this will suffice for now.”

You groan, head in your hands. “I’m going to transmute myself into a sock and live in someone’s laundry basket.”

But here’s the kicker: despite all of Vil’s strictness, he’s actually the nicest person (fairy?) you’ve ever met. You don’t know if that’s pathetic or straight-up depressing, but still, it’s true. He’s picky, yes, but he cares.

Apparently, Vil has a radar for poor life choices because one day, after what feels like your 57th failed poison attempt, he takes one look at the sad pile of instant noodles and energy drinks cluttering your desk and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

"You've been eating this?" He gestures at the disaster that is your meal—a cup of ramen sitting next to an open bag of questionable chips. His expression could curdle milk. "Do you actually value your internal organs, or are you trying to audition for the role of a trash panda?"

You blink, staring at your gourmet spread, and then back at him. "Excuse me, I’ll have you know, this is an advanced student diet. We run on caffeine and MSG."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’re not running on anything. You’re sputtering at best."

You open your mouth to argue, but then glance down at the pathetic excuse for food in front of you. Okay. Fine. Maybe you are sputtering. But what are you supposed to do, handcraft five-course meals between four finals and Vil’s poison-torture sessions?

Vil sighs dramatically, as if your very existence is a personal affront. "I’m not letting you continue this… self-destruction. You’re going to eat real food even if it kills you." He waves a hand, and suddenly a basket of the most beautiful, vibrant fruits and vegetables you've ever seen appears out of thin air. It's like the entire organic section of a high-end grocery store, but, you know, without the soul-crushing price tags.

"Where did you even get all this?" you ask, poking suspiciously at a particularly shiny apple. "Did you steal it from some enchanted Whole Foods?"

Vil glares at you like you’ve personally insulted his lineage. "I foraged it from my forest, you uncultured turnip."

You blink. "I’m a potato now, and a turnip? What’s next? Are we making a root vegetable salad?"

Vil rolls his eyes. "No, we’re making something that doesn’t resemble a cry for help. Get to it."

You sigh, but with Vil watching like a disapproving food critic, you figure you might as well try to impress him. You rummage through the basket, grab a few ingredients, and somehow manage to throw together a halfway decent stir-fry. You may be broke, but you can cook. It’s one of the few things that hasn't gone completely sideways in your life.

You serve it up with a flourish, smirking a little. "Voilà, a proper meal. Happy now?"

Vil inspects the plate with his usual level of judgment. You half-expect him to whip out a magnifying glass and start searching for flaws. Finally, he takes a bite, chews thoughtfully, and then gives you a rare, grudging nod of approval.

"Surprisingly competent for someone who survives on garbage," he says, in what you can only assume is Vil’s version of high praise.

"Wow, a compliment. I feel blessed," you deadpan, but you’re grinning. It’s not every day you get validation from a fairy with standards so high he probably judges oxygen.

Vil continues eating, and you join him, secretly proud of the fact that you managed to cook something that didn’t send him into a rant about toxins and poor life choices. For a moment, the two of you sit in companionable silence, just… eating. It’s weirdly nice.

After you both finish, Vil leans back, looking mildly satisfied. "If you continue to feed yourself like a proper human being," he says, "you might actually survive your finals."

"Yeah, well, if I keep spending time with you, I might also survive on sheer fear," you mutter.

He smiles, that rare, dazzling smile that makes your brain short-circuit for a moment. "Fear is a good motivator. But I expect more than just survival from you. I expect excellence."

You groan. "You know, for a fairy who showed up because of my embarrassing begging, you sure do expect a lot."

Vil just smirks. "You begged for help. I’m making sure you don’t embarrass yourself further by failing."

"Touché," you admit, stuffing another bite of food into your mouth to avoid further conversation.

You know, maybe being insulted by the prettiest fairy in existence while eating fresh, organic food isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you.

But soon enough, it was back to work. After the food debacle, you whipped up a fresh batch of moisturizer for him. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times before, so you’re not expecting much.

Then Vil tries it. And his entire face lights up like you’ve just handed him the elixir of eternal youth.

“This is… impressive,” he says, his voice soft with genuine surprise. “It’s incredibly hydrating, and the texture is—” He pauses, then flashes you a smile that’s so dazzling, it practically sparkles. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

And then, out of nowhere, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek.

You freeze.

Your brain flatlines.

“Wha—Did you just—?”

Vil pulls back, completely unfazed by the fact that he just KISSED YOU. “If you continue to make products of this quality, I may have to keep you around longer.”

Your heart is still trying to restart, but you manage to nod. “Yeah… yeah, sure. Skincare. I can do that.”

You stare at him, wondering if this is real life or if you’ve just died and gone to some bizarre, fairy-run skincare hell. Because if that’s what’s happening, it’s starting to feel weirdly okay. Especially with the way he’s smiling at you.

And as you walk away, still reeling, you catch yourself thinking, Is dropping out of the academy to become Vil’s personal skincare maker really such a bad idea?

Honestly? With a smile like that? You’re starting to think it’s the best idea.

You’ve finally survived—ahem mastered—the hell that was poisons and advanced magical theory under Vil’s terrifyingly perfect supervision. You can now confidently brew lethal concoctions and analyze obscure spells without mentally cursing out every deity you can name. That’s progress. But of course, your next subject is Magical Beasts, and because life apparently hates you, it’s your worst one yet.

When you express this to Vil, expecting some helpful advice or perhaps even a break (hah, wishful thinking), he just waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll ask a friend for help,” he says simply.

And that’s how you end up in the presence of the most extra fairy you’ve ever seen in your life. (Okay, you’ve met a grand total of two fairies, but still.)

The fairy in question bursts into your study room in a whirlwind of sparkles and sheer chaos, trailing a cloud of rose petals and the distinct scent of overly expensive perfume. He’s tall and elegant, his wings shimmering with iridescent hues, and before you can so much as blink, he’s speaking a mile a minute in a mix of French and pure gibberish.

“Mon cher! Quelle horreur! This room is an insult to aesthetics! Non, non, I simply cannot work in these conditions!” he cries dramatically, gesturing wildly at your meticulously organized notes.

You blink. “…What?”

But he’s already prancing around, rearranging your books and scattering glitter like some kind of deranged fairy godmother. Then, with zero transition, Rook starts rambling about magical beasts and their habitats in a way that has your head spinning. One minute he’s critiquing your choice of ink color (“Black? How dull!”), and the next he’s rattling off obscure beast facts with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated professor.

“The Hippogriff prefers moonlight baths! Ah, and the Knarl must be serenaded with music, or it will—how you say?—stab you!” he chirps, waving his delicate hands around in a way that seems more dangerous than helpful.

You’re sitting there, bewildered and slightly concerned for your sanity. “Wait, wait, wait, so—hold up, what do I do if a Knarl shows up in the daytime?”

Rook stares at you like you’ve just asked if water is wet. “Why, you run, of course!” Then he bursts into laughter, as if this is the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

By the end of the afternoon, you’ve lost count of the number of strange and sometimes horrifying tidbits he’s thrown at you. You’re pretty sure you’ve somehow become an expert in magical beast theory without consciously realizing it, and the sheer absurdity of the situation is enough to make you feel like your brain’s been hijacked.

“And that,” the fairy declares with a dramatic twirl, “is how you tame a Chimaera!”

You blink, staring at your notes, which are now a colorful mess of drawings, beast diagrams, and snippets of what you hope are actual instructions and not just fashion advice. “…I feel like I’ve learned a lot. But also absolutely nothing.”

“Perfect!” he crows. “You have done magnifique!”

Before you can process what the heck just happened, you decide to thank him the only way you know how: by giving him a small, beautifully-packaged vial of a custom serum. You’ve worked hard on this formula, combining the best of alchemy and skincare magic, and as soon as you hand it to him, his eyes go wide.

“Pour moi? C’est incroyable!” He clutches it dramatically to his chest, as if you’ve just gifted him a crown jewel. Then, without warning, he’s leaning in way too close, inspecting your face with an intensity that borders on obsessive. “Mon Dieu, you are a true artiste! So beautiful! So—”

“Excuse me,” a low, frosty voice cuts in.

You turn just in time to see Vil gliding over, expression smooth but eyes narrowed. With the grace of a professional diplomat (or maybe a particularly possessive cat), he slips between the two of you, placing a firm hand on the other fairy’s shoulder and gently guiding him away from your personal space.

“Thank you for your assistance, Rook,” Vil says with a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We appreciate your expertise, but I believe that’s enough for today.”

Rook pouts but finally relents. He throws one last, longing glance at your serum and then at you, as if you’re both equally captivating. “Ah, c’est dommage… I shall return!” With that, he flits off, leaving you standing there, more confused than ever.

You turn to Vil, raising an eyebrow. “Uh… thanks?”

But Vil isn’t looking at you like a savior. No, he’s looking at you like you’ve just betrayed his entire bloodline.

“Excuse me,” you ask, blinking in confusion. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

“You,” Vil says slowly, his voice dangerously soft, “are my skincare human.”

You stare at him. “Um. What?”

“Mine.” Vil’s gaze flickers pointedly between you and the direction Rook flew off in, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I did not agree to share your talents with anyone else.”

Oh. Oh.

“Vil,” you say, a grin spreading across your face despite yourself. “Are you… jealous?”

The way his expression shifts from imperious to indignant would almost be funny if it weren’t so incredibly satisfying. “Jealous?” he scoffs, tossing his hair back with a haughty flick. “Don’t be absurd.”

You glance pointedly at the pink tips of his ears, which are steadily darkening into a bright red.

“Riiight,” you say slowly. “Totally not jealous at all. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not,” he insists, crossing his arms, but his voice is just a fraction too defensive.

“Sure, sure,” you say with a mock-serious nod, fighting to keep a straight face. “It’s just that, you know, your ears are kind of giving you away.”

Vil sputters, shooting you a glare that could melt glass. “You—!”

“I’m just saying!” you chirp, smirking as you lean back. “I’m your skincare human. Got it, boss.”

He narrows his eyes, but the flush on his ears betrays him. “Remember it,” he huffs, turning sharply on his heel. “And don’t you dare give away my products to anyone else without consulting me first.”

You watch him stalk off, your grin widening. Maybe studying under Vil isn’t so bad after all.

Finally, your last subject: Offensive Magic. You’re almost at the finish line, but there’s one little problem. Apparently, dueling Vil or Rook is a fast track to the afterlife, and you aren’t too keen on becoming a cautionary tale.

That’s how you find yourself facing off against the youngest of the bunch—a fairy named Epel. He looks as thrilled to be there as you are, which is to say, not at all.

“Vil made me do this,” he mutters under his breath, glaring at nothing in particular.

You quickly realize that Epel’s main emotion is mild resentment, which honestly? Relatable.

The duel begins, and you’re expecting something simple—maybe some low-level spells, something to pad out your barely passing grades. But then Epel smirks, lifts his hand, and suddenly, half the field explodes in a brilliant display of magic that has you rethinking your life choices. Like, seriously reconsidering everything that led you to this exact moment.

You’re left standing there, jaw practically on the floor as bits of dirt rain down around you. “Holy shit,” you breathe. “You’re so cool.”

Epel freezes. His eyes dart to you, clearly shocked by the praise, and he suddenly looks a lot less surly. “...Really?”

“Yeah! That was amazing! I didn’t even know you could do that!”

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to hide a smile. “Well, I’ve been practicing…”

And just like that, you’re friends. Bonded over the mutual understanding that Offensive Magic is both terrifying and awesome when Epel’s involved.

Later that day, after a lesson where you actually didn’t almost explode yourself (personal growth!), you, Vil, and Epel are lounging in the forest. Rook’s off doing...whatever mysterious thing he does, leaving you all in relative peace. You’re casually chatting about the lessons when Epel, totally offhandedly, drops the biggest bomb of the century.

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty lucky the king of the fairies decided to help you out.”

You blink. “The what?”

Epel gives you a look like you’ve just asked if the moon was real. “The king of the fairies. You know, Vil.”

You almost choke. “Vil’s the king of the fairies?” Your voice cracks like you’ve hit puberty again.

Vil, lounging nearby, doesn’t even flinch. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“NO. YOU DIDN’T.”

“Well, now you know.”

You stare at him, mind reeling. “I’ve been—wait—what in the Sevens—you’re the king of the fairies? And you just—casually tutor people? Like it’s no big deal?!”

Vil sighs, flipping through a book as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was not obvious!” You’re flailing at this point, and Epel is snickering behind his hand, clearly enjoying your existential crisis.

Vil’s still cool as a cucumber, but when you stammer, “No wonder you’re the most beautiful fairy I’ve ever seen,” you catch the faintest flicker of a smirk on his face. He straightens up just a little bit, clearly preening at the compliment.

Rook suddenly appears out of nowhere, laughing like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing in his life. “Ah! How charming! Our humble little mage finally sees the light!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, feeling your face heat up. “This is too much. My brain can’t handle this.”

The lesson ends, and you decide to thank Vil the only way you know how—by crafting him a night cream as a parting gift. You’ve gotten pretty good at making skincare, and you can tell he’s been eyeing this particular blend.

But then, in a rare moment of what can only be described as vulnerability, Vil hands you the jar and says, “Could you…apply it for me?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

He’s holding it out to you, but he’s not meeting your eyes, and—wait, are his hands shaking? You squint. Is he nervous?

Nah. Can’t be. Vil doesn’t do nervous.

“Sure,” you say, trying not to overthink it. You take the jar and start gently massaging the cream into his flawless skin. Vil closes his eyes, and for a moment, it’s almost…peaceful.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmurs.

You smile to yourself, oblivious to the emotional storm brewing inside him. “Thanks! I’ve been practicing.”

What you don’t realize is that this was your last lesson. Vil knows this. And for some reason, it’s hitting him hard. He’s spent all this time tutoring you, teaching you everything he knows, and now…you won’t need him anymore. You won’t come back. You’ll pass your exams and move on with your life, leaving him behind. And the thought of that—it stings more than he wants to admit.

Meanwhile, you’re completely unaware of his inner turmoil, humming to yourself as you finish applying the cream. “There you go. All set!”

You stretch, packing up your things, already mentally planning your next skincare batch for him. “Well, I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Wait.” Vil’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. You blink as he suddenly pulls you into a hug, catching you completely off guard.

“Uh…Vil?”

He’s holding you tightly, and when he speaks, his voice is a little sad. “Good luck.”

You frown, confused. “Why do you sound so sad? I'll pass my exams for sure after all your help.”

He doesn’t respond. You shrug and hug him back, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Alright, see you later, drama king.”

And with that, you stroll off, leaving Vil standing there, still holding on to the weight of his unspoken feelings.

Rook, watching from a distance, smiles knowingly. “Ah, how bittersweet…”

Epel just rolls his eyes. “Man, this is like watching a soap opera.”

You passed your exams. Scratch that—you topped them. You’re basically an academic legend now, leaving everyone wondering what kind of ancient god you made a pact with. The professors are whispering your name like you’re some ancient prodigy who’s been secretly acing exams since the dawn of time.

Naturally, you’ve decided to celebrate by making your magnum opus: the most legendary lip balm the world has ever seen. The kind of balm that could revive a dying star, or, more realistically, soothe the chapped lips of a certain fussy fairy.

With your glorious lip balm in hand, you set off to the forest to see Vil. The path is familiar, and yet, today something feels... off. The trees look droopy, the flowers are wilting—like someone forgot to water this whole section of the forest.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, stepping over a vine that looks like it’s given up on life. “Did everyone just forget what hydration is?”

When you reach Vil’s cottage, your gut instinct kicks into overdrive.

Something’s wrong. Really wrong. Your heart is racing. You knock once. Twice. Still nothing. Panic sets in, and before you know it, you’re knocking the door clean off its hinges in your haste.

“Oops,” you whisper, but there’s no time to dwell on it because you see someone on the bed. It’s Vil, and he’s looking about as far from his usual flawless self as you’ve ever seen. He’s feverish, pale, and frankly, it kind of looks like he's dying.

“Vil!” you rush over, shaking him gently. He opens his eyes, squinting at you like you’re an overly bright light in the middle of his fever dream.

“I didn’t know hallucinations could be so vivid,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse.

“What hallucinations? I’m real!” You’re practically crying now, shaking him harder. He just smiles faintly, completely convinced that you’re some fever-induced mirage.

Fantastic. Not only is he sick, but he also thinks you’re a figment of his imagination.

Frantically, you start brewing a cooling potion, your hands shaking as you mix the ingredients. Vil just watches you with a dazed, slightly amused expression, like he’s impressed that his hallucination has such a good grasp on potion-making.

“I’m real,” you repeat, as you pour the potion down his throat. He gives a tiny nod before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Cue full-on panic mode. You don’t know what’s happening or why Vil’s like this, so you do the only thing you can think of—you send a carrier pigeon to Rook, because of course fairies don’t have phones.

Rook shows up in record time, practically gliding into the cottage like some kind of majestic hunting bird. He takes one look at the pitiful scene—Vil feverish and weak, you hovering like an anxious mother hen—and smiles.

“Oh, he’s heartbroken,” Rook declares, as if that explains everything.

“Heartbroken?!” you echo, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “I saw him two days ago, and he was fine. How could he be heartbroken in two days?!”

“Ah,” Rook says, his eyes twinkling with dramatic flair, “fairies can only fall in love once, and when they do, they fall hard. He thought you wouldn’t return after your exams. He was suffering in silence, believing you’d move on without him.”

You stare at Rook, dumbfounded. “Is he blind?!” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been horrendously in love with him since day one! How could he not notice?”

Rook just beams at you, like you’ve confirmed his favorite romantic theory. “Ah, l’amour. So tragic, yet so beautiful.”

At this point, you’re ready to throw your hands up in frustration. How does Vil not notice? You’ve been making him skincare products, practically living in his cottage, and hovering over him like a lovesick puppy. Could he really think you were just going to leave? But of course, Vil—being Vil—had assumed you’d outgrow him and move on to something better, leaving him behind like a discarded serum bottle.

With renewed determination, you take care of Vil, nursing him back to health with potions and plenty of water. You even manage to coax him to eat something other than the fairy equivalent of air-dried kale. Slowly, he starts looking more like himself, his fever fading and his color returning. But when he finally wakes up, fully lucid, his eyes widen in shock.

“You... you’re real?” he whispers, staring at you like you’re some miraculous vision.

“Yes, I’m real,” you huff, crossing your arms. “And I made this.” You pull out the lip balm you’ve been working on, your prized creation. You swipe some on your lips and then lean down to kiss him.

Vil blinks, stunned into silence. After a moment, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s... a surprisingly effective balm.”

You grin, feeling the tension melt away. “Maybe you should test it again.”

Vil wastes no time, pulling you in for another kiss, his lips soft and cool from the balm. He kisses you a second time, then a third—because, well, it’s important to make sure the balm has long-lasting effects, right?

But then, you pull back slightly, the grin slipping from your face. “Vil, I... I passed all my exams. I even got an offer to move to the capital.”

Vil’s entire body tenses. His hands, still resting on your waist, tighten slightly as his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—fear? Dread? Whatever it is, it’s like a storm cloud settling over him.

“Oh.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to it, like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable. “I see.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself so carefully, as if preparing for you to tell him you’re leaving. That you’re going to take the offer and disappear from his life, just like he feared. He’s already trying to let you go, even as his hands tremble slightly against your waist. It hits you all at once—how terrified he must have been, thinking you’d leave him behind.

For a moment, you just watch him, your heart aching at the sight of his barely concealed distress. And then, finally, you say, “I declined the offer.”

Vil’s breath catches. His eyes snap up to yours, wide with disbelief. “You... you what?”

You smile, leaning in closer. “I declined. I’m not going anywhere, Vil. In fact...” You take a deep breath, your grin widening. “I’m opening a skincare shop right here, on the edge of the forest. And I’m going to live here. With you. No arguments.”

For a moment, Vil just stares at you, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Then, slowly, the tension in his body dissolves, replaced by pure, unfiltered relief. His hands, which had been shaking moments ago, steady as they pull you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You’re staying?” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m staying,” you confirm, your heart swelling at the way he’s holding you, like he’s afraid to let go.

Vil presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice so soft, you almost miss it.

Your heart skips a beat. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too, drama king.”

Vil huffs out a small, breathy laugh, pulling you down into the bed with him, his arms wrapped securely around you. For a moment, everything is still, peaceful, as you lie there together, tangled in each other’s arms. Neither of you says a word, content just to hold each other, the weight of the past few days finally lifting.

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—by Vil’s side, where you’ve always belonged.

I'm so deeply in love with this man it's kinda embarrassing

Masterlist

[thepaperpanda]

Sneaking Away || Neteyam x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: You might be a bit mistaken if you thought that escaping Neteyam's hut was a good idea

Warnings: smut without plot 🔥

Word count: 1665

Author: Rouge

A/N: prior to reading, it’s important to know that: the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ characters are aged up (Neteyam is 20, reader is 19) ✤ a few things are in Na'vi language ✤ you'll find a glossary underneath the fic

Your legs and arms were tangled after what seemed like a long nap; his naked body pressed against yours, his breath bathing your nape.

Slowly, you tried to stretch a bit, but couldn't since Neteyam was tightly hugging you. The fact that you were completely naked didn't stop you from getting up. After slipping away from Neteyam as quietly as possible, you ran for the door.

It was not long before his voice reached every corner of the room. "Why are you getting up?" Neteyam asked, his tone devoid of sleepiness.

"My limbs feel sore, so I need to move a bit. I think I’ll get dressed and have a little walk," you explained with a sigh, "I'll be back soon, you can get back to sleep," you promised, but hesitated to take another step.

Before he even spoke, you knew he was standing behind you. Even though he hadn't touched you yet, you could feel chills running down your spine as he whispered right into your ear, "Nìawnomum, there's no need to leave this place to move your body, oeyä 'eve." His lips brushed your earlobe slowly, and you whined quietly.

After turning you around, he grinned widely when he saw that you were turning bright red up to your pointy ears. Neteyam cupped your face, as he had done countless times before, planting kisses along the outline of your jawline while his fingers reached to your lower, exposed regions.

You couldn't resist giving in no matter how hard you tried, and this time was no different. The contact between his thumb and your clit caused you to inhale sharply as you turned your head away from him as you were trying to hide the blush showering your face, though it made no difference, since he already kneeled down, grabbed your thighs, and bit lightly on your soft skin while kissing your flesh tenderly.

In no time at all, your moans would be heard outside the hut, and you knew that they'd only get louder, so you decided it was pointless to hide your pleasure.

Knowing he could bring you to the point where you would be unable to control your own actions gave Neteyam immense satisfaction, and it was impossible to deprive him of it.

That's the exact look he gave you when he pulled away so he could push you back onto the bed.

"I have not moved an inch even though you told me I could by staying in here with you. So, among other things, you are a liar too, Neteyam," you responded and watched his eyes widened; in spite of your willingness to give him all the satisfaction he wanted, you continued to make your usual sarcastic remarks.

Hissing, he said, "You'll regret those words soon enough." After these words he tenderly kissed your breast.

You closed your eyes and drove your nails into the cot; your pulse increased at the mere thought of his taste.

While he pinched your nipples and kneaded your breasts, you ran your fingers through his hair and wrapped your legs around his slender waist.

His kisses were like torture as you needed him right there and then already, yet Neteyam seemed to gloat whenever quiet whimpers escaped your parted lips; he slowly kissed your body, tasting your warm skin, trembling like a leaf on a northern breeze under his every kiss as he kissed his way down, between your legs. Soon, using two fingers, Neteyam rubbed his fingertips along your outer lips until he found you were wet enough. Even though you knew he was holding back in order to get you to apologize, something you didn't intend to do, your body was begging for something much greater. "Nì'ul!" you moaned without thinking, trying to push your hips more into his touch.

Neteyam heard your pleas out and stuck another finger into you, never separating his lips from your pussy.

Your hips trembled as you whimpered, "Deeper, Neteyam."

A brief chuckle passed through his lips, but as soon as it vanished, his fingers curled into you, even though it wasn't enough to satisfy your desires.

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours, positioning it so as to allow him to reach deeper; your pleas for greater things were mixed with cries of pleasure.

His thumb put more pressure on your clit as he watched your facial expression with a wry smirk dancing in the corners of his mouth.

You were only a few seconds away from climaxing when he pulled his fingers out, leaving you looking at him with contempt in your eyes.

"I told you you'd regret it," his huge smirk just annoyed you more, and you attempted to get up from the bed to leave the hut, but he pulled you back under him, pinning your shoulders down with ease.

In an effort to switch places and bring yourself on top, you exhaled, "You're the worst, Neteyam."

As his gaze traveled across your body, he focused on the places you loved to be touched most; he was in a submissive stance, but looked at you as if you were at the bottom.

Even though you knew it was nearly impossible to change that, you still wanted to try. Before you reached his abdomen with your palm, you planted kisses on his neck, moving down to his collarbones. As you stroked the base of his cock, you felt him twitch under your touch. You couldn't help but sneer - it was unusual for him to react that way, which made you even more eager for what would follow. When you first took him in your hand and started pumping, his cock was already rock-hard.

The pace increased faster than usual; you were so excited that you couldn't stop yourself. You pushed him off yourself and rolled on top of him, and he gladly obliged. While bending down, you licked his tip and took him little by little into your mouth. Your greed made you move even lower, causing his balls to come in close contact with your lips as you left behind all signs of restraint.

When Neteyam was close to finishing, you pulled away slowly, ensuring that your tongue slid along his entire cock. In the midst of playing with a hair strand, you leaned against his ear. "What's wrong? You want more?" Your voice was nothing but a whisper; his body was tensed under you as you straddled him slowly, gently grinding your pussy against his erected shaft. "Don't worry, I am not finished yet, yawntutsyìp."

Tugging at his left earlobe, you sucked at the crook of his neck, savoring the warm taste of his sweaty skin. You were almost ecstatic at the mere thought of this man being willing to share his corporeality with you. After you'd finished, you sat up slightly, grabbed his cock, lined it up with your entrance, and lowered yourself onto him until he was inside of you. Upon entering your core, soft moans escaped your lips and you sat on his lap more firmly, regaining your balance and moving your hips fluidly.

Neteyam caressed your breasts and traced the outline of your spine with his hands; his lips parted as he watched you with a bliss. After you leant forward, your chin was raised by him and he kissed you, his tongue running over your teeth briefly before he went deeper, holding you close to him throughout.

"I assume your limbs are not that sore anymore. Why don't you just lay back and relax?" He suggested in the softest tone he could muster.

After nodding, with a last roll of your hips, you rolled off him and lied down on your back, grateful for the cold sheets underneath you.

"Are you willing to apologize for what you said previously, for calling me a liar?" Neteyam asked, tracing the curve of your hips with his index finger. When you opened your mouth to protest, he harshly pressed his lips against yours to silence you in an eager kiss.

Your gaze was fixed on his face as he climbed on top of you and yanked your thighs apart. After jerking his shaft a few times, Neteyam pushed into you without the slightest sign of hesitation. His movements were slow and not without impact as you moaned his name and the occasional harder or quicker, both of which he conveniently chose to ignore.

The fact that he had been waiting for his turn made you realize that he would probably take his sweet time with you. Soon, however, his hips thrust into you faster, his cock so deep inside your pussy that your bodies became one. Moaning, you felt your pussy clenched around his shaft, spasming rhythmically, leaving you trembling in his arms; it was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced. In spite of this, he didn't slow down and you could see drops of sweat forming on his brow as his speed increased.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you caressed the skin of his nape with your nails, whispering sweet nothings into his ear - you expressed how much you loved him, what he meant to you. You clung to him, rocking back and forth in perfect sync, lusting for more even if you'd already reached your climax.

The last time he pushed himself forward, he wanted to get as deep inside you as possible, and you welcomed his cum when it filled you.

As Neteyam gasped for air, he laid on top of you, occasionally kissing your cheek. 

In the midst of a long silence, you teased, "So? Are you not interested in my apology anymore, oeyä yawntu?"

As he gazed down at your face, still flushed from the intercourse you two shared, he propped himself on his hands. "Don't even start, little one, or I'll get angry again."

Biting your lower lip, you flicked his nose. "I'm just teasing. You know I mean no harm. Nga yawne lu oer.”

Glossary:

oeyä yawntu - my beloved

oeyä - my

oeyä 'eve - my girl

yawntutsyìp - darling

nga yawne lu oer - I love you

nìawnomum - as you know

nì'ul - more

[jennas-stuffs]

our little secret: mission impossible

TW: unprotected sex, piv, fingering, hickey-making, nipple-sucking, brief head (fem receiving), fluff, fem reader.

authors note: this is my first time writing smut so i’m definitely open to tips and constructive criticism 😭

i can’t believe i’m saying this but im actually excited about a college class this year. i’ve always loved criminology, i watched basically every tv series there is containing it growing up. so it’s safe to say i didn’t hate the actual subject my last three years, i just hated the professor. ok sure i doze off every now and then but i know my stuff. it’s just that, he doesn’t believe i do. just because he’s some super genius only a year older than me and already teaching people doesn’t mean that he gets to be the only smart one. enough about him because my complaints have finally been heard and the administration finally finally let me switch classes. i can finally be rid of him. i walk into class with my head up high only to find my posture slump down and my smile fade into a frown.

“hello again y/n, you didn’t think you would get rid of me that easily huh?”

what the actual fuck. what the fuck happened.

“i thought i was switching classes.” i say with my jaw shut tight

“i promised the admins that they wouldn’t have to do all that because i would make it work. also it doesn’t look too good for me when one of my students transfers out my class because we were having ‘altercations.’

the sound of every word out of his mouth is almost identical to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. i nod so he can shut up and angrily stomp to a seat. out of spite, i nap my way through his class and to my surprise i wake up to the sound of the bell signaling my next class. i wake up confused, “why didn’t he wake me up? he always does, he loves disturbing my beauty sleep.” i shake it off and pick up the class paperwork i’ll have to make up along with my homework. a week passes by with undisturbed sleep, this is just getting weird. maybe this is what he meant by making it work. if it is, i’ll have to stay i expected more from him. hes so professional and strict, as would anyone expect coming from an ex-fbi agent. i mean this guy literally saw people die in front of him, and didn’t one of the serial killers set him up to be put in jail? what does he think he’s doing letting me sleep in his class? i should confront him. if he wants me in his class, he’s gonna have to earn it. he thought he could have the easy way out with me, oh no no no. i make a plan to set an appointment with him at the end of the day.

his office is neat and organized like i expected. too bad his freakishly tidy desk is gonna get a glimpse of this sleep deprived, angsty, college student.

we sit down and he quickly releases an exhale.

“so i’m assuming this meeting is about our non-existent altercations, because your grades are great, y/n. i haven’t started a feud just yet so what’s going on?”

i stand up rapidly, pushing my seat backwards. i slam my hand on his desk, leaving a mark on his papers, not like i care though.

“good job figuring that one out professor genius. so listen up. if you think just letting me sleep thorough your class is gonna prevent me from complaining to the admins again, think again. you probably think this is the easy way out so you don’t have to actually work it out with me well guess what. that’s extremely unprofessional. and in all honesty i expected more from you. im disappointed, professor reid. i guess your retired days from the fbi really tore you down huh? you don’t have that same spark in you- you”

“i know about your nightmares y/n.”

…

“what?”

“i’m retired from the fbi, correct. from the behavioral analysis unit. i can still profile people you know. from what i’ve noticed, you barley get any sleep and run on coffee. the work you miss in class you use as an excuse to stay up late at night to procrastinate on the sleep you know will wake you up in cold sweat the next morning. the only good sleep you seem to get, is the one in my class. see, i used to mind the fact that you were just sleeping though my lectures but it’s never interfered with your grade. so, i figured since it’s your last year of college and all i would allow my period to be your nap time.”

…

i sit down shamefully and shrink in my seat. i’m so embarrassed. he was just trying to help me and i snapped at him. i feel like an idiot.

“im so sorry. and thank you. thank you so much.”

one more word and i’ll burst out crying. i quickly pick up my bag and head for the door. but my wrist is grabbed by a warm hand.

“wait, y/n?”

i turn around to meet his eyes and pray he doesn’t notice the extra liquid in them.

i clear my throat, “yes professor reid?”

my wrist hasn’t been released yet.

“are you getting help for the- you know.”

“um i used to when i was little and it helped and they went away, but it came back.”

“when?”

“since i started college.”

“can you sit back down please, i just want to talk.”

here he is being so helpful and i’ve been hating him this whole time. when he wasn’t worried for my grades, he was worried for my sleep, and when he isn’t worried for my sleep, he’s worried for my mental health. i feel like such a petty bitch.

my wrist is released and we sit down.

we talk for hours and hours and he tells me stories of when he was an agent. i’ve never laughed so much in my life. we trade in our top worst and best moments in our lives when he realizes…

“wait so, sorry, if this is crossing a line and feel free to not answer but you’ve had boyfriends. but you’ve never had sex?”

“yeahh that’s accurate. it’s just everytime i think about someone seeing me naked i just get tense, like, just the thought of it makes me squirm.”

“so you have body image issues?”

“woww way to be slick with that one profiler, but sure, i guess.”

he laughs. and this laugh was different from all the other ones because it was this laugh i realized i don’t hate his voice anymore. it actually sounds, nice.

“so you’re telling me you’ve tried everything, all your therapists have given you medication and nothing really stuck?”

“i’m a lost cause doc.”

“don’t say that.”

…

“you know you haven’t tried everything.”

“sex makes me barf. no way.”

“hey a pretty girl like you can easily find some college guy to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded y/n.”

“mhm because you’ve had so much experience.”

his face goes pink.

“how did you know?”

“what? no i was kidding. wait. you’ve never had sex either? YOU HYPOCRITE!”

“it’s much easier said than done.”

“hey, a handsome guy like yourself can easily find some girl to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded professor.”

“spencer”

“what?”

“in my office, you can call me spencer”

“okay, spencer, how about we make a deal.”

“what kind of deal?” he says with a raised eyebrow

“the first to have sex is the better person because they are not a hypocrite.”

“that sounds like mission impossible but. ok. fine. deal.”

“REALLY? i was just joking but OKAY DEAL.”

we shake hands and i go back to my dorm and sleep. i slept, better, that night.

we check in with each other everyday to see if the other person won yet.

“has mission impossible been completed professor?”

“nope. what about you y/n?”

“nope.”

that’s not all we did, though. we went out to cafes to talk about life and how us virgins are channeling that sex energy into some other thing. seeing professor reid, i mean spencer, outside of school was weird. all of sudden his eyes were easier to look into. i just couldnt get enough of them. it was like i was drowning in them. don’t get me started on that voice paired with that cute face. i could just snuggle myself up into each word that came out of his mouth. but we had that same check up conversation everyday after class for a whole month until…

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you free by the end of the day i wanna talk to you in my office”

“what happened to meeting up at the cafe? wait. did i miss an assignment? i’m so sorry i’ll make it up i swear.”

he smiles and laughs. that beautiful laugh. “no no i just wanna talk in a more private setting. you know how people can eavesdrop in cafes.”

“oh yeah sure i’ll see you then.”

“see you.”

WHY DID I SAY SURE? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME. THAT WHOLE REASON WHY I NEEDED US TO BE IN A CAFE WAS BECAUSE IT WAS PUBLIC. i can’t help myself when i see him. i know it’s wrong because he’s my teacher but he’s just a year older? i’m trying to justify these feelings for him but i can’t. i can’t help it. he’s so nice to me and i don’t deserve it, i just wanna repay him. no,nonononono. i can’t. not in that way. i have a meeting with him and it’s in his office so it’s strictly professional.

…

“hey y/n”

“hi professor”

he raises an eyebrow.

“hi spencerr, ” i say as i roll my eyes.

“ok good so uh.”

he pulls his chair and adjusts mine so that we’re sitting face to face, with no desk in the middle. god, this is gonna be a long meeting for me.

“i think we’re gonna have to switch your class”

“what?! why! we just started getting along don’t ruin it now!”

truthfully, i wouldn’t mind. all this tension i felt would definitely tone down if i didn’t see him so much. but i wanna see him, i love the butterflies he give me. it’s just so annoying i can’t do anything to ‘relieve’ them.

“well we’re just too friendly now, there’s barley any teacher-student boundaries.”

“are you serious. YOU’RE THAT ONE THAT INSISTS I CALL YOU BY YOUR FIRST NAME.”

he smiles “it’s not only that”

“you’ve chewed up my heart by making me switch classes, so, spit it out.”

“i think i like you.”

my heart feels like it’s gonna pop out of my chest, my pussy throbes and my stomach get butterflies. i get this overwhelming feeling of kissing him. but i can’t. we can’t. we shouldn’t. i look to the door and i look back at him. i stand up and walk up to the door, and lock it. i close the blinds and look at him.

“i like you too spencer.”

he grabs me by the waist and pins me to the door. we’re half a centimeter away from each others lips. looking at each others eyes and looking back down at each others lips.

“we shouldn’t.”

he nods, “we shouldn’t”

we slam each others lips against each other, making me let out the dirtiest of moans. he looks down on me and watches me unfold underneath him.

“you’re just a hot mess for me hm?”

i whimper and notice the throbbing feeling in my pussy intensify. it’s a hot steamy make out scene in his pretty little office, and i wonder how badly we can mess it up.

“spencer?” i gasp, barley having enough breath between kisses.

“fuck. say my name again please y/n.”

i moan, “spencer”

“again baby”

i cry out “spencer”

he says in his sweet voice “yes y/n?”

“fuck me.” i say in a whimper

and with those two words he kicks off his shoes and kisses me again. i mirror him taking off his clothes, working is way down, and up. once we’re both completely stripped he takes a second to look me up and down.

“you’re beautiful. all this time you’ve been hiding this?”

he bends his knees in front of me and kisses my breasts. i giggle at the feeling it gives me, similar to a tickle. he is just so sweet it melts me. while making out we move to his desk, where he pushes all his papers to the floor. he lays me down and my skin winces at the coldness of the wood. he’s sucks on my top lip, bottom lip, my jawline, my neck, my collarbone, making his way down to my nipples. i whimper, feeling his tongue go around in circles. i let out a loud moan, almost a scream, and notice the sudden arch my back went into when he starts to suck. he plans to leave every intimate place on my body with a hickey.

“you wanna leave marks on me spencer?”

he nods, making his way to the other nipple.

it’s just the sound of my whining and his sucking in his office, he breaks the silence for a second.

“i wanna show everyone you’re mine.”

then immediately goes back to sucking.

��my neck shows that enough-mm- spencer.”

“spencer… ohh spencer”

“yes y/n”

“feel me.”

that seems to have gotten him to stop sucking and he sticks to fingers up my throbbing pussy. i whimper at the motion.

“so wet, all of this for me?”

“mhm all for you”

he moves his fingers up and down, making me become a moaning, whining, whimpering, ‘hot’, mess again.

“spencer?”

“yes baby”

“i need you inside me.”

he looks down on me and suddenly the innocent light in his eyes disappear, witnessing a dark cloudy haze rolling in, covering his eyes.

“oh yeah?”

too far deep in the storm that is his eyes to speak, i simply nod. plus, that “oh yeah?” left me FOLDED.

he leaves a trail of kisses on my inner thighs, making me squirm. i feel the heat on his breath when he sticks out his tongue and sucks my core. he sits up and holds his dick, moving the the tip up and down against my folds.

“damn it spencer,” sounding like a whining brat, “stick it in already.”

he slams it in, thrusting forcefully, but slowly.

“faster.”

“yes baby”

i moan, grabbing his hair for support while my back arches even more, begging for more.

he speeds up, faster and faster, filling the office with the sound of unholy clicking, and not the type of clicking that comes from a clock. wet clicking.

i keep moaning his name…

“spencer, spencer, spencer?, oh fuck spencer, yes, please, fuck, fuck, spencer, i’m gonna cum im gonna cum, spencer.”

my head jolts back as he rails me through my orgasm.

…

now we’re laying on top of each other on his, now, filthy desk, covered in our cum and sweat. as we catch our breath i say unconsciously out loud,

“oh shit.”

i feel his laugh vibrating from his chest to mine.

“no, spencer, this is bad.”

“why?”

i sit up now realizing the mistake i made. he mirrors my action with a concerned expression.

“isn’t there some kind of rule in the university’s handbook that forbids students from having sexual relations with their teachers? i mean that’s considering that an average professor would be much older than them, usually it would be illegal anyways. do you think they would make some sort of exception? wait, do you think we’d have to tell them? will i get suspended? will you loose your job? oh my god, ok. so what if… what?”

he keeps staring at me rambling with a goofy smile plastered on his face that’s suppressing a laugh.

“whattt?”

“you know no one has to know about this, right?”

“but what if someone finds out?”

“y/n, what time did i have you come meet me in this office?”

“7pm”

“mhm.”

my eyes widen at the realization.

“ok so you made me come over when you knew the office would be closed just so you could confess your feelings to me, in your office, when the building was closed and everyone went back home?”

“yeah.”

“you know you could’ve just invited me over to your place. you didn’t have to make it so complicated.”

“well our situation is complicated, and if we want to continue to explore this ‘situation,’ we’re gonna have to be sneaky.”

i feel my face heating up.

“soo your likee my secret loverrrr”

he cracks a smile.

“i guess this’ll be our little secret.”

…

after we get back in our clothes and walk out together to our cars, he turns to me and says,

“hey y/n, have you completed mission impossible?”

“yup, what about you?”

“yeah, same.”

😱😱😱 THE END 😱😱😱

[jingyi-ma-boi]

Well, the crack had to be there at some point, yk? And honestly, the idea of a queer 17-ish year old making SQQ and SQH go absolutely ballistic cause they're constantly trying to not give themselves away through their reactions to their shit has got me in a chokehold for the past few days.

I can perfectly picture their bewilderment at the way this kid knows SO MUCH about them while talking in a non-stop string of gen-z douyin memes and tumblr deep lore cause of course this kid learnt how to bypass censorship using proxy IDs at 13. At one point, in private, the kid meows at them and pulls the 'ichi ni san! nya! arigato!' dance at them just to spite them and see if they can get them to stop pretending they aren't transmigrators.

SQH develops a tic in his eye cause he didn't think PIDW could get any worse nor chaotic than it was before he transmigrated. But now! A queer! Anarchist! Cat person! Who's a fucking OTAKU invested in kawaii culture, gay shit, and messing with rich people with poor cybersecurity measures (maia arson entered the chat) has hijacked his stallion-novel-turned-danmei! He thought he had escaped the bad clichéd tropes and finally managed to make PIDW a novel with a great plot and even greater, beautifully constructed complex characters. And then this kid comes to fuck shit up in the extras, and kick him in the balls.

Meanwhile the kid would be so happy, being able to jump among universes and unleash complete mayhem either because 1) they don't have a System to control their actions, because they're not an actual transmigrator (which in turn makes them have a small existential crises and might become aware of the 4th wall not of PIDW but of SVSSS) giving them the perfect opportunity to pull strings everywhere and do as they please; 2) they have a System, but it basically instructs them to simply be gay, do crimes and have the time of their life because they have transmigrated into fan fiction. The more chaotic and unhinged, the more points they get.

Scenario where PIDW Bingge had something like the fucked up baby dimension from Fire Emblem: Fates for handling his kids.

For those who haven't played enough Fire Emblem games: in Fates you can hook up various characters who will, once they've bonded sufficiently, get married and have children. Because there is a dangerous war on and nobody has time for childcare, these babies get sent to various pocket dimensions where time moves differently, where they are raised by servants. They then reappear in the story as adults (mostly) who are also just like, barely younger than their own parents. This is of course hilariously fucked up, for even more reasons than what a simple overview can convey, and it's also just kind of shrugged off by the narrative despite the many, many bewildering implications involved.

So I'm imagining Airplane stealing this whole concept and sitting down to write about Bingge sending all of his children away in order to protect them from his enemies or whatever other excuse, creating special nursery dimensions with Xin Mo only to not really spend any time with his offspring at all, resulting in a lot of them growing up extra fast and reentering the story as adults at wildly unpredictable intervals (i.e. whenever Airplane feels like it without having to remember the timelines involved because *waves hand* time passes differently in the different dimensions too). For the daughters, this just gets them married off into alliances (if they're even mentioned at all, because Airplane doesn't want to write incest and there's basically only one reason female characters get mentioned in this story), but for the sons, this usually has them showing up as upstart challengers to their father's throne. With a conclusion, generally, of them getting their asses kicked and then being sent back to their pocket dimensions with their tails between their legs (Binghe killing his own kids would be too reprehensible, after all). Sometimes (rarely) they become loyal generals. One or two have died to fuel revenge arcs. The protagonist halo extends only limited benefits to his kids.

Anyway, Shen Yuan of course reads all of this and absolutely hates it. What do you mean Binghe doesn't even raise his own kids?! What do you mean even their mothers don't?! Shen Yuan understands that Luo Binghe is an important guy with important things to do, but handling it this way makes it impossible to even consistently visit his children on their birthdays! They'd be having birthdays every day because they're all on freaking Narnia time! And of course his sons keep growing up and trying to overthrow him, surely Binghe himself should appreciate that under these conditions, his children are going to see the servants raising them as parents more than some distant emperor they've never met...? Not to mention, if time moves quickly in these dimensions, theoretically Binghe could just stay there with his kids himself and not have to worry too much about things changing in his realm, because only a few months would pass there! He could have it both -- spend plenty of time with his kids and not worry about neglecting his responsibilities! So why doesn't he do that?!

The answer (never actually provided by Airplane) is that Bingge doesn't really feel a strong connection to his children, and because of his reverence for his adoptive mother, he thinks that giving them peaceful lives with simple people to raise and love them is the kindest thing he can do for them. If he could have had an idyllic childhood with his mother in a place where nothing could harm him, he would have never sought power at all.

But of course, Binghe's kids aren't thinking "oh gosh yeah my humble childhood in a magic dimension was much better than starving on the streets!" because that wasn't ever going to be their fate in the first place. Instead they all develop varying complexes about being sent away by their impossibly remote father and his giant harem.

Possible fic ideas involving this setup:

-Bingyuan where Shen Yuan transmigrates into the intended tutor of one Luo Binghe's most troublesome sons. SY arrives in the baby dimension and immediately bonds with the little Luo, gets really mad about the whole situation all over again, and when Bingge shows up for a rare visit, rips him a new asshole about it. Romcom shenanigans ensue.

-Scenario where SV's Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe decide they're ready to adopt, and SQQ figures out a back door into PIDW Binghe's baby dimensions and just sort of, ehm, borrows some of the children he knows had really bad times in the novel (not all of the idyllic upbringings worked out, there were instances of the dimensions being attacked and the servants there being killed and etc). Bingge eventually finds out. Dramatics ensue.

-When PIDW Binghe tries to summon a Shen Yuan of his own to the PIDW world using Xin Mo, it accidentally creates some stability issues with the baby dimensions. Shen Yuan get teleported in and out of these dimensions instead, bonding with the kids there to various degrees, only to be swept away every time Bingge tries to use Xin Mo to find him again. A handful of years later, a bunch of new Heavenly Demon scions emerge as adults with the Luo family's Shizun Complex in full swing, right around the same time that Bingge finally captures Shen Yuan. Hijinks ensue.

[l-in-the-light]

Why is Law more stressed, more serious and often grumpy and annoyed in Wano? Thought he would be relieved after Luffy defeated Deflamingo 🤔he couldn't even relax at the banquet 😑

Broody Law is actually my favourite Law, which means I enjoyed him so much in Wano ❤ But why is he delivering behaving like that, indeed? Let's summarize the Wano experience from his side, shall we?

his alliance with Strawhats gets sidetracked because Luffy went to Big Mom to retrieve Sanji. He barely avoided a conflict (not really)

he's stuck at Wano, worrying his ass off for Luffy, hoping he's not left with half of Strawhats crew to take care for forever now

everyone is dying of hunger and getting sick in Wano, because they can't stop drinking water from the polluted river

Luffy finally arrives, Bepo gets sick, Luffy in the meantime does The Worst Thing Possible and Law's efforts to patch up the situation do not work out

Luffy snaps and runs off to fight Kaido

Kaido bombs away Strawhats and Hearts crews while Luffy and Law are already near town and can't do shit about it

he fails to stop Luffy from fighting Kaido

he fails to stop Kaido from putting Luffy in prison

freaking Hawkins getting in his way

crews turn out to be fine, but freaking Kinemon soon leaves to find remaining Akazaya samurais. Now the whole raid plan and making sure it's not exposed is Law's job. On top of that, he needs to take care not only of his Heart Pirates, but also Strawhats, because their captain is in jail. Two crews, a raid plan and the weight of 20 years of revenge is all hanging on Law's neck.

freaking Germa (he's a Sora follower, ok)

he almost throws it all away when Hearts get put in prison

he's got accussed that his crew is crap and he should just kill them off, all that coming from his very own allies he's been taking care of for last couple of weeks!

freaking Hawkins again

getting tortured (just another monday morning amirite)

finding traitor and making sure the raid doesn't fail in the process. Is Luffy finally out of that prison, what is he doing there? Or maybe, that's for the best, he can't make the situation even worse...

Luffy arrives late to the raid and late to the rooftop battle

Luffy brought freaking Eustass Kid to the raid

Luffy is ordering him around in front of freaking Eustass Kid

Luffy tells him to get along with freaking Eustass Kid

Zoro-ya almost died on his watch

Kurashi-ya (literally) caught him in a middle of an embarrassing blunder

Eustass Kid is behaving like a newborn baby and Law has to babysit him

LUFFY BROUGHT FREAKING BIG MOM TOGETHER WITH HIM

now it's Law's job to fight Big Mom. He didn't sign up for this!

Luffy nearly drowned in the sea while fighting Kaido

Luffy lost and died while fighting Kaido

Luffy got revived and won against Kaido

Law had to make bigass room, bigger than anything he made in Dressrosa, probably cutting down on his lifespan in the process

Law has to take care of stuff no one cares about after the raid succeeds, which is taking care of the ships, searching for the poneglyphs (no one but him cared for that in the middle of the raid!) and probably patching many, many people up

he ends up stranded with Robin in some moldy underground chamber for hours, while being seriously exhausted, sleep deprived and in the middle of recovery from his injuries

he doesn't join in the banquet out of spite (no one told him about Jimbei joining the Strawhats. Is Law a joke to them?!), besides just in case a certain Luffy would assault him there, make him go all night long eating and playing around and celebrating, all the while probably bugging him to become a 100% part of the Strawhat crew or at least extend their alliance to together forever status.

And that's just the major things listed! I'm sure I missed some details here and there.

Overall, I think he was stressed and exhausted, because he was carrying a lot of responsibility (and the stakes were extremely high!), at certain points almost the whole raid plan's success was depending solely on him, while others merrily ignored the dangers. He also had two crews to take care of for the whole arc, constantly worried himself over Luffy, got pissed at Eustass Kid and had to cooperate with him (he hates that dude!), and at the end of it his world got almost turned upside down in worst possible way (Luffy dying and raid failing as the result, and the vision of all of them dying flashed before his eyes).

As Bepo reveals to us in the midst of Winner Island escape, Law wants to stay behind with his crew even if it kills him and needs to be reassured that no one is dying there. That suggests Law doesn't deal well with people close to him dying, which shouldn't surprise us after what happened in Flevance and later also to Cora-san. I'm sure Wano hit Law harder than we expect, because there he was, finally believing in people again (Luffy), only for Luffy to die on him as well. Old issues must have resurfaced and his fear of losing people worsened as the result.

I think we should cut him some slack, shouldn't we? Wano was definitely not a walk in the park for Law, especially psychologically-wise. Though to be fair, he could relax and laze around a bit, we see it happen, right before Strawhat Luffy waltzes into the country. That was the last time we saw him actually calm and resting, so I guess that alone gives us another answer to your question as well ;)

And then his alliance ended, and we know Law doesn't like dramatic things, which also means overly emotional goodbyes. It was probably pretty difficult for him to part ways and maybe he thought it would be easier if he avoided Luffy for most of the time after the raid finished. And then Chopper went and almost blew all his efforts up with his warm send-off! Law owes a lot to Strawhats and his debt is only getting bigger, but it won't change his withholding personality.

Did Law find peace after Mingo was defeated? Not exactly, because I don't believe Doflamingo was Law's end goal. Just take a look at his reaction when Luffy finally wins:

Everyone is crying and celebrating, but Law's face looks like this instead. Does this look like a face of a person who finally got rid of his demons and is set free? What about Flevance, are we forgetting that? Law has a lot on his plate, Mingo was simply one of the obstacles in his way (but an important one!). If you want to know more about what I think about Law's end goals, I wrote about it here: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/761556630027616256 (the topic starts somewhere around the second picture). That's why I don't think he is at peace or that his revenge is over and we shouldn't expect him to completely "move on" or reach perfect closure just because Mingo is now out of the picture.

There's one exception though. I do believe Law is showing his emotions more openly after Dressrosa. And I think it's actually a sign of him healing and partially moving on.

Because just look at this. Law was always annoyed with his beloved Cora-san as well, and yet we never doubt he loved him dearly. In Wano Law is acting the same way towards the Strawhats, openly showing when he's annoyed and angry. That's how he shows affection and worry. Compare it to Punk Hazard, when he's always holding back, stoic and cold, keeping his comments and reactions to bare minimum. Dressrosa changed everything in Law's emotional department. And the result is that he did open up to his allies.

Also I feel like it's my duty to remind the world about this, often overlooked, fact: so far Law celebrated in the feast exactly one time, in Dressrosa. He didn't join in on Punk Hazard, Zou or Wano. So it's not really a "Wano thing", but more like Law almost always choosing other things over feasting ;) personally, I think it's because of that "30 minutes on festival" rule he had in his household as a child. He's probably not used to just playing around for hours. Besides, we should never underestimate Law's pettiness. Not joining the celebration might have been as well just a petty payback of his, for every offense that happened to him in Wano, lol.

I'm not sure if you liked my answer, anon, but I hope you at least smiled a bit when I tried to mimick Law's grumpiness in this post :D

[fleurywiththesave]

Hello! Mattdrai or Matthew/Sasha and sleep deprived please 💙

Ohhhh I love this one! You know I had to make it Mattdrai.

9. Sleep deprivation

Leon promised himself that he wasn't going to allow himself to look at any evidence of Cup celebrations. Nada, zip, zilch. No on-ice interviews, no celebratory photos, no coverage of the eventual parade. He swore, up and down, that he would have enough common sense not to torture himself.

But the thing is, as shitty as Leon feels right now...and make no mistake, he feels shitty. He and Connor cried on each other for what felt like hours, he still has no appetite, he's afraid to touch social media for fear that hearing everyone's disappointment and judgment will rip him apart all over. He is not having a good time and he would very much like never to be in this position again.

But he's still so. goddamn. proud. of Matthew. Of how hard he worked all season, of everything he does to bring his team together, of how incredibly happy he's made his family. And there's even a part of him, that he would never ever ever tell Connor about, that's even happier for Matthew than he would've been for himself. Seeing him get so close to the end last season, seeing him literally break his body doing everything he could to win and it still not being enough, hurt Leon almost as much as it hurt Matthew, and he's not sure that Matthew ever would have really recovered from suffering the same fate twice in a row.

So he lied. Sue him. He gets onto his stealth Instagram account, where he won't see any mention of his own failures, and watches from afar while Matthew and his teammates live it up at Eleven. That stupid WWE belt is going to be so gross by the end of all of this that Leon might have to burn it. Though Matthew's definitely going to want to frame it.

He's running through around the tenth cycle of wanting to smile and also kind of wanting to cry when his phone starts to vibrate and Matthew's name pops up. He accepts the call before he's had a chance to consider whether or not it's a good idea.

"Leo!" Matthew yells, as chipper as a children's TV host. Leon's amused in spite of himself.

"Are you drunk?"

"You'd think so," Matthew says agreeably, "but I mostly just haven't slept in two days."

"Yeah, I noticed," Leon answers.

"You've been watching?" Matthew's voice has gone considerably softer and he sounds genuinely surprised.

"I have," Leon tells him. Matthew sighs.

"Fuck, I miss you, baby."

"Matty—"

"I know, I know. But I already told you I'm kind of delirious and it's true, I fucking miss you, and I hate that me being so happy means that you have to be so miserable, and I just wish you were here with me, you know? And I know that's not fair, I know you should have your space and you needed to go back to Edmonton—"

"I didn't," Leon cuts in.

"You didn't what?"

"I didn't go back to Edmonton," he admits. "I'm still at the hotel in Florida."

There's a long pause.

"I can be home in half an hour," Matthew says, words tripping over each other. Leon's heart swells.

"I'll be there."

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Bittersweet Symphony: Chapter 2.

"You're so beautiful like this," You looked over at the man sitting at his desk, a small smile across his face, illuminated by the small lamp. "Like what? Sleep deprived, haven't showered in 3 days, living off energy drinks and spite?" You joked, shifting a bit self consciously on the leather couch. Rafael gave a small chuckle, "Like you. Looking at you like this, I don't think you've ever looked so beautiful,"

“You need to eat,”.

Carisi’s voice next to you brought you out of your self-induced misery. The cursor on the computer screen blinked a few times before you turned to face your partner. “I ate,” you argued, pulling out a packet of rice paper biscuits.

“You know, when my sister was pregnant, there was this little bakery a few blocks from her apartment that made these scones with ginger and chamomile. I’ll see if they still make them and bring them over some time.”

You smiled weakly at his thoughtfulness, but your stomach turned at the thought of food. “Thanks, Sonny, but I’m fine. Really. Me and food aren't really getting along at the moment.”

Carisi’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to eat,” he repeated gently. “It’s not just about you anymore.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. The stress from the ongoing case had been overwhelming, leaving you nauseous and exhausted. All you wanted was to go into the back room and sleep the rest of the day away. Just as you were about to respond, Carisi reached out and took the packet of rice paper biscuits from your hand, replacing them with a granola bar from his pocket.

“At least try this,” he urged. “It’s got nuts and dried fruit. Better than those biscuits. More nutritious for you and the baby.”

You took the granola bar, unwrapping it slowly. The sweet, nutty apricot smell was surprisingly appetizing. You took a tentative bite, and to your relief, it went down easier than expected.

“Better?” Carisi asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks, Sonny.”

He smiled, the worry lines on his face easing. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, just let me know. I'll bring some more of those over to you later on.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

He patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s take a five-minute break. We’ve been at this for hours, and you need to relax.”

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The two of you walked to the break room, where Carisi made a pot of herbal tea. As you sat together, sipping the warm tea, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“You’re a good friend, Sonny,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckled. “Just doing my job. Can’t have my partner running on empty, especially now.”

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the job; he genuinely cared about your well-being, you knew that all he wanted was what was best for you and the small being inside you. The past few weeks he had been the one constant in your life, from the moment you told Liv and the look of shock on her face "Is it-?", to Amanda giving you tips and offering you her daughters old baby clothes "I know you've only just gone into your second trimester but its better to be over prepared then under prepared trust me,".

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said, feeling a surge of gratitude.

“Anytime,” Carisi replied with a warm smile. “We’re in this together. I told you this. It's you, me, the fetus in there and even Barba if he ever gets his head out of his ass” There was a silence that fell between you, and you knew what was coming next, "Have you heard from him?" You paused mid chew,

the granola bar suddenly feeling like lead in your mouth. You took a slow sip of tea, trying to buy yourself a moment to compose your thoughts. “No, I haven’t,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carisi’s expression was a mix of concern and frustration. “It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, avoiding his gaze. The pain of Rafael’s absence was a constant ache in your chest. “I thought he’d come around by now, but… nothing.”

Carisi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know he’s got his reasons, but this isn’t fair to you. Or the baby. Have you asked Liv if she had heard from him?” You gave a small shrug, "Lets be real for a moment, if she had heard from him she would still leave it up to him to come to me. She wouldn't tell me,"

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I just don’t understand how he can be so distant. I thought we were in this together.”

“People react to things in different ways,” Carisi said gently. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for you.”

“I just wish he’d talk to me,” you murmured, feeling the familiar wave of sadness wash over you. “I don’t even know if he wants to be involved anymore. I feel like my whole life is on pause waiting for him. Whether it be waiting for him to call me, or to come back or something. I feel like I'm just stuck in this space and I can't even move on from him until I get some type of closure”

Carisi reached out, taking your hand in his. “Listen, no matter what happens with Rafael, you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got the squad. We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “But I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

<:>

Later that evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You picked up your phone, scrolling through old messages from Rafael, trying to make sense of his sudden withdrawal. Your heart ached with longing and confusion. Finally, you decided to call him, hoping to break the silence.

The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. You took a deep breath and left a message, your voice trembling. “Rafael, it’s me. I just… I need to know what’s going on. Please, call me back. We need to talk.”

You hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You had put yourself out there, and now all you could do was wait. As the minutes turned into hours, the weight of uncertainty settled heavily on your shoulders. <:>

The next morning, you arrived at the precinct feeling more exhausted than usual. Carisi noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. “Any news?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “No. Nothing.”

He sighed, pulling you into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. But remember, we’re here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

As the day wore on, you threw yourself into work, trying to keep your mind off the unanswered questions and unspoken words. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Rafael.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that you finally received a text. Your hands shook as you opened the message.

“Can we meet? - Rafael”

<:>

You couldn’t stop the constant twisting and turning of your stomach. Despite how hungry you felt- the rumbling in your stomach reminding you that you’ve barely eaten anything all day-you couldn’t help the small gag that came over you when the coffee was brought to your table.

God you felt so angry.

The white hot anger that twisted and turned in your stomach with every breath you took. You wanted to yell, you wanted to scream, you wanted to shake him and ask him why you weren’t good enough.

Why did he abandon you?

The silence between you and the man in front of you made your heart ache, conversation between you both used to flow so easily but now, now you couldn’t find a single word to say to him. You knew there was so much you wanted to say, to tell him. There was so many questions you wanted to ask him. So many Why’s you needed answers to, but nothing could come out of your dry lips.

“Is it mine?”.

The words left his mouth quietly, as if he was ashamed for asking. Your head shot up, meeting his brown eyes with your own, the question lingering in the air between you.

Is it mine?

Those words made you feel a hatred you hadn’t ever felt towards Rafael Barba. Not when you first met, not when you would be left red-faced after a lashing from the former ADA, not ever.

“What do you mean is it mine? Of course it’s yours. There isn’t anyone else I’d-“ you swallowed deeply, looking back into the brown liquid inside the cup before pushing it away from you, the smell making you want to regurgitate what little food Carisi managed to shove down your throat before you came.

“Where were you?” You heard your voice break, you wished that you had gotten a glass of water in before starting this conversation. The tears started welling up in your eyes, “I needed you and you weren’t there. Not just for this but for so much more. I woke up, and all you had left me was a note. No one had known where you had gone and I thought-“ You swallowed deeply and began picking at your nails, an anxious trait you had inherited from your grandmother, “I don’t even think it matters anymore. You made your choice,” You stopped picking your nails and looked up, seeing him look at you with an indescribable sadness across his face.

“Of course it matters. I hurt you and for that nothing I do can make up for it. After what happened I couldn’t put you through that. Could you have really been with someone who was labelled a baby killer?” He gave a sarcastic scoff, “I love you. I could never have asked you to give up your career to come with me. To run away with me,”

“But I would have,” You didn’t hesitate to interject, “If you would have asked me to resign and come live in the middle of nowhere with you then I would have,” Your voice rose slightly earning glares from the few patrons in the cafe, “But you took that choice from me thinking you were doing some noble shit. And now I’m pregnant, trying to make decisions that I can’t make by myself. I was alone, I was heartbroken and you weren’t there,”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t. But I’m here now, I’m here to support you whatever you choose to do,” He went to reach across the table for you but you moved away. The thought of the man you once loved touching you made your skin crawl, you saw who he was and it made you feel sick.

His hand moved back to his cup, “Are you keeping it?”

You let out a small sigh and nodded, “Yep. I don’t-I don’t think I could go through with it. I thought about it, especially since you made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with me, but this is what I’m doing. I'm just over 14 weeks now, so either way this is where we're at. Whether it be with you as co-parents or without you,”

“I was hoping we could talk about that?”

You raised a single eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think about you, or what you were doing. I never stopped loving you,”

“Yeah you did. You stopped loving me the day you walked out. I’m not doing this again. I let you in, it took us so long to get where we were. It took years for us to be together and you threw it away because of your ego and your assumptions. I won’t make the same mistake again,” You reached into your small black purse, ruffling around for some bills for the untouched decaf.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay,” Rafael stated simply.

You stood up, a bit unstable in your feet as vertigo hit; you paused for a moment before turning to face the man across from you, “The difference between you and me is that when I said I’d love you forever I meant it. You just don’t seem to get it, what you’ve done. You think that you can come back and walk into my life and nothing has changed. But Rafael everything has changed; everything has changed between us. Do you know what I think? I don’t think you came back here for me, I think you came back for something else. Otherwise where were you weeks ago when I called you?” For the first time since you've known him, there was no words which had left his mouth. No sarcasm or sass, no sincerity or words that could make your heart stop in your chest. There was just silence from him. A silence which made your heart break and your decision final. "Did Liv call you here?" You asked with an air of finality, your voice trembling but resolute. You needed to know, even if it shattered the last remnants of hope you clung to.

Rafael’s face contorted with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

“That’s what I thought,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. The reality of the situation washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow.

“Please, let me explain,” Rafael finally managed, his voice barely audible. “Liv did call me. She told me about your condition, how you were struggling. She thought I should know. But I came back because I needed to see you, to try and make things right.”

You shook your head, a bitter smile forming on your lips. “You had every opportunity to come back on your own. But it took Liv calling you to get you here. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

“I know I failed you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you from my mess, but all I did was hurt you more. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, the anger and hurt bubbling up again. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you the most. I can’t trust you, Rafael. Not anymore.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped tightly around his coffee cup. “I understand. I just… I want to be there for our child. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I appreciate that you want to be involved now, but it’s too late for us. I can’t go back to the way things were. But for the sake of our child, we can try to co-parent. We can try to make this work for them.”

Rafael nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

You stood up, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with sadness. “We’ll see. But for now, I need some space. I need to figure out how to move forward from this.”

He rose as well, looking at you with a mixture of regret and hope. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

You turned and walked away, leaving Rafael standing there in the café. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew you had the strength to face whatever came next.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I can imagine that for Something Wicked This Way Comes, Reader is hiding out in their neighborhood doing good deeds and scaring away or silencing bad people who wander into their territory, but with the fact that Logan amd the X-Teens eventually get a hand on one of their recordings, revealing that Reader knows about Logan's past, well...

It starts to get a bit more creepy/dark.

Because now the teens and Logan and the X-Men (and maybe the Brotherhood/Acolytes, if they're all working together)are trying to get their hands back on the box that Reader has, that contains things that no one alive should know about or remember, save for a select few... And it raises the question, how does Reader know about all of this? How old are they, exactly? Are they someone they uses to know?

This starts more attempts to get Reader to join them, be it by capturing them, winning them over, or trying to appeal to Reader's emotions...

The teens want to have a new friend/sibling/parent who is cool and fun and can teach them all sorts of things, and their choice is Reader. They want to impress them, but they're also aware Reader wants to remain away from their villainous plots and ideologies... Except they want to win then over, not push them away. Thus leads to increasing attempts, heists, destruction, and chaos, all to catch the attention of their favorite hero/anti-hero!

The adults are concerned if Reader could be a potential threat, but looking at them, there just isn't much to fear. They're tired, sleep-deprived, and run on coffee and spite. If they're lucky, Reader won't catch onto their grand scheme until it's too late to stop them. If not... well, that's what they have plans B and C for... They see potential in Reader, and wouod rather have them as an ally or friend, rather than an enemy, but Reader is defiant of them and keeps defending humans from them... Hmmm... They'll have to fix that, won't they?

Logan wants to get his hands on that box. It holds they key to everything, doesn't it? His past, who he used to be, his family- He could know, for the first time in decades, what happened. And it's back in the hands of Reader, someone so familiar yet distant, who couldn't possibly know about these things... Yet they do. And he has to know what they know.

Victor, when he gets word of this, goes to investigate... Amd is quite pleases to find that he starts to remember a little bit more each time he smells Reader's scent or hears their voice, or when he listens to the recording that his brother got his hands on. This only proves what he's been saying to his brother! This PROVES they are siblings, and that there IS something they're missing. If only his little runt would just accept that! All they need to do is get the rest if the evidence and answers from Reader, right? How hard can it be...

Reader is now having to show their true abilities and limits, surpising the growing platonic yanderes with just how... stubborn, they are. How resilient. That they just keep going, and persisting, and defying them, and still doesn't crumble under the pressure of what's at stake. It's... fascinating~... And another reason why Reader should join them, not resist them...

[safety-writes-noms]

Midnight Snack

Yay! We reached 200 followers so im just gonna put out a little short story for you guys as a thank you :D

This story has vore in it! It’s all sfw and nonsexual!!!! If you don’t like that, then just ignore this and click away.

Summary; Miguel hasn’t been taking care of himself lately so you decide to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die from exhaustion.

—

Now, you knew beforehand that Miguel is a man dedicated to his job, but this is unreasonable. 

“A week?” He avoids your probing gaze expertly as you frown at him from his desk. “That’s how long you haven’t slept? Do you know how bad that is??”

”I’m busy. I can’t sleep.” He responds with a little shrug, as if it isn’t that big of a deal. As if his skin isn’t worryingly pale and the shadows under his eyes stretch deep. If it weren’t for the fact that you had forced him to eat on a fixed schedule, you assume he would’ve also skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner regularly. While his determination is admirable, it’s seriously worrying to see him in this disheveled state. 

His hair is all mussed up and his eyes are blank, staring uncomprehendingly at the bright monitors covering the entirety of his desk. You scowl, crossing your arms as he steadily ignores you.

”Miguel! Come on, big guy, look at me,” You tap one of his hands and he tears his eyes away from the holographic report to stare at you. “This can’t be healthy. You gotta take a break, man.”

His brows furrow. 

“I can’t. I have to — I have to make sure everything’s fine. Everyone.” He shakes his head stubbornly and you can’t help but huff. He’s pausing, blinking slowly and dragging his eyes back open laboriously as he struggles to function normally, much less hold up a conversation. He’s probably only staying awake through sheer will and spite.

“You can do that after you’ve gotten a good rest, Miguel. You’re gonna end up collapsing or something.” If you could, you’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Maybe that’d get some sense into him. Unfortunately, since you’re about the size of his pinky, you settle for pushing at his hand. 

He barely pays you any mind, though he seems pretty out of it in general. He’s not listening. He’ll run himself to the ground, and while it’s not your job to care for him, you’re going to anyway since that’s what a good friend does. Plus it would kinda suck if the leader of the Spider Society died from sleep deprivation. 

“Lyla. Turn the computer screens off, but leave the lights dimmed at 20%,” You call and the glowing hologram flickers to life next to you. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” She salutes cheerfully and the bright orange interfaces go dark. Lyla promptly glances at Miguel and grimaces. “Oh. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, boss?”

Miguel musters up a vague frown, bracing himself heavily against the metal of his desk.

“Hey! I needed those. Turn them back on.” He bristles but the words are lukewarm. He has to be completely exhausted because he barely even fights back. Lyla clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

”Nuh uh, I don’t think so.” She wags a finger at him. He bares fangs, though he looks resigned. That’s a pretty good sign. Means he’s pretty close to giving up.

”I made you.”

”Actually, Xina did.” 

“Lyla — “

You clear your throat as loudly as you can and Miguel turns to look at you, irritated. 

“This is your fault,” He mutters sullenly, perfectly audible to your ears. Unrepentant, you grab at one of his fingers again and tug until he grudgingly flips his hand, showing his palm. You hop in easily, keeping steady as he carefully brings you up to his face so you can feel the full extent of his watery scowl. ”Are you happy with yourself?”

“I’ll be happy when you decide to go to sleep.” You bite back and he sighs loudly. 

“If I sleep for a couple of hours, will you get off my case?” He asks exhaustively and you nod your head grudgingly after a moment of contemplation. A couple of hours isn’t the best but you’ll negotiate with him later. 

Lyla claps her hands together happily. 

“Yay! This is great,” She turns to you and glitches up to you, holding her hand out. You take it and the two of you shake in mutual respect. Miguel just watches with a defeated sort of air. For a man who’s usually so stiff and stern, it’s only at the dead of night that he lets himself crumble. You find it somewhat touching that he trusts you enough to show his flaws, even though he pushes against your care most of the time. 

“You’ll both be the death of me,” He groans and Lyla sticks her tongue out at him. 

“I’m actually trying to keep you alive, thanks,” She snarks back before vanishing in a dizzying whirl of golden sparks. Her disembodied voice echoes from the ceiling. “Also, you’re locked out of the computer system for the rest of the night — unless it’s an emergency that needs your assistance. Have a good night, boss!”

Miguel’s head snaps up at her last words before he just sits down heavily in his creaky swivel chair. His head comes down with a loud thunk, the hand with you in it still held aloft. You wince. That couldn’t have felt good. 

You hop off easily, absorbing the impact with a roll as you poke at his cheek. 

“This is no place to take a nap,” You scold.  “Think of the back pain you’ll feel when you wake up tomorrow.” 

He makes a muffled noise of annoyance, but pulls himself up regardless. Miguel sets his hand down in front of you again, which you clamber into quickly. He raises it up to his shoulder, and you take residence there as he begins walking over to the cushy couch shoved in the corner of his rather massive office. The kids had smuggled it in somehow and it just never left. Now, it’s main purpose is for movie nights and the occasional nap or two. 

He slowly lugs his body onto the cushions with a quiet grunt, making sure that you don’t get knocked off with the motion. Even when he’s half asleep and tired out of his mind, he’s still unimaginably careful while handling you. While it’s appreciated now, it can be a bit stifling when out on the field. You just happen to come from a universe smaller than his, you’re not made of glass.

”Two hours. Then I’m going back to work.” He says, phasing away his suit to reveal rumpled but soft looking clothes underneath. It’s some sort of futuristic fashion with a high open collar and unimaginably soft fabric. 

“A whole night.”

”Three hours.”

”A whole entire night.” You insist stubbornly and he blinks.

”… Five hours.” 

“Miguel.”

He huffs, aiming a glare at you with little to no heat. 

“I can’t take that long of a break. I have things to fix and repair. And missions to coordinate.”

You raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“The other spiders can take care of that, Miguel. You have hundreds of incredibly smart people who are willing and eager to help. And Lyla can do that last one. She’s connected to everything.” Miguel still looks hesitant so you decide to sweeten the deal and play your trump card. “Look. I’m tired too, y’know? If you agree to sleep until morning, I’ll let you eat me.”

He’s silent for the count of five before he shifts slightly. 

“Right now?” He raises a brow at you and you nod. 

“Yup. I don’t really mind it, y’know. I think it’s comfy.” Miguel looks faintly confused but seems to be considering his choices. 

“… Fine. A whole night’s sleep.” He finally settles on, and you slip down from his shoulder to his chest, squinting through the darkness you know he can see clearly through. Miguel hesitates for a moment before gently grabbing you from between his thumb and forefinger, lifting you up to his head. 

You dangle from his hold, blinking as he apparently works things out in his head, sharp eyes examining you carefully despite the fact that he has gulped you down before with relative ease. 

“Alright. The watch will make sure you’re fine. Just call me or send me an alert through it and I’ll get you out. Got it?” He asks and you nod eagerly. 

He opens his maw wide and though you can’t really see in the dim light, you can see the yawning abyss of darkness in front of you, highlighted by sharp white teeth and fangs. His breath whooshes over you, making shivers wrack through your body despite the relative warmth of it. You reach up and tap one of the fingers holding you up, signaling that you’re ready and he makes a quiet hum of acknowledgement. 

Miguel inhales slowly and slowly lowers you into his mouth. The first sensation you get is wet. Saliva soaks into your suit and you slip a little, bracing a hand against the slippery soft flesh of his tongue. The second is temperature. Everything is moving around you, so wonderfully alive and warm. His tongue curves underneath you, the powerful muscle shifting so it can wrap around you loosely like an oversized blanket.

His mouth shuts with a quiet click of teeth and all of the faint light from outside is cut off, leaving you within the darkness of Miguel’s body. You go slack and still, letting him absentmindedly taste you, push you from one cheek to the other subconsciously. 

You feel him soak you in spit, not protesting or fighting back as he readies you for the journey below. Miguel is still gentle, careful. Nothing is too rough or hurts at all, even when his tongue tentatively presses you up against the hard palate of the roof of his mouth. After a long moment, he tilts his head back, just barely.

You slide toward his throat, squeezing down the tight fleshy tube accompanied by a couple of large gulps to help get you down entirely. The sound of his swallows is loud and for a moment it’s all you hear as you’re moved down. It’s not a bad pressure and you’re mostly used to it as you slip down from his esophagus and into his belly. 

And man, it’s so much warmer here and also so much more comfortable. The soft flesh here contracts slightly around your body as you find a comfortable position to lie in, tucking yourself against a wall with a yawn. You press a hand against the mass of warmth and squishiness under your fingers, blinking when it ripples across the entire expanse of his stomach. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Miguel clears his throat, his voice oddly loud and muffled at the same time.

”You okay? Need me to get you out?” He asks, and you make a lazy hum in response.

“No, I’m fine, man,” You sink deeper into the comforting warmth and you hear something like a quiet chuckle from above. It’s good to hear him sound relaxed for once. God knows he needs some relaxation anyway. 

“Okay,” he sounds tired and everything is still before your surroundings shift and you tumble somewhat quickly into the side wall of his stomach. He must’ve turned over on his side. ”… Thank you. You care too much about me.”

You frown, picking up on his meaning quickly.

”Well yeah, you’re my friend. Besides, if I was working myself to death, you would’ve done the same, right?” You say and he huffs, laying a palm over his stomach. You can feel it in the way the slimy-squishy walls indent around you. 

“It’s not the same.”

”How so?”

”It just isn’t.” Miguel says firmly and you roll your eyes.

”Agree to disagree. Also, go to sleep! I have no idea how you’ve stayed awake this long. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” You promise, pressing your hand against the closest “wall”. He makes a quiet noise, but it’s quickly drowned out by the familiar sound of rumbling vibrating through his entire body. The volume of his contented purrs are quiet enough that a person outside would have to strain their ears to hear it.

From where you are right now, the comforting noise is steady and somewhat loud. It’s not overwhelming though — it just blends into the other sounds of his stomach growling and his other organs working somewhere else in his body. You stretch and settle down with a quiet yawn. 

Then everything shifts around you, contracting and moving to cradle you securely in complete warmth and comfort. 

“Goodnight.” Miguel’s low voice echoes from above and you close your eyes. 

“G’night.”

You fall asleep that way and he quickly follows, a hand settled carefully over his stomach and fully content.