#sometimes i wonder why i feel so tired and dreadful like literally all the time

[lxnelyhearrt]

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[mistymem0ryy]

Il Dottore x Reader

The Fall of Icarus Chapter 1 - An unexpected letter

Summary: While being a student in the prestigious Sumeru Academy, the reader begins to form a weird friendship with the genius student Zandik, only to then lose said friendship due to his banishment. Years later a rogue letter finds its way to their report-file desk.

The gender of the reader is not specified.

(Minor spoilers for Dottore’s identity ig)// Word count: 2066

Notes: I am quite tired of the constant fics where the Reader happens to not be at a similar intellectual level as Dottore… Do not get me wrong I understand that it could be quite intimidating since the guy is quite literally a genius, but I always wondered how different his common behavior and developing intellect would have been during his Academia years…

Chapter 2

{No beta we die like Zandik’s grades}

People like Dottore are usually blessed with what I call an Imaginative Genius, he is inventive and curious in nature but that is not all you need in order to excel in an Academic environment. Any undergrad level Science student will complain to you about obligatory courses that range from boring classes on how to write an adequate lab report, to mind draining mathematics units that you have to take in order to graduate but most probably will never need in your actual profession.

Dottore is a genius, yes, but he is also impatient and insatiable, and those are the traits that led him to his unlabeled relationship with you…

The Academia is constituted by various facets dedicated to different areas of research, but they all possess one common thing, and that is the dreadful compulsory mathematics and report units. Mathematics is the language of the world, therefore it would be only logical that a self respecting scientist would have a certain degree of fluency in it…And to add unto that, a great researcher must too be capable of describing all observable phenomena in harmonious text.

Dottore… or should I say Zandik? Well, no matter how much his brain was capable of maneuvering itself into creating unimaginable gadgets and devices while simultaneously researching lost ruins of forgotten civilizations, he simply could not wrap his head around a certain set of classes that he deemed utterly useless.

He wanted to go out and research the unknown, feel his surroundings and understand their development, he wanted to acquire knowledge beyond the one present in the various dust collecting books that encircled him every minute… 

He wants to punch down that godforsaken door and leave this classroom at this precise moment… But to his utter disdain he cannot.

You see Zandik is quite the intelligent fellow, his curiosity leads him further in his personal research but he must balance all of that alongside all the courses the Academia requires from him in order to finish his initial program. But no matter how “important” a certain class might be, if it doesn't strike the interest of the blue haired student then he will not even glance towards its direction twice… His time is precious and slowly but certainly running out, so he must make the most of it, even if it means missing a rather concerning number of classes.

You would like to say that perhaps, in some sick and twisted way, Zandik considers you a friend… an appreciated company? a tolerant fellow student?... 

After years of being in the Academia you have come to recognize the fact that you were the one sole person he did not outright treat with pure hatred. Sometimes you look back to your first year in the Academia, when you were solely a freshman ready to embark on a new intellectual endeavor and happened to be partnered up with Zandik for a class on “The Etiquette of Writing a Concise and Clean Scientific Report”. A boring class that you honestly thought quite useless, I mean haven’t you all been writing for years already? Why would you need a specific class centered around writing a report when you could be spending this precious time on other more alarming subjects? 

After receiving your first graded assignment, and looking to your side only to be met with the hellish mess that was your Partner’s crumbling sheet you finally realized why this class was an obligatory module for graduation… You cannot decipher at which point his description of physical phenomena turned into a horrific amalgamation of scribbled equations, and- is that khaenri'ahn script? Nevermind, you do not want to know…

Zandik catches you fearfully attempting to understand the meaning behind his rather… messy report…and lets out an annoyed huff in the process.

He is an excellent scientist in the making yes, but he has a hard time translating the concepts that take place in his head into a mere sheet of paper, and the fact that someone, especially YOU, happened to be witness to one of his intellectual weaknesses, that he so arduously attempted to hide, stroke a nerve.

The moment the class is dismissed Zandik is packing his materials and leaving this humiliating experience, you quickly come to the understanding that his speed is not necessarily a byproduct of his failing grade, but rather of the fact that you saw said grade.

You knew Zandik had a reputation for being a Genius in the making, and honestly a part of yourself could not help but be relieved by the fact that this class was proof that he could also fail, that he was indeed human.

You gather your belongings as fast as you can manage, and decide to follow the boy into whatever corner of this building he has decided to retire himself into. When you find him you offer to secretly help him with his failing grade, which he reluctantly accepts. That is the beginning of the rather weird relationship you happened to establish with Zandik, you weren't necessarily friends… you knew that despite his act in front of the professors and all the well calculated smiles he threw into the air, Zandik didn't actually see any of your colleagues on exactly friendly terms… but you hoped… You hoped that perhaps after all of this he could find in himself the sympathy to see, at least yourself, in a softer light…And the thing is, he did, trully. You simply weren't capable of perceiving it.

It was rather unnoticeable, and only someone with an extremely keen eye and patience would be capable of noticing the slight ways in which Zandik would relax his composure when in your presence, how his gaze would linger on you while you corrected another maze-like report of his, how he would lie to you about being offered 2 coffees instead of one thanks to his Genius-like reputation among the academic staff, and now you would have to drink the other one so he doesn't over caffeinate his system.

It was honestly quite warming, while it lasted at least. You helped Zandik obtain the grade he needed in order to pass that tormenting class, and sincerely hoped that this would not be the end of the untold arrangement between the two of you.

The unnamed relationship between you and Zandik, to your surprise, remained intact after that class, he continued to talk to you whenever you too happened to be in the same room (which even though at first glance does not seem to be that much, it is actually quite important for him since you happened to be the only other student which he does not see as a complete waste of his time), and when he noticed that you were having a hard time with Multivariable Calculus he took it upon himself to tutor you through that fearsome class. It was those tutoring sessions that really allowed Zandik to learn more about you, from your favorite dish to your family history, and eventually to teasingly referring to you only by the name of your favorite constellation.

“Careful there Icarus you don’t want to burn your wings away now do you?”

“Zandik why is the lab on fire?”

It was all going quite well… until the rumors began…

All the compliments that embellished Zandik’s reputation in the beginning slowly metamorphosed into quick whispers in the hallways pertaining to his rather unorthodox ideas, people began fearing for their safety after the disappearances and deaths began… And the initial worry directed towards your person and safety, as being the closest student to Zandik, eventually transformed itself into comments about how you too must also possess some sort of sickness in that head of yours in order to talk with him so casually…

Zandik was ok with people gossiping about him, that is as ok as one can be when your sanity has turned into a theme of communal discussion, but when the hatred that those around him started to deviate from being completely aimed towards him and began to shift towards your unknowing figure, he had to put it all to a stop. You were the only person in that damned establishment that saw him beyond the performance he put up every waking hour, the only person that treated him as if he were an actual human being and not an interesting concept, and no matter how ardently he wanted to be accursed alongside your embrace he couldn't bring himself to actually bring the both of you into your own doom.

He stopped talking to you completely. It's as if in the matter of a fleeting night your bodily presence had been turned invisible to his eyes, your voice echoed upon deaf ears, your pleas for an explanation gone unheard, left to rot alongside yourself.

You tried, you really did, but Zandik persisted, and at some point your loud requests for an explanation had been turned into a fleeting glance on your way to class, only to then become the impossibility of seeing him for weeks on end…

You want to say that you were surprised when he was expelled, but honestly you saw it coming before he did. Zandik, no matter how many times he bashed in his capacity of predicting the outcomes of any possible situation, was always a victim of his own ego, he thought himself undefeatable and it was (temporarily at least) your job to ground him to reality when necessary. 

He had strayed too far, and now his own genius could not save him from whatever grave he had dug for himself this time, not even you could stretch a lending hand to bring him from the darkest pits of his mind back to the light…

It has been years since the last time you saw Zandik, out of everyone in your sector of the Academia he was the only one you were certain of achieving greatness in the future, only for that hypothetical greatness to be cut short before he could even graduate successfully…

You tried to find him, after he was banished from Sumeru, no matter how hideous his actions, you could not forget the fact that he too was a human being, you had seen parts of Zandik the world considered utterly impossible, and you hoped that he could see that no matter how tarnished his person could become by the words of the masses, you still saw him as the boy that would ramble about Ancient Civilizations while you studied anatomy, the same boy that would take you to the areas of Sumeru streaming with wildlife and lecture you on all the different properties of the various species inhabiting your surroundings, the same boy that sent you letters nearly every two days when you had to temporarily interrupt your studies to help a sick family member…

But now it has been years, and even though you were able to somehow balance out both your professional research and that for the whereabouts of Zandik, you have found yourself with absolutely no fruitful outcome to the latter.

You quickly realized that you had completely spaced out with your various reports left untouched in front of you, recently the amount of times you temporarily lose awareness only to daydream about your old days with Zandik has become alarmingly bigger, you really should get some healthy amounts of sleep from now on…Especially after receiving a heads up from Alhaitham of a wandering Traveler that supposedly is going to pass by your office today in order to request your help.

You begin to clean up your reports, organizing every sheet according to your personal system until your eyes land upon a rogue letter that you cannot recall having in your possession.

The only tip that could lead to the identity of the sender was the initial -D stamped upon the untouched envelope. You switfly grabbed and began to open the lonely envelope in an uninterested manner, that is until it suddenly fell upon your paralyzed feet, leaving your trembling hands stuck in their prior position, as if you were still holding that now forgotten letter within your grasp.

All it took was one inked phrase.

“Greetings, my dear Icarus…”

[juicyflawless25]

Bon Appétit (Ch. 1) Nsfw

Word Count; 2,779 (for the first chapter)

Notes; Inspired, somehow, by the song Bon Appétit by Katy Perry. I mean, who doesn't think Larissa Weems is good enough to eat, right? This is my first fic in quite some time, so please be gentle with me. However, I'm open to hear anything and everything you guys have to say! Also cross posted on ao3. Sexy part will come in chapter 2! Thank you for reading!

Melt in your mouth kind of loving. That was the way you could best describe your love life with your wife. Ever since you had first laid eyes on her gorgeous form, her angel-like hair and piercing eyes, your mouth would water. There were many times where you would find yourself staring, getting lost in the pure unadulterated beauty that was Larissa Weems, literally drooling on yourself as your mouth hung open.

When the two of you had first become acquainted, Larissa had wondered why you continually stared at her. Sometimes she would wonder if perhaps you were just lost in thought and she happened to be in the line of sight, or lack thereof. To be truthful, she began to ponder if perhaps you weren’t as bright as you had let on. The way the drool would slip down the side of your mouth and you didn’t even seem to notice, it always made her brows furrow and her painted lips to turn downwards at the corners.

But then as it continued on, time after time, she began to realize that wasn’t the case. No, something was going on behind your eyes. At times, it would drive her mad trying to figure out what was going inside that skull of yours. For quite a while, she had come to the conclusion in her head that you found her to be atrocious, a monster, a thing to be gawked at in disgust. After all, it wouldn’t be the first or last time she’d be thought of that way. The way you interacted with her, however, told her another story entirely. You were always kind, forever having something nice or sweet to say to her. You would go out of your way to do something for her, even if it was inconvenient for yourself. And the light touches, disguised as accidents? Well, it made the cogs turn in her head and her mind began to wonder even further than she had previously ever let herself.

The pinnacle for it all? The moment it all came together and finally made sense? Well, it was a day Larissa would never forget. She had been typing away at her laptop, sending off email after email, her glassy blues getting increasingly tired by the minute. Larissa was on the brink of done, her pointer finger poised just so over the button to hit send, when the doors of her office flung open. Her head snapped up, eyes wide and clearly conveying a sense of dread for a moment. When she realized who was marching their way towards her desk, Larissa’s head tilted and her eyebrows knit together in both worry and confusion.

Your eyes looked wild, scanning Larissa’s face as your bit at your lip. Your hands were fidgeting with one another, giving off more clear indication that something was bothering you. Larissa opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but you beat her to the punch before even a syllable could slip past her beautiful lips.

“Larissa!” You exclaimed, making her jump from the sudden sound coming from you. You almost stopped to apologize, but you had to push yourself to continue or you were never going to get done what you had come to do. 

“Larissa Weems, if I don’t tell you now how I feel about you, then I am going to burst at the seams!” You were breathing rather heavily, the principal realized. And it occurred to her that perhaps you had run to her office, set on letting her know something she had no clue of.

“I’m listening.” Larissa said with a nod of her head, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation. Her head was tilted as well, her ocean eyes gazing at you incredulously. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and your nerves. Your insides felt like they were trying to vibrate right out of your body, but you opted to ignore those feelings as you took a few steps forward to get closer to Larissa’s desk.

One more breath, as Larissa stared at you expectantly. You could see the questioning and worry in her eyes. You could see how your long stretch of silence was beginning to irritate her, which was not your intention at all. So, you straightened your back and let your feelings roll off of your tongue, just as you had intended to do.

“I find you…so, so incredibly attractive! And I know you’ve caught me staring at you so many times. You probably think I’m crazy, or dumb, or a variance of both! And that’s okay because I can imagine how uncomfortable I’ve probably made you. And I am so sorry for that! It’s just…I….I! God! You’re just so damn captivating and I’ve wanted nothing more than to tell you. But I didn’t want to scare you away or make you fire me! I mean, you’re my boss and this probably isn’t appropriate, but I just really need you to know how utterly gorgeous you are. All I want to do is show you exactly how I feel about you. So…there…there it is!”

When you were done, you took in a very large breath and let your arms fall to your sides. You had been gesturing wildly as you spoke, letting your hands talk along with your mouth. You had been staring at Larissa the whole time, but you had been so deep in your thoughts and your words that you realized you hadn’t gauged any of her reaction at all. It was hard for you to make yourself really look at her because you were afraid of how she was going to react.

As you gazed into her eyes though, conveying as much emotion as possible with your own, you saw a myriad of emotions parade through her face. It started with confusion, your words not making sense to her at first. Then it moved on to disbelief, as if she couldn’t trust the words she was hearing. That one hit you the hardest, but that feeling didn’t linger long as the disbelief moved on and smoothed itself out into a smile on her pristinely painted lips. 

When you realized she was smiling at you, at your words and your truth, your heart began to pound in your chest. It flipped and thumped against your ribcage and butterflies fluttered rampantly in your stomach. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t as bad of an idea as you had originally thought. 

Just when you thought the butterflies and the rattling of your heart couldn’t become any stronger, Larissa’s eyes gazed longingly at you as she rose from her chair. Your eyes followed her face all the way up, moving along as she strode around her desk to approach you. Larissa’s tantalizingly long fingers reached out towards your face and cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on her own. A grander smile spread her ruby red lips wider and it felt like your heart was going to burst into a million tiny, happy, beautiful pieces.

It looked like Larissa wanted to speak, but it seemed that she was tongue tied. No one had ever driven her speechless like that before, her own heart likely matching the beat of yours as your words sank deeper and deeper into her soul. As the words continued to elude her, Larissa decided to opt for something to replace them.

With a small lick to her lips, her eyes flicked to yours at the same time. Your breath hitched in your throat and stayed there, her gaze keeping you in place, feet feeling like stone that had sunk into the ground. Without hesitation, Larissa leaned forward and placed her lips gingerly to yours. It took you a moment to realize what was happening, but when your mind caught up, your body wasn’t far behind.

You savored the taste of Larissa’s lips, mingling with her lipstick, as you gently kissed her back. You hand had a mind of its own as it laid itself on Larissa’s hip, fingertips tingling as you touched her there for the first time. Larissa stepped closer, bringing your bodies together in a mold of newly formed lovers, and your heart stopped dead in your chest for a moment. When it picked back up, it did so in double time as you deepened the kiss with the goddess before you. This was more than you could have ever hoped for, more than you had even imagined would happen once you expressed yourself. 

That was ten years ago, and you have cherished every moment you’ve had with her ever since. This memory played through your mind as you went about your day, teaching your classes and catching fleeting glimpses of the statuesque woman you had so happily married. Each time you saw her throughout the day, you would smile at her, or wink, sometimes even blow a kiss her way. If there were no students around, you would wiggle your ass just the way she liked it. She would look at you with an eyebrow raised, the look in her eyes saying ‘There are people around! Behave!’ But you knew she loved every second of it.

It was the end of a school week, Friday evenings always giving you both the best kind of feeling. It meant time with each other, time without students bothering you or anyone needing something. Well, usually, anyway. There were times something would happen with a student that had to be immediately dealt with. You always felt a pang in your heart for Larissa when something would happen because she was always the one to take care of things. The school was her baby, her lifelong dream of becoming something she could be proud of. So at times, things could be quite stressful for her.

However, you were determined to keep your wife’s mind off of all things school related for the weekend, starting at the very moment she walked into your home. There would be no talk of emails, no discussions of a troublesome student (Wednesday Addams, to be specific). You were determined to keep any troubling thoughts from Larissa’s deliciously attractive mind. No, you had other things in mind for her.

When you heard the front door to your home creak open and close just seconds later, a grin spread across your lips. Hearing your wife come home always brought a sense of peace to your entire being, but today it also brought with it a longing. A deep, sensual, explicitly exciting feeling that dug deep into the pit of your stomach and burst outwards towards your extremities. You had been having terribly naughty thoughts of Larissa all day, mouth drooling for her just as much as it always had. 

“I’m home, lovely!” Larissa called out, her angelic voice ringing upwards to the second level.

Your heart skipped a beat and you bit your lip, fully ready to unleash the ideas you've had swirling around your brain. You stepped out from your shared bedroom and straight to the top of the stairs, knowing full well that Larissa would be heading up them to undress herself. She never varied from her routine after work, even if she came home later than usual. 

As you appeared at the top of the stairs, your eyes focused on the angel gliding up towards you. The sunlight from the front door was shining behind her, coming in at just the right angle to light Larissa up like she was heaven. And truthfully, to you, she was. Your wife was your heaven on Earth. The beat to your heart and the deliciousness that fed your soul day in and day out. 

Speaking of deliciousness, your mouth watered nearly uncontrollably as Larissa looked up at you through her lashes as she ascended the stairs. The way the sunlight filtered around her body, dancing around the edges of her goddess-like frame and accentuated every part of her that you adored took your breath away. The smile that graced her red lips made you suck in a deep breath and swallow hard. You could feel your pulse starting to move southwards just by staring at her.

Larissa reached the top of the stairs and stood next to you, tilting her head as she watched the expressions of adoration on your lively face. The way you looked at her always made heat rise up to her chest and face, sometimes even reaching out towards her ears. It did so today as she noticed a certain glint in your eyes and the way your mouth hung open as you stared up at her.

She suddenly cleared her throat and placed a kiss on your forehead, lingering for just a moment. “Are you alright, darling?” Larissa questioned, noticing how no words had come forth from your mouth quite yet.

You blinked and realized that you’d been so lost in gazing at her that you hadn’t returned any greeting to her at all. You grinned wide and nodded as your hands came up to softly cup her cheeks. 

“I’m doing wonderfully now that you’re home!” You leaned your head forward then and placed your lips to hers, kissing your wife lovingly. You could feel Larissa’s smile against your lips and you hummed as your thumbs swept smoothly across her heated cheeks.

It never seized to amaze her how you reacted to her coming home. It always lit a fire in her heart and her belly at the same time. The two of you had been together for quite some time, but the senses never dulled with you. It always felt fresh and new, like two young lovers just getting to know one another. The way you treated her would sometimes nearly bring Larissa to her knees in reverence for you, wanting to worship you in any way that she could. Little did she know, that was exactly what you had in mind for the evening. Of course, in the opposite way. You were more than prepared to be on your knees for her.

As Larissa pulled from the kiss, she leaned her forehead against yours and smiled sweetly. “You always say the sweetest things.” She commented, moving to brush her nose against yours. 

Larissa gave you one more quick kiss and then turned to walk towards the bedroom. “As much as I enjoy your lips against mine, I need to get out of these clothes. It has been quite the day.” She stated, the tone of her voice giving away exactly why it was that kind of day.

You frowned as you followed behind her, things already heading in the opposite direction of where you wanted them to go. Of course, you weren’t going to let that stop you. No, you knew exactly how to turn things around.

Quickly picking up your speed, you slipped past Larissa and opened the bedroom door for her as you waved your free arm towards the inside of the room. “In that case, my lovely, let me make this evening much easier for you.”

Your wife gave you an appreciated smile and let her hand brush against your shoulders as she walked by you. She squeezed one shoulder before she slipped into the bedroom, the hand carrying her bag dropping it in the designated area. You closed the door behind you and followed her into the attached bathroom, eyeing her ass all the while. 

Larissa could feel your eyes on her, but she chose to ignore it for the time being and begin taking the pins out of her hair. You immediately stopped her before she could pull even one pin out, however. Her eye darted to the mirror in front of her to eye you curiously. She raised an eyebrow at you, but all you did was smile at her and shake your head.

“Let me do that for you, Larissa.” You offered softly, one hand coming up to cover the one already in her hair. With the other hand, you gestured for her to sit down so you could more easily access her head.

Without a word, Larissa nodded and gracefully placed herself on the chair and sat back, letting her hands fall to her lap. She watched you through the mirror as you smiled and leaned towards her to place a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Good girl.” You breathed in her ear, just before standing up straight and placing all of your attention to her hair. You heard Larissa swallow thickly, but you dared not gaze back at her just yet. No, you were going to set the mood as you pampered your wife to the best of your ability. 

[genshin-obsessed]

Hiii it's me again! Idk if you do like modern au but if not then that's fine!

My request is Xiao/Cyno being inlove with s/o from the first time they met.

But, s/o doesn't like them and just wanted to be friends with them. I was wondering if you could do s/o reaction to the boys when they confess their feelings but s/o was dying .

Sorry if it's confusing-

Hello! Thanks for the request! I hope you like it, I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted to have this be since it's supposed to be modern. However, I took it as a challenge! Sadly I don't have a good title for this ;w;

➺ Character: Cyno ➺ Genre: Angst ➺ Warning(s): Character death!

Cyno was a man of few words and relationships. He usually kept to himself and didn’t really branch out much. You’d met him at work and he seemed to be a pretty… interesting individual. He was oddly straightforward, had little facial expressions or emotions… but loved telling jokes. Terrible jokes. He also seemed to take things literally and sometimes things tended to go over his head. But you enjoyed his presence nonetheless.

Cyno, on the other hand, was already madly in love with you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. You were sweet and kind and caring. You always laughed at his jokes, you were always the first to help him with anything he messed up on at work, and you never judged him. You enjoyed the silence he often provided and you learned everything about him. Of course the man would fall in love with you.

What he didn’t know was that you were sick and it was only getting worse. You didn’t air out your issues because you didn’t want people to treat you any differently. You didn’t want that baby type of treatment where the second you were too tired, people were forcing you to bed or something. So… you kept your illness to yourself and only a few close family members. That also meant Cyno would never find out. But you didn’t want him to know. He was so… happy and he never tended to worry about anything and this wasn’t something you wanted to add to his already full plate with work and school.

But then came the dreaded day you had been waiting for. You’d visited the doctor for your weekly checkup and you’d heard the one line you didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry, (y/n), but there’s nothing we can do beyond this point. We only estimate another week or so but this is so sensitive we can’t be sure. Could be more, could be less so… it’s best you stay here in case something worsens.” After that, you stopped listening. Giving the man a smile, you only nodded.

“Ok… thank you, doctor.” He could tell you were upset and stood up to help you lay down.

“We’ll alert all immediate family members, if you’d like.” With your permission, they contacted your family but upon your request… they also called Cyno. He rushed to the hospital, emotions in shambles, and panic written on his usually neutral face.

“(y/n)!” He yelled as he threw the door open, eyes wide with fear. “Wh-what happened?!” He ran to your side and immediately grabbed your hand.

“It’s ok, Cyno…” once you’d gotten him to calm down a little, you proceeded to explain that you were sick. Of course, the main question was why you didn’t tell him.

“I’m sorry… I wanted to spare you the stress. I knew it wasn’t going to get better so… I didn’t want you to worry. What I didn’t realize… was this was too late. I should’ve told you earlier… we could’ve…” you paused, not knowing how to finish your sentence. When you looked at Cyno, your eyes widened. He was… crying. Tears were pooling in his eyes, slowly cascading down his warm cheeks.

“Don’t leave me.” He said as he leaned in, laying his head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him as you felt him begin to break down.

“I’m… not gonna be too far, you know. I can’t leave you alone. Who else would you tell your jokes to?” You said, making him look at you. You almost winced at the raw emotion in his crimson eyes. Sadness and loneliness were the strongest. Reaching up, you slid your hand under his eyes, drying his tears but it was in vain. He started to cry again.

“I love you…” he said as he grabbed your hand and touched his cheek. “I love you so much, I-I don’t want you to leave.”

“I…” you didn’t know how to tell him you didn’t feel the same, but from the way Cyno looked at you… he could probably tell.

“It’s ok… I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to say anything. It’s ok.” That was his way of sparing you the pain of rejecting him. You only gave him a weak smile as you leaned your head back on the small pillow. You were tired… so tired. You could hear other voices in the back- mainly your family returning for the umpteenth time but… everything seemed so far away.

Cyno called your name a few times but after a moment, your hand that touched his cheek limply fell. He raced to grab it, bringing it back to his face but pausing. You… wouldn’t want to do that. Slowly, he lowered your hand, his head lowering with it. You were gone.

[archivalofsins]

Hey, how ya feeling? How's your mood? Nobody asked but it's somewhere between sick and tired. If you're wondering. Oh, or it's always some level of this in the background at all times.

Like I have a bone to pick with Caligula Effect 2 for the emotional damage it hit me with right from the gate and with Sasara and Machina's stories in particular.

As someone who has constantly had to reckon with the concept of mortality since they were born- This narrative seemed incredibly mishandled in comparison to everything else. You have the other go home club members and the musicians' problems and these two are just over here reckoning with the existential dread that comes with knowing you are going to die.

One of them one day soon and the other who knows when. I was playing this and talking to Sasara during her like dive deeper and when I said I understood where she was coming from I wasn't trying to be fucking nice I genuinely understood where she was coming from. I was born with seriously bad asthma I learned that I can die literally directly after I learned words because it was explained to me I could when I understood words.

In order to explain why yeah you need to sleep with this breathing machine on, why, because if you don't you have a high chance of your breathing ceasing in your sleep and you die, what's that, it's when you stop existing don't worry it happens to everyone. I spent the first seven years of my life going to sleep with the lingering idea of death over my head. It is not comparable to the other issues displayed here.

Having the game start off on that for people with experiences like mine gives this impression of seriousness that the rest of the story fails to properly deliver on that ultimately comes off belittling to the fact that the concept was brought up at all. Song is amazing as hell but I wanted to punch this game in the face when Sasara had the audacity to ask Machina if he was over his fear of death.

I literally said no he's not because that's not how that fucking works but he at least probably knows he wants to live, and he can't remain in constant fear of death while trying to do that. Like I understand wanting to rush towards death and met a fulfilling end on your own terms instead of just waiting for it to happen one day as Sasara continually does throughout two, I understand being afraid of the sometimes slow and sadly at times very quick demise an degradation of everything around you.

I understand this quite well. Yet having that compared that very ever present and life freezing fear and wait for the inevitable brough up right before going into a story about idols and burnout. That's a jarring shift in tone. One of these people is having a fucking existential crisis at their first run in with death and the other is bitter over an asshole idol.

I know everyone's struggles are different but it's very demeaning. Then they even have Machina pseudo die in the plot the thing he was most afraid of happening and it kind of plays this off as humorous while I'm just here like bet. It isn't lost on me that it took a near death experience for him to realize he wanted to live and there were in fact a lot of things he wants to do with his life. Yet...literally no one else here had to face their fears at all.

So, it's kind of weird this was put in to what? Fuck with people who actually share this fear that shit was wild. I was just was shocked into silence it was like I know you're treating this seriously yet at the same time is this a fucking joke to you kept running through my mind given my own experiences. It wouldn't have been wild if his near death experience made him even more afraid. It's good it didn't but still.

It was a mix of I understand but I'm soooo angry right now you wouldn't believe. It was like accurate depictions but fuck you. It was like decent but if given the choice between accepting this as fine or burning the code of this game with a flamethrower out of spite I'd choose the latter. Well, that just means he properly depicted the trauma and recognized everyone's struggles would be different and included various different struggles to better highlight a wider group of people. This was pretty inclusive.

That's not bad writing, that's a good thing. Yeah, you're right. That's why the game is good. People should play it.

However, it's important to recognize that the overarching theme of Caligula Effect 2 is death. Coming to terms with it and the many ways it can happen. Be it through one's own will, murder, natural causes, or happenstance. From that standpoint starting with Sasara and Machina makes thematic sense. However, it can dampen the stakes in every other instance after. Making them come off to some players as petty arguments that honestly did not need to happen at points if one were to compare those parts in isolation.

From insulting someone else's attempts at art, to arguing about idol culture- Never really picking back up that severity until like Shota's area and the choice with Marie. In comparison to dealing with the reality of one's mortality, deciding whether or not to die to make sure all of your friends can get out of here safely or tough it out with the unknown (Marie), to deciding to end your own life due to all the responsibilities and pressures thrusted upon you by others and society along with a lack of support (Regret).

I can thematically understand something and be like this was not it this theme at times felt really disconnected from the rest of the story and own a personal level offended me. I can also recognize a personal issue as a personal issues.

None of this makes this a bad game. It's a good game. It has good writing and characters. This just means my experience with it was ultimately impacted by my own relation to the theme of the work outside of the work itself. Now for all I know they expected and hoped people with that particular issue would play the game and learn something from it.

However, I'm at a point where I'm comfortable saying that lesson simply was not meant for me. I was at a point in my life where that would be counterproductive and most of what it set out to teach was something I already knew. Song is still amazing though. But like man it was an experience...

[gogolstoelicker]

Dorm leaders + Vice dorm leaders with a Kokichi!MC

notes: •what happened before will be just between the 13(?) of us ok👁👁act like this is new

•this was requested but uh we don't talk about what happened

• anyways, kokichi is my favorite🤞💥maybe i just like complex and mentally ill characters

You're mischievous and have a somewhat childlike demeanor. A schemer who compulsively or pathologically create lies and freely state what you were thinking while putting on your villainous persona, regardless of how it makes others feel.

Despite how you act, you also have a compassionate side that is rarely seen by others. You're also capable of showing empathy, but tried your best to make it seem twisted. You're extremely distrustful and paranoid of everyone around you. your lying in turn made it impossible for others to trust you.

Riddle:

if he's a fire breathing dragon, he'll probably burn the entire school down bc of u by now

you????always????get????on????his?????nerves??????

you're on the same category as floyd in his head for being annoying

you're magicless? well too bad, he's still gonna collar u for being annoying😒🙄

will probably need to have trey and cater hold him back whenever u decided to interact with him

i have no other words than he avoids u as best as he could

and thankfully, you're always occupied with other people so you don't bother him as much

but then sometimes ur little shit energy is too high that u went to bother riddle

he's abt to rip his hair out

him fr:

Trey:

he can deal with this☺

its kind of like che'nya randomly coming to nrc to mess with the heartslabyul students so like🤔he can surely handle this

but one time, u and che'nya appear at heartslabyul at the same time

he had not known peace ever since

if u look a little closely at him, u can see a single tear rolling down his cheek

give him some break pls😔🙏

esp since u always come over to heartslabyul

honestly? he can properly call tell if it's a lie or not

well some of ur lies that is

like "*said smth abt being upset* hehe that was a lie" "OBJECTION" -trey

so instead if him avoiding u, u might wanna avoid him instead🤔

or get closer to him bc hes the only one who gets u AYEEE U GET ME?

Leona:

very close to having a fist fight with u

he's sick and tired of u, pls stop

oh god why are u approaching his napping spot go AWAY

wait god? i mean great sevens

leona was so stressed he converted to a religion /JOKE

he avoids u like you're the plague

he can smell u from far away? well, he's gone from where he was before

he saw even a strand of ur hair??? GONE. NO MORE LEONA. LEONA IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

would probably order ruggie to use his unique magic on u to make u go away

he had not known peace(2) after his overblot

like u always go "leona!!!^^how's our mighty kInG doing:D?!got the throne from ur nephew yet?"

he wants to rip u apart

and not in a good way

pls leave him alone unless u have a death wish, thank u

Azul:

honestly? i can totally see this kind if tension between u two

not the good kind ofc, when have kokichi ever gotten anything good /JOKE

like ur both smart, is pretty sly and pretty much bastards

so u can already imagine how ur relationship are

and honestly? azul might feel this dread when he's with u, sorry bro

since you know how kokichi would make fun of miu and all that? THAT THAT

azul probably still have that unhealed trauma from when he was bullied, so seeing u freely make fun of someoje without considering their feelings, he kind of goes *shrink*

but u never made fun of him of what he's insecure about for some reason🤔hmmm what's the reason?

the only thing u made fun of him abt is when he cried abt losing his contracts LMFOAOAOAOA

well he's still wondering but relieved u didn't?:D👍

Jade:

yall have this tension around u(2)

jade is so used to floyd, he can literally handle ur lying like a pro

like u angry so suddenly? jade can handle that. happy? he can handle that too? crying so suddenly? he can handle that. being so mean and sadistic? he's gonna return his own sadistic thoughts to u🤷‍♀

the students around y'all after hearing yalls convo:

overall, jade doesn't really mind being around u

you're quite the interesting one in his eyes🤔

one of the people who kind of catches up to ur lies and could tell easily what u said are lies or truth

again, its either u avoid him or get closer to him bc that same reason

if its the second option, then congratulations🎊u befriended jade leech‼️of all people i could've be friends with‼️

the school fear u two

full on shaking on their timbers, knees weak not in a good way and vision blurry when they see u two together

Kalim:

a victim to ur lies

a soon to be gonta kinnie LNFOAOAOA

/j pls dont attack me😁

no cause he didn't suspect u at ALL

u can tell him any lies and he will believe it 100% without doubts and would even support u or help u (depends on the context of the lie)

he can't see it but it seems you've grown your own tail and horns

talking to u is like a rollercoaster

you're happy? well kalim is practically jumping in joy seeing u happy!

you're suddenly crying for no reason? well he's joined u in crying

you're mad at him? he'll try his best to make whatever he did wrong right!

while ur still mistrustful of the people around u, u probably considered him as ur friend at sone point

bc come on now, he's such a sweetheart:( how are u supposed to resist this:(

well uh best buddies?:D kinda?:D

Jamil:

straight up barked at u to STAY THE HELL AWAY, AT LEAST 10 FEET AWAY FROM HIM AND ESPECIALLY KALIM

well he didn't actually barked but u get the point

looks at u like this😡 when you're abt to approach him or kalim

and then u look at him like this 🤔😘🤞

you are now his reason of migraine

he alr have a walking headache before (COUGH COUGH kalim COUGH COUGH)

but now he have another walking headache—you!

if u and kalim walked into a room he's in together? that's jamil's walking migraine

sometimes, he prayed to the sky above to just end his misery and let him pass in a golden coffin or smth since he's sick and tired of u

would use his broom to fight u off the dorm, don't test him and his broom stick fighting skills🤬🤬💪💪

Vil:

you are not worth his time BEGONE *sprays u with an entire can of bug spray idk*

he have crossed paths with floyd here and there so he had seen someone having this mood swings that made him wanna rip his hair out

he had also came across someone who lied to get what they want in the industry

but u? oh great sevens

he would rather be in the same room as that liar and floyd and was forced to interact with them

bc not only are u confusing??? ur pretty annoying??? that it actually ruins his day???

and he absolutely hates how ur praises sounds like ur mocking him AND how u insult him right in his face, like how dare you???

would conplain to rook about u

he is very close to bodyslamming u into a wall so be careful‼️this is early warning‼️

but since he's an actor, he's quite observant and could tell what traits a person have

so high chance he might caught up to ur lies and why you're like this🤔???

he still wants nothing to do with u tho LNFOAOAOA

Rook:

ah yes you are QUITE THE INSPIRATION😍😍

he's oh so curious about u that he actually lurks around trees, bushes or pillars where you're near

which probably heightened ur mistrust towards him so oops?

HE SWEARS IT IS NOT LIKE THAT DEAR TRICKSTER💔💔💔HE DOES NOT MEAN ANY HARM, PLS DO NOT MISTRUST HIM💔💔

and if u somehow caught him and gave him this scary warning?

and ur not being /j but /srs?!

rook is ready with a poem in hand

scratch that, he'll make u a book of poetry as long as u forgive him and let him off the hook!

he had observed u for quite a while so he knows just how to handle u (esp with those mood swings)

and is pretty observant enough to tell when you're lying and when you're not

unlike vil, he would absolutely love to observe u more and hang around u even after he caught up to how u actually are!

congrats for having a french oddball by ur side?🤔

Idia:

"Top 10 reasons why i should never go out and why the outside world is just straight up a horror movie—the top of the list is of course, the ramshackle's prefect!! >:("

he avoids u like the plague too

or if we're going by modern terms considering his dorm, then he avoids u like you're covid

like he's abt to go out to buy some snacks bc he forgot to buy then online and saw u in the cameras? haha uh maybe starving is fine😁👍‼️

you're getting near his dorm for some reason? CALL ORTHO. CALL ORTHO AND PROTECT THE DORM RN.

and if he were to ever went out and saw u? oh he just wants to bury himself 6 feet under bc oh no oh no he was not supposed to be in ur line of sight at all!

well idia has not known peace ever since(3)

literally was abt to sob whenever u came to bother him

and ur mood swings? even worse, he wants to lock himself away from society forever

BUT the blueprints u asked him to make are quite op😳 thats the only thing he can bond with u with

more than happy to make the blueprint of ur ideas bc wow!! he never thought of this before and now he wants to know how it works and how good and useful is it:D!!!

yeah that's the only way to get idia tk talk to u ig🤔 any other times, he would just let his sorrow swallow him

Malleus:

he tries his best to tolerate u, he really did

but as soon as he appeared in front of ur dorm one day, he had not known peace since(4)

like he legit just feel pure exhaustion after talking to u

cause you literally went from happy to sad crying to angry yelling to sadistic sinister smile to normal happy again

^and all that happens under 10 minutes of talking with u, mind u

you're annoying>:( like rook

well not stalker level annoying like rook but close enough

sometimes tho, he just wants to🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡ u out of frustration

and then remembered how fragile humans are so be just

took some time to back away from u just so he can have a few deep breaths and calm himself down

u might wanna be careful tho🤔since one day he might just snapped and you'll be unseasoned barbeque chicken

Lilia:

interesting human:D!

although quite rare, he had met a few people like urself

plus, he had observed humans for years now so he knows just how to deal with u

could absolutely tell just what are u actually feeling, what u said are lies or not and what ur intentions are, etc!

and he is more than happy to give u advice if u ever need it!

bastard #1 meeting bastard #2, what could go wrong? everything

oh the whole school had not known peace(5) ever since u and lilia became best buddies

both of ur favorite pastime are pranking the people around u:D! especially those who gave y'all amusing reactions!

the whole school shaking in their timbers whenever they see the two of u

and if they overheard u two wanting to prank someone? it's every man for themselves

they all scrambled away from u and left their friends behind

absolutely makes u have tea parties with him!:D

hehe but it's a gamble if it's made by him or brought from the school cafeteria/store^^

overall? partners in crime. got people running away from y'all left and right

[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[onecanonlife]

Tommy’s getting tired of people thinking he’s not real. Tubbo, meanwhile, hopes that this hallucination of his best friend will stay a while longer.

They work it out.

(word count: 1,563)

............................

It only takes about another fifteen minutes for him to snap.

“What the fuck are you doing that for?” he demands, planting his feet and wheeling around and staring Tubbo dead in the face, because Tubbo’s been trailing along behind him like a fucking lost puppy or some shit since he got out, and he’s tired of it, tired of his best friend looking at him like that, with equal amounts of wonder and dread in his eyes, like he’s not fucking real at all.

Or should that be former best friend? He doesn’t fucking know. Apparently, it didn’t take all that long for Tubbo to replace him with Ranboo of all people. And get married. Apparently.

Tubbo blinks at him.

“I don’t think you’re real,” he says, and if Tommy’s anger hadn’t been boiling over before, it is now. He didn’t go to hell and back for people to tell him he’s not real. He didn’t stay in the same cell as Dream for a month for people to tell him he’s not real. He is so, so very real. The shock that shoots through his system, the bolt of all-consuming terror that overtakes his mind whenever anyone so much as bumps into him is proof enough of that. He is real, and who the fuck is anyone else to say that he’s not?

“Well guess what,” he says, “I fucking am, so deal with it or go away.”

He spent so long wishing to be by Tubbo’s side again. He didn’t think he’d get out to find this. Didn’t think he’d come out to be replaced. Didn’t think Tubbo would crouch along after him without saying anything at all, like he’s the one who died.

“You don’t need to be angry about it,” Tubbo replies, as if he’s the one being wronged here. “I’ve got it all figured out. See, I didn’t think you were dead at first, either. Sam told us and my brain went all weird and flat and in denial, because I knew it couldn’t be true, because you couldn’t be dead. But then it was a few days later and you still hadn’t come out, and it was true after all. So I can’t trust my brain, really, so this is probably my brain going into denial again. Wishful thinking.”

“You—” He cuts himself off, rage warring with confusion warring with he-doesn’t-fucking-know-what, because he’s been dead and locked in prison and he’s not even used to the sunlight yet, much less his own emotions. “I literally pinched you. I pinched you, and then you ran away and stood staring at me from that new—that new McDonald’s!”

“Tactile hallucinations aren’t impossible,” Tubbo informs him. “It’s probably because I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

That draws him up short, just a little bit. “You have?” he asks. “I thought you got married.”

“I did,” Tubbo agrees. “It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, really, so nobody got invited, but I was thinking about maybe having a bigger ceremony once you got out so you could be my best man, or something. I don’t really know how that works. ‘Cause it’s a platonic marriage, right, so I don’t know if you’re supposed to do it differently. But I wanted you to be there, and then it turned out that you wouldn’t ever, ever be.”

Well. Alright, so he wasn’t disregarded entirely, then. But still—

“And then,” Tubbo continues, “and then we adopted Michael, and I wanted you to be his godfather. You were supposed to be his godfather. Michael was going to love you. I thought you were gonna come back out and you were gonna meet Michael and everything was going to be alright. But then you didn’t.”

“Who the fuck is Michael,” he says flatly, even though his head is reeling because adopted—?

“He’s our son!” Tubbo says. “Mine and Ranboo’s! And you were gonna be the godfather. And it was going to be great, and we were gonna be a family, but then you died, and now Michael’s not even going to get to meet you. And you’re just, you’re just dead and I’m following you around because I don’t have anything better to do.”

There is—there is so much to unpack there, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Ranboo is—is the spouse, then, and he supposes he should have guessed that. The Michael issue isn’t too much clearer, since he doesn’t have a frame of reference for this—for this child? That Tubbo has adopted? What the hell? But it’s the last sentence that sends the anger flooding back, because what the fuck does he mean, he doesn’t have anything better to do?

“If that’s how you feel, then why don’t you—” he starts, but Tubbo cuts him off.

“I’m sort of pathetic, I guess,” he says. “‘Cause I’m following around a hallucination. I guess it’s because I know it’s the best I’m ever going to get. And you know, I’d rather have a you that’s not real than not have you at all, because this way, I get to see you and hear you. Even if you’re not here. So I need to enjoy it while I can, because I don’t know how long hallucinations last for, so I don’t know when you’ll go away again. And I don’t want you to go away. I don’t want you to be dead.”

All through this speech, Tubbo’s face remains distant, a little open, a little blank. But his eyes are welling up with tears, and as Tommy watches, they start spilling over his cheeks, uncommented upon.

And Tommy feels the rage drain out of him.

It was hell, where he was, in that terrible darkness, that void, being torn apart and shoved back together again. It was hell, coming back, everything too bright and too loud and too much, his body flinching and his heart racing at any movement, and a single touch is still enough to send him back there, to that moment, his vision fading and pain bursting like fireworks and Dream’s mask leaning over him, grinning.

It’s been hell, seeing how everything’s changed.

But Tubbo missed him. Really, really missed him. And maybe he’s replaced him a bit, and Tommy no longer has any idea how to feel about that, because it seems like Tubbo wasn’t trying to? That Tubbo still wanted him to be there, still intended him to be there? So he’s still a little pissed, maybe, and he still really, really wants people to stop being so weird, to stop reminding him at every juncture that he died, died and came back, but—

But Tubbo is crying.

“Tubbo,” he says, “I’m not a hallucination.”

“You are, though,” Tubbo says. “My mind’s playing tricks. You’re not—you’re not really—” He hiccups, and Tommy comes to a decision.

He extends a hand. It should be fine. It’s just Tubbo, and he’s choosing to do this. It should be fine. It’s going to be fine.

“C’mon, then,” he says. “Hold my hand, I’ll prove it. Maybe you could make up a pinch in your brain, but I bet you couldn’t make up this.”

Tubbo stares at his hand for a very, very long time.

“Don’t make this weird,” he says. “Tubbo, please, for the love of god, don’t make this weird. I really will go away, and you can just stay here and cry.”

Tubbo blinks, hard. And then, slowly, reaches out and takes his hand.

Tommy flinches, every nerve in his body lighting up, screaming at him to get away, and he can’t stop himself from gasping, from letting out a little whimper. But in the next moment, he’s fine, his heart rate already calming, and it’s just Tubbo’s hand in his, his grip loose and warm.

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before he speaks.

“This is a long time for a tactile hallucination to last,” he says.

Tommy rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can, in order to express all of his exasperation.

“I’m not a fucking hallucination, alright?” he says. “Has married life made you an idiot or something?”

Tubbo looks up at him, then. He looks back, and tries to convey with his eyeballs his sheer displeasure at literally all of this.

“I’m holding your hand,” Tubbo says slowly. “You’re not disappearing, and I’m holding your hand.”

He tries to convey with his eyeballs that Tubbo should consider arriving at the point sometime soon.

“Oh my god,” Tubbo says. “You’re real. Tommy, you’re real.”

“Damn fucking right I’m real,” he says. And something like relief washes over him. It’s nice to hear those words, from someone else. And Tubbo just stands there and holds his hand and keeps crying, harder, if that’s even possible, and Tommy thinks that this is a scene that he should possibly put a stop to.

But he doesn’t. He stands there and holds Tubbo’s hand and lets Tubbo cry. Because nothing is alright. Nothing at all is alright. Everything sucks and everything’s different and he needs to kill Dream and the world kept on turning without him. But Tubbo is glad to have him back. Tubbo missed him. Tubbo still wants him.

If his eyes are wet, it’s just the rain. He glances up, and blinks against the sun.

Just the rain.

[yandere-sins]

Your writing is just!! Mwah very good

May I request some rivalry or perhaps sharing hcs with yan diluc and yan kaeya?

Ah yes, let’s have something to sweeten my evening ~

»»———————— ♡ ————————««       

Kaeya

♡ Nothing he does ever happens without some underlying intentions. Is it leverage against his sworn brother? Could be. Maybe it’s just his revenge for all the years being absent and their tainted past. Perhaps Kaeya really just wants them to have something to connect over again. He can live with the dirty glances he receives from Diluc and playing the bad cop - who’s constantly pushing boundaries - in their pairing for when their darling misbehaves. However, they quickly learn that Diluc isn’t the person to run to when the brothers disapprove of the darling’s doings, or they might suffer from a punishment worse than if they go to Kaeya for help. Then again, ice might help soothe a wound, but only until it becomes a much more dreaded cryogenic burn.

♡ Kaeya isn’t putting up a rivalry between them. He much rather wants to share the darling with Diluc, but the latter isn’t as into the idea as Kaeya is. And yet, when he sees his brother so restrained and having no fun, Kaeya believes it’s his personal duty to tease Diluc into relaxing a bit and helping with tending to their darling. Whenever Diluc plays unapproachable, he’ll make sure to ask the darling ridiculous questions about who they like better, his once comforting hand now an icy and silent warning to not chose wrong. There’s something exhilarating in seeing Diluc bite his lip when he isn’t chosen, the slight pout and cold stare making it worth the tease. Knowing that Diluc wouldn’t just touch their darling unprovoked also plays into the reason why Kaeya likes to handle them so much, pulling them on his lap and running his hands up and down their body until they squirm. It’s when Diluc wants to interfere that Kaeya makes it clear to not get into his way, sparks of possessiveness erupting between them. Kaeya will tell his brother he’d prefer it if he left the two alone if he’s planning to just stand and watch, leaving his brother to seethe by himself as he storms out. At the same time, Kaeya remains with a knowing grin on his lips and their sweet darling in his embrace, winning almost every one of those battles.

♡ Knowing that Diluc is organizing everything for the darling, Kaeya can focus on all the nice things. Bringing them presents and what they ruefully request from him, even if they have to beg. He really, truly believes and makes himself out to be the good guy, but everyone involved knows his intentions are far from it. Every present comes with strings - sometimes literally. He’ll make use of all the good deeds to get what he wants from the darling later. Admittedly, oftentimes the presents are of more use to him than the darling, but he gives them back a little bit of what they desperately seek - freedom. A new book here, some flowers there. Clothes to choose from - plus the permission to dress as they please -  and sweets and drinks for the more depressing days to enjoy with or without him. While Diluc seems to accept what the darling is willing to give, Kaeya takes everything he wants. But if he isn’t too needy, too forceful, or too drunk, Kaeya is their go-to brother because he has their darling on hooked on all the good he can do for them. Not like he wouldn’t take what belongs to him even if they were to hold on to Diluc desperately. Only a drawn sword might be able to deter Kaeya - until Diluc isn’t there to protect them anymore, at least. Kaeya doesn’t forget what he feels he’s owed.

Diluc

♡ Diluc has a goal, and that’s what he’s focusing on. He wants his darling to be safe, and knowing he has to share them with his ‘brother’ isn’t really helping. He constantly has someone watching over the darling’s room, but Kaeya bribed the guards, a knock against the door warning him of approaching danger when he shouldn’t be in the darling’s room. Nonetheless, when Diluc finds his darling crying on the bed, covered with their bedsheet, he knows that Kaeya has been back, making him angry enough to have lost a few of the guards already in a bloody mess. The deal is that the two aren’t allowed to be alone together, but Kaeya seemed to have forgotten about the promise after it was made. And on the few awful days that Diluc has to watch over Kaeya pushing himself onto his darling, challenging his own brother with a pesky grin and his name dripping off his lips, Diluc can feel the headache it’s causing him, wondering if it’s really worth the pain to share his darling. But he has to, even if it’s just to keep himself and his darling save from the Knights of Favonius with Kaeya’s help.

♡ Undeniably, though he does deny it harshly, Diluc does have a bit of a jealous attitude towards his brother. He knows everything Kaeya does while staring Diluc in the eye provocatively is merely to make him nervous and break his composure. Sometimes it’s hard to just stand by and watch, but if there ever was a fight breaking out between the two, no one knew how much danger it would put the darling into. Meaning, Diluc has to make sure that it will never happen, even if that means he has to leave them alone. The many times he sighed once he left their room, scared for his darling, but relieved that he didn’t have to see something he never would want to witness, are hurting him and causing frustration. And when Kaeya makes them say that they like him more than Diluc, it stings, even though he knows that Kaeya is threatening them into it. Still, he’d want to be their first choice too. And sometimes, just sometimes, he wants to switch places with Kaeya, just to know how it is to handle their darling and not keep a painful distance to them because it was necessary. Occasionally, he manages to break the darling out of his brother’s fangs. Still, perhaps because he has no way of comforting them, putting them back in bed the moment Kaeya leaves, he always feels a bit jealous of his brother, who has so much more freedom with them. But freedom isn’t safety. That’s the only thing Diluc can think about.

♡ Diluc has to admit that there are times he sees them misbehave, and for that, he punishes them. Kaeya, on the other hand, has a habit of doing it for the most minor things like the darling shaking their head or looking at Diluc for help. However, other than Kaeya, Diluc believes he’s still the better liked and ‘good’ brother of the two. After all, he’s the one that cleans up the mess, feeds them, tends to their wounds. Everything that Kaeya leaves behind after having his fun with Diluc’s sweet darling is Diluc’s responsibility. The darling’s wardrobe is so full of awful colored, itching, and frilly fabrics that sometimes their darling is very appreciative of the simple shirt and trousers that Diluc keeps hidden until needed for them. Their teeth are going bad from being fed all those overly sweet and tough-to-eat presents, so even though they reject his efforts, Diluc makes sure to brush it for them thoroughly. It’s the only kind of direct contact with them, and with his mind focused on the task, he also keeps his thoughts from straying. Diluc knows he deserves nothing for the efforts he makes - after all, he’s aware that he locked them inside of this room - but if at the end of the day he knows they can sleep soundly, it’s enough for him. Kaeya is giving him a headache, but seeing a tired, automatic smile as he hands his darling water or fresh clothes makes it all worth it. And as much as he despises him, Kaeya did help bring Diluc and his darling closer together. Even if Diluc’s and Kaeya’s relationship is strained and complicated, it helps build more of a relationship with his darling. Though he has to always be behind his brother and make sure his darling is as safe as possible, Diluc at least gets to harvest the fruits of his labor slowly and satisfyingly. And if anyone knows how to do that, then the wine tycoon of Mondstadt.

[kiyosamu]

painful reminders

(part 1/3)

——— ♡ ———

pairing: suna rintaro x female reader

genre: angst to comfort

cw: brief mentions and descriptions of assault (not from suna, not domestic violence), reader experiences post-traumatic stress, panic, anxiety

——— ♡ ———

“hey, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

the words echoed in your mind for a few seconds too long. you were hardly able to register their meaning while under the influence of your deep fear. you felt nothing but dread; impending pain and horror that you were sure was coming at any moment.

——— ♡ ———

suna slumped his body on the window of the train, trying to contort his larger than average build into a position comfortable enough to get a few moments of rest before arriving at his stop.

“attention passengers. there is a situation and we need to make an emergency stop at the next station. please gather your belongings and file out of the train as soon as we arrive.”

weird, he thought. must be another petty robbery. maybe someone refusing to get off of the tracks, or something exciting, like a mass murderer.

suna caught himself just as he had the thought, stopping his process immediately.

he shook his head, unimpressed at his ability to appear removed and disinterested no matter the situation. not to mention the scenarios running through his mind; scenarios that would terrify any sane person with an ounce of emotion no matter who they were.

suna scoffed and sat up to grab his bag.

of course, he knew it was nothing like that. that’s probably why he didn’t stay in his head and scare himself with anything further. why bother upsetting yourself by simply letting your mind run away from you? stupid, he thought. he never understood overthinkers. not only was it not productive, but it was exhausting.

thankfully, this station was only about a ten minute walk from the next, the one he was supposed to get off at. even though he was coming home from a tiring practice, the athlete never seemed to run out of stamina.

suna squinted as bright blue and red lights lit up the dark streets. rain began to pour and suna cursed his odds. the forecast predicted only a 10% chance of rain, and he just so happened to be getting caught in that unlucky percentage when he had to walk even further just to get back home.

he groaned and pushed his hair out of his face. the rain soaked his clothes, his sweatpants and shirt clinging to his body. suna felt disgusting and suddenly the thought of a hot shower was even more appealing than the leftover onigiri he had waiting in his fridge.

just as another thought of self pity was about to cross his mind, another police car flew by him.

must be pretty bad, wonder what happened..

that thought was as far as his curiosity went. if it was major, he’d probably hear about it on the news or in the paper. if not, well, it really was none of his business.

as he turned down the next street, he saw four police cars all blocking off the station. police tape sectioned off the area and officers stood with their arms crossed and chests pushed out as other vehicles pulled in.

he blinked a few times, taking in the scene for a second before realizing he’d stopped walking. suna brought himself back to reality and stared at the ground with his hands in his pockets. while he was shamelessly nosy as a teenager, he’d grown into quite the reserved young adult who knew how to mind his business.

unfortunately, that new trait flew out the window the second he heard a familiar voice.

——— ♡ ———

“officer, please. he said he’d come back for me, i don’t feel safe going home… i don’t have family here, i don’t have anywhere else to stay-“

“look. you’re just scared, but you’re not injured.” the man stared down at you with an emotionless glare. “there’s nothing more we can do for you. the suspect assaulted two other women and they’re cooperating. why are you asking us for more when we’ve done everything we can so far?”

his voice was as cold as your quickly declining temperature, the rain soaking through your t-shirt and causing you to shiver.

“he.. he held a knife to my throat. there’s-“ you lifted your hand to lightly trace the marks on your neck that had been squeezed in place only an hour before. “he said he was going to kill me but…” you trailed off, the night’s events playing over and over in your mind with no indication of stopping the endless repeat. “but then he saw the lights and ran. he said he’d be back for me…”

the officer sighed.

“criminals often utter threats to make their victims submit to their words and give in. they want to commit their crimes as quickly as possible. we’ve gone over this, you didn’t know him. he doesn’t know anything about you-“

“but what if he does?!” you shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks before you’d even realized you were crying.

“listen ma’am, you need to calm down-“ the officer grabbed your wrist and you ripped it away from him, covering your mouth and staring in disbelief at the officer. you were in shock. you couldn’t process what was going on, let alone what had happened. you didn’t know what to do.

you froze as you felt an arm around your shoulder. a familiar voice spoke your name with tenderness and a low, empathetic tone that you’d never heard from him.

“i’ll take her home, officer. she’s my neighbour.”

while that was true, you were still surprised at the gesture. rintaro suna had been your neighbour for 3 years. the two of you were friendly; you’d been to each other’s homes a handful of times and sometimes would share a meal or drop off some food that was too much for one person.

you were both single, living alone in your apartments. although you weren’t super close, you always felt like he was a friend. a slightly distant, reserved, quiet friend, but a friend nonetheless.

the two men exchanged words for what felt like an eternity before suna squeezed you closer to him, guiding you out of the area and walking you towards your apartment.

you opened your mouth to say something. anything. even just a greeting, a thank you for the escort home.

when you stopped walking, he stayed close to you and looked down at your expression.

you opened your mouth to say something but the moment you did, you relived the traumatizing situation once again and fell into a deep panic.

“i-i-… no-n..” your words broke as you felt your body shaking. the cold rain was doing nothing to help your condition, and if you could describe it in any way, it was like losing control of your own sanity. you felt the panic wash over you as the phantom pressure of the knife pressed against your windpipe - your mind quite literally putting you in a choke hold.

“hey. i’m here now, you’re safe.”

the words echoed in your mind for a few seconds too long. you were hardly able to register their meaning while under the influence of your deep fear. you felt nothing but dread; impending pain and horror that you were sure was coming at any moment.

suna wrapped his arms around you protectively. he didn’t know why, he didn’t even really know what was going on, but he knew that all he wanted to do in that moment was to prevent anything further from hurting you.

you clutched at his hand and dug your nails into his skin. you didn’t mean to, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. suna would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he ignored it and held you close against him until you felt like you were okay to walk again.

when you caught your breath, you pulled his hand away from your face.

“i’m sorry… i don’t know what happened.” you choked out.

“you had a panic attack.” he said quietly. “we don’t need to talk about anything right now, though, okay? let me get you home. you went through something horrible and you’re freezing cold. it’s just a little more up the road, can you make it?”

you nodded, dropping your hands to your side and suna instinctively held onto the one closest to him.

“i’m scared to stay in my apartment… alone…” you whispered.

“you can stay with me.” suna said this with more certainty than suggestion. if anything, it was a statement. he was planning on having you stay over or even him staying at yours. whatever worked, he just didn’t want you to be alone and he knew you had nobody else to call.

he had never planned to get involved in your personal business like this. he didn’t want to be the weird neighbour, and he already worried if bringing you food some nights would make you uncomfortable.

those thoughts were always put to rest whenever you smiled at him and graciously accepted his gestures. your warm smile and the way your cheeks made your eyes squint when you were really happy was an image he’d always have trouble shaking out of his head for the following days.

suna snuck a glance at you as the two of you started to walk again. your smile that he swore could light up an entire city was nowhere to be seen.

he would do anything to see that smile on your face right now.

you looked like a shell of what you once were. he knew that you’d experienced something traumatic, but seeing you like this made him feel something hard in his chest.

you didn’t deserve that.

a painful squeeze developed deep inside him when he thought of what your face must have looked like when it had happened. a sweet girl who seemed to always bring out the bright side in any situation. you’d made him sweets (that he secretly broke his athletic diet for) when he’d lost an important game, and always made him smile whenever he saw you.

it was different right now. he felt anxious. he squeezed your hand in his and you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even seem to notice as you looked ahead with a blank stare.

on the other end, his touch alone was enough to give you the tiniest bit of comfort. it wasn’t much, and you were still scared, but it was enough to get you home.

——— ♡ ———

part 1 | part 2 (in progress) | part 3 (in progress)

[missanthropicprinciple]

The garlic allergy story that no one asked for.

Feel free to keep on scrolling. (CW: pain, blood mention)

I didn’t know that a person could develop an allergy until I was 21 and suddenly couldn’t eat garlic anymore. I’m a human dumpster with a cast iron stomach. I can even eat alliums like onions and garlic and leeks and then my colon says NOPE! Not being able to eat leeks in white sauce is very sad. I miss garlic bread. I miss deep dish pizza. I love Italian and Mexican food but can’t eat any of that cuisine if I didn’t make it myself from scratch. What’s worse is that I can no longer go to a restaurant and NOT have a five minute conversation with the wait staff and the chef and sometimes the manager about what options I have because every dish served at restaurants in America is laced with garlic. There’s a cute little restaurant that I can literally walk to and I kid you not literally everything on the menu has garlic in it. I know, because I telephoned first. At another overpriced restaurant down the road from me I can only eat two things on the entire menu. I dread people asking me out to dinner. I have limited take-out options, usually just Jimmy Johns, Five Guys, only two pizza places in the whole state, and limited selections from my favorite local Chinese restaurant. Luckily I’m a good cook and I do most of my own cooking anyhow otherwise I don’t even know what I would do.

The worst reaction I had to garlic was in 2018. I was visiting one of my friends when she used to live in a gorgeous little 1920s apartment in West Hollywood. We’d gone out for burgers at Umami. This idiot here — *points at self* — didn’t ask the wait staff if the burger contained garlic in the meat mixture. My friend and I had a great night, we watched a movie, everything was awesome. I wake up at 3am with horrendous bowel pain, 10 times worse than menstrual cramps. I get up to use the bathroom. I know it’s my garlic allergy. I try and mostly fail to take care of the situation (you know what I mean) and feel only slightly better.

I head back down the tiny narrow hallway and think to myself, “gee, I’m tired, I think I’ll lie down right here.” Which I did. But not so much lie down and rest as lose consciousness and collide head-first with the wall. Next thing I know, my friend is standing over me saying “OH MY GOD!” Apparently I said help. I do not remember saying help. Turns out I can only ask for assistance when I am literally unconscious. My friend says not to move. I’m actually feeling better at this point. Cure for bowel pain is severe head trauma, I guess. She asks me how many fingers she’s holding up. Three. I am correct. I turn over a bit and wonder why my head is all warm and wet. My entire forehead is covered with blood and it’s running into my hair. She go grabs a massive wad of toilet paper and I staunch the split right over my left eyebrow. Not sure if my head ricocheted or not but on the right side of my head that is a massive goose-egg. Despite this, I’m quite chipper. She comes back with an ice pack in a Hanukkah sock. She offers to take me to the ER and I say, “nah it’s fine.” In hindsight, this was not a good idea.

My friend and I stay up for an hour so she can make sure I’m ok. I bandage my head with a regular bandage and go to sleep. She wakes me up every hour to make sure I’m not slipping into a coma and the next day we go out for butterfly bandages. So there I am, exhausted, wearing bike shorts and a neon crop top and the purple lipstick I bought the day before, I’ve got a giant goose-egg on one side of my head and two butterfly bandages on the other, and I look at myself in the bathroom mirror of a WeHo sex toy shop and I just have to take a picture.

[callivich]

This took me a while because I am terrible at coming up with prompts, but I wish you would write a fic where, Lip and Mickey acknowledge that they are friends and are important to each other. 🖤👬 I loved your post-anniversary fic and I just need more mickey & lip content!

Aww, thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed the post-anniversary fic. So, here’s a little sequel to that, set the morning after:

(This is canon-divergent as I’m changing it so either Frank doesn’t die or they aren’t informed until after this.)

————

Lip (8:42am): need me to come and get one of you to pick up the ambulance?

Mickey frowns at the message on his phone that had woken him up. It’s too early for this. Ian is, of course, already awake and….changing into his running clothes? Ugh. “Your brother texted.” Mickey mumbles, watching Ian pull on a t-shirt.

“You’re awake.” Ian smiles at him and throws himself on top of Mickey, kissing him softly. “Happy first day of our second year of marriage.”

“Mmm, yeah. Same to you. You seriously going on a run?” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Ian’s shorts and begins to pull them down.

“Yeah, only because I thought you’d want to sleep for longer. Was gonna come back, wake you up nice and slow and then-”

“Well I’m awake now, no thanks to Lip.”

Ian fumbles for his own phone, smiling as Mickey’s hands go lower, he reads the message that Lip had sent to both of them. “I’ll go.”

“Nah, man, go run. I’ll pick up the ambulance. Haven’t got any pick-ups till 11, so,” he smacks Ian’s ass, “we can start this second year of marriage off with a bang. Literally.” He wiggles his eyebrows and bites his lip.

Ian smirks at Mickey’s cheesy line and kisses him, “Sounds good,” before rolling off him, and pulling his shorts back up. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Don’t shower when you get back. I like it when you’re all sweaty.”

Ian laughs as he leaves. Mickey grins as he thinks of the fun they’ll be having later.

————

Grabbing his phone, he fires off a quick text to Lip - (8:50): meet you out front in half an hour?

Lip (8:50): k

Mickey showers quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and one of Ian’s hoodies, and drinking the cup of coffee Ian had left him on the counter in the kitchen - next to a note that says ‘🖤 love you :) 🖤’ Fucking dork, Mickey thinks, but he smiles and shoves the note in his pocket.

Lip is already waiting for Mickey when he makes it outside. In the past, he would dread spending any amount of time alone with Lip. But as he slides into the passenger seat, he finds that he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he usually does and Lip’s stupid smirking face doesn’t make him want to throw a punch. Maybe it’s the promise of sex with his husband that has put him in a good mood? Or maybe he doesn’t hate Lip as much as he thinks? Nah, that can’t be right.

“Morning. Surprised it’s you up this early and not Ian. Thought you’d be worn out after last night?” Lip begins the drive towards the Southside, his fingers tapping on the wheel.

“You really wanna know if I’m too tired after getting railed by your little brother?”

“Mickey.” Lip groans, “Fuck no. I was asking if you were hungover. You were wasted.”

“Oh. Nah. M’fine. Ian’s gone for a run. He was gonna let me sleep in but you woke me up with that text.”

“Hazard of having a baby, you forget everyone else isn’t awake at the crack of dawn everyday.”

Mickey shrugs, and they fall into a comfortable silence, and he notices that he’s still not feeling that familiar sense of annoyance that he usually does with Lip. He’s definitely going soft. Ian’s fault probably. He supposes that Lip has been alright recently - helping with the wedding anniversary as though it was no big deal, acting like it was normal that Mickey had asked him for help. There were no sarcastic comments or dirty looks like Mickey was intruding in the Gallagher family. No, he just asked what he could do and helped round up the other siblings to help too. He treated Mickey like he was part of the family. Even Mickey can reluctantly admit that. Even if it is through gritted teeth.

“Thanks for…y’know, driving us home last night and helping me organise the party.” Mickey is staring out the window, his voice low. He doesn’t know why he’s saying this, but he knows Ian would like that he did. And maybe there’s a tiny part of him that likes that he can say this and it doesn’t feel awful. “Especially after that…uh…fight.”

————

Mickey’s words take Lip by surprise and he’s speechless for a moment. He supposes this is as close to an apology as Mickey would ever give him. And to be fair, Lip knows he needs to say sorry too. But he realises he can’t quite say it either. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. And it won’t happen again.”

Mickey snorts, “Don’t know how you can be sure of that.”

“Well, Ian said - and I quote - ‘hit my husband again, I’ll fucking kill you’. So. Yeah, ain’t gonna happen again. At least from my end. And he’s right. Shouldn’t be getting into it like that with family.”

Mickey is silent for a moment, sneaking a quick glance at Lip. “He said that?”

“Yup.”

“Ok. Then, yeah, I won’t hit you again.” He says it easily, with a firm nod. “Probably. If you don’t do anything to piss me off.”

Lip rolls his eyes, “Yeah, because it’s me who’s the annoying fucker.”

“Glad you can admit that.”

And he can’t believe it, but he genuinely laughs at that. Lip can count on one hand the times he actually found Mickey funny. Most of the time he thinks he’s a dick, but lately….well, there’s been moments when he’s not been that bad and, dare he say it, he’s actually not minded being around Mickey. Sure, these have also been countered by moments when he absolutely wants to kill him but there are less and less of those. He must be adjusting to the fact that they’re family now - Mickey’s not some scary, dirty kid from the neighbourhood anymore, he’s not just Mandy’s brother, he’s Ian’s husband. He’s Lip’s brother-in-law. And that means something. So, yeah, he’s gonna treat him like a brother, like family. (As much as he can that is, because Lip isn’t a saint and sometimes Mickey really is very fucking annoying.) But he’s gonna try. That’s the important thing. And it seems like Mickey is going to try too.

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, well, got a reputation to uphold. Can’t let you think I’ve gone fucking soft or some shit.”

“Wouldn’t ever think in a million years that the guy who planned a romantic surprise anniversary party for his husband with accordion music and dancers was soft.”

“Fuck off.” But there’s no heat in his words, he’s just got a pleased look on his face. Probably thinking back to the night before.

————

They get stuck in traffic - due to roadworks where there seems to be less work and more standing around going on. Mickey checks his phone and scrolls through the pictures he took last night, that get steadily and steadily blurrier as the night goes on. It really was a great night. He feels his face flush in happiness just thinking about it. He can’t wait to get home.

Lip is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again, Mickey notices he looks tired. He thinks back to Lip’s admission that he’d slipped up and had beer, and wonders if he’s had another slip. He could ask him straight out, Ian probably would, but that feels like a step too far. So he decides to hint at it.

“Everything alright with you and Tami?”

“Oh, yeah, you know….just a lot going on.”

“Right.” He shifts in his seat, glances towards his brother-in-law, and sighs. “Yeah, lot of difficult shit going on. Stressful shit.”

Mickey thinks he’s going to have to say it but apparently it’s obvious what he’s thinking. Lip stops tapping the steering wheel. “You fishing to see if I want a drink?”

“Do you?”

“I….sometimes. A bit. I’m going to meetings so.” He shrugs, avoiding Mickey’s eyes.

“Tami know?”

“Sort of.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“There’s just been so much going on. We’ve kinda talked but not properly.”

The traffic starts to move and soon they are almost at the Alibi. “Talking…communicating. All that shit, it fucking sucks but it’s important.” Mickey feels awkward talking to Lip like this, but strangely it doesn’t feel too uncomfortable. “Don’t put it off, it’ll be worse the longer you wait.”

“I know.” Lip pulls up in front of the ambulance. “Thanks.”

“Whatever.” He peers at Lip cautiously. “You’re not gonna tell me you love me again are you?”

“Was hoping you might not remember that considering how drunk you were last night.”

“You’re soft as hell. I’d stick around to make fun of you but I gotta hot date with my husband.” He moves to get out the car, “Thanks for the ride, man.” He gives Lip the finger and a cheeky smile as he walks over to the ambulance, shouting “see ya!” over his shoulder.

—————

For the ask meme: I wish you would write a fic where….

[whileyoursleeping]

Here

Hello all, I wrote a lil oneshot post-canon for the season 4 finale. Shameless fluff. You’ve been warned. This has also been posted on AO3 - link HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31520699

TW: Mentions of the shooting; mentions of PTSD.

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

Buck wears socks to bed.

It’s disturbing in a way. Eddie doesn’t know anyone above the age of ten who still wears socks to bed – except, apparently, Buck.

Buck is also still sleeping on his couch.

Eddie’s been home for a week. He’s mastered the on-off motion of his sling for the shower, he’s sleeping okay – as okay as anyone can while being literally fucking shot for no good reason, and not even in Afghanistan, at that – and he’s not in significant amounts of pain, anymore. The meds have taken care of that, and he’s taking them dutifully, because he might not like them but Chris needs him. Chris needs him more a little stoned than he does bedridden from pain.

But it’s been a week, and Buck is still sleeping on his couch.

It’s not even comfortable. Buck’s not small enough to fit on there without cramping up. And Eddie just – kind of hasn’t told him to go home, and Buck just kind of isn’t going home, he’s more or less just ferrying his things back and forth between Eddie’s coffee table and his own apartment, studiously avoiding eye contact each time, as if Eddie is going to catch his eye and say – well, say what? “Go home? Thanks for taking care of my son and carrying my lifeless body to the fire truck and risking your fucking neck again to save my life and keeping a vigil – but go home?” Not fucking likely.

So he’s sleeping on Eddie’s couch. And Eddie’s not sure how to approach it – or if he even wants to approach it. Buck was scared. He said as much, and other people said as much, and Eddie remembers Buck picking him up and putting him in the ambulance. Fire truck? He doesn’t remember the details, he just – remembers Buck picking him up.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s trying to be after that whole “follow your own heart” crap Carla pulled on him – he doesn’t particularly want Buck to leave. Buck saved his life, and Eddie feels weirdly safer with him here. It’s nice to have him around in the mornings – even if he looks tired. Even if Eddie’s couch has not been useable as a couch in over a week now.

He wanders into the living room that morning to find that Buck is already rubbing his eyes, sleepily, looking totally worn out and like he’d like to go back to sleep, but can’t. He sits when he hears Eddie enter – a dog standing at attention.

“Okay?” he checks worriedly.

Eddie smiles drowsily. “You know the pain meds keep me pleasantly high almost all day, right?”

“Yeah.” Buck doesn’t look soothed. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.” Eddie pats his shoulder on the way past, yawning. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

~*~

Buck is exhausted.

Eddie knows this because Eddie wakes up a lot at night and goes wandering. He does this because despite the pain pills, he’s just not moving enough to be tired, and his normal army sleep schedule never really left him. He’s like a fucked-up, traumatised meerkat – awake every two to three hours, patrolling the perimeter, looking for enemies.

Just so happens that his perimeter is the length of his hallway between Chris’s room and the couch, where Buck is decidedly not resting peacefully. His enemy, at the moment? The Roomba. Chris has stuck several dozen googly eyes to it and, at one point, had armed it with a butter knife. It’s mildly terrifying. Butter-knife-less at the moment – but terrifying. Eddie squints at it as he moves towards the kitchen.

(“Because it’s funny, Dad,” he’d giggled. “Maybe it’ll make Buck laugh.”

Buck had laughed, but in a strained, I’m-so-tired-I-want-to-cry kind of way. Eddie’s dreading coming off his pain pills for the pure fact that it’ll probably be him next. PTSD is a bitch.)

He was going to get water, but that requires moving through the living room. Buck is crashed out on the couch – his duffel is spilling over on the floor, his phone facedown on the coffee table. Eddie can see him relatively well with the street lights and moon lighting up the smallish living room – he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping peacefully. In fact, even as Eddie watches, Buck twitches.

He goes ramrod still, abruptly not thinking about his heavily-armed Roomba or meerkat analogies. He is suddenly, painfully, sober – the pain pills feel burned out of him as he watches Buck twist, his fingers twitching and then curling into the duvet, face scrunched.

A nightmare. Buck is having a nightmare. Eddie’s not high anymore. The pills are no longer filling his head with cotton and fuzz – every single sense feels alight like it hasn’t in two weeks, tuned in to Buck, struggling, on the couch.

What’s he supposed to do? What can he do?

He watches, alarmed, as Buck gasps and jerks – his stupid socked feet flail and kick into the arm of the couch, and the duvet goes flying back. Buck’s upright, at least semi-upright, on one elbow, panting and scrabbling against the thin, shitty mattress – for what? Purchase? A hand to hold? A memory to cling to, something to soothe him through the remainder of the night?

The room’s quiet. Eddie’s frozen, unsure of what to do. Is this what it was like after the tsunami?

After a moment, Buck makes a sound – a whimper, or a cry, or some awful hybrid of the two – and collapses back, rolls onto his side, away from the TV, and curls up, not bothering to adjust the duvet. His feet – he’s wearing white socks tonight – flex, toes clenching.

Buck drags the corner of the duvet up over his face. The next noise he makes is very clearly a quiet sob and Eddie – oh, he cannot stand this. He’s not going to watch it any longer.

It’s not like he doesn’t know Buck hasn’t been sleeping, at least not well. He did the first night – eleven hours, actually – but every night after that has been plagued with nightmares. He’s heard Buck rustling around or pacing and watched him try to put on a brave face every morning at breakfast, and he can’t do it anymore.

His feet cross the floorboards. He sits on the edge of the couch – Buck flinches – and puts his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, rubs gently.

Buck sniffles. He doesn’t move for a long time, keeps the duvet up over his face. He doesn’t make any more noises, but his shoulders shake, and Eddie remembers – I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot. I’m sorry, I should’ve held it together.

Eddie wonders when anyone reasonably expected Buck to hold it together.

Buck moves suddenly – his fingers grip at Eddie’s, and they’re shaking. He holds on and – well, if Buck wants to hold hands, it’s not like they haven’t done it before. Eddie held his hand for an hour or more while they were getting him out from under the ladder truck two years ago. Eddie’s happy to hold his hand.

He doesn’t know how to help. Buck’s still sniffling, his face angled away from Eddie’s. He’s happy to take the comfort, but not happy to let Eddie know he’s crying, apparently.

They sit like that for a while. Eddie’s helpless and almost angry for it. It’s not like he hasn’t suffered – he has. It’s going to take therapy, physical and mental, to get past this. But Buck – Buck watched it happen. Watched him almost die. Buck’s not stoned and he wasn’t shot and there’s no buffer between him and the memories. For the first time, Eddie is angry at the team – how has no one noticed? How has no one cared?

Buck drags a hand across his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Bet you’re sick of me crying.”

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, I – I am, but not for the reason you’re thinking.”

Buck nods into the pillow. His legs flex – he has to be cold; the air is definitely cool and Buck hates cold weather with a passion. He’s wearing socks and boxers and a hoodie and all of that thoroughly confuses Eddie – he wants to arrange the duvet properly but he can’t with Buck clinging to his hand. That’s fine too.

He thinks about it for a moment. Problem – Buck is sad; Buck is scared. Buck is clearly traumatised. Nobody appears to have addressed that last one.

Solution. Well, Chris seems to help a lot. But Chris is asleep, and Eddie can’t really properly address the trauma thing.

But he can maybe make Buck feel less alone.

He removes his hand from Buck’s shoulder, clumsily adjusts the duvet, and then climbs under it, adjusting until his side is pressed to Buck’s back and he can feel Buck trembling horribly against him. His legs twitch; his socks brush Eddie’s bare feet.

“Why do you wear socks to bed?” Eddie asks.

There’s a long pause. Then, “That’s what you want to know?”

“Sure.”

“I… don’t know?”

Eddie makes a face at the ceiling. Buck hasn’t rolled over. “You don’t know?” he asks dubiously. “Are your feet cold?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you wear socks to bed in summer?”

“I… sort of do it all year round – Eddie, what’re you doing?”

He doesn’t know, truthfully, beyond trying to cheer Buck up. Although, maybe he just – needs to cry? Sometimes when Chris is upset he just needs to cry. No solutions, just… comfort.

He pushes against Buck’s back more, and, because he can’t reach Buck’s hands like this, links their ankles together. Buck shifts – but only to stop the knobs of their bones rubbing uncomfortably. He sighs, shakily, but when breath finally leaves his lungs entirely, he almost feels steadier.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he whispers.

~*~

Buck rolls during the night, a soft breath leaving him. Eddie’s only aware of it because it ghosts across his throat – Buck’s rolled towards him.

The mattress shifts. Buck is deliciously warm against Eddie’s side – his socked feet brush against Eddie’s shins, a few times, almost deliberately. Buck sighs again, settles.

The air goes still. Eddie can smell something new and different, faintly – the couch bed smells like Buck, like the woody, fresh scent of his aftershave and a little spicy and like Buck’s own shampoo. There’s something indefinable about it – something that’s just how Buck smells.

Eddie yawns. His jaw cracks. His shoulder, at the moment, doesn’t hurt, even when he shifts and looks for Buck’s hand, clumsily – he finds it, pulls it up until he can link their fingers together and rest their joined palms on his own belly. He squeezes. Are you there?

A second passes before Buck squeezes back. His palms are rough and hot and his thumb nervous where it brushes Eddie’s knuckles.

Yes. I’m here.

Eddie yawns. He goes back to sleep.

~*~

The sunlight punching through the living room window wakes him up.

He blinks. He’s on his back still – his feet are cold. When he turns his head to the side, the first thing he sees is Buck’s face – buried somewhere in the vicinity of Eddie’s shoulder, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

He’s drooling. It’s a little cute. Eddie raises his head – his shoulder twinges unhappily – and looks to the end of the couch.

Yep. Buck’s still wearing socks. His legs are curled up, almost like he’s trying to keep warm, and he’s more or less pressed to Eddie’s side, but not quite on top of him.

Eddie’s struck with the sudden though that if his shoulder wasn’t injured, he’d roll over – put an arm over Buck and let Buck hide as long as he needed to. He can’t do that right now, and the impulse is frightening if only because it doesn’t come from the so-called brotherly love he’s continued to tell himself is what he feels for Buck.

It’s not so frightening he can’t deal with it though. Quietly. And he might not be able to hug Buck right now – but Buck slept through till morning, the first time in more than a week in all likelihood. He even looks peaceful.

If Eddie does pursue this – whatever this is, this little, fledgling, hopeful thing in his chest – he can only hope that Buck reciprocates. It’ll take time, of course. Plenty of it. But – Buck is already Chris’s other parent in the ways that matter and he’s kept bedside vigils and they slept here, last night, holding hands for the majority of it. Is there a lot left to think about? Eddie doesn’t think so.

He raises his head again. Looks down.

Except those socks, maybe. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

[os-hyoideum]

"I have come to a coclusion." Shinsou Hitoshi x fem!plus size!Reader

"i figured out why you're so into me… it's because wherever you grab it feels like a boob" (my inspo, in the form of my stupid thought - I wanted to do a few more of my fav characters, but we'll see)

Word count: 1263 Content: Pro!Shinsou (over 18), fluff (I think), funny (I hope), slighly just suggestive at the end (letting out a perv a bit, but just teensy bit), plus size/chubby/fat Reader, Reader has nipple piercings (I just think everyone -who wants them ofc- deserves them), Reader has big? (heavy) boobies

a/n: Like I'm never inspired to write, this time I just did (and had fun, surprisingly... it's that Shiso brainrot 😔). This is literally THE SECOND time I have ever written something (that isn't an academic essay) in English. Also, THE FIRST time using the second person in writing, but I wanted to try. It's just some quick fic, so enjoy! Also, sorry for, perhaps, a weird use of commas, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to put them correctly everywhere.

Hitoshi let out a relieved sigh once he stepped over the threshold to your shared apartment.

It wasn’t anything particularly special, with its open space kitchen-living room combo, bathroom, and decently sized bedroom, but it was a home that brought him comfort after hard days (or nights) of work. Particularly, when it was an unexpected task of giving the talk to aspiring heroes at his former high school - UA.

It was a bit weird for him to get home during late afternoon, as his usual night patrols made him used to getting back at rather early morning hours, but still, he was just glad to be finally in the comfort of his own place.

After taking his shoes off and walking a bit more inside, he was met with a sight to behold (by his own requirements).

There, laying face down on a couch was you, clothed only in a pair of black panties and a sports bra. Electric fan, standing on a side table, was blowing straight onto your exposed back. Hitoshi supposed it wasn’t anything particularly strange, given it was the middle of summer and, additionally, you must have been tired from your work trip; nevertheless, he decided to ask.

“Well, hello there,” he started, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow, “That’s a nice view of your ass, but why are you basically naked?”

You propped yourself on your elbows and turned your head back to look at him. The breeze from the fan stung your eyes a bit, so you sat up straight and faced Hitoshi properly. Partly, to just be able to admire him (like usual) and, partly, so the breeze would still be directed towards your back.

“First of all: it’s hot as hell today. I have never been more grateful for our AC… that still was not enough, but well…” You listed lifting one finger up.

“Okay, fair.” Hitoshi nodded. He looked at you lifting another finger.

“Second of all: I had a little, hmm… mirror sesh? I guess it could be called like that.”

Hitoshi knew exactly what you meant and instantly was put on alert. He did not know what to expect from the outcome. You weren’t particularly insecure, but drops in confidence happen to everyone, at the best of times. Having a truce with your body didn’t mean an endless peace.

He looked at you with intensity, looking for any indicators of feeling low, but relaxed a bit seeing you being at least in a neutral, if not even good, mood.

“Oh? Is that so?”

You stood up, the slight jiggle of your soft body not concealed by anything. He had seen you bare many times before (like, a lot of times), but still caught himself admiring the patterns your stretch marks drew upon your skin. He knew it’s not anything special, quite the natural part of the human body, yet he still saw some intricate artistic thought behind it.

“Yes,” you said, putting one hand on your hip and gesticulating with the other, “and you know how I, personally, feel about myself. Like, sometimes it’s good, sometimes bad, nothing new, right?” You asked rather rhetorically, to which Hitoshi still nodded slightly, listening from behind a bar piece separating your kitchen and living space.

“BUT,” you emphasized and pointed a finger at him,” today I was wondering in particular, why YOU like THIS-” you paused to encircle your body with one hand “-so much. And I have come to a conclusion”

Hitoshi hummed and took a sip of iced coffee he took from the fridge in the meantime.

“Yeah? And what’s your conclusion then?”

“You are so attracted to me because everywhere you touch feels like a boob.”

That was an unexpected sentence that left your lips; so unexpected actually, that Hitoshi almost choked on his coffee. Luckily though, he did not. Not paying much attention to your could-have-died significant other, you continued with your reasonings.

“Arm? Boob.” You squeezed your upper arm to emphasize. “Tummy?” A little squeeze creating a roll between your fingers. “Boob.” You propped your leg on the couch to poke at your inner thigh. “Thigh? Boob. Calf? Boob. See? Everything’s a boobie!”

Hitoshi just laughed looking at your excited expression, he assumed from coming to such boob-tastic revelation. He fixed his black headband, keeping his beautiful hair out of his face, and pointed at your leg.

“Well, I don’t remember your boobs being quite so hairy. Though my memory might be failing, after all this time.” He said with a chuckle, hinting at your two weeks of separation, due to your dreadful trip.

“How DARE you!” You gasped dramatically and threw a pillow that Hitoshi expertly caught with a laugh. “Are you shaming my body hair?”

“Oh, of course not,” he smirked playfully, “I quite like your hairy legs.”

With a slightly frustrated groan, you fell on the couch and loudly sighing slid off onto the floor. Sitting behind your low coffee table, you tilted your head down and glared at Hitoshi from under your eyebrows. He knew someone could have gotten scared had they been on the receiving end, but spending so much time with you, he was used to it and just found it amusing. Seeing the lack of reaction from him, you just stood up and walked towards the bar to stand in front of him.

“If you don’t stop, I WILL sit on you.”

Hitoshi quirked an eyebrow at you and turned around. He took a step towards the kitchen sink and, after turning the water on, splashed his face.

“What are you doing?” You asked, not quite expecting him to start washing his face in the middle of a conversation.

After taking a small, clean kitchen towel to dry himself off, he looked you straight in the eye.

“Prepping your seat, baby.”

You stared at him for a few seconds with wide eyes, before slowly clapping and nodding with approval.

“Huh… outstanding move. True dedication to a joke.”

“I wasn’t joking.” But you already knew that.

“Damn…” You started, holding his intense gaze. “Okay, Mr Shinsou, you’re on.”

He looked you up and down with an expression of a man starved.

“You’re in for a ride…” But you already knew that too. “Mrs Shinsou.”

“I’m not Mrs Shinsou.”

“Not yet.” You knew it was mostly playful banter since neither of you was in a rush to make your relationship official. It was comfortable enough, to the point actually, that others did mistake you for a married couple at times. So it turned into a joke, being called by his name.

“Alright…” You smiled softly at him before your expression became much more devious. “Wanna take a shower before I take my rightful place upon my throne?”

Without waiting for his response, you pulled your sports bra over your head. In an instant, Hitoshi’s gaze fell onto your heavy chest. Decorated with shining metal nipples perked up, due to the slight chill from the AC and the fan, both working at full capacity. You turned around and walked towards the bathroom with a nice sway in your hips. In the doorway, you slid your panties off and threw them at Hitoshi with a heated look from behind your shoulder.

He caught them with one hand and, looking you straight in the eyes, brought them to his face. He took a long breath in, taking in your scent mixed with sweat that almost made him dizzy with desire.

He put his cup into the sink and, with your panties in hand, followed you into the bathroom.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.