#Been meaning to share this bit of lore for a while!!

[corovera]

Ohhhhkay, this is going to be a long one.

First of all, define “lives.” If you mean exists, then that’s not an AU, that’s canon as of 5.3. Which…you all probably know already. Sometimes I’ve found it hard to tell who didn’t get the memo, who acknowledges but chooses not to focus on it, and who’s intentionally ignoring it because they’re uncomfortable with it or feel like it’s worse, which…fair enough.

To be fair, it doesn’t get acknowledged much or elaborated upon in-game, which IMO is a bit crazy-making. From a writing standpoint, I get why it’s like that (his arc’s over, it would cheapen things if it happened too often, etc.), but I miss him, dammit! We’re really overdue for him to chime in on something, but I get that there needs to be a good reason. Maybe when they’re able to connect to the First properly? I could see a brief comment on that.

At least find an excuse to namedrop him and give him a codex entry so all this out-of-game stuff from the lore books and the concert last year can be in the game! Is that too much to ask?

…Anyway. I have a ton of headcanons about the details. I don’t think it’s quite what OP means, since it’s not an AU where he’s /alive/-alive, it’s taking what little we’ve been given and running with it, but I’ll share anyway if that’s OK.

For Syrene’s canon, sometimes he’s actively experiencing things through her (always vision and hearing, but other senses if he chooses) and sometimes he’s asleep or only partially aware of what’s up. Partial awareness (he compares it to dreaming about someone else) means he remembers what she was doing once he’s fully awake, so he usually prefers that over sleeping too much when she’s awake. If he wants to, he can retreat to a cozy inner world of sorts that looks by default like a miniature aetherial sea, so he doesn’t have to watch all the time, but he likes to.

They can and frequently do communicate - not usually with words, but there’s enough overlap between them for intent and emotion to come across, and they’ve gotten good enough at reading each other for it to be effective. Sometimes the emotional overlap makes things tricky - if they’re both feeling something strongly, it can create a feedback loop of sorts and make it that much more intense. Took a lot of getting used to. Endwalker was A Time.

It’s not like hearing voices, but she can tell what he wants to say, if that makes any sense. Basically, I’m sticking to the letter of the concert bit that says they can’t usually talk, but not the spirit of it. Because…we did hear him? Before the fight with Eldibus? I’ve wondered some if that statement was meant for us, the players, and not the WoL in universe, because while it’d explain some things, it still doesn’t quite seem right. Also, I will happily take advantage of dream-sharing being on the table as of that same lore.

Anyway, they don’t share all their memories, but they can dig through each other’s if they choose to. They have an unspoken agreement to only do it with permission, or when they’re shared freely.

Going off how he talked to Seto that one time, he can borrow her body with her consent, but rarely does. More frequently, they use a smaller-scale version of this to talk out loud in private if there’s something too complicated for their usual communication to work. This also means he can talk to other people through her, but it takes a long time before he’s comfortable doing that, and only with certain people.

I’m thinking at some point (maybe after Endwalker?) Syrene’s able to figure something out using Azem’s crystal to give him temporary form so that they can either interact face-to-face or have a break from each other.

The Scions and some of her friends and family know about all of this, but the general public does not, and they want to keep it that way.

In general, they’re both happy with the way things turned out, and for me, that’s the most important part.

I don’t ship them, for the record - I see his and Syrene’s relationship as queerplatonic. Just because I’ve had a huge crush on him for a year and a half doesn’t mean she does!

ardbert lives au enjoyers: what is your explanation for it?

[quitedisastrous]

drew the most delightful fat anthro tiger because i had the idea to do a tiger pops themed design just to fumble around for a few hours and give up because i don't know how to deal with both the color mixing of the tiger pop and the tiger stripes. sucks but i can always come back to it later i guess. bigger issue is now i have to decide if i want to leave my beautiful lines for it or if i should just figure out another theme

[neptunecaptains]

Homecoming

Pairing: Commander!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve's back home after a mission.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f receiving), face-sitting, mild dirty talk, repressed feelings (slight angst), established relationship.

A/N: I haven't written fic in a long time and it probably reads like it. I haven't seen anything MCU since Dr. Strange 2/Spidey until Thunderbolts yesterday so not caught up on the lore. This popped up in my brain after a nap on Wednesday. Let me know what you think!

♡♡♡♡

It’s quiet when he comes in.

Sometime between your drifting off and the quiet snick of the bedroom door shutting, you’re aware of the time. The numbers on your bedside read 3:07AM.

A late arrival, then.

A firm, broad chest pressed up against your back, heavy arm slung low over your waist. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and the slow sigh of relief once he’s pulled you back into him just a little.

“Hi,” Steve says.

You hum, one hand patting his own over your belly. “Hi.”

Slow, measured breaths tickle your skin, the quiet of the room only disrupted by a soft kiss to your shoulder, the nape of your neck. It’s a little while before either of you speak again.

You know Steve needs it, the comedown after a big mission.

It always starts off predictable enough— get to the Avengers compound, debrief, chew someone out if they were being stupid and reckless on the job or gently bring them back down if there were any losses, shower, return his suit and weapons, a brief psych evaluation and physical check for injuries, then get on the road back to the city.

Once he’s walking through your front door, though, it’s not until you get a good look at him that you can know how things went. Still, it’s always Steve.

“You’re back,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Steve’s arm around your waist tightens, warmth of his skin seeping into your own over the fabric of your sleep shirt. It’s one of his, an old, worn thing he bought in Jersey back when he’d first woken up. There’s a couple of loose threads coming from the left sleeve and an old stain at the hem that you swear is blood — Steve refuses to confirm or deny it — but it’s and it’s yours and you wear it to bed more times than not. 

“I am,” Steve’s mouth brushes your skin where the shirt’s slipped a little, goosebumps following their trace. His beard’s gotten a little longer, a testament to how much time he’s been away from the comforts of home and his electric trimmer. “Debrief ended about an hour ago, but I stayed for a bit to plan my agenda for tomorrow.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, you turn in his embrace. “You have an assistant for that, Commander.”

Steve chuckles, a soft, sleepy sound settling warm in your heart. He turns on his back, bringing you up into his chest, willing you closer, sighing into your hair.

His breathing’s slowed enough that you briefly wonder if he’s fallen asleep, though after almost a year of sharing a bed means you’ve caught to his tells that he has yet to drift off— the tension in his arms, the quiet, intermittent sniffles he gets before he knocks out, the fact that he’s barely really said a word about the mission at all.

“Good trip?” you murmur.

You feel him shrug, sheets rustling beneath him and that just—

Pushing off his chest, you sit up to turn on the bedside lamp. Soft, warm light fills the room, dim enough to not make your eyes hurt.

Something else does, though.

“Steve…”

A cut over his eyebrow and a bruise already turning yellow on his left temple. Red-rimmed eyes and a swollen lip. Somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt, a thin, red line extends up the side of his neck, already healing. You watch him wince when you lie a hand on his stomach, feeling the taut muscles there contract.

Your words fail, throat closing up. One of his hands wraps around your wrist, big and warm and comforting, even though you should be the one comforting him right now.

“Looks worse than it is,” Steve shrugs again. This time, you catch the way his lips thin out just a little, the slight twitch in his eye at the movement. “Y’know I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m used to it.”

At that, Steve’s fingers squeeze your wrist. He knows it’s hard for you, keeping up with what he does for a living. Technically, he could’ve retired years ago, but there’s something to be said about his insatiable need to do something to feel useful.

You know he’s talked about it with his therapist, and even Bucky and Natasha had tried to talk some sense into him about taking things easy, slowing down, moving into a less-exposed role once he’d handed the shield to Sam. But Steve Rogers is nothing if not stubborn, so he’d been made Commander and only deploys to missions that really need him. But he still deploys.

Steve’s thumb brushes over your skin, eyes on yours in the dim light, a quiet apology for now. You can’t help but let it go, leaning in to finally kiss him.

It’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. Mouths slotted perfectly over each other, Steve’s tongue only slightly running over your bottom lip until you open up for him, let yourself slide back down on the bed with him.

“I missed you,” you murmur, lips brushing his own. “A lot.”

“Missed you too, honey,” Steve sighs into the kiss. “A lot.”

He guides you to sit on his lap, the cradle of his hips warm and strong beneath your thighs. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweatpants, can’t help but settle fully onto him as you stretch over his torso.

Steve tastes like mint and iron, undoubtedly from the injury to his lip, but you’ll have him like this and any other way you can get him as long as he gets to come back home. He sighs into the kiss, reaching a hand to cup your neck and angle your head the way he wants, the other slowly making its way down your back to rest above your ass. He swallows your resulting sound, making one of his own when you break the kiss.

You pull back, eyeing him suspiciously. “Steve.”

His hand doesn’t move, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your underwear. They rest there while he looks at you, a question in his eyes. The bruise on his temple will be gone in the morning, same as the cut on his brow, but you can’t help but wonder how he got them, who he had to fight this time around.

He can tell you’re distracted, hand on your nape squeezing briefly as if to bring you back to him.

“Honey,” he says and you sigh.

Steve lets you sit up again, hands slipping from your body to rest on your thigh as you sit cross-legged next to him. His half-lidded gaze meets yours, thumb brushing slowly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He watches you for a minute, assessing, waiting for you to answer.

In the end, it’s only right to try to be the sensible one in this situation. “You’re still in pain, Steve.”

He shakes his head, squeezing your thigh softly. “Not that much. Just— I need to think about something else right now. Can’t sleep yet.”

This has happened before, a few times.

It didn’t when you’d first started dating. Being one of Steve’s only relationships since he came out of the ice meant he’d had time to work through some stuff on his own before he tried to be with someone else, so when he’d had difficult missions at the beginning of your courtship, he’d always been upfront about needing some time before he could talk to you about them.

Lately, though, something’s been happening. Every other mission seems to be more taxing than the last.

You’re sure you’re wholly unclassified to know any of the information Steve eventually divulges, even if unspecific, but it’s specific enough to worry you. He never tells you exactly what happens, but the mornings and days after he’s managed to work through whatever he needs by working you, he makes it clear that whatever they’re fighting isn’t just the universe’s bad guy of the month.

You’re not totally complaining, but you are concerned that your boyfriend needs to blow off steam in such a way before he even considers facing his feelings.

Steve’s hands on your skin bring you back to reality once more. He’s still there, in your bed, gaze questioning, wondering where you went.

You’re sure he has an idea, but it’s not something he’s willing to address tonight.

“Please, honey,” he says. “C’n sit on my face, I won’t have to put in much effort that way.”

Steve adds the last bit as if it’s nothing, but the thought of it alone sends a flash of heat down your spine.

“You always put in effort,” you concede a little, laying a hand on his stomach where his shirt’s ridden up, thumb brushing beneath his navel.

Steve smiles at that, slowly reaching for your hand and helping you rest back on his lap. He holds your hand on his stomach, the other resting on your hip once more.

“‘S that a yes? Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He asks and your resolve is slipping by the second.

You try one last time, though. Need to make it clear where you’ve gone the past few times in as many minutes. “Promise to talk to me in the morning?”

“Promise.” Steve’s answer is emphatic, the hand laced with yours squeezing sure and strong. “Just need to focus on something else right now.”

And so you nod, leaning back a little when Steve sits up to capture your lips once again. He winces as he does so, but smooths a hand down your side while he shushes you, tries to ease your worries.

His hands reach beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts, pressing you into him, roaming over your ass and your thighs as he takes your breath away. Breaking the kiss after a while, he takes a good look at you, lips a little red and swollen beneath his beard.

“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, lying back down. He looks so broad like this, laid out only for you. “Love seeing you in my clothes.”

Heat blooms low in your belly at the praise, flashes even hotter when you feel the faint line of Steve’s cock pressing into you.

“Yeah?” you ask, brow raised and a teasing grin upon your lips. “Gonna be you for Halloween this year, wear your stealth suit.”

Given Steve’s resulting blush, he didn’t expect that as an answer. He goes silent for a minute, gaze heavy on you, thumbs slipping beneath your waistband once more, stroking over your hip bones.

Laughing, you let yourself fall forward onto his chest, careful not to rest too heavily on him. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not my fault you look good in everything,” Steve says, sheepish. He helps you sit back up on his lap, big hands back on your thighs. “Maybe the techs can make a version just for you. We could use it.”

“For what purposes, sir?” You snort, shaking your head when Steve gives you a slow onceover. “You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugs, smirking and pretty, brief embarrassment gone. “I’m a paragon of duty and righteousness, I’ll have you know.”

You shake your head at him again, unable to help the smile that comes on.

“Up, baby.”

He helps you get your underwear off, first through one leg then the other, then helps you scoot up his torso and towards his face. Fingers laced with yours next to your legs, he helps you settle above him, the prickly brush of his beard on your inner thighs as he brushes kisses there making you shiver.

“Already, honey?” Steve murmurs into your skin, heavy-lidded gaze locked on yours. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You feel yourself flush, only made worse by Steve softly blowing on your cunt before he gives you one long, teasing lick. Then a second, and a third. He pulls you fully down on his tongue, holding tight onto your hips so you have nowhere to go.

“Steve,” you gasp, tugging on his hair.

Steve growls low in his chest at the feeling, beginning to lap at you in short strokes, sucking at your folds, making it so wet and messy you’re sure it’s dripping down his chin.

“Want you to come on my tongue,” Steve murmurs.

He places a loud kiss to your folds, gaze locking on yours just to make sure you heard him, only going back to task once he gets a shaky nod from you.

Grinding on his tongue, sounds wet and loud in the otherwise quiet room. Steve’s hands settle on your ass, helping you move on him as he fully flattens his tongue. He switches up his rhythm, slow broad licks all over your cunt making you shiver.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.”

You feel rather than hear him chuckle at that, teeth nipping at your inner thigh. He dives right back in, eyelashes fluttering closed, mouth closing softly around your clit. You shiver, tugging on his hair again as your thighs close around his head.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moan, the coil low in your belly dissolving into warm static spreading through your limbs.

It’s a minute before you fully come to, shaking a little through Steve cleaning you up with his tongue and soft kisses to your thighs. He lies you back onto the bed, gathering you up in his arms again all while murmuring soft and sweet. Pressing chaste kisses to your lips, he answers your quiet noises with his own, nosing at you as your eyes open once more.

“Back with me?” he says, face brightening at your soft sound. “There she is.”

You hum, burying your face in his neck. “My ears are ringing.”

Steve lets out an actual belly laugh at that, his entire body shaking with it, your own heart glowing from it. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groan, weakly pushing at his chest. Placing a soft kiss on his jaw at his half-hearted ow, you let yourself fully sink into him, sighing softly when you feel him do the same. Finally ready to sleep now, then. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

Steve brushes a kiss along your forehead. “Me too, honey,” he says, words coming slow and sleepy now. “Me too.”

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Wonder Woman

@actuel-idiot is a major reason I’m writing this! They gave me the idea so the credit goes to them.

Diana has a special relationship with Captain Marvel. They’re family. Technically. But they’re family! The man has no problem treating her like one of his own, and it’s not like Diana has any of her other family in man’s world so she’ll take what she can get. The only downside is that no one knows his actual identity, including Diana. Half the people in the JL don’t even believe he has one, but when Diana asked, he confirmed he did. She hoped that one day he would share his identity with her, but for the meantime, she’d just continue to enjoy their bond.

Like, for example, Diana talks to Marvel whenever she misses Themyscira. The very first time she started missing her home was about a few weeks after the JL formed. (Marvel’s a founding member in this post)

WW: “Captain, do you ever miss home?”

Marvel: “Hm? I guess so?” *confused*

WW: “You guess so? Do you not miss Olympus? I assume that’s where you grew up.”

Marvel: “Oh, no. I’ve never been to Olympus. If that’s what you mean by home. It isn’t.”

WW: “Then where is your home?”

Marvel: “Well, I haven’t had a home in a long time. So, I can’t particularly say. All I know is that I can’t go back, and as the years go by, I hate to say it but I barely remember it.” He only knows what his dad looks like due to his Marvel form, and he only remembers his mom due to Mary’s form. As for what they were like? A lot of the memories are fuzzy. “So, unfortunately… there isn’t really much to miss.”

WW: “Do you think I’ll forget about Themyscira?”

Marvel: “I don’t know. But that’s why it’s important to make a home wherever you go. That, and if you really don’t wanna forget, you can always try and find people who used to call your home theirs.” *shrugs*

WW: “I don’t believe there are any other Amazonians and man’s world.”

Marvel: “Well… not technically.” *little smile* “You know, a few thousand years ago I was an Amazonian at some point.”

WW: “What…?”

Marvel: “Shocking. I know.” *little laugh*

WW: “But you’re a man?” *dumbfounded expression*

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t always. If you want, I could tell you some stuff about the first island.”

WW: “The first Themyscira? You were alive back then?”

Marvel: “Yup.”

WW: *stares for a bit* “I’d… I’d like that a lot. Please share.”

The two spend the rest of the evening talking about all the lore about Themyscira, Diana’s mother, Diana’s aunts, the culture back then, the dialects, and so on.

Then, there was the incident with Circe. She had cast a spell on Diana, turning her into a child. After it had happened, she left and soon a mini Diana was swarmed by the leaguers.

Marvel: “Wait, so she still knows who we all are, she’s just a little kid?”

Batman: *nods head* “Correct.”

WW: *looking around as the other leaguers fawn over her cause she’s adorable*

Batman: “It also altered her mindset, making her more childish.”

WW: *spots Marvel and her eyes sparkle* “Big brother!” *runs over to Marvel and crashes into his legs hugging them*

Marvel: “Woah!” *slightly startled at her running over* “Wow, Diana, you’re still so strong.” *takes on the tone he uses to talk to Darla (aka big brother/father tone) as he leans down to pick her up*

WW: *nods head* “Yeah!”

Marvel: *moves to carry her like she’s his own daughter*

The two proceed to talk about whatever as the other JL members coo at the two looking like father and daughter. Same black hair and blue eyes. Also, Zeus was gnawing at the bars of his metaphorical cage when he saw this. His daughter was too precious. As soon as the other leaguers blinked, he took little Diana and they proceeded to go fight Mr.Mind together. They then went for ice cream afterwords. Now, they’re eating their respective cones while sitting on the edge of a building.

Marvel: “You did such a good job, Diana. That one punch at that one robot that sent it flying into three other ones was amazing.” *smiles and ruffles Diana’s hair*

WW: *giggles and licks ice cream* “Thanks, dad.”

Marvel: *pauses mid bite of ice cream* (Yes, I’m making Billy bite his ice cream)

WW: *doesn’t even realize she said that*

Zeus: “You… YOU STOLE MY DAUGHTER?!” *thunderclouds in the distance*

Billy proceeded to have to make many offerings to Zeus to make him calm down after the incident. For a week straight, he kept getting little shocks whenever he touched stuff.

[obbystars]

Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

[nanenna]

This Group Chat Could've Been a Meeting

Sleepy King AU masterpost

Yeah... don't expect me to keep churning these out. I was just excited to share "god egg" lore with y'all. UwU

-----

Batman made no comment as Clark sat down next to him, angled ever so slightly so he could read his screen. Diana, likewise, was leaned over so she could read the group chat Clark had started to keep everyone in the loop. Batman was already archiving the transcript of their conversation.

Young Miss Fenton’s frustration and apparent determination to do things herself were a little worrying. Amity Park was currently an information black hole to them, they had no idea what she thought she could do. Perhaps it was youthful naïveté, perhaps the girl actually had something up her sleeve. Either way they could only hope the JLD came to a solution before she became an additional issue.

Danny tilted, slumping gently against Clark’s side. Clark looked guilty as he gently patted Danny’s head with the hand the boy wasn’t leaning against.

Batman could understand, this situation was incredibly stressful. They could only hope the boy would be understanding and forgive him for this deception after they found a way to pull out and banish the Ghost King without killing Danny in the process.

“Oh my god,” Dr. Fate hissed faintly, “it’s a god egg!”

Batman had no idea what a god egg was.

From the way Zatanna and Marvel tensed they did know. “You can’t be serious,” Marvel whispered harshly.

Batman glared at them and held a finger up to his mouth. Clark was doing likewise before he turned and reminded Danny to keep eating. Batman typed out a quick message.

Batman: Use the group chat. Batman: And define “god egg.” Constantine: The hell you mean god egg? What?@

Batman held up a hand as everyone save Clark had held up their communicators. He cleared his throat and added a glower to get their attention, then pointed at Fate. He had brought up the term, it was up to him to explain. Fate typed a message as a different kind of tension filled the room.

Dr. Fate: It’s a slight misnomer as it’s not just gods, but rather any being with god-like powers. Dr. Fate: But when a mortal is about to Ascend or a godling is about to mature into their powers, sometimes their elders will seal off an area to isolate the would-be god. Dr. Fate: This can be to protect a child from threats while teaching them to use their new powers, or it can be to give the would-be god trials and keep them from “cheating” with outside help. Dr. Fate: Often it’s both, so the child or mortal don’t get given trials they can’t possibly overcome on their own. Dr. Fate: Amity Park is a god egg, and this boy is the chick. Dr. Fate: THAT is the block preventing us from being aware of Amity Park until now, and continues to block all attempts to look into it.

Zatanna frowned down at her communicator before she furiously tapped out her own message.

Zatanna: Shouldn’t the chick be Phantom? Constantine: Bloody hell you can’t be serious! Zatanna: He’s the one who’s photos won’t show up on the internet no matter what. Constantine: If this kid is the chick of a god egg we need to get him back down there yesterday. Cpt. Marvel: How were we able to find any information on Danny if he’s the chick? Dr. Fate: I don’t know, I just know what I could scry. Constantine: It don’t matter! Zatanna: It seems odd for Danny to be the chick when we could find so much information on him but not Phantom. Raven: Are we sure it’s Danny and not the Ghost King who’s the chick? Dr. Fate: There is a high chance it’s the Ghost King, yes. Constantine: We need to get this chick back to it’s egg before a bunch of angry gods come looking for their godling! Cpt. Marvel: Are we sure we want the Ghost King to Ascend? Isn’t he already a tyrant?

Batman bit back a groan as the chat sped up. While he liked being kept in the loop, this was getting to be a bit too much like his own family’s group chat. He got Diana’s attention and nodded towards the door. She nodded back and stood up, herding the magicians out of the kitchenette.

Batman got up and started the eclectic kettle, then went looking through the cabinet, finding the instant hot cocoa mix. Once the kettle finished heating up the water inside, Batman made a cup of hot cocoa, which he handed off to Clark, who gave it to Danny, before sitting back down.

It was just the waiting game now, it was up to the magic experts to decide what to do with this new information. For his part, Batman set about updating the mission file as well as the personal files of all beings involved. This included starting a new one on Phantom, since Zatanna had brought up a good point.

He was beginning to suspect far, far more had been going on than they had assumed, even more so than just a whole town in distress no one had known about. After all, they had images of Pariah Dark, and the entity they’d seen last night didn’t match that description.

They also had no description of Phantom, though what few bits of information they’d found on him described the ghost as appearing to be a teenaged boy. Oracle had found one particularly poetic fan of the ghost boy who described him as having “hair made of starlight” and “piercing peridot eyes” that could describe the entity they’d seen last night. Batman got Clark’s attention as he went back to the currently silent group chat.

Batman: Are we sure Pariah Dark is still the Ghost King?

Clark’s eyes grew huge as he read the message. He whipped out his own communicator and tapped out a message he didn’t send, but held up the screen for Batman to read. “It sounds like at least one of them choked out there.”

Batman nodded, it was the base assumption this whole fiasco was hinging on. But if Pariah Dark had managed to escape from and be sealed back into the Sarcophagus of Eternal Slumber without a single magic user being the wiser, was it not also possible he lost his crown in the process? And if the new king, likely Phantom, hadn’t been officially crowned yet even if the title had passed on, again how would anyone know? And if he is in fact the chick of this god egg, could not that simply have been one of his trials?

Wonder Woman: There is a strong possibility that Pariah Dark lost his crown to Phantom, who is the actual chick of this god egg. Wonder Woman: That does not change that he is currently asleep in Danny and can’t be removed without killing him. Batman: Since Phantom wasn’t in the Sarcophagus of Eternal Slumber, are we sure he was asleep? Constantine: It doesn’t matter! Constantine: We need to return the chick to it’s egg. Constantine: I’m sorry for this danny kid mate Constantine: I really am Constantine: But we can’t risk a bunch of gods being pissy about a missing chick. Cpt. Marvel: If I remember the brief earlier, isn’t Phantom a good guy? Cpt. Marvel: I doubt he’d want to hurt Danny if he can help it. Batman: We don’t have enough information to draw any conclusions on Phantom.

Clark held up his communicator with another message tapped out but not sent. “They’re doing a vote and a debate right now, half are for just sending Danny home and half want to find a way to get the king out of Danny.”

Batman sighed then, the dangers of having an even number of people in a mission. Sadly neither him nor Clark were knowledgeable enough to be taken seriously as the tie breaker.

[fathomlessgaze]

bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.  

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient. 

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily. 

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor. 

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago. 

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,” he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.” 

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw. 

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child. 

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face. 

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.” 

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth. 

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl. 

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?” 

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way. 

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer. 

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?” 

“would you like to do paperwork with me?” 

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!” 

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?” 

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.” 

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age. 

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know. 

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.” 

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.” 

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his. 

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.  

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness. 

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!” 

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?” 

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father. 

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek. 

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips. 

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?” 

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim. 

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace. 

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?” 

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers. 

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?” 

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles. 

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?” 

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first. 

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!” 

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband. 

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.” 

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes. 

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut (mention of tits:3)

I recommend reading part 1 firstly<3

Loser!Metalhead!König who is completely and utterly smitten by you. You, a pretty little thing, big doe eyes looking up at him adoringly, glossed lips kissing him so softly - you make his very bones melt. König is known for his sharp tongue and stoic demeanour, but with his girl he turns into a little teddy bear, all soft and putty and pliant in your hands.

Needless to say that this is Loser!Metalhead!König’s first ever relationship (and he hopes last one - ain’t no way he’s letting you go), so he’s a bit clueless. Not a bit. Okay he’s completely oblivious. I mean, König for sure knows some very basic concepts of relationships, some of them he feels intuitively, some he saw displayed in movies, but in general? You have to give him crystal clear instructions and explanations because this dude doesn’t get damn hints. Yes, it is okay that he holds your hand in public, that’s what you’ve been waiting for months actually. No he can’t punch a guy for smiling at you after you met eyes for a second.

Loser!Metalhead!König who is a member and co-founder of a small heavy metal band with two of his other loser friends, where he is a drummer. They 100% put way too much meaning into band’s name, lyrics and overall aesthetic meanwhile all of their music is about gore and being a hater. It still slaps tho.

They start low - as all music bands do - performing in local rock clubs, soon finding their small, yet loyal audience which grows bigger with time and new records. And even though you’re not actually participating in process of making music - you sure are a member. Those losers surely don’t know how to give interviews - here comes in old little you, answering questions and explaining meaning and inspirations behind songs, process of their creation. Obviously you are the one leading their socials too - before you stepped in their insta page looked more like a mock account filled with ugly ass photos and near to no information about band nor members, account’s description saying “Austria - we make music”

You’re also the one doing their stage makeup, drawing creepy patterns in black and white face paints, making them look actually cool. These losers can’t even do their own significant makeup by themselves - just smearing black paint all over their faces and proudly calling it a stage look smh

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely practices his singing while showering. He claims it’s good for keeping his voice cords active, “not letting them get rusty”, but just imagine this - you’re getting ready for bed, doing skincare, making your shared bed and fluffing up the pillows, scrolling in your phone - all while devil’s screeching and howling comes from the bathroom, all because that hulk of a man practices screaming techniques.

The more their band gets popular - the more fans start to rave about dynamic of your relationship. Big, burly, 6’10 brute who has to tilt his head down and draw his shoulders together in order to get through a doorframe dating a bubbly princess of a girl like you. Two polar opposites who work out so good together, Mick Thompson and Stacy Riley vibes frfr (god when will it be me)

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely mansplains all his favourite bands’ lore to you, giving information about every member, how they became popular, what are their most known songs are (and what they got cancelled for but we don’t talk about it okay?)

Loser!Metalhead!König who is still a fucking loser tho. He blushes and stutters every time he sees your tits, his palms getting sweaty, lips ajar as his widened eyes are glued to your exposed chest, Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck. Has he seen them dozens of times before? Yes. Will he ever not be impressed by your tits upon seeing them? Hell no.

A/n: not me dropping this off after a year of not writing and then disappearing again:3

[1-imaginary-girl]

Wolf Bite

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: During a fight between your friends and Klaus and his hybrids, you get bit. A certain someone appears later to help heal your wounds and complicate your feelings. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Violence, fluff

Word Count: 4850

Part 2

A/N: I have been obsessing over Klaus lately and thought I would share this passion with you guys. I haven’t seen TVD or TO in a while so I apologize if I get anything wrong about the lore. It doesn’t follow any canon plot, just inspired by Klaus healing Caroline’s bite.

You’re leaning against a wall in the Salvatore brothers’ house as the rest of your friends talk about their newest plan to threaten Klaus and his family. The idea seems foolish to you, but you know better than to voice your opinion. Ever since the Mikaelson clan moved to town, being a vampire has gotten a lot more complicated. You’re suddenly not so immortal when there’s a whole group of people out to get you and your friends.

You’ve also started to notice a shift in the group as Elena now has feelings for both Salvatores. You’re well aware that your presence has slowly started to go unnoticed and yet here you are again. You watch as the group argues about how to lure Klaus and co. to the woods where you’ll meet him.

“What if we send someone to his house to deliver the message?” Elena suggests. But Stefan shakes his head.

“No, it’s too risky,” he says.

“Not if we send someone with a white oak stake for protection,” Caroline says.

“That would ruin the plan,” Bonnie says. There’s a silence as the group thinks of a new idea. Until Damon speaks.

“What if we get Y/N to call him?” Damon says, looking at you for the first time today. Your eyes widen as the rest of the group now looks at you. As if they weren’t just ignoring you.

“What? N-no way,” you say, not prepared to be put on the spot.

“Come on, he’s clearly shown an interest in you. Now’s the time to use that,” he argues. It’s true. Ever since you first met, Klaus seems to have taken a liking to you. But you think the group’s making it a bigger deal than it is. You think he just does it as a way to annoy the group. Though why he chose you instead of someone like Caroline or Bonnie, you’ll never know. 

“I don’t want to do that,” you say, not wanting to explain exactly why. You’re not even quite sure yourself. “Besides, it probably won’t work. I mean, I don’t even have his phone number.”

“Oh right,” Damon says, furrowing his eyebrows as you throw a retch in his plan.

“You could deliver the message in person,” Caroline suggests. Your jaw almost drops.

“Wait, so it’s too risky if someone else goes to the house, but not me?”

“Come on, he won’t hurt you,” Damon says. You’re beginning to think being a wallflower was the better option.

“We all have to help, Y/N,” Elena says. You choke on your words as you look around, seeing no one objecting to this plan.

“Wait, you guys my message spell!” Bonnie exclaims. Everyone turns to her and you are relieved to be out of the spotlight as you lean back against the wall. “I need paper, something to write with, and something of Klaus’s.”

Though you are currently mad at all of them, you decide you’re mad at Bonnie the least so you open your bag. You’re able to scrounge up the materials, even something of Klaus’s (you didn’t ask). With the necessary ingredients, Bonnie performs her spell and the written note lights on fire before quickly disintegrating. She opens her eyes.

“That should do it,” she says.

“We should go,” Elena says and everyone agrees.

†††

The group is waiting in the woods for Klaus to appear, as is expressed in the letter. Another argument broke out on the way here as to who will get the white oak stake as you only brought one to threaten Klaus with. The group didn’t want to risk any of the other stakes. In the end, Damon won the argument as he reminded Stefan his responsibility was to look out for Elena, which she did not like. The rest of you are armed with regular stakes just in case anything happens.

“When is he going to get here?” Caroline says, though no one answers as no one knows. “I mean, how can he even find us? We’re in the middle of the woods!”

“He can probably track us by seeking out Elena’s blood,” Damon says which angers Elena. Sometimes you feel bad for her being the only human amongst the group (other than Matt), and other times you envy her for it.

When the group is about ready to give up, you hear something coming. The other vampires can hear it too and you ready yourselves. Soon enough, Klaus stands before you with a smile on his face. “Well, well, isn’t this a nice surprise? I hadn’t realized we were pen pals,” the Original says. His eyes rake over the group and he perks up when he spots you. “Hello love.”

The others glance at you and, panicked to be on the spot again, you say, “Uh, hi,” with a small and awkward wave.

This causes Klaus’ smile to grow wider and seemingly more genuine, and you try to suppress the urge to blush. Although you don’t think your friends were pleased by that interaction.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Stefan says, bringing Klaus’ attention back to the group.

“Ah yes, the cryptic message,” Klaus says. “So, what is it that I must see? Truly, I’m dying to know.” You see Damon smirk.

“I wouldn’t act so cocky,” he says.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Klaus says with an entertained look on his face. His face changes, however, when Damon reveals the white oak stake. His cocky attitude shifts quickly to fear and anger. “Where did you get that?” he growls.

“Well it turns out when your sister burned down that bridge, she didn’t realize that other things were made from your precious oak tree,” Damon taunts. He’s exaggerating, of course, as there was only one other thing made from the tree. But Klaus still looks fearful.

“So what? You really think you can kill me with one stake?”

“We don’t intend to kill you. At least not now anyway,” Caroline says.

“We called you here as a threat. To tell you to leave Mystic Falls or else,” Stefan says with a calm smile on his face.

“Oh, and this isn’t the only stake. We wouldn’t risk bringing all of them with us just for you to break them,” Elena says.

“You’re bluffing,” Klaus sneers.

“Care to find out?” Damon asks. You can practically feel the steam of anger rolling off Klaus.

“How dare you threaten me,” Klaus says, his blue-green eyes turning a deadly shade of yellow.

“What are you going to do about it?” Damon says with a taunting smirk. Klaus’ face shifts and he smirks back.

“Why I’m so glad you asked,” he says. He then lets out a whistle and some of his hybrids emerge from the woods. You widen your gaze as you hold out your weapon, trying to assess the situation. The hybrids move in closer, and you can see the others preparing themselves. “Now, let’s try this again. Hand over the stake, and no one gets hurt.”

You thought the answer would be obvious. Sure, Klaus might be bluffing but you can’t kill that many hybrids. And what’s one lost stake anyway? However, you seemed to be the only one thinking that.

“No thanks,” Damon says. You look at him incredulously.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Klaus says. As soon as Klaus advances, his hybrids pounce and the group is thrown into an attack. Your weapons will only slow the hybrids down, but your best hope is to get the upper hand and snap their necks to incapacitate them.

Damon and Klaus immediately face off. The rest of you prepare to face the small army of hybrids while Stefan protects Elena. One of the hybrids locks onto you and hisses before attacking you. You instantly try to hold the hybrid off and stab her, but you can feel her overpowering you in strength.

Still, you rely on your moves in combat to avoid any major injuries or worse, her bite. You manage to get the upper hand and stab her through the stomach, and while she’s slowed down, you move to behind her back and snap her neck, knocking her out for a good while.

You’re trying to catch your breath when you sense another hybrid coming at you too late. He pounces on you and you slam into the ground with him on top of you. You’re caught off guard and without your stake. When you try to move to fight back, the hybrid digs his teeth into your shoulder. A short scream rips through you, powered both by panic and pain.

Meanwhile, Klaus is fighting Damon when he hears the scream. He looks your way as he feared it was you, and the scene causes his eyes to widen. With a newfound urgency, Klaus faces Damon and quickly finds a way to snap his neck.

As you’re panicking from the bite, you feel the hybrid being pulled off of you and you see Klaus with a furious expression. The hybrid is very confused by his sire’s anger. You think you hear Klaus growl, “Not her,” before snapping their neck.

You’re shocked at what just happened all at once and remain on the ground, sitting up with wide eyes looking at Klaus. He looks away from the hybrid to meet your gaze and his eyes instantly soften. He looks concerned, though you’re not sure why. He makes a move to walk toward you but before you can say anything, Caroline rushes over to you.

She quickly puts herself between Klaus and you. “Stay away from her,” she hisses at him. Klaus’ expression shifts back to anger, and before you can explain to Caroline what’s going on, Klaus’s gaze flick from her to you and then he sprints away. Not just away from you, but he leaves the forest. The hybrids that haven’t been incapacitated follow.

You look after him, longing to talk to him and figure out why he saved you, when Caroline’s face comes into view. “Are you okay?” she asks while helping to pull you off the ground. You nod and you guess that’s enough for her because she walks towards the rest of the group.

You’re a bit stunned as Klaus seemed to show more compassion than your friend, but you merely shake off the exchange. From the woods, the group heads back to the Salvatore’s place. You trail behind them, your mind racing as you’re overly aware of the fact that a werewolf bit you. Not just a werewolf, but a hybrid. You haven’t told your friends about it because you don’t want to be a bother to them as that’s all you feel like you are these days.

On the way back, your mind wanders to the one person that seems to be on everyone’s minds these days. Klaus. You don’t know why he saved you, even from his own hybrid, but you want to thank him. You know you should hate him like the others do but for some reason every time that man looks at you, your stomach erupts into butterflies.

You feel awful for how you feel, you know all the harm he’s caused to your friends and not to mention the world, but you can’t help it. It doesn’t help that he pretends to be soft on you either. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, whatever they are, for fear of persecution but you can’t stop thinking about him.

You arrive at the Salvatore’s and the group huddles in the living room for a quick debriefing of what just went down. All the while images of Klaus and your bite flash through your mind. You look at your shoulder and you can’t see the full damage as it’s covered by your shirt but you know it’s not good.

“How are you holding up, Damon?” Caroline asks teasingly. He glares at her and rolls his neck.

“Doing just great thanks,” he says.

“What the hell even happened?” Elena asks. “I mean, why did they just leave?”

“All I know is, one minute I’m holding my own against Klaus--” Damon says and to this you hold back rolling your eyes. Klaus must’ve been going easy on him, toying with him. “--and then he gets this raged look on his face and boom, lights out.”

“He went to Y/N,” Caroline says causing all of their eyes to stare at you again. You bite back your annoyance at her for bringing that on you.

“What happened?” Stefan asks while the rest of the group waits. The image of Klaus looking at you causes your face to heat up and you struggle to come up with a lie. You don’t want to tell them the truth when you yourself haven’t even gotten to the bottom of it.

“I-I don’t know,” you say. They still stare at you. “Maybe he was mad at me for harming his hybrids.”

“There were two knocked-out hybrids beside her,” Caroline adds. The group looks at you with a mix of shock and amazement.

“You knocked out two of them?” Damon asks with surprise and slight amusement. You don’t want to outwardly lie so you just kind of nod.

“And then he just left,” you say.

“It still doesn’t make sense. I mean, why target you specifically?” Bonnie asks.

“Maybe he’s miffed his lover betrayed him,” Damon says and your face turns beat red.

“W-What?! I am not his—” you burst out in surprise until someone cuts you off. No one even looks your way.

“Or maybe he’s planning something,” Elena suggests. The rest of them start diving into conspiracies but your mind is elsewhere. You suddenly feel drawn to look at your bite. The more you look at it, the more it’s like you can feel the venom pumping through your veins. Your heartbeat is suddenly too loud and you feel like you can’t breathe.

You don’t know if it has something to do with the venom or just your overall panic, but all of a sudden, the world goes black.

†††

Your eyes slowly open and your vision is blurry at first. Figures stand over you and after blinking a few times, you recognize your friends.

“She’s awake,” Elena says, as if everyone isn’t seeing it for themselves. You realize you’re lying on the Salvatore’s couch. You wonder how long you blacked out for.

“What the hell Y/N?!” Caroline instantly yells at you. You flinch at her volume but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you tell us you got bit?”

At the reminder, you look back at the bite only to see that its gotten worse. You wince at the sight of it and face the group. You guess they discovered it when you passed out.

“I don’t know, I-I thought I could handle it,” you say, not wanting to admit the real reason. Most of them roll their eyes at you.

“Of course you couldn’t handle it!” Damon says. “You should have told us.”

I didn’t know you cared. You bite your tongue to keep the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, losing interest in the conversation as you are now painfully aware of the venom from the bite.

“What are we going to do?” Bonnie asks. They begin to cut you out of the conversation even though they’re talking about you and you decide you can’t deal with this right now. You stand up from the couch, feeling a bit of a head rush before steadying yourself. This seems to draw their attention.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Stefan asks, as they all look at you with bewildered expressions.

“I’m going home,” you say and start to walk away. Unfortunately, they follow.

“You can’t just go home!” Caroline exclaims, reacting as if you just said you were going to the moon.

“Watch me,” you say, your frustration getting the better of you. You try to make your way towards the door but a few steps in you stumble and Stefan speeds over to steady you.

“Okay, we’ll take you home, alright?” he says and in that moment, you’re grateful for him. He turns to the rest of the group. “We can regroup at her place and brainstorm ideas there while keeping an eye on her.” The rest of the group seems to agree with the idea. In separate cars, the group drives over to your house.

Soon you’re pulling into your driveway. They’ve all been invited in before so entering isn’t a problem. With Stefan’s help, you climb the stairs and soon find yourself in your cozy bed. You wish you could just sleep away this problem but a sudden sharp pain from the wound reminds you that isn’t possible.

“So what now?” Elena asks as the group piles into your bedroom. It feels weird and you’re slightly uncomfortable with it but you keep quiet and just get under your inviting covers.

“Maybe we can ask Klaus for help?” Bonnie suggests. At this, Damon instantly scoffs.

“Yeah that sounds like him,” Damon says.

“Maybe he’ll do it for Y/N,” Caroline says. “He does have a soft spot for her.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough for him,” Stefan interjects. “We all know what he’s after.”

“No,” Damon says. “We finally have a real weapon against those Original assholes and I’m not just going to throw it all away for—”

“Damon,” Elena hisses and nudges him in the chest before nodding over to you. Once more, all eyes are on you and you don’t know what to do. Damon looks away, maybe feeling guilty for basically saying you’re not worth it.

“Why don’t we continue this conversation downstairs?” Caroline suggests. You once again wonder why they’re talking about this situation without you but you’re too tired and hurt to care.

“We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Bonnie says and then the group filters out closing the door behind them.

Throughout the day a few of them check in on you every once and a while, barely giving you updates on if they’re going to find a cure. As your pain grows and the sky darkens, you start to think that maybe this is it. Maybe this is how you die. You never imagined it happening like this and your chest caves in at the thought of a final death but it’s looking more and more likely.

You’re not sure what time it is, but later in the night you hear a faint knock which sounds like it’s coming from your front door. You ignore it, not having the strength to answer it. You figure one of your friends will answer it. If they’re even home.

The knock sounds again, louder and more persistent, and you start to suspect that your friends have left. You take a deep breath as fear coils around your throat, constricting your breath. Your friends aren’t here and you’re going to die all alone before you even got to live. The knocking stops and you settle back into the silence.

Then a sound comes from your window. It sounds like…knocking? From your bed, you can’t see the outside since it’s too dark out. You wish your friends were here. Slowly, you climb out of bed and try to rally your strength in case you have to fight something or someone. As you walk over your confusion only grows.

There, perched on a branch from the tree outside your window, is Klaus Mikaelson. He gives you a wave and you hesitantly wave back. You approach the window cautiously before opening it.

“Um, can I help you?” you ask, trying to understand what you’re seeing. Hallucinations are a side effect of wolf venom, right?

“Well hello to you too, love,” he says with a cheeky smile on his face. His eyes roam over your body and his smile falters. You suddenly become aware that this is the closest you’ve ever been to the Original. You try not to let your cheeks flush.

“What are you doing here?” His smile drops entirely, noticing your serious demeanour.

“I’m here to help. Now if you could just let me in—”

“Help with what?” His face becomes grim as his eyes trail over to your shoulder. It’s now out in the open as you’ve changed into pajamas. You then remember that he must’ve seen the bite when it happened.

“Your wound, love.”

“Why…why would you want to help me with that?” you ask. Then a thought occurs. “Wait, have my friends spoken to you?”

His eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t heard from them,” he says and though you can’t say you didn’t expect it, your heart drops at hearing it. “Wait, do they know about this?”

“Um yeah.”

He looks angry as he asks, “And where are they now?”

You look at the floor and try to keep your embarrassment inside. “I don’t know, I thought they would’ve contacted you.”

“Apparently not.” His face is still twisted in anger although you’re not quite sure why. Then he looks at you and seems to remember why he’s here. “So, can you let me in?”

The thought of having Klaus Mikaelson in your room makes your heart beat faster. And though you want to give in, to continue living your immortal life, you hesitate. “Why should I trust you?”

“What?”

“How do I know if I let you in now, it won’t come back to bite me in the ass?” you ask, your arms crossed.

Klaus doesn’t seem to understand your concern. “Love, you realize that’s a hybrid bite. I don’t think you have the time for this.”

“So you admit that you would use it later?”

His face scrunches up. “That’s not—no I wouldn’t do that—just please let me in,” he says, giving you a sincere look that threatens to break down your walls. Just as you’re about to question him more, a wave of pain washes over your body. You let out a groan as you slightly stumble back. “Y/N?” The pain grows more intense and you let out a whimper before you collapse onto your knees. “Y/N!” It’s as if your body is at war with itself and you can feel every impact of it.

“You have to let me in, just say the words and I can help you. Please!” You hear Klaus say from the window. But it’s hard to find words when the pain is so intense. You want it to stop. “Y/N!” You hear him bang his fist against the walls of your house.

You slowly lift your head up to see his worried face, desperately waiting for you to let him in. You no longer care if this will come back to haunt you. You take a few deep breaths before you say, “Come in.”

As soon as the words take effect, Klaus rushes into the house and scoops you into his arms. You clutch at his chest, not thinking of anything but the pain. He carries you over to the bed and gently places you down before quickly running over to the window to close it. The pain seems to be dwindling down but you know it’ll be back. Your whole body is so weak, you used the last of your strength to walk over and talk to Klaus.

Speaking of, he’s quickly back at your bedside, eyes furiously scanning you for signs of physical distress. Then his eyes lock on yours and you feel your breath hitch. “You have to drink my blood,” he says quietly to you.

You know that that’s the cure and that it will save you, but you’re still hesitant. This is Klaus you’re talking about. The big bad hybrid who’s been attacking your friends and causing chaos for weeks now. And yet for some reason, a part of you wants to trust him. A part of you wants to give in to the idea that he could be good. But how can you trust him when you can’t even trust your own instincts?

He must sense your hesitation, because he leans down to look into your eyes. When you look at him, you’re stuck by how truly beautiful he is. His eyes are a beautiful blue, but more than that, they hold a look of sincerity in them. “I know you don’t trust me, I wouldn’t either,” he says. “But this is what’s going to save you. So please, take a chance. What have you got to lose?”

He does have a point.

“I don’t want to die,” you admit in a small voice. Your breath stutters as you let the fear bubbling inside of you rise to the surface. Klaus’s look is sympathetic.

“I don’t want that either,” he whispers. Your eyes meet and you feel caught in them. “Let me help you.”

Maybe it’s because this is a different, more sincere side of Klaus that you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s because your friends are gone and you’re feeling vulnerable. Maybe it’s because your instincts seem to have aligned. Either way, you nod your head.

He offers you a small smile. He then sits on the bed and gently shifts you so that you’re leaning against his chest. You’re too weak to move yourself. Klaus rolls up his sleeve and bites down on his wrist before bringing it close to your lips. You’re tempted but look at him to make sure it’s okay first. He nods and you sink your teeth into his wrist.

At first, you feel weird about the situation. But then you lean into it and begin to enjoy it. Klaus whispers encouragingly in your ear as his blood enters your body. You can feel your strength begin to return and the fog in your brain clear. You almost don’t want to stop, and the way Klaus is petting your hair doesn’t help. But eventually, you know you’ve had enough, so you pull away.

“Wasn’t so bad, eh?” Klaus says and you look up to see him smiling down at you. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so.”

“Then I guess my work here is done.” He moves you so you’re lying back on your bed, but when he moves to leave, you grab his arm. He looks back, confused.

“Why did you do that?” When his confusion doesn’t clear, you clarify. “Why did you help me?”

He looks down at the floor and his lip twitches into a smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but I quite fancy you. Wouldn’t want you dying on me before I’ve had a chance to win you over.”

His words shock you enough to let go of his arm. The strangest part is that he looks sincere about it. “But…you actually like me? Like, that wasn’t all an act?” you ask. Both of you seem to be confused by the other.

“Why would I do that?” You start to feel embarrassed.

“To—to get on the group’s nerves? To throw us off?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might just like you?” To be honest, the thought hadn’t occurred to you. Trickery made more sense.

“Yes,” you say and then wish you didn’t. “I—I mean, why me? Why not Caroline or Bonnie?”

“Besides the fact that you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on?” he asks and you’re suddenly glad it’s dark because your cheeks are on fire right now. “Because you’re different.” That doesn’t make you feel so great. He must have picked up on that because he catches your eye and says, “Because you’re better.” The idea makes you flustered, that anyone would think you’re better than them, let alone a powerful hybrid like Klaus.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Hmm.” He seems to think on what to say before smirking. “Then I guess I’ll have to do a better job at showing you.” When he winks at you, you think your face might be on fire from how hot it is. Once again, he turns to leave.

“Thank you,” you call out which makes him stop in his tracks. He turns around to face you and seems confused by your words. But you mean them. He didn’t have to save you, you gave him nothing in return, and yet he did.

He smiles and you think it’s much better than the fake ones he gives to the group. “Of course love,” he says. “Couldn’t have my favourite vampire dying on me.” You give him a smile back, genuinely happy to hear someone say that to you.

Then your eyelids begin to feel heavy and you have to blink rapidly to stay awake. Klaus sees this and says, “Goodnight, my love,” before opening your bedroom window.

“Goodnight,” you say back as you watch the window close. You lay back down on your bed, thankful to no longer be dying. You guess you have your new saviour to thank for that. As you close your eyes, you can’t help but see Klaus in a different light. Not as a villain, but as a complicated man. You don’t think your friends are going to like your change of heart, so for now you’ll keep it to yourself. You’ll be content in knowing that maybe the big bad hybrid isn’t so bad after all.

[mythalism]

The lore drop that bothers me the most with how it's glossed over is that ancient elves were actually spirits and how, without delving more into what spirits actually are, it ends up diminishing them as a people & undercutting their complexity. Even Solas says they reflect the world, a pure embodiment of an emotion, but then what does that say of their society, of their goals and aspirations, hell, even of their war crimes? I'm not trying to argue they're not people, it's just sad that the best exploration of it remains in Awakening with Justice and the only one who argues for their personhood is this game's chosen antagonist. That this is the direction they chose for the people they heavily coded as indigenous makes it all the more egregious that they're relegated to set-dressing (Crossroads, Hall of Valor) or a couple of examples to show some of them are Good (I miss how in Inq, Compassion is said to be a rare spirit and easy to corrupt, Cole is terrified by what he almost became and could become, and in VG u find 2 who are mostly fine, if a bit rattled. Harding even compares them to a mabari puppy??but I digress). Ofc they couldn't humanize the spirits more bc then we'd have to contend with how we're supposed to want them to stay fenced in for all eternity for the safety of the status quo. All the while, their earthly descendants have been invisibilised or killed off-screen, with the exception of a small group u can save and that's used as an opportunity to showcase Solas's growth and how bad the Venatori are. Ancient elves don't exist, city elves are functionally the same as any other npc, and the Dalish have been replaced by the Veil Jumpers, who are totally cool with anyone plundering - I mean, exploring their ruins and seem mostly concerned with isolating dangerous artifacts and shoving them in a museum, hmm... Honestly, I gave up when Irelin said it was easy to forget about the halla. Thank fuck Merrill isn't in this cus she'd be Cyrian. Others have pointed out how nonsensical it is they're all fine with their gods being fake, but also real and evil (yet still invoke the Creators & Mythal and wear vallaslin), so I'll move on to the real horror for me: that none of them knew. There's a banter between Bellara & Emmrich that turned my stomach where he says that elves originally being spirits was a working theory some of them had (oh, to be a fly on the wall during THAT racist debate!), once again placing humans as the natural custodians of elven history and it's all so cruel that it's world-breaking for me. It's awful that elves were abandoned not only by their 'gods', but by what it turns out are their brethren. Am I supposed to believe that for millennia they prayed to their gods, but they only ever spoke to Tevinter magisters? That spirits never shared anything about their common past with the elves? Why did Mythal keep them in the dark? The Dalish have taken great pains to ensure every scrap of history is preserved and shared, despite the genocides, but I guess oral history doesn't count (and they never thought to use spirits? ig they weren't interesting enough to be reflected by spirits either, otherwise they could've found out even more from that) and most of their books and artifacts got stolen/destroyed by humans, too bad the ancient elves never felt any kinship to them, they could've used the lore boost.

1/2

[joelmillers-wife]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter two

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: you officially meet your new neighbor–just not the one you were expecting. you also finally get your patrol assignments. wc: 6.2k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: very minor violence (reader goes on patrol), cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn, enemies to friends to lovers type-beat, ellie introduction ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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II. THE VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES

Passed Alger Brook Road, I'm over the bridge A minute from home but I feel so far from it The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again The things that I lost here, the people I knew They got me surrounded for a mile or two The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel I'm back between villages and everything's still

Sleep never found you that first night. 

Your bed was too soft—sheets too warm. The clock inside your bedroom ticking too loudly and consuming your already racing thoughts. Instead, you chose to spend that night looking at the details of your new home, attempting to memorize where everything was and recall memories of how to use all the different appliances.

The second morning you were there, Tommy had showed up to help you decide where you wanted to work for the next few weeks. You had settled on helping with the horses in the stable, sharing that you missed seeing the animals and found joy out of seeing them in an environment they could thrive more in. While not a lie, you chose the job as a means to see what patrol is like. Being set up more towards the front gates of the town, you could see how things operate—could see the kind of people who went in and out and what weapons they carried. The small bits of information you got were enough to give you a small peace of mind being here.

It’s been two weeks of working here when you hear the sounds of someone barging into the stables with a shout one afternoon.

“Shimmer!”

You quickly look to the entryway to see a young girl running towards one of the smaller horses they had. She looked young—couldn’t be older than fifteen—with long dark auburn hair tied into a low ponytail with a woolen hat pulled over her head. She wore typical clothing for living in Wyoming in the winter… minus the converse she had on that clearly had seen better days. You notice a scar on her right eyebrow that cuts through the hair there. 

She was petting the horse and speaking to her in a soft manner.

You clear your throat before speaking up to ask, “Is she yours?”

The young girl turns to you surprised, almost as if she was realizing she wasn’t alone. “Yeah! Well… not really,” she spoke shyly. “I’m technically not old enough yet to be allowed outside on my own to ride the horses. But, Shimmer is also young, and Maria says that she can grow up to be mine if I’m responsible in taking care of her.”

You give her a small smile, her enthusiasm making you feel at ease for a moment. “Well, she’s a very good girl. I’m sure you take great care of her with how she reacts with you,” you point out. The girl’s smile grows at your words, looking back to the horse—Shimmer.

Suddenly, her head snaps back to you with a look of realization. “Hey! You’re our new neighbor, right? I’m Ellie!”

You look at her a bit confused but respond, “Uh, yeah I settled in a few weeks ago. Is your house on the same block as mine?”

Her eyes light up a bit more. “It’s more like, directly in front of you!”

Your confusion deepens briefly before what she says dawns on you, your mouth forming a small “o” as you remember the shadowed figure in the window that first night in the house right across from yours. Joel’s house.

“Oh, so, you’re Joel’s kid then?”

Her face twists in a sort of comical disgust before saying, “Oh, fuck no! I’m not related to that old man. Can you imagine? I would not be as funny and charming as I am if I was raised around that one my whole life.”

Confusion enters your face again, along with shock at the crass language coming from someone so young. “Oh… I’m sorry. I—I just assumed—”

She cuts you off lightheartedly, saying, “Nah don’t worry about it. Common mistake people tend to make here.”

You nod in acknowledgement, looking back to your task before facing her again and speaking up. “So… if he’s not your dad, then how do you know each other?”

Her smile slightly falters. Fuck. Did you say something wrong? You frantically try to retract your words by saying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” she says while smiling again. But, it feels forced this time. Almost as if it pains her to answer—or, like she doesn’t know how to answer. “We, uh, we just found each other, I guess. Went on a… journey of sorts and, well, he’s stuck with me now! Old man doesn’t realize how lucky he really is.”

You don’t press further and instead offer something to try and make her more at ease. “Well, he’s lucky to get paired up with a kid who’s apparently an up and coming comedian,” you joke, recalling her comments on her charm and humor.

That genuine smile and excitement you first saw from her comes back again, and you feel this warm sensation wash over you. “Do you wanna hear a joke?!” She excitedly asks. Except, you don’t think she was really asking considering she’s already reaching into her backpack and pulling out a book.

“What is that?” You ask.

“This is a national treasure, you see. No Pun Intended: Volume Too, by the one and only Will Livingston,” she says with a proud look on her face. 

Does she carry this around with her all the time?

She flips through the pages, eyes quickly scanning the lines before she focuses on something that must satisfy her. Dramatically clearing her throat, she speaks up. “Wanna hear a joke about pizza?” Before you can respond, she adds, “Never mind, it was too cheesy!”

Oh my god.

“What did the green grape say to the purple grape?” She continued.

You follow along with the cheesy puns. “I don’t know, what?”

“Breathe you idiot!” She exclaims. A giggle comes out of you, not really because the jokes are particularly funny, but more so because she sounds so excited sharing such ridiculous dad jokes, that you can’t help but share her joy. It’s the first time you’ve genuinely smiled and laughed in what feels like years.

She continues along with a few more. “What did the triangle say to the circle? You’re so pointless!” Giggling as she reads. “What did the cannibal get—”

Her face almost pales as she cuts herself off, and her smile immediately drops as she stops reading the next joke. It’s such a different reaction from the girl you’ve gotten to know in a short time, that it causes you to become concerned.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask, but she doesn’t look up at you or respond right away. Her hands start trembling slightly and her mouth slightly open as the next words die in her throat. “Ellie?” You push, your worry growing. You watch as she quite literally snaps out of it–shaking her head and shutting her eyes quickly, blinking away whatever thoughts she had.

“Yeah! Sorry, um, I just remembered I had to get some homework done before school tomorrow,” she rushes out while looking down at her feet. You don’t exactly believe her but don’t want to pry any further. 

Instead you tell her, “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you too long asking questions.” Noticing her still uneasy expression, you try to make her smile by saying, “I mean, it’s not everyday I get to hear about a national treasure.”

She looks back up at you with a growing smile and a giggle forming as she says, “Well, ya know, someone has to do the hard work around here.” You laugh genuinely again, glad to make her feel better from whatever thoughts had popped up into her head.

Why do you care so much?

Ellie says her goodbyes to Shimmer, packing the joke book back into her bag, and starts to head out before she stops and turns back to you one more time. “Oh my god!” She says. “I’m such an asshole, holy shit. I never asked your name?”

You smile, stating your name to her and watching her smile in return and repeat your name back to you. “Thank god I remembered to ask. Joel’s been fucking hounding me about it for weeks,” she says.

What?

You can’t get a word out before she continues on. “I mean, seriously. You think with his damn brother and sister-in-law being in charge that he’d just ask them everything. But noooo—the big bad Joel Miller doesn’t care about anyone or anything, so he must keep that mysterious aura about him,” she says mockingly, before her brows furrow together. “Except, he really doesn’t pester me this much…” She trails off. 

Shrugging her shoulders, she continues rambling off. “I mean I guess it makes sense considering you're one of our few neighbors. So he probably just has to know if you’re like a crazy person, which you’re totally not, don't worry. I can tell. But god, fucking weeks of ‘Ellie, who is that? Ellie, what do you know about that woman? Ellie, why am I not capable of being a normal person and asking her directly?’” She mocks with an impression of a southern, deep-toned voice that makes you let out a small laugh. 

“Anyways… It was nice to meet you, neighbor. See you around!” She says before running out of the stables.

You're left with your own thoughts—a million questions racing through you. Why does Joel ask her about you so much? And why can’t he just do it himself?

The following couple months throughout winter became a routine that you’ve gotten used to more and more. You wake up, eat breakfast, go to the stables, go to patrol training, eat dinner, come home, shower, sleep. During this time, you’ve gotten to know the community a bit more—and in return, they’ve gotten to know you. You don’t know if you would count some of these people as friends, but they certainly don’t feel like complete strangers anymore. 

Tommy was right. Everyone has their roles and they stick to it, helping each other and everyone else out in the meantime. It’s something you’ve become acclimated to, and even appreciate.

Surprisingly, and pleasantly, you’ve grown closest to Ellie. Despite her being a bit younger than you, her company is one you adore and almost rely on. She would regularly come into the stables after school to see Shimmer, only to end up staying for hours just helping you with your work and talking about anything and everything. She shared her love of comic books, records, board games, books, space, dinosaurs, and whatever movies Joel makes her watch with him. You’ve learned she’s turning sixteen this coming spring, and that they’ve lived in Jackson for almost a year. The little she shares about their time before coming here is that they traveled together when she was fourteen, came to Jackson two winters ago, before leaving briefly and came back last spring—staying here ever since.

With the spring approaching, Jackson weather has ever so slightly warmed up by March—a nice change from the extreme cold you experienced after arriving in the late months of fall. Because of the weather change, Ellie’s attire has shifted from thick coats to rolled up sleeves, showcasing what looks like an old bandage haphazardly wrapped around her right forearm. When you first noticed it and asked her, she had that pale face you had seen on her the first time she came to the stables. “Oh, that. I fucked up as a kid back in the QZ’s and got a chemical burn. Now I try to keep it covered up so as to not freak people out,” she shares. She was firm and direct in her statement, you taking it as a clear sign to not ask further about the covered-up skin.

Considering all this time spent with her, and all the information you’ve shared between each other, she doesn’t talk much about Joel. Nothing outside of the passing comments of, “I gotta go get home for dinner with Joel. Or, “Joel and I watched this movie last night.” To be fair, you don’t ask—but you supposed you expected to hear more about him. But, that’s mainly because everyone else does.

You hear non-stop in town about Joel Miller. How harsh and cold he was in the mess hall. How he barged into town meetings to complain. How Maria supposedly cannot stand him. Which you believe considering the interaction between Maria and Joel when you first were shown your new home, and how she glares at him and challenges all his grievances he holds about how things are run. Really, the only good things you heard of him were that he’d come with Tommy to help fix things around town—something you assume his brother and sister-in-law forced him into.

You don’t see much of him, considering your proximity to each other. The rare instances occur either in the early hours of the morning, or late at night when you both go to and from your daily tasks. He still hasn’t spoken a word to you—hasn’t even given you more than a passing glance if your paths cross around town. Unsurprisingly, he holds the same annoyed expression each time.

Man, you think, he really does just have a permanent scowl. 

You would’ve thought you’d see more of him considering your job in the stables and being at the gates almost all hours of the day. But, conveniently, Joel’s schedule tended to find him already beyond the walls while you were there. It wasn’t till this week that things had changed.

It was almost four months of working in the stables, and three months of patrol training—learning what is needed out there. Three months of showing your skills and what you can offer. 

You started to get antsy, the previous Friday practically begging Tommy to let you join patrol officially. He laughed as if he understood the feeling, and shared that the main captains were pleased with your skills and how you handled yourself the past few weeks when you transitioned to short, supervised patrol runs with them. He promised that after the weekend, your first official partnered patrol would be held Monday. 

That brings you to now, that following Monday morning. While you feel more comfortable living here, you still haven’t been able to get a proper night’s sleep. Considering your lack of sleep, you had no issue being dressed and ready for your 7 a.m. patrol time. In fact, you had shown up thirty minutes early and headed towards the board posted outside the stables—papers pinned along the space showcasing each person’s designated patrol time, station, and partner for the month. Before having the chance to scan through where your name lies on the list, you hear shouting coming from inside the stables on the opposite side of the wall where the board lies. The voice you hear shouting the loudest happens to be one you have not heard in weeks. 

Apparently you were not the only person who had shown up early for patrol this morning.

“The fuck were you thinkin’, Tommy?!”

Walking closer to the wall, you hear Tommy sigh out. “Joel, just, hear me out okay? I promise you—” But Tommy gets cut off almost instantly.

“You paired me up with her?” He yells, venom dripping into the last word.

Your face twists up in confusion at that. Who did Joel get paired with to make him so—

No…

No, no, no. No fucking way.

You hurriedly, yet quietly, close the few steps between you and the board with the patrol information. Your eyes desperately scan through the list of names on the board, murmured begging of disbelief leaving your lips. Each day of the week for the month lists a row of a pair of names next to every time slot and location shown. You eventually hit today’s date and find your name before reading the name paired with yours.

Joel Miller. 

Fuck.

You don’t get the chance to properly process the realization before your thoughts are interrupted by Joel continuing to yell at his brother.

“Why the hell would you put me on patrol with her of all people? I don’t need some goddamn bubbly kid with me out there for hours a day. What were you thinkin’? That I have the fuckin’ patience to babysit the newbie on patrol? You expect me to be able to depend on a fuckin’ kid to keep me safe?” His voice bellows.

Kid?

Your face scrunches up with slight fury for the first time since being in Jackson. Kid? What the fuck does he think you are? Some innocent little thing that’s never experienced terror before in her life? Does he think you just walked in here unscathed for the past over two decades, without encountering anything that lays outside these gates? No. You’re not some damn kid. You haven’t been a kid for a long while—and even then you didn’t get to live or act like a kid in those years.

Before you can think for too long and get angrier, you hear Tommy respond back to Joel. His voice in a tone and manner you have not heard from him yet, one that challenges Joel’s and, for the first time since you’ve known them, you believe that these two are brothers.

“You don’t get a damn say in this, Joel. We make the list of patrols for good reason every damn month. We pair people whose skill levels not only match each other, but also highlight everythin’ that needs to be done. The things you may lack, she succeeds in, and vice versa. That’s how things have always been done, and you know that,” Tommy hisses back.

You hear Joel begin to say something, but he never gets a chance to as Tommy speaks up once again, saying, “And the hell do you know ‘bout her, huh? What do you know ‘bout anyone in this town? You haven’t taken one moment ever since you stepped foot into Jackson to really fit in. To try—not even for Ellie’s sake. You’ve taken everything we’ve given you without any ounce of fuckin’ gratefulness. Ya know what it took me to convince Maria to let you stay in this damn town? What with her knowin’ everythin’ you’re capable of? Everythin’ you’ve done?”

The anger you hold slightly subsides as curiosity takes over you as you wonder, what is this unknown reason that Maria does not like Joel? What did he do?

Joel has stayed silent for the past few seconds. A part of you wants to walk in, show your presence, and see the look on his face, but Tommy still talking keeps you frozen in your place on the opposite side of the wall.

“What ‘bout Ellie, huh?” He asks Joel. “I know you’re aware of Ellie’s time spent with her. Not only does the town trust and like her—Ellie trusts and likes her. You really think someone so incompetent and unable to take care of themself would be someone Ellie finally feels like she can be around without you breathin’ down her damn neck on her whereabouts?”

You notice Joel’s silence before he grunts and says something much quieter that you can’t quite catch. Assuming the conversation between the brothers has ended, you try to quietly walk further from the stables and back to the front of the path that leads to the patrol board—hovering near the small table that sits at the front of the path, pretending like you’re there waiting for Tommy to come over. 

From your left side, you hear gravel crunch before looking over to see Joel and Tommy walking towards you. Tommy, with the usual warm smile, and then Joel—sulking behind his younger brother with that perpetual furrowed brow, holding himself like a kid who just got scolded.

Ironic.

Tommy calls your name as he approaches you, greeting you politely. “Well, bit of a spoiler, but this here is gonna be your new patrol partner,” he says with a smile that feels slightly forced as he looks to his older brother, slapping his shoulder. Joel, on the other hand, has yet to make eye contact with you. Instead his eyes have taken interest in the graveled path, the front gates, the stables behind him, the sky—quite literally everywhere and anywhere but on your figure as his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. 

It makes you have to stifle a scoff considering the first time—which happens to also have been the last time—that you saw him for longer than a passing glance, he couldn’t stop staring at you with that scowl on his face.

You try to force kindness, though, and give him a short, polite nod. 

Maybe he’s more like Ellie than he comes off, you think. Maybe you guys can talk about the same interests that Ellie discusses she enjoys with Joel. 

“Sounds good to me,” you say with a tight-lipped smile.

“Great! Isn’t that great, Joel?” Tommy asks while looking at his brother. 

Joel’s face turns to you, gaze scanning your body to look at your clothing and shoes. You assume he’s judging your choice of patrolling attire, and figuring out whether to deem you as fit. He finally looks up and makes eye contact with you for the first time in months. You didn’t think it was possible, but you swear his scowl deepened when he looked at you.

“Fine,” he grits out between his teeth.

Alright. That’s fine. Things will go fine.

He is nothing like Ellie.

This is literally impossible.

When the two of you had gotten onto your respective horses and gone past the gates, it was a quick trip up the hill and into the forest. Once the forest thickened, you had to slow to only a trot through the woods—watching and listening for anything that seemed abnormal on your journey into the nearest town. This morning’s patrol is meant to send the pair of you through town to check and clear any nearby hordes that may have trickled in before they get any closer to Jackson. You both were then to report your logs at the lookout point before heading back. It sounded easy enough, yet trotting next to Joel and his horse made the time go achingly slow, the awkward silence making you uneasy.

You could almost feel the anger radiating off him. It wasn’t just about him not being talkative—it was as if your mere presence near him pissed him off. You offered him quiet as you both rode through the area at first, before deciding to ask about Ellie, hoping that it may be a topic he feels fine with conversing in.

It wasn’t.

He immediately would sigh whenever you started a sentence, his eyes not even attempting to look in your direction. You tried to reason with yourself and say he just wants to make sure he stays alert and watches out for anything. Okay, that’s fair enough, you could do the same.

Some time passes by before he speaks up, his sudden voice making you flinch as he mutters, “Town comes up in a few miles.”

You turn to see him still looking straight forward, nodding in the direction you were headed. You nod and mumble in agreement before deciding to ask things about patrol. Surely he had to answer questions about that, right?

“Have you had to deal with hordes in this area often?”

Silence.

“What’s the usual protocol for taking them down in only pairs?”

“Oh I thought you’d know ‘bout that with Tommy’s trainin’?” He says in a sarcastic, condescending way. Of course this is how you get the most emotion and conversation out of him.

“I do know. I guess I… I just didn’t know like—” You trail off before sighing and giving up, feeling stupid. It felt frustrating, honestly—how Joel’s treatment towards you, dealing with you as if you were a child, was the thing that made you feel like you were one.

The trees clear as a tiny deserted town comes into view—the area essentially just one short road with a gas station, a small market, and a few abandoned cars scattered along the way. 

Joel wordlessly gets off his horse, the action prompting you to do the same before his head snaps in your direction at the sound of your movement. “The hell you doin’?” He harshly barks. 

You freeze and try to respond, but he gives you no time before saying, “You stay out here for lookout. I go in and check the stores. Didn’t anyone teach you that?”

He walks into the gas station with his gun raised before you get a chance to apologize, feeling upset with yourself for making a mistake. You stay outside as you’re told, looking around for anything while you hear the sounds of Joel rummaging through the stores. Finding nothing of importance, he walks back outside towards you before getting on his horse and riding off without a word or glance in your direction. You take that as a queue to follow him as the two of you continue riding up to the base of the lookout point.

Continuing through the woods, you both cross over a small river, a look up ahead showing a large yet broken building with a satellite station attached to it. You recall being here once before with Eugene—“It’s a radio tower,” he had said.

Joel and you ride your horses and jump over the barbed wire that surrounds the building—traps that the people of Jackson had set up around lookout points to catch infected that tried to wander inside the closed off areas. 

You both make your way inside the garage on the side, tying up your horses before making your way through the torn down holes in the wall. You stray from the room as Joel begins moving planks of metal out of the way to clear the path. Moving through a gap in the concrete, you stop when you come across a small balcony showcasing a beautiful view of the land. 

Noticing your pause, Joel whips his head around to search for you, before seeing your body between the small space. He calls out to you with a snapped, “C’mon, quit messin’ ‘round—we need to get up top.”

You sigh and follow him back into the room, the two of you making your way through a gap against the ground. Joel bends down to slide the final piece of metal out of the way, revealing the space for you both to crawl through. Making your way through the makeshift shute, you hear Joel grunt as he straightens himself out.

He takes a hold of the power cable that was dangling to allow patrol members to climb up to the lookout point. Joel makes his way up first, before stopping and bending down to help you climb up, taking your hand at the top to hoist you over the side.

The moment you make it over, his hand rips away from yours as if your touch burns him. The detail makes you grit your teeth in annoyance at how adamantly he seems to dislike you.

As Joel opens the door to the office, you scan your eyes around the room, recognizing the space from the last time you were here. Metal desks with radio equipment on them are placed around the room with office chairs—cabinets lining the area around the desks. You take a peek into the room branching off of this one, seeing two couches around a coffee table. A bong on the table making you lightly scoff and smirk as you remember Eugene’s interest in such… habits.

You enter back into the main office space to see Joel bent over a desk, signing your names into the log sheet to mark the time you both have arrived. You take the moment to walk over to the balcony that holds a telescope and sniper rifles laying against the barrier. You look out to find the next nearest town out in the distance.

As you take a quick glance around the view, you hear Joel come stand a few feet to your right. He moves his hand across the railing to pick up a pair of binoculars that rest between you two, when you notice a watch that sits around his left wrist—a small hole in the glass that separates into tiny cracks. Taking a closer look, you realize the hands aren’t moving… it was broken. Odd, you thought, but perhaps he just liked the look of the watch too much to replace it.

After spending some time scanning the area, Joel stops short and hands the binoculars to you, pointing a bit to the right of you two. You look through them to find what he had spotted—infected. Not a lot, in fact it looks to be about only six stray ones all mindlessly walking around.

He takes the binoculars back from you, keeping an eye on them and saying, “It’s only a couple. Don’t look like they’re part of a larger group. Seems to have run off chasin’ some animal and now they don’t have anythin’ to grab their attention. We can clear ‘em out real quick here, make sure they don’t get any closer—”

A sharp gunshot causes Joel to jump, pulling away from the binoculars before looking at you in shock and hearing another gunshot. You have one of the sniper rifles positioned against the railing, scoped in as you shoot down the stray infected miles from the lookout. Finished taking down the six that you two had spotted, you quickly scan the area to make sure any more haven’t appeared before pulling yourself away from the rifle.

“Got it,” you say nonchalantly, looking over at Joel to find his eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and that permanent frown on his face. His eyes look shocked for a split second before settling back onto the anger you had grown accustomed to. You feel briefly confused at his reaction, considering you’ve done this with other patrol members all the time during practice routes.

“Don’t just go shootin’ that thing—you call it out. Always. Gonna make someone go fuckin’ deaf shootin’ off a gun so close to ‘em without warnin’,” he says. You nod at him in understanding while he continues to just stare at you with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place before shaking whatever thoughts were in his head. 

He throws down the binoculars and nods his head behind you both with a muttered, “C’mon,” before making his way out. You follow him down the way you both came, climbing back onto your horses to make your way back to Jackson. 

On the journey back, Joel rides a few paces in front of you, quicker than when you guys were headed to the radio station—as if he wanted to leave you sooner rather than later. You silently follow him all the way back to Jackson, the gates opening when you arrive as the people on guard recognize you too. Riding through the gates and towards the stables, you see Tommy climbing down from his post at the gates, jogging over with a grin on his face and clapping his hands together once.

“So, how was your first patrol?” He asks you.

Opening your mouth to respond politely, Joel brushes past you, marching over to his younger brother before grabbing his arm and pulling him into the stables with him. “I need to talk to you,” he demands through gritted teeth.

You see Tommy give you an apologetic look before catching up and follow Joel in the stables.

Looking over at them, but not hearing them, you see Joel rushing out something to Tommy—waving his hands out with an annoyed look on his face.

Well… there goes your first and last patrol with Joel.

Deciding to leave it, you walk into town, stopping at the market to grab a few items before heading back home to wash up in time for dinner in the mess hall. Reaching your street, you walk over to your house before getting cut short when you notice Ellie hovering outside your short fence.

“Ellie? Everything okay?”

Her head turns to you before sighing out of relief. “Oh thank god,” she says, “I am in the middle of trying to make this stupid fucking lemon cake that Maria told me about, but I don’t have any lemons and uh… I was hoping you had some.”

Her words make you smile knowingly. This has been happening a few times—not that you were complaining. You noticed the girl would appear outside your house, or at the stables, either needing something or needing help with something. Except, each time they were clearly things that she could get herself or go to anyone about. It wasn’t too long before you caught on and realized she just wanted an excuse to talk to you or have company. You found it endearing, and it became something you looked forward to and welcomed each time.

Responding with a small laugh, you say, “Yeah, I got lemons. Wanna come inside while I put these things away and grab you some?” You offer.

Her face lights up before she enthusiastically nods and immediately starts walking towards your door. With a laugh, you follow her to open your door before opening it and watching her walk right into your kitchen like she lives here. Rounding the corner after her, you see her jump up to sit on her usual spot at your kitchen island, swinging her legs back and forth as she watches you put away some groceries.

“Soooo… What’d you do today? I went by the stables this morning and couldn’t find you.”

“Oh,” you respond, “I actually had my first official patrol today, so I was out past the gates.”

You turn to see her expression and find her eyes have widened. “No shit! Really?! Dude how was it?” She asks.

“It was good, ya know. Typical. Nothing out of the ordinary,” you say quietly, hoping she doesn’t ask anything else. But, she does.

“So who’d you get stuck with as your partner? God, is it Seth? For your sake I hope not—he’s so fucking annoying and acts all high and mighty all the time,” she says while rolling her eyes.

Not making eye contact, you try to act nonchalant as you keep your focus on pulling out the lemons from the fridge. “Um, my patrol partner was actually… Joel…” you trail off.

You get no response from the typically chatty girl, so you look over to see her eyebrows raised, eyes wide, and mouth in a small o shape. 

Great, even a fucking teenager can tell how awkward this is.

The surprise leaves her face after a second, before she looks at her feet swinging in the air. Looking back up to you, she says, “Well… Maybe Seth wouldn’t have been so bad.”

“Shut up,” you laugh out loud, shaking your head at her as she bursts into giggles. Trying to change the subject off of patrol, you ask, “So are you the fan of lemon cake or is Joel?”

Ellie’s smile kinda wavers as she suddenly becomes very shy. “It’s actually for this girl in my class…” She says before she gets kind of panicky and rushes out, “Like, she’s my friend ya know. And… she said she likes lemon cakes, and Joel’s always on my ass about making friends so I thought ‘oh this girl says she likes something’, so maybe if I make it for her then she’ll like, wanna be my friend and… stuff.”

Your lips turn up at the ends a bit at her rambled statement. “Well I think that’s an amazing way to make friends. That, and showing up at people’s doors asking for things.”

She smiles before checking the time and groaning. “Ugh, I have to go home and finish making these lemon cakes before I gotta work on homework.”

You nod and hand her the bag of lemons before walking her back to her front door. When you get there, she reaches for the handle before her door flies open suddenly—Joel on the other side.

Guess he finished his talk with Tommy.

His eyes make contact with you first before he looks at Ellie. “Where were you?” 

Unphased by his cold demeanor, she rolls her eyes and pushes past him. “Oh relax, dude. I’m making lemon cakes for Cat from school and needed some lemons so she gave me some,” she says pointing to you. “You know, if you’re nice and say please then you can have some.”

He grunts at her in response and she looks back at you smiling. “Thanks again for these, I’ll see you tomorrow!” She exclaims before running into what you assume is the kitchen.

You smile after her and begin to walk backwards when you see Joel is still holding the door open and staring at you.

“Uh, bye Joel,” you offer, with no response from him. Ignoring it, you turn around and walk all the way back to your door.

Opening it, you turn around to take another look behind you and see Joel still standing in the same spot—still staring at you. He slams his door shut after a moment, prompting you to do the same to yours.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 a/n: thank you SO much for all the amazing love i've received for the first chapter alone. having never written before, it's really amazing to read all your lovely comments <3 posted this one day earlier than planned because i was too excited hehe! next chapter will be out saturday april 19th :) i also was asked by a few people to be tagged, so here you go! if anyone else wants to be tagged then please let me know! @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog

[daylighted]

oh em gee i was about to go to sleep but i was js thinking about how baby!reader and sam would also be really close i think

and so maybe one night like during a hunt sam finds baby just like upset cause she’s trying to figure out what a lore book or whatever says and she’s frustrated 1. cause she can’t read it and 2. she doesn’t understand why her eyes are suddenly wet and why she’s feeling this way cause she’s never felt this before

and so sam just like teaches her how to read a little maybe and just helps her understand what she’s feeling and why

IDKKK I JS THOUGHT THAT WAS SO CUTIE

(also trust i know baby is a badass i’m just leaving this thought here (LOVEE YOU AND YOUR WRiTING<3333))

STOP THIS MADE ME GO 🥺 LITERALLY OH MY GOD. i hope i can get this to u before u fall asleep so it can be... ironically ... like a bedtime story :')

and i agree baby is a lil badass so so much and part of that is bc girl feels all of her things SO unapologetically :') !!! so i love this and have been meaning to think more on sam n baby's dynamic too so it is PERFECT.

they were always looking at those books, splayed out on whatever shoddy surface the motel room had. sometimes they had tables shoved into corners, or desks pressed so tightly against a wall that the wallpaper cracked behind it, the little space clearly not equipped for every bit of furniture the owners wanted to cram inside of it.

either way, you'd become aware of the winchesters habits, and that was one of them. a worn and faded leather book beneath one of their big hands, skimming the lines like they'd seen what was in the pages a million times, enough to know where in the book to flip to when they wanted something in particular.

dean went on a food and coffee run after begrudgingly admitting to the fact that this one was going to take all night, and sam decided to jump in the shower while he was gone, leaving you at the desk squished between the wall and the tv stand, one of the books open under your hand.

it was nothing special. inky lines and rough sketches across every page, some things crossed out and others underlined. you'd flipped through the entirety of the book to make sure that this really was all there was to it, and sure enough, there wasn't a deviation. every page had scribbly shapes on it, and every other page a scribbled drawing, and it didn't make any sense.

dean sometimes held the book up on its edge, nose pressed in close like he was trying to read in between what was on the pages, so you tried that, too. you were waiting for something big to happen. that was another thing about the winchesters; looking at one of these leathery things full of paper always led to pieces of whatever case to click together.

nothing clicked. nothing made sense. this was another thing that they shared, something programmed into them that was left out when it came to the making of you, and it was devastating.

you try to breathe in, but your chest catches on it, lips parted as you gasp on it. your throat is tight. your eyes have water in them. all of this at once surely must have meant you were dying, right? you'd breathed normally up until now, and your throat didn't feel like it was closing until now, and your eyes weren't supposed to have water coming out of them, streaming down your cheeks in little rivers, pooling on the desk's warbled surface.

you get up, the catch in your chest only getting worse, banging on the room's bathroom door. sam's shower had stopped running a few minutes ago, so you knew he was in there, either half dressed or holding a plastic thing in his mouth with something foamy on his lips. they did that a lot. helped you do it, too, even though you didn't remember the word for it. how were you supposed to think right now? you were dying.

"sammy?" you ask, and your voice even sounds weaker. you hit the door harder, a little whimper in your throat, terror clawing at the lump like it was trying to break through it. "sammy..."

the door tugs open, sam's tall figure looming over you, a look of concern written into his features. "what's wrong?" it clicks a second after the words leave his mouth, concern half giving way to something sympathetic. "baby."

you keep wiping at your eyes but it keeps coming. "there's something in my throat. and my eyes—" you rub your palms into your eyes, trying to shove the rivers back into the sockets. "they're leaking. they're leaking, they're—"

sam melts further, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. he's as warm as the bathroom air, slipping through the gapped door he stood in. "you're crying," he says slowly, gently, palm rubbing down your spine, soothing the choke in your voice, "that's alright. nothing's wrong. people cry, sometimes."

that was reassuring, but how were you supposed to get it under control? sure, you weren't dying, but you were a little out of your league, here.

your lack of answer seems to prompt sam to continue, his chin resting on the crown of your head. "what were you doing?" he asks, taking a step backwards to be able to see your face better. "before you started crying. so i can try and fix it, or help, or anything you need."

you point behind you, to the misplaced desk and the stupid leather thing full of useless pages. "i tried to look at it. like you and dean do."

sam nods in understanding, the concern now fully crumbled through and leaving that sympathetic, glimmery look in his eyes.

"it didn't make any sense. i don't know what is in there. it's all just lines and shapes and..." you throw your hands up in frustration, and what do you know? the tears have stopped, and the very familiar feeling of unwarranted fury sits on your tongue. "it is stupid. that thing is unhappy."

the corner of sam's lips quirk. "it can be unhappy." he steps around you, hand on your elbow to easily brush past you. "it's a book. one of dad's. details about the things we hunt on cases."

"books are unhappy."

there was no getting through to you right now, but sam always tried. dean sometimes just got frustrated along with you, but sam always managed to maintain the gentleness that came with trying to teach you the comings and goings of humanity.

he picks the book up and flips through the pages, and you almost see red, knowing that, in that moment, he was doing the exact thing you couldn't. but then he lifts a hand, motioning you to come closer with his finger. "it's unhappy, but it's not gonna bite," sam says, dropping his hand to tug the chair back for you to sit down. you do, though not without the stubborn reluctance. "look at the line at the top."

"no." a puff of angry breath leaves your mouth along with the words. "i already know i do not see what you and dean see. i do not want to start doing the crying again."

sam laughs this time, finger dropping to the line in reference. "it's a sentence. everything on this page is sentences, made up of words that you read." his nail traces the beginning of the page. "that word? wendigo."

your eye is twitching. "i cannot do the read either." you shove his finger out of the way, lifting the book close up to your face. "it looks like loopies and droopies."

"the loopy is a w," he cages you in from behind, one arm on your right side holding him up, the other's index finger back at the word. "words are made of letters. letters are... yeah, for the most part, loopies and droopies."

it sounds silly in sam's mouth, but, whatever. it made sense to you. "the word i told you? wendigo?" he traces beneath the word as he goes, "w-e-n-d-i-g-o."

you stare at it, each piece of the word and then all at once, mouthing the letters to yourself. very fun first word to learn, but that was only one on the whole page, and that was not enough for you. you wanted to understand everything. you hold the book close to your face, again like dean, as you scan over every sentence and word and letter.

sam is patient behind you, and quiet, as he lets you study. you slam the book down, the spine colliding with the wood echoing in the little room. you point at a word in the middle of the page. "when."

forget the loopy in the middle. you saw wen and knew it.

sam pats your shoulder. "yeah, that says when," he reaches up to the desk to close the book, pushing it closer to the rest of books in their pile, "not a very good starting place for learning to read, so we'll do something else later, how about that?"

he pushes it away, so you grab it, palm flat and possessive over the hardcover. "i want this one. i know two words in it already."

"baby, there are words in that book that even i don't know how to say," sam says, giving you that look that he always tends to when, and you quote, you're being a little too bossy. "we'll start with the hotel keycard. or the tv guide. very much easier, and not as scary of a topic."

"but—"

"you are already overwhelmed." his voice is so gentle. him and dean have this way of bottling up all of your intense feelings and condensing them into something more manageable for all three of you. "i don't think you want to cry again tonight, so we're starting slow. with how you're learning, it won't take long until you're up there with me and dean, reading easy and naturally."

your eyes roll. his brighten with amusement. "i just don't want to feel so different and wrong." you meet his gaze, and the amusement has tampered, replaced with a sadness that must be reflected in your own. "you and dean do things all the time that i can't. i want to."

"we'll get you there." sam's words are a solid promise, hand coming up to ruffle the mess of your hair. "but in the meantime, no more crying. you shouldn't want to be like me and dean. you're fine just like this."

even you knew that sounded cheesy. you're about to tell him as such, but he holds up a finger. "we know all of this as easily as we do because we grew up too fast, and too afraid. you don't ever need to be upset that you didn't go through all that we did." he lifts your hand off of the book, using that gentle grip to yank you out of the seat and away from your dried tears on the desktop. "but it's normal. normal to cry, normal to get upset over things you can't do. baby, if you're worried about not fitting in with us because you don't feel human enough, that just makes you even more like us than you think."

you might have asked him about that part, but it seemed a little too invasive. you had some limitations to the endless array of questions you bombarded them both with. instead, you move to stand in front of the tv, staring at it, trying to will it on.

"take it to the tv guide." you nod toward it, eyes narrowing still in your efforts to peer pressure it on. "i want to learn to read the show dean watches."

sam grabs a little rectangle off of the stand, shaking his head. "no. no, you really don't."

notes. tagging everyone in this one bc i am classifying it as an official part^tm in the babyverse hope u dont mind.

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 8

Miguel usually starts his day off by preparing a dark cup of coffee immediately after finally peeling himself out the bed. With droopy eyes and a five o’clock shadow, his husky figure stumbles into the kitchen, thirsty for caffeine. As he waits for the machine to do its magic, he’ll maybe run his hand through his dark, peppered, slept-on hair or take a moment to clean his glasses with the fibers of his sweats. Once the cup is prepared, the fresh scent of grinded coffee beans in the air, he’ll lean against his kitchen counter, sipping happily from his world’s best brain mug. He’ll relax for a moment, thinking about the material he’s planned for the day. Once he’s done, he’ll wash his cup, and start getting ready.

He left the suit about three years ago, taking up the job as professor of genetics and biochemistry at around the same time.

He’s been happy with his life here. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s simple. Everything he wanted. All the domesticity that was missing in his life had been rediscovered once he hung the mask. It’s been the best decision he’s ever made.

He didn’t think things could get better until you came along. This gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet person that had him wrapped around their finger. And given his stature and age, he never would have thought you’d fallen, too.

So this morning looks a little different, and every morning since he’s met you, for that matter.

Miguel gets up from bed faster now, with you on his mind. Once he makes his way into the kitchen for his fix of coffee, he’s reminded of the dream, possibly a pornographic one, he had about you. He’s like a horny teenager all over again, with an ache between his legs that, now, only you can inflict on him, and it’s there every morning.

Miguel now uses the time that it takes for the coffee to drip to shoot you a good morning text, accompanied by multiple heart emojis. And of course, he takes a little longer to get ready in the mornings just because he wants to make sure he looks his absolute best for you.

Today, while sipping on his café, he remembers the conversation you two had. It was when you two had gone to his office after the library. And then he remembered the things he shared with you about his past life; how amazingly you took the dump of lore. Only a higher power would know what anyone else would’ve done or said after hearing things like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about your one and only question/response to it all:

“Are you happy?”

The response itself was all that he needed to see if his feelings for you were valid, and these feelings have become the strongest thus far. Miguel doesn’t want to jinx it, but he thinks what he’s feeling is something a tad bit more serious than a simple crush, and that both excites and terrifies him.

While he gets ready for the day, he then thinks about the conversation prior to that. He meant everything he said last night about not having sex, but at the same time, he would want nothing more than to show you how much of a good man he can be to you, both in daily life and in bed. Even though he’s hard at the very thought of you, he also wants you to feel safe more than anything. Being with you is far more important than the needs of his dick.

The fact that you’re his student also sort of weighs in as well. Getting caught in a professor/student scandal on the last week of classes before you receive your masters would be disastrous. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one has been suspicious of y’all this semester.

Honestly, Miguel is just looking forward to Summer, because for him, that means he gets to take you out and enjoy you every chance he gets.

<3

For the last few days of classes, you tend to your exams and Miguel busies himself with his own work. You guys haven’t really been with each other, with the exception of passing each other in the halls. It hasn’t been easy on you at all, and even more so on Miguel. Let’s just say his office door has been spending more time locked than unlocked, and not to score papers. Thankfully, the walls are thick.

The day you take Miguel’s exam is the very last day of classes, and at this point, both of you are antsy to not only see but just feel each other. The tension in the air is thick, the text messages have become spicier, and on multiple occasions have the phone calls been so close to just becoming pure phone sex, but you and Miguel had to keep your distance. Just for this week, and afterward, y’all can do anything you desired. For now, you have to settle for the small touches and occasional eye contact during the exam.

That night when he dropped you off at your place, you half joked about him giving you a perfect score purely out of bias.

“I would never. I take my exams very seriously, for your information.” He responded smugly, his hairy forearm on the door of his car where the window would be. “Besides, you’re far too smart for that.“ His voice softens toward the end of his sentence, that lovesick smile he always gawks at you with on his face.

“I’m serious, Mig. I want an accurate grade.” You match his volume, leaning down onto the car window, face to face with him.

“Mama, I promise. I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score anyways, but on the off chance that you don’t,” he leans closer to, his breath on yours, “Maybe I’ll just have to give you more private sessions during the Summer.” You chuckle against his lips once they meet yours.

“You’re such a horndog.” The words are muffled by his lips and tongue. “Only for you.” He mumbles, unable to keep his mouth off of yours. Miguel really was hot n bothered by you all the time, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s your little loser after all.

The glances and “accidental” brushing of hands had definitely occurred before and during the exam. Emotionally, it kind of took y’all back to the beginning of the semester, when the feelings were first bubbling. Alas, you had to stay focused. Compared to your peers, you practically flying through it. Even though you spent half the time mingling during them (and making out), the tutoring actually helped in the end.

When it was time to submit your exam, you gave him a knowing look. All Miguel does is give you a smile, but one that was genuine and sweet. One that reassured you in the sentiment that he was going to score you accurately.

At the end of the day, you didn’t even care about what score you got, as long as Miguel nor you get in trouble. That’s all that mattered to you.

<3

It’s later in the day, and you’re in your dorm. Tomorrow is your big day. The day you walk along the stage and take your master’s in your hand; physical proof of your knowledge and hardwork. You were also thinking about Miguel and what he’s up to, but what’s new.

You were thinking about how after your graduation, Miguel will no longer be your professor and you his student. You would just be two people who were absolutely crazy about each other, and you were looking forward to that.

You get a text from Miguel.

Missing my baby. Just thinking of you.

Aw, I miss my big teddy bear, too. What you up to?

Finished about 30% of these papers. Need to take a break, though. What if I came and picked you up?

And go where?

Home

I’m already at home, ya goof

I mean my home, but you absolutely don’t have to. We could go to the library or whatever you want.

No! I’d love to come over.

You sure?

Of course, I wanna see what other books I can steal from you

Only in this for the books, I see. Ouch.

Don’t be dramatic, you know that’s not true

Do I?

You gonna pick me up or not?

Putting my shoes on.

He had you kicking your feet. You were unsure if it was a good idea, but that didn’t stop it from being an extremely enticing one. You were just worried about someone seeing you enter his home, but otherwise, you would love to see where he lives, despite making the deal about not seeing each other until after graduation. This whole time, you’ve only gotten familiar with his office, and that’s only one small part of him. You just couldn’t wait any longer to be near him, and besides, classes are technically over.

<3

“So you’re half spider?” You and Miguel relax in his living room. You scour his book shelves while he makes you a drink. His place is exactly how you imagined it. It’s a balance of sharp and cozy, like him.

“I know, not the most exciting of confessions.” Miguel’s sarcasm seeps through his speech and it makes you huff. Such a sass master.

“I’m being for real. I think that’s amazing and all, but I’m glad you chose to leave that life.” Your eyes are still on the spines of his books when you start to hear heavy footsteps coming your way. He’s just as excited to be near you as you are, if not, more.

“Me, too,” Miguel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss on your head, “or else I would’ve never met you.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” You playfully comment, getting on your tip toes to kiss him, his pouch rumbling against your torso from his chuckling. “Definitely. Without you, I was starting to lead on a pretty lame life.” Miguel humored at himself. He knew that although going to teach classes, returning back home, and repeat was a pretty peaceful routine, he also knew it could be a boring one at times.

You lean your head back in exaggerated astonishment, “Why would you say that? You’re the coolest person I know, and not because you were spider-man,” you run your hands up and down his chest as you list off his cool factors, “You’re a genius, you’re a family man, you’re funny, you’re also an Austen man, what more could I ask for?”

Miguel looks down at you, his muse, his angel, his everything. “Thanks, mamita. I’m proud to be your choice. Making me feel like the luckiest man in the universe.” You’re enjoying this little romantic banter between you two, and Miguel loves it.

“However, that last one is a secret between us. Can’t have people knowing that their exSpider-Man enjoys classic literature.”

“Speaking of which, have you gotten to the end of pride and prejudice?” You take his hand and lead him to the couch where you both plop down and find a good cuddle position. Miguel is the perfect amount of warmth even though he wore nothing but sweats, meaning his dad build was out in all of its glory. It took everything in you not to pounce on him. Miguel wasn’t much help either. When he’s sitting down and you’re sitting in between his legs and he brings you in close to him to hug you. He’s all kissing your neck and playing with the waistband of your pants with his hand because truly he wants to eat you out so so so bad and is extremely so hard by the intimacy, but he knows tonight is not the night, and so did you.

“I’m not finished yet, but I’m close.” He mumbles against your skin. Miguel was always a master of flipping your switch, this time using the smacking of his plump lips against your supple skin, claiming your neck, shoulders, and jaw as his.

“Mm… y’know what would be a great idea?” you manage to get out.

Miguel stops what he’s doing and braces himself. “Oh God. What?”

“If you read whatever you have left of the book to me.”

“You want me to read it? Out loud?” Miguel finds this cute. You nod your head eagerly, and Miguel was absolutely cooed by the request. “Like I’ve said millions of times before, I love the sound of your voice.”

“Para ti? Claro Que si, mi vida.” And so he went and grabbed the book and his glasses, settling back into his position under you, and began reading in his soft, silky voice. You listened intently, the words falling right out of his mouth, making music to your ears. For Miguel, this was an honor. He’ll take glances down at you and see that you’re in total awe of him, latching onto every word he recites. He hadn’t done something like this since, well, Gabriella.

This is the life he wanted. The life he had been living the past three years had served him well, but Miguel felt it. He felt it was time for another chapter. He was so certain. He’s decided he wants this every night.

Miguel reads on, simultaneously rehearsing what he’ll say in his head. The themes of newfound love and romance of the book was inspiring him. It made the scene all too perfect for the both of you. He then takes a long pause on a page. You can feel his belly hitch. “Everything alright?” You ask softly. “I’m okay. More than okay.” He sounds as though he might get emotional.

Miguel looks away from the book and into your eyes, putting the novel down. You two are in his home, on his couch, cuddling with a book, and the school year has come to an end. Miguel needs to say something and feels it’s time to share it. It’s now or never.

“You,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shining, breath steadying,

“I love you.”

The words send your heart rate to oblivion.

“W-what?”

“I love you.” Miguel says this so matter of factly, like he’s never been so sure of something in his life.

You had to make sure what you heard matched what he said and it did. You’ve wondered when he would say it. You would’ve been fine had he done so on the first date! You only have one response to this, and tears well up in your eyes before you can say it, “I love you, too.” You attack Miguel with kisses, and both of you relish in this monumental moment in your blossoming relationship. You’ve finally found the prince to your fairytale.

“I adore you”, “I worship you”, “I’m so proud of you,” and more “I love you”s fall from Miguel’s lips, making the tears well up in your eyes again and your heart swell even more.

Miguel continues to read for you, savoring the special memory you both will now share for a very long time. Sometimes, he’ll just stop mid paragraph just to say it to you again, that he loves you, and you say it back. Both of you are giddy little kids, telling each other how much you love the other, trying to one up each other like it’s a contest. At some point, you can feel yourself start to fall, and Miguel sees it, but he proceeds with the story. The mixture of his lulling voice and the soothing sensation of his rising and falling tummy was the perfect combo for sleep. Once you’re completely out, Miguel turns off the lights by voice command, and lays a blanket over you. He holds you tight against him, as if you could disappear at any moment, and plants a kiss lovingly on your forehead. He whispers ‘te amo, mi vida’ before slumber takes him over as well.

<3

You can feel a light gently shed on your eyelids. You’re not fully conscious yet, drifting between the states of awake and asleep.

Your fingers flicker with life, and you think you feel something rough. Your eyes crack and you’re met with a blurred figure. Your vision focuses and you make out a face, your fingers lingering on the jaw. Your lips curl at this face. The closest thing in view is a pair of dark lips, parted and inspiring deep, low snores. Taking account of their breath, you feel the inhaling and exhaling of his stomach against your front side. You lift your head slightly to get a better view of the person you currently lay on top of. Tousled black hair, dark eye lashes that ornament sleeping eyes, thick brows lacking the tension creases that would otherwise be there, and some missing glasses, which now sit on a side table. The sight was sweet enough to make the coldest heart melt. You take a moment to just observe his breathing, his relaxed state, and start leaving small, ghostly caresses on his face, absorbing each line and shape of his rugged complexion. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You wanna stay in it forever. The outside world finally makes its presence known with a few chirps of birds, and your attention goes to a window and that’s when it hits you: you’re still in Miguel’s place, and you both had fallen asleep on his couch. At last, you gain enough consciousness to realize that, for the entirety of the night, you had been held the same way a child holds their most beloved teddy bear by your exprofessor, now lover.

No, you two didn’t have sex, just like how it had been discussed a few days ago. You were both still clothed, yet, somehow, this feels even more intimate than when y’all eat each other’s faces.

Your attention is stolen back by the snores of the man below you, which makes you stifle laughter. You could honestly lay there watching him for hours. Your eyes glazed over every inch to ingrain the perfect mental image of this soft moment.

A few more seconds pass by before his snoring pattern comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes flutter open, landing on you. His watch goes off in a small, irritable beep. His tired eyes lift as he smiles at the view, despite the noise. This was something that he’s dreamt of waking up to every day.

“G’morning, sleeping beauty,” you softly speak, leaning down for a kiss on his forehead, “You sleep good?” Your voice is sweet, the moment seconds before leaving it honey-like.

“Morning,” his hands that wrapped around your waist unravel and rub your back, “Mhm. like a baby. Don’t think I’ve slept like that in… well, ever.” An early raspiness spills from his lips and its deep enough to make your insides flutter. “Me too.” You reply, gazing into each other’s eyes before sharing one or two good morning kisses on the lips, the second one lingering a couple seconds longer.

“Can you confirm something for me?” You continue, and Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Was I dreaming or did you say the L-word to me last night?” A giggle leaves Miguel’s mouth. “Yeah, I did, and I’ll say it again.” He says in his low voice. You grin ear to ear, bodies glued together as if they were merging into one. His hands come up to your face tenderly, and with pride, he confesses again,

“I love you.”

A/n: I’m back girlies, did u miss me?

<3Taggies<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

[vxnuslogy]

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[iamespecter]

TADC OCs: "The Die Quartet"!

"Oh but Ziku, who are these very handsome die?"

Well I'm glad nobody asked, because that would ruin the joke!

The Die Quartet are OCs of mine that I created for TADC, and for what purpose? Well, they're the minds behind show's music!

Hidden just behind a corner or two, or four, These obliviously mischievous and enthusiastic quartet play whatever music they can, one that certainly matches the current "mood" of what the cast is going through. Meet Cuba, Dodeca, Tetra, and Octa, The Amazing Musical Performers, for The Amazing Digital Circus!

LORE AND BOUNDARIES UNDERNEATH THE CUT!

When the Circus was initially created, it was feeling too barren for a place that's meant to be "lively". And so, Caine went and copy-pasted himself four times, while replacing the heads with some die props he found on the floor, retexturing and adjusting their bodies, to fit their new roles.

A little bit of a code rewrite to make them able of producing any sounds all on their own to be musically intertwined, and the quartet was basically ready to go: but there's only one problem.

Caine completely forgot to remove the admin privileges from their code.

So once the four spawned, they immediately began floating around, dancing and creating the main theme for the circus, and did it all perfectly. So Caine decided that as long as they don't interfere with anything major in the circus and did their job as the musical minds behind the show/game's soundtracks, he doesn't really care about fixing this error and would rather let these four run rampant to create more songs.

Ever since then, the Die Quartet has been messing with every circus members, most of the time playing obnoxious music that fits the "current mood". You'll even see their canes dance to the tempo they've set, like some backup dancers.

Think of it like: You now have x4 Caines with dice heads, flying and snooping around, so that they can "improve the mood" with their music! Ain't that swell??

(But really, all they do is just annoy the Circus members just like Caine does, for the better or the worse. Probably the latter.)

Fun facts about the Die Quartet!

Even though they've all been created at the same time and share the features of a die, they do not consider themselves as "brothers", and only see one another as colleagues instead.

Their names are related to the type of their die: Tetra (yellow), Dodeca (purple), Cuba (red), and Octa (green).

Despite being reused assets of Caine himself, they have distinct personalities that separate them from each other: Tetra is more joyful and playful, Dodeca is a more dramatic/theatric and over the top, Cuba is the natural lead and more stern than anybody, and Octa is the more closed off of the gang but willing to provide his best.

Yet, they all still lack awareness of personal space and boundaries just like Caine, and WILL be intrusive towards anyone they set their sights on, with the intent of predicting their mood and setting the current situation perfectly in musical form. (ex. if a character is sneaking, all four will follow "cautiously" behind while one imitates/pulls out a tiny piano playing to the theme of "tip-toeing". You know, like a cartoon gag.)

Although they can perfectly imitate ANY sound or instrument imaginable, They'll still pull out a "physical" instrument if the gag calls for it.

BOUNDARIES!

You can pretty much draw fanart of them! In fact I would REALLY love to see it and I encourage it! Really, just don't claim them as your own, or steal their designs.

NSFW of them is accepted, but please keep in mind that I have an SFW blog. Which means THERE ARE MINORS. Show them to me privately instead, I'd still love to see it <3

While NSFW is accepted (privately), please make it a morally decent one, because I don't really wanna see some disgusting stuff. This pretty much includes: non-con, scat, etc.

Aside from that though, I hope you all enjoyed these four! I really love how they turned out, and would love to draw them more. I was initially hesitant on showing my TADC OCs because I don't think people would like 'em, but fuck it.

My boys, they deserve to be seen even if just by a few people on the internet.

[scarapanna]

New AU just dropped folks!!

First things first, this is a different one compared to what I teased back around september (Wanted to try and finish up the main designs/polish up some of the lore before revealing it). It's nothing that big but I have a few concepts to polish up more back there shsfsjdbj

Putting that stuff aside, here's what I got for y'all today!!

Just as a small rundown as to what's going on here: all the ancients and beasts embody their assigned virtue, not being guided by their corresponding lights but instead being said lights and guiding the cookies of earthbread.

This is a role they were baked for by the Witches, whom initially planned to have one cookie per virtue; after some trial and error, they eventually settled on it being two instead, since otherwhise there was the risk of corruption and/or a balance loss in cookie society.

The initial virtue the witches worked on was Knowledge, with it's corresponding heralds being alongside the first to have been baked.

These two are known by cookie kind as the "Heralds of knowledge", respectively being the "Representative of Truth" and "Representative of Deceit"

Starting off with Deception, and thus Shadow Milk:

Being the "bad" half of Knowledge, his purpose consists into tricking cookies trough manipulating the seemingly endless supply of information he's given trough his core (aka. the souljam), often playing into half-truths and making even the most false facts seem true. He near-constantly bears a mask, under which he's more prone to the latter.

As all heralds do, he leaves his target once the job is done.

This quality of his does not make him any malicious however, being something engrained in his being and nature, but instead an incredibly neutral being.

He decieves anyone he's encountered/consulted by, regarthless of their true intention. Thus meaning that, anyone with ill or genuine intent will be tricked by him.

Outside of his role, he can be a tiny bit mischievious at times and kind of a trouble maker, especially when it comes to cookies who believe they've become "his friend". The guy finds those types to be pretty funny.

These ""pranks"" are, once again, not inherently malicious, instead serving as a slightly annoying form of entertainment for a bored Virtue every once in a while. He views it as nothing more than innocent pestering.

But putting deception aside, it's time to discuss the "good" part of the virtue known as Truth

Unlike the other half of Knowledge, Pure Vanilla is the one (most) cookies aim to consult. As he instead shares the very same information both him and Shadow Milk hold with cookie kind, often finding himself answering questions or un-doing the work of Deceit.

He takes his role to heart, and will resort to fighting against what does not align with Truth if necessary..though he sometimes gets caught up fighting for causes that would otherwhise not involve his duty (A prominent one being the fight for Freedom, after it's herald fell from grace.)

Purpose aside, he's not as "expressive" as his counterpart, instead outwardly appearing rather unphased by most of the things he encounters. With such an exterior, he still deeply cares for those he's consulted by, and overtime grows more and more genuine with those he takes a liking to.

When this is the case, he tends to smile much more often and ask questions himself. All the information he (and Shadow Milk) know about their interlocutors is only at face value, they might know life experience but certainly don't the personality and interests of that cookie.

Deep down truth is endlessly curious, and satisfying those he encounters brings him great joy.

They do actively make eachother's jobs more difficult, but still respect one another. It IS what they were baked to do after all.