#had a moment where I seriously wondered why I was drawing this

[strixcattus]

I realized partway through the original Tatchgob drawing that the pose I put it in makes it look as though its legs are much smaller than the Wutugald's.

As this hastily-drawn diagram shows, the legs are in there somewhere. The Tatchgob is still capable of big steppy.

[lovebugism]

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them. 

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?” 

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache. 

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself. 

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper. 

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?” 

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong. 

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.” 

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them. 

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : LITTLE MUTANT: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You are spending a peaceful afternoon with your four-year-old son, Tommy. While playing, you notice his toy plane suddenly floating in the air, revealing the first signs of his mutant abilities. Startled, you call Logan, who rushes back home. Together, you both watch as Tommy uses telekinesis to stack his building blocks, completely unaware of the gravity of what he's doing. Logan reassures you that, just like him, Tommy will learn to control his powers, and you both find comfort in knowing you'll handle it as a family.

Based on this request.

IT WAS A QUIET SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT THE HOWLETT HOUSEHOLD, the kind of peaceful day that felt like a rare gem. Birds chirped outside the open window, sunlight streamed into the living room, and the air smelled of fresh laundry. The idyllic scene was only made more perfect by the sight of you and your four-year-old son, Tommy, curled up on the sofa together.

Tommy sat in your lap, giggling as you tickled his belly, his small fingers clutching a toy airplane. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes, the ones he’d inherited from his father, Logan. That same scruffy intensity, but softened by the innocence of a child.

"Mommy, fly!" Tommy exclaimed, holding the plane above his head and wiggling it through the air. "Look! I'm a pilot!"

"You sure are, sweetie," you said, grinning. "You're the best pilot I've ever seen. Where are you flying today, Captain Tommy?"

He squinted, thinking seriously about it for a moment. "To the moon! And then... and then to the jungle to find the lions!" His arms wobbled as he made dramatic sound effects, roaring for the lions.

"The moon and the jungle? Busy day!" You played along, tousling his messy hair. He was so full of energy and imagination that it felt like every day with him was an adventure.

Just as you leaned down to kiss his forehead, you noticed something odd. The plane in his hand seemed to... well, it seemed to be shaking.

No, not shaking. Floating. It was barely perceptible, but it was definitely hovering, just a few inches above his hand.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes, thinking maybe you were just tired. Four years of motherhood didn’t exactly do wonders for your sleep schedule. But when you looked again, the plane was still floating, a soft blue glow surrounding it like it was suspended by some invisible force.

"Uh, Tommy?" you said, trying to keep your voice calm. "How are you doing that, honey?"

Tommy, completely oblivious to the phenomenon, just giggled and shook the plane in the air again. "Doing what, Mommy?"

You felt your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. Logan was going to want to see this.

You carefully placed Tommy on the sofa and reached for your phone. Logan had gone out for one of his "I need some space to clear my head" walks in the woods behind the house, but it looked like he was about to get pulled back into dad duty.

You quickly dialed his number. It only took one ring before his gravelly voice answered, laced with that familiar grumpiness.

“Yeah honey?”

“Logan, you need to get back here. Now.”

There was a brief pause. “Why? What’s wrong? Is Tommy okay?”

“He’s... fine. Sort of. Just... hurry. I think something’s happening.”

“Be there in five.” You heard the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of him running before he hung up. Classic Logan. Always ready to bolt into action the second his family needed him.

You turned back to Tommy, who had abandoned his floating toy plane in favor of drawing on the wall with a crayon. Normally, that would’ve driven you crazy, but given the circumstances, a little crayon art felt like the least of your worries.

~

True to his word, Logan burst through the front door exactly five minutes later, his rugged frame filling the entryway. His flannel shirt was half unbuttoned, exposing his muscular chest, and his hair was as wild as ever. He looked like he’d sprinted the entire way back.

“Okay,” he grumbled, striding into the living room. “What’s going on?”

You pointed toward Tommy, who was now sitting on the floor, happily stacking his building blocks... without touching them. The blocks were arranging themselves in mid-air, each one glowing faintly, as if magnetically drawn into place.

“Logan...” you whispered, your eyes wide. “Our son is a mutant.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as he knelt down to Tommy’s level, watching intently. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just observing the floating blocks. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s got it.”

You knelt beside Logan, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think... do you think he knows what he’s doing?”

Tommy, blissfully unaware of the significance of his new abilities, just grinned up at the both of you. "Daddy, look! I'm a magician!"

Logan’s gruff expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, buddy. Looks like you are.”

You leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of Logan’s body next to yours as you whispered, “What do we do?”

Logan huffed a small laugh and shrugged, his usual stoicism breaking just a little. “Hell if I know. You think there’s a manual for this? He’s a kid. He’s got a mutation. We’ll figure it out.”

“But... what if he can’t control it? What if it gets worse?”

Logan glanced at you, his expression serious now, but not without comfort. “He’s our kid. We’re not gonna let him go through this alone. We’ll teach him, just like I was taught.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in your chest ease slightly. If anyone could handle this, it was Logan. He’d been through enough in his own life to know what it was like to have powers he couldn’t control. And now, with Tommy showing signs of being a mutant, it felt like you were entering uncharted territory as parents.

Tommy, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in his floating blocks, giggling as they danced in the air. “Look, Mommy! I’m making a tower!”

“That’s... a very nice tower, sweetie,” you said, forcing a smile as you watched the blocks stack themselves higher and higher.

Logan chuckled softly and ruffled Tommy’s hair, his gruff exterior melting just a little more. “Hey, kiddo, maybe we should keep the floating stuff between us for now, huh? Don’t want to freak out the other kids at daycare.”

Tommy looked up at Logan with wide eyes, as if he was processing the most important secret of his life. He nodded seriously. “Okay, Daddy. I won’t tell. It’s our secret.”

Logan shot you a look, raising his eyebrow as if to say, *See? Easy.* You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully.

“So, what now, oh wise and experienced mutant dad?” you teased, leaning your head against Logan’s shoulder.

He smirked, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Now? We teach him how to use those powers right. And maybe... we start bolting down the furniture.”

You laughed, feeling the tension finally break as Logan kissed the top of your head. It wasn’t exactly the parenting journey you’d imagined, but with Logan by your side, you knew you could handle anything. Even a four-year-old with telekinesis.

Tommy, now bored of his floating tower, climbed into Logan’s lap, resting his head on his father’s chest. “Daddy, can we play with the lions tomorrow?”

Logan smiled softly, stroking Tommy’s hair. “Yeah, buddy. We’ll play with the lions. But remember... no floating lions.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Tommy murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as he dozed off.

As you watched your little boy fall asleep in Logan’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of love for both of them. Your life might not have been normal by any stretch, but it was yours. And honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Guess we’ve got our hands full,” you whispered, resting your hand on Tommy’s small back.

Logan glanced down at you, that familiar glint of affection in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’.”

And as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over your family, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe parenting a little mutant wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @shybluebirdninja @boomveronika @wolviesgirl @slowlikehoneyyyy @lanabobana @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[ginnymoonbeam]

Ep 8 of The On1y One had so much, but now that I've cried over the word "home" I wanna go back to the scenes between the teachers, because it hit some queer realities we don't often get in BL.

First, Jenny Yang noticing Lin Bei Ting's rainbow mug and asking if he supports gay rights. That's not code for asking if he's gay - in plenty of places and times, just being an ally is controversial and something you might need to be careful about revealing in a conservative workplace. I take all of Jenny's comments and warnings at face value there: she's letting him know this is not a safe place to be public as an ally. Of course he is also actually gay, so the threat to him is much higher, which is why he immediately gives her the mug.

Then the later scene, getting more into a dynamic that we've already seen where Zhao Xi is friendly to the point of gentle flirtation with Jenny, and Lin Bei Ting is clearly unhappy. When we first saw this in ep 7, I wondered if I'd been wrong to read Zhao Xi and Lin Bei Ting as already a couple, but seeing it here and with the previous conversation in mind, I think they are. There's "we're not saying anything but people can draw their own conclusions" closeted and then there's seriously for-real closeted where you might opt to do things like casually flirt with a female coworker to keep up the appearance, and the latter is what I see happening in these scenes. They would absolutely lose their jobs at the school and probably would have their business targeted if people thought they were a couple. Lin Bei Ting understands what Zhao Xi is doing and why, but it sucks and feels bad. The little apologetic "here's your tea too" moment said so much, in how they both understand what's happening here and there's not much Zhao Xi can do in the moment, in public, to make it up to him.

All this happening in an episode where it seems like the whole world is gossiping about Jiang Tian and Sheng Wang moving into the dorms just makes my heart ache for the boys, and the threats they might face. I think the juxtaposition is deliberate and I think Zhao Xi is having some of the same thoughts as the teachers discuss the kids. My read is that he knows or guesses Jiang Tian is gay and has been shepherding him a little on that basis, standing by to give him guidance or just a gleam of hope, in the way that we elder queers do when we see young ones that don't have home and family support. We'll see where it all goes, but I really love the way the elders have been woven into the story so far.

[luckykiwiii101]

STUCKINMYBRAIN

YOUR MIND IS WHERE YOU BELONG

Learn To Get Stuck In Your Brain, The Right Way….

HEY UPPER EAST SIDERS!

Have you been stuck in your brain recently? Literally. Clouded by all your own thoughts, tormented by the reality that encompasses you. Well, if there’s one thing you can never truly escape, it’s your own mind.

The mind is either a place of loathe or love. So why not create your mind into something beautiful. Something you want to wake up with everyday. A tool to create the life of your dreams. Doesn’t that sound nice?

Well if so, i’ll teach you how to get stuck in your brain, the right way. The gossip girl way.

You know, it’s been a while since you’ve told yourself “I’m going to persist and manifest the life of my dreams.”

And I wonder how many times you’re going to tell yourself that before you break.

First of all, acknowledge that you create everything with your mind. You’re not a victim of the 3D. You’re a victim of your own mind. Ironic because you are your mind. And how can you be a victim to yourself? The 3D and the 4D are not separate. Once you understand that, let’s move on.

You are going to recreate the life you live in your mind. Your subconscious knows everything you want. You are going to keep reminding yourself that you have the life of your dreams. And you’re going to live in your mind. You’re going to fall inlove with your life in your imagination. So much that you won’t want to leave. You’ll persist. And you won’t give up. Because giving up means that you’re giving into the 3D, something that isn’t real.

When you ordered something online, you knew you were going to get it. You believed in the unseen. Manifestation isn’t any different than that, except the fact that it has already been delivered, and all there’s left to do, is to enjoy having it.

You’re in control.

You’re the only one who can change your life.

Seriously, ask yourself. How long will it take before you break?

I know you’ve had those thoughts “I wish I persisted and I would’ve had what I wanted by now.”

Why are you waiting for circumstances to get worse? Is the moment you’re only hanging on by a thread where you draw the line?

The threads getting looser, and looser. And when it breaks, so will you. If I were you, I wouldn’t f around and find out what happens after that.

You know everything you need to know yet you aren’t using it. Clearly you don’t care enough…you can choose to leave that in the present, or the past. Change. What’s a wake up call if you just go back to sleep again? You’ll reach a point where you can’t be saved anymore. Where you become desensitised by wake up calls, by the harsh truth. Because you’ve found comfort in it. That’s where true failure is.

Stay stuck in your brain OR get stuck in your brain. You choose.

- gossip girl

[popponn]

how one looks. [isagi yoichi x f!reader]

notes: this was born out of love and rage for his anime official arts' clothes because why is my man dressed like t h a t way too many times already... so i will bully him a bit (then feel bad about it. and it shows). other than that: fluff, yoichi got so sappy and so smitten for a hot sec, yoichi's fashion sense slander (and lets be honest. it deserves it. yoichi's plus point, many. negative point, his closet.)

“You know,” you began and Yoichi instantly felt like he was about to get a ball kicked to his face. “I had been thinking. Why do you look like an unfashionable grandpa sometimes?”

“…huh?” Yoichi responded, not really knowing how to answer to that. What should a guy do when their girlfriend of three years plus a half, who is also probably the love of their life, insinuate something about their appearance? Neither Blue Lock nor his parents prepared him for this.

With your eyes squinting at him, you leaned towards him from your seat in the armchair. One hand perched on the armrest and supported your chin as your face scrunched up from your thoughts. “I mean, I do think you are cute and handsome. Charming too,” you said.

Yoichi tried not to melt. Years passed and he is still weak whenever you praise him out of blue like this. From his parents to his teammates to Noel Noa knew about this—so, in attempt to be normal, Yoichi tried to kept everything under a soft smile directed to you only, “Gosh. You know, you are—”

“Hey, this is about you not me. Shush, shush,” you scolded him lightly with a finger pressed to his lips. This time, Yoichi could only blinked absentmindedly as you continued in a serious manner, “But, you see, if I look at you properly without bias—I wonder why I could think like that.”

It was at this point Yoichi realized you were trying to call him not cute, not handsome, and not charming in a very roundabout way. Again, confused on how to react to things like this, he said, “…uh?”

You were not Rin, Barou, Kaiser or anyone he shared competitive trash talking with hell and back—and even calling him ‘ugly’ really was tame to the shits spitted out straight at his face. You were never like this and Yoichi knows since the four years ‘unclear situationship’ period that his appearance really does not matter to you who would look at him gently even with his face dressed in odd drawings courtesy of Bachira’s oil markers. With that being said, he really didn’t understand what was going on.

“Your hair is honestly generic. Like, I really get why Rin said he called you NPC back then,” you explained and Yoichi tried not to wince. “Oh, but don’t change it! If it changes, especially without me knowing beforehand, I probably won’t recognize you. Though what’s a bit unique about them are probably only your sprout and bangs…kind of?”

In silence and in attempt to be a good boyfriend, Yoichi could only nod.

“And then, your fashion sense…” you continued, pity coloring your face, “…actually, where do I start on that one? I think that one part of you is so hopeless it kind of turn around to cute… in a really naive and stupid way though.”

For a moment, Yoichi remembered how he used to think in Blue Lock some people could be very harsh in commenting. Turns out, listening to your girlfriend obliterating you appearance wise is a whole another level of ego bruising experience. “Now, come on, you know I’m not good at those mix matching thing…” he admitted with pain in his voice. Because at this point what could he do?

“Of course I know,” you said as if he was saying that sky is blue. “I mean, remember how I used to tease you about ‘all point in soccer and social skill, zero in others’?” Yoichi doubted that it was all ‘teasing’. At this moment, it felt like lighthearted bullying. “I’m not exactly a hundred percent kidding, you know.”

At least he saw this one coming.

“Ugh, what brought this on suddenly, seriously?” Yoichi asked with a groan. Did he do something? He didn’t forget an anniversary or something, right?

You hummed, before answering hesitantly, “Hmm…nothing much actually?”

“So you just said all that for no reason?!” he cried out, not actually buying you answer. At that, you stayed silent for a moment.

“…actually, it’s because I saw a photo of you online, not the most recent, I think,” you finally admitted, your eyes slowly drifting away from his face. “…your clothes was so ugly there I felt like burning your closet suddenly.”

“Please don’t,” Yoichi said quickly, before prompting you to continue. “And?”

“…it’s a waste,” you continued. “You are handsome, cute. Your eyes look good when you are focused. You are like a really handsome cat who is really good at soccer. But you dress like an unfashionable grandpa who really loves neon green sometimes, so it’s a waste.”

Listening to your explanation, both fondness and exasperation overcame Yoichi in a wave that felt like a pleasant breeze compared to whatever you just dished out to him seconds ago. “Don’t burn my closet though,” Yoichi said, utterly serious and yet somehow still couldn’t find it in himself to be even be a little stern on you after such honest praises.

Suddenly feeling a bit shy and tired, Yoichi buried his face in his hands. He knew for sure his face was red. And he knew how obviously weak he is for you. From the back of his mind, he could hear some familiar voices poking at him for being like this, but in the end there will always be a part of him that is so in love with you it becomes straight up stupid.

Maybe it indeed is so dumb and selfish, because as long as you are happy and it is a time shared with him, Yoichi probably wouldn’t really mind having to listen to you calling him an ‘unfashionable grandpa’ everyday.

He, more than anyone, understands how the two of you has dreams and life that took the two of you away from each other. And even then, Yoichi knows that that one part of him—one that always gaze at your sleeping figure silently, wondering how he could have this and why someone as wonderful as you is here by his side—is rightfully fearful of a ‘bad ending’. Yoichi knows you love him. Yoichi knows he loves you. Yoichi got called selfish, egoistic, self centered, and self serving many times already in matches, and that is exactly why—he knows himself.

If it’s for you—for every part of life you had given to him, for every part of you that he had fallen in love with—he is ready to be as selfless as he could.

Happily and gladly.

“Hey, you have been silent for a while now.” A pair of hands warped itself around him, meekly, as your head rested on his back. “…sorry. Was I too much? I made you overthink, didn’t I? You know I still love you, right? Even if you suddenly wake up as a wrinkly grandpa with creaking knees tomorrow.”

Yoichi laughed at that, still covering part of his face. “I don’t want to retire yet so that better not happen,” he replied lightly, going along with you.

“…you are not crying, right?” you asked, guilt written all over your tone. Yoichi tried and failed to held back a chuckle. So, accepting his fate as a lovesick asshole, he turned and pushed you to the sofa, laying his face down on your stomach as he settled in an uncomfortable position to hug you.

Yet, without paying any mind to his lower body that remained sitting whilst upper body rested on you, Yoichi said, “I’m not. How could I with you hugging me like this?”

“…really?”

“Really.”

“…should we really stay like this any longer though…?” you asked, eventually. “I’m worried for your hips.”

“I’m fine,” Yoichi said while nuzzling his face slowly to your clothes. “Just think of this as payback for bullying me.”

You scoffed lightly at that, “And you said you were fine.”

“Yeah, I am,” Yoichi said as he felt your fingers combed through his hair. So much for commenting his hairstyle. He made a note to tease you later, but for a bit longer—

“Just, let me stay here, okay?”

[razorblade180]

Martial Practice 2

March:*planking*…….

Yanqing:Two more minutes.

March:You’re insane.

Yanqing:You said you were going to take this seriously, and I’m going to take this-

March:*plops to the ground*

Yanqing:Seriously!?

March:I’m trying! Although I don’t get how this helps swordplay!

Yanqing:Your arms will get tired swinging a sword a lot, but it’ll never feel worse than planking for five minutes. Honestly I thought you had it. You can help fight Phantylia but not endure a five minute plank.

March:Not even remotely close to begin the same thing! Ugh, this is frustrating.

Yanqing:Imagine my position. I see you make similar pacing errors I’ve done and can’t help but patiently wait for you to stop!

March:It’s not like I’m not listening. I just-

Yanqing:Think you can make use of an opening, so you take it. Believe me, I get it deeply! Now I get what the General means when he says “Don’t think you can make a strike. Know you can make a strike.”

March:Ahhh, so know different than archery. Don’t let the bowstring go unless you know have the shot.

Yangqing:I…actually never thought of it like that.

March:Yanqing, I really am taking this seriously and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but Yunli’s approach in our practice is a little less…intense. *sits up*

Yanqing:Of course it is. After all, you’re representing the Loufu, not the Zhuming. Not to say she isn’t being earnest, but certain pressure isn’t going to fall on her if you make errors.

March:Oh…it’s that serious?

Yanqing:Yes and no. Sorta?

March:What happened to needing certainty!? You can be direct with a sword and not an explanation?

Yanqing:Hey! I’m trying to find the right phrasing! March, you are an outsider but you’re also an accomplished fighter. In all honesty, you’re picking up the sword really well. People all over will be interested to see your skills, but I wouldn’t say their expectations are unreasonable. Like I said, you’re not from here.

March:So the bar is great instead of excellence. Mistakes won’t be held too harshly against me but that doesn’t mean I can afford to cause a blunder.

Yanqing:It wouldn’t surprise me if most citizens would simply be happy seeing someone as charismatic as you take part in learning our customs. Mistakes are bound to happen; however, they’ll be directed at my inabilities as a teacher. Then by extension…they’ll say things like “what has the General been teaching his disciple?” That’s where I draw the line. I refuse to cause him any unnecessary trouble.

March:So that’s why you’re so stiff. I can see why, but Jing Yuan doesn’t seem like the type of person to put too much stock in opinions like that. He definitely wouldn’t blame you.

Yanqing:Doesn’t change the fact I would be causing unnecessary problems for him. I’d blame myself…

March:…(He’s quite the little adult. Between him, Bailu, and Dan Heng, I’m starting to wonder if any kid on the Loufu actually gets a childhood.) Looks like I gotta put in double the effort. But first…mind if we eat?

Yanqing:Alright. Despite what it might look like, I’m not trying to run you into the ground. I’ll buy of course. I’m sure there’s something on the ship you’re still dying to try.

The sudden and loud sound of his stomach growling makes his face turn a little red as March tried not to snicker. Yanqing simply starts walking, prompting her to get up.

Even after that little moment, March notices how the boy carries himself maturely and as a teacher. If she was being honest with herself, March remembered how eager she was to do right by Himeko and Welt when she was brought into the Express family. Sure she entered the Wardance out of curiosity, but the choice to train so admittedly was born from the desire to continue helping her newfound family. She could definitely relate to Yanqing’s ambitions and fears.

Without hesitation, March pulled out her camera and ran to catch up with him. The girl put her arm around his shoulders and smiled brightly before hitting the flash.

Yanqing:Agh! What the heck!?

March:Hehe, hmmm not a bad photo of me at least. You might need some work though.

She shows him an image of her smiling cutely while he’s completely caught unaware and a little startled. His stern face quickly shattered into pouting as all prior thoughts vanished.

Yanqing:I wasn’t ready! That’s not fair!

March:Oh so you want another one? Okay, better bring your best smile!

“Best smile.” Funny, the moment he thought about it, Yanqing immediately found it difficult. Teeth or no teeth? Was he looking too directly into the lens? Why was this so hard!? His gaze shifted left at March to see what smile she was making; only to notice the girl was sticking her tongue at him childishly. Yanqing didn’t think twice about returning the gesture as they began the dumbest stare down in history.

It wasn’t long before both of them broke out into laughter over their antics, giving March the perfect opportunity. Click! The perfect shot of just two fast friends being silly and full of life.

March:Aye, I knew you had it in you. I’ll be sure to send you a copy. That way you’ll never forget!

Yanqing:Yeah well…thanks. *smiles* Now then, let’s get some food already. I’m starving!

March:Don’t have to tell me twice!

[cyxnidx]

WHAT’RE YOU READING ?

characters: cyno, tighnari, baizhu

genre: suggestive

warnings: tighnari is a little shit, and baizhu is..something

a/n: i had this idea while thinking about reading bj alex

you heard the door close, and cyno’s voice call out for you. you paid no mind to it, continuing to press the next button on the website you were reading a manwha on, assuming everything would be fine, considering the last few pages have been sweet and romantic.

though, you were surprised to find that the next page was anything but sweet and romantic. one of the characters kissed the other, and the more you scrolled, the worse it got.

and with the worst timing ever, cyno barged into your room. “hey, didn’t you hear me call you?” he asked, confused.

quickly, you put your phone down and stood in front of it. “no..i was listening to music a while ago.”

a dumb lie, really. where were the headphones if you were listening to music?

he froze, confused. he could tell you were flustered, but about what? he hadn’t even done anything yet. not that he planned to.

“what’s up with you..?” he asked, confused, and somewhat hurt you lied to obviously.

“nothing! why would something be wrong?” you asked casually. though, you got tense as he got closer to you.

“y/n, is there something you’re hiding from me?” he asked. you shook your head.

sighing, he quickly slid his hand behind you and took your phone, your screen facing you.

the scene was still there.

the two of you fought for the phone until he eventually took it from you, admiring whatever was there, though, his face quickly went into shock.

meanwhile, you were standing and gathering your balance. you looked at him as he looked at your phone.

sighing, you spoke. “that’s why you mind your business.”

he looked at you, blinking confused. “if you were horny, you could’ve just said that.” he said blatantly.

surprised, you snatched your phone and sighed. “shut up.”

“tighnari?” you asked, looking at your boyfriend on your computer. “what’re you doing?”

you were just now coming home, and as expected, he was back before you. however, what you didn’t expect, was him to be on your computer.

as you got closer, you realized he was reading the smut you’d left open earlier. you could’ve sworn you existed the tab though? “why’re you—“

“is this what you fantasize about?” he asked bluntly, turning in the swivel chair.

you stood there silently. your goal was to not give an answer, though, it was already clear.

standing, he took your hand, pulling you closer to him. “tell me, is it?”

you nodded, somewhat curious to see what’d happen. smirking, his hands began wondering your body as he kissed you.

moving the both of you from standing, to getting you to sit in the chair he was once. his fingers pulled at the waist band of your pants, pulling it down painfully slowly.

and all of a sudden, it was gone.

sighing, he stood above you as you fixed yourself in the chair. “you’re so needy, baby..”

you rolled your eyes, clearly flustered all because of that one moment.

“it’s adorable, really. how easily you can get riled up.” he teased, grabbing your cheeks. “so pretty, hm.”

you said a muffled ‘fuck you’, getting a laugh out of him. “i thought you wanted me to fuck you? reading such lewd things.”

sighing, you gave up on responding. not that you could, he wouldn’t take you seriously with how you looked, cheeks smushed together.

you were on your ipad, sitting on a couch across from where baizhu sat in his reading chair whilst qiqi was off somewhere in her room.

originally, your idea was to draw something simple. though, eventually, you got bored and decided to find inspiration from somewhere of what to draw.

and what better place to find inspiration from than your favorite smut? you gotta admit, sometimes, the positions are amazing, smut or not.

then you had to choose your canvas. who was going to be your victim? baizhu, of course. he was sitting in the most perfect position, similar to the one you chose. it was too good to be true. too good of an opportunity to miss.

quietly, you began consistently looking up from your ipad, admiring baizhu’s figure, then back down to look for a similar color or to base something off what he’s wearing.

eventually, you did get caught and it ended up with him looking up from his book to see you admiring his figure longer, or rather harsher, than you usually would.

“what’re you looking at?” baizhu asked, putting a bookmark in his book to match your gaze.

startled, you looked back down at your ipad as to make him think you were zoning out, or was just checking up to make sure he was still there.

the simple things you’d do out of habit.

however, it did nothing to help you, only making him more curious.

thinking he just simply gave up and continued to read his book, you looked up only to find that he was no longer there. feeling a breath against your ear, you turned frantically to catch eyes with baizhu. standing right behind you

“whatcha doin’?” he asked, as if he didn’t just see the drawing you were making.

“drawing..” you answered truthfully, but not fully in truth. how long he was there? there was no clue. for all you know, he could’ve only gotten a glimpse of the lewd picture you’d made.

“drawing what, hun?” he then asked once again. knowing he knew what you were drawing, and his eyes were not, in fact, deceiving him, you gave up on speaking.

silently, he sighed and came to sit beside you. “there somethin’ you been meaning to tell me, or am i gonna have to see it for myself? again?”

you didnt know whether or not to take that as a compliment or rather an insult. “whats that supposed to mean?”

“either tell me, or i’ll have to force it out of you.” he spoke in a straightforward manner, tone and gaze much different than his usual soft and loving expression.

sighing, you began to explain what you were doing, watching as he listened intently. everything from the smut, to describing it and why exactly its your favorite and your intentions through it all.

by the end of it, he was quite quiet. though, the silence broke not long after. “if you wanted to try something new, you could’ve said that.”

-

[miasbby]

indefinitely ours.

(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)

summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.

word count : 7.2k (sorry)

note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!

warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.

●○●○●○●○●○●

An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance. 

The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming. 

Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that. 

The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…

“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”

Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk. 

“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.” 

And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating. 

If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers. 

Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever. 

“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”

You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try. 

Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you. 

Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.

“Of course. See you tonight.”

If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show. 

—

That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer. 

(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)

The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now. 

Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today. 

“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”

“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”

Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots. 

“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.” 

The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.

Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago. 

The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive. 

That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.

-

The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you. 

She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared. 

Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention. 

And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies. 

She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”

Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle. 

You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt. 

“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”

Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”

It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here. 

“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”

Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”

Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”

“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”

Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”

“I’m not-”

“Can you blame me, though?”

Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore. 

“No. I think I understand.”

Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle. 

“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”

Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.

Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction. 

Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.

It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.  

Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light. 

“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”

When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension. 

The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.

Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more? 

You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet. 

-

Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea. 

You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?

That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.

The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills. 

Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp. 

A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity. 

You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap. 

Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.

-

They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around. 

It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable. 

“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship. 

“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”

You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra. 

“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom. 

It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give. 

And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow. 

-

“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”

A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol. 

Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin. 

“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most. 

You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”

Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”

“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”

It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”

Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose. 

All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach. 

That must have been a fairly nice dream. 

-

You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought. 

Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing. 

If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid. 

Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be. 

“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”

Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”

“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told. 

“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”

At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”

Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows. 

“Good girl.” 

A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own. 

“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”

You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence. 

“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”

“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly. 

“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”

Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you. 

“You better beg for it.”

When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality. 

It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body. 

“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”

There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs. 

“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”

“N-never, I- I don’t-”

Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”

“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”

You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it. 

But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun. 

Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.

The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse. 

You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly. 

Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”

And, it’s cruel, but of course you do. 

Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes. 

Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking. 

Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself. 

And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control. 

“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover. 

Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence. 

Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine. 

“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”

“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair. 

They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.

-

“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”

Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed. 

The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”

“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting. 

You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please. 

“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”

Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished. 

“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with. 

Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure. 

“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck. 

You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order. 

-

An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.

Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time. 

Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.

“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”

“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets. 

“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”

It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface. 

Yet, you know it’s more than that. 

It’s a promise. 

A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.  

[gemini-sensei]

Angsty poly!Hawk x Reader x Robby thought:

Miguel and Sam just had their son and they're so happy and excited. It's the first kid of their friend group so the little guy is just so loved and everyone makes a fuss over him. Hawk is so happy to be an uncle, whenever they go over to Miguel and Sam's place, he always wants to hangout with the infant even if it's just holding him while he naps. It isn't all that surprising since Hawk spends his days at the dojo teaching kids the basics of karate, which he secretly calls the secrets of badassery. Hawk loves kids, so this of course leads to him making little comments about how he can't wait to be a dad some day.

At the same time, Robby is so nervous about even the idea that he could be anyone's father in the future. Robby works with kids though, kids in tough situations who feel like they have no control over his life. But that's totally different, he swears up and down it's not the same as being a father. And he's right, it's not the same. But he thinks he's a subpar youth advocate when he's actually a lot of kids and teens favorite person to talk to. He's selling himself short. It's a whole thing.

But all this to say that when Hawk and Reader start talking about possibly having a baby, Robby doesn't know what to do. He's so scared but sees how happy the idea of a baby makes his partners, that he goes along with it. He thinks, "I'm not ready but they are, so why should my dumb little fears stop them?" He starts to pull back from their relationship without realizing it. He spends more time working than he is at home. He's helping kids elsewhere, which is noble of course, but he's throwing himself into finding resources and help for these kids than ever before. He's falling asleep at his office while his partners are at home wondering where he is.

He of course is home when Reader announces she's pregnant and Robby pulls on a smile because she's so happy and he's happy because he's happy. For a moment, he's not thinking about his fears but he is repressing them because this is real now. And in some twisted way knowing that the baby is Hawk's and not biologically his helps him not freak out so much when he steps out of the room for a glass of water. His heart is beating so hard in his chest that he thinks it might break free and fall on the floor. Also, he might puke.

Hawk comes in and stands with him, silently, for a while. Robby smiles and Hawk sees right through it. "Stop with the bullshit."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not exactly subtle, but Reader is so excited that she can't even see you fake smile. So cut the bullshit and tell me what's really going on. Are you done with us?"

"Don't with- what are you talking about?"

"The late nights, the sleeping at the office, the few mornings you stay and eat breakfast with us, you're checked out, man. So tell me the truth, are you done with us?"

Robby can only stare for a moment, so Hawk continues.

Hes struggling to keep his voice level and low, not wanting to draw Reader's attention while she's on the phone with Sam in the other room. "Ever since we started trying for this baby, it's like you stopped caring-"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it then?"

"I'm scared!" Robby nearly shouts. He takes a deep breath but the tears prick his eyes. "I'm not ready for this."

"Then why did you agree to it?"

"Becaude you two were so happy about it and I didn't want to get I the way of that."

"We could have waited."

Robby shakes his head. "You'd be waiting a long time then because I don't know when I'll actually be ready for all of this."

"We could have talked about it."

"This is so dumb. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"Except talk about it," Hawk says so seriously that it almost chills Robby to the bone. "Why are you so scared?"

The tears have been free falling down Robbys face the whole time but he finally breaks and cries. "I don't wanna fuck this up. I mean- I mean, what if I can't do this? What if I'm just like my dad?"

Hawk doesn't say anything and just brings Robby into his arms. He holds him while he cries for a few minutes, rubbing his back but not sure of what to say. The words also have to sink in and Hawk is reminded of how hard Robby had it for so long, and it's why he does the nonprofit work with troubled kids because he was once one of them. Hawk knows that this is hard on anyone but a new baby is especially hard on people who had it rough.

"You're not your dad, Robby," he finally says. His voice is low and soft, only loud enough for Robby to hear over his muffled cries. "You're not even half as stupid as your dad."

Robby let's out a choked out laugh. He looks up at Hawk and his tears sparkle in his eyes. "Shut up. I'm serious," he says, but he's smiling through it.

Hawk shakes his head. "So am I. Your dad fucked up over and over... and over again, but you're too smart to let that happen."

"Yeah, but how do you know I'm not gonna fuck it up?"

Hawk pulls away and holds Robby by his face, making him look up and see him. He looks him in the eyes as he tells him, "Because I see the way you work with the kids at the youth center and how hard you try to get everything done for them, get then everything they need. You're already so great with those kids, so why not our kid?"

Robby doesn't know what to say. His throat is tight and hurts like he's going to start crying again. And he does, shrugging at the question because he truly doesn't know what the difference is. He just feels it and it scares him. Hawk kisses his tears away.

That's when Reader comes in and she's so confused. She looks so cute, a little lost, unaware of what's going on. It's a type of cluelessness and innocence Robby would like to keep intact because he doesn't want to bother her with his emotions and fears. He wants her to remain happy. But he can't look at her and her soft body the same now because he knows in a few months her pudgy tummy is going to round out into a prominent baby belly. And she's going to look even hotter, which he didn't think was possible because she's already so gorgeous.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" she asks.

Robby shakes his head and smiles. And it's a true smile despite his fear. "I'm just really happy... but also scared out of my mind."

There no use in hiding his fears anymore. He knows Hawk won't hide these big feelings from her, so he tells her himself. And she pouts and comes over to him, hugging him and Hawk joins it too.

"Aww, honey, we're all a little scared," she says.

He looks at her. "But you're ready for this and I'm... I don't know if I am."

"Well, just because I said I was ready doesn't mean we're truly ready," she tells him, giggling. "It's so much to do and get ready and prepare for. You have time to get ready."

He nods gently, understanding what she's trying to say: us anyone ever really ready? He doesn't know. Maybe extremely prepared people, like Miguel and Sam, who were so elated when they found out they were having a bay that they just fell right into the prepping and planning process like pros. But they're still young, young and successful and supported by so many, they were likely only half ready.

Reader kisses Robby's cheek and smiles against his skin. "It's okay to not be ready, Robby. So long as you love us and we love you, were gonna be just fine."

He nods, unable to speak because he's scared if he does, he'll start crying again for a third time. He just basks in the hug from his partners, recharging off their energy. That's all he needs is them. And their excitement rubs off on him, making him smile when he thinks about the baby, his fears slowly fading.

And when he goes with Hawk and Reader jer first scan, they're all so excited. Though he nearly faints when he learns that they're not having just one baby, but two!

But it's okay, Hawk catches him. And he knows they're ready for this.

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 5/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003)

CHAPTER FIVE – 2004

              He spends three weeks in a submarine and it helps cement his decision to attend flight school, if they accept his application. There is of course the natural competition between everyone, it’s simply how they function, each striving to be better, make those around them better, but also support them and drag them through it if they have to. His third year at USNA wraps up and he’s facing his summer break. The entire year has gone well, no terrorist attacks, although there is definite heightened security since.

              The routine is easy now, he’s an upperclassman, has Natasha and then a smaller circle of people he considers friends, if nothing close to what he has with Natasha. He’s aware that a significant chunk of upperclassmen think that he and Natasha are together, and the one time he checks in with her about whether she’s okay with that she’d just shrugged and said it had stopped the guys expecting her to pay any of them attention. No one asks, and they never correct anyone. When they head out to have leave together no one bats an eye. When they mention having spent some of the previous summer together it’s the same.

              He finds out why Natasha doesn’t talk to her family. Teenage pregnancy. She’d refused to get married to the guy, someone she won’t even tall Bradley the name of, and the shame of either the pregnancy, or their daughter not obeying them, they’d kicked her out. Her application with USNA had already been accepted, her place guaranteed and Bradley doesn’t need to ask to realize what her decision must have been. He briefly feels awful about introducing Tamsin and Petra to her, but she seems to take great joy in chatting to them on the phone and drawing and sending them pictures, so he lets that guilt melt away.

              They’ve both been asked to return to USNA and assist as upperclassmen for Plebe Summer, something he feels immense pride in, glad to have made a good enough impression that he’s being held up as a role model to the new recruits. Of course it makes their leave almost non-existent and they decide to spend it together, which he knows will only fuel rumors that they’re a couple. They go to San Francisco for five days at the start of their leave, and he finally gets to meet Natasha’s sole family member that has anything to do with her, and the way his eyes travel up Bradley’s body leave him blushing furiously. That he’s hot doesn’t help at all.

              “Oh, it is nice to meet you,” Christopher says, shaking his hand and Bradley looks to Natasha with a raised eyebrow and she’s just shaking her head.

              “Nice to meet you too. Bradley.”

              “Mmm. I have heard a lot about you. She didn’t ever mention just how delightful you looked.”

              “Because to me, he isn’t very delightful to look at. There are nicer views.”

              “Hey!” Bradley objects, out of principle more than anything, and Natasha is already cackling and pushing past Christopher with her bags but Christopher is looking at him seriously, completely different to the over-the-top flirtation of a moment ago.

              “Oh my god. You’re…” Christopher makes a limp-wrist gesture which sends Bradley’s eyebrows up in surprise.

              “Uh. Don’t ask don’t tell…” he says, throat tight, wondering where the fuck Natasha has gone.

              “Oh honey, I am not part of your weird cultish military shit. And I wasn’t asking, I was confirming. Holy shit. No wonder Tadpole likes you so much.”

              “Tadpole?”

              “Shut up!” Natasha calls out and Bradley grins.

              “I’ll tell you the story later,” Christopher says, voice low and conspiratory and Bradley nods, hitching his bag over his shoulder. Christopher jerks his head toward where Natasha can be heard grumbling. “Sorry, only got the one guest room. She’s already claimed the bed probably, so you’re on an air mattress.”

              “That’s fine, not the worst place I’ve slept by far.”

              “You’re my guest, I’d like to hope not. I’ll let you guys get settled then we can head out and find some food.”

              He leaves Bradley at the door and Natasha is smirking at him.

              “You couldn’t have told me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

              “Sorry, his sexuality isn’t exactly something I drop into casual conversation. We’re at USNA remember. Repression is being ingrained into us.”

              “Okay, would you hate me if I asked him out?”

              “No. But his boyfriend might.”

              “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

              “They can take you clubbing. I’m sure you’ll find ways of enjoying yourself here.”

              She’s right, and she’s smug about it. During the days they do touristy things and just spend time relaxing, occasionally working out. In the evenings Christopher and his boyfriend Patrick take them dancing or clubbing. Natasha comes along once, but then tells them she doesn’t want to sit around getting hit on by anyone so instead either goes to the movies or stays at Christopher’s apartment.

              He’s spent previous weeks on leave in New York, having sex with strangers, but this is a completely different experience. One he’s not going to forget in a hurry. For a start he has never had so much sex in such a short period of time, and it’s good sex, the guys that Christopher sends his way clearly more experienced and keen to give him good experiences or teach him how to give better blow jobs. It’s like each of the guys has undergone a screening process, and when one slips that he’s an ex of Patrick’s he realizes that maybe they have been. He can’t bring himself to care, not when he’ benefitting and enjoying it all.

…           …           …

              They get to Ice’s house and there’s a welcome home party and he can’t believe how big Tamsin and Petra have grown. It’s a vastly different experience to their brief time in San Fransisco but he’s glad they have two weeks and Natasha seems to take her role as surrogate big sister seriously, the four of them watching movies, or lying around with slices of cucumber over their eyes. Sarah snaps a picture of them like that, gets it printed and gives copies to both him and Natasha, along with a pile of other photos she’s taken while they’ve been staying.

              Of course, his birthday comes and he’s twenty-one. Maverick hands over an envelope and a key and he looks at it blankly.

              “What’s this?”

              “The deed to the house. It’s to go to you on your twenty-first birthday.”

              “But… what am I going to do with a house?”

              “Live in it?”

              “But… I’ll be deployed or away…”

              “Bradley, it’s the house your parents bought. What you do with it is up to you. I’d like to still live there of course…”

              “Of course! I mean, if you’re not moving in with Ice, then of course you can stay there. It’s just… nothing has to change right? It’s just a piece of paper?”

              “It’s just a piece of paper. And we’ll help navigate any legal stuff. And we won’t be moving in together any time soon,” Ice states, voice soft, but his expression is sad and Bradley wishes things were different.

…           …           …

              Tom wants to wrap himself around Maverick and never let him go. The amount he’s been away on deployment makes every moment they have together even more precious, and he’s starting to second guess his own rules, even if they’ve kept them both safe. He has two kids and an ex-wife which is a damned good cover, even if his best friend comes and stays frequently. He isn’t telling anyone that doesn’t already know, and no one is asking him, even if they have their suspicions.

              He hates the fact that Pete is now effectively homeless, not that Bradley would ever kick him out of the house, but Tom wants him to have somewhere that is his, and maybe not his alone, but something that would just light Pete up from the inside. The way flying does. He pauses mid-thought and thinks back to a couple of years ago, the Beechcraft and the airstrip, Mav taking Bradley up in the air. Huh. Not a plane, not yet, but there were hangars out there. And a hangar beside an airstrip is probably somewhere Pete would consider living if he thought it was a legitimate option. Not that he himself would want to live beside an airstrip, but this isn’t about him.

              He makes a few calls. Then a few more calls. He’s got to consider leases, and taxes and whether it might just make more sense to rent. He doesn’t want to rent though, wants to make some sort of large gesture and present it as a fait accompli that gives Maverick no wiggle-room to turn it down. He feels pretty confident it wouldn’t be turned away regardless, unless Mav was feeling particularly difficult on the day. Then he gets a call, someone had heard he was looking, and it’s an old Navy hangar, located at the very same airstrip and it feels serendipitous and he agrees to come out and have a look.

…           …           …

              Of course, with how much mentoring he’s doing with the Plebes come the questions, and he remembers his conversation with Ice, a couple of years ago now. When they ask him questions about his parents he simply pulls a face and shakes his head, ignores his own peers, fellow Firsts, who he can see from the corner of his eye who were shaking their heads at the Plebes, trying to stop them from simply asking.

              “My dad was a naval aviator who died in a Top Gun training incident in eighty-six and my mom died of cancer in ninety-four. I was raised by my step-father after that. Any other awkward questions you want answers to?”

              It’s probably why they never ask him or Natasha anything, and another First slaps the Plebe on the back, mutters I tried to warn you off asking but he doesn’t feel upset about it at all. It’s not at all a lie, even if his step-father would be here in a heartbeat if Bradley needed him to be. He knows that both Ice and Mav intend to attend his graduation in formal roles, and while they might night get to acknowledge their roles with each other in such a formal setting he doesn’t care. They want to be there and they’re planning to be there, special leave already requested and granted long ago, considering they’ll be in uniform.

              He and Natasha both work hard, both at their studies and also on their physical fitness. Their applications for flight school were submitted months ago, he really wants to go with her, can’t imagine not going without her. They’re both consistently in the top two or five percent, which he knows bodes well for them. Knows that their involvement with extra curriculars and being friendly with pretty much everyone has them well liked and respected. He just has to be patient and wait.

…           …           …

              They both look at the envelopes, slapping them on empty palms. They look identical, but unlike his USNA acceptance letter, this is a single piece of paper and it could be flight school acceptance, or a decline.

              “On the count of three?” Natasha asks and Bradley admires her courage.

              “Yeah. Three.”

              They rip them open.

…           …           …

              “I knew it!” Maverick screams, his joy palpable through the phone for their Saturday afternoon call. “Ice! Ice! He got in! Hold on, let me put you on speaker…”

              “Of course he did… well done Bradley. Congratulations.”

              He blows out a long breath, because he’s glad they have seemingly unshakeable confidence in his abilities. God, he never wants to disappoint them.

              “Thanks. Natasha got in as well.”

              “She’s a very capable young woman. Proud of you both. Please pass that on to her.”

              “Yeah, thanks. I will.”

              “Yeah, we’re both very proud. You can go back to work now. I’m going to go outside and talk to my godson…”

              He hears Ice mutter something in the background, not clear enough to make out, but then Mav is telling him off for rolling his eyes and he can just imagine what he said, the gentle laughter between them and he can’t help but smile.

              “So. did Ice tell you he bought me a hangar?”

              “He did what?” Bradley asks, because such a move seems like something Mav would make, rather than Ice.

              “He bought me a hangar. Said that I was obviously always welcome wherever he was, but that he knew I needed my own place and that I now had a space for the plane I’ve been eyeing up.”

              “You’ve been eying up a plane? Wait. A hangar. For you to live in? What about the house? You aren’t moving out are you?”

              “No. Of course not. But I’m going to be there as often as you are, probably less considering Ice has become a lot more, uh, relaxed about his stupid sleepover rules. The hangar isn’t currently habitable anyway. But there’s this P-51 Mustang I’ve been looking at. It’s beautiful.”

              “He proposed to you with an aircraft hangar. Oh my god, that’s so… romantic and practical of him.”

              “He didn’t propose.”

              “Mav. If a guy bought me an aircraft hangar what would you think about the guy?”

              “That he was crazy in love with you, and utterly committed… oh shit. I’ll call you back.”

              He is not surprised when he doesn’t get called back.

…           …           …

              He hadn’t expected it.

              They hadn’t warned him.

              The emotions of the day, coupled with the fact that they’d asked every single member of the 1986 Top Gun class there, along with a few other friends of both his parents. He clearly has the biggest cheering section and he feels like a mess inside, although outwardly he’s all smiles and calm togetherness. Four years of training helps with that at least. Ice and Mav are both up on the stage, part of the VIP section, along with several others who are still serving, and he recognizes them from his birthday a couple of years ago.

              “Did you know they were all going to be here?” Natasha asks, and he shakes his head, throat working against the tightness of his collar.

              There are photos, Ice agreeing to so many photos with newly minted graduates and Bradley lets them all go, fights his way through the crowds to find Mav. He and Ice can stage photos later, there will always be times when they’re in uniform. Just the fact that they’re here is more than enough and he’s so happy that he has had them supporting him every step of the way.

              “Captain Mitchell.”

              “Midshipman Bradshaw. Congratulations. Your father would be very proud. I flew with him you know?”

              Bradley blinks.

              Blinks again.

              Hopes his internal dialogue somehow is being telepathically beamed into Mav’s head.

              You are such a dick. Hopefully his expression does enough to convey his exasperation.

              “Really? I didn’t know that sir.”

              Mav gives him a shit-eating grin and Bradley wishes Ice were there to hit him around the head. Not that he would, not in this setting, but damn he sees why he’s always so tempted.

              “I’m going to have a photo with all the graduates who are going to be heading off to Corpus Christi for flight school. I think they want us over there.”

              It’s chaos. Positive and energetic happiness with everyone feeling the sense that they’re about to begin their careers, that they’ve made it through what is meant to be the hardest part, even if Bradley secretly thinks flight school might be even more challenging, it’s only for eighteen months. He manages to get photos with Maverick, Natasha and Ice and nearly every available combination. Then there are photos with the 1986 class, and he ignores the fact that several of the other men seem to shed a tear.

              Then it’s dispersing, the crowd thinning and families are gathering, taking more photos and he can see Sarah pushing through, the hands of Tamsin and Petra clasped and he grins, starts heading toward them, already thinking that Tamsin has grown a couple of inches, can see both his sisters pulling Sarah toward them before she decides to let them go.

              “Natasha! Natasha!” Petra screams, and she’s running across the quad, hair streaming behind her with gold and navy ribbons mixed in, running past him and Natasha is grinning broadly, bending down to swoop Petra up in a hug. Bradley stands back up from where he’d been just about to scoop her up himself before she’d breezed past him.

              “Wow,” he says to Sarah as she comes to a stop to stand beside him.

              “Hurts doesn’t it?” Sarah says, not really asking and Bradley nods, murmuring a quiet yeah under his breath. He doesn’t begrudge Natasha the joy and love of his sisters, love isn’t in finite supply, it’s just a little hurtful to not even warrant a hello. He has to remind himself that Petra is only seven.

              “I love you Bradley,” Tamsin says, arms coming around his waist to give him a hug, as if she can tell how he’s feeling and he hugs her back.

              “Love you too Tam.”

              “You’re dressed up all fancy like Daddy and Papa.”

              “Yeah. You look pretty fancy in your dress too. Is that new?”

              “Yep. Mom bought is especially for today!”

              “We can look fancy together.”

              “Congratulations Bradley, we’re all very proud of you.”

              “Thanks.”

              “Are you proud of me? I go to school too,” Tamsin says, and Sarah looks heavenward and Bradley wonders if she’s been fielding questions like this for a while.

              “I’m proud of you, going to school can be really hard work somedays,” Bradley says.            

              “Daddy!” Tamsin says, and then Ice is there, pressing his cheek against Sarah’s in greeting and nodding at Bradley again.

              “Bradley! Up!” Petra demands, appearing at his side and Natasha is grinning.

              “Hello to you too Miss Petra, happy to be of service.”

              There are a few people doing a double take as they see who he is standing with, who he is clearly family with, but he cares less now. He’s finished here, no one can claim he played any favoritism card. He knows flight school will be different, wants to be in the air as soon as possible.

              He can’t wait.

CHAPTER SIX (2005)

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 420 rant

New chapter new rant it's become somewhat of a thing at this point 😭

So hori's out here deflating any stakes or tension as always. I personally hated what happend last chapter with Izuku losing both his arms but I did wish for hori to continue on the path he chose instead of completely reversing it with some bs in this chapter. Heck I don't understand how Eri even had enough energy to heal his arms considering it was stated chapters before that she couldn't and shouldn't help Izuku it wasn't her fight and neither should she be forced to watch what's going on but here we are.

Heroes are hypocrites when it comes to Eri and she deserves better. Oh Eri the ever so lasting plot device. As someone that likes Eri's character and wished for her trauma and what she went through to be explored this is just bs and shows that the heroes are incompetent hypocrites at their jobs for allowing Eri to mutilate herself (the same thing overhaul did to himself) so she can be useful to these people who she views as her saviours?!?!?! Let's not even tall about the fact that ECTOPLASM stated that he helped her with that and allowed her to do that like?!?!? You're an adult who is supposed to be supervising the child and you almost failed to stop her from running away into the battlefield but allowed her to do that to herself. Let's also talk about how aizawa horribly failed as a guardian like its clearly stated in the chapter that she did want she did because she was inspired by aizawa and how he cut his leg off so she mimicked him so she can be helpful?!?! Aizawa isn't angry, worried or disappointed but shocked and that's it nothing else he doesn't even reprimand her like seriously 😑.

Present mic and kurogiri deserves better. We still don't know where present mic is but he deserves better than this I still hate how his feelings aren't acknowledged in this bs and he is just there pushed to the side as support. Kurogiri is a mix at this point they seem to realise that oh oboro is dead he ain't coming back but kurogiri is acting on memories that haven't died and to be honest Iam sick of hori drawing the same memory panel over and over we should just get new content show us them play fighting or doing something that friends do idk 🤷‍♀️

Wasted potential aizawa at this point. I lasted made a post about aizawas wasted potential but dam does it really show and basically at this point hori reduced all the characters involved in the kurogiri situation to just that and it's sad like we could of had more and we should of. Aizawa was doomed from the start as he was hori's mouthpiece which sucks

Iam not a fan of everyone coming in to fight AFO. I already hate the fact that AFO is back but having everyone who hasn't had a big moment or can still fight yet come into the fight is horrible. Iam ok with having a few characters come in but having some endgame avengers type of thing is horrible especially because class 1A and izuku aren't shown to have a strong bond a lot of the time it's one of the reasons why the vigilante arc fails and why a lot of other moments concerning class 1A and izuku fail.

Iam a fan of the civilians trying to help however they can but no inko?!?!!?!!. I loved that we got the page of civilians genuinely wanting to help Izuku and offering their shirts to stop the bleeding also even though we don't get much from the all might guy I genuinely loved the development he has gone through. Sadly, I was expecting to see inko in this chapter and considering we had a whole page dedicated to the civilians it's sad that we didn't get any update on inko as she was probably there watching what happend to her son

Eri's dream. I loved that Eri's dream is something way outside of heroics and it's something that doesn't involve her quirk at all. It makes me remember of izuku holding her hand and telling her that he supports her dream. I wonder if Eri and jirou hang out often or anything considering that jirou is Eri's inspiration or if present mic also inspired Eri. it's sad that Eri's character is never truly explored considering what happend to her this chapter and the double standards that are with both heroes and villains.

ALSO MONOMA YOU DESERVE BETTER YALL TELLING ME THAT DENKI ALREADY QUIRK EXHAUSTED IS OUT HERE FIGHTING BUT MONOMA CANT FOR SOME REASON IS VILE

[skinandscales-if]

I want atlas to touch my face, furrow his brow a little and then gently kiss my blind eye

Over the length of time you’ve known him, you’ve noted the Frostspitter never really melts. Softens, maybe. Loosens up around the edges just enough to make all of his sharp edges look less like the sharp icicles they are. That’s why you believe it’s a trick of the light when he does it this time, a softened look in his usual steely gaze as he gently holds your face. You haven’t said a word. It’d probably break the moment, you think. Maybe shatter it like glass. You’d wish that would shatter the frost in his expression, but you worry it’d only make things worse. Atlas, for his part, hasn’t said anything either, carefully eyeing you over like you’re the one that he’s worried about shattering, not him. It’s a fragile moment, then. Delicate.

When you watch his stare slowly move over to your blind eye, you sense that delicate nature harden slightly. Stiffen. He doesn’t tighten his grip on you, but you see the instinct to. You frown slightly, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. You don’t think so lowly of him to discount you because of your partial blindness, but the sudden attention to it draws your nerves. Your hesitance. There’s a moment of silence, to the point where you really are considering breaking the moment, but you don’t get to before he speaks first.

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

What?

Your body stiffens a bit, taken aback by the words used. His voice was hushed, a bit intense, and he’s glancing between your eyes with the same seriousness you’d expect from a knight taking an oath. You wonder if he would speak so confidently to anyone else. He doesn’t know your situation, not entirely. Doesn’t know how you lost sight in this eye, if you ever had it to begin with. So why he speaks with such gravity and certainty is beyond you, but it sure as hell reassures you. Atlas may not know what weight he speaks upon half of the time, but he never shies from the confidence in making sure it doesn’t make you suffer. He’s stupid for that. For the confidence and the self-assured nature in something he knows only little about.

“I swear.”

But when he swears, and you feel it reverberating through your chest, you know that it is as genuine as it is foolish. And you can’t help but love him for it. This stupid, risky love he has for you. It is everything he isn’t. And you’ll let him be stupid for a bit longer, as long as it keeps him here, leaning down to softly kiss your face. Foolish.

[ithebookhoarder]

Marc and Steven with a Murdock? Like Daredevil?? If you want, of course ❤️🖤

The Moon Boys with a Murdock!Reader

A/N: Of course I want to! 😆 I'm only sorry it took me so long to answer this. However, I seem to be on a roll today - I can't believe I've got two requests out?! Like, who even am I?

Masterlist

As you said with a Murdock, I’m going with a sibling vibe here which would be pretty adorable anyway as Matt would be such a good brother if he’d ever had the chance.

He would be incredibly close with you and take his role as your protector as seriously as he takes his role as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

You’re the only one he lets know his true self as you’ve been through everything he has. You’ve shared the happiest and saddest moments of your lives together and the bond it forged is as strong as vibranium.

It holds you both together, not matter what you go through or where you end up - including when you both end up at colleges on opposite sides of the country. 

You’re extremely careful to never let him pull too far away from you, even when he gets in one of his moods. In fact, you’re sure to turn up and let yourself in to his apartment when he goes too quiet and even Foggy can’t seem to pull him out of the darkness that haunts him. 

It’s why you don’t run away when the Moon Boys come crashing in to your lives. The chaos that seems to follow them and their fears that they are too much for you is honestly familiar. Every attempt to push you away only makes you draw nearer - first as a friend, later as something more. 

You’d probably meet Moon Knight first around New York. I mean, it's kind of hard not to come across him, given what Matt does and how chaos seems to find its way into your lives.

He'd be the latest adoptee into the Defenders / New York 'Avengers reject club' (your name for the gang, not theirs...) so you'd quickly end up involved in each other's lives.

You'd bond pretty quickly, once you get to know one another without the personas and danger. After all, I think Steven would be eager to find friends who aren't necessarily supers and just like to drink coffee, read novels and go to the dog park at the weekend.

He'd be super keen to get to know you. You're one of the only people who get what their life is like, but also have a foot in the real world.

You'd win over Marc later on, wearing him down with your positivity and unwavering optimism (and also Steven will not shut up about you).

You're not afraid of the darker parts of their world, and become a much needed safe space for Marc, once he lets his guard down.

For instance, you'd be great at patching him up - having had enough practise on Matt over the years. You're also used to having someone nocturnal in the house, coming and going at all hours of the night. Plus, you can obviously be trusted to keep a secret or two.

If anything, Marc's only reluctant to let you get close to him as he doesn't want to taint you. To ruin something so bright and wonderful by dragging you into his darkness.

If Matt's ok with putting you in danger, then that's up to him as your brother. You're family. But for Marc and Steven to do that? It's a line they're unwilling to cross... until you prove to them you aren't going anywhere. That you can handle yourself and that you're already in this mess anyway, so why shouldn't you both be happy?

From that moment on, there's no looking back for any of you. You're leaping in to this together head first, and soon enough you can't imagine life any other way.

Matt, however, can.

Let's be real, he wouldn’t be the biggest fan of Steven and Marc. In fact, he’d be pretty against your relationship the minute he finds out about it. 

One, because he thinks no one is worthy of you.

Two, because he hates the idea of you getting hurt or being in danger and being in a relationship with multiple people who all serve an ancient Egyptian deity as his personal vigilante is the very definition of dangerous. 

"I... I can't even begin to understand how you could possibly think this is a good idea? At all? He - they - are literally the puppets of an Egyptian god - a GOD, Y/N. You don't want to get in the middle of all that?"

You quickly remind him how he gave a similar speech to Karen when he found out about her and Frank Castle seeing each other, and that didn't work. Last time you checked, they're still blissfully in love.

"Besides, Matthew! You're the one who goes running around at night, getting in fights, wearing a glorified halloween costume. Like, I am the SANE sibling here. ALSO! Marc and Steven were forced into their situation. They didn't go looking for it like a crazy nut job. So, yeah. I think if anything, you don't have a leg to stand on here!"

Matt would be able to sense who was fronting the moment they appeared. He’d be able to recognise them from the way their heart is beating and their mannerisms the second they stepped through the door, which is helpful but also incredibly unsettling. 

Steven would brush it off, seeing it as Matt just being a kind brother to you. However, I think Marc would have more of a problem with Matt’s hostility, and enhanced senses. It puts him on edge to know they are being so closely scrutinised. 

They also have the same temperament so I can imagine there will be more than a few clashes in the beginning, their similar brusque natures making it hard for them to not bump heads. 

However, after Matt learns about Marc’s DID and his childhood trauma I think he’d be more sympathetic. After all, you both didn’t have the easiest childhood either. 

He also knows what it’s like to live with a condition that can make your life harder but also makes you unique. 

According to the comics, both of them are known to be good detectives and also keen boxers. I can totally see them building a reluctant respect for one another after they realise they have more in common than just their love for you. 

In fact, I know you’d have to pull them out of the ring after Marc agrees to a sparring match with the famous ‘Devil’. The pair of them would get a weird pleasure from trying to beat the other to a pulp - they don’t often find someone evenly matched to have a friendly bout or two with. 

At least it would once again prove to Matt that your boys could definitely take care of you if you ever needed it. 

Matt would definitely be sure to offer his legal advice whenever he’s concerned you both might be skating on thin ice with the law. Apparently, ‘I’m being controlled by an Ancient Egyptian God’ hasn’t ever been tried as a legal defence in the American justice system before… and Matt is oddly willing to try it. 

[silversweetpea]

A Promise Made

word count: 1543

Summary: It dawns on him, in that moment, that you are much more fragile than he had expected. And equally so that this revelation unsettles him.

Warnings: Offscreen injury mentions, Reader gets lightheaded and slightly dizzy from blood loss. 

Author’s Note: It is four am and I would like to imagine a bit of a protective situation as a bedtime story thanks. Also I’m not sure how I feel about this writing because I’m worried that the style is too similar to other writings i’ve done but again, it’s four am, I don’t know if I can trust my own opinions here. 

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿

Dream was a difficult man shaped amalgamation to read, but that never stopped you from trying. Telling the difference between jaw clench of amusement and jaw clench of anger never got easier in the months since Johanna had called in an old favor for some help and you had met him, but you had  a feeling you knew what emotion it was that darkened his gaze in this moment.

“I’m fine.” You said again, and you had to commend yourself on keeping the shake from your voice. The nightmare hadn’t seriously hurt you, part of you wondered if it would have though had Dream not found you when he did. Splitting up had seemed like a good idea at the time, it had made more sense to cover more ground, ask more people who they may or may not know the locations of. Even nightmares had friends, after all. 

Dream hadn’t moved an inch in the chair beside your bed since you woke swaddle in the comforters. You didn’t know the details of what had happened after you passed out, there was just a vague memory of fear and then safety. 

“Dream-” His gaze didn’t move from the bandages across your chest. A precaution, nothing more, but the wrappings were large enough to peek up under the collar of your shirt. There was a thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you that was gone as quick as it came when he spoke.

“When you are healed, I will have Mathew escort you home. Your assistance is no longer required.” The safety you had felt was a distant memory replaced with a chill.

“Excuse me?”

“I will find the rogue nightmare on my own.” Dream stood, eyes snapping shut. There was something in his features, or maybe the way that he held himself, that made your entire being bristle.

“The whole reason you asked Johanna for help was because you couldn’t.” Your body ached ever so slightly as you forced yourself into a sitting position. The sound of the bed creaking seemed to startle him, those eyes you had such complicated feelings for finally meeting yours. “This is ridiculous I’ve been more than helpful in this whole ordeal and you’re going to just send me home because of a scratch?”

“(y/n),” He took a step closer to the bed, hand reaching up as if to usher you back down to rest. A motion that never quite finished as his hand hovered in the space between you. It took you only another second to force yourself to your feet and enter his personal space.

“No, I want to see this through. I told you I would help and I’m going to.” You had never thought of the king of dreams and nightmares as a particularly intimidating person. Sure, he was brooding, but in a wet cat sort of way. Tall and lanky and dark, yet never scary, not when you had seen him so gentle with his friends.

“I do not want your help, nor do I need it any longer.” The words that should sting instead make you scoff. You were nearly toe to toe with him now, the hand that had hovered so noncommittedly in the air still airborne. 

“And why’s that? Did you suddenly find her while I was passed out here?” It occurred to you for the first time that Dream was taller than he had ever been. He seemed to tower over you. It was harder to ignore the chill you felt this time than when you had been wrapped in blankets. “Or maybe the asshole that tried to kill me had a bit more information than I thought and you know exactly where she is now?”

“This is not up for discussion.” His narrowed gaze draws out a scoff. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You can choose not to work with me but I’m going to help you.” The room spins ever so slightly as you turn to leave the room. You weren’t sure where you were going to go yet but you were sure you would figure it out as you went. The library maybe? Lucienne was busy but she knew more about the kingdom than anyone right now.

You had barely made it to the door before you could feel the soft pressure of a hand around your wrist.

“It would help me more,” Dream’s voice was soft and strained. As if the things he was saying pained him to put to words. “to know that you are safe.”

The room spins slightly harder and it occurs to you that maybe the nightmare had gouged you a bit more than you thought. The turn to face him is slower than any you have ever made and behind you you can glimpse the window. It isn’t quite raining out but the sky is unnaturally dark, clouds swirling like the stars in his eyes.

“What?” You can’t remember if blood loss can cause you to mishear people. You don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself even if it’s not. 

“I could not protect you in my realm. How can I trust in my ability to do the same outside of it?” The silence feels deafening, like a creature with its own presence trying to pry the two of you apart. You try not to focus on its weight, however, instead distinctly aware of the fact that Dream is still holding your wrist. His touch is cooler than you had thought it would be but not quite unpleasant. In fact its quite the opposite. 

“And you think sending me away will keep me safer than if I stayed with a literal king of dreams and nightmares? Really?” Your voice tremors and your skin feels electric from the contact. You want to rip your hand from his grasp and take his hand in both of your own at the same time. “Do you know how many beings out there would love to catch me alone right now?”

“You will not be alone, you will have Constantine.” Dream’s voice was barely more than a whisper. You wouldn’t think his lips had moved at all had you not been watching his face so carefully. 

"You’re being an idiot,” The clouds are darker now, you hadn’t thought it possible but the sky seems to be absorbing the light that tries to warm it. 

“You need to rest.” For the first time since you met Dream seems to be genuine in asking instead of assuming you will follow through with what he says. It almost makes up for the way that his eyes flit to your point of connection and slowly releases his grasp.

“Do you promise to be here when I wake up?” The bedroom is suffocatingly small in this moment, not helped by the waves of nausea rushing over your person. 

“Why must you be so obstinate?” For what is meant to be an insult, Dream’s gaze and and tone are softer than one would expect. Or maybe not. For all the times the two of you have bickered you’re not sure you can remember ever hearing any sort of heat in his words towards you.

“Its the only way I can get you to notice me.” Usually your remark would earn you a slight smile, maybe a particularly strong exhale if Dream is particularly amused. Now though, you see only concern.

“I notice you regardless of your temperament.” You’re not even aware you’re reaching out until the man startles ever so slightly. Heaviness weighs upon your body and your grip tightens just barely. Just enough to try and pull him back from the way his thoughts visibly surround him.

“Dream,”  Blue eyes search your own but you’re not sure what he’s looking for. His height is returning to that which you’re familiar with and its strange to see. To watch him shrink and soften before you all the while holding his hand in your grasp. Even as Dream nods, a just barely there movement you’re not even sure of at first, you think that he looks better this way. Familiar is good on him. So is Kind.

It’s easier to lean into him than you had thought it would be. The hand you insist on holding begins to gently steer you both back towards the bed, his free hand circling to hover over your lower back.

“Rest, we can continue this conversation when you awaken.” You’re scared to loose contact with him in case your...whatever Dream is at this point, will slip away in a moments notice. Even as he convinces you to sit you’re not entirely convinced that he’s not just waiting for a moment to usher you back to the waking.

“Do you promise?” Its your turn to whisper as you allow him to help you back to bed. For a heart stopping moment he stands at your bedside and you think he’s leaving. 

And then, the chair is pulled closer to the bed, enough so that his knees touch the side of the mattress when he sits.

“I give you my word.” Dream’s voice is warm and soothing as hot chocolate on a winter night and from the window behind you you notice sunlight begin to filter through the window. 

[strobichie]

just sae.

♡⸝⸝ summary: poor you decided to replay ddlc, but something seems wrong... why is monika sae?

little note: bachira is sayori, rin is natsuki, and isagi is yuri!!

your perspective:

i had recently gotten a new computer, there are so many things i still need to work with and customise to my liking.

so, to cure my boredom, i'm installing ddlc again and replaying it!

my favourite character is natsuki, i absolutely loved how adorable and relatable she just is. she reminded me of one of the kids i babysat.

after installing the win files i extracted them all and started the game up, as usual, i see the 4 dokis on the main screen on startup.

i entered my name of choice and started the game ---

wait, bachira??? FROM BLUE LOCK??

why was he sayori? not gonna lie, his sprites are really cute, but how..??

i re-checked the website i downloaded the game from but it displayed the 4 dokis there and there was nothing wrong..

huh, why am i being scared?

i should be grateful, honestly.

i've been blessed by the gods above!! for once i'm fucking lucky!

no way was i gonna pass up the opportunity to interact with my favourite anime characters especially since they somehow ended up in my favourite childhood game..!

i wonder who natsuki, yuri, and monika would be, though?

this is interesting! as i progress even more reading the dialogues and clicking on the chat box, after a few minutes of suffering i finally got to the literature club with bachira!

"seriously, a girl? way to be a killjoy." rin... RIN?!?!?!?!?!

OH MY GOD RIN IS SO HOT? HIS ATTRACTIVENESS SCALE WENT TO 100 TO 1000 SO QUICK!!

wait.. could that mean ---

ISAGI IS YURI!! YES!! MY FAVOURITES ALL IN ONE ROOM!!

i hope monika is kaiser or even better, anri..!!

gosh this got me feelin' so giddy and chipper in the early fucking morning..

i skipped a few of the dialogues, and abruptly stopped when a certain person came into view.

...sae? really?

what an eyesore. i hate sae, of all people, why sae?

sure he was similar to monika, but only in appearance. kaiser or anri could have been able to fulfill this role.

i sighed in annoyance, at least i have rin and the others...

i continuously skipped many dialogues and had finally gotten to the part where sayori, or in this situation bachira, hangs himself..

right, this was a horror game after all. did i really forget about the main plot?

i stared at the screen with an obvious frown. rin and isagi are next..

and the person behind all this was saeshit. ugh, seriously... well, good thing i can just delete his files at any given time.

progressing through the story even further, i got a special poem and cringed at the 'drawing'. it was bachira hanging in a humorous manner.

this was unfortunate.

i clicked on the chat box endlessly, wanting to speedrun to the moments of all my favourite characters deaths..

seeing rin crack his neck and isagi stab himself looking like a crazed maniac broke my heart. good things don't last.. this will probably be the last time i'll ever be able to play this version of the game.

then, here sae was, fuck was he smiling for?

"let me take a quick one of rin's cupcakes, these such are really good for a brother so shitty and nasty." i scoffed and gritted my teeth in anger, sae was clearly the asshole in their brother-ship.

i was met face-to-face with sae, i pursed my lips and stared at my computer screen.

"it's nice to talk to you even if it's by a dialogue box." is this even real?

"i know that you're thinking: is this legitimate? to answer your question, yes it is. i became self aware after everything in that god damn manga and anime called blue lock, i felt sick and tired of not being able to show up in the manga after a long period of time. somehow, i found a way to break the barrier between the fictional animanga world and reality as you call it." that was a mouthful. he was pretty talkative now. my burning hatred for sae cooled down a bit as he spoke more ---

"i found this 'cutesy romance horror' game and it had all the things i needed in order to cross over to the real world. this version of the game only exists on your desktop, {user}. is {user} even your name? are you even a girl?" he shot me a confused expression.

"honestly, i don't care anymore. even i started falling in love with you. i thought i wasn't capable of love, just like the original character monika, i fell in love with you." this sent a shiver down my spine, i sweat-dropped and continued reading his dialogues.

"you read that right, i love you. even if i'm not real, i love you. i won't ever let you leave me. i'll kill you even if you think of it." he coldly stated and i opened my file explorer, ready to delete his character file --- huh.. why couldn't i delete it?

"i'm disappointed, why would you wanna try to delete me? i love you, you should be grateful i love you." but i hated sae, i hate him!

"i've been practicing for a while, i think i can finally break the laws of physics and rules of nature between our worlds." uhm, does he even know what the fuck's he saying?

"i'll see you soon, goodbye {name}. i love you." HOW DID HE GET MY NAME? DID HE HACK INTO MY COMPUTER BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK..?!?!?!

i was scared shitless, jesus christ, just what did he mean by all that? i force shut down my computer and rolled to my bed covering myself in my blankets. time to go back to sleep after that eventful experience.

short little fic, should i make a part two?

finally made a part 2!