#But if the things turn outs with my brainrot perhaps will come out

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[cambion-companion]

Here’s ya girl who has gone completely feral over astarion. He’s the babiest baby. Okay, here’s the prompt. My characterisation could be a bit (or a lot lol) off bc I haven’t played the game Y E T so feel free to change the things that seem OOC.

Established relationship, but the beginnings of it, on a mission to find a way for astarion to be in the sun again. Reader has given astarion time to work on his sexual trauma so they haven’t been having sex for some time. Reader is 100% ok w that. But they have a big argument over something (not related to sex) and astarion doesn’t know how to resolve the situation other than reverting back to his seductive artifice and using sex as a way to ensure his safety (in this case, emotional safety). Reader figures it out because they (or she) are not dumb. They reassure astarion and he lets himself be vulnerable but also, it turns out that astarion wants that sexual intimacy. But reader decides this will be all about astarion and making him feel good and loved. Body worship, astarion’s praise kink, just everything focused on astarion’s pleasure in a way he has never experienced and that makes him completely unravel once he comes. Not a subby reader, tho. You know me, I don’t do subby.

If this is too long of a prompt, just the sexy part will be ok. Thank you so much, i have such astarion brainrot DDDD:

I Want to Live

word count: 1700

gn!reader x Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic | 18+ only

"I don't think we should use the tadpoles for anything, Astarion." You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the sulky Elf in front of you.

This tense conversation between the two of you had gone on far longer than you'd have liked. Astarion seemed insistent on using whatever advantage the Illithids had unintentionally given your party. Despite not yet knowing the implications of doing so.

Astarion's silver hair glinted in the firelight that warmed your back, his eyes shone like droplets of blood. "You might as well leave me alone, spoilsport." He waved an imperious hand in your direction, sneering at you in the way he knew would hurt you most. "Since you insist on being boring and unimaginative."

You ground your teeth. "I'm trying to keep us safe."

"And a fine job you're doing, my sweet." His lilting voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you ask Arabella how her parents are doing?" He paused, then feigned surprise. "Oh wait..."

Your eyes widened as a jolt of genuine pain lanced through your heart at his callous words. Astarion was aiming to do damage and, like always, he knew how to push your buttons.

Magic sparked at the end of your fingertips as you fought to control your rage. It was the lack of verbal response that alerted Astarion to the fact he might have pushed a little too far with you. His face almost looked regretful for a moment, or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight casting shadows across his features. You didn't gain much insight because of the tears blurring your vision as you quickly turned away and strode as far away from the vampire spawn as you could.

Shadowheart, who always seemed to overhear everything, cast a worried glance your direction before leveling a glare on Astarion who still watched after you with a blank look.

You sat yourself upon your bedroll before the campfire and listened to Volo squeakily tune his lute. Wyll and Gale were over by their tents chatting and Lae'zel sat on a boulder by the river sharpening her sword.

You had thought Astarion would understand and perhaps even agree with you, and the rest of the camp for that matter, that the parasites should not be utilized to gain control of other beings. It was convenient and downright useful, yes...but not worth an unknown cost.

You had thought...since that night when the two of you had become intimate...that he'd maybe come to care for you. But that jab about Arabella's parents, who you'd failed to save, only confirmed that the vampire did not have your best interests at heart.

Sighing, you moved your bedroll away from its usual place beside Astarion's and arranged it next to where Karlach slept. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching you move about but you didn't much care at the moment.

Karlach gave you a curious and concerned look as she came over and got comfortable for the night. "Are you alright? I could hear you and Astarion going at it...and not in the fun way."

You grunted and moved your body to the side so you could scrape out a rock that had been digging into your back. "It's fine. He's just an ass." You said these words loud enough for him to hear.

Karlach shrugged and nodded as if this were common knowledge. She gave you a jolting pat on the back before getting comfortable in her own bedroll.

As the breathing patterns of your companions slowly deepened in slumber, you could not find any rest. You tossed and turned as best you could in such primitive sleeping arrangements. You missed your bed back in Baldur's Gate above the taproom of the Shadowcat Claw, the familiar bustle of voices and a mug of ale in your belly lulling you to sleep. Out in this wilderness, with the thought of your argument with Astarion tugging at your thoughts...you had to get up.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of your bedroll and got to your feet. A quick observation of your companions told you they were all in a deep sleep. All except Lae'zel who sat on the boulder still, keeping silent watch. She nodded at you curtly as you passed and didn't ask any questions, for which you were grateful.

You crept through the foliage down to the place in the forest by the river where you and Astarion had had your midnight tryst. You could still feel his moonlight hair running through your fingers, his fangs on your neck as you arched it just for him. The trust...you thought you had at least earned a little bit of his trust.

"I thought I'd find you here." His voice was velvet, it shivered straight through your defenses to your heart.

"I wanted to be alone, Astarion." You tried to keep your own voice cool and collected, but you ached to hold him in your arms again.

Astarion had followed you from the campsite into the woods. He'd been fully aware of your restlessness, of course he had. He entered your line of sight now, looking very much like a cat stalking its prey. His ruby eyes were dark and trained on your face. "Come now, you're far too obvious for all this bluster. Do you not want to feel me again?" He gave you a crooked smile, showing his teeth. "A second taste, perhaps?"

You felt the hollowness of his words and saw the carefully arranged expression he wore like a mask. Beneath the facade you could make out the telltale twitch of a facial muscle, the tenseness of his eyes, indicating anxiety.

You sighed. "I thought we were passed these games."

"Games?" Astarion's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Games are all part of the fun, my dear. So good at getting the blood pumping."

You folded your arms. "I want an apology."

This tripped him up. For a moment the facade slipped, and he seemed genuinely taken aback. "Apologize?" Then he was back to his usual bluster. "Me? Apologize for what?"

"For having a go at me today. Bringing up Arabella's parents when you know how upset I am about it." Astarion made a noise as if to speak but you cut across him. "That was cruel, Astarion, and I deserve better from you."

"I didn't..." Astarion sighs heavily, his eyes glancing down to the ground then back at your face. "I apologize." The words seemed to pain him in some way. "I wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all. Now let's forget about that and have some fun."

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, saying nothing, simply watching his face lit in the silver moonlight. His unconvincing grin slowly slipped off his face, a troubled frown replacing it. The two of you looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, you spoke.

"You're testing how much I care for you, aren't you?" Your voice was soft, almost inaudible over the rippling stream.

Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback, he seemed to consider taking shelter once more behind his mask of pompous indifference. But then his shoulder's slumped slightly, the fists at his sides loosened. That was all the answer you needed.

You stepped forward and placed your hands around his, tugging him closer. He did not resist, his footfalls light as ever as he drew near. Close enough to feel his breath warm your lips.

"I care about you, Astarion." Your voice was still soft amidst the rustling leaves and sparkling water. "I discourage you from using the tadpole's powers because I couldn't bear to see your will overtaken by yet another monster."

Astarion was silent for a long time, his scarlet eyes turned silver as a moonbeam fell across his pallid face. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "What if it's too late for me? To be anything other than a monster? My only choice is which one." He laughs forcefully, bitterness twisting his mouth.

"I won't let that happen." You encircled him tenderly in a hug, pulling him to rest flush against your body. "We're in this...together."

"Together." The word was echoed back to you, his voice framing the syllables as if it were a foreign tongue.

You turned your face into him and kissed his neck softly, feeling his body tense in your arms and then slowly relax. You kept your lips against his skin, over where Cazador had sunk his fangs all those centuries ago.

Astarion's hands slowly slid up your hips to rest against your lower back as he held you close. Your lips caressed his neck, throat and trailed up to his jaw until you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you." You murmured.

You felt him tense again, not pushing you away, but his hands tightened on your back. "I..." Astarion hesitated. "I'm not quite ready to say those words back to you, my dear."

"I know." You felt no anger, no hurt. You accepted him however he wished to come to you, grateful for this rare moment of vulnerability beneath the stars.

You pushed him back gently until his back made contact with the base of a large sycamore tree. A huff of air left his lungs, quickly claimed by your mouth as you kissed him hungrily this time. Your hands made quick work of his clothing and Astarion became eager to help the process along.

"Vixen." He murmured and you laughed against his lips, your tongues teasing each other.

"You're beautiful, Astarion." You held his face in your hands and kissed his mouth lightly, not allowing him to turn away even as the compliment made his eyes search yours for hints of disingenuity. "I want nothing from you in return." You said firmly, reading his emotional turmoil through your shared Illithid connection. "This is just for you." You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. "To keep."

Astarion's head fell back to rest against the tree trunk as you continued lavishing affection upon him. He moaned your name softly to the night sky as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, the dirt and rocks digging unheeded against your knees. His fingers twisted in your hair and guided you to where he wanted you most.

"Good, my love." You praised him, your words causing his body to shake with increasing pleasure. "Show me."

The night was long and full of bliss. A genuine exchange of pleasure, without the previous facades and plays at affection. You felt the change as surely as he did, and when the others awoke in the morning it was to find your bedroll pulled back right next to where Astarion lay curled against you.

~

"You owe me five gold, Shadowheart." Gale mumbled.

[golden-afternoon]

Yeah I was working on another actual fic but uhhh the 'Nari brainrot took over so uhhh here take me going insane over him and rambling about what comes to my mind. Kay? Kay.

Warnings - nsfw, mating cycle talk from a person who only has google by her side, absolutely not proofread having gone straight from brain to paper, and just know there is a solid chance I'll have more to say about this in the future.

Tighnari, by his very nature, is a very compartmentalized person. His own problems stay within himself to be dealt with later when he is done and everyone else's needs are already attended to. Always concerned with helping others and keeping things in order, even to the point of staying up into the early hours of the morning, less concerned with himself than those around him. If he’s ever struggling with anything at all, he will do absolutely everything in his power to keep anyone from knowing about it, much less something as personal as this.

In the early months of the year, especially as Lantern Rite nears, Tighnari becomes withdrawn. Quieter, more distant. The Forest Watchers have been talking for forever back and forth swapping theories and rumors in not so hushed tones.

“I heard Master Tighnari lost a family member around this time of year.”

“Really? I heard he just reeeeally hates any kind of festivities especially Lantern Rite because it's so noisy, even when not in Liyue.”

“I dunno, maybe he's just sensitive to the cold?”

Unlike the usual case where he was quick to nip such chatter in the bud and tell off the Rangers for gossiping, he remains entirely silent on the issue, otherwise carrying on as usual. Setting up excursions, documenting his findings, helping and guiding wherever he was needed…

Until he just can't stand it anymore. With hardly a word, save perhaps to Collei to ask her to care for things in his absence, he retreats, hiding himself away in his hut, barricading himself in completely so no nosy Rangers have any reason to loiter around.

He hates it.

He understands it's natural and it's going to happen and blah blah blah, but it was such a nuisance to his life he would give anything to not have to put up with it. The worst of it usually lasts a week or two before he can at least carry some semblance of normalcy and feel willing and able to return to work, but while he's in it, it drives him insane.

Some years it's so bad that he can't even focus on anything other than the absolutely filthy thoughts that plague his mind, his hands shaking so hard he can't even hold a pen long enough to attempt any sort of work. Even like this he just doesn't feel right not being productive especially when he's always running around here and there the rest of the year, why should this be any different?

Head slamming into his desk with a groan, a flush curling up his cheeks and neck. Eventually he has to crack, begrudgingly caring for the needs that grow and grow and grow and become nigh insatiable during his rut.

It starts out almost clinical, looking to just take care of a symptom of an illness almost. Face flushed, lips curled into a deep frown, he sits at his desk, fisting his cock with precision, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible by hitting everything just right.

But no. After dealing with this for years you think he would have known by now that just once isn't enough, yet he still hopes year after year. It only gets worse. Over and over and over again until he's just sore and it hurts. Until he can't keep jerking it lest he make his own skin turn raw. By this point he usually finds himself in his bed, ears flat and face buried into some blankets to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he kept grinding his hips into the pillows over and over and over and over, chasing even the slightest modicum of relief.

And most of the time, as annoying as it is, it was completely fine for him to just be stuck imagining some faceless, nameless mate beneath him as he struggled to sate these urges. However, if Tighnari has a bit of a crush… Well, he'd be in for a rude awakening if he hadn't already acknowledged his feelings for you.

I could see poor Tighnari getting almost ill as he realized the cute moans he was imagining sounded a little too much like your voice. Everything freezes for a moment, his stomach lurching both from the realization and the sudden loss of friction when he faltered. He tries so hard to brush it aside, chastising himself for pulling you into his filthy mind right then. But it doesn't stop. Your face, your voice, your skin. Everything. Everything stays in his mind and he cannot stop it. He feels such overwhelming shame about it, but… he does eventually give in and just let whatever fantasies take root, especially since it seems to ease the feelings when he does.

But when he sees you after the worst of it is over and he leaves his hut, guilt grips around his heart and memories of those fantasies rush into his head, leaving him turning on his heel to avoid you at all costs, honestly risking you thinking he hates you with how intensely he's ignoring you.

It's even worse because Tighnari considers hiding in his hut again for even longer as usually he was fine when the worst of it passed, he could resume his duties, but with you around, he could feel his hands shaking, the intense urge to find you wherever you were and pin you down immediately was so strong it scared him a little. Sometimes it caught him off guard too, like he would catch your scent on the breeze and while in his rut, he would genuinely get so horny so fast he's gotten lightheaded, having to catch himself on whatever was nearby so he didn't go crashing down.

If he hated his rut before, the shame of all this made him absolutely loathe it.

Maybe one day you can find a way to make it a liiiiittle more bearable for him ♡

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

[bbyseok]

this time, i’m thinking about lifeguard!bakugou. i’m pretty sure i’ve also seen a post or two about him, but lemme get my brainrot out cuz he’s driving me insane..

lifeguard bakugou doesn’t give onlookers a show they don’t deserve, but people will take what they can get with his classic black tank tops and those bright red swim trunks that hang loosely on his hips.

and really, he’s only wearing the red trunks to follow the uniform rules and look the part of being an actual lifeguard. he’s taken up the job over the summer for whatever reason.. and everyone eats it up in the end.

whether it’s at the beach or a pool, he’s on one of those tall, white lifeguard chairs designated for people like him on duty obviously. he’s got his legs spread out, his right knee swinging inward every down and then with his form reclined back as he surveys the water and the area.

there are some days he’s got a towel draped over his neck and shoulders for him to wipe his sweat away, or a pair of tinted sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose to hide his carmine eyes from the world.

it’s sight to see most definitely. and you can confirm—as you’re one of the many people who come to the water solely to look at him. okay, well- that’s partially true. you come with your friends often to actually enjoy a bit of swimming—so what if you know exactly when bakugou’s shift starts and ends?

anyways, it’s not like you’d actually initiate anything from your attraction. you’ve seen the way he’s already turned down multiple flirting attempts from the more bolder people willing to shoot their shot—it wasn’t pretty.

“i’m the fuckin’ lifeguard who’s supposed to watch your asses and you’re givin’ me a reason to drown you,” he had snapped at some particular person who thought that they had a chance. “scram.”

the lifeguard team only tolerates his blunt behavior because he’s actually pretty damn good at the job when he needs to be, and let’s be honest—he attracts a lot of people.

it’s another day of lounging by the water with your friends, relaxing on one of those typical white beach chaise chairs. you spend your time alternating between chatting and reading a spare book you had brought—paired with sneaking glimpses at bakugou, of course.

but something’s different about today. ‘cause you swear he keeps looking at you too.

you don���t wanna get your hopes up too high; perhaps your daydreaming’s getting a little too out of hand or something, but it’s a little too difficult to ignore his burning stare.

perhaps there’s something on your face? is something wrong with your swimsuit? it’s nothing too raunchy or revealing—it’s something you normally wear for these kinds of outings. or maybe he had heard you say something?

before you know it, his shift is ending soon. it’s actually so bad how you’ve got it memorized. he gets replaced with this redhead that’s definitely way more friendlier than him—kirishima, you think is his name, and you and your friends usually linger around the beginning of his shift before leaving.

“psst,” one of your friends nudges your shoulder, sitting up from the chair. “bakugou’s totally looking at you. like—he’s staring in your direction.”

you blink and sit up as well. okay so, you’re not imagining things. “what-? really?” you don’t dare cast your gaze to the lifeguard, refusing to make eye contact. “but- but why would he?”

“i dunno. maybe he-”

you finally glance over and catch sight of the the blonde heading down from his towering seat, and he tucks his rescue tube under his arm. your eyes follow him and his movements as he walks and—oh shit. he’s walking towards you.

your eyes can’t help but widen as he finally reaches your chair and tilts his head down at you, blazing eyes scrutinizing and narrowed. you’re pretty sure you almost drop your jaw on the floor. he’s even more stunning up close.

“oi,” he says gruffly, glaring down at you in some sort of expectance. “quit your gawking at me. you do that way too fuckin’ much.”

oh god, did he really come over to you just to say that? “oh- oh,” you stammer out, “i’m so sorry- i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i just-” you want to drown out of embarrassment, so it’s a good thing that the water’s right there so you’ll just-

“oh, shut your yappin’,” bakugou dismisses you quickly with a roll of his eyes, and you blink up at him, still a bit embarrassed that he had called you out. there’s a pause that lasts for two seconds before he says, “i’m not gonna be workin’ this shift anymore.”

and now you’re blinking up at him in utter confusion because what? why’s he telling you this? did you make him so uncomfortable to the point that he’s letting you know that he’s altering his work hours? “i don’t understand, i-”

“if you still wanna gawk at me, i’m switching shifts with the dude with the red shitty hair who usually works around this time.” the blonde clears his throat and turns his head away, letting you process his words.

wait. wait. he’s letting you know he’s changing his lifeguard shift with kirishima beforehand because he wants you to. he wants you to be there. he wants to see you there. “o-oh.”

bakugou meets your gaze again. a raspy chuckle falls from his lips then, and you let the image of his small smirk settle into your head as he offers it. “you better be there, pretty.”

(you learn later on that the days he was wearing those tinted sunglasses, he was gawking at you too.)

[harmonysanreads]

aventurine and sunday have practically dragged me back into hsr brainrot help

aventurine’s all for the gleam and glow, the high life, price tags still hanging off his most recent — and undeniably expensive — purchase for you. he’s casual and flirty, but is there a point where he can get out-flirted? what would it be like to have the tables turn and see him flustered for once?

sunday’s responsible, caring, and overall has a look of complete and total perfection. the wings behind his ears are very pretty — would he allow them to be touched, given that the two of you in private? do they subconsciously move and react when he feels strongly towards things, or does he have better self control than that? or are they a bit ticklish, perhaps... (my friend told me that it’s supposed to be “be not afraid”, not “do be giggling and kicking your feet” 😭)

- 🕯️

My dear🕯️anon is cooking again

Aventurine is definitely one of the highest spending yanderes and by that, I mean to the point of being ridiculous. Even if he's not giving you gifts, he's throwing fresh cash at any chance he gets and you can't quite predict when he'll do it.

I've also been trying to figure out the general pattern of his speech and I've heard people mention he isn't an outright flirt and all the instances where he's come close to 'flirting' you'll notice it's him trying to turn the tables in his favor. He's a master at the art of speaking and holding a conversation with him is like walking on a thin rope while balancing five books on your head. I think, if you just don't give up when playing these mental gymnastics with him, he'll be charmed.

Sunday's wings are probably very sensitive and I think it's best you don't touch them without permission, just to soften his mood. I've also had this thought that Sunday would give you one of his feathers as a token of friendship/trust/promise in the early stages of your 'relationship'.

[pinkaditty]

He Knows

(Subaru Kagami x MC X Haku Kusanagi; Tokyo Debunker)

omg guess who's back!!!!! im posting porn as per usual. 2day's porn is about tokyo debunkers!! recently started playing that game and WOW haku kusanagi has stolen my heart holy shit man. i picked him and then proceeded 2 watch him jump off a burning ledge it was really something!!! anyways the more of him i saw the more of him i just ended up liking. like when i found out he's left handed i jus melted on impact bro wtf's wrong with me. anyways here have the result of my 72 hour long haku kusanagi brainrot: porn.

summary: haku's been avoiding you. it's because you're with subaru all the damn time. it's only at a party where you're in close proximity that things get... interesting.

a/n: note that the tokyo debunkers characters have no confirmed ages. i am running on the assumption that, since they refer to themselves as adults in the game, drink, smoke, and gamble that they are at least in the college student age range. also, i have never heard of a high school with a chancellor. typically it's universities that have those. i am running on the assumption that all characters are at least 18 years of age. if canon ages come out and turn out to be lower, i will delete this! thank you <3

cw: MINORS DNI, suggestive, no real smut happening but u get kinda close, mostly buildup tbh, self-indulgent (pls like this i spent hours writing it), gn!mc bc mc isn't described physically at all, strongly implied sexual relations, semi-public?, slight cucking if u wanna call it that?, subaru x reader x haku yea

MINORS DNI!!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY. THANK YOU.

Casino parties in Sinostra were a lot different from Frostheim parties. 

Where Frostheim parties were the peak of elegance; blue and white and silver, the mood just as frosty as the scenery, the dress code limited to the finest silks and satins, the food limited to the neatest hors d'oeuvres, and the conversation limited to humble whispers; Sinostra parties were the peak of gaucheness; all colors gaudy and neon, the mood joyful and jubilant and raunchy, the dress code ranging from evening dresses to last week’s uniform, the food being whatever was served at the nearest table, and the conversation loud and constantly overlapping. If you asked Haku, he didn’t have a preference. Parties were parties. It didn’t matter what kind.

He was here to have a good time. That was somewhat dampened when he realized he’d have no choice but to hang around you. He’d been avoiding you for a reason, after all.

It had been recently when he realized why his heart thrummed like a drum when you were nearby, the beat loud and monotonous in his ears. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he’d scarcely felt, and when he realized what it was, he almost didn’t believe it was genuine. Sure, you were attractive, but all his flirting was, at best, to get your attention and to mess with someone cute. Who doesn’t like attention from an attractive person? He blew it off for the longest time, chalking it up to nerves at how you would respond to his brazen flirting, or perhaps surprise when you would talk to him with a sincere glint in your eye. It was crazy, falling for someone who might be doomed to die, but it was like he couldn’t help himself. Something about how you kept going, even despite that, accepting your potential fate but seeking a way to rewrite it all the same—it impressed him. You had the resilience of a ghoul, a will strong enough to devour a curse. So be it. He promised to himself from the moment he saw Taiga attempt to throw you out of the train window that he wouldn’t let you succumb to such horrors just yet. He had thought that, with the mesmer matches, his promise would be fulfilled. But when your eyes shined with recognition upon meeting his gaze again on that train, he knew he’d bitten off far more than he could chew. So be it. His fate was sealed, as it always had been. 

And, of course, like any romance story, you’d gotten quite close with another guy, Subaru. The odd pangs in his heart rang quite clear through his head when he saw the two of you walking together on campus yet again, or sitting together at mealtimes yet again, or when you’d come by Hotarubi to visit him yet again. He felt childish, feeling an odd jealousy bubbling up in him that he immediately tried to tamp down. He didn’t like feeling that way, not at all. He figured he’d have to rid himself of this somehow, so he distanced himself. Yet, the pull towards you was still strong and hard to ignore.

And then he started falling for you, harder, even after he’d implemented distance, completely unplanned. So, yeah, being here with you after weeks of attempting to avoid your presence after such a revelation was something of a downer. And, super awkward. But whatever, he could take it. He didn’t want to walk aimlessly around this party and see something he shouldn’t, so he was stuck with his dormmates, particularly Subaru, who was stuck—albeit, happily—with you. 

The party was going alright so far. The alcohol had given him a light buzz, enough to at least alleviate his nerves, and relax just slightly. He sank into the couch he sat on, adjacent to the bar. Next to him was Subaru, next to Subaru was Zenji, and next to Zenji was you. At least there was some distance, but his eyes met yours in fleeting glances quite often. It was minimally frustrating, but the buzz helped him ignore it. You were engaged in friendly, flamboyant conversation with Zenji, Subaru seemed a little shifty, though that could be chalked up to being in a loud environment, and Haku was leaning back, swirling his drink in his hands. The endless noise of loud voices and gambling wins and losses echoed in his ears as he did all he could to refrain from indulging much more. But your presence wasn’t exactly helping. 

He turned back to you, to give you another fleeting glance, but his eyes landed on Subaru instead. He seemed a little out of it, his skin shining in the low light with a thin layer of sweat, his breathing heavy and laboured, his face flushed a bright pink. Haku stared at him curiously, concern creasing his eyebrows and quirking his lips downwards. He reached a hand out to gently pat Subaru on the shoulder, who flinched suddenly. Haku looked at him quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing further. “You good?” He examined Subaru’s condition further, noticing his bangs beginning to stick to his forehead from the sweat. “Do we need to leave?”

Haku’s mumbled queries gained the attention of Zenji, who glanced over his shoulder. Upon seeing Subaru’s state, he frets, turning towards him and grabbing his chin, tilting his head back and forth. Haku wished he wouldn’t do that, and hoped onlookers assumed Subaru was just shaking his head. Not that anyone would be looking in this direction, anyway. He notices you curiously peering over Zenji’s shoulder. You showed no signs of concern, rather interest.

“Oh my! Are you alright? You’re quite flushed!” Zenji’s voice was pitched with worry, as he further examined Subaru’s face. “Did you perhaps—ah, but you’re not holding anything…” Zenji tapped his fingers to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. Subaru shook his head at both Zenji and Haku, and waved his hand.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Haku heard a slight tremor in Subaru’s voice.

“Are you sure?” Zenji pressed, leaning towards Subaru, his eyes searching his face for any signs of further ailment.

“I’m fine! Please, enjoy yourselves.” To his credit, Subaru hid the tremor this time, but Haku could still sense something was wrong. However, he decided to let it go, assuming that they wouldn’t be here much longer. 

He took note of your lack of concern. He found it odd, but didn’t think on it much. You were close with Subaru, but maybe not as close as he thought. He hated how the thought of the two of you not being as close planted a seed of hope in his heart. Still, wasn’t concern a normal reaction to a friend being ill?

Haku let it go. They’d be out of here soon, anyway. 

Time seems to crawl by and speed up at the same time, the chaotic haze of the party warping his perception of time. Before he knows it, he’s on his second drink, even after internally swearing he wouldn’t overindulge. And before he knows it, he’s lost count of how many times he’s glanced your way, each time holding your gaze longer than the last. His pining was ridiculous. He felt like a teenager. And the drink in his hand was only a reminder of his low self-control, further shaming him. He sighs and places it down on the table in front of the couch, promptly leaning back in his seat. Once he falsely settles in, his finds his eyes drifting to you again. He quickly snaps his gaze away, but not before he spots Subaru’s quivering figure out of the corner of his eye. He turns to him again, concern once again etching itself into his expression. 

Subaru was trembling now, slouching just slightly, which was unlike him. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe normally, and he was sweating more now, more of his bangs stuck to his forehead. Instead of the modest blush pink his face had been before, he was now a bright red, color spreading from his cheeks to his ears and even to his neck. Alright, this was too much. Even Haku knew Subaru was pushing himself too far. He sat upright and gently placed a hand on Subaru’s back, to which he flinched again. Haku’s concern quickly turned to worry, and his hand moved to Subaru’s shoulder instead, leaning closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Hey, Subaru.” Subaru turned to him, still heaving and blinking at him blearily. “...We should go.” Subaru promptly shook his head, despite his body still trembling. The movement alerted Zenji yet again, who turned to Subaru, noticing his trembling form.

“My goodness, look at you!” Zenji grabbed Subaru’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Are you well? Do we need to take you to Montkranken?” Haku sighed as Subaru shook his head again, stubborn as a mule on this.

“N-No, I swear I’m fine, truly.” His voice shook audibly. Haku had half a mind to take him to Montkranken by force, but knew that no good would come of making Subaru any more uncomfortable. 

Zenji hesitantly let go of Subaru’s face, staring at him dubiously. He carefully inspected him, checking his complexion and forehead. As Zenji flitted back and forth around Subaru, Haku found his gaze once again slipping towards you. This time he didn’t stop it, deciding to let it go so he could hold your gaze at least once more before he shifted his full focus to Subaru. However, he notices you aren’t looking at Subaru, or Zenji, or him. You’re staring off to the left, as though watching the people of the party. He’s confused. Why are you so nonchalant about this? Even before, no concern was on your face, mere interest. And now, it’s like you couldn’t care less. It didn’t seem quite like you not to care about one of your friends. It was quite confusing and frustrating, watching you act so nonchalantly, hardly noticing Subaru’s ailment. But, whatever. Maybe you were just distracted. As he turns his gaze back to Subaru, about to gently encourage him to stand so they could leave, he notices your hand moving out of the corner of his eye. Your hand disappears into your pocket and shifts a bit more. Simultaneously, Subaru lurches forward, grunting. His whole body was trembling now, and his fingers dug into his arms as he desperately tried to keep it together. Zenji immediately leans over, placing a hand on Subaru’s back. Haku feels a rush of panic and leans towards him. “Subaru! What’s—”

Haku stops in his tracks. On the side of Subaru’s neck, facing Haku, there were small red and purple bruises. For a moment, Haku’s confused. What are those markings on the side of his neck? And what’s got him so—

Out of nowhere, something clicks. 

As Zenji continues fussing over Subaru, Haku slowly lifts his gaze to you. He finds your gaze boring straight into him. A shock runs down his spine. 

No. No way.

Haku watches as you smirk at him and you pull something out of your pocket, purposely angling the object so only he could see it. It is something very closely resembling a remote. His eyes flick between the remote and your face, your eyes still holding him captive. He tears his gaze away from you and the remote, and turns to Subaru’s trembling form, Zenji fussing over him. He turns back to you, observing the wicked smile on your face. This can’t be real, right?

He watches as your smirk widens, and you press a button on the remote, slipping it back into your pocket. 

Subaru groans, crumpling further forward, immediately pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle his voice. Haku studies him carefully, watching his expression. Subaru’s eyes roll back just once and the corner of his lips turn upwards in a smile, peeking behind his palm pressed tight against his mouth. 

Oh. Oh god.

Something akin to heat pools in Haku’s lower abdomen. He finds himself gripping the cushion of the sofa he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white. Haku swallows thickly, and jerks his gaze back up to you, finding your gaze boring straight into him once again. Subaru’s muffled grunts grow louder, and now that he knows it’s out of pleasure and not pain, Haku feels the urge to squirm. He feels warm all of a sudden, his own body beginning to tremble with nerves and heat. His lips part as he breathes heavily, his gaze flickering from you, to your pocket, to Subaru, and back to you. Maybe it was a bad idea to have so much alcohol. Your gaze, the knowledge of what was really going on, and Subaru’s grunts—which were quickly evolving into moans, further confusing Zenji—all made quite a potent concoction, and with the alcohol running through his system, it really only served to shame him further yet again. 

Shame is all he can think about… Even as a tent forms in his pants.

a/n: YIPPEE!!!!!!! i finished at long last

also here have this fuckass meme i made thinkging abt all the fics im writing atm:

i guess i have a niche. my roommate literally asked me as i was telling her abt this fic "is it gonna be cuckold" and i was like "WHATEKSLSJK?!?!?!??!" and then i realized. i write a lot of these fics and call them all self-indulgent. is something wrong with me?

anyways wrapping this up!!!!!!! note that i appreciate likes, reblogs, and comments!!! please, tell me all about how much you enjoyed my work, if you did!!!! i really like when people tell me they loved it bc it encourages me 2 keep going ahhhh!!! until next time, readers!!!!!

[sweetgrimm]

So, um, @naffeclipse, @chaotikanvas I know that it's technically mermay, but can we make an exception for mothmay? This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I'm finally feeling good enough about it to throw it out here. Needless to say that you guys really inspired me with your discussions and the brainrot CONSUMED ME. So here's a little mothman y/n and cryptid Eclipse bit as a result.

Moonlight dances through the leaves, casting shadows across the forest floor as you bounce from tree limb to tree limb. The night is quiet aside from the chorus of evening bugs. That’s normal. Nothing ever happens in these woods. Not since you’ve been here. Nope. Nothing ever changes. Well, excluding the occasional stray pet, but those never come this deep in the woods.

Doesn’t matter. You pause in your travels to spy a rabbit rustling through leaf litter. Its ears swivel in constant surveillance. It’s risky for such a small critter to be out so late, and it’s an opportunity you can’t pass up. Not this late in the season.

It freezes, turning its head towards some unseen threat before scampering away. Oh well. You’re not too desperate.

Resuming your travel, you begin to glide between the larger trees. The brisk wind whispers past your wings with a comfortable normalcy. Everything is just like it’s supposed to be.

Until…

The rustling of leaves much too large to be a rabbit and much too loud to be a deer causes you to pause. Perhaps a human. But it’s very dark. And cold. Humans don’t like either of those. Perhaps your curiosity will be the death of you one day.

You follow the noise, landing on an old oak as a silhouette emerges. It’s… almost human-like, but not quite. It travels through the leaves slowly, methodically, like it’s looking for something. Roosting down on the limb, you watch. It steps around roots and other debris, trying to move with a sense of stealth. It moves away from you, head swiveling back and forth.

Ghostly white eyes meet yours. Unease taints your mood, but the light is far more alluring.

“Hello!” You call out. “Hello there!”

The eyes tilt and the silhouette comes closer. It’s not a human. Its face it too round, a perfect circle. Those beautiful eyes are much too large. Plus, humans aren’t metal. That’s one thing you know for sure. But... this metal thing looks so sad. Its clothes hang pitifully, scorched and melted. A burned ratty nightcap sits atop its round head.

“Are you…okay?” you ask the glowing eyes.

It recoils slightly.

“Are you lost? Oh- I can help you! I know these woods like the back of my hand. I can show you the way out,” you say proudly, flaring your wings.

The red glow of your own eyes illuminates the stiff grinning crescent moon of a face. The scorched material is static as it speaks. “You would help us?”

“Of course!” You chirp. “I’ve got nothing better to do and you look like you could use a helping hand. I mean- no offense, but you look like you’ve been through it.”

The machine rubs a finger across its soot-covered chest. “Perhaps.” Its glowing eyes scrutinize you for a moment. “We would be grateful, but is it not a bit late for you to be out?”

You turn to the horizon and stifle a gasp. Whisps of pink dot the edges of the sky, promising the sun’s return. Right. You’ve spent most the night searching for more materials fortifying your nest for the winter.

“It’s fine. It’s not too far,” you say, masking your hesitation. Humans follow the daylight. Humans bring hunters.

“It’s not safe to travel in the daytime,” it echoes your inner concerns. “It will be easier to travel at night.”

“I mean, you’re welcome to spend the day at my nest,” you offer. You’ve never had any welcome visitors, but that doesn’t mean you’re not open to the idea. “I’ll show you the way.”

Stretching your legs, you flap your wings and join your newfound companion on the ground. And- oh goodness. The strange machine steps back and cranes its spindly neck to meet your eyes again. The poor thing barely reaches your chest. Warmth tints your cheeks as you process how oddly cute this thing is. And those eyes. Sheesh, you’re getting carried away with yourself.

Before you can do something to embarrass yourself, you spin around and start walking in the direction of your self-proclaimed home. “This way.”

A moon-cast shadow falls on your feet as the strange metal thing matches your pace. You glance back. It walks with its arms limply at its sides, its head cocks to the side in response to your staring.

“Sorry.” You turn your gaze away sharply. “I like lights- all my kind do. Kind of a given, you know? And your eyes are just so pretty with how they glow! Oh, most light from humans are so harsh, but your eyes are soft and gentle. I could look at them all night.”

It takes you a moment for your words to come back to you and even longer to notice that your companion has paused. Surely your cheeks are as red as your eyes by the fierceness of your blush. Your wings wrap around your shoulders and waist as if that would make you disappear. To say you’re embarrassed is an understatement.

“I’m so sorry,” you say after fumbling around for several moments. “I never have anyone to talk to. I guess I get carried away…”

Unbeknownst to you, the demon within the vessel writhes in confusion (and a healthy dose of fluster but they’re ignoring that). Your behavior has left them baffled. How do you not see what they are? Do you just not care? “It’s alright.”

Your nervous rambling pauses. A hesitant smile spreads across your still flush face.  “I…I meant what I said though,” you laugh nervously. “Your eyes are pretty.”

The demon stands silent for another moment. “Thank you.”

This time, your smile is bright with excitement. Your wings flare out and in the blink of an eye, you’re gliding through the tree tops, calling for him to follow.

And they do. The sound of your thrilled heartbeat lures them deeper into the quiet forest.

[naffeclipse]

I absolutely adore every AU you come up with, but I was actually curious if you had already or were considering writing a traditional DCAxReader? Hopefully I can kick this art block soon because there is so much fanart I want to draw of your stories :) Hope your week is going well! (besides the roof disaster ^^;;;)

On another note... AUs are my brainrot and I keep thinking about that post about the large bed... and spoopy ghosts. Clipgeist? No running away from something that can follow you to the ends of the Earth. Poor Y/Ns just can't catch a break lol

I have a few canon stories with the DCA x Reader on my Ao3 but nothing as grand or long as my AUs! I do have a 'canon' story plotted but I don't know when I'll write it. Hopefully one day!

Ah, that's so exciting! I hope you can chisel that art block down hehe 

It's going good (aside from the roof ;-;) I have this week of school before we go on break for Thanksgiving and it can't come soon enough!

Shaking your hand so hard rn!! I love AUs! And a spooky ghost one? Oh ho, I've always wanted to write a domestic monster scenario!

Perhaps Y/N moves into an old, old house with steep roofs, pointed arches above the windows and doors, and a lovely porch. It's two and a half stories tall (the half story is attic space under the roof rafters) with a four-story central spired tower! All dark wood and even darker interiors. You can't desire if it's Dracula's castle or a fairytale home for the happily ever-after-ed prince and princess. It's even got a secret underground tunnel! What more do you need when flipping a home? You love restoration and you intend to keep all its gothic charm while updating it to be, well, livable.

It's also incredibly cheap! Like, stupid cheap, for something that should be incredibly pricey for its prestige style and historical value. Not that you've ever looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even you have second thoughts before ultimately snatching up the house key.

The first night is always unsettling—maybe you hear a voice whisper in your ear despite it being dead silent and there's not a soul for miles, but you'll brush that off as getting spooked by old ghost stories your brain conjures up within the ornate decorated rooms.

From there, things get stranger and stranger still. Your paintbrush is moved and you know you didn't set it there because of the wet paint dripping onto the floor. The electricity is ever fickle, turning off at the most opportune moments during the night, like when you swear you saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway, all thin and scraggly with a ghostly smile and an inhuman head framed with wavering energy that almost seems to glow like embers in the dark!

Still, you continue your repairs and restorations, sometimes softly talking to yourself out loud and talking to the house like it's a wounded animal you intend to restore back to its fittest with all the love you can pour out of your heart. Places need love, too.

The most obnoxious thing is that you can't access the tower—the door is always locked, and no matter what key you try, it refuses to budge. You don't dare risk causing damage by prying it open, but you swear you'll get into that tower one day. There's got to be treasure inside with how mysteriously it stands, just out of your reach. Though, you've mostly put it aside for now. Whenever you jingle keys in the lock, you swear you hear a voice grow angry with you, and the hallway becomes so cold you can see your breath.

So, yeah, you're saving that for later.

The pivotal moment of you even considering a haunting is one night when you find yourself overwhelmed and stressed from the ever-growing list of chores and how everything is falling apart faster than you can fix it. You dissolve on the living room floor into thick tears. You're usually so put together, even when alone. You hate crying. There's no one to hold you together except yourself, so why fall apart in the first place?

Your little moment of getting it out is interrupted when a quilt falls over your shoulders. A soft, heavy quilt of midnight skies and dotted pale blue stars that was never in this room.

You leap to your feet, quilt falling away, and call out in classic horror victim fashion, "Who's there?" but no one answers. In frozen terror, you stare at the room, expecting something, anything to jump out or scream at you, but it's so, so quiet. All is still, like apologetic comfort.

That couldn't have happened. No draft, no forgetfulness could explain how a quilt was draped over you as if by a concerned friend.

You stare at the quilt and decide that you've had a long day. You go to your room, unable to relax even once you're under the covers, feeling something cold and misty above your bed.

When you wake in the morning, that starry quilt is draped over your lying form. You did not put it there.

Something or someone else tucked it around you.

[starry-bi-sky]

tick tock

Highkey dedicating this to @watercolour-carnations bc they sent me an ask about my 'danny is thomas wayne' au and singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot for it. Apparently the quickest way to a starry's heart is through their ask box

Now posted on ao3 under the name 'dniwer eht kcolc'!

In hindsight, hosting a science exhibit was probably not the best idea that Bruce has ever. This wasn't even one of Bruce's galas and, yet he was still attending because it gave him the opportunity to scope out any potential rogues (or henchmen).

Damian was by his side, and Tim was on the other side of the room, inspecting some of the other inventions under the prospect of gaining new hires for R&D at WE. Something that was not entirely false. Bruce could always use new, bright minds working to make Gotham a better place.

He was, particularly, eyeing up one moderately-sized invention that a woman with cutting blue eyes and stark white hair had covered with a white sheet. An interesting choice when everyone else had already revealed their own inventions. Drifting closer with Damian, he smiles charmingly at the scientist when they lock eyes.

"And what is this interesting contraption?" He asks, looking over the sheet as if it was the invention itself and not what was underneath.

The woman curled purple-painted fingers around the sheet, yanking it down to reveal a machine that looks like a mix of a jukebox and a grandfather clock. A long wire was attached to it, and a strange, blinking, circlet-like device connected on the other end.

Bruce's brows rose considerably, and he could sense Damian's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"This is my Holographic Memory Machine -- the name is still a work in progress -- it's a memory machine meant to allow anyone to relive their memories right in front of them, even the ones they don't remember." The woman says with a smile, her name card reads 'Dr. Casey W. Kairos'. He's never heard of her before. An out-of-townie, perhaps?

"Interesting." Bruce's hands fold behind his back and he looks down at his disinterested son, and then back up to Dr. Kairos. It sounded harmless, but even a pencil could be harmless until enough force was put into it. "How does that work?"

Dr. Kairos walks over and holds up the strange circlet device, "The user wears this headband. It scans their brainwaves and then plays a memory of their choice right in front of them like a hologram, including any voices that came with it." She explains, showing it off to Bruce and Damian. "Would either of you like to try it? The HMM has been tested and it is completely safe."

Damian scoffs and turns to him, "This is a waste of time, father," He says, "let's move on."

"Oh, don't be like that, Dames." Bruce smiles genially, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it. It reminds him of when his father used to do the exact same thing, and he turns to Dr. Kairos. "I can try it, Doctor."

Kairos smiles widely, looking incredibly pleased. "Come stand here then, Mr. Wayne. I can get the HMM up and working." She gestures to a spot on the floor within the circlet's range, and Bruce goes and does as told.

"Standing around and looking pretty is my specialty, Doctor Kairos." He jokes as she gets the device situated on his head. It sits on his forehead snugly, and tucks behind his ears. Kairos snorts and turns to get the machine activated.

"Father." Damian says, indignant and scowling. His arms crossed over his chest petulantly. Bruce chuckles at him.

"The Doctor said it was perfectly safe, Damian." He admonishes lightly, wagging a finger at him. "I trust the good lady to know what she's doing." Not really, but he'd rather test it out on himself if it was unsafe.

Thirty seconds passed with Dr. Kairos working on flicking on the HMM, and when it came alive it came with a low hum and a distinct, ticking like noise. "Ah, there we go." She hums, stepping away. "It's up and working, Mister Wayne. Just think of a memory and let the HMM do the rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bruce nods at her, and then tries to think of what to let the machine show. Nothing that would give away his identity as Batman, of course not. Nothing incriminating.

He looks to Damian, who still looked very unhappy with him. Perhaps a memory of one of his boys in the manor? Or a Brucie Wayne moment that everyone's seen. His brows furrow in thought. One of his speeches?

...No. No, he has an idea.

Immediately, the HMM begins to hum louder, the ticking drowned out by the sound of its fans kicking in. It starts drawing the attention of the other ongoers, and Damian steps to Bruce's side as a crowd begins to form.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing?"

"Is it safe?"

Hushed whispers scatter around them as more and more people abandon the other stalls in favor of seeing whatever spectacle was happening. Tim appears as well, pushing his way through the crowd and situating himself by Damian and Bruce.

"What's going on?" He whispers with a frown, looking between Bruce and Damian.

Damian hmphs, "Father is trying out this woman's 'Memory Machine'."

Just when Bruce is starting to think the machine doesn't work, he hears a sound that silences the spectators. A piano note. A singular note, followed by another, and another. Right before Bruce's eyes, the air shimmers, and a projection of his father sitting at the grand piano appears before him.

His breath hitches in his throat. He remembers this. He remembers this piece. It was father's favorite.

Damian and Tim are stiff at his side, and Bruce hears the crowd gasp.

There, sitting on the floor at the bench, is Bruce himself at six years old. He's resting his arms on it, and leaning his head on his arms with a look of pure adoration -- did he really look like that? -- aimed at his father.

There's no talking between them, a content silence as Thomas Wayne fills the air with his piano playing. That is-- until he stops midway through the piece, fingers stopping the keys with a abrupt jerk.

Thomas laughs, quiet and full of love, and little Bruce picks his head up with an affronted frown. "Why'd you stop? I like listening to you play."

"I know you do." Thomas says, his voice is as soothing as Bruce remembers it to be. The memory twists to look at little Bruce with a blinding smile, as if he was looking at his whole world. It's the first time in decades that Bruce has seen his father smiling like-- like that. His eyes involuntarily sting.

"But how can you hear so well when you're all the way down there?" Thomas shifts, and pats an open space on the bench. "Come sit up here, Boo. I can teach you to play."

(Thomas Wayne was always fond of pet names, he had plenty of them for Bruce, and he used them at every opportunity.)

Little Bruce perks up, "Really?" He grins, and then clambers into the bench. His father's arms wrap around him.

The voices fade as the memory slowly begins to collapse, and Bruce feels a spike of panic in his heart before the memory is replaced by another one.

He's younger, probably four years old, being sprayed down by a hose by his father. Little Bruce is squealing with laughter, trying to swat the water away like a fly, and his clothes are drenched.

Thomas is laughing as well, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he just came home from a business meeting. Bruce always thought he was old when he was little. But at four years old, Thomas Wayne is only a little over twenty. Barely an adult. He is twenty-four when he dies. He was so young.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Little Bruce squeals, trying to run out of the line of fire, but Thomas Wayne has a sharp eye, and the hose in his hands follow Bruce no matter where he goes.

Until finally Thomas drops the hose and runs towards Bruce, who is trying to recover from being sprayed down with ice cold water. Thomas reaches him before he has time to move, and scoops him up in his arms.

He is laughing loudly and boisterously, spinning them both around as Bruce clings to him for dear life, laughing with him. The memory fades away, and Bruce feels like there are hands around his throat trying to choke him.

A new one shows up, one he doesn't remember at all. His father is younger than before, a teenager, and he's holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, hunched over it like a shield.

Someone, a girl with gothic attire, peers over his shoulder. "Gosh, Tom, a baby? That's a lot of responsibility." She says, dark-lipstick lips painted downwards in a frown. "And right after you've disowned your parents too?"

Another boy looks around Thomas with a similar frown and an uncertain look, "Yeah man, I'm with Sam on this one -- for once. You don't even have anywhere to live."

Thomas doesn't look like he's even paying attention, utterly smitten with the baby -- its himself, Bruce realizes -- he's cradling. "Look at him though, guys," he breathes, "he's so tiny. Have you seen his little watercolor eyes?"

(Watercolor eyes. Bruce had long since forgotten about that nickname his father gave him. hearing him say it is like a punch to his stomach.)

"You named him Bruce?"

Bruce huffs to himself, an involuntary smile twitching at his mouth as the memory dips again and cycles through another memory he recognizes.

The memories it shows are sporadic, with no chronological order to them other than each and every one is a happy one.

Bruce playing piano with his father.

Bruce stargazing with his father.

Bruce being carried on his father's shoulders.

Bruce getting ready for a gala with his father.

Bruce in the kitchen helping his dad make breakfast (there's pancake flour smeared on his cheek).

Bruce making a snowman with his father.

An apology between Bruce and his father in the form of a piano duet.

There are even a few memories he doesn't remember. Some of them are when he's old enough to, but many are when he's a baby. Some are before his father was adopted by the Waynes, when the only thing on their backs was a raggedy backpack and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bruce's baby blanket. And some are after, where he's sitting in an antique rocking chair bottle feeding Bruce with a look of sheer adoration on his face.

That look never seems to go away, ever, in any of the memories.

Finally, the HMM settles on a final memory, one that makes Bruce's blood run cold and snaps him out of his nostalgic revelry. His father is getting ready in his room, and Bruce comes barreling in with his own suit-and-tie.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" He chants, running to Thomas, who whirls around and picks him up seamlessly. They spin twice before Thomas settles in front of the mirror, Bruce on his hip as he adjusts his tie with one hand.

"Yes, boo?" Thomas grins, wide-splitting with his shock-blue eyes looking at Bruce in the reflection. He and Bruce have the same eyes. It's shocking how much they look like each other, now that Bruce was older.

Little Bruce makes a dramatic face, a look that only lasts a few seconds before he remembers his excitement. He wiggles in Thomas' arms, "You gotta hurry up! Or we'll be late to the movie!"

Bruce's fingers dig into his palm, and he can vaguely feel his sons' looking at him. There's a feeling of impending doom square in the center of his lungs, and he forces himself to look on.

Thomas laughs, and nuzzles Bruce's cheek. "The movie isn't going anywhere, chum, I promise." He says, before setting him down. Little Bruce pouts, his lower lip sticking out. "I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Can you help me with my tie then?" Bruce asks, and looks at his own, sloppily done tie around his neck. "I can never get it right."

And, of course, Thomas Wayne kneels down to redo it. He always did everything Bruce asked or wanted. He measures it, loops it, and then knots the tie perfectly.

"There." He says, and smoothes out Bruce's little jacket, smiling in adoration. "Now go play, I'll call you when it's time to go."

And Bruce does just that, running out of the room with a yell of, "You better promise!"

"I promise!" Thomas yells back, laughing at his son as he turns back to the mirror.

The memory shimmers, and changes to as they're leaving. And then and there does Bruce call it quits. His eyes are glistening, his tears nearly blinding him with the swelling, overwhelming grief in his heart. He looks away, and tries to find Doctor Kairos.

(He doesn't see her switch something on the side of the machine. There is no noticeable difference in the machine, but on the inside a time rune starts to glow.)

"I think I'm done here, Doctor." He says once he can find his voice without it shaking. He can't hide the full crack and tremble laying beneath it, but at least he doesn't cry. He's almost forgotten that he had a silent audience.

Doctor Kairos nods and steps forward, reaching for the headband. "The memories should cut off once I take this off, Mister Wayne." She says, and fiddles with it for a moment. Behind her, the memory of himself and his father are walking outside. "I hope that wasn't too much for you?"

(The ticking of the machine grows louder, and the memory glitches.)

"No, no." Bruce assures with a smile that wasn't all Brucie Wayne yet. He looks down when he feels Damian's hand curl around his, and his son leans into his side. His smile softens, and he presses Damian closer. His other arm finds itself over Tim's shoulders as well, pressing him to his side.

"It was fine. Actually, it was an honor to be the first to try out your memory machine. I'm sure it will help many people." He tells her. She smiles slyly, and slides the headband off his head.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Mister Wayne." Doctor Kairos places the headband onto the table. The memory hasn't disappeared, Bruce notes with a furrow of his brows. And the audio has muffled slightly.

"I thought you said that the memory would cut off when the headband was off?" He asks. Kairos looks at him, and then behind her at the memory. She frowns.

"It should have--"

Little Bruce suddenly frowns, and looks away from Thomas. "Do you hear that?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't remember this." That wasn't in his memory. They just went straight to Monarch Theater without any issue.

Thomas looks down at his son, "What noise?" He asks, squeezing Bruce's hand. His head cranes, as if trying to hear whatever noise Bruce was hearing.

"That ticking sound." Bruce's frown deepens, "It sounds like your clock, dad."

Thomas' immediately frowns, looking so strikingly like Bruce that he marvels for a moment. He looks around as well. "...You're right. I hear it too." He steps a little closer to Bruce, his hand tightening around his.

A sense of unease fills Bruce's lungs. "What's going on?" He asks, taking a step away from the memory. This was different. This isn't his memory.

"I'm not sure." Doctor Kairos says, and her unsurety sounds so practiced and calm that Bruce's suspicion levels to her immediately. His boys look at her too with the same unease. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She strides around the memory to the side of the machine just as a gold symbol appears on the ground. It looks like a giant roman clock, and a loud, clunky ticking fills the room.

The memories see it too, and Bruce's heart drops to his feet as he and the rest of the crowd back away from it. "Dad, what is that?!" Little Bruce exclaims, a look of fear morphing across his face as he suddenly clings to his dad's leg.

Thomas looks pale, looking at his feet and gripping little Bruce to him protectively. "I don't-- I don't know, Bruce."

(A memory that Bruce doesn’t have is his father arguing with a man named Clockwork. He does not see the man named Clockwork all but beg Thomas not to go out tonight.)

("Does something happen to Bruce?" His father asks the ghost.)

("No," the man says, "but--")

("But nothing, Clockwork." Thomas, once Danny, says firmly. "My son has been looking forward to this all week. I'm not going to crush his hopes by changing my mind last minute.")

("Thomas, please.")

("Look, if something happens tonight, I will handle it, okay?" Thomas assures him, a hand atop Clockwork's shoulder with a small smile. "I promise.")

(And then he leaves, Clockwork defeated in his wake.)

(Clockwork has seen this boy grow up from the shadows, and now he can do nothing to stop his fate like he once did before.)

The strange, clock-like circle, something intrinsically magic, begins to glow. The minute and hour hands tick faster and faster. Little Bruce holds onto his father like a lifeline, and Thomas Wayne crouches down to hold his son tighter, protectively.

Bruce Wayne turns away just as the light grows blinding, tucking Tim and Damian into his chest like a human shield. There is yelling and screams as the crowd tries to stampede away from it.

Bruce has no idea what this light will do, but he'd rather die than let his sons get hurt.

The light burns his eyelids even when he isn't facing it. And when it dies without even a burn across his back, Bruce slowly unfurls. His hands stay on his sons' shoulders, keeping them close to him, and he peers over his shoulder.

There on his knees, is Thomas Wayne, curled protectively around eight year old Bruce Wayne, much like Bruce had been. Bruce holds his breath, and his sons slowly unfurl themselves as well and peer around him.

Thomas Wayne is frozen in place for one second, two seconds, three. And then he begins to move. First, the tension drains out of his shoulders, and his head jerks, as if surprised that nothing has happened.

He looks up, his eyes open, and he and Bruce make eye contact. Bruce cannot breathe, and he cannot believe the sight before him. It's just the memory machine breaking. (Doctor C.W Kairos is nowhere to be found.)

And then recognition flickers in his father's face as his panting slows and quiets. His head tilts to the side like a fawn's, a familiar wrinkle appearing before his brows.

"Bruce?"

[fatuismooches]

HIII it's 🐓!!!! :3 I saw u needed ideas so I decided to share some of my brainrot with u!!!!! So here me out.... reader confessing to akademiya dottore during valentines day!!!!!!!

zandik so focused on his studies he doesn't pay any attention to the upcoming holiday (he doesn't care about it anyway, he's never gotten anything)

meanwhile reader is working their ass off to make him the most scrumptious chocolates ever, they're also killing their wallet by buying him a pretty bouquet of flowers :3

he notices their subtle stress and uneasiness but maybe doesn't comment on it

when the day comes reader, who is unusually nervous, asks him to meet them at the giant ruin guard in the forest because they want to examine and explore it (he is excited by this)

they spend the day exploring and then when it's almost night time and they're leaving reader shyly confesses to him and gives him the chocolates n flowers ... 🥺

I love them sm I am ill....

- 🐓anon

Perhaps it was horribly cliche to confess on Valentine's Day. But perhaps that was also why it was the best - Zandik would never see it coming, not when he didn't care the slightest for the holiday. He always scoffed in disdain at the cringey display of supposed love and affection, much preferring to distance himself away from such acts. So it also may be dumb to confess on a day that he didn't even like, but, maybe you could change that too?

You were... 94.67% sure Zandik liked you back, so your plan had a pretty good chance of succeeding. You were just very nervous, of course. Who wouldn't be nervous about confessing, much less to a man like Zandik? He was so... not the kind of guy for love. But you loved him anyway. You had gone out of your way to make sweets, which you knew he'd love even if he denied it. (But was it odd to give him flowers? You hoped not. You wonder if he'd notice the kind of flowers you specifically picked out. He was pretty observant, right? But maybe not in matters of the heart...)

When you ask Zandik to explore with you, naturally he accepts not only for knowledge purposes but he can also get away from the bumbling lovesick fools in the Akademiya. Yes, he can be with someone with an impeccable brain, who never lets him down and matches his skills, who also happens to have a pretty face and body... eyes that soften when they look at him... and gentle touches and a sickeningly sweet voice he says he despises... Well- dismissing those factors, you are an irreplaceable assistant above all else. He just has to ignore those... distracting features of yours.

Your uncharacteristic nervousness would immediately make Zandik know something is up, and he would just demand that you tell him already so the whole matter can be resolved and wrapped up. He doesn't like it when your mind is occupied with other things, it hinders progress (he doesn't like seeing you bothered and upset.) The scholar is ranting about all of this when all of a sudden you push the gifts into his lap with your face turned, too embarrassed to face his reaction. Needless to say, it's one of the very few times you've managed to make him speechless.

He finishes the chocolates the same night while you sleep with his shirt on.

[catcze]

here me out.. so like i was scrolling a pinterest and i found this one song on spotify called “cigarettes out the window x dangerously yours” and the first thing i thought about is neuvillette!! LIKE THE BRAINROTS IN MY HEAD RN. reader and him are in his office 😱

OH OH OH OH OH OKAY HOLD ON HOL D ONNNN 👀👀👀👀 The way i opened YT so fast!??! HASKJDNA but my GOD do i see what u mean anon—

I'm getting vibes of reader who is, perhaps, from the fatui? or from some other hostile organization (idk im workign on it 💔) and they get assigned to be a double agent at the Palais Mermonia and acquire sensitive information for the organization they work for. Initially, they weren't supposed to do anything complicated— they certainly weren't even supposed to ever cross paths with the chief justice of Fontaine. But what do you know, Neuvillette falls for you first and invites you out to a meal, and you can't necessarily refuse.

Your superiors are delighted by the change in plans— if you get closer to the chief justice, you could easily get your hands on all sorts of information! So, although you're hesitant, you're forced to go along with getting closer to Neuvillette. But over time, you find that he's much, much more than most people think he is. He's more caring and gentle that most realize, and he's so sweet. Gods, he is so sweet. The way he cares for every single melusine is adorable. The way he enthusiastically encourages you to try water that he imported from gods-knows-where, just because he says that it taste fresh and clear like no other. And the way his eyes shine when you take a sip and tell him that he's right, that it's sp distinct, and he smiles, and you don't have the heart to tell him that in truth, it just tastes like water to you.

Before you know it, you're actually falling for Neuvillette. Not for the mission, not for the files. You're genuinely becoming head over heels for him. You can't tell your superiors this— you know you'd be pulled out and disposed of immediately now that you're compromised, but you can't go along with deceiving Neuvillette anymore. But if you tell him... no doubt he'd turn you away, like the double-crosser you are.

But you still find yourself in front of his office anyway, a heavy hand and a heavier heart knocking on his doors.

"Come in," he says.

And it's hard. Gods, it's so hard to come clean to him. You stutter and you just can't seem to spit out the words, so Neuvillette decides to talk first. He pulls something out of a drawer and sets it on his desk, opening its contents for you to see. And you gasp, because these are the files that you had been told were the highest priority. If you ever got your hands on them, you were to risk your life to get them back to your organization.

"Why are you showing me this?" You ask him, voice quiet, brow furrowed. Your hand reaches out to touch the papers, but you hesitate. Neuvillette just watches you, smiling mysteriously.

"Because you have my wholehearted trust," is all he says, and it's enough to break you.

The tears come flowing faster than you can help them. There's a lump in your throat, making it hard to breathe. Even as you splutter out the words, the confessions to why you're here, why you got close to him, and everything else in between, Neuvillette listens patiently. He doesn't yell, doesn't glare or curse you out. He doesn't shout for guards to come and toss you into the darkest pits of Meropide. Instead, he's calm.

"I know," he says as a means of explanation, and you still. His hand reaches across the desk, holding yours gently. "Since the very first day we met, when you stood beside me drenched in rain on the balcony, I've known. And my heart is yours anyway."

You shake your head, still crying quietly. "I will betray you. If not, I will be killed."

Neuvillette's hand squeezes yours. "Do you think so little of me that I would allow any harm to befall you, my love?"

"I think the world of you," you argue, and he smiles.

"There is no safer place for you than by my side. Should there be any threat to your life, I would use every ounce of my power to dispose of it, " Neuvillette vows. "Your organization has made a great many mistakes, but the greatest of them all has been sending you to me, and expecting me to ever let harm befall you."

HAJSDSAJKL LISTEN the monologue in the clip that i found (hopefully we're talking abt the same mashup ?!?!?) was longer + had more drama but OUGH my brain craves soft sweet tender romance without too much drama and life-or-death haksdkajs

[m3gumix]

Lovesick ; Chainsaw man

Characters : Power , Angel Devil , Beam Warnings : NOT PROOFREAD. masc pronouns for reader in Power's part , gender neutral / non-binary pronouns for Angel Devil and Beam. Possibly ooc for everyone- [ uh the Beam & Power one were made specifically for @rayuki and someone else ..& I asked for them to give me scenarios with their favs while I made the Angel Devil one for myself- ] Synopsis : Them falling inlove with the reader and/or love at first sight. Basically just as the title says..Lovesick Request[s] : #1 ; Power : "Power seeing someone outside of Aki's apartment while home alone and gets bored so she says hi to them" #2 ; Beam : "Romantic scenario let’sss seeee uhhhhh he wants to hold ur hand but is a little too nervous so he tries to find ways to let you know he wants too. Or he tries to find ways to build up courage to ask you- either is fine." A/n : Hello loves! I'm finally writing again! This time for chainsaw man because the anime was hype and I'm having a csm brainrot. I'm taking Chainsaw man requests!! NO NSFW. Other than that enjoy <33

Denji and Aki left power to watch over the apartment. Why? Who knows, perhaps they couldn't trust her enough with this mission. "But then why bring Denji?" She's repeated that sentence in her head over a million times. Before they even left Aki had told her to not go anywhere and to not open the door for anyone, would she listen? Probably not. But she hasn't done anything yet...surprisingly, she's just been sitting with Meowy while rolling on the floor. "Can you believe them Meowy! How rude of them to leave me here by myself- I should've just went anyway! As a matter of fact- I will! They can't tell me what to do!" She stood up with a huff as she put on her shoes and began stomping to the door, slamming it open she kept that pout on her face til she noticed a male leaning on the railing infront of Aki's apartment. He had the uniform on, what was he doing here? Was he sent to watch over Power? "That's ridiculous! I can watch over myself!" "You! Why are you here! Who are you- Did Aki send you to come watch me! Well I can watch myself I'll have you know-" She yelled at y/n as he just turned around, a confused look on his face. He chuckled at the confusion washed over Power's face "I'm just here to get some fresh air..no need to be so angry." She slowly put her arm down and blankly stared at the male. "If you're not busy, would you like to stay with me for a bit?" Trying to break the silence , Y/n asked Power a simple question that he hoped she would respond too. She narrowed her eyes at him and thought about his offer. "Hmm...Fine. I suppose I could spend my time with you, human." She proudly smiled and she walked towards the male. The two of them continued having a conversation about random things, just to pass time, it was mainly Power talking about anything and everything but they enjoyed each other's company. These conversations went from minutes then quickly to hours long. But sadly it had to end when Y/n got called for a job. "Ah- sorry..I gotta go..I got called in. Wait- I never got your name?" Power stopped her ranting and stood proudly with her hands on her hips. "The name's Power! Be happy that I chose to waste away my time with you, Human!" Y/n only stared at her before smiling and tucking away some of her hair behind her ears, "Hello Power..the name's y/n." Power's eyes went wide as she stared back at him as he parted his hand away from her and began walking away. She felt something completely new- something she's never felt ever, it was like....this warm feeling in her cheeks. Was it getting hot in here? Why does it suddenly feel like her face is burning- Oh silly Power, you're inlove!

"It's so hot...can we go get another icecream before working again." The red headed devil slowly followed behind you while yawning. You kept your eyes ahead.. ignoring any sighing and groaning the small male let out. "As much as I'd really love too, Aki would kill us if we did." You reasoned with Angel, continuing to go to your location. "How about when we're done I'll get you some more, 'kay?" He looked up at the sky in thought, silently pondering your offer for a few minutes before finally responding. "You promise?" "I promise." The both of you continued to walk in silence before you heard Angel's groaning again. "Something's in my eye...I can't get it out.." Turning around to see what he was complaining about , you noticed his eyes seemed to be watering a bit. You sighed as you pulled out a tissue from your pocket and leaned a bit closer to his face. "There..all done. Your eyelashes are pretty long, that's probably what was in your eye." He stared at you with his usual blank face. You both stood there looking at each other in yet again, another comfortable silence. "Hey...there was this movie I saw, a man and a woman were standing like this.." He took a small step forward towards you before continuing. "They were about this far from each other,..and then they kissed." You slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What's your point?" Angel looked away and sighed , "I've never done something like that, and probably won't. Things like that never really interested me it just- never mind.." You sighed and put the tissue over your mouth, you leaned even closer to Angel as his face slightly scrunched up a bit as if he was confused. When he was about to ask what you were even doing his eyes widened when you put the tissue over his mouth and leaned down to give him a soft kiss over the thin cloth. "There, was that okay?" You stepped back as he looked down, touching his lips before letting out a long groan and crouching down on the floor as he felt his cheeks heat up a little bit. "I...I can't work anymore today.."

Living in a beach house was probably one of the best choices you've made, you get to go out to the ocean...nice views...a lovely house not near too many people, and then....Beam. A fiend that you've become friends with..I suppose? You could say atleast, he'd visit you pretty often whenever you were just relaxing outside or just whenever he saw you he'd come running- Speaking of which, he was sitting next to you right now. It was night and you decided to just sit outside and look at the stars and as usual, Beam came to see you. "Hello Beam, it's nice to see you again." You smiled as you looked at him, Beam flashing you a toothy smile in return. "Yes! Nice to see you too!" You chuckled at his response as you looked back at the sky, Beam rocked back and forth as he looked up as well. There was silence between the both of you but you felt as if someone kept staring at you. To relieve your curiosity , you turned to face Beam...ah..Yeah, he was staring- He let out a startled noise when you turned to face him before quickly looking back. You brushed it off as just you catching him off guard, but as you continued to look at the scenery you could see Beam out of the corner of your eyes turning to look at you once more. "Ah- uhm!" You turned to look at Beam as he started talking, "yes?" He continued looking at you as he fumbled with his hands a bit, you rested you hand in your palm as you patiently waited for him to let out whatever he needed to say. Whenever Beam seemed to be around you , he always felt much more happy than he usually is. He'd feel his face heat up at the warm smile you'd always give him when he was around.. But at the same time,..as much as he'd want to hug you and such like he does with Denji..he never seems to have the courage to do so. Why? He's never felt like that before? Your eyes widened and you let out a small gasp as Beam grabbed your hands in his. "Beam..thinks your pretty! The most beautiful human alive!" You stared at him with wide eyes as you felt your own face slowly heating up. You both stared at each other in silence before you laughed. "Thank you Beam, but you're much prettier than I am."

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 」 ⋆

jean has a difficult day, returning home to you feeling exhausted and distant. maybe being held like a big, angry baby will fix him.

pairing. — jean kirschtein x gn!reader

word count. — 899

content. — sfw, jean is angsty but reader won’t let him be for long (so mild angst but it turns to fluff i swear), cuddling, physical affection, established relationship.

notes. — *waves nervously* hello all! so... after years i've finally caught up on aot and i have the brainrot pretty hardcore rn. not me lowkey returning to my anime era. anyways, i've never written for the fandom before but jean is my husband and this just popped into my brain the other day, so here we are. enjoy!

The front door opens and closes with a familiar set of noises that reflexively rouse you, but the air that settles in the room quickly thereafter is less routine.

“Hey!” you call out in greeting with a light smile, watching as Jean shuffles forward and removes his boots and coat afterward, draping it over the first available surface that will hold it. His burdened body language and lack of response is enough to tell you that his return home is not pleasant in spirit. Your deduction is only further proven by the way he slumps opposite you on the couch, elbows on knees with a long sigh and deadened eyes. Naturally, you want to offer support, but there’s another part of you that is almost afraid to poke the bear.

But it’s Jean. His bark is often far worse than his bite, and in this state it doesn’t look as though he’s well-equipped to do either.

Sitting up a bit after a moment of silence, you softly ask, “What’s the matter, Jeanbo?”

There’s the slightest hint of a cringe at the name but he seems content to let it go for the moment. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

You wonder what compels him to withhold the truth when you are often oh so good at extracting it from him, or at the very least able to tell when he’s lying in the first place. But looking at his evident exhaustion and lack of regular spirit, you also wonder if it's even worth it to pry.

However, you find it challenging to simply do nothing. “Baby…” you start, poking your toes just underneath where his thigh meets the seat cushion, probing for his full attention. “Don’t fib.”

There’s a flavor of attitude in the scoff he gives, gaze still fixed on the floor instead of on you.

Oh. So he really is in a mood—likely one that’s not going to be so easy to shake. But to date, you can’t recall a time that he’s ever given up on you, so how could you even think of doing such a thing to him? To leave him in his quiet, solitary misery would plague your conscience with guilt. Perhaps powering forward with a positive disposition will help pull him back to the light.

“Would a kiss make it better?” you ask with a lighthearted grin, hoping to entice him with your playfully offered affection.

Jean huffs and grunts but makes no effort to move away from you. “I’m not a baby, y’know.” His tone is still uncooperative, but there’s something about it that doesn’t entirely convince you. In all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never really truly given you the cold shoulder no matter how tough things managed to get. There’s no reason for you to believe that he would do it now.

You squint your eyes in displeasure, staring him down for a moment before deciding to take action. If he wants to be indignant, you’ll simply have to take a somewhat different approach.

“Oh? Is that so?” you say, brows raising in faux inquisition. “Come here.” You sit up now, reaching out to grab him beneath the arms as best as you can at your angle, and drag him backwards with all your might. He might be quite the large specimen, but that does nothing to deter your efforts.

“Hey–” he starts, surprised by your sudden incursion. Though rigid at first, he eventually becomes compliant and allows himself to be re-positioned between your legs, back against your torso and head against your chest. You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer, letting the weight of his body rest against your own. It isn’t long before you feel his muscles relax into this new position, releasing any tension they had previously clung to. Success.

Jean lets out a longer, far more relaxed sigh this time as your fingers gently toy with his hair, causing his eyes to close shortly after. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles and takes another deep breath. He’s almost in disbelief that he could attempt to deny himself of this, despite knowing how efficiently you are able to soothe him. He feels foolish for being so standoffish. “I love you.” His eyes are open now and he cranes his head back against your chest to look up at you as best as he can.

You offer a gentle smile and a small chuckle, feeling a deep sense of love and accomplishment. “S’okay, loverboy.” Your fingers brush at his bangs with adoration, and you give him a small peck on the cheek with your lips. Afterwards, your mouth stops just below his ear, and there you whisper, “I love you more.”

“Not possible,” he retorts, closing his eyes once again and shuffling against you for comfort. “No one beats me at anything.”

You roll your eyes as he lazily matches your smile and goes lax. “If you say so.” Arguing with him is the last thing you feel compelled to do now that he has been calmed, essentially using you as a pillow, and is surely about to drift off into a much-needed slumber. You’ll overcome the ordeal of figuring out how to move him later–for now, you’re happy just to watch him sleep undisturbed with the face of an angel, knowing that you’ve done your part in helping ease his burdens if only just for tonight.

[the-s1lly-corner]

so after Digital Circus came out, I've been having extreme Pomni brainrot, with her joining the horde of comfort characters for me. I'll like to request B, C, D, G, I, K, L, O, Q, R, T, V, W, X and Z. I'm so, so sorry this is a ton, if you wish you can do half of these requests. also sorry if I'm late by any chance

Fluff alphabet with Pomni! (1)

cracks my knuckles dont feel bad for asking for so many letters! if i didnt want people requesting so many for one character i would have put a cap on it!! i admit im not sure how long im going to do the fluff alphabet, i guess for however long people send in requests for it

BONDING- you guys bond by trying to find the exit/j but also not entirely a /j since now that i think about it i can definitely see it. otherwise a lot of your bonding comes from you showing pomni around outside the tend, since she still hasn't had the chance to explore the rest of the grounds

CUDDLING- small spoon simply because she is very small and needs someone to ground her to reality. very soft and squishy, its like holding a squishmallow

DATES- if this were the real world i can see pomni being a coffee shop person, but since it isnt... hmm.. i think dates mostly stick to spending time together in one of yall's rooms

GIFT GIVING- pomni does not give me vibes that they give you large things for gifts regardless of availability... they seem to be more of a handy small trinket person, "hey i saw this and thought of you and figured it might be of use to you" type of deal

IN HOUSE ADVENTURE- since pomni is still new to the endless possibilities of whatever it is caine cooks up for you guys, she gravitates towards you, out of trust and comfort mostly! you guys are kind of 50/50 in terms of if you guys actually function well as a team and solve whatever you need to do to reach the end goal caine has in mind

KISS- she cups your face, i think.. i can see it, very shy about it too, she will immediately pull away all bashfully. mouth kisses are her default, both giving and receiving

LOVE LANGUAGE- quality time and words of affirmation make pomni feel loved! its also how she shows her love, as well! especially the quality time, but as well as acts of service!

ODDITY- obviously this is likely going to be an issue for a while since shes new, but she is a bit. off given her trying to get used to being in the digital world. but just give her time and youre golden! though, i dont think pomni is ever going to fully accept being in the digital world

QUIET TIME- down time between you two is usually spent with the two of you sitting together in one of the common areas or your rooms. each doing your own activity while existing in the same space, fairly comfortable silence.. you two dont do everything together, and thats a-okay

ROSES- i think pomni would, tying into the "hey i thought of you" thing! pomni would not be opposed to being given flowers, pomni looks like a buttercup enjoyer

TUNES- first song that popped into my mind, no explanation.. maybe i miss beach bunny..

VALENTINE- in the real world she would treat you to a night in, with a few movies as well as your favorite snacks. probably gives you some flowers again.. in the digital world, the options are more limited... perhaps you two check out the carnival by the tent? the games there arent rigged.... probably...

WANT- they want someone who will actually listen to what shes trying to say and achieve, to be taken seriously. sure, a lot of the time in the pilot pomni is freaking out because shes coming to the realization that shes trapped, but i until we get more there isnt much i can say for her.. for now..

ZZZ- very sound sleeper, actually! tosses and turns every now and then but nothing too excessive, add that in with the cuddling segment and you guys would be pretty well rested after a night together, if you needed sleep in the digital world

[harmonysanreads]

Sends this because the Kaveh brainrot is real, and he's stuck in my head. Sorry for the length, I just had to get this out somewhere.

-----

It all started so innocently enough.

A couple of days ago, you went to drown your stress in alcohol. The stress of Akademiya, the stress of choosing a Darshan, and being alone in Sumeru, away from family and friends, took a toll on you. As you knocked back another drink, you let out a long sigh. A moment later, you found yourself looking into the red eyes of a peculiar blonde at the bar. You didn't remember most of the conversation, but recalled how animated he got when he kept complaining about his roommate.

A couple of days later, you went back to the bar sober. You were no closer to deciding anything, and none of the situations you were in were going to resolve itself. After taking a few more shots, you and the blonde found yourselves reaquainted at the bar once again. It was at this point he introduced himself as Kaveh.

Your eyes went wide when you realized who it was. Kaveh, the renowned architect and Ksharewar's most famous student. You couldn't believe it. Perhaps this was a sign from the universe that you should pursue your interest in technology? But then again, who said that you had to stick to just one?

You let out an audible groan as you allowed your head to lie on the bartop.

"Hey, are you alright?" Kaveh's voice was tinged with concern.

"No," you answered back. Your eyes were fixated on the shot glass you fiddled with on the bartop. "It's so stupid, but I can't decide. I just want to learn it all. Is that so wrong?"

The expression on your face must have looked particularly grim. Kaveh offered to help, being a listening ear to your sorrows. Once you drunk more "liquid courage," things just spilled out. All of your anxieties and fears were laid bare in front of this absolute famous stranger, but yet somehow, you felt safe telling him all of this.

But as you got up to leave, you were unsteady on your feet. Right as you were about to fall, Kaveh managed to pull you into the opposite direction from the floor, and into his arms.

"Oops. Thank you."

Kaveh shook his head. "You're not safe to walk home. Let me walk you home."

"But don't you have work to do too? I can go home by myself." Your slightly slurred speech didn't seem to convince Kaveh. Instead, it seemed to make him double down.

"If you won't let me walk you home, then at least sleep it off at my place." He muttered under his breath, "At least Alhaitham isn't home."

Too drunk to hear that muttering, but cognizant enough to recognize that Kaveh was saying something, you wanted him to repeat himself. You looked at him with confused eyes. "Did you say something?"

"If you won't let me walk you home, why don't you come over and sleep it off?"

Your hands immediately curled into Kaveh's shirt. You buried your head in his chest and asked softly, "can you stay with me?"

And that was the first night you ended up sleeping over at the architect's place.

As you and Kaveh got to know each other more, it became painfully clear how much both of you relied on each other. You celebrated your small victories together, and vented your frustrations. You got the feeling that he just got you, no matter what it was. You had forgotten how nice it feels having someone to rely on.

And after many conversations with him, you decided to go into the Ksharewar Darshan. To celebrate your achievement, both of you met back at his house. Kaveh said that he had something to give you. He made you a small handmade memento - a necklace with the logo for Ksharewar on it. Excitedly, you turn your back to him as you wait for him to put on the necklace.

Once the cold steel of the necklace was laid on your bare neck, you shuddered. His actions were gentle and sincere, but yet his light touches seemed to set your skin and your heart on fire. You placed your hands on your cheeks to feel the heat. You only drank two glasses at his place - it shouldn't have been enough to get you drunk, but you felt unsteady as if the world was tilting.

The last word that fell from your lips before you blacked out was his name, Kaveh.

While you were unconscious and seemingly asleep, the architect laid you down gently on the couch and tucked your stray hair behind your ears. He fiddled with the necklace that adorned your neck. Around the clasp that would normally allow one to take it off, was a piece of thin metal around it. It blocked the clasp, so the necklace couldn't be taken off. In the Ksharewar lion's eye, was a small little tracker device.

While Kaveh was sincerely happy about your acceptance into his Darshan, he wasn't about to let anyone else try to steal you away from him. With this, he would always be with you. He would know where you are, in case anything happened. You bared your heart to him, and with this, he bared his. He was your pillar just as much as you were his.

You would always be his, and only his.

A-anon.. have you considered starting a yandere blog??? BECAUSE THIS IS SO GOOD EXCUSE ME.

Since you deemed my inbox worthy enough for this jewel, please allow me to honour it with Kaveh's perspective<3

What does Kaveh see when he glances at a mirror?

The question itself tastes sardonic when he repeats it upon his own tongue. Kaveh has a reputation for being theatrical in certain topics and so, the bitter smile that stretches on his lips at the proposition of such a simple inquiry leaves many betrayed of the weight of it to the architect. Not just a mirror, any reflective surface that's had the misfortune of capturing strands of gold and optics of ruby, presents to Kaveh the haunting image of a design far too broken, far too astray from the line of saving and one he decides is better left that way — for that is what it deserves.

His relationship with himself causes many to furrow their brows, from concern, pity or the feelings of encountering something alien ; which is why, Kaveh does not even bother giving more than that cryptic smile anymore. If nothing else, this matter itself is not theatrical prose to the architect ; it's the nothing that has one trip and fall to the abyss, it's not one of his dramatic rambles because, Kaveh does not see himself upon a mirror. He only sees cracks, a broken and battered man and a thousand more cues of what could've been.

But what do the same resplendent scarlets capture when they fix on you?

They see a reflection. An almost stranger in the world of a man who's lost sight of himself, a once friend turned to nothing. Perhaps it was the desperation to not lose track of that familiarity again, perhaps it was the tentative tug of a connection that both of you craved which extended what was supposed to be but a passing conversation in the heat of intoxication. Regardless, neither of you gave up and when either tried to, it seemed as though the universe frowned. Therefore, it would have been stupidity in its extreme to reject such a gift.

You are his muse, his light and his basis of existence just as much as he is yours. Kaveh has let the world take what it desired of him for all his life in exchange of miniscule joys and accomplishments. Neither has he condemned its greed (or perhaps he has, and when it came back fruitless he merely accepted) nor has he tried to demand reimbursement. Some call him selfless, others say he's hopeless but he's certain of this much ; without you he'd be lesser than what he's been, for you are half of him.

But he'd rather throw himself in the midst of a Snezhnayan blizzard than bring you any pain, not when you've finally found your spark of lustre. The necklace will serve as a mark, a claim of who's found you first should someone dare to steal you away. The knowledge that this measure is wrong stings his already swollen heart but he has to do it. Let the heavens grant him this one instance of self-interest even if it's the last of his existence, he knows his shattered being will not be mended by meager methods — therefore, descend the pain tenfold in exchange if the skies so desire. He'll let anything be taken away from him with a happy face, so long as that meant you stayed.

I'm so so sorry for the late response, I've just been (unwillingly) drowning in a river of stress from school as of late ;—; I wanted to properly reciprocate your energy nonnie :'(