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themultifanshipper · 3 months

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Hi I love your writing!!Could you maybe do the 🟡 prompt from your list with Oscar. I’m thinking maybe a female driver reader enemies to lovers kind of situation but it is really up to you

Thanks💜

You and Oscar didn't usually find yourselves battling on track, because you didn't usually qualify close to each other. But this time… this time you had locked out the front row at your home race, and it was going to be a blood bath.

Warnings: hate sex, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, the usual really, although I find the ending surprisingly fluffy for me but oh well, also Oscar is kind of a dick in this ngl, also Bestfriend!Lando bc I cannot seperate them even in fiction

Requested from my prompt list

Obviously this was a fight you refused to lose. You were in front of your home crowd, qualifying p2 behind your teammate for one of the rare times your car hadn't failed you half way through qualifying.

These days you felt like you were driving a fucking Williams.

Anyway, the lights went out and for the next hour and a half the cameras did not leave you two for even a second, the battle for p1 being so intense. You'd lost count of how many times you had overtaken each other, and both of you had damage. Part of your front wing was missing, your DRS was glitching, and Oscar had floor damage. Both of you were too stubborn to come into the pits so you kept going despite your engineers' orders, and on the last corner of the last lap, you brake checked Oscar.

You don't even remember doing it. All you remember is the crowd roaring your name as the McLaren crew lifted you out of your seat and carried you over their heads chanting the song they had affectionately dubbed yours.

“She's a maniac, maniac on the floor! And she's driving like she never has before!”

You remember the podium ceremony, Lando had overtaken Oscar thanks to you and was spraying you in the face from his p2 spot, as Oscar scowled and sprayed Zak, who stood off to the side, ready to give you two a stern talking to after the ceremony.

You remember being yelled at in his office. Something about him smoothing it over with the stewards so that you didn't get a penalty at your home race, at which point Oscar also started yelling, at Zak, at you, and at the unfairness of it all.

You remember going out to a club with Lando, the heavy bass of the music (and the alcohol) transporting you to another realm of existence as you danced together.

It's when you'd had one two many tequila shots (courtesy of Lando's fat bank account) that you thought it would be a good idea to call Oscar.

Unfortunately for him, he answered.

“Hello? Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning? Has something happened? Is Lando in a coma? No? Then don't fucking call me”

And with that he hung up on you. So you rang again, not one for giving up so easily.

“For the love of Christ, WHAT?!”

“Oscar! Why aren't you out celebrating your podium?” you said loudly over the music.

“Yeah Oscar I miss partying with youuuuu” Lando whined into the phone over your shoulder.

“Fucking leave me alone!” Oscar shouted, and he hung up again, but even though the club was loud, you definitely heard his voice crack.

So you and Lando had the marvelous idea to go to his hotel (you were staying at your own place, with Lando, it being your home race) and knock on his door. And he opened it to the sight of you and Lando clinging onto each other for dear life.

“Fucking hell you two look like shit, what have you been doing?” his eyes roamed your figures, staying a bit too long on yours, and on your ridiculous dress (picked by Lando of course) that probably exposed more of you than it covered.

The two of you barged into his room and sat on his bed. While he just stared you down.

“Well?... what the fuck do you want?” he scowled.

“We came to ask why you're moping here instead of celebrating your podium with us” Lando pouted.

“What is there to celebrate? You-” he pointed at you “ruined my race by making a dangerous move. I'm not celebrating a fucking p3 when I would have won fair and square!”

You and Lando looked at each other, which was a mistake, because you immediately started giggling uncontrollably.

“GET OUT!” Oscar shouted louder than you'd ever heard him, and Lando immediately ran for the door.

Mopey grumbling Oscar was hilarious, but you'd come to find that furious Oscar was downright terrifying when he needed to be.

You weren't scared though, you'd always found angry Oscar incredibly hot, and right now you'd had enough alcohol to make sure you couldn't run even if you tried.

The furious expression on his face as he stared you down did make you squirm though, and your thighs clenched together involuntarily.

His eyes were drawn to the movement, quickly scanning the expanse of your bare thighs before snapping back up to your face and taking a step towards you.

"Well?! Anything to say for yourself? A fucking apology perhaps? Or even just a reason as to why you're still sitting on my bed in that slutty excuse of a dress instead of running away like Lando?”

You were outraged at his words. How dare he say that.

“How fucking dare you!” you managed to stand up on wobbly legs to shove him backwards. Unsurprisingly he didn't move an inch. “This dress is perfectly fine! It's a club dress!”

“Oh please! It's indecent, I can almost see your-”

“SECONDLY!” you interrupted before he could finish that particular sentence, the thought of him actually seeing you so exposed slightly overwhelming you “I didn't run away because I’m not fucking scared of a dickhead like you!”

He stepped closer to you, so close that if he extended his arm he could touch you if he wanted to. His eyebrows were lost in his hairline, and there was a fire in his eyes you had rarely seen there before, as he shook with rage.

“If you’re not scared of me then why are you trembling like a fucking leaf? Is it because you're cold in that pathetic excuse of an outfit?”

“You seem awfully focused on my dress for someone who claims to be so nonchalant” you purred, stepping closer.

“Fuck you.” he scowled.

“Ooh is that a proposition?” you smirked, your bodies were almost touching now.

“Careful, don't get too cocky, I'm obviously not as easy for it as you” he spat, eyes darting down to where goosebumps had risen over the exposed skin of your breasts.

“How could I not get cocky?” you leaned in close to whisper “I'm the one who got a first place trophy a few hours ago…” and with that, you pushed past him and started walking towards the door.

But just before you could grab the handle, you were pushed flat against the door roughly and you gasped as Oscar growled in your ear.

“Fuck you, and fuck your trophy, and fuck this fucking dress!”

He wasted no time spinning you around and slamming you back against the door, plastering himself against your body and slotting a thigh between yours, forcing you to spread your legs for him.

“This dress is going to be useless by the time I’m fucking done with you”

You were reduced to a puddle of mush as his hands ripped the flimsy fabric, flinging it across the room and his mouth immediately went to your tits, mouthing over them and groaning into the skin. One of his hands went up to grab your hair and the other grabbed your ass hard enough to leave bruises. He tensed his thigh as you grinded on it shamelessly, whimpering as the friction of his jeans felt like heaven against your barely covered cunt.

His mouth went up to your neck, licking and sucking the skin it found in it's path before pausing and looking at you, his eyes hooded and mouth gasping for air as he panted into your mouth.

“I’m going to make you pay for the race, sweetheart, I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

And ruin you he did. Your body was on fire, your thighs were fucking soaked, and Oscar had you arched into the bed, ass up in the air as he pounded into you while holding your head up to look at yourself in the mirror that was facing the bed.

You looked like sin personified, makeup running down your face, drool and tears making a mess of the sheets as yet another orgasm wracked through your body.

He pulled out and turned you over, spreading your legs, weeping cunt on display for him.

He moaned at the sight of your used body, marks and bruises blooming all over it.

“Fuck you're so perfect for me, I can't get enough of this pussy” he slid his tip through your slit a couple of times, just enough to make you start begging again, before sliding back in to the hilt. “Fuck- begging so perfect for me when you're not running your mouth” he growled before pounding into you mercilessly and rubbed the meat of his palm over your clit. The friction was too much as your hands flew to his shoulders and your nails dug in, making him groan as his pace faltered and he grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head.

His face hovered inches above yours, sweat dripping off him onto you as he pounded into you for all he was worth.

“Too much…” you gasped “Osc, I can't”

“Shhhhh baby, you can do one more for me, I know you can.”

He kissed you, much too soft in comparison to how he was railing you into next week. And he kissed away the tears on your cheeks as his hand let your wrists go in favour of wrapping his arms around you to lift you up into his lap, deepening the angle of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure.

He buried his head in your shoulder as he rolled his hips, fingers going back to play with your clit as you writhed above him.

“Oscar fuck… So deep… I’m so close, fuck don't stop!” You wrapped your arms around him as you finally kissed him without thinking, making him groan into your mouth as his hips never faltered.

He wouldn't dream of stopping, he’d been waiting for this moment a long time, and now that he had you, he was going to do everything he could to keep you.

“Come for me love, come on my cock, good girl…” he panted into your mouth.

It was like a volcano erupting as you came around him. You clamped down hard around his cock and it threw him over the edge as well, biting into the meat of your shoulder, so deep he could almost taste blood. You gasped and your hips bucked into his gently as you both rode the waves of your highs together.

Once the two of you regained a sense of where you were, wrapped in each other’s arms and covered in sweat, you just looked at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

Daylight was already filtering in through the blinds and for the first time, you noticed the dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Neither of you wanted to let go, despite supposedly being bitter rivals. The two of you surged forwards at the same time and his lips were soft against yours as you clung to each other, hands grasping every piece of flesh they could reach. And you didn't let go until the sun was well and truly up, and Oscar ignored the calls from the team to say they were going to leave without him if he didn't get there soon.

“Stay with me for a few days?” You whispered into his neck as you lay under the covers with him.

“Okay” he kissed the top of your head sleepily, drifting off after an intense race weekend (wink wink).

You checked your phone for messages, only seeing one from Lando.

‘Do I even need to ask where you slept last night?’

Despite the obvious bait from your best friend, you decided to reply:

“Nope... but fyi I haven't actually slept at all ;) ’

You turned your phone off, and snuggled back under the covers with Oscar, who was already snoring softly behind you.

#my thots #oscar thots #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #formula 1 #op81 #request #ask

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writing-mlm · 9 months

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Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life.

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could.

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now.

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool.

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in.

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view.

“Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him.

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant.

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

“Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs.

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter.

“No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink.

“Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop.

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course.

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop.

“In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop.

“I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet.

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug.

Not to mention his swords.

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use.

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle.

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes.

“Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory.

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds!

Not that you’ve ever done that.

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine.

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed.

“A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!”

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand.

“Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious.

“Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now.

“Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl.

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred.

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump.

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight.

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes.

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,”

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest.

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body.

“He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you.

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction.

“I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you.

“You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care.

“If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.”

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian.

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body.

“He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff.

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door.

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door.

“…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it.

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor.

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table.

Perfect timing.

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack.

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record.

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together.

But, still. It’s just bros being bros.

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon.

“God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number.

“Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl.

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

“Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking.

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table.

“You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face.

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!”

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward.

“Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school.

“I know, abbā.” You strain.

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker.

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.”

“I’m busy, mom.”

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs.

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube.

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table.

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video.

“Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room.

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas.

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia.

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really.

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods.

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket.

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

“He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year.

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges.

“Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault.

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you.

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!”

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you.

“Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket.

“I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does.

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket.

“Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end.

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please.

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything.

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down.

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in.

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day.

“Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them.

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine.

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much.

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended.

“You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him.

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation.

“Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag.

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh.

“You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do.

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator.

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.”

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator.

“That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug.

“Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage.

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back.

“Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.”

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that.

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out.

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.”

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room.

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards.

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands.

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink.

“It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though.

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door.

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running.

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat.

“Okay, be there in a second.”

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there.

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room.

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little.

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them.

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s.

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks.

“I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?”

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy.

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties.

“Good,” You hum.

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that.

“It’s not,” He shrugs.

“Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back.

“It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns.

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat.

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog.

“Richard.” Damian greets.

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up.

“We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could.

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip.

“Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep.

“And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari.

“As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it.

“She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic.

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife.

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch.

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

“She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?”

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably.

“I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back.

“Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.”

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that.

“(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects.

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.”

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred.

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face.

“You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid.

“When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.”

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles.

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer.

“No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown.

“No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered.

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does.

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace.

“Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?”

“No.” He snaps.

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?”

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs.

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed.

“We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense.

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you.

“Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze.

“Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god.

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

“Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew.

“I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner.

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.”

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others.

“Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.”

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh.

“If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him.

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was.

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.”

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner.

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out.

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting.

“Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips.

“Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful.

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that.

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.”

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason.

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room.

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now.

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone.

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right.

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet.

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture.

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room.

He wants to gag.

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look.

“A word with the parents.” He corrects.

“I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you.

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping.

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too.

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room.

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor.

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear.

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking.

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs.

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it.

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone.

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it.

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other.

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy.

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only.

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin.

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this.

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x male reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian wayne x reader

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miguelhugger2099 · 8 months

Note

OMG imagine the one bed trope w miguel. like idk why itd happen, maybe like they’re scoping out an anomaly in another universe and somehow the portal back gets blocked and they gotta stay the night at a hotel, but miguel and reader are stuck in the same bed (she SWEARS she booked two beds but oops! all the rooms are filled up!) and like oh no they need this hotel!! so at first they’re really rigid and like miguel’s all tense, he’s like “i’ll sleep on the floor” but reader is like “no it’s okay we can share! i don’t move a lot in my sleep anyway” (that’s a lie btw.) so then like miguel’s wide awake in the middle of the night, and reader keeps shifting in her sleep, and they end up in a pretty compromising position if ykwim… and then maybe she wakes up and finds miguel like so flustered and starts teasing him a bit and then things heat up ofc… idk just a thought! it’s been so long since i’ve seen the one bed trope tbh. (fem reader btw plssss)

Forced Proximity

i tried with my best with this 🫠 i wanted to try something new instead of regular p in v i hope that's okay 😭 thank u for requesting! if anything, i'd be happy to redo this when my requests open again

Miguel x Reader, Suggestive/Smut, Word Count: 2,271

Just as you and Miguel were about to shoot your webs at the new anomaly, a black bubbly portal opened up and sucked them up into another dimension. “Dammit!” You cursed, groaning at the convenience of an anomaly escaping. Miguel is already beside you, mask eyes squinted in focus as he clicks buttons on his watch. “Where’d he run off to?” You ask him. “No clue. Trying to track him now but the touchpad isn’t responding.” He grunts and furiously taps his screen but it seems to be glitching. He tries to open a portal back to HQ but it only warbles a little bit before shutting close again. “Let me try.” You lift up your watch to try and press the same coordinates when it responds the same way: a little warping but it shuts close. “Lyla,” Miguel calls out and she pops up between you two. “Run an analysis on our watches.” Her small heart glasses fog up with various numbers and letters, codes that only she knows. “Looks like the watches are bugged, Mig. Probably an effect the anomaly had.” “So we’re stranded?” You rip off your mask and place a hand on your hip. “Yup!” She nods. “For how long?” Miguel pinches his nose bridge with his finger and thumb.

“Well, most part-time spiders are off doing other missions in other dimensions and the other half of them have the day off. No one will be available until morning.” “So, we’re staying the night.” You lift your arms up and slap them down. “I’m finding a hotel.” You turn and look around for any around you two. Miguel sighs and faces Lyla. “Is there another way home? Are we safe from the glitching?” Lyla nods, pulling up frames and data for him to look at. “Safe from glitching. Probably just a program issue. Maybe an update issue. Unfortunately, not even Margo is at HQ so your next bet is waiting for a spider to portal you two back.” She explains and glitches out of the air. He tries to find a new solution but comes up short, deciding to just accept it before he grows angry. Miguel hears you calling his name as you run back to where Lyla and him were standing. “Okay, I found a hotel! I talked to this lady up front–luckily the currency is the same as yours–and we got extra lucky,” You huffed with a wide smile on your face. “They’re pretty busy but she managed to get us a room with two beds and two bathrooms. Left her a tip, hope you don’t mind.” You placed your hands on your hips and continued to grin at the frown on his lips.

Miguel rolled his eyes and called for Lyla, her little form glitching back and perching on his shoulder. “Lyla, get back to base. Let the others know we’ve been stranded and call for backup whenever someone’s available.” Her vibrant yellow glare shifts as she moves, her hand coming up in a salute and a police hat glitching on her head. “You got it, boss! Have fun you two!” She giggles and phases out. Miguel passes by you coldly, heading for the hotel where you booked for the night. You yawn behind him, just wanting to rest after a wasted day of failing to catch an anomaly. You walked through the hallways of the hotel, checking down at your key for the number of your room. Once you found it, you slipped the keycard on the lock and opened the door. “Home sweet–” You cut yourself off after peeking into the room and what greeted you was a singular bed. “Wha–?!” You glanced back at the roomkey number and the plate outside, finding the two matching that this was indeed your room for the night. “I swear I asked for two–” “I’ll take the floor.” Miguel grumbles behind you, his entire frame stiff and rigid. You take a look up at him and his face is unamused and staring straight ahead to avoid your eye. “No, it’s–it’s fine,” You chuckle nervously and walk over to the bed. You pat the edge of it and try to convince yourself and Miguel that everything was fine. “There’s so much space. It’s like–what– a king size? We have plenty of room to share!” Miguel doesn’t seem convinced in the slightest, already making a move to grab a pillow. “I don’t even move that much in my sleep! Promise! Pinky promise.” You hold up your pinky to Miguel and he stops to stare at your hand with a deadpan expression. “Fine.” He grunts, placing the pillow back down and not wanting to deal with you any further since he was exhausted.

You, in fact, actually do move a lot in your sleep–Miguel figured out. He really was exhausted and expected himself to pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow but with you next to him, it was like the energy hadn’t left his body. He laid there straight as a pole with the blanket at his chest and staring at the ceiling. You were in dreamland, snoozing and sprawled on the mattress– blissfully unaware of Miguel’s misery by the situation at hand. You shifted around in your sleep, your hand hitting his shoulder or your leg bumping against his ankle. Miguel could handle it. He’s spent many uncomfortable all-nighters so he thought to himself that one more wouldn’t be too damaging for him. It wasn’t until you moved further to his side of the bed that had Miguel’s heart racing. You turned to his side, throwing your leg over his and your arm draped around his neck to bring him closer to you. His arm instinctively went under your body and held your waist while you pressed yourself against him, so as to not make the position uncomfortable for either of you. Miguel’s cheeks burned while you nuzzled to his chest, acting like he was some sort of teddy bear. He hoped his heartbeat wouldn’t wake you from your slumber. Your thighs were close together and any closer you’d start accidentally grinding on him. Miguel looked back up at the ceiling and prayed that you’d move soon.

His prayers were not answered. You woke up after feeling a bit too much heat and it became unbearable to sleep through. You blinked away the sleep groggily, wondering why the pillow you had been on had gotten a little more firm. You lifted your head to see you weren’t on your pillow but basically cuddling up against your boss. You looked down to see your legs intertwined together and turned your head to apologize when you stopped seeing Miguel’s cheeks flush red. His eyes did not meet yours but you felt the pounding of his heart. A smile curled up on your lips, apology wiped off your mind and instead leaning into wanting to taunt him for how shy he’s acting. “Miguel,” You tease with a bit of laughter. “Aw, c’mon. A little accidental cuddle gets you nervous?” Miguel glares at you from the corner of his eye. As you laugh, you continue moving against him. You don’t notice how he takes a sharp inhale when your knee brushes against his crotch as you lift yourself up. Your hands rest on either side of his head. “Did you even sleep? Or did you just stay up all night like some perv?” You snort, having the time of your life seeing your usually sulking boss look so cute with red scattered across his cheeks. Miguel squeezes your waist then uses both his hands to grab you and force you down on his thigh. You gasp in shock, all playfulness leaving your body as your core hits his firm muscle. The action ignites a spark in your chest that sends it straight between your legs, making you whimper, all in a split second.

You snap your head towards him, cheeks already burning and mouth dropped open in shock. Miguel meets it with a cheshire like grin, his own blush on his cheeks but less now that you’re more flustered than him. “Careful,” He says. “Wouldn’t want to be some sort of perv, huh?” You could’ve sworn his voice dropped down an octave. You stutter, unable to respond back as he rendered you speechless. His thigh flexed and it sent a jolt up your spine with your cunt throbbing which he felt. Maybe it was him being tired, drained from the day that he was acting out of character. Too tired to care about the consequences while his mind clouded and numbed his usual feelings. For now, he enjoyed the way your hands gripped onto his shoulders, cute eyes wide open and feeling the delicious beat of your pussy on his thigh. He rubs your hips on his thigh, his muscle flexing to put some stimulation to your pussy. You squeak and lean forward as the pleasure runs through your body and makes you grow hot. “Miguel…!” You gasp and moan. You automatically grind yourself on him and his grin widens, leaning back to see the show. Miguel feels your wetness seep through the thin fabric of your suit and panties onto his own suit. He phases just a small part of his thigh out his suit to feel just how wet you’ve gotten with a little teasing. “Already?” He murmurs and your cheeks burn brightly. “You like this, huh?” “Fuck…” You huff out, hanging your head to not meet his gaze. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he moves your hips. “C’mon. Show me how much you like this.” You know he was only doing this to get back at you for teasing him, for booking a one bed instead of two and with how his patience had run out from being stranded here, you decided not to test that anger anymore.

So you slowly moved up and down his thigh with a soft whimper, shutting your eyes close while you did so. Your breathing grew heavy, and you shook with every slight movement on his end. Slowly, you picked up speed, the lust flooding your mind and the pace you were going at hadn’t been enough. You humped his thigh faster, still opting out of looking down at him. “Shit…Not enough…” You murmured under your breath, not thinking he’d heard you over the accumulating wet sounds on his skin and shuffling of bed sheets. “Let me help.” You hear him say and feel his hand by the zipper of your suit at the nape of your neck. Weak from your pleasure, you let him tug your suit off your torso. Miguel tapped your thighs as a signal to lift yourself up while he slipped the rest of it off you. You were now bare in front of him, his hands placed back at your hips. You still felt embarrassed, trying to cover up your chest with your arms and hands. Miguel wasn’t having it, growing annoyed at you covering yourself. He cupped the back of your neck and pulled you flushed down on his chest. “Keep going.” He growled. The rumble of his voice went straight to your cunt once more, succumbing to him as you began grinding yourself on him, skin to skin. Your folds smeared your juices on his thighs coating him in your wetness. The swollen nub of your clit rolled deliciously between you and his thigh and you panted softly as you tried chasing you high.

“There you go. That’s it.” Miguel murmured, bucking his thigh to your pussy to the same pace of your humping. He held your hip with one hand to help you and his other hand raked up and down your back, his talons scratching your flesh. “You’re doing so good. Good girl riding my thigh, yeah?” He purred which made you groan and buck your hips faster. “Miguel…” You breathed out. “More, more.” You pleaded. His talons pricked your skin. “Cum on my thigh first and maybe I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Peter B. met you two once the portal fully opened up in your stranded dimension. He greeted you with a smile, Mayday babbling in her carrier. “Hey! Glad you guys survived the night. Took a minute to get you guys. Sorry about that.” He playfully punched Miguel’s and your shoulder. You beamed at him and held Mayday’s little hand, wiggling it around softly enough to make her giggle. “Hope it wasn’t agonizing.” Peter chuckles to you. You chuckle back and step away from Mayday, giving the two a smile. “Not at all. He’s surprisingly good company.” Miguel doesn’t react behind you. “Oh, yeah? Must be going soft. Big guy isn’t just pleasant for anybody.” Peter says. “Funny how things work out.” You grin and turn around to peck Miguel’s cheek and walk towards the portal. “I’ll see you guys later?” You give a wink and slip into the portal, your body phasing out and leaving the two men behind. Peter gapes at the warping space where you had just left and slowly turns to Miguel to see his friend, very much stiff but his face has a slight tint to it. “Did something happen–” Miguel shoves his face aside and phases his mask over his head to hide his cheeks. “Cállate.” He mutters and enters into the portal towards his dimension.

Peter gets snapped out of his stupor by Mayday babbling and waving her arms around as if cheering Miguel and you on. Peter looks down at her and grabs her little hand in his. “He’s growin’ up, huh?” Mayday squeals.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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ghelgheli · 5 months

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hey you might've been asked this before sorry if so, but have you read or do you have any thoughts on A short history of Trans Misogyny?

I have read it! I have a few thoughts.

I think it's a strong and important work that compiles historical archives into sharp analyses of how "trans misogyny" (using Jules Gill-Peterson's spacing) is not a recent phenomenon but a globalized structure with centuries of history. I also think it's flawed, for reasons I'll get into after a quick summary for those who haven't had the chance to read it yet.

JGP divides the book into three main chapters, the first on the notion of "trans panic". There, she traces how variants of this anxiety with the trans-feminized subject have presented—to deadly effect, for the subject—in such different settings as early colonial India, the colonization of the Americas, the racialized interactions between US soldiers stationed in the Philippines and the local trans women living there, and of course the contemporary United States itself. In every case she analyzes this "panic" as the reaction of the capitalist colonial enterprise to the conceptual threat that the trans-feminized subject poses; we are a destabilizing entity, a gender glitch that undermines the rigid guarantees of the patriarchal order maintaining capitalism. Punishment follows.

The second chapter is my favourite, and considers the relationship between transfeminine life and sex work. I posted a concluding excerpt but the thrust of the chapter is this: that the relegation of so many trans women and trans-feminized people to sex work, while accompanied by the derogation and degradation that is associated with sex work, is not itself the mere result of that degradation inflicted upon the subject. In other words, it is not out of pure helplessness and abjection that so many trans-feminized people are involved in sex work. Rather, sex work is a deliberate and calculated choice made by many trans-feminized people in increasingly service-based economies that present limited, often peripheralized, feminized, and/or reproductive, options for paid labour. Paired with a pretty bit of critical confabulation about the histories of Black trans-feminized people travelling the US in the 19th century, I think this made for great reading.

In her third chapter, JGP narrativizes the 20th century relationship between the "gay" and "trans" movements in north america—scare quoted precisely because the two went hand-in-hand for much of their history. She emphasizes this connection, not merely an embedding of one community within another but the tangled mutualism of experiences and subjectivities that co-constituted one another, though not without tension. Then came the liberal capture of the gay rights movement around the 70s, which brought about the famous clashes between the radicalisms of Silvia Rivera and Marsha P Johnson (neither of whom, JGP notes, ever described themselves as trans women) and the institutions of gay liberalism that desired subsumption into the folds of capital. This is a "remember your history" type of chapter, and well-put.

I think JGP is correct to insist, in her introduction, on the globalizing-in-a-destructive-sense effects of the colonial export of trans womanhood. It is, after all, an identity conceived only mid-century to make sense of the medicalized trans subject; and "gender identity" itself (as JGP describes in Histories of the Transgender Child) is a psychomedical concept conceived to rein in the epistemic instability of trans existence. This is critical to keep in mind! But I also think JGP makes a few mistakes, and one of them has to do with this point.

In her first chapter, under the discussion of trans misogyny in colonial India, JGP of course uses the example of the hijra. Unfortunately, she commits two fundamental errors in her use: she mythologizes, however ambiguously, the "ascetic" lives of hijra prior to the arrival of British colonialism; and she says "it's important to say that hijras were not then—and are not today—transgender". In the first place, the reference to the "ascetism" of hijra life prior to the violence of colonialism is evocative of "third-gender" idealizations of primeval gender subjectivities. To put the problem simply: it's well and good to describe the "ritual" roles of gendered subjects people might try to construe contemporarily as "trans women", the priestesses and oracles and divinities of yore. But it is best not to do so too loftily. Being assigned to a particular form of ritualistic reproductive labour because of one's failure to be a man and inability to perform the primary reproductive labour of womanhood-proper is the very marker of the trans-feminized subject. "Ascetism" here obviates the reality that it wasn't all peachy before (I recommend reading Romancing the Transgender Native on this one). Meanwhile, in the after, it is just wrong that hijra are universally not transgender. Many organize specifically under the banners of transfeminism. It's a shame that JGP insists on keeping the trans-feminized life of hijra so firmly demarcated from what she herself acknowledges is globalized transness.

My second big complaint with the book is JGP's slip into a trap I have complained about many times: the equivocation of transfemininity with femininity (do you see why I'm not fond of being described as "transfem"?). She diagnoses the root of transmisogyny as a reaction to the femininity of trans women and other trans-feminized subjects. In this respect she explicitly subscribes to a form of mujerísima, and of the trans-feminized subject as "the most feminine" and (equivalent, as far as she's concerned) "the most woman". Moreover, she locates transfeminist liberation in a singular embrace of mujerísima as descriptive of trans-feminized subjectivity. As I've discussed previously, I think this is a misdiagnosis. Feminization is, of course, something that is done to people; it is certainly the case that the trans-feminized subject is in this way feminized for perceived gender-failure. This subject may simultaneously embrace feminized ways of being for all sorts of reasons. In both cases I think the feminization follows from, rather than precedes, the trans misogyny and trans-feminization, and there is a fair bit of masculinization as de-gendering at play too, to say nothing of the deliberate embrace of masculinity by "trans-feminized" subjects. Masculinity and femininity are already technologies of gender normalization—they are applied against gender deviation and adapted to by the gender deviant. The deviation happens first, in the failure to adhere to the expectations of gender assignment, and I don't think these expectations can be summarized by either masculinity or femininity alone. I think JGP is effectively describing the experience of many trans-feminized people, but I do not think what she presents can be the universalized locus of trans liberation she seems to want it to be.

Now for a pettier complaint that I've made before, but one that I think surfaces JGP's academic context. In her introduction she says:

In truth, everyone is implicated in and shaped by trans misogyny. There is no one who is purely affected by it to the point of living in a state of total victimization, just as there is no one who lives entirely exempt from its machinations. There is no perfect language to be discovered, or invented, to solve the problem of trans misogyny by labeling its proper perpetrator and victim.

Agreed that "there is no perfect language to be discovered"! But JGP is clearly critical of TMA/TME language here. Strange, then, that less than ten pages later she says this:

this book adds the phrase trans-feminized to describe what happens to groups subjected to trans misogyny though they did not, or still do not, wish to be known as transgender women.

So JGP believes it is coherent to talk about "groups subjected to trans misogyny", which she thinks consists of the union of trans women and what she called "trans-feminized" groups. If this is to be coherent, there must be groups not subjected to trans misogny. So we've come around to transmisogyny-subjected and not transmisogyny-subjected. Look: you cannot effectively theorize about transmisogyny without recognizing that its logic paints a particular target, and you will need to come up with a concise way of making this distinction. But JGP dismissing TMA/TME with skepticism about "perfect language" and immediately coining new language (basically TMS/not TMS) to solve the problem she un-solved by rejecting TMA/TME... it smells of a sloppy attempt to make a rhetorical point rather than theoretical rigour. It's frustrating.

I have other minor gripes, like her artificial separation of "trans women" from "nonbinary people" (cf. countless posts on here lamenting the narrow forms of existence granted TMA people if we want recognition as-such!) or her suggestion that "a politics of overcoming the gender binary" is mutually exclusive from rather than necessarily involved with struggles around "prison abolition, police violence, and sex work". Little things that give me the sense of theoretical tunnel-vision. But I don't think all this compromises the book's strengths as a work of broad historical analysis. I would simply not take every one of its claims as authoritative. Definitely give it a read if you have the chance, especially for the second and third chapters.

#ask answer #jules gill-peterson #(i haven't been asked this before ty for asking <3 🐐)#note that this was mostly off the cuff except what i had taken pictures of bc i left the book in toronto for my mom to read

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yandereunsolved · 3 months

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𖹭 𓆝 𓆟 Poly Yandere Sage & Sidon 𓆞 𓆝 𖹭

Born of the Hylian race and always drawn to the water. It made you the perfect candidate to be the Hylian ambassador who worked with the Zora. You worked with them when Divine Beast Vah Ruta was pouring rain and flooding the domain. Now you work with Yona to take care of the Zora's due to the massive amounts of sludge suffocating the land and creatures.

You were one of the three Hylians that the Zora allowed to freely walk among them without special permission for each entry. You wished in these moments that it was more than three. Zelda was lost only the goddesses know where. Sage had lost his arm and now seemed to further distance himself from you. You, oh you, the Zora loved Yona but saw you as a stain upon them.

You weren't one of their own, a reincarnation of a goddess, or the hero fated to save Hyrule. You were simply a hylian that was appointed to their waters.

It kept you stuck, doing your best to find as many splash fruits as possible. You'd overwork yourself from dusk till dawn just to find some. You had to find them; it was the only way to gain even a smidgen of their approval. You even went into Lynel territory for them.

Prince Sidon wasn't the least bit pleased when he learned about your being so reckless. You were confined to your room and were only visited by guards and the prince. You recovered your physical health, but not your mental. You became addicted to his presence. He'd always give you the same comforting smile and soothing touch.

Sage was the same way when he finally made his way to you both. It was the first time you were able to leave your room in a handful of months. You practically collapsed into his arms. You didn't notice his stunned silence or the firey blush lighting up his hardened features, but Sidon did.

"Good friend, it's such a shame that Zelda is missing. However, it is good to see that you are no worse for wear. Except for that arm of yours—?" Sidon spoke in an elated tone, an undercurrent of a pleased growl bubbling up from his throat.

Sage did not answer after he explained his predicament. He stuck by the both of you like the sludge that coated Zora's Domain. He mostly communicated through Hylian sign. His Zonai arm, as you learned, was perfect for translating it into an audio version of what he was signing. It would occasionally glitch around the both of you, glowing bright and moving on its own to grasp either you or Sidon.

"My friend!" Sidon gasped as Link's Zonai arm caressed Sidon's midsection.

It was a common occurrence, and it was oddly cute.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

Both of them were needed to save the domain, and you once again were shut out from the outside world. You didn't learn until after Sage and Sidon had defeated the beast within the Water Temple that Yona had been slain by the Sludge Like Like that had attacked near Mipha's statue.

The only oddity of it all is that Yona had the distinct slash of a Zora Longsword across her throat.

You were the only one that seemingly picked up on this detail. This was because Sidon wouldn't allow anyone to look at her dead body except for you or Sage. It was a question that still lingers in your mind, but you don't dare ask it. Sage didn't see anything wrong with it, and he is the hero.

It was one shock after another.

You were wed to Sidon in the place of Yona, and Link was married to both of you. You had no time to protest. It was seemingly a decision that was controversial among the Zora. However, anyone who voiced their displeasure soon had their gills cut. It wasn't as if you were against it. Both were truly handsome.

You worried about the differences between Zora and Hylian anatomy.

Both didn't seem to have a care in the world about the finer details. You lay in bed with both your husbands. You are all saddened to know that Link must go to continue his journey of defeating the Demon King. At least he has Sidon's avatar. Sidon is able to feel, see, and hear everything through it.

Only one phrase was left to be said.

"I love you both." You murmur through your sleepy daze.

Both of their hearts almost stopped. They stared at each other in surprise. The same thing was on both their minds.

You love them. They won you.

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bimobuddy · 8 months

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Learning to Trust

SFW Hazbin TK fic

Alright people hear me out with this one

Major Spoilers

CW: Brief mention of anxiety disorders, swearing

Lee!Vox, Ler!Alastor

It's kind of a ship? The Aromantic 'Squish' equivalent of a ship. Well not yet anyway, they're still rivals in this, but I might make a part 2 that explores that a little more

It was gonna be Valentino and Vox, but I'm mad at Val so he got his boyfriend privileges taken away >:(

This might get kinda angsty, sorry in advance

Summary: Vox is glitching out and having connection issues, so he bites the bullet and asks help from the only other demon who can help him. Unfortunately with that demon being Alastor, they run into some issues.

It had started happening after the battle between the exterminators and the sinners. The War between Heaven and Hell. Vox had been watching it all happen on his TV, mostly keeping an eye on Alastor. Originally the plan was to watch by himself, but Velvet insisted they all watch together, and he couldn't really think of a good enough lie to tell her no, so he gave in.

He had spent the whole night playing up how much he hated Alastor, which is easy when your entire life and afterlife, you've been a TV Show Host. Many years of acting. At one point he even hoped if he got too obnoxious, the other two might leave, but used to his antics, they stayed.

But inside he was immensely stressed out. Yes he and Alastor were rivals, but there was something about the rivalry he needed. Something about it he liked. He couldn't really explain it himself, and he preferred not to think about it, preferring to tell himself that he just enjoyed hating the Radio Host.

So when he watched Alastor almost get killed by Adam, seeing him actually vulnerable for once... It scared him.

Then started the glitching. He knew it was from stress, the feeling was very familiar to when he was a human with an anxiety disorder. Only instead of a racing heart and suddenly feeling faint and warm, his anxiety came in the form of glitching, as his mind couldn't process everything, and showed it visibly on his screen.

He had tried for hours to make it stop, to try and fix it himself, but he couldn't see the mirror properly through all the glitching. That and the glitching made it hard to think.

He considered going to Velvet, but despite her phone and social media use, she didn't actually know anything about the tech itself. There was one more option, but he really didn't want to even consider it.

Though as he started to glitch out again, he decided to just bite the bullet.

Vox found himself scaling up the side of the Hotel, climbing toward Alastor's radio tower.

He'd rather fall to his death than use the doors and ask to see him. As he reached the top, he frantically tapped on the window, feeling another glitch about to happen.

Nothing.

He started tapping again, even faster this time.

Still nothing.

He made a fist and drew his arm back to just break the window in-

*click*

"Well this is quite the predicament." Alastor said, leaning over the windowsill. "Shut up asshole, just let me in." Vox grumbled. Alastor's grin seemed to widen. "And why shouldn't I just give you a little nudge?" The radio host questioned, placing his cane lightly against Vox's screen.

Vox couldn't help but notice that his cane had been seemingly glued back together and.. bandaged up? He didn't have time to think about that. "I uh.." He trailed off, only for Alastor to push his cane a little harder into Vox's screen. He tried to speak again, but he glitched, losing his grip and slipping.

But he didn't fall. Through all the TV static, he felt his wrists being grabbed, as he was pulled upward. He still couldn't focus much, but he recognized that he had dropped to a hardwood floor now.

"My, this certainly is quite a problem.. For you, anyway, I find it entertaining." Alastor chuckled. Vox pressed a palm to the cool floor to try and ground himself. Gradually, the static cleared itself. "You know what I found interesting? That someone as strong and as feared as you got cut down by an angel." He said, glaring.

The room got deadly silent, Alastor's smile much more strained now.

"... I need your help, okay?"

"And why should I help you? Especially after that nice little comment you made."

"Listen, I'm- Ugh. Forget it, I don't know why I even both-øťhəred-" Vox had stood to leave, only for another glitch to have him leaning against the wall for support.

"It appears neither of us are in great shape." Alastor said, begrudgingly lifting Vox by his upper arm and setting him in one of the swivel chairs. He crossed his arms and waited for Vox's glitching to pass.

After a solid minute, Vox groaned, his head starting to hurt. "So what made you think you'd come to someone who famously hates television boxes for help? Especially when that person is a rival, an enemy, someone you've fought in the past?" Alastor asked.

Vox looked up at him, feeling that pit of anxiety in his stomach again. "I didn't know who else to go to. Valentino is useless, Velvet doesn't know shit about tech, and you're the only other demon who has seen me weak before."

Alastor took a moment to process that last part. He considered it. If he helped Vox, he risked being seen as soft. But if he didn't help him, what if it got worse, and he lost his nemesis, the pettiness that kept him going at times, that pushed him to be the best Host?

He sat down in his seat, across from Vox. "Do you trust me?" He asked. Vox thought for a moment. Did he? He must have if he came here. "I have to."

"Good enough." Alastor went to get started... "Wait how the hell do I do this? I'm more familiar with my own equipment."

Oh, right. Vox sighed. "The back of my monitor comes off. Just open it, and I'll instruct you from there." He said, turning around and removing his hat.

Alastor curled his fingers around the back panel of his monitor, causing Vox to jump a little. "If you want me to help you, sit still-" "I am, shut up." Alastor pulled the back panel off and was met with what to him looked like Alien technology.

After Vox had instructed him on what to do, he got to work. Though he didnt like working in silence, it felt a little too intimate, especially with his hands inside someone else's head.

"So what exactly caused this, if I may ask?" He questioned. "Stress. I start to glitch out when things are hard to process and I overload. Sometimes if the glitching gets too bad, I shut down, which I'd rather avoid."

"Shut down," Alastor repeated, "I thought if you 'shut down,' you'd die or something?" "No, no.. I can more closely compare it to burnout but ten times worse. Last time I shut down, it took me a week to recharge."

"Hm. And what caused you to become so stressed this time? Sure I've seen you briefly buffer and glitch during our fights, but never this bad." Alastor asked. Vox noticed the radio filter in his voice seemed to fade out. He was genuinely curious.

He didn't know what to say. More like he didn't know how to say it. How do you tell your rival of all people you were stressed because you saw them get hurt?

"Well? With how close I am to all these wires, I'd answer if I were you." Ah, his filter was back. "I just.. Got overworked." "Need I remind you how easy it would be for me to unplug some of these wires? Hm, this yellow one seems awfully loose-" "I was worried oka- Aha!"

...

"What do we have here?" Alastor asked, a smile evident in his voice. Vox froze. He actually didn't know 'what they had there.' That had never happened before.

"I-I don't know, but Alastor I swear to Satan himself- wahait- grr- Don't!" He gripped the armrests of his seat in a desperate attempt to hold still. He worried if he pulled away too fast, he'd accidentally rip a wire out.

It felt so weird. He could actually feel Alastor messing with the wires in his head, specifically the ones down at the bottom that ran down his neck and into his back. Each time the Radio host rolled one between his fingers, it sent what felt like electricity into his system. Thousands of little shocks that made him want to pull away and- No. He wouldn't, it was dumb, it was weak, and it wasn't like him.

Alastor grinned wider, finding it fun to mess with him. "Why Vox, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were ticklish." He said, rubbing the wires again, watching as Vox gripped the armrests tighter and scrunched his shoulders up. Alastor only grew more amused as he heard the other's fans whir to life as his ventilation system tried to cool him down.

Vox, however, felt like he was fighting for his life. His shoulders were shaking, his chest was spasming, and he felt his screen overheating. He was actively fighting back any noise that tried to escape. He refused to be seen as any weaker than he already was. "T-Tickl-what? The f-fuhuck is that? Thihis isn't a vihirus??"

Alastor paused. "You seriously have never heard of tickling? It's childsplay. Children often have tickle-fights with their siblings and friends. You've never even seen it?" "I never really had any friends."

There was a beat of silence.

"What about the other V's?"

"Gross, you think I'd let Valentino get anywhere near me? You know where his hands have been?"

"Where haven't they been is the real question."

Fuck, that got a laugh out of Vox. A real one too, not the fake rehearsed one he used in public or on TV. It was lighter than Alastor expected, genuine, and almost had a warm sound to it if you can imagine that.

And Alastor found himself wanting to hear it again. "I suppose I should get back to maintenance now shouldn't I?" He said, returning to his work, get making sure his hands brushed over the wires and cables occasionally. More than occasionally.

"A-Alastor- fuhuck- wahahait- *wheeeze* ahahahaha!" Vox found himself stomping the floor a little, since he was unable to pull away. He felt light scritching at the base of his neck, obviously intentional. "Yohohou ohold tihihimey prihick! I'll d-dehehe- dehehehahahaha!"

"Oh I'm sorry, you're going to what now? I can't exactly hear you." Alastor grinned. Both hands, or claws one should say, suddenly scritched at the back of his ribs.

Unable to control himself, Vox tossed his head back and laughed, and slammed backward, pressing his back into the seat. Alastor was quick to pull his hands back with a chuckle.

Vox's fans were whirring loudly. "You ahasshole, just finish fuckin' repairing me." "Oh I finished that ten minutes ago!" Alastor answered cheerfully, popping the back panel back into place in Vox's monitor.

Vox groaned, irritated.

"I still find it hard to believe you've never heard of tickling! Everyone knows about it. I'm even more surprised no one's ever found out by accident. Not even while reparing your monitor?"

"I fix myself, I don't trust anyone to touch me."

"You trusted me."

Vox turned his swivel chair around to face Alastor. "I did, yeah.."

Alastor tilted his head a little in curiosity. "And maybe you could trust me again. You never did tell me what got you so stressed." Vox rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you started assaulting me before I could."

"Voxius."

"That's not- Did you just assign me a full name?"

"Yes, now quit stalling." Alastor said, latching a hand onto Vox's side. "WAIT-" He shouted before batting at his hand, huffing out chuckles. Alastor only crawled his hands up Vox's ribs before targeting his underarms.

"WAITFUCKTHATSWORSE!" He cackled out, slamming his arms down, trapping Alastor's hands. The Radio demon only chuckled. "You'll learn that when it comes to tickling, much like real fights, you're not supposed to let your opponent know exactly where your weak points are. Now I can do this." He stated before drilling his thumbs into Vox's underarms.

"FAHAHAHACK!" He shouted, kicking a leg out, much like a dog, whilst also trying to curl up in his chair to protect himself. "Thihihis ihihis rihihihidiculohohous!!"

"What's ridiculous is that you still haven't answered the question."

"YOHOU WOHONT LEHEHET MEHEHE!"

"Hm, fine." Alastor stopped and pulled his hands away. Vox tried to kick him but of course a tendril came out and grabbed his leg, as he expected.

Vox muttered something. "I'm sorry?" Alastor asked, leaning closer. Vox sighed. "I was worried." "About?"

"About you."

Alastor's eyes widened ever so slightly. Vox had been violently glitching out over him? "Why is that?" His voice was normal.

"You're my rival, so obviously I tuned in to watch the battle. I wanted to see if you'd get killed. Part of me obviously wanted it to happen, but when I saw that Angel snap your cane and actually hit you-" Alastor flinched at the memory, "Seeing you actually vulnerable like that.. I realized I didn't actually want to lose my one and only rival. As much as I hate ya, you do push me to come up with newer and better shows in order to compete with you."

"I... can't say I haven't thought the same thing. Because of you I have to write better scripts and find the best topics for my broadcast. Even though it's no question that I'm the best," he grinned as Vox frowned, "But I am the best because of you."

Vox wasn't sure what to say to that, having mixed feelings. Before he could overthink it, Alastor held a hand out. He took it, as the other demon helped him up. "Now, it's quite late, and you have a tight schedule, I'm sure." He opened the window, as a large tendril waited outside for Vox.

"I do appreciate you coming to check on me." He said before hurrying Vox out the window, as he sat on the tendril. "If you tell anyone I said that, I just might broadcast this newly discovered sensitivity of yours." He threatened.

There was the Alastor he knew and loved to hate.

"I won't, don't worry. I don't feel like explaining to anyone why I was over at your Radio Tower anyway. You hurry up and heal, Alastor, I want you in top shape for our next fight," He smirked, "Even I'm not low enough to kick someone while he's do-OOOWN-" The tendril suddenly dropped, pulling Vox down with it, where it would drop him off safely on the ground.

Alastor shut his window, and watched the TV show host leave down the hill. Never in a million years did he think Vox would ever trust him, nor did he ever think he'd help his rival.

But he couldn't deny that he had had a little fun that night, not only tickling him, but just talking and getting to know him a little.

This night might have made their rivalry slightly more complicated.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!vox #ler!alastor

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yourdarkcherry · 2 months

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Seducing Rafe Cameron || Ch. 3

Summary: You were blessed with an easy life since you were born, but it’s all threatened when your dad’s business fails and you find yourself with no prospects and no education and so your only solution is to marry rich. Who’s a better candidate than the older brother of your ex-best friend from high school? So you do everything in your power to seduce Rafe Cameron, not knowing he’s the root to all your problems.

Warnings: toxic relationship, spoiled reader, sexist elements, dark content, blackcoded reader, pregnancy, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, death threats, eventual smut.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You swear that this could’ve been the worst day of your entire life. From the start to the current moment it was all a series of unfortunate events. For some reason, you couldn’t wake up at the sound of your alarm, and you only awakened at the sound of your mother shaking you awake and asking you why you’re not attending your pilates class.

With wide eyes, you stare at your clock and find it’s displaying a 10:43 AM to you. Jumping from your bed, you rush to your bathroom with a continuous string of swear words at not attending your pilates class, or even finishing any of the errands you had to run.

The clock on your car shows 11:52 AM when you finally leave your house. You don’t even wait for the car to properly heat up and instantly begin your trip to the location Rafe sent you this morning, right after his good morning text that went ignored due to you oversleeping.

Then in your frenzy to reach the restaurant on time, you rear end someone. It was the last thing you wanted, and even when you exit the car you prepare yourself for the fight the other person would initiate. It was completely your fault, you were texting Rafe letting him know you will be late.

You inspect your car first, seeing the bumper threatening to fall any minute now, then you turn your head to the side and find the van you rear-ended was pretty damaged.

“Lady! Can’t you see where you were going?!” an irritated man comments, and it gets nearer to the back of the car to inspect the accident.

You try to put on your best sorry look, and then look at the person only to take a second look. You didn’t have to look at him three times to know who he was. With his long locks, and tan skin, then to the light blue van.

This is the man Sarah was dating, and currently dating according to what Wheezie told you last night. He recognizes you too, for some reason as he also does a look back and his eyes widen for a little.

“I’m sorry, I admit my fault I was pretty preoccupied.” you say, then move back to your car to take your phone, but when you return you’re shocked to find Sarah Cameron in the flesh, standing next to him.

You stop briefly in your tracks, taken back at seeing her for the first time in years. She looks exactly as you last seen her, you blame your complex emotions at seeing her on the fact that she looks like she’s always did, and not a single thing changed about her.

“(Y/N).” she calls your name first, you clear your throat and walk towards her and her boyfriend.

“Hello, Sarah.” you greet, and then take your gaze off her brown eyes and stare at the man, “my insurance can cover you, I’ll call them right now and let them know.” he nods, and you take a glance at Sarah one last time as you feel her stare on your face.

You turn around and dial in the insurance company number, although your phone glitches before you can call and then it vibrates as Rafe's name flashes in your phone. You don’t need to be a genius to know you weren’t late but you were very much unclassy late.

The kind of lateness that cannot be blamed on women’s vanity.

You answer immediately, and after your first “Hello?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm…” you cover your forehead as you look back on the accident. “Not really, rear-ended someone.” You answer honestly.

Rafe’s voice tightens with concern. “Where exactly are you right now? I need to know.”

You hesitate, glancing around at the scene. “I’m... just near the diner on Maple Street. But really, Rafe, you don’t have to come.”

“I’m coming over,” he insists. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Don’t move from where you are.”

You wince, knowing that Rafe’s presence would complicate things even more. Sarah Cameron, his disowned sister, is right here with her boyfriend. The last thing you want is for Rafe and Sarah to run into each other. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but—”

“No arguments. I’m on my way,” Rafe says firmly. “Just stay put and don’t try to handle this all on your own.”

Panic starts to set in. You know it’s a terrible idea to let Rafe come, but you also understand how stubborn he can be. “Okay, fine. But it’s really not a big deal, and I’m dealing with the insurance already. Maybe just... wait a bit before coming?”

“Just give me a few minutes, alright?” Rafe’s tone is insistent. “I’ll be there soon.”

As you hang up, you feel the weight of the situation press down on you. You glance over at Sarah and her boyfriend, trying to avoid making eye contact. This whole thing is turning into a mess you never anticipated

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the silver lining of the situation. If Rafe shows up and helps you sort this out, he might feel useful, which you know is something he appreciates. Men often enjoy feeling like they’re making a difference, and this could be a way to turn a frustrating situation into a moment where he feels valued.

The call with the insurance company is short, you let them know of what happened abd they let you know of what to do.

When you walk closer to the van, you see Sarah lingering awkwardly close to you as she watches you take pictures of the accident. You pretend you don’t notice her while you text the pictures to the insurance company.

“So…how have you been?” she asks first.

You clear your throat, turning around to face her. “I’ve been good.” The awkward silence makes the heat of this summer feel even worse as your cheeks burn. “You?”

“I’ve been doing good too. I remember Wheezie told me that you uhm… you started this two year college in Charlotte town.” She says, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

“Yeah…the program was called hospitality excellence and etiquette.” you answer.

Her eyes widen slightly, then she tightens her lips into a tight line before she comments, “thought it was an english literature and writing program, you always did like that a whole a lot,” she then clears her throat. “You talked about it a lot back in high school.”

You nod, feeling a pang of discomfort. “Yeah, I changed direction. It seemed like a better fit.”

Sarah clears her throat, her gaze flickering between you and her boyfriend. “Well, it’s good you found something that works for you.”

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text from the insurance company: “We’ve reviewed the details and confirmed you are at fault. Please provide the contact information for the other party so we can proceed with covering the damage.”

Before you can respond, Rafe’s car pulls up, and you feel a rush of mixed emotions. You glance at Sarah, who seems equally tense, and then back at Rafe as he steps out of the car.

You manage a strained smile as you finish texting the insurance company. The weight of the awkward situation settles heavily on your shoulders. As Rafe approaches, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours, and you see his expression shift from concern to confusion as he takes in the scene. Without needing any introductions, he asks, “Is everything okay?”

You try to sound calm. “Yeah. Just trying to get the insurance stuff sorted out.”

Rafe’s gaze flickers to Sarah, his tension palpable. He doesn’t need any introductions to understand the situation. Sarah’s discomfort is visible as she shifts her weight, unable to meet Rafe’s eyes. Then, Rafe steps close to inspect the accident.

When Sarah’s boyfriend comes closer, he asks, “you talk to insurance yet?”

Before you could answer him, Rafe shields your vision of the man. “Give me your phone. I need to talk to insurance,”

“Oh, yeah sure.” you hand him your phone. “But why?”

He steps so close to you, allowing you to take whiffs of his spicy cologne and the sight of his pretty blue eyes hitting the sun so perfectly. Then his voice drops lower, “I just don’t trust that pogue, maybe he saw your car and decided to break check.”

You blink at him in cluelessness, “why would he do that?”

“To take your money, of course.” Rafe answers. “But don’t worry, I’ll let insurance know how to handle it.”

He takes your phone from your palm, your fingers brushing ever so slightly but still sending shocks throughout the rest of your body nonetheless.

He starts speaking to the insurance company, his voice low and authoritative. You watch him handle the situation with a blend of relief and unease, his presence both a comfort and a complication.

Meanwhile, Sarah stands awkwardly, her gaze flicking between Rafe and the damaged van. Her boyfriend, clearly frustrated, starts to mutter under his breath, but he doesn’t press the issue further with Rafe present.

You can’t ignore the tension in the air. The silence stretches as Rafe talks on the phone, his tone firm and decisive. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly he takes control of the situation, and despite everything, you find yourself grateful for his intervention.

When Rafe finally hangs up, he hands your phone back to you, his expression serious. “I’ve given them the details and made sure they know about the potential for fraud. They’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“Fraud?!” Sarah and her boyfriend repeat in disbelief, and exchange a shocked look before Sarah steps closer to Rafe. Her hands on her hips as she glares at him, “why the fuck would there be a possibility for fraud?”

Rafe meets her gaze evenly, not backing down. “Because it’s not uncommon for people to stage accidents to make a quick buck. It’s better to be cautious and make sure everything is above board.”

Sarah’s eyes narrow, her face flushed with anger. “You don’t know that. You’re just making assumptions.”

Rafe’s tone remains calm, though there’s a hint of annoyance. “I’m just protecting (Y/N). It’s my job to ensure everything is handled properly.”

Sarah’s boyfriend, still simmering, steps forward. “Look, we don’t need any more complications. This is already a mess.”

Sarah only looks between you and Rafe with that look she used to get when she’s connecting dots in her head. You feel like you should avoid her gaze, and cower in shame should she find out. Except, you don’t.

You have nothing to feel shameful about. She did sleep with your boyfriend in high school and betrayed your trust and broke your friendship just like that. So you think she can handle the little discomfort she will get at finding out that you and her brother are dating.

Sarah looks detached, her gaze distant as she processes Rafe’s comments. She pulls her boyfriend away slightly, her voice tight with control. “Fine, we’ll discuss it. Just… (Y/N),” she calls and you look at her as she continues, “give me your number so I can contact you about it.”

Rafe shakes his head, his expression firm, “she’s not giving her number to you. I’ll give mine to your boyfriend instead. He can handle the details and get in touch with me if needed.”

Sarah’s frustration is palpable, but she holds back her retort. She gives a curt nod, accepting the compromise.

Her boyfriend takes out his phone, and Rafe quickly gives him his number. As they exchange contact information, Sarah’s eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—anger, resignation, and something else you can’t quite place.

When Sarah and her boyfriend walk to their van. Rafe looks at your car, “you cannot drive this till it gets fixed.”

“Yeah, it’s another accident asking to happen.” you answer sadly.

“It’s okay though, I’ll take it to the shop and get it fixed for you.” He said, a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding.

“Thank you, Rafe.” you tell him. A switch in your head flips, then you add, “you’re so helpful, I wouldn’t have known what to do without you.”

His eyes slightly widen, taken off-guard at your words and attitude but he doesn’t seem like he hates it. Trying to pretend that you don’t notice the effects your words had on him, you stare at the clock on your phone.

“Your lunch break ends at 1 right?” you ask, and he hums as he directs you to his car that’s parked haphazardly. You climb up to the passenger seat of his car, then buckle in your seatbelt. When he enters his car, you say, “I feel bad for wasting your lunch break.”

“You didn’t, I’m just glad to see you.” he says, and you resist the smile that’s forming on your face but you fail.

He doesn’t see you as he starts his car once again. “I have a little more than twenty five minutes left of my lunch break, so I’ll just drive you home.”

The ride back is quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. You can feel the tension from earlier slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of calm. Rafe’s presence, while sometimes intense, has a way of grounding you. You sneak a glance at him, noticing the way his hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

Seeing Sarah must’ve affected him just as deeply as you—if not more.

You decide that not speaking about it is the best option. If he didn’t bring it up first, then you won’t utter a single word.

The memory of seeing his disowned sister and seeing your ex-best friend would be buried for now.

Thankfully, your house wasn’t that far from the accident place. As you approach your place, Rafe speaks up, breaking the silence. “You sure you’re okay? That was a lot back there.”

You nod, your eyes meeting his briefly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, I guess.”

Rafe pulls up into the driveway of your house and shifts the car into park. “Well, if you need anything, you know you can call me, right?”

His offer is genuine, but there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart skip a beat. You nod again, feeling the weight of the day starting to lift. “Thanks, Rafe. I really appreciate it.”

He turns to face you fully, his expression softening, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, before the moment can stretch too long, you reach for the door handle, “I should probably get inside.”

Rafe nods, he says as he’s watching you hold your purse, “I’ll check in with you later, okay? Make sure everything’s sorted out.”

You step out of the car, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Relief, gratitude, maybe even a bit of something more. Before you could close the door, you linger slightly as he watches you.

He was so helpful and reliable today, and you don’t really want to let him go just yet. You want to talk with him more, be around him. You try to pretend that it’s all for the plan, and not because of a deep want within you.

“Uhm…why…why don’t you come inside?” you ask.

His eyebrows almost raise up to his hairline comically. You look at the black leather of his seats, shyness taking over you. “I could make you a sandwich, I feel bad just for sending you to work like that.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and you fear that it’s a rejection, so you hastily interrupt him as you look at your fingers. “Something quick, I’ll take like one minute making it for you, and your break finishes in exactly twenty minutes.”

“Sure…I’d like that.” he says genuinely, and you finally look up to him to see him smiling.

He kills the engine, and then gets out of his car. You walk side by side to the door, your heart beats faster with each step.

When you reach the door, your fingers fumble slightly with the keys, but you manage to unlock it, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of nervousness.

You walk further inside to the kitchen, feeling his presence following you. As you enter the kitchen, you set your purse on the counter. Then you start gathering the things you need for a simple sandwich from the fridge, and you bring it all to the island.

He sits on one of the chairs facing the island. He looks around a little, taking in the clean kitchen then he asks, “is your mom home?”

You glance at him as you’re taking bread slices out. “Probably not, she might’ve gone out for the afternoon,” you reply, your voice a little quieter than usual as you focus on getting the sandwich together. You can feel Rafe's eyes on you, and it makes your movements slightly more deliberate, more aware of every little thing you’re doing.

He hums in response, leaning back in his chair, still watching you. “How was your pilates class?”

“Oh…I didn’t go, woke up late actually.” you answer honestly. Focusing on spreading the mayo on the other slice of bread.

Rafe’s gaze sharpens slightly as he listens to your response, though he maintains a relaxed posture in the chair. “Woke up late, huh?” His tone is casual, and you don’t think much of it as you focus on the sandwich. His eyes are still fixed on you, watching your every movement with a kind of intensity that you chalk up to concern.

“Yeah, just one of those mornings,” you say lightly, now spreading mustard on the bread. You glance up at him, catching his steady gaze, but it doesn’t faze you—if anything, it makes you feel like he’s paying attention, like he cares.

He hums again, the sound thoughtful. “You know,” he says slowly, “I could help with that. Making sure you don’t miss anything important.”

You look up at him, tilting your head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the island, his eyes still locked on yours. “Just thinking… I could check in on you in the mornings. Make sure you’re up and ready. We wouldn’t want you missing out on anything.”

You smile at the offer, feeling a warmth in your chest. “That’s really sweet of you, Rafe, but I think I just need a better alarm clock.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile, and you take it as a sign that he’s just being his usual considerate self. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, and you hear a touch of amusement in his voice. “But, you know, I’m just a call away. For anything.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” you say, genuinely appreciating his concern. It feels good to have someone who’s so attentive, who seems to genuinely care about the little things in your life.

He watches you for a moment longer, and you assume he’s just making sure you’re okay after the stressful day you’ve had. When he finally leans back in his chair, he says, “No problem. Just looking out for you.”

You finish making the sandwich and place it on a plate, sliding it across the island to him.

“There you go,” you say, stepping back and leaning against the counter, trying to act nonchalant.

“Thanks,” he says, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. While he’s eating you quickly take a clean cup from one of the upper cupboards, open the fridge and pour in orange juice in it. Then you slide it to him again.

You can feel him watching you as you move around the kitchen. You open the drawer and take a new ziploc bag, then head to the pantry and place in four cookies you made. You gasp as you recalled you didn’t even give him water. He watches you with curiosity as you walk once again to the drinks fridge and take a cold water bottle.

He’s halfway finished with his sandwich by the time you slide along the cookies and the water bottle to him.

“Uhm, I made those cookies…a new recipe so I’m proud of them.” You tell him while grinning as you sit next to him.

Rafe looks down at the cookies, then back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he says, though there’s a hint of something warm in his voice, like he’s pleased by the attention.

You shrug, your grin widening. “I wanted to. You’ve been so helpful today, it’s the least I can do.”

He takes the bag of cookies, inspecting them for a moment before glancing back at you. “I’ll have to give these a try later. If they’re as good as this sandwich, I’m sure they’ll be great.” His tone is easygoing, but there’s a spark in his eyes, like he’s enjoying this little routine you’ve set up for him.

You beam at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. “I hope you like them.”

“I think it’s safe to assume there will be a make-up date.” He says casually. You gulp nervously as you look away shyly. “Of course.”

“Tomorrow.” he says.

“I can’t, I have my girls' day plans with Wheezie, remember?” you say.

“Your car will be at the shop, who’s going to be taking you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Probably call an Uber—”

“No Uber.” His tone is final and assertive, but it catches you off-guard as you watch him quietly. So he adds, “if you need someone to drive you anywhere, just call me.”

You fight the urge to refuse. It would be too much of a hassle, but your mother told you many times that men love feeling helpful. So you smile and nod, “sure.” you answer softly.

“Great. I’ll drive you and Wheezie tomorrow then.” He affirms while standing up, then washes his hands in the sink. He grabs the water bottle and the cookie bag and then heads to the front door. You follow him to his car.

Even though he barely has ten minutes to drive to work, he still cranks his window down as you approach it. His smile is soft. “Thanks for the food. I’ll update you later about your car.”

You nod at his words, smiling back too. “Drive safe.”

Rafe’s smile deepens as he hears your soft reply. “I will,” he says, his tone reassuring. He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face like he’s memorizing every detail.

You step back as he starts the car, waving at him as he pulls out of the driveway. There’s a strange warmth in your chest as you watch his car disappear down the street, a mix of emotions you’re not entirely sure how to process. He was so insistent, so protective—it’s nice to have someone who cares that much, you tell yourself.

Out of all your candidates, you know he’s the best. He’s always been responsible.

You don’t want to believe your mother’s theories, but she’s always been right. She did tell you that Kelce is a youngest child, so he’s pretty spoiled and probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and simply would deflect all his responsibilities. Topper is an only child, he’s selfish and stubborn and most likely wouldn’t even understand why you need help in the first place.

Meanwhile Rafe, he’s the oldest brother between his siblings. He’s always knew how to be responsible—even if Ward at first claimed otherwise. You knew that Rafe is a proactive person, he wouldn’t stand still if he knew you had a problem. He would help you if he could, and if he couldn’t, he would try everything to still help.

He's the best candidate, and you would be damned if you just let go of him.

#seducing rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #obx rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #obx rafe cameron x reader

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slowd1ving · 14 days

Note

Kim Dokja with a Sung Jinwoo!Reader and their supporting constellation is Six-Eared Macaque

BAKHT ⁺ ✦ KIM DOKJA

"An existence as lonely as yours... chance has not been kind to you, it seems." It was neither choice nor good fortune that flung you into the rift that divided worlds: suspended in a limbo not of your own making, in a world with no dungeons like yours but 'scenarios' instead. Only the Story reaching its [◼◼◼] and you protecting the protagonist would guarantee your return, but how were you supposed to do that when the 'protagonist' you were meant to protect kept dying? honestly it's been a while since I read both solo levelling and orv so the plot is a bit hazy. I told myself to focus more on the actual interaction so it wouldn't snowball into storybuilding like the rest of my works... but alas... honestly this ask was extremely interesting like I've never read journey to the west but a sung jinwoo/six eared macaque collab??? damn me when I focus on tense first encounters rather than the lovey dovey aspect of relationships.. jokes aside it does get somewhat soft at the very end fun fact bakht refers to fortune in arabic, or rather finding luck in 'chance'; which unfortunately our reader doesn't seem to have a lot of... art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + sung jinwoo gn reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of death, also they're not really on the best of terms initially?? quite graphic depictions of blood wc: 2.7k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the wind carried only premonition in its whispers. It started like all the stories did—the ones that reached your ears, at least. Beginning as a gentle breeze, the songs twining past and future turned coarse as a gale once they encountered the pixelated appendages that seemed to have a life of their own: six downy auricles that were unable to decide whether to stay in the virtual realm or materialise themselves.

Most of the time, they hid in the umbrous kingdom—much like the rest of your shadows. When you donned the façade of the humans from Planetary System 8612, the tales you could eavesdrop on were mere gossip slinking in from the future and the bygone past—tidbits of paltry information that were perhaps divine retribution for not proudly donning the Six-Eared Macaque’s ‘crown’, as he seemed to put it.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the mellifluous litany of your flute was sharper than usual as you idled the time away. Tonight, with only the vast night shielding you and the countless shadows skulking on the rooftop, their dance appeared wilder. There was frenzy in the air, and prophecy tainting the cold, canorous wind.

It tasted acerbic.

‘Danger… horizon…. Dokja….’

The frequency soured the melody that brushed past the fur of your six-ears, and they flicked, irritably.

[The Fake Monkey King warns of something afoot.]

“I know,” you bitterly commented. Something was always afoot when it came to this world in which you did not belong. Falling past the veil separating a dungeon from nothingness wasn’t meant to happen. Your system subsequently trapping you in this limbo until you reached [◼◼◼◼◼], too, wasn’t meant to happen either. Let the Story run its course and protect its ‘protagonist’, and this dimension will naturally collapse just enough that you’ll fall through back into yours.

Kim Dokja, you’d repeated like a mantra while you lost your mind—over and over while your system glitched and protested in this limbo. Over and over, while he died and died and died some more. You’d bought and earned and fought for various potions, weapons and clothes to help him with his scenarios—leaving them in his vicinity where you knew he’d stumble across them—but it was all so fucking futile.

Each time, he returned past the veil; each time, you sank into a deeper mire of restriction. You hadn’t spoken to another soul in months: imprisoned in the very shadows you controlled. It wasn’t as bad, initially: you could still talk to people uninvolved in the ‘Story’, the poor souls dubbed as extras—so long as you didn’t cause any ripples with your actions. If Dokja was accounted for through both the soldiers in his shadow, and the whispers that reached the six ears that fanned out behind your head, it would be fine.

‘Hazard… kilometre north of Dokja’s camp….’

A kilometre. You’d be quiet. You always were.

Dokja. Dokja. Dokja. Your face soured as you exchanged places with Beru: ready to silently act as his guardian shadow, though if he was determined to sacrifice himself… Both of you would pay a price.

The silence in the city was razor-sharp and just as deadly, to the point you could hear the ionic buzz of your summoned demonic knives. Their ozonic scent bitterly filled your mouth, which only amplified the acerbic profanities mingling on your tongue as you glanced around for the danger. What danger? You’d be damned before you were sent back to that empty desert to reflect your wrongdoings. There was no chance to gain anything there—just endless time, chipping your sanity away and stirring up derision for the one who couldn’t solve anything without dying.

Because in the end, both of you would pay the price, and he didn’t even know it. He became a constellation, while you were shackled to a prison that was never of your own making.

Examining the wreck of this urban landscape that felt too much like the Seoul you knew, you came to the abrupt conclusion that there was nothing. Even when your six-ears flicked this way and that, it was too silent. Not a whisper, nor any trace of danger lingered in this space; such an occurrence was nigh-impossible in the scenario-laden dome of this city.

[The Prisoner of the G◼◼◼en Headband expres◼◼◼◼ his mistrust.]

Sun Wukong. A flash of hatred that was not your own wracked your body, complete with a burning envy and something far more insidious than anything you’d ever experienced,

Crackling messages began interfering with your system screen. You’d only seen this once—when you accidentally intruded on the fringes of the ‘Star Stream’ as an ‘unauthorised one’. An anomaly if you ever saw one.

“There’s nothing,” you muttered callously, scraping the tip of your blade against concrete ruins. If it had been a false alarm, then it was time to leave before you risked paying the penalty. Your job was simple—keep watch of the ‘protagonist’ from the shadows, and make his life somewhat easier.

[A nameless constellation argues that advertisements are simply a part of life, and that it’s not a big deal to build suspense.]

That’s weird. The messages were getting clearer, but the warning signs that typically appeared in the system windows weren’t there.

Your own supporting constellation was far too quiet as you sheathed your knife in the shadow dimension—the darkness cradled the weapon softly before it vanished, though the familiar whish could not soothe the unease that distorted your mind. Never had the six-ears failed to pinpoint hazards, as close to omniscient that they were.

“Got you,” something—someone—whispered from afar, the moment you stepped on the next broken slab of pavement and triggered a tripwire. A paltry toy, golden string that was incandescent in this darkened city, wrapped tightly around your body; right before you were shoved against a concrete wall. “You’re not the only one to see the ‘outcome’.”

Stand down, Igris, you commanded as the stranger continued to press into you; you could sense the turbulent shadows growing even more agitated at your position, though all of them could feel the ease with which you could’ve snapped out of the rope that was no more than a thread. The stream was eerily silent, while the glassy window only you could see kept its cold azure colour—nothing like the glaring scarlet that informed you of your penalty.

Who is this?

In the darkness, you made out the shape of a mouth pressed into a thin line. Dark hair partially swept over the stranger’s eyes, while a long white coat draped itself over his shoulders. But it wasn’t the garb, nor was it the features that alerted you of just who this was.

It was the umbrous cloud of his soul, the very one you’d been tracking all these weeks.

“Kim Dokja,” you greeted, half-placidly, half in intrigue. If he could bend the rules of life and death to suit him, you supposed that bending some more rules wouldn’t hurt. The interest was quickly replaced by irritation—for this was the very charge that had continuously shackled you to the in-betweens of the Seoul dome. Not quite a human from this planet, nor a monster—just an abominable anomaly that didn’t belong in this ‘Story’ at all. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

There was a polite smile on your face, but he only scoffed in disbelief. “What the hell are you playing at? Who are you? You think leaving all those materials for me to find will somehow increase your chances to survive? Why are you doing this?”

Incredulity laced each syllable. The Ugliest King stared hard at the face of the Shadow Monarch, though he didn’t know it.

You sympathised, you really did. Having someone trail after you (though he hadn’t mentioned your shadows—did he even notice them?) and leave you useful items might have been convenient to some, but chronic overthinkers (as Beru had reported to you from his shade) wouldn’t see it as such.

But it wasn’t like you had a choice not to, either.

“I just want to get back home.” For the first time, there was a hint of the welling annoyance that seeped through the cracks in your courteous expression: in your grinding molars, in the slight squint of your eyes. Babysitting this guy should have never been part of your job.

Don’t affect the story.

You pressed your lips together to avoid the tide of complaints that swept in. Why do you keep dying? Do you know how much it sucks whenever you do? Why the fuck was I put on babysitting duty?

“Just take the things,” you gritted out instead; to which a sharp blade stung the side of your neck. Quick, but not quick enough to pose a true threat to you. “They were annoying to farm, you know that?”

“I never asked for them, nor do I need them to reach where I want to be. You were never in the original— I can’t exactly trust you now, can I?” he scowled—more ill-tempered than Beru had included in his periodic reports. In a mere second, you surged: as fluid and fast as quicksilver, slamming the guy you’d grown to abhor into the cold, harsh asphalt. There was no apology dripping from your lips this time, only a snarling, bloodied grit of teeth when the penalty began etching into your skin as a direct consequence of laying hands on the ‘untouchable’ protagonist.

Sensing your distress, the six-ears materialised around your face—like they were countering the drip-drip of sanguine that slinked from your nose and onto the shirt of the man beneath you. You watched as you sullied the protagonist you were forced to stay away from—tainted in a way that was sure to finally end you. His dark eyes, too, traced the motion of each crimson rivulet: chest rising and falling desperately as he felt the very real, razor-sharp edge of his own knife lightly against his jugular.

“Listen, I never asked for this either,” you hissed. “Believe it or not, I too want you to reach the conclusion of this shitshow so I can get back home. You need to stay alive for that. I’ll wait.”

The pressure in your head intensified.

“I don’t know how you got past the restrictions on me—” Your grip on his shirt loosened as carmine began seeping into the system window. “—but I can’t stay here any longer without repercussions. Neither can I interfere with the story nor escape this hell—” Dark spots began floating in your vision, and the blade sliced into the concrete a hair's breadth away from his neck with a low-resonating chime. Maybe this was your only chance to make your job easier, without the loss of sanity that came with rule-breaking. “—but if you can’t trust me, trust that your accomplishment of your goal will allow me to get back to my own world as a result.”

“Wait–” Your body swayed as you stood, feeling the familiar frequency of the Stream boot up against the fine down of the six-ears. I don’t have time, you wanted to say, but iron was beginning to leave your lips too.

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband complains loudly that fraternising with the enemy is a horribly stupid move, pulling out his hair.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire is unsure of this development, and would like to be filled in on this stranger’s connection with the Prisoner of the Golden Headband..]

The Star Stream was… clear. Not filled with static like it had been before, but cogent enough that you could observe each message coherently.

[The Star Stream has its eyes on you.]

A terrible foreboding surfaced, while your chest constricted with the sudden onslaught of red that assaulted your eyes—a cacophony of warning signs, all targeted at you.

“What is that?” A hand that wasn’t yours reached for the crimson glow, and you jolted as the cerise shattered: reverting back to the familiar blue interface. The ache in your head, too, vanished—yet the buildup of fatigue was still present in your hazy mind. Though, the only thing you could register was the change in his voice as he observed the screen, an inkling of understanding as he watched the characters fade from existence:

Protect the ‘protagonist’ Kim Dokja. Let the Story run its course, and you will be able to return to your home world.

{The Fourth Wall quietly observes the remnants of its meal.}

Gone, in a wave of his hand. That same hand, now held out to you as if it hadn’t just erased weeks’ worth of strain from your body: long, deft fingers reaching out to you. You could only stare as the world grew dim around you, as a faint voice brushed past the soft fur of your six-ears.

‘Error… error… due to unprecedented actions ◼◼◼◼ taken by the protagonist, the system has now… updated to provide for a deuteragonist model… consi◼◼der standby… updating… updating… ◼◼◼◼◼◼ ◼◼◼◼ objective updated… reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming.’

“What the hell… did you do?” you slurred. The misguided loathing towards him had dissipated into a tumultuous state of frenzy; you could feel the shadows within stir with the agitation of your mind, though you fought to keep your cards at bay. Rather than the hilt of your familiar sword, you thumbed the worn edge of your flute in a last bid to stay calm.

“‘Reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming’, huh?” The incredulity you felt at him repeating the words that only you ever heard was overshadowed by the bone-deep exhaustion you felt.

“Was… being honest,” you mumbled for the last time, fully expecting to feel the frigid asphalt as you collapsed and your eyes came to a close. The lingering penalties had finally taken effect, yet you didn’t quite hit the hard concrete like you anticipated. Rather, you collided against a wiry frame that, despite its initial gauntness, was far warmer than anything you’d felt in these apocalyptic weeks. “I might’ve died if I continued interfering.”

“You won’t die.” The words ghosted over your ear as he stared down at the person in his arms who’d been tracking him for weeks. They’d been a constant pain and irritated him to no end, especially with all the gifts he received that he’d never read about in TWSA; and there was nothing he hadn’t read about in TWSA save for the epilogue. “I won’t let you.”

His very headache was now slumbering in his arms, with only the ambition of going home on their mind.

What a lonely existence.

Maybe you heard him. Maybe you didn’t. All he knew was that he was crafting an epilogue that would shake this very world to its roots, and perhaps there was a small, you-sized shape cut out just for the person snoozing their little heart out. He had a feeling he had only breached the outermost layer of you; peeling back only the very dermis to reveal someone far too overpowered to compete with most of the dome.

Dokja’s thumb traced the bloody lines staining your face. You could faintly feel them; then, abruptly, the citrus smell that lingered on him grew sharper. Closer. A soft pressure applied itself to the crown of your head: fleeting, silvery. What was that?

It was everything that had been forcibly taken from you after you were brought past the void.

With something that was suspiciously close to a smile, your mind drifted away in the arms of someone who both damned you and saved you.

　⁺ ✦

“If Igris and Yoo Joonghyuk fought, who would win?”

“Igris,” you answered without missing a beat. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your face as you opened your mouth, and it was so strong that he almost believed that your Commander could beat the true ‘protagonist’ of this world. “And if he lost, I’d win for him.”

This! This was his chance to get back at that squid bastard!

“...Want to test your hypothesis?”

#kim dokja x reader #kim dokja x male reader #kim dokja x fem reader #gn reader #slowd1ving #res ･ﾟ writing #x reader #ask slowd1ving #request #orv x reader #orv x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader #omniscient reader x reader

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heartsforhavik · 9 months

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Second part of the yandere kung lao? We do not want it we NEED it 🥰

self aware! yandere kung lao x reader PART 2

warnings: obsession, ooc kung lao, gender neutral reader, kung lao has an existential crisis

summary: you’re in the game now, thanks to kung lao dragging you into the mortal kombat 1 universe. but you didn't expect him to be so... suffocating.

a/n: I WAS SURPRISED THAT PEOPLE LIKED THE FIRST PART. i got so many requests for a part two, sooooo here it is. i love self aware fics, and i tried so hard to hold back on turning this into a sagau-cult-au inspired fic. i love reading sagau cult au fics on here bro. maybe someday i'll make self aware mk1 cult au fics

see part one here -> part 1

-you woke up in the nook of an alley, confused on how you got there. but you knew you got transported in the world of mortal kombat. is this just a dream? there's no way you just woke up in a video game.

-you tried pinching yourself, in case you were indeed having a dream. unfortunately, nothing happened. you just landed in mortal kombat somehow.

-the thought of waking up in one of your favorite video games seemed cool at first, but a lot of questions popped into your head. how did you get there? is it a permanent thing? can you escape somehow? does any of this have to do with the kung lao glitches?

-your last question was quickly answered when you heard someone mumbling nearby. the voice sounded too familiar. it was kung lao's voice.

-"where are they..." kung lao mumbled, repeating that phrase every few seconds. was he looking for someone? could it be you he was looking for?

-you wanted to reveal yourself and meet him, but you hesitated. you remembered those weird glitches that happened while you were trying to play the game, so you were slightly creeped out by kung lao.

- a part of you wanted to say something or introduce yourself, but you got a strange feeling in your gut, almost as if you know you shouldn’t trust him. something is wrong about him, really wrong.

- trusting your gut, you ended up hiding from kung lao. as soon as you stopped hearing his mumbling, you got up from your hiding spot, thinking you were safe.

-"found you." kung lao whispered, engulfing you in his arms. apparently you couldn't hide from him. and he really was looking for you after all.

-"it's you.. it's really you..." he repeated, his voice cracking.

-"you know me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "i think you have the wrong person..."

-"why would i have the wrong person? i brought you here for a reason." kung lao replied, not letting go of you.

-you were shocked. *he* was the one that brought you in the game? there's no way...

-"you see, i was tired of being away from you. it was like torture. i needed to feel your warmth, i couldn't bare being stuck behind a screen. besides, it kind of hurt when you kept on shutting the game off and on! did you not want to see me or something?" kung lao teased, casually acting as if you had a close relationship with each other.

-"how did you know you were in a game? and you wanted to feel my... warmth?" you asked, in complete shock from what he was saying. does he care about you or something? but you have never even spoken. obviously you liked kung lao because he was a cool character, but it was never deeper than that. you knew he was just a character and nothing more.

-"of course i did! you know how much i love you, right? i've been showing hints for so long! don't tell me that was for nothing.." he whined.

-he loved you? there was no way. he never even spoken to you! he was a fictional character, and you were just a regular mortal kombat player. it had to be a joke. maybe you were high.

-kung lao got the hint that you were still confused, so he tried to regain your memory.

-"you know.. remember how i gave you all my skins and stuff? that was a lot of hard work, you have no idea how much coding or whatever i had to go through. and i tried talking to you directly, but that was even harder. the most i could do was look at you as often as i could. was that not enough for you?" kung lao explained, sensing that his efforts were all for naught.

-so he was the reason for all those glitches. somehow, kung lao became self-aware... and he made himself the center of attention so he could gain your affection? it sounded extremely bizarre.

-if kung lao was capable of messing with the game and bringing you inside the game, who knew what else he was capable of?

-in fear of angering him, you decided to go along with his little delusions.

-"well, of course i knew! i just needed a reminder, sorry. i'm glad you brought me here, kung lao." you lied.

-upon hearing what you said, a big smile appeared on his face. kung lao was ecstatic that you returned his affections. he worked so hard to show you how much he loves you, and now he finally has the chance to embrace you. he can finally treat you with the love you deserve. he was tired of always seeing you on the other side of the screen, unable to directly interact with you.

-"great! i'm so glad we finally got to meet. i have so much i want to talk about with you, and i just can't wait to spend time with you. you don't understand how long i've been waiting for this moment." kung lao excitedly ranted.

-in that moment, a part of him realized his life was a lie. all the tales he heard of his ancestors, all the adventures and memories he's ever had... were all a figment for a video game. it was a terrible feeling to him, and he refused to face that reality. kung lao preferred to focus on you, instead of worrying. obviously, there was nothing else worth his love and time anymore after learning that his life is a lie.

-kung lao now believes you are a sort of saviour, a light in his fake life. nothing else matters anymore, because he has you now. and you have him too! he'll devote himself to you and provide you with strength, excitement, and love for the rest of your life. nobody is better than him, you should be grateful that you managed to have such a great partner by your side!

-it's not like anyone would be a better choice than him anyway, so don't go off and find someone else, okay? in fact, you probably shouldn't even look at anyone else. kung lao did so much for you and proved that he is worthy of your affections, so there is no reason for you to go after anyone else. if you do, kung lao will... take care of them. nobody will one-up him. nobody will be better than him this time. not on his watch. just this once... he can have something to himself.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #yandere mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #yandere x reader #kung lao #yandere kung lao #kung lao x reader #kung lao mk1 #kung lao mortal kombat

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 months

Note

Hi. I’m sending this anonymously but if tumblr glitches and it isn’t anonymous please don’t post this because I’m absolutely completely entirely mortified.

I’m 20 FtM. About a year and a half ago, when I moved out and started at college, I discovered fandom, and began to get really into reading fics on AO3. My parents had heavily restricted my internet access growing up, and as new adult I began to discovered the barrage of content online.

Soon enough, I was spending about an hour or two every night reading smut fics. I never thought anything of it, because, well, it’s just words, it’s not *actually* porn, right?

Recently I did start watching some explicit videos but tried to limit myself to only once or twice a month because the shame I felt as well as the strange dissatisfaction just wasn’t worth it.

After doing some research, I found a study that said that watching porn for more than an hour a week was unhealthy. I thought, yeah, okay, fair enough.

Then I realised: does my fanfiction reading count as pornography?

I kept thinking to myself that because it was text it didn’t count, but —does it? Is that the reason that lately I’ve been feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty after reading/watching? Will I feel like this when I eventually have sex?? (still a virgin, mainly for dysphoria reasons)

I found all this stuff online that says porn addictions can screw you over for life, that you can’t find sexual satisfaction with a partner.

Should I cut back?

I don’t normally masturbate while consuming porn. I feel too ashamed. I normally just sit there and read/watch.

Am I a porn addict?????? Should I quit reading smut? Help.

If you can’t tell, I wasn’t raised in a very sex positive environment and I feel very ashamed. I don’t really know who to talk to and I just feel very guilty so I’m resorting to an anonymous ask on Tumblr.

If you read this, thank you for taking the time. I appreciate it.

— Jason

hi Jason,

I don't think you're a porn addict. I think you're probably just an anxious 20 year old from a pretty restrictive background and now that you have a little more freedom you're kind of nervous about it, which is very normal.

I want to be super clear: written porn is porn. porn is any sexually explicit material designed to titillate; it's existed since WAY before the moving picture existed and it will exist long after the internet has crumbled to dust. people like porn! and it's okay to like porn. the text-based stuff is particularly high on the list of porn that's pretty unambiguously fine, morally-speaking, because you never have to worry that the performer you're watching has had their video stolen by pornhub or that, god forbid, anyone onscreen isn't a willing participant, but I want to be super clear that liking sexually explicit photos or videos of real people is also 100% fine.

obviously I have no idea what study you read, but I'd be cautious about any study being boiled down to such black and white, attention-grabbing headlines. you can interpret a study to mean virtually anything if you want to, and there are a lot of interest groups with a vested interest in demonizing porn. if reading smutty fan fic makes you happy and isn't interfering with the rest of your life, you should do that.

unfortunately it sounds like it's not making you happy lately, dissatisfied and empty feelings. in the kindest way possible, I don't think much of that is being caused by the porn itself. it sounds like it's coming from your gnawing worry that you're a porn addict. maybe it's best to take a little step away from porn and smutty fic for a while, if only until you feel able to engage with it without feeling bad.

also, speaking of porn addiction: that's a very dubious condition, and one that's not scientifically or medically recognized. to be certain, people can develop a reliance on porn that disrupts their daily function and can wreak havoc on their lives, but that's true of anything that causes your brain to spit out happy chemicals. anything that become a maladaptive coping mechanism, including and especially things that are fine and even necessary in small doses. sleeping, exercising, and going shopping are all things that can be life-ruining if done to harmful excess, but that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you like to sleep in, go for runs, or browse your favorite online stores every once in a while.

if reading smut isn't causing you to skip out on your more important obligations, fail to take care of yourself, or bringing on bankruptcy, I think you're probably alright. the biggest danger I see here is you beating yourself over the head with your own anxiety about this, which may be a sign that it's a good idea to take a step back for entirely different reasons than you were worried about.

#sex edventures 2024

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zombeebunnie · 9 days

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Trembling Essence:💙Clean up changes + New CG💙

Helloo guys and welcome new followers, here's how the game development is going so far!

A very big thank you to the recent influx of interest and comments stemming from my last game development post! I will try to get to everything when I can! :]

Important notice towards updates about Trembling Essence:

For a good while I've been able to post updates about the game's progress weekly! Now that it's getting closer to fall and spooky month(Yay! :]) I am going to continue to be busy so I want to let you guys know that future updates will be irregular. Game development posts will be every 1-4 weeks depending on how things go. :[]

I spent the first few days continuing off from the previous development post by going through the last of The Swamplands and patched some things up! Towards the end of that week however, I got very busy and didn't get a chance to get to the cabin section or much else which is why this was delayed by an extra week so I appreciate the patience! :]

New CG:

I drew up a new CG that you can get depending on your choices when talking to Noah. My play tester saw the first version I colored up but unfortunately the perspective was really off and his shoulders were too wide. I was given a couple of tips and pointers so I redid it and here's how it looks for right now. I couldn't do much else after that. :,,,]]]]

Last bit of clean up changes:

Intro:

When it came to the introduction of Noah, the new parallax effect I added created a small glitch where the HP/COLD indicators were still shown behind CG's during a screen transition. There was some minor dialog adjustments, mainly describing certain situations a bit better. The moments where Noah talks to the player(Y/N) have been tweaked, not by too much but just enough to fill out this section of the game a little more. While I was going through the choices, I came across new dialog I added at some point and never came back to so I fixed it up just a little too. :]

Before:

After:

I altered the choice text for this since the previous wording was a little confusing from my play testers perspective. A good portion of the dialog was fixed and there was going to be a timed situation later on but I decided not to add it since this is a fairly straightforward path.

Chasm Ending:

This ending got expanded by a fair amount mainly because the end is awkwardly abrupt and I didn't like that. I corrected it but the CG you see at this part didn't match the text so I went back one last time and a added visual effect. Overall, this part is done! :]

If you like what I create, please consider supporting what I do on kofi! All donations and tips help tremendously while I continue to work on the game. Thank you to those that optionally bought the [Extended Demo] and the March 2023 demo on itch.io. :,]

Q&A / Ask box is open:

To know and understand Noah through Asks and random posts about lore, they'll be under #Get to know: Noah ! :]

**Some asks won't be answered if it contains spoilers but I do appreciate what I receive. :,,]

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here or on itch.io please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I enjoy hearing from you guys!

I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer them right now since I practice drawing for responses but do know that I've seen them!

This update is getting fairly long so I'll stop here. Again, thank you to everyone for your continued support and influx of interest! I really wasn't expecting any of it since I got very busy towards the end. While I continue working behind the scenes on the game I'll try and respond to stuff/comments I missed! :,]

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year

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Interdimensional Hell - Miguel O'Hara

notes - FOR THE POLL!!!! This has been in the works for a while, but here it is! It's a long ass fic with my whole heart and soul packed into it (+ the beautiful addition of not being proofread lolol) and I am so exited to share! I hope my Miguel lovers enjoy this fic!! <3 word count - 4,060 (omfg this is my longest fic on tumblr LMFAOOOO) WARNINGS - lots of angst, not proofread, f!reader, mentions of a near panic attack summary - you were Miguel O'Hara's wife. You were more than happy to be with someone like him, but was unfortunately taken away from your family when your world was torn apart by what looked like a glitching videogame. Now you travel through dimension after dimension looking for your family and will stop at nothing to do so while also having some fun along the way

“Gabriella!” You were close to tears as your daughter ran to you, jumping into your arms.

“Mamma, did you see that?” she said with a bright smile, sweat beading on her forehead. “When I kicked the ball, it was like BAM and then it went FWOOSH and then we won!!”

“I did see that, baby. I am so darn proud of you.” You pinched her nose, giving it a little kiss as your husband walked up holding an ice cream cone.

“Did you see that, papa?” she asked as he handed her the ice cream.

“Of course I did. You are so talented.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She thanked him for the cone and giggled as he threw her on his back for a piggyback ride.

“You got that on video, didn’t you, Miguel?” you asked, scruffing Gabriella’s hair.

“Yup.” he responded, bouncing Gabriella and telling her how proud he was of her. God, his smile was perfect.

You pulled out the camera from its bag and filmed your husband and daughter. Literally nothing could be better than this.

Gabreiella giggled and made fun of Miguel before slamming the ice cream in his face, the two breaking out in laughter. When he set her on the ground, he gave her a five second head start to run out in the field before he would come after her, telling her to be careful with the ice cream.

He looked up at you and you giggled. “Miguel, you’re face, love.”

“What? What’re you–” he chuckled as he wiped ice cream off of his face. “Did I get it?” he asked.

“Hold on.” You set down the camera and pulled a baby wipe out of your bag, dabbing it on Miguel’s face.

“It’s been five seconds now!” Gabriella shouted from the other side of the field.

Miguel kissed your cheek and dashed after his daughter. You smiled at the camera before turning it off.

Nothing lasts forever.

You heard that from everyone, but you hated that it was true.

Even the happiest month of your life can turn to shit really fast.

When the world started glitching, you thought you were losing your mind. You worked from home and Miguel was out with Gabriella for the day. You looked to the corner of your room and it… glitched. Like something out of a movie. You never told anyone, especially when it kept happening. You thought that no one else saw it, that it was your mind playing tricks.

But when it kept happening, you knew something was wrong.

And when the world ended, you were right, and you knew you would never see your family ever again.

You ran out into the streets and saw people running, the world behind them disappearing, and even some of them faded into nothingness. You wanted to scream, cry, anything. But you froze, watching the colossal whatever it was coming for you. And then you saw something else. It looked different than the giant glitching wall. It was small and no bigger than the gap under a bed. You jumped in without even thinking. You were going to die anyway, so why not be a little reckless?

As you felt like you were falling for days, you thought of your daughter. Why didn’t you go after her? You felt like a terrible mother and curled into a ball, crying. No one was coming to save you and you weren't coming to save anyone. The world wasn’t what it used to be a month ago, a week ago, hell, it wasn’t even this bad a day ago. You cried for your family, knowing that you couldn't do a thing for them and then everything went black.

—

“Is she alive?” you heard a voice say, but couldn't see where it came from.

“I sure hope so. I don't get paid enough for someone to die here.”

“Well check!”

You felt cold hands brush your forehead and you jerked awake, coughing and trying not to scream.

“Woah, woah!” you heard the voice from the start say. “Everything’s fine. We’re not gonna hurt you.” You saw that the voice came from a boy with bright blonde hair and a cybernetic eye.

The other one was a man with brown hair, who looked like he could crush you – tan skin and muscles bigger than you.

You went to say something, but glitched, making the two men jump back.

“Woah there!” the blonde one said. “You’re not from here, are you?”

You just shook your head and could already feel a headache forming.

“I don't have time for this,” the bigger one said. “I have a shop to run.”

“At least give the girl a watch! She looks stressed out enough and I think the last thing we need to do is have her glitching.”

“I think the last thing we need to do is deal with someone that isn't from here. That happens far too often, don't you think, Spike? You have too much sympathy for the outsiders.”

“And what if I do?” Spike asked, crossing his arms. “I don't think you have enough, Wade.”

Spike walked away from you and opened a large cabinet from above Wade’s head, pulling out a bright green watch. He slipped it on your wrist and proceeded to click a few buttons and everything tense inside of you strangely managed to slip away.

You took a deep breath and smiled at Spike. “Thank you,” you said to him. “It’s been a really long day.”

“I can tell,” he chuckled. “First time out of your dimension?”

You nodded and adjusted the watch.

“Well, make sure to keep that bad boy locked in place. Don't want to be outside of your dimension without one or else… well, think bad, but worse.” He sat in a rolly chair and spun to his computer. “Can you do me a favor, missy?”

“Anything.” you said. He had been more than willing to help you, so you were more than willing to do the same.

“Stand on that little circle over there for me.” He pointed to a large purple circle in the middle of the room and you tilted your head, but still walked over to it with no hesitation.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“I'm gonna scan you, but don't be scared. This bad boy will help you get home safe.”

You went to speak up, telling him that you weren’t so sure it was a good idea, but he interrupted you.

“Wade, help me out here! Let’s get her out of here.”

“Finally.” Wade scoffed. He walked over to you and held your arms up, strapping them to two mechanical devices on either side of you that then held your arms to make you in the shape of a Y.

“This won't hurt a bit, doll.” Spike said, clicking a button on his computer. A bright light scanned you up and down and you looked at Spike, who held his chin and tilted his head. “Huh. That’s weird. Let me try again.” He clicked the button again and looked at you with confusion. When the cycle finished, he looked astonished. “Babe, where did you say you were from again?”

“That’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you.” you said, shuffling in your spot. “My world was a big glitching mess. And then I found a little hole and appeared here. I don't know if I have a home anymore.”

Wade sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “Great,” he whispered. “This can't be good.”

Spike leaned back in his chair and looked at the confusion on your face. “This isn’t your fault, love. But bad news, you can't go home. Because uh… I don't think home exists for you.”

All you remember after that was crying. You sat on the floor after the devices let you go and Spike rubbed your back, reassuring you that everything was going to be okay.

Of course, you knew that everything wasn’t going to be okay.

You were already exhausted and you realized it hadn’t even been a day.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you asked, playing with the watch you were given.

“I would be more than happy to let you stay here,” Spike said, rubbing your back. “We have an extra room, we just have to clean it out a bit.”

“I don't want to be a burden.”

“It’ll just be for a little while,” he reassured you. “Now, I know this cyberpunk city of ours can seem like a lot once you step out of this little shop, but I think after a little bit of time, you can find a job and even your own home.”

You just nodded. You didn't have a clue what the word “cyberpunk” meant, but it sounded interesting enough. After realizing that you were still on the floor, you finally stood up and looked around the little place you were in. There were light up trinkets and soft beeps coming from either side of the room. It was so overwhelming. At home you were able to just sit on a couch and watch TV and in here, it looked like the only place you could rest was a chair that could roll across the floor.

To get your bearings wherever you were, you opened the front door and were immediately overstimulated. There were loud sirens, people yelling, doors slamming, advertisements that were yelling about various products, etc.

You quickly shut the door behind you and Wade laughed at the expression on your face.

“What’s so funny?” you scoffed.

He just waved you off and Spike walked over to you. “Wade and I know exactly how you feel. We were just as overwhelmed when we ended up here.”

“You’re not from here?”

“Nope! So, don't worry, your reaction and overwhelmingness is completely normal. Do you want something to eat?”

You hadn't even thought about food, but when asked the question, noticed how hungry you really were. “Yes please.” you said softly.

Spike walked down a long hall and you followed, not wanting to be left alone with Wade.

“So what was your home like?” he asked.

“Normal.” you laughed. You really didn't know how to answer that question.

He laughed back. “Not like this at all, I'm guessing.”

“Not at all.”

“See, ours was kind of like this,” Spike said as you got to the kitchen. “It was very techy, so we immediately knew what to do when we started ‘glitching’ if that’s what you wanna call it. We also know how to travel interdimensionally. That's how we ended up here. We traveled outside of our home and never found a way to get back. That machine couldn’t even tell us. I think what happened to your home also happened to ours while we were gone.”

“That sounds awful.”

Spike laughed. “Yeah, definitely awful. We’ve traveled everywhere, it feels like, but we just never found home. This was almost the closest to it. It looks like home in the future.”

“That makes sense.” It didn't, but it did. You didn't know how else to share your sympathy with him, especially considering the whole thing felt like an awful dream that you would never wake up from.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked you as he slid over your plate.

“No clue,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s delusional, but I want to find my family.”

“You found a way out. So maybe they did too.”

Just those few words from Spike’s mouth gave you hope. Perhaps too much.

—

Learning new things is really difficult, but you found yourself learning how to travel through space and time to be a piece of cake, to your surprise.

That hope that Spike had engraved in you when you first met years ago was still stuck in you and would always be until you found your family.

Even if you had to search until the day you died, you would be satisfied.

The craziest part of the whole thing though was that you became someone completely different over the years. You found yourself learning how to make your own tech to make interdimensionally traveling easier and buying clothes that made you look much different than you did back at home.

But you were lonely.

You met so many lovely people on your journey through this new life you created for yourself over the years, but none of them would stay like Miguel did. You even eventually drifted from Spike and Wade, getting your own house and having your own machines.

You would curl up and eat dinner by yourself on the balcony, dreaming to be in Miguel’s arms and listen to him hum a song to you in his deep voice.

—

“Hey, Miguel.” Lyla said, blowing on her nails she recently painted. “Whatcha doin?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed. “Working. What does it look like I'm doing?”

“It looks like you're pouting. Not working. Nice try, but you can't fool me, buddy.” Lyla smirked.

“I'm not pouting! Why would I be pouting, Lyla? Hm? Now could you please leave me alone? You’re ruining my train of thought.”

“Now that’s just mean.” Lyla pouted.

Miguel blew a piece of his hair out of his eye and tried to sweep her away, which ended up making her leave with a giggle.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before turning back on his monitor to see your face.

“Miguel!” you giggled. “Smile for the camera.” You turned the camera to a happier Miguel. Someone who actually had a smile on his face.

A stranger.

Miguel quickly shut the monitor off before he would let himself be brought to tears. It was his fault you were gone. It was his fault he was in his current position. If he didn't fuck everything up and pretend he was your husband, none of this would’ve happened.

“Lyla, I'm going out.”

“Huh? Where?” She appeared with a digital Slurpee and tilted her head.

“Just out.”

“Bored outta your mind, big boss man.”

“Sure, whatever, just leave me alone.”

Lyla saluted and faded away. He didn't know where to go, but he would just go. With the power of the entire multiverse at his hands, it was hard to just find one place to go, but even so, it was nice to breathe some fresh air in other places.

Plus with the chance of seeing you…

He pulled the thought out of his mind. He watched his daughter fade away in his arms, there was no way that you were okay too. And god, did he hate himself for it. But even so, he repressed the feelings and journeyed to other universes, meeting other Spidermen and even greater foes – eyebags and all.

—

Where the hell am I? you thought as you ended up in a dimension unlike any you had been to before. It was so different from the others that for the first time in years, you actually had to pause.

You placed your hands on your hips and looked at the world around you. It reminded you of playing video games where you would go to other worlds and you yourself would change textures to match the ones around you. Unfortunately, the texture didn't go with you, so you were left as an actual human in a cartoon world.

The life you were living was definitely a dreamlike state and the thought of it made you laugh as you led yourself through the city.

This was the part you actually loved. You got to see what life was like for others through different dimensions and the struggles they had to deal with. Granted, it wasn't much different from your life when you weren’t forced to live like this, but either way, you still found it fun to see how different, yet similar it really was.

Sometimes you would end up in dimensions you had been to a thousand times or sometimes you would end up somewhere new.

Your favorite part though: everywhere had a Spiderman. And every Spiderman was just as unique as the last.

In this world, it seemed to be some pig, which was both hilarious and intriguing. You had seen a lot in your day, but never a pig Spiderman. You loved it though and seeing posters of him around this odd city made you laugh.

But you knew it was time to leave the moment you stepped in. You liked the crazy stuff, but this was a little too crazy for your liking.

Right as you opened a portal though, you heard a loud sound not too far away from you. You figured it was a fight that Spiderpig had gotten himself into, and were ready to leave, but you turned around to see something much crazier.

Not only was Spiderpig fighting, but there was another Spiderman with him. You couldn't help but stand in awe after you closed the portal you made.

He was dressed in dark blue and red and didn't look at all like the other Spidermen you had seen before. Something about him was not only different, but so so intriguing.

The fight didn't last long since the two were working hard to get it done quickly. So when they did finish, the tall Spiderman put Spiderpig on his shoulders and gave him a fistbump.

You had only noticed you were still just standing in the street and staring when the Spiderman froze.

You giggled nervously and muttered out a quick “good job guys” before turning down an alleyway so you could teleport out of there.

But right as you began down the alley, you felt something grab your wrist. When you turned around, it was that tall Spiderman, who tilted his head at you.

“y/n?” he said.

You took a step back. “S-Sorry?”

“Is your name y/n?”

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms before opening a portal very much like your own.

You ended up in a world with complete darkness, minus the bright yellow computers surrounding the walls. You looked at the place with curiosity, but were quickly pulled from your thoughts when you saw the Spiderman pacing the room back and forth and muttering to himself.

“Hey, are you alright?” you chuckled.

“How are you… How did you… Hold on, I need a minute.” He finally sat down and grabbed his chin. “Were you married?”

You laughed, thinking this was some sort of joke. “Yes, I was. To a man named Miguel. Why?”

“What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“How are you alive?!”

Just then, you recognized that voice. Everything from your past hit you like a semi and you fell to your knees, tears immediately filling your sockets.

“M-Miguel? Miguel, is that you?” you managed to get out.

The mask of his Spider-suit dematerialized and he looked at you with shock.

You looked at him the same and felt like you couldn't breathe. After all those years. After all that searching…

He ran to you and dropped on his knees, pushing your hair out of your face. “How did you…”

“How did you?” you giggled somehow, grabbing Miguel’s face and looking it over. Despite the eyebags and the new muscular features, that man was definitely your husband.

“I…” he started, but you pulled him into your arms. You hugged him until neither of you could breathe.

When you pulled away, you looked at him with so much excitement that it made him regret everything. He had lied to you for years and you were looking at him the same way you looked at your real husband who died.

“I can't believe you made it out alive, Miggy! Where’s Gabriella? I bet she’s all grown up and–”

“G-Gabriella’s gone.” The words felt like another 100 lbs weighed his chest down.

You looked at him with confusion. “She didn't make it?” you asked softly.

“No. She didn't. This is all my fault.” he buried his face in his hands.

“No it's not. How could any of this be your fault?” you rubbed his back.

“No, y/n,” he scooted back, every regret from his life filling him up and making him on the near edge of a panic attack. “This is my fault. I made this happen.”

“Miguel, I–”

“I'm not even your husband!” he cried out. He never felt like this before. He didn't even feel like Miguel. But something cracked in him when he saw you, and it was going to end up killing him if he didn't talk to you about it.

You laughed. “What? Of course you are.”

“Your husband died a very long time ago.”

“I'm so confused.” you admitted.

“I know. And I'm sorry.” he pulled you closer and sat down on the floor next to you. “Look, I was your husband. At least for a while. A couple months maybe. But your real husband… the Miguel O’Hara from your world… he died. I took his place. I wanted to be happy.” Slowly, the feeling of the near panic attack was going away the more he spoke to you. He explained everything. About how much he truly loved you and about how much he regretted destroying everything, including your daughter. He told you that he was selfish for what he did and admitted that if he could go back and never be with you just so you could have a fulfilled life with Gabriella and no Miguel, everything would be fine. He explained canon events and how the world worked for Spidermen like him and the rest of the multiverse.

Everything was so confusing, but based on everything you had been through, you weren't surprised.

You had seemingly loved a stranger for months and didn't even know it. But… he wasn't, that was the most confusing part. That man, Miguel O’Hara. Spiderman 2099. That was the man you fell in love with, even if you weren't a part of his dimension.

The whole situation shocked you to your core, but there was no going back now.

You laughed for some reason when he was done telling you everything. You really couldn't believe it. But again, you weren't surprised.

Miguel didn't mean to spill everything onto you, but it made him feel so much better. Tears were streaming down his face and he was trying to repress them when he saw how confused you looked.

“y/n, I am so sorr–”

You quickly cut him off by pulling him into your arms. Real husband or not, this poor man had to suffer through everything and now has the whole multiverse on his back to take care of because he feels like it’s his responsibility. He blamed himself for everything for years all because of a stupid accident.

But you weren't mad. He didn't know what would happen and all he wanted was to be happy. You didn't want to put more on him, so you just held him for a moment and let him sit there with you in silence.

Even if you didn't know this Miguel as well as you knew your husband, he was still Miguel.

“Don't blame yourself,” you whispered. “It's okay.”

He just pulled back from the hug and wiped his hair out of his face. “I'm sorry you had to live like you have been.” he told you.

“It was kinda fun.” You hugged your knees.

“The multiverse is definitely something, huh?”

You smiled and cupped Miguel’s face in your hands. You had been traveling for years all for this. Granted, you got a story out of it that you weren't expecting, but still. Miguel was in front of you again and you felt strangely at home.

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “I wanna try this again.” you said. “With us.”

“What do you mean?”

“First.” You pulled him by the front of his suit and pressed a long and needed kiss to his lips. He melted to your lips quickly, but the feeling ended quickly when you pulled away.

“What do you mean ‘try again?’ ” he asked.

“I'm y/n.” You stuck out your hand and smiled at him.

“I'm Miguel.” He took your hand and sighed with relief.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Maybe we should go on a date sometime.”

~~~~~

into the spiderverse masterlist | pinned post 2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

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