#so the person is still ''hidden'' in a sense

[paperclip-skz]

The Secret Nap Room

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, TENSION, straight up delulu, grinding, oral (fem receiving), I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 2.9k

****

“Well…” he paused, searching for the right words, “I’m just worried that these late nights are starting to take a toll on you.”

You looked up at him, your brow slightly furrowed in thought. “Chan, it’s okay. Honestly, I could say the exact same thing about you,” You replied, your voice steady yet tinged with concern.

He scratched the back of his head, a habit he had when he felt uneasy. “Still,” he murmured, glancing away as if the weight of his words was too much to bear.

You sighed, recognizing his persistent worry. “Fine, fine. The next time you think I should head home,” You said, rolling your eyes playfully, “I promise I’ll listen.”

*********

You yawed for the nth time today, the late night really taking its toll. “That’s it; you're going home,” Chan barged into your office. 

“But-“ you protested, but he was already shutting your laptop and spinning your chair. 

“No buts. Home,” he insists. 

“Just this one last thing. “You attempt to turn your chair, but he’s already had enough. 

He sighs, “If you want things done, ya gotta do it yourself.” 

Suddenly, you feel the air under your feet, and Chan’s arms swing you over his shoulder. “CHAN!” your arms thrash over his back. “Put me down now or else!” but your threats are coated with laughter, having no effect on him. 

You realize that thrashing won't help anymore, so you allow Chan to carry you wherever he takes you. Eventually, he sets you on your feet and turns you around to face a door.

It's the room. His secret room.

The secret nap room. 

When he noticed how many late nights he was logging into the studio, he transformed this room into a personal sanctuary. Now, it is his secret lair, a hidden retreat filled with food, comfy chairs, and even a bed. He ensured everyone knew NOT to enter his secret room, and he kept that up… until now.

When you don’t take the hit to walk in, Chan reaches over your shoulder to open the door for you. 

It's so…cozy, you think. To say the least, it wasn’t what you were expecting. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, creating a sense of immediate comfort. Plush pillows in a delightful mix of colors—rich reds, deep blues, and sunny yellows—are scattered across the floor and piled high against the headboard of the already pulled-out bed, which is draped with a soft, inviting comforter that promises restful nights.

Directly opposite the bed, a sleek, flat-screen television is mounted on the wall, its surface glinting softly in the light. In the far corner, a charming wooden shelf stands stacked with an eclectic assortment of books and notebooks, their spines varying in color and texture. Some are well-loved, their pages dog-eared from repeated readings, while others are fresh. 

You diligently walk into the room, your eyes searching every little object that decorates the room. You are so distracted by all the little things around every corner that you don’t think you will find Chan walking beside you, folding back the comforter. “Wha-”

“Get in,” he insists. 

A chuckle leaves your lips. " You must really like me,” your hands beckon to the room. “I mean, first you're worried about me, then you take me to YOUR secret nap room, now you're making sure I’m tucked in? What's next? You're gonna kiss me goodnight,” You throw out a lighthearted joke, expecting to see Chan’s face scrunch up in that familiar way, but instead, he remains stone-faced. There’s an intensity in his gaze as if he is bracing himself for something. It feels as if he’s not just listening; he’s determined. 

His head nods to the bed again, and all you can do is sigh. “I’m not getting into bed; I’m not getting into YOUR bed.” you emphasize each “your,” you say because it is HIS bed, this is HIS safe space, and your HIS manager. You should be worried about him, not the other way around. 

“Are you really gonna make me carry you again?” he sighs, and that's when you notice his stance. He stands like he stands for Stay, his shoulder stretched broad to show off his defined chest. His legs are slightly spread, giving that dominating look he loves so much. His tongue pokes out his cheek, a habit that both you and Stay have come to love. 

He makes you swallow thickly. All of a sudden, your clothes become like fire to your skin. You don’t even notice when you lick your lips until Chan catches you, “Unless you want more than just a kiss goodnight,” his voice grows two actives lower. 

Your eyes snap to his “I- I’m sor- I wasn’t.” 

“It's okay. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I couldn't take a few people staring at me.” 

“Ha! Yea,” you laugh lightheadedly.

“But! Back to the task at hand,” he pauses, stepping closer to you. “What will it take to get you into bed?” he asks. 

“You should hear yourself,” you laugh. 

“Oh, I’m listening,” he saunters even closer. Your breath hitches again. You take a better look into his eyes. How dark they are, and how many secrets could be hidden inside them. “I’m hearing every word. So I’ll ask again, what will it take to get you into my bed?” 

This is wrong. Your head is screaming at you that you shouldn’t be here, that you shouldn’t be entertaining this idea. But your bodies are like magnets being pulled together. 

He’s too close now, close enough where you can feel the heat of his breath against you. All it would take is for his head to lean down slightly, and then your lips would connect with his.

As if he can sense your every thought, he draws closer, his playful demeanor captivating you. He tilts his head slightly, the movement subtle yet charged with intention, making it impossible for you to look away. You find yourself mirroring his actions, the world around you fading into the background. Your lips draw nearer, pulled together by an invisible force, like magnets yearning to connect, only for him to pull away before you can get a taste. 

You hear a low laugh admit from his chest, it makes you bite your lip. “Get into bed princess” 

You know what he wants to hear. You know he wants you to compile with a pretty smile on your face, but thats not how you play. “Only if you join me, Christopher.” 

He shivers at the mention of his full name, and a big cheesy smile appears on his face. Before you could protest or even react, he pulled you by the waist and fell onto the bed, setting to to lay under him. He comes so close to you, and the anticipation you can feel between your legs is almost painful, so when Chan is finally on top of you, silently begging for permission with his eyes to kiss you, you take full control and capture your lips with his. 

Your lips find a hidden rhythm with each other, dancing to an unforgettable song. His hands explore your curves, pulling at the fabric that separates you two. Soft moans and gentle sighs slip from your lips as you relax into his touch; you’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefully taken care of; it makes your insides melt. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess. Will you let me? Let me make you feel good.” he traces kisses from the corner of your mouth to the spot behind your ear. Words are trapped on the tip of your tongue; the only sounds escaping are moans of approval and the subtle motion of your hips attempting to grind against his. 

He growls into your ear, making your teeth sink into your lip. “Keep your hands above your head,” he instructs, his voice becoming demanding yet cautious. If you don’t, there will be consequences.” He presses his forehead to yours as his hands guide your arms above your head. 

The anticipation is killing you, and your slik is making it impossible for you to concentrate. You try your hardest to keep your arms above your head, but it is a lot harder than it seems when he trails kisses against your clothed skin all the way down to the button of your pants. He unbuttons your pants, keeping eye contact with you. He searches for any signs to stop, but you just bite your lip while maintaining eye contact with him. He peels the fabric from your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. Now it's his time to gawk and bite his lip at you, he stares at your panties and at the small wet spot thats gathered there. “Fuck” he breathes. He looks at you one last time for confirmation, and when you nod he rips the fabric off of you, huffing out an “I’ll buy you a new pair” and attaching his mouth to your cunt. 

You scream his name and grab a fistful of his hair holding him close to your clit, your back arches into a perfect C as he attacks your clit with an unforgiving force, but you whine when his lips are removed, “keep your hands above your head princess” he hisses. 

You groan, but you can’t deny the zing that rushes through your body. You’ve never been bossed around in bed, you’ve never had the opportunity to be submissive to someone so eager to be in control. 

Hesitantly you bring your arms back above your head, and Chan resumes his position, attaching his lips to your clit. Your shattered moans are muffled when you scream into the comforter, your teeth sink into the blankets, and your arms pull at the covers; you’ve never experienced so much pleasure, so much attention drawn to your clit, it makes your head spin. 

His tongue swirled expiry around your clit, sucking and tugging with his teeth. You can feel the knot expanding in your lower belly. You know you're about to break. “Yes yes yes” you chant, spurring him on.

He plunges his tongue past your walls, and your hands instinctively come down to curl into his locks, he growls into your pussy which sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He teases a finger against your opening only slipping the tip in, your hips grinding against his face, begging for the intrusion. 

Your orgasm is so close, all the teasing, his expert tongue, and now his mocking finger, you’re so close, but before your body can tumble over, he removes his lips and finger to watch your body crumble at the stolen orgasm. 

“Nooo” you whine pathetically, but Chan is quick to press his body down onto you, kissing your exposed neck.

His hands diligently sneak under your shirt, squeezing the flesh, “told you there’d be consequences,” he rumbles. 

Your chest heaves with heavy breath, and your eyes threaten to shut, “please” You beg.

“Mmm” he hums, you can feel the smile against your skin, his hands still climbing their way to your breasts. “I like it when you beg” 

“Please,” you strain, curling your fingers into his hair once again. 

He nods his head against your neck before sucking on the skin, creating a pretty red spot you not gonna be able to cover up in the morning. 

He lifts his head. His hands rake your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in only your bra. He stares at you for a moment before taking his hands and squeezing your breasts over your bra. It's like his hands are his claim to you, like he has to touch every bit of you so he can fully claim you as his. 

You take it upon yourself to stretch your arms above your head so your whole body is fully displayed for him in the best way possible. He leans back, eyes your body, he sits back on top of you, his thighs trapping you below him, “Fucking Christ,” he whispers under his breath. 

“Your turn, hot shot.” You eye his plain black T-shirt sticking to his body. 

He chuckles and pokes his cheek with his tongue, as he always does, before lifting his shirt over his head. Your eyes widen at how defined his chest is. You knew he was fit, and you saw the edits Stay made, but the fact that his abs were mere inches from your eyes was a completely different story. 

You lift your hand to trace a single finger down the middle of his abs. His whole body tenses under your touch, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. You bite your lip at the sight of him. 

“Turn over for me, baby” he says through gritted teeth. 

You twist your body around so your face is pressed against the blankets. Chan’s hands lift your hips up so your ass are in his hands. You feel one of his pillows being shoved under you, so you're more comfortable. 

You can feel his erection pressed against your ass, the rugged fabric of his pants making every movement he makes more exhilarating. You close your eyes as you feel his chest press against your back so he can whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to look me in the eyes for a week without blushing.”

A small whimper escapes you. “Please,” you beg. 

“Please, what, baby? Use your words,” he whispers again, his hands messaging the flesh of your hips. 

“Please fuck me,” you call in a breath. 

You can feel his chest vibrate with a chuckle. “Where are your manners baby girl” 

You whine, “please.” 

“Please fuck me what” he coats your ear, and your chest fills with need. You don’t care how desperate you sound or how pathetic of a position he has you in, he is in complete control and he knows it. He has your pleasure in the palm of his hands, and you couldn’t be more turned on. 

“Please fuck me, Christopher,” you finally moan out. 

“Good girl,” he kisses your shoulder before lifting himself off of your back. You hear some slight shuffling and then the pressure of his member lining himself up at your entrance. 

You press your forehead into the mattress, preparing for the stretch. The feeling of his thick tip alone sends both a thrill and a slight panic through your body. 

He slips the tip barely past your walls, and your eyes squeeze tight, “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” Chan's words guide you as he pushes the rest of the way past your lips. 

Once you finally feel him bottom out inside you, he stills, letting you adjust to the sheer length of him. His ministration from earlier left you so wet it made it so easy for him to slip in, but the stretch left you gasping for breath. 

You can’t see the way his face contorts into pleasure, the way his nose scrunches up at the way you're clenching around him or the way his skin shines with a sheer coat of sweat. But you can feel the way his dick twitches inside you, wanting so desperately to plunge into you. 

Instinctively, you push yourself harder against him, wanting him more. He can tell you're desperate; you can tell by the way his breath catches in his throat at your action.

“Fuck” He says with a shaky breath, his hisp start to slowly thrust, dragging against your walls deliciously. 

You moan out as you try to match his thrusts, but he quick to grab hold of you restricting your movements. “Your gonna take what I give you like a good fucking girl” he ruts out. 

The next thing you know the only sounds that fill the room are your screams and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

****

You wake up, legs throbbing, pussy throbbing, throat dry as the desert, and hot. Oh my god, why am I so hot? You glance to your side, drawn in by the comforting warmth. There, nestled peacefully, is Chan, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath. His eyelids flutter softly, betraying the delightful dreams dancing behind them, while a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his slightly parted lips. 

In this moment, the reasons for your earlier wakefulness and the discomfort that had stirred you from sleep fade away like wisps of fog in the morning light. Instead, you feel an overwhelming urge to draw closer to him, to wrap yourself in his warmth and forget about the worries of the outside world. You snuggle up against him, relishing the softness of the blankets and the steady rhythm of his breathing, finding solace in his presence as you drift back into a peaceful slumber.

He was spot on about what he whispered in the dim light of the bedroom, a truth that resonated with you not just in that fleeting week but stretching into the weeks that followed your intimate encounter. Each time you caught sight of Chan across the bustling office, a wave of warmth washed over you, flushing your cheeks with a deep crimson hue. It was as if the memory of your shared moment lingered in the air, a secret connection that electrified even the briefest of glances. Now, whenever Chan senses even a hint of restlessness or fatigue in you, a possessiveness takes control of him, knowing precisely how to bring you back to that comforting place where you both belong.

[shenachigans]

THE KEY TO HER HEART | Cassandra Kiramman

PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader

CW: angst with a hopeful ending?, spoilers for season 2 act I, canon divergence, in Caitlyn’s pov, no dialogues (except one), mentions of death, mentions of reader being married to a man and having children with said man, mentions of pregnancy, mentions and implications of being in the hospital deathbed, tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, they kept their love for each other hidden until the end, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra and Caitlyn

SUMMARY: Caitlyn receives the Kiramman Key to unlock knowledge privy to the Kiramman matriarchs. She also unlocks a memoir of her mother’s past, specifically with the person she loved the most through old photographs and unsent letters.

A/N: I realized a lot of my published work is composed of the “letter narrative” as I call it and this one has a bunch. It’s similar to my first Cassandra fanfic, the only difference is there’s death and grief involved. I have yet to finish the season, but her funeral and the memorial were hard to watch. I miss her so much. 

WORDS: 2,668

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

When her father handed her the Kiramman Key her mother wanted her to have, Caitlyn knew she was truly gone. She was now the leader of House Kiramman too soon, without the guidance of her mother, Cassandra. It was a position she deemed unworthy of, but her mother reassured her of the merit of her birthright. Only when she thought her relationship with her mother would progress, the world decided to strip that opportunity from her. 

Filled with grief, loss, and vengeance, especially after the attack at the memorial, Caitlyn decided to view what her mother had in store for her. First, it was the presentation of the ducts, the toxic air in the fissures contained by her mother’s instructions, allowing the people of The Undercity to breathe. She could use the passageways of the ventilation system and the Grey to locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco. Second, was a drawer of letters and photographs in a compartment at the bottom of the desk. It had nothing to do with the Kiramman Clan, but something to do with her mother’s personal life when she was younger.

The drawer seemed to be a memoir, maybe something left to be forgotten as dust covered its contents. Everything was held together with twine, completed with a battered tag, showing how the letters and photographs were — possibly older than Caitlyn herself. She gently grabbed the bundle of memories in her hands, flipping the tag over to see what was written, the ink smudged by droplets. It wrote: My old love, in Cassandra’s handwriting. Her mother had a lover? 

Caitlyn swore her breath hitched when she untangled the twine to reveal the secrets Cassandra carried. She wanted to see who her mother loved so much, that she had a collection of their time together, but she wasn’t expecting several photographs of you to appear. After all, you were her mother’s childhood friend, her closest companion and confidant. 

It was clear in Caitlyn’s eyes that you two had a platonic relationship. Did she read it wrong? She saw you as an aunt, a second mother beside Cassandra; she never realized that her mother loved you romantically. This doesn’t make sense. You had a husband and children of your own, just like her mother. You and Cassandra would get together and gossip about your spouses and children. She had proof, she had accompanied you two when she was a little girl on several occasions. What did Caitlyn miss? What was kept hidden?

Did her mother love you more than her own husband? What about you? Did you love Cassandra too? Caitlyn flickered through the photographs, putting the letters aside for later, it was clear her mother was devoted to you. She never imagined her mother would ever use a camera to capture your beauty throughout your shared life. It felt uncharacteristic of her to do so, to have her mother be deeply in love with someone other than her father. 

Now that she thought about it. It seemed like Cassandra changed when you passed away. Gone was the warmth she wore on her sleeves as she became distant and even more stubborn, pretentious, and selfish, perfecting her façade as a politician. She now realized how her mother tried to tone down her grief during your burial, to appear as if she only lost a good friend. Caitlyn was too entangled in her own emotions of also losing you to realize how deeply your sudden death affected her mother. She was still too young to comprehend how you died, Cassandra never told her. It was too painful to recount.

Maybe all this time, Cassandra was still grieving your loss till the day she died, having failed to protect you and prevent your death, so much so that her efforts were transferred onto Caitlyn so she could avoid the same fate. She started to understand her mother’s actions a little more, not that she condoned them after the seclusion and restriction she felt all her life. Her mother meant well, even if it hurt. Cassandra didn’t want to lose Caitlyn as she lost you.

After observing each photograph, soon came the letters. Caitlyn skimmed from the oldest letter at the bottom pile to the newer ones at the top. These words were never meant to see the light of day, never meant for someone else to see, especially not you or an outsider like Caitlyn. She can’t believe how raw the emotions she felt from her mother’s words. Caitlyn cannot do justice to her mother’s letters by explaining their contents. You simply had to read them to feel Cassandra’s love for you, but you were gone, unaware that your dearest friend saw you as her whole world even if she could not display her heart at her sleeves due to the societal expectations in the past.

Caitlyn saw smears of ink in many places, making it hard for her to comprehend the smudged words, but she knew her mother cried writing and possibly reading them. These letters were a diary, a collection of paper with words akin to a symphony of her love for you. Caitlyn wondered if you were aware of Cassandra’s feelings and simply did not comment on it, or if you and her mother shared the same situation, loving each other in the shadows as your respective families were in the spotlight of attention.

Was writing letters something Cassandra did in her free time? Because there were so many, it would take Caitlyn some time to skim through all of them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but maybe her mother wanted someone to know her feelings unless this parcel was supposed to be discarded before Caitlyn took over as the Kiramman Clan Matriarch. Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but go through it, you meant a lot to her too, and she felt the connection between you two that had faded since your death years ago. The world had taken you and her mother too early, Caitlyn only had her father left, hoping his grief for Cassandra wouldn’t make his life wither and leave her too. 

The letters started with Cassandra realizing she loved you; appreciating your beauty from inside and out. She expressed in detail the moment she knew she was in love, from how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as your hair blew in the wind, the purple petals from the grand ivory-barked tree swayed with you. Caitlyn recognized it was the sacred place she and her mother shared near the fountain on the outskirts of the city, a place where they never argued and remembered your presence together.

“...We went to the place you enjoyed the most, Y/n. I came to share your love for this park because you were always there with me. I never thought you would take my breath away like you had today. You were beautiful, you have always been. 

Today felt different, however. The sight before me was something that came out of books. The wind picked up and your hair danced with the purple petals that floated around you. Your smile directed at me made it seem like I was in a fairytale my mother used to tell me as a child. It was a sight to behold, and I knew then and there, that I had fallen in love with you...”

The following letters were short, but filled with admiration and love. Cassandra appreciated you in many ways Caitlyn never knew in each letter, expressing her appreciation for everything you did, your character, appearance, and how you treated her. Her mother was so youthful, so happy whenever she was with you. It broke Caitlyn’s heart when the letters started to take on another tone; one of loss and hopelessness.

“...Why must society be this way, my love? Why am I prohibited from loving you the way you deserve? I am shackled by these expectations placed upon me, and I’m ashamed that I have to hide in the dark to be able to express my love. I’m a coward for not throwing everything away so I could love you publicly. I wish to have you by my side, to call you my lover, my beloved wife, without the consequences of society. I was overjoyed when I realized you loved me too, but it pained me that you were also hiding your love. You were as careful as I was with concealing how we felt for each other. Do you know that I love you too? I wish for you to know, but I’m scared of putting you in danger.

I wouldn’t know of your feelings if not for the day my parents announced my engagement. You had shown a crack of your true self from your poised façade. It pained me to see the sullen expression on your face. You tried to hide your turmoil, but I knew the news broke you as much as it did me. I wanted to cup your face and hold you in my embrace, to feel your warmth against mine as I whispered words of love, saying that we would still have each other as our duties befall us. 

I wanted to kiss your troubles away, but I did not let myself get carried away with such intimacy. Any hint of something more as friendship in anyone’s eyes would lead to forced separation… I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry, Y/n, but I need to build distance between us to avoid suspicion. Please forgive me… I despise myself for being powerless to protect you from the pain I would cause you…”

Caitlyn read the following letters, Cassandra expressed her guilt for keeping you at arm's length when all she wanted was to have all of you, to be with you the way you both wanted, but such a thing never happened when the two of you started your own families. She apologized in many letters as she realized how you started to pull away from her. Caitlyn tried her best to decipher the smudged words that filled the loose paper. Her mother didn’t want this, didn’t want to pretend she felt nothing for you other than a platonic friendship, that she didn’t love you. It was cruel. 

There was a large time gap between the letters. Caitlyn decided that her mother tried to focus on her duties as the Kiramman Matriarch and her relationship with Tobias by severing her attachments to the letters. Cassandra must’ve been carrying Caitlyn somewhere during this time, not wanting the memory of your relationship with her to cause stress and emotional turmoil during her months of pregnancy. 

The letter that followed was something close to reconciliation even if the distance was still there. You and Cassandra must’ve accepted the fate of your separated lives and decided to continue what was remaining of your friendship. Caitlyn was surprised she was the catalyst of this event. 

“...I was nervous about meeting you again after months of no contact, Y/n. I didn’t know what to expect after you distanced yourself from me. I still remember the pained expression on your face when I told you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I never hated myself so much for being the cause of your pain. I have never done anything but hurt you. So, I was in disbelief when you easily agreed to the invitation I sent out of the blue to meet Caitlyn. 

You must’ve laughed at my audacity for wanting you back after pushing you out of my life, that you only agreed to this because your kind husband convinced you so. I hate to say I’m relieved you have wedded a respectful man. I know you are safe in his hands when I can’t be there to do the same. 

I was faced with an impassive demeanor when you arrived at the Kiramman residence, and I didn’t know if our friendship could be salvaged, but when you held Caitlyn, I saw a glimmer of love shine in your eyes. The smile that broke from your façade when you cradled my daughter with so much care made my heart swell at the sight. Then you met my gaze, and it felt like that day in the park all over again. I knew I was still in love with you, and you felt the same, even as our love dwelled in pain and loss because of the world we live in…”

The last letter on the pile was tattered compared to the other ones. It was difficult to understand because of the ink smudges, shaky handwriting, and teardrops… Caitlyn knew what this letter was about and could see how her mother struggled to write this one. The unshakeable grief that filled this page hurt Caitlyn. This must’ve been the fork Cassandra faced when she decided that writing more letters would only cause her more pain than solace as she thought about you.

“...I failed you, my love. I failed to protect you from your curiosity and compassion for The Undercity. The world was too cruel to take you from me, our relationship had only begun to blossom its fruits. The time we spent rebuilding what was lost… How could I sleep at night, knowing I could’ve prevented your death? I will never be able to live with the guilt of hurting you even until your last breath. 

I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve been more open-minded about creating the ventilation system for people of the fissures. Was this the world’s response to my selfishness, to take you away from me? I feel so empty without you, the grief is tearing away at me. I couldn’t bear hearing Caitlyn’s cries when I told her you would no longer be with us to spoil her, to love her like your own. 

Everything that happened to you is all my fault. No amount of apologies would bring you back, but I am so sorry, Y/n. The Grey I could’ve contained with my influence and resources ate at your life, poisoned your lungs, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

It tore at my heart to see you fighting for your life, hooked to machines, but everything was a lost cause when the grip of your hand on mine loosened and lay limp between my own. Your eyes became distant and empty as the light in them faded, but you still held the smile I fell in love with, muttering the words I longed to hear for decades: ‘I love you, Cassandra.’ I couldn’t respond in time, I failed to say that I love you too… because you were already gone… 

I promise I will let the people of The Undercity breathe, just as you had wished, my love…”

Caitlyn now understood why her mother completed the project. She did it for you. It was a grand and equally dangerous project that took many lives and resources to complete, and here Caitlyn was, planning to unleash the gas that killed you to look for a criminal who killed her mother and many others. 

After reading the letters, Caitlyn wondered several things. Would her mother be happy again, now that she has reunited with you in the afterlife? Would she be able to express her love after hiding her true feelings for you for so long? Caitlyn hopes she can because she knows how much her mother was alive when you were around, even in moments of joy and sadness. She wanted her mother to be happy again despite the pain in her heart that she was no longer there with her and her father.

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

“I finally got to see you again, my love… Oh, how I missed you so… My life was never the same when you left… I can’t believe you’re back in my life… and in my arms… I love you too, Y/n… I love you so, so much, dearest.”

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[shywithapurpose]

Knight!Nanami x Royal!Reader

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft twilight that bathed the courtyard in hues of purple and amber. The sounds of the court were far off now, muffled by the thick stone walls of the castle. You sat by the window, looking out at the distant hills. The weight of the crown you would one day inherit was a burden you often thought about, and on evenings like this, when the air was still and the world felt almost too peaceful, it pressed down on you. You hadn’t always felt this way. When you were younger, you’d found the idea of being a ruler exhilarating—everything within your reach, everyone around you bowing their heads. But now? Now, all of that seemed like a game, a stage you were expected to play upon, your true self hidden behind the mask of royal duty.

A knock on the door breaks you from your thoughts, and you turn just in time to see it swing open, revealing a familiar figure. Nanami. Your personal guard. He stands in the doorway, his silhouette tall and imposing, framed by the dimming light from the hallway. His armor gleams faintly, though not as polished as the knights. His face, though always hard and unreadable to others, softens slightly when he sees you. Nanami’s hazel eyes flicker with something unreadable before he dips his head in a respectful bow.

“Your Highness,” he says, voice low. “It’s late. I thought you may wish to retire.”

You hesitate, looking back out the window. There was something in his presence, something different tonight. You were used to his quiet watchfulness, but tonight, his posture seems to have a tension to it, a stillness that’s almost… uncertain.

"I am not tired," you answer softly, though you know it’s a lie. Tiredness has become something of a companion, creeping up on you in moments when your guard is down. "But I could use a bit of company."

Nanami steps into the room fully now, his footsteps barely a sound on the stone floor. He moves closer, but he doesn't sit or approach you directly. Instead, he takes up his usual position near the door, always within arm’s reach but never crossing that invisible line. His presence, though unobtrusive, fills the room.

"Is there something troubling you, Your Highness?" His voice is neutral, professional, but there’s a gentleness to it. He’s been your protector for as long as you can remember, always vigilant, always silent. And yet, tonight, you sense a shift.

You look up at him, your gaze lingering. Nanami is taller than most men, with broad shoulders and the sort of quiet strength that makes him formidable in combat. He has a way of looking at you, not with reverence, not with pity, but with something more like understanding. It's a look he gives to no one else.

"I don't know," you admit, biting the inside of your cheek. "Sometimes I feel so trapped here." You gesture vaguely to the castle. "Like I'm meant to be something I don't know how to become."

He says nothing at first, and you don’t expect him to. His silence is often more telling than any words could be. Still, you can feel his gaze on you, though you don’t meet it. A moment passes, and then he speaks, his tone as steady as ever. “I’ve seen you grow, Your Highness. More than that, I’ve seen the weight of your crown. You do not carry it alone. You have advisors, your family, your people." His words hang in the air, each one wrapped in the unspoken promise that he is one of those who stands by you. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, fingers tracing the edge of it idly, but there’s an odd tension in the movement, as if he’s considering something.

"I don’t need them," you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I need…" You trail off, suddenly unsure. There’s a word sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to say it. You glance up at Nanami again, your pulse quickening for reasons you can't quite explain. He’s looking at you, not in his usual guarded manner, but with something softer. Something fleeting and almost imperceptible, yet undeniable. He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "You need to rest, Your Highness." It’s an excuse, you know it is. A shield, like the armor he wears. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Not tonight. Not when you’re so close to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body, close enough to catch the faint scent of leather and steel that clings to him after a day of training.

“You’ve been at my side for so long, Kento,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now. "Do you ever wish for something more?"

There it is—the question you’ve kept buried. The one you’ve never dared ask anyone, not even yourself. You’re not sure what answer you’re hoping for, but you want to hear it, even if it means exposing a part of yourself you’ve never shown. Nanami goes still, and for the first time, he doesn’t answer right away. His brow furrows, and his lips press together, as if he’s weighing every word carefully.

"More, Your Highness?" His voice is rougher now, like he’s searching for the right way to phrase it. “I have always been where I am meant to be. At your side. Protecting you.” You swallow hard, feeling the intensity of the moment settle between you like a storm that’s just begun to stir. “And what if that’s not enough for you? What if you—” You cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how foolish you might sound. But Nanami doesn't move, doesn't step back. Instead, his eyes soften just the slightest bit, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate. The tension in the air thickens, crackling, and the world outside the window seems to disappear.

And in that fleeting instant, you realize the truth.

This guard, this man who has stood at your side, so constant, so steadfast, is everything you never knew you needed. And yet, the chasm between you seems too wide, too impossible to cross. Yet, Nanami steps closer, his hand finally leaving the sword hilt, his fingers brushing against yours. Just a touch, barely a whisper of contact, but it’s enough to set your pulse racing.

"Your Highness," he says again, and his voice is softer now, quieter. There’s something in it, something that makes your chest tighten, a wordless promise, or maybe just a question. “I…” You don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re caught in your throat, unwilling to leave, and yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question anyway, the one that’s been eating at you ever since he first stepped into the room. “Could you… could you ever want more than this? More than just… this duty?”

His gaze flickers briefly, like the faintest shadow crossing his face before he returns to you with that same unreadable expression. But there’s something in his eyes now. Something deeper. Something raw. “I’ve never wanted anything more than my duty to you, Your Highness,” he answers, his voice steady, though there’s a weight in it now that wasn’t there earlier. “But that does not mean I do not understand the need for something else. For… more.”

Your pulse skips. For a fleeting moment, it feels like the ground beneath you is shifting. His words echo in your mind, and you wonder if he knows—if he feels the same pull you do. You reach out, a motion so instinctive that it surprises you. Your fingers brush his, the skin of your hand warm against the coolness of his skin, and your breath catches in your throat. The quiet intimacy of it stuns you both, and for a second, neither of you speaks. But Nanami’s hand, still hovering near yours, moves slightly. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he shifts just enough that your fingers interlace. His touch is careful, almost reverent.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely more than a murmur. “This is not a path we can take lightly, Your Highness. There are things… things that would change. Things you might not be ready for.”

The words strike you like a blow, but they’re not an argument, they’re a warning. A plea for you to understand the gravity of what you’re considering. You know better than anyone the cost of such a decision, the consequences that would follow if word of this ever reached the wrong ears. But at this moment, standing on the edge of something so fragile and uncertain, you don’t care. You can’t care. The weight of the crown, the expectations that have always been placed upon you—they all seem so far away now, like distant echoes in the wind. In the face of this… of him, you wonder if it’s even worth it. For the first time in what feels like years, the world seems to pause. The burden of your royal blood, your obligations to family, kingdom, and title—fade into the background, replaced by something simpler, more immediate.

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” you laugh. “But I know… I know I can’t keep living this way. Not when I feel like I’m suffocating under everything that’s expected of me. Not when you’re standing right here, and I…” You swallow hard, the weight of your own words settling in. It’s hard to admit, harder still to speak the truth out loud, but you can’t ignore it any longer. You can’t pretend that this, whatever this is between you, doesn’t matter. His fingers tighten around yours, a silent affirmation that he’s listening, that he’s here. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief, dizzying moment, you swear you can see something deeper there—a flicker of longing, of understanding.

“I’m not asking for you to throw away your duty, Nanami,” you say, the words coming out softer now, more vulnerable. “But I don’t want to be trapped in this castle, in this life, forever. I can’t do it alone. And I don’t want to. Not if you’re willing to stand with me.” A beat of silence passes, stretching between you like a delicate thread. And then, Nanami speaks, his voice low and almost intimate. “I’ve always stood with you, Your Highness. I always will.”

You could almost mistake his words for a simple pledge. But there’s something in his tone, something in the way he says always, that makes your heart race, makes the air in the room feel thick and heavy with possibility. Slowly, hesitantly, Nanami takes another step forward. He’s closer now, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. His presence is overwhelming, not in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but in a way that feels like a magnet, pulling you toward him. And when he leans in, just slightly, so that his lips are a hair’s breadth away from your ear, you hear him say, barely above a whisper:

“I will not leave your side, Your Highness. Not now, not ever. But if you wish for more… then you must be prepared to face what it costs.”

You close your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. You know, deep down, that this moment—this fragile, uncertain moment—is the beginning of something you cannot undo. There’s no going back from here. But as you look into his eyes, the weight of everything you’ve ever known, the chains of duty and expectation, suddenly seem… lighter.

You take a steadying breath, your fingers tightening around his hand.

“Ok.”

I found the draft for this on a crumpled piece of paper in my chemistry binder, so I hope you enjoyed!

[tapestryundone]

yknow what why not. have this from last night

(just the text under the cut)

IM INTRIGUED BY WHATEVER HE HAS GOING ON bc he likes fun but seems also deeply unhappy with himself which FEELS like it contradicts his whole being Like That but it makes Sense. why is he so self consious

it FEELS related to him as a voice being like. a desperate desire for agency at all costs. to be able to have fun in an extremely stressful situation. im struggling to put my finger on it but its liek

all of the voices are tied to complex emotions and hes like. the epitome of trying to get someone to leave you alone by doing anything you can to piss them off. like hes decided he Likes to do that, actually, and its NOT a desperate attempt to gain control in a situation where he has none, bc hes genuinely compassionate but it gets hidden behind the fact that he wants to upset hte narrator. hes the opposite of the opportunist in that he doesnt want to appeal to people who have power over him, he doesnt want to fight them or run away from them, all he wants is to aggravate them because he doesnt think he CAN do anything else. its pestering someone bc its the most power you can exert against people and situations you dont wanna be in, and then convincing yourself that its what you wanted in the first place

as a guy who likes fun DOES make him clash w the tones of a LOT of the game but i think its like. easy to look at the other voices and pinpoint what survival mechanism they are and then contrarian shows up and its less obvious

but hes a persons NEED to have fun, similar to cold. where cold has rejected the notion of emotions but still seeks novelty, contrarian NEEDS to experience joy and is trying to force it to happen, even if it involves goading the others or making bad long-term decisions. hes a very emotion-heavy voice and i think thats probably WHY hes quick to feel guilt and shame, bc it stems from teh same need to feel satisfied with actions and your environment, because in a situation like this, you CANT get entertainment from yourself. but he cant entertain anyone but himself. but he cant actually do that because its weak, poorly executed attempts at levity that falls apart under pressure

idk if this makes ANY sense im just intrigued by him. bc the stranger route started as a joke but it seems to serve as the BIGGEST outlier of a chapter in the whole game to teh pt where it can give you an entirely new ending that even goes so far as to include a second voice in the ending which makes me feel like he has to be important SOMEHOW

maybe its just the underlying emotions of it all. above all else, people want to enjoy life. it doesnt matter if life is stagnant, or if life is a unending cascade of changes, because its only bad if the people it affects do or dont enjoy it. because what the world does and doesnt need revolves around if it makes you feel good. hell i feel like theres a case for the fact that the contrarian ALWAYS gives you new, novel options. he ADDS change wherever he goes. hes the among the most connected to the shifting mound of the voices in that what he wants changes by the moment because what he wants above all else IS change and novelty. and hes a persons need for joy in life, something that is so distinctly mortal, to not just exist but to ENJOY existing, something that the narrator gave the long quiet and the shifting mound. he just extremely represents choices that are Out There. and the fact that the contrarian ascribes "the courage to do things that others may not do" as being him is ALSO interesting to me. maybe hes not just a persons ability to seek joy but also a persons ability to push back against outside pressure. a complement to the heros desire and conviction for agency, being the ability to push back when that agency is denied, to be able to live and feel fulfilled through ones OWN choices, not someone elses

and in an environment that so often denies that agency, his Whole Deal is trying to wrench back that agency even if he knows it wont work. the Trying IS the point. but in spending so much time trying to wrestle agency back you dont really pay attention to situations where you dont need to do that. because as far as hes concerned, you dont have agency, cant have agency, and wont have agency, so the best he can do is be a dick about it. as far as hes concerned, choices dont really matter. if everything is changing, if you can make EVERY choice, then do those choices matter? which always shocks him when they DO. because as an entity that exists to try to piss off those denying you agency, you dont realize where the line between 'choices that dont matter' and 'choices that have effects' are. but by his nature he ALWAYS forces his actions to matter without realizing it. maybe THATS why the knife never comes back after he throws it away. because it is in his nature to allocate agency where there previously was none. to the detriment of Literally Everyone

guy who makes agency exist but doesnt realize hes causing that and keeps acting like his choices dont have consequences

and that in itself is like. his comment abt EVERYTHING being as bad as nothing. feels like it rly strongly is tying him to what tlq and tsm once were. because they used to be the combination of everything and nothing. but now they are everything and nothing, apart. and maybe thats part of where contrarians weird self consciousness comes from, because his very existence is to force EVERYTHING to be possible, to do EVERYTHING, to cause as much change as possible, but its still not what he wants, he wants a balance that doesnt exist anymore

idk if this is making ANY sense i feel like ive accidentally talked into circles like 50 times but out of all of the voices the context of his purpose intrigues me the most actually bc i think everyone else has pretty straightforward purposes and then theres. This Guy who JUST causes problems. but its weirdly sincere about it. and i think its intentional bc blacktabbygames does not shy away from making Guys Who Are Just Obnoxious and unwavering in their goals, and for how much each of the voices so adamantly resist yet desire change, contrarian and hero are both the most malleable and changing

[mothmangela]

Breakfast At The Lighthouse

A short writing exercise done during a quiet window at work. Lucanis provides the occupants of The Lighthouse with a rather extravagant breakfast. Rook (in this case, Dove Thorne, my OC; you can find out more about him in the Dove Thorne tag on my blog) muses on found family.

There were hot, flaky pastry parcels full of a rich beef gravy. Bread, thick with golden butter. Sunny slices of cheese, whorled with holes lay on a platter, alternating with the rosy pink slices of fine honey-roasted ham. Tiny tomatoes glistened like rubies, dotted amongst a salad of lambs’ lettuce. Everywhere Rook looked, his eyes settled on something new and undoubtedly delicious. Fat scones, still steaming, piled next to a pair of elegant pots filled with glossy raspberry jam and clotted cream so fatty and rich it was almost buttercup yellow. Muffins in patterned paper cases, some studded with fat blueberries, others with little pieces of fudge, dripping caramel sauce onto the platter. Dainty finger sandwiches - the white bread cut so thinly Rook had no doubt he could’ve read the morning paper through it had he been so inclined - with the scalloped frill of wafer-thin cucumber slices peeking from the edges. Dumpy little tartlets, some full of different varieties of jam, some with chocolate, others with caramel and full-bellied hazelnuts, sat close by, looking all the more delicious for their humble presentation.

“It’s a rough breakfast,” Neve commented sarcastically, as though they both weren’t painfully aware this was more food than either of them had ever seen in their lives. “But it’ll do.”

She punctuated the comment by popping a whole, miniature boiled egg in her mouth. A quail’s egg, Rook realised; he’d seen them in nests hidden under the hedgerows in the fields, but always thought they were too pitifully small to steal. But the rich will take for the sake of taking; whether it’ll sustain them or not. Not that Lucanis was that type of rich person, but he’d certainly been brought up on finer fare than the clan had ever been afforded. Rook hurriedly took a seat; Neve was eyeing the gooseberry jam tarts in such a way that Rook was seized by a sudden sense of urgency.

“Lucanis,” Rook began haltingly. “Are you aware that there are only eight of us for breakfast?”

“I was up anyway,” Lucanis shrugged, shuffling about in a monogrammed bed jacket. “And I wanted you to have options.”

“Maker, that’s a heck of a spread,” remarked Harding as she strolled into the room, her eyebrows in danger of disappearing into her cloud of (visibly unbrushed) auburn hair. She sat beside Rook and helped herself to a wodge of toast, heaping on butter so generously that it began to melt and run in keen rivulets down her wrist. “How’d you learn to cook like this? Didn’t you guys have servants for this kinda stuff?”

“I spent a lot of time getting under everybody’s feet in the kitchens as a boy though Caterina used to scold me for it when she caught me,” Lucanis said. “I wanted to try and make something for everybody… there’s fresh fruit for Taash, and Ferelden cheese for you, Harding… Bellara gave me some Dalish recipes… Just seemed like a good way to stay busy when I wasn’t sleeping. A good and helpful way to stay busy.”

“I certainly shan’t complain,” chimed Emmerich as he drew up a chair and began to pour himself and Rook a cup of tea from the big brass kettle. Unlike the rest of The Lighthouse residents, Rook and Emmerich were quite decidedly tea drinkers rather than coffee drinkers, though Emmerich took his with enough sugar cubes to treat a whole herd of Halla.

“Lots of vegetarian stuff,” Rook nodded, shoving a plate of tiny puff pastry slices filled with what looked like crumbled cheese and slices of pears toward Emmerich.

“With such a care toward presentation that one would be forgiven for assuming a Nevarran chef had plated them!” Emmerich agreed, heaping a selection of things onto his plate. Taash had entered the room in silence and immediately put the entire serving platter of croissants onto their own plate, with a modest bunch of grapes on the side.

“Glad to see you’re making sure your diet has all the relevant food groups Taash,” Davrin remarked through a mouthful of bacon. “Twelve croissants and seven grapes. Very balanced.”

“Food groups are vashedan,” Taash replied airily, with a blunt certainty that made their statement seem far more reasonable than it was in reality. “Just eat what you want to eat. Nobody tells me what I can and can’t eat. Who cares about food groups?”

“I mean, it’s a point,” Bellara said tentatively. “With Elgar’nan and Ghillan’nain and… everything… Maybe we should enjoy stuff like this where we can.”

“And that is the point,” Lucanis said sagely. “No matter what the world is doing, good food is a great comfort.”

“Very Antivan point of view, but I can’t say I’d argue with it,” Davrin conceded, tearing a bread roll into halves and tossing one at Assan, who snapped it out of the air into his beak with surprisingly dexterity for an animal that managed to step on every single individual rib when he tried to climb into bed beside any of the Lighthouse residents of an evening.

“Has he tried to make you drink those weird “effervescente” drinks with the white stuff in yet?” Neve asked. “He says they’re good for digestion. I think they taste like the bottom of a store cupboard.”

“To be fair Neve, you eat like a Minrathous street cat,” Rook teased. “Isn’t this all a bit fancy for you?”

“Like you didn’t pay over the odds for a pound of Halla butter because it reminded you of home last week,” Neve crowed in response, though she was quickly distracted by the discovery of some potted shrimp. Rook let the comment hang, happy to take the teasing; his cheeks ached from smiling, and that feeling had become foreign in the past few weeks. It was hard to smile when you spent a great deal of time wading through waist-high blighted water and trying not to step in corpses. There was a feeling of family at the Lighthouse that he hadn’t known even with the Wardens; it was like being back with the clan again, taking turns milking the Halla and baking bread in the ashes of the firepit. In a strange way, it felt like he was a shepherd again, watching over the people of the North the same way he had once so carefully guarded the Halla. He knew Davrin had shared that aspect of growing up Dalish, and made a mental note to ask him if he ever felt that same responsibility for the people they met on their adventures. Rook had felt it during his service with the Wardens, and he felt it again with every step he took with his new family toward that distant end goal of eliminating the blighted gods and restoring order; like he was guiding his flock through the dark, and protecting them from what lurked in the shadow beyond the light of his lantern. It was just that what inhabited the shadows now was significantly higher stakes than what usually menaced the Halla.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Matthew was the first to peer inside the tube. It looked to be a man in his mid 30s wearing some kind of elegant yet old outfit. Matthew remembered Evangeline telling him that Myra was older than he realized. Matthew was still trying to accept that as fact. Seeing this man though, someone Matthew figured was from a period long before he was born, it just further confirmed Evangeline’s claims. “Okay we need to do this as quickly as possible. We are going to attract a lot of attention since this can’t be done quietly.” Patricia exclaimed. She was a bit frustrated that she wasn’t technologically advanced like Jenkins or Gene. They could have helped crack the locking mechanism on these tubes. Unfortunately Gene was mentally and emotionally focused on saving his husband and Jenkins wouldn’t survive long against the powers of the Unspoken Ones and their acolytes, even with Joe here who was part Eldritch. Joe was keeping an eye out for any hidden guards, luckily, he didn’t feel any eyes on them or the group, for now. Matthew nodded and used some of his powers to break the lock on the tube. The lid on the tube popped open with a loud noise, causing everyone to flinch. They quickly gazed around, looking for signs of movement or alarms sounding off. Fortunately for them, everything was still quiet, even if it was an eerie silence. “Okay, we’re still in the clear.” Joe remarked. “This man should still be out cold for a while like Evangeline was. Let’s just pull him out of the tube for now and move on to the next person.” Atomic dictated. The others nodded and Atomic Steele, Evangeline, and Matthew went to other tubes while Patricia and Joe removed the person from his tube and kept watch for their allies. Evangeline arrived at one tube containing a young teenaged woman that she didn’t recognize. “Poor child, so young, yet your life taken away by dark monsters.” Evangline muttered with sympathy. She then used her powers to break open the tube. Atomic found a woman who looked to be around the same age as Evangeline, yet was dressed in attire that portrayed a villain persona. “Great, with my luck I’m saving a super villain.” Atomic muttered in annoyance. Though he was surprised to see a villain had also been captured and taken by these people. It appeared that these Unspoken Ones and their acolytes didn’t care what side their target was on, they just viewed them as a sacrifice. As Matthew approached his tube and saw who was inside, he felt his heart stop. His legs wobbled as the earth seemed to disappear from beneath him. The old villain let out a gasp as he saw a familiar face he thought to be long gone. “S..Sebastian.” Matthew uttered in a stunned tone as tears streamed down his cheeks. The vigilante who was the only father figure he ever had, the good man he thought Drake sent to his doom, the man whose deceased corpse he found that horrible day…was alive! Meanwhile, Gene, Tristan, Archie and Jenkins arrived at a seemingly abandoned apartment structure outside of town. Gene frowned with worry and concern. This was where the chip on Alan’s suit was supposed to be located. Gene was still dubious since it didn’t seem like there was any place for Miss Power to hide a spaceship. Sensing his husband’s concerns, Tristan turned to him. “There are species that can cloak their ships. Lexicons are one of them but the cloaking on our ships became disabled when we destroyed the guidance system. To prevent the people back on our planet from searching for us.” Tristan explained. “Thanks, but that doesn’t help relieve my fears that we’re walking into a trap.” Gene replied. @dualnaturedscientist

"Hold on a minute, some weird guy is staring at me. Probably some bum trying to get change off of me." Comments like that had ensured he would absolutely be relieved of guilt for what was to happen next. A smile spreads across the figure's facial features, revealing inhumanly sharp teeth glinting in the street lights. A hand quickly shot out, taking a hold of the rather obnoxious man. "What the hell are you doing-" A scream soon pierced the quietness of the night. It quickly became a horrendous gurgling noise. The cellphone in the man's hand had fallen in the process. Leaving the person on the other end to become worried and confused about what was happening to the man. It didn't take very long for the man to become completely still. The figure allows him to finally fall to the cement below, licking at his blood stained lips in satisfaction. "The night, it is still so young. I don't think I shall waste another minute on you." Like a ghost in the night, he had vanished. As if he were never there. Leaving only the grotesque mess he had made for others to find. Unknown to him, there was a witness to this who had seen the whole thing. Watching in complete and utter fear. The figure grinned, it was as if he were seeing the world through different eyes. The opportunities that awaited him. It sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. His thirst might have satiated but he wasn't satisfied with only that. Oh no. There was so much more he had in mind for this city. Just wait till morning until they discover his little surprise for all to see. It wasn't until hours later did he finally return to the house. Feeling pleased with himself. Carl shot up in bed, heart racing so fast within his chest. Calming down once realizing he was in bed with Matthew. It took the retired scientist to recognize his surroundings. "That's right.. we're at Gene's place." The dream he had woken up from was already fading from his memory. It was rather absurd, recalling what he could. He could've sworn the dream was incredibly vivid and felt so real. But the little bits of the dream that he did remember became fuzzy and distant in his mind. Carl wasn't as quiet as he thought. Matthew had woken up. "Love, are you okay?" His voice had brought Carl from his thoughts. "Matthew, dearest. I hadn't meant to wake you up." He frowned, feeling guilty as he wanted his husband to get as much rest as needed. "It's alright, I needed to get up early anyway. Don't feel bad, my darling. I'm worried about you, though.” He gave Matthew a smile. “It was just a dream. I was just startled from a dream. I don't even remember what happened in it anymore. I'll be fine.” Matthew pulled the other into his arms, holding him in such a comforting manner. Placing a loving kiss to Carl's forehead. “Even so, I've still got you.” The former scientist blushed. Matthew still had such an effect on him even after all this time. “Thank you, my love.” They had stayed like that for a good while. It wasn't until Carl noticed the time that he forced Matthew to get out of bed and to get ready for his community service. Though there was something that had been bothering Carl since waking up. He had not remembered going back to bed after his conversation with Gene last night. No matter how much he tried to, it just kept coming up blank to him. Carl sighed, he must've been that tired that he didn't remember. He was getting up there in age. “I could stay back. Margaret won't be very happy about it but I don't want to leave you if you're not okay.” Carl smiled once more. “I'm not going to be responsible for what she'd do if you tried. You're also expecting a new face there, aren't you?” Matthew looked surprised at that. He had completely forgotten about that. And Carl did make a point. Wincing at the thought of what Margaret might do if he actually did skip out on it. Though for Carl, it would've been absolutely worth it. Whatever punishment she'd dole out, he'd endure for his dearest husband. “Go get dressed now.” Matthew chuckled at that before doing as he said. Leaving Carl to this thoughts.

Carl still felt unsettled by the dream, it was like he was walking through a mist. Yet at the same time it was like someone or something was controlling his body and actions. The dream was scary, but also ludicrous. At one point Carl thought he saw someone who looked like his old narcissus ex boyfriend who he never thought about again until now. Carl just let out a sigh and shook his head. 'It was just a nightmare.' Carl reassured himself. He remembered how reading how the mind and senses can trick the body into thinking something is real when it isn't. His strange dream was just one of those cases. Carl decided to get out of bed and go downstairs. He was going to try and help his son and other son-in-law deal with this strange and frightening case of kidnapping. Carl pushed away the issue of the nightmare and headed downstairs, ignoring the feeling of dread in the back of his mind. Carl also did not pay attention to that fact that his mouth was no longer dry and that there was no glass cup on the nightstand when he got up that morning. Atomic Steele surveyed the area with caution and an intense gaze. He was going over the area looking for something out of the ordinary. Something that had bothered his friend and teammate Electric Blur. Something in this seemingly abandoned area affected Blur's powers. "I wasn't sure what just happened. It felt like I was suddenly communicating emotionally with a strange energy wave that was being transmitted from there. I felt uneasy and scared...but also sad for some reason." That is what Blur told Atomic when she came back to their hideout looking shaken and worried. She told him she never felt anything like that before, not even from the fallen B.E.A.W labs. Atomic Steele offered to check it out for her as the young heroine wasn't keen on returning to the spot. While Electric Blur was being comforted by her other teammates, Atomic followed the directions the heroine had given him to the location where she felt the strange and unsettling energy. What Atomic Steele found when he got there was a large but abandoned warehouse surrounded by an empty field. The area was surrounded by a rusted, wired fence. The place looked like it hadn't been used for years. Still, the normally brave yet brash young hero couldn't help but feel a child go up his spine. His gut and instincts telling him there is something dangerous here, something evil. Atomic Steele walked up to the doors of the warehouse. He grabbed at a rusted handle and tried opening it. To the hero's surprise and growing caution, the door easily unlocked. Atomic Steele took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. He then proceeded inside the warehouse in a slow pace, ready to discover what laid inside. "Oh hello there Matthew. Cutting it a bit close are we." Miss Dewey lightly teased the former villain as he just came into the library to start his community service. "Sorry about that Miss Dewey. I had some problems this morning but I'm here now." Matthew replied, feeling a bit embarrassed about cutting things close. He really didn't want to leave Carl and Gene alone during the family crisis that was happening but at the same time he really didn't want to test the limits of his second chance at freedom from prison. Miss Dewey gave the man a look of sympathy and concern. "You know, if there is a serious problem going on at home, I wouldn't mind helping you fill out some forms to request a temporary leave from your community service." The librarian offered. Matthew smiled in appreciation at her kind gesture. "Thank you Miss Dewey but I'll be alright." Matthew responded. "So has the new service worker arrived yet?", the former villain asked. Miss Dewey smiled and nodded. "Yes he is here. Matthew, allow me to introduce you to Frank Leigh." Matthew glanced over to the man Miss Dewey introduced. He looked to be a few years older than Victor but still younger than Matthew and Carl. He had dark hair and light, blueish gray eyes. The man gave a friendly wave to Matthew. "Hi nice to meet you." Frank spoke in a kind tone. @dualnaturedscientist

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/765462292829700096/httpswwwtumblrcomlover-of-mine76546098972450

Oh that is.. wow.

Yeah ok this is definitely a lot worse then the one I sent in 💀

Was Oliver tagged in this one too? The poor man. He just wants to kiss his muse and is trapped in nepo baby hell instead 😭

Oh yeah. And Oliver was definitely tagged too. Someone free him.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Y’all what if Lilith didn't choose to take a vaycay in Heaven? What if she got redeemed?

[hearts401]

raises my hand i actually like the concept of a shitty parent getting better i just hate when its used to be like "im good now so you should forgive me."

people grow and change and hurt people!!! and those hurt people deserve to move on without having to forgive their abuser!!!

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

i love the idea of curioso sitting on the couch watching cartoons and him singing from happiness is too cute 🤧

thank youu for gracing this niche fandom with your writing! ❤️

Thank *you*! I'm glad you're enjoying the story still..! <3

I can't wait for Curioso's past to come up, I have some personal headcanons + additions I've added to it that I'm dying to get to. Time and patience, thouuugh....

[redhotarsenic]

When I think about Valantinez in a trigun situation I don’t actually picture them with the overly fucked proportions and the hand guns. Like they still have blood ammunition and a prosthetic leg gun and they use that thing bayonetta style but the blood ammunition connects to regular dual pistols instead

[lecliss]

I've still been fucked up ever since I found out that(according to an actually plausible timeline), Konoha has only existed for like 90-something or whatever years??? It's not like. Fucking 200 years old or whatever. And that Madara died when he was 74 but he had himself hooked up to, fuckin what was it??? The Gedo statue?? A tree?? Whatever. In order to keep himself alive and you look at him all old and crusty and think he's like. Over a hundred at least. But no, that man's 74. He's just an average fucking grandpa!!! And Hashirama had been dead for a LONG while, so he actually died pretty young all things considered. And that also means Mito died like. Fuckin. I'm guesstimating here but in her 60s I guess???? But it's a significant thing that the Uzumakis have longer than average lifespans so like. What the fuck is the average life expectancy in Naruto for this bullshit to make sense???

[thefleshyougoveggie]

having to fight every molecule in my body not to overthink everything he sends😭😭😭

[kyouka-supremacy]

Soo about what I asked you what do you think of yosano x higuchi

I said in the reply there I think higuchi is in her early 20's so therfore an adult

You didn't really say what do you think of this pairing outside of wanting to know how old is higuchi so can you say what do you really think of it?

Mmmhh idk, I don't have any strong feeling about it? I don't think I can picture them together romantically

[cangrellesteponme]

just went on a blocking rampage. big sigh

[keeps-ache]

hurghh. poetry