#it looks like it could have one. since i didn't have to actively draw the lack of bit it didn't even cross my mind that it could be there

[temporalreverie]

oh i didn't think about this being ambiguous until drawing over that horse pic but the headpiece of Carrie Go-Round's carousel tack actually is actually more of a halter, not a bridle. the gold circle next to the corner of her mouth is just a thin disc on each side to attach the straps together the way a ring would (but visually simpler lol, she already has enough going on), rather than a metal bar that goes in the mouth. otherwise how would she have conversations & give ponies life advice with a bit in her mouth, lol.

she doesn't have a bit, reins, or a loop where on could attach reins because strongly channeling carousel magic is about letting her destiny guide her from internally, rather than something external like the rider having control. the purpose of the outfit is a mix of various things:

partially practical for giving horsieback rides with the saddle

partially aesthetic to give the carousel vibes

partially a work uniform mindset thing

partially comforting and grounding for anxiety like a weighted blanket/thundershirt

and overall helps her channel magic due to each of these

it isn't so much that the physical parts of the tack are inherently magical artifacts (it's just a quality custom made outfit), but rather all of the aforementioned reasons contribute to her having a focused mentality and/or being aligned with carousels.

[drunk-person]

Healing Kisses

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After an injury on a normal day of training, Aemond Targaryen has difficulty understanding what it feels like to be cared for by his sweet wife, mainly because he is not used to receiving healing kisses.

WARNING: +18. Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and and a little bit of hot, Aemond trying to understand feelings, a bit of blood, basically a lot of softness, no description for the reader.

Word cont: 2.600 k

Author's note: Ok, I was minding my own business and this story just slipped my mind and ended up on my phone. I hope you guys like our guy trying to understand what love is hahaha 💕💕💕.

It had been about two months since Lady Y/n had gotten married, to Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the first day she saw him, she found him a disturbing man, with his silver hair, the black eye patch over one eye, the marked jaw that looked like it could cut the tips of her fragile fingers. He always seemed to be watching everything going on around him with trained eyes that she swore could see right through her.

Y/n's mother had prepared her her entire life for marriage, but not for a marriage with Aemond. Nothing was as she expected, since her husband seemed to have his own way of doing things, always silent and taciturn, just muttering from time to time, and most of the time she couldn't even decipher what he was saying, she didn't even know if he was speaking the same language as her at times.

The most unexpected thing of all, considering how reserved he normally behaved, was the fact that he liked to touch her when they were together in the martial chambers. Y/n felt her skin boiling every night with every touch he directed at her, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but always firmly squeezing her waist, hips and breasts. Always doing things to her that Lady Y/n had not thought possible until marriage, and that just the mere thought of it made her blush and feel her skin heat up. The way he lay against her back after having poured himself inside her to the last drop and kept squeezing her breasts in a languid and soft way made her shiver.

But Y/n wasn't satisfied. She couldn't accept the fact that her Husband had such passionate touches for her at night, but didn't let her get close to him during the day, either physically or emotionally. Y/n respected him in that regard, aiming for nothing more than to be a good and obedient wife, but she wouldn't give up so easily. And with this in mind, she began to try to include herself in Aemond's daily activities and personal tastes.

Reading about the history of his ancestors, observing his favorite foods, sewing his clothes personally and even reading an old book she found in the library written by a maester who promised to teach Valyrian to even the most obtuse person. Which only made her feel even more foolish since she didn't understand a thing.

One of the best parts of trying to include herself in her husband's daily routine was watching his daily training, she usually did it in the morning after breakfast and even after a whole month watching him fight she still hadn't gotten used to the fact that he was so good, the sword seemed like an extension of his own arm and she had to restrain herself from sighing a few times while admiring him.

Until one particularly boring afternoon she decided to go down to the courtyard, since the library was very stuffy and she heard a maid saying that Aemond was fighting with Sir Criston Cole. As soon as she arrived, she leaned on the windowsill along with some other ladies, smiling as she watched her husband a little below, but the smile died on her lips a few minutes later when Aemond didn't dodge fast enough and Cole's blade wounded him in the left shoulder, drawing blood and staining the knight's sword.

Y/n's eyes widened when she saw her husband's blood and she felt her stomach churn. Aemond put his hand to his wounded shoulder and frowned, then returned to the fight furiously, disarming Cole, who apologized to the prince, but said that it wouldn't have happened if he had kept his guard up and focused.

Aemond just put away his own sword and walked with long strides into the Keep. Y/n could barely see what was in front of her, she just walked towards her husband with her eyes burning with concern.

-Husband! - She tried to reach him, but Aemond was walking too fast towards his own chambers. - Husband, please wait! Your arm is injured, you need to go see a maester!

Aemond entered the chambers, leaving the door open as he passed, as his wife followed closely behind.

-It was just a scratch, wife. - Aemond stated as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. - I'm going to be fine, it doesn't even hurt.

-Husband, if you're not going to let the maester look at this wound, at least let me take care of you! - She begged in a very worried voice, approaching him.

And with a snort, valuing his peace of mind, Aemond removed his doublet and undershirt, which had bloodstains at the site of the wound.

-By the gods, husband! - Y/n's eyes widened when she saw his shoulder. - How can you tell me this is just a scratch?

-Sit down here! - She pushed him down onto the chair with a very stern voice, and Aemond frowned - she had never used such a tone with him, always gentle and submissive to his wishes. - Don't move, I'll get hot water and an herbal ointment.

A little while later she returned with a basin full of water and a tray filled with things that a maid had brought. And Aemond watched with a very serious frown as she leaned over him with a clean, damp cloth, cleaning the coagulated blood with a very concentrated look on her face.

He barely realized that she had spoken to him, completely lost in what was happening.

- Husband? - She called him a little closer, stopping to clean the wound.

- Mmmm? - Aemond looked at her slightly confused when he finally realized that she was talking to him.

-I asked him if by chance it hurts. - She smiled, now using her usual sweet and gentle voice and Aemond didn't know why his belly warmed, but not with the excitement that had become so common in the last two months whenever he was near his wife, but with an unknown feeling.

- No. - He shook his head slowly as he answered. - I don't feel anything.

Nothing but a tingling where her warm and soft hand rested.

- Are you sure, husband? - Her look was doubtful as she frowned, Aemond just nodded and she continued her work. As soon as she finished cleaning the area, she left a few soft kisses on the wound and Aemond felt that a rope had pulled him through his navel at that moment.

-W-What are you doing? - He ended up stuttering unintentionally as he formed the sentence, feeling the skin where his wife was touching him warm as if she had touched him with a hot coal.

-Healing kisses. - She murmured simply against his heated and slightly reddened skin. - To help you heal faster.

Aemond frowned with his eyes slightly pressed together, enjoying that unfamiliar sensation in a strange way.

-And do they work? - He asked as if he suddenly had no control over his own tongue and felt very stupid for it as soon as he spoke.

-I believe so. - She smiled at him, leaving one last kiss at the end of the open wound, and Aemond felt less stupid for some reason after that.

-I'm going to apply the herbal ointment, okay? - She walked to the table, picking up one of the clay pots with a greenish, pasty mixture inside. - The maester said it should burn.

With a delicacy that Aemond had never felt in his entire life, she deposited the ointment on the open wound and gradually spread it with her fingertips, showing a look of implacable concentration on her face as if this were something of extreme importance.

Aemond hated wandering hands on him, hated receiving treatment from the maesters with their rough and hard touches, but with his wife it was different, the touches were so sweet and gentle that they were making him drowsy. And when she left more kisses after finishing applying the green ointment he thought that his mind had left his body and gone to another dimension.

-Mmmm.

-I hurt you? - She sounded very worried as she brought her right hand to the side of his face.

-Not at all. - He practically sighed, laying his head against her hand, and Y/n felt her heart warm when she had that reaction of familiarity from him.

-You need to take a bath, husband. - She stroked his cheek with her thumb, enjoying the moment where she was allowed to, smiling sweetly at him. - And after that I move on to another herb that the maester sent.

Aemond agreed, just nodding positively, feeling his whole body as if it were pleasantly numb as he walked towards the bathtub full of warm water on the other side of the rooms. And making him feel even lighter Y/n untied the front of his pants, blushing slightly as she helped him get completely undressed.

With a sideways smile at seeing his wife's reaction to his nudity, Aemond entered the bathtub, murmuring in satisfaction with the temperature of the water.

Y/n, her face still warm, knelt at the foot of the bathtub and gently massaged his uninjured shoulder, leaving sweet kisses there.

-This shoulder is not hurt. - Aemond spoke to her in a soft voice for the first time, making her smile against his damp skin.

-It must be at least sore from the effort. - She murmured very close to his neck, making him smile even though she couldn't see it.

-Join me, wife. - He turned his head back, watching her with a calm gaze.

And with a shy and very happy smile, Y/n removed her own clothes under the watchful eye of Aemond, who sighed when she was completely naked and embarrassed in front of him. The prince always found it sweet how she had not yet lost her shyness when being naked in front of him in these two months of marriage.

Y/n entered the bathtub and before she could sit on the other end of the bathtub he pulled her to sit on his thighs, leaving his wife very close to him, making her sigh.

-Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all, husband? - She gently ran her fingertips over the injured area.

-Mmmm. - He shook his head. - But I could use more kisses.

And with butterflies in her stomach Y/n did so, leaving sweet and moist kisses around her husband's shoulder who just laid his head back in contentment.

-You know if I had an injury like that I would be in a lot of pain. - She looked at him from under her eyelashes. - You are so strong husband.

Aemond had never felt so imposing in his entire life as when he heard his wife saying in that sweet and soft voice how strong he was, while looking at him from under her eyelashes sitting naked on his cock.

-I haven’t felt so much pain since I lost my eye. - Aemond didn't know where that had come from, he felt so relaxed at that moment that the words just flowed through his tongue with ease in a strange way. - It seems that I have become a little insensitive to slight pain.

Y/n gently ran her hand over his face where the eye patch was still firmly in place even during the bath. And after taking a deep breath fearing rejection after a day with so many advances she asked.

-Can I see husband?

Aemond automatically looked away, staring at his wife's breasts while his hands firmly locked on her waist.

-You don't want to see that, wife. - He muttered through his teeth. - It's not pleasant to look at.

-I think everything about you is pleasing to the eye, husband. - She tried to encourage him by stroking the scarred cheek below the eye patch, but still feeling afraid that he would push her away from him. - I would appreciate it very much if you let me see all of you.

And even fearful of his wife's reaction, taken by that strange and unfamiliar feeling in the midst of that moment of softness, Aemond removed the eye patch and dropped it on the floor next to the bathtub without looking her in the eyes.

Aemond's stomach turned as much as it had flown for the first time on Vhagar when he felt his wife's soft lips placing a gentle kiss against the deformed skin where his eye had once been.

-Gavy. (Gevie -Beautiful) - Her voice sounded like a very poor attempt at High Valyrian and Aemond's eyebrows arched.

-Where did you learn that?

-I read it in a book in the library. - She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. - Was the pronunciation bad?

-It was perfect. - He murmured with his eyes closed, lost in those sensations as he felt her sweet kisses against his face.

And with redoubled affection Y/n washed the herbs from Aemond's body and with a smile noticed that the redness had divided quite a bit, as well as the bleeding.

-After the bath I need to apply another ointment to you according to the maester, husband. - She smiled completely happy with her husband's moment of confidence. - To help it heal, he said.

-Mmm. - Aemond would let her do anything about him, as long as he could feel the softness of his wife's touch and her care and concern directed at him.

And with a sigh he trailed kisses down her soft neck, drawing low sighs and gasps from those gentle lips.

-I want you to be the one to take care of me from now on, wife. - He continued kissing her, and with a smile of pure contentment Y/n nodded positively to her husband.

-It is a pleasure for me to take care of you, husband. - She sighed at him in joy, making Aemond's heart accelerate in a strange way that made him want to vomit. He didn't understand what it was, it wasn't desire, something he was very familiar with as he desired his wife constantly, yes he was hard against her wet intimacy, but there was more.

There was something strange consuming him inside without explanation and he felt that even if he took her at that moment he wouldn't be close enough to her. And as he slid into her warm and receptive intimacy, he could feel his wife's arms hugging him tightly and pulling him closer and closer to her while she left kisses on his shoulders and face, making him lose himself inside her, feeling more and more of that sensation as strong as the pleasure of spilling his own seed inside his wife.

And letting himself be carried away by that moment, Aemond kissed her sweetly on the lips, almost a soft caress, while he felt her entangle her hands in his hair, caressing it in a way so gentle that it didn't seem intended for sex, but rather for something more delicate that the prince couldn't say the name.

-Skoros issi ao naejot issa? (What are you doing to me?) - He muttered between sighs, and Y/n had no idea what he had said, but chose to think it was something good.

All those unknown emotions, feelings and sensations were too much for Aemond, tearing from him an unparalleled pleasure that he had never felt in his entire life, and he poured himself deep inside his wife while hugging her tightly to his chest with a poignant need to feel her as close to him as possible.

And when Y/n came in his arms soon after, looking into his eyes without a hint of repulsion for his missing eye, but rather kissing him again while admiring him with pure devotion, Aemond knew. His wife's healing kisses might not help his wounded skin heal any faster, nor would they even bring back the eye that had been ripped out, but perhaps little by little they could help him heal much deeper wounds.

[flowerandblood]

Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

[cy-cyborg]

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist*, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

*edit to say, as several people pointed out, i got that wrong, my bad 😅. The inquisitors arm is actually amputated through the elbow, the screenshots i was looking at just weren't very clear and it has been a while since i got to trespasser lol. It would still entirely possible to strap a shield to the upper arm though, with some pretty minor adjustments to the existing straps on standard (as in, those used by non-disabled warriors) tall shields, so the point still stands.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

[k-buki]

ა໒ ˚₊ 𝓼-𝓼𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𓂃⊹

꒰ satoru gojo x f!reader ꒱ : wc 2,060. c.w. nsfw ﾉ mdni. shower sex. fingering. p in v. creampie. hair pulling. spanking.

it's no surprise gojo satoru loves your body. since you both have gotten together, he's made it blatantly obvious how head over heels he was for you. infatuated would be an understatement.

every dip and curve of your figure sends shudders down his spine, conducting a surge of heat in the pool of his stomach. his hands always meticulously work on you, ensuring you get the best possible treatment from him.

you're never left unsatisfied; satoru always makes sure you cum way before he's even close to finishing. he'd always bring you to the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had—you always think, it can't get any better, then he finds a way to make it better.

today was no exception. you stood in the shower, mindlessly washing your hair as you find yourself stuck in a daydream about the activities prior to this. you unconsciously bite your lip, your hand going to turn the water off, until a familiar hand restrained you in your tracks.

"s-satoru…?" you stammer out as his other hand trails down your hip, cold against the flush warmth of your skin. heat immediately rises to your skin as his body heat engulfs your whole frame.

he lets out a soft chuckle against the back of your neck, pressing his lips against your nape and trailing featherlight kisses against the raised goosebumps on your skin. "y'took too long…" he mumbles, voice husk and gravelly. your eyes flit back to him, then up to the running water in the shower. it's splashing in your face, and you can barely focus on his movements as he runs a hand up to your stomach, wrapping around it and pulling you back into him.

"wait... satoru, t-the wate—"

"leave it, leave it." he tugs the wrist he was holding, turning you around to face him. electric blue irises are completely entranced and locked onto the water droplets slowly making their way across your skin. he follows one down the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and eventually your crotch.

he was hypnotised, completely enamoured by your body and your body alone. he slowly moves closer to you, guiding every one of your steps back until you hit the cold porcelain of the wall. you let out a gasp, which was silenced by gojo's lips on yours.

he takes his time, savouring the feel of your lips against his. it's like silken feathers—he deducts—the sensation only proving to draw himself more and more into you. the warmth of the kiss is soon shattered as you pulled away for air, soft little pants escaping your lungs.

his hand cups your cheek, never letting your eyes leave his. gojo's hair was all over the place, water drops dripping down his face and framing it perfectly. he looked heavenly, like an angel directly cast down from above, and you were so situated on admiring his features that you didn't realise how his fingers started to trail down your curves with suggestiveness.

"i want you," gojo leans down to your ear, pressing kisses just where your jaw meets your neck. "s'pretty... i dunno how you expect me to stay calm around you, doll." his tone of voice causes your breath to hitch, along with the fact that his hand had gripped your thigh to hook it onto the side of his hips.

you let out a breathy whimper, trying not to focus on the hot feeling that slowly bunched up in your gut, but gojo knew better, he could read you like a book.

nimble fingers make their way between your folds and it didn't take long for your slick to souse his fingers thoroughly. he lets out a low chuckle, eyes gazing teasingly at you, however you tried to play it off as it simply being the water from the shower, but nothing could make you deny how needy you were right now.

gojo's fingers begin to test his limits, two soft fingertips dipping into your slit and coaxing a flurry of whines from your drooling mouth. your cunt is slowly split open by his fingers alone, gently thrusts accompanying his movements. a suppressed moan escapes from your choked up throat, a sweet melody to his ears, only reeling him into your sweetness even more.

he's now knuckles deep in you, digits brushing against a network of sensitive nerves. they poke and prod, searching between the molten heat for the one burning spot which would rupture the spark ablaze within your body.

they finally press up against your most receptive area, erupting an involuntary moan of pleasure from you. satisfaction pulses through your blood, heating up the crests of your cheeks and displaying the product of his actions in a tangible form. he frees the hand on your thigh to cup your cheek, thumb swiping away the shower water from the ripe redness that begun to brew on the surface of your flesh. he could feel the heat from your body, and it only spurred his own arousal.

your reactions were everything to him; he adored every little jerk of your hips, every twitch of your muscles as his fingers moved back and forth, in and out of your sweet cavern. the palpation of his fingers induced a bout of multiple unique sensations, shuddering within every inch of the brittle restraint you had holding you back.

"a-ah… 't-toru…" your brain had turned to mush, and you felt as if there was no point in talking as all of your words would simply fizz up in the back of your throat, leaving a taste on your senses which could only be described as mind-numbing. it certainly didn't help that just recently gojo had fucked the life out of you, and you were still highly sensitive.

before you could even process anything, gojo's fingers had steadily slipped out of you, pleasure ceasing and consciousness getting chained back to reality.

a pitiful whine rung off the walls as you catch sight of gojo's captivating smirk, but you were effectively silenced as his fingers approach your mouth, completely lathered in an embarrassing amount of your slick.

"open," gojo's breath hitches as you take his fingers in your mouth upon his command, the hypnotic swirl of your tongue along the length of his digits making the heat in his loins stir. "f-fuck… that's it..." his praise only makes you even more flustered, the warm water constantly hitting off of your skin made you feel as if you were physically going to melt in his hold.

he takes his fingers out of your mouth, a barely audible pop accompanying the action.

"can't wait any longer, princess…" both of his hands grasp onto your waist, whirling you around and pressing your front into the cold wall. your breath staggers in surprise, not expecting the sudden change. "want you so badly… you have no idea…" he mumbles into your ear.

he pulls your hips back, a hand on the small of your back and your ass pressed flush against his throbbing erection. he slowly grinds against the plush, trying to hold himself back from going absolutely feral. he could feel the drool pooling on the tip of his tongue, biting his lip as he aligns himself against your dribbling hole. he slowly pushes his hips forward, his girthy cock sinking into your silky, fluttering cunt.

it rips a mewl from your throat, pants and whines from you following every subtle movement of his hips until he was fully buried inside.

gojo takes a moment to savour the feeling, the delicious, addictive way you clamp around him. he takes a moment to steady his breathing, pressing kisses on the back of your shoulders as he slowly drags himself out of you, before quickly thrusting back into the soft, delicate moisture of your pussy.

"s-so wet f'me… shit… feels s'perfect…" he mumbles against your skin, sloppy kisses trailing to the junction where your neck and shoulder connects. his hand slowly and meticulously runs up your spine, following the surges of ecstacy which electrified the tight-knit bundle of nerves crowning your folds.

shortly after, you feel his fingers tangle into your locks, tugging your head back in such a way that you're prettily arched for him, accentuating all the gorgeous features of your body. gojo relished in the sight, drunken on the fact that all of this was his. it drove him mad with lust, brain a muddled haze filled only with thoughts of you, you, you. nothing could ever compare to the feeling of him sinking into your tight cunt, and if he could stay inside of you forever, he would.

each bump of his cock against your walls made you feel lightheaded. all you could think about was him and his dick. you whimper out an unstable plea of his name as his lips place a sizzling kiss to the skin of your neck.

wet slaps echo in your red-tipped ears, the sound reverberating even louder due to the running water. everything was wet, and you could feel almost everything around you. your legs trembled, struggling to sustain your weight as gojo's cock plows into you, the tip kissing the deepest parts of your arousal.

a shiver wracks through your fragile frame, the frothing velvet of your gummy walls sucking gojo in more and more, tempting him with the subtlest of movements.

it edged you closer and closer to your orgasm. you could feel it clouding the depths of your stomach, bubbling and itching to release. you let out a loud squeal as his fingers slither between your folds, swiftly circling over your swollen, aching clit which was practically begging for some sort of attention. your pelvis grinds into the touch, back arching even more as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. white spots flicker in your vision as your orgasm peaks and shatters all throughout you, walls clenching as your pussy coats satoru's cock in sheeny, sticky liquid.

he groans as you cum all over him, a squelching sound being repeatedly made as his thrusts pick up the pace, his hand tightening in your hair as he sucks up a small mark into the very crook of your neck, the bruise blooming a pale purple with slight undertones of red.

shameful noises of pure pleasure are elicited from your lungs as you come down from your high. you're left blinking back the fogginess in your vision as your eyes glance down, looking at the ring of white forming around the base of his length. it made your face heat up in embarrassment, eyes fluttering shut as you let out yet another, pitiful whimper. it didn’t take long for gojo’s restraint to crack, either, because amongst your euphoria, he buries himself to the hilt, letting out a low moan as he releases inside of you’re tight cunny.

it didn't take long for gojo's restraint to crack, either, because amongst your euphoria, he buries himself to the hilt, letting out a low moan as he releases inside of you’re tight cunny.

you take all he has to offer, clinging onto his cock and milking him out of every last drop of his sweet seed. he presses his face into your shoulder as he tries to gulp down sacks of air, his breath shaky on your skin.

he can barely resist staying inside of you for so long, but he eventually pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. a whine of protest slips past your parted lips, to which gojo only chortles.

"more?" he teases you, handing a light, playful smack to your ass, causing you to jolt. "hmm… maybe later, princess." you pout in response, eyes half-lidded and clouded over with your brewing affection.

"satoru…"

"oh, c'mon, don't give me that attitude… you and i both know that if i gave you more here, you wouldn't be able to get yourself out of this shower."

you couldn't protest against his will, because you knew he was right. a soft huff of agreement leaves your nose, the tingling of the euphoric release just underneath the husk of your legs. his hand runs up your inner thigh, watching his release dribble out of your hole, which almost immediately got washed away.

"here… i'll clean you up, gorgeous." he stealthily wraps his arms around your waist, causing you to yelp as you were pulled into a loving kiss. it was slow, gentle yet displayed all of his emotion with a simple action as he pulls you under the water alongside him, a lasting smile on his lips.

[yumeka-sxf]

In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far 💖

Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).

The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭

But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅

I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀

The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.

Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅

The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.

But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!

By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.

Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!

I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.

I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣

Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.

The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)

Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂

[kvrokasaa]

The Morning After

Includes: Isagi, Otoya, Reo, Chigiri, and Rin

Cw: Suggestive, Reo's mentions reader's hair being kinda long, not proofread. 1.4k words

Yoichi wakes up to the soft glare of the sun filtering through the blinds. He blinks a few times, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. The events of last night come rushing back to him - the laughter, the touches, the connection. He turns his head slightly and sees you lying next to him, still peacefully asleep.

A soft, almost inaudible chuckle leaves his lips while he takes in the serenity of the scene. Your hair is sprawled out on the pillow, your arms clutching the poor thing for dear life.

Cute.

Carefully, Isagi slips out of bed, trying not to wake you. He stretches, feeling the pleasant soreness from last night's activities. He moves quietly, deciding to make coffee and prepare a simple breakfast. As he waits for the coffee, he glances back towards the bedroom, his thoughts drifting. Last night felt different than any other one-night stand. It felt special. There was a connection between you both. It makes him feel both excited and nervous about what could come next.

You stir awake at the smell of coffee - the aroma drawing you out of your slumber. You stretch and sit up, the blanket slipping down to your waist.

You notice Isagi in the kitchen - with no shirt on - making breakfast and coffee. You could almost drool at the sight. "Morning," you say softly, your voice a bit raspy from all the moaning and screaming from the night before.

Isagi turns his face lighting at the sight of you in his shirt and nothing else. "Good morning," he replies, his voice gentle. "I made some coffee. Want a cup?"

You nod and reach out to grab the cup filled with coffee. Isagi speaks as you put in your desired creams and sugars. "Last night was amazing," he started, "I'd love to see where this can go." And of course, you have no other answer than yes.

You wake up with a start, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. As the events from last night come rushing back, you feel a mix of exhilaration and anxiety. You turn your head to see Otoya still asleep beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful. For a moment, you just watch him, trying to sort through your tangled thoughts and feelings.

You've known Otoya since you were kids, but his reputation as a player makes your heart ache with uncertainty. Was last night just another fleeting moment for him? Does he have a girlfriend? The doubts gnaw at you, making it hard to breathe.

Carefully, you slip out of bed, trying not to wake him. You move quietly around the room, gathering your clothes and getting dressed as quickly and silently as possible. You hope to leave before he wakes up, to spare yourself any potential heartbreak.

Just as you reach the door, you hear a rustle behind you. You freeze, your heart pounding.

"Leaving so soon?" Otoya's voice is soft, but it startles you. You turn to see him standing behind you, his eyes half-open but focused on you. "I-I should go," you stammer, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just..." You trail off.

"I'm scared. You have a reputation and I don't want to get hurt. What if you have another girl? What if last night didn't mean anything to you?" You voice your thoughts. It's a drawl, you think. Either your friendship is ruined forever, or you let him break your heart in silence.

He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "I've known you since childhood, you think I'd use you like that?" His voice is soft, filled with seriousness you rarely hear from him. You don't respond. You know that he wouldn't do that, don't you?

"Last night wasn't just some fling. It meant everything to me. You mean everything to me. I love you." That got you to look up at him.

"But you've never said anything." "I just realized," he answers honestly. "I know that you probably don't believe me." His hand comes up to cup your cheek, "Just give me some time. Let's figure this out together."

Reo woke up with a warm sensation spreading through his chest. He blinked sleepily, his gaze shifting to the figure beside him. You looked so peaceful, your hair cascading down over the pillow in gentle waves. A soft smile curved his lips against your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. The touch was gentle, reverent almost, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He felt a surge of affection, a deep longing that bordered on obsession. You stirred, a small sound escaping your lips, and he couldn't help but smile wider. Being this close to you, sharing these intimate moments, filled with a sense of contentment he hadn't known before.

Your bodies are entwined, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He traced patterns on your skin, each touch a silent declaration of his affection.

As you both exchanged whispered words and soft laughter, he couldn't help but marvel at the connection you both share. It's more than the physical attraction; it's a bond that transcends words, a silent understanding that you belong together.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, forgetting the outside world exists. In this moment, all that matters is the warmth from your skin, the rhythm of your breaths syncing in perfect harmony.

Reo knows he's falling deeper, that this isn't just a fleeting attraction. You've become his everything, a beacon of light in his dull world. And as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion, he couldn't help but feel grateful for every moment with you.

As the morning light filters through the curtains, Chigiri finds himself waking up next to you. The memories of last night flood back, filling him with a warm sense of contentment. He can't help but smile as he recalls how you finally confessed your feelings to him, through drunken words and moans.

Your peaceful sleeping face is a sight to behold, and he can't resist reaching out to gently brush a strand of your hair away. The way you sleepily smile makes his heart race with affection. It's moments like this that make him realize just how much he cares for you.

As he lies there, basking in the afterglow of your shared intimacy, he can't help but reflect on how far you've both come. From the first day you helped him with his leg injury to volunteering to monitor and do regular check-ups at Blue Lock, your bond has only grown stronger.

He knows this is just the beginning of something intimate between you two. With you by Chigiri's side, he feels like he can conquer anything. And as he watches you stir awake, a smile playing on your lips, he knows that he wouldn't want it any other way.

As the morning sun filters through the curtains, you find yourself waking up beside Rin. The soft warmth of his body against yours reminds you of the night before, where passion and tenderness intertwined in a dance only lovers could understand.

Rin stirs beside you, his eyes fluttering to meet yours. There's a moment of hesitation, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions between you. Then, with a gentle smile, he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"You're still here," he murmurs, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and relief.

You nod your head, not knowing if you should leave or not. "Yeah." Rin immediately notices your tone mixed with uncertainty and hesitation. "I know I said some things before...about you distracting me from soccer," he begins, his gaze searching yours for understanding.

Your eyes trail down to his hand, his fingers climbing onto your hand. "You're passionate about soccer, Rin. I know that. But you don't get to shut out everything else. We can find a balance."

He exhales slowly as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. "I want that, too." He admits, pulling you closer into a warm embrace.

The room is filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing and gentle rustles of movement as Rin lays his head on your chest. He hums in contentment when he hears the sound of your heartbeat. And with each shared whisper of love and longing, it becomes clear that despite his initial reluctance, he's fully committed to making things work between you.

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[rosie-bun27]

Diasomnia boys : Their love language !

Characters : Malleus Draconia , Lillia Vanrouge , Silver Vanrouge , Sebek Zigvolt

Pairing : x [Fem] Reader

❤🧡💛💚💙💜

----

(A/N : Okay , I think I will be making this into a little series where I cover all the dorms in Twisted wonderland , starting with my favourite ! Give your suggestions in the comments for which one I should do next (≧∇≦)/)

----

💚Malleus Draconia💚

Love language : Words of affirmation , gifts

1) Malleus loves to shower his darling with compliments and sweet nothings . After all , since he is the soon-to-be crowned king of Briar Valley , it is only fair that his partner gets to be treated and pampered like a princess .

2) However , his love doesn't merely stop at words . For what kind of lover would he be if he didn't also shower his darling with expensive gifts , adorning them like a sweet little doll , all wrapped up in silk and adorned with gold and jewels .

"My love , how could I possibly focus on the night sky , when you are my whole world ?"

**Bonus headcannon [🎉] : "What makes them really flustered ?"

Malleus : Any kind of physical touch . Just a soft little squeeze of the arm while the two of you are out on a walk or a sweet little peck on the cheek is enough to get his tail wagging and his cheeks flushed a bright red . His heart almost seems to melt as he just stands there , looking at you adoringly .

----

💚Lillia Vanrouge💚

Love language : Words of affirmation

1) Lillia just loves to see you blush when he flirts with you . He loves the way you bashfully avert your gaze when when he has made that cute little face of yours turn bright red , or the way your face seems to light up with the cutest smile after he has just complimented you .

2) Lillia also loves to playfully tease you , getting you all riled up just to see how much he could make you blush ~ To him you are just the cutest little human in the whole wide world , and your cute little flustered reactions make you all the cuter to him .

"Awh ~ Aren't you just the cutest , sweetheart ? Careful now , if you keep being so adorable I might just be tempted to eat you up !"

**Bonus headcannon [🎉] : "What makes them really flustered ?"

Lillia : Any sort of hand-made gift , whether it be a drawing , a cute little crafting project or a hand-sewn or knitted piece of clothing , he just can't help the little smirk that comes to his lips , or the oh so faint pink tint that paints his pale face when you give him something made from your own little hands . You are just so full of suprises , how could he not love you even more ?

----

💚Silver Vanrouge💚

Love language : Physical touch

1) Silver might not always be able to tell you "I love you" directly , unless you catch him lovingly mumbling it under his breath during one of his naps , or be able to spend as much time doing fun activities with you , but he is always up to cuddle , just wrapping you you up in his embrace and snuggling into you , giving you lots and lots of kisses all over your little face .

2) The only issue is that sometimes Silver's sleepyness can be so powerful , that he ends up trapping you in his warm embrace until he wakes up from his nap , which usually takes quite some time , so do be prepared to stay there for a while .

"... Mhm , you're so soft darling ~ Don't ... Go yet ~"

**Bonus headcannon [🎉] : "What makes them really flustered ?"

Silver : When you also return the physical affection . Cuddling with you as he sleeps is ptobably the highlight of his day , and he enjoys how soft and cuddly you are against him . Just the though of having you in his arms , all cuddled up against him .

----

💚Sebek Zigvolt💚

Love language : Acts of service

1) Let's be honest , Sebek doesn't exactly have the best way with words , as no matter how he tries to word his feelings he always ends up sounding mean and bossy and aggresive .

2) And so , the only way for him to properly express his love for you is through his actions . Making sure that his darling is taking care of herself and eating proper healthy meals and sleeping the recommended amount , and doing little favours like helping you with homework , or carrying your books when they are too heavy for you to carry .

"Good morning my darling ! Have you eaten brealfast ? ... No ?!? *proceeds to get you something to eat while firmly lecturing you about how precious and valuable you are and how you should take care of yourself !*"

**Bonus headcannon [🎉] : "What makes them really flustered ?"

Sebek : Bold flirting , when his darling gets playful with her words , he just melts . How is he supposed to keep his composure and remain serious when you are calling him all these cutsey nicknames ?! Watching him just turn as red as a ripe tomato as he stumbles over his words is just the cutest thing ever ~

----

(That's all !)

❤🧡💛💚💙💜

(A/N : I feel like Silver's and Lillia's didn't turn out as good but oh well T^T)

[primrosebow]

♡Finally!♡

I found the artttt :))) it took me a surprising hour and a half but it could have been worse, really.

Content warnings!: Uhm?? Suggestive? Actually nsfw I believe. I have never done this before AHWHAHWHD(ToT) this is like my third post of all time!

(Somewhat vaguely) inspired by @bigfatbimbo 's STELLAR fanfic about Lucifer (^ー^) my first moot of all of time!!!

Here goesss :))

I imagine he'd try to cover his mouth because the noises are getting uhm, a bit too loud.

I haven't, well, re-read the fic for the 103949202nd time recently and soon after I finish reading it the thing grows legs and exits my memory, so, it isn't all the way accurate to what happened in the fic since I don't remember if this exact position was featured, but, for a 3:45am drawing while I was unimaginably high and didn't even remember making until lunch time of the next day, I'd call this a pretty successful run

In case you're wondering where his wedding band went, I ate it. Lilith is going to have to go look for a new husband now, or learn how to deal with getting cucked(￣ｑ￣)ｚｚｚ

I will see you all soon I believe!

To the ones I already know: these 10 days just mean daily, regular posting. I will still be very much active when they're up! I honestly think I'll be more active; it'll just mean I have to wake up at 5:40am and will have a lot of free time on my way to campus. A lot of time to put the mind to work ehehehe :))

[faithfulren]

veiled affections

hi everyone !! thank u for 250 likes <33 tysm for the support, it means the world to me :)

in the halls of UA, katsuki bakugo and you share stolen glances and secret moments, hiding a forbidden love from the watchful eyes of classmates and teachers. but as the pressure mounts and danger looms, you both realize that keeping your relationship hidden may be harder than you ever imagined.

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

the halls of UA academy bustled with activity as students hurried to their next class. among them, you and katsuki bakugo moved with purpose, your steps carefully timed to avoid drawing attention. ever since you started dating in secret, every moment together felt like a precious stolen treasure.

"meet me at the training grounds after class," bakugo whispered as he passed you in the hallway, his crimson eyes flashing with excitement.

you nodded, a thrill coursing through you at the thought of another clandestine meeting. keeping your relationship hidden was risky, but the moments you shared with bakugo made it all worthwhile.

as the final bell rang, you made your way to the training grounds, heart pounding with anticipation. bakugo was already there, waiting impatiently.

"took you long enough," he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your own smile. "you know I can't just skip class like you."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense as he reached out to cup your cheek. "i missed you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

you leaned into his touch, savoring the rare moment of tenderness. "i missed you too," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words.

but before you could savor the moment any longer, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell. with a quick glance around, you both realized that you were no longer alone.

"quick, hide!" you hissed, pushing bakugo behind a nearby stack of equipment.

he scowled but complied, disappearing from view just as your classmates rounded the corner. you held your breath, praying that they wouldn't notice anything amiss.

"hey, have you seen y/n?" one of them asked, scanning the area.

you forced yourself to stay calm, plastering on a nonchalant expression. "nope, haven't seen them."

your classmates shrugged and continued on their way, oblivious to the close call. once they were out of sight, you let out a sigh of relief, turning to bakugo with a sheepish grin.

"that was close," you said, laughing nervously.

he snorted, rolling his eyes. "tch, they almost caught us."

you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "but they didn't. and as long as we're careful, they never will."

he squeezed your hand, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. "yeah, as long as we're careful."

the unease lingered between you, a reminder of the risks you were taking to be together. but as you looked into bakugo's eyes, you knew that it was worth it. no matter what obstacles stood in your way, you were determined to fight for your love.

and fight you did, through secret meetings and whispered conversations, each one a testament to the strength of your bond. but as the days turned into weeks and the pressure of keeping your relationship hidden mounted, you couldn't shake the feeling that danger was closing in.

little did you know, your secret love affair was about to be put to the ultimate test, forcing you to confront the truth of your feelings and the risks you were willing to take to protect the one you loved.

[cheesus-doodles]

How does Ran view Rindo’s best friend reader? And what’s his opinion on their relationship? I really like your work on Rindo and reader!

thank you for your kind words anon!

Masterlist | Rindo Tags

ㅤ‎

Ran thinks that the two of you together are adorable.

Yes sure, he knows damn well that both the both of them are delinquents who ruthlessly rule the back alleys of Roppongi with an iron fist, and that they are indeed supposed to be feared. But how was he supposed to think any other way when he sees Rindo with you?

Even though you clearly are the more easygoing and naive of your little pair with a tendency to go along with whatever it was that Rindo wanted, in Ran's eyes, its still his younger brother who comes off as the lost puppy trailing you looking for affection and attention, happy to let you lead him around by the nose. Yes, both of the Haitanis have both been in and out of juvie for various reasons, and Ran is perfectly aware of how Rindo is actually like during fights, having no qualm with breaking bones and putting faces through cement. Yet Ran still finds it hard to find any good reason to fear Rindo whenever you are arm-in-arm with him, chattering away with a complete lack of awareness to your surroundings. Ran, in fact, finds it rather amusing to occasionally poke his younger brother by linking arms with you just to get a reaction out of him and see him growl and threaten.

There was no way that Ran could possibly hate you, not with what you had done for Rindo. As the older of the two (not by much but still), Ran takes it upon himself to learn about and keep an eye out for Rindo, even if the younger Haitani dislikes his older brother's intrusions into his life.

And from what Ran can tell, Rindo has only changed for the better - as much as a delinquent can, at least. He knew that the day you picked Rindo over him was the day that something within Rindo had sparked (or snapped), and the younger Haitani had never let go of you since then, which you didn't seem to mind. Good thing either way, since with you came a sense of responsibility for Rindo that he never had, and Ran do so appreciate Rindo caring about something outside of picking fights for a change. Maybe you could get him to care about bills as well soon.

You did bring a breath of fresh air into both their lives, which the older of the brothers appreciates. With you came normal afternoons, calm evenings, and even peaceful nights; being a regular civilian with no ties to the gang life, you usually were the one to drag the two Haitani brothers around to your favourite cafes or the newest shops. Normal activities. Of course, the the only caveat to peace and normality being that you were within arm's length of Rindo, but that was easy enough to achieve.

‎

Ran does however wish from time to time that you were the slightest bit more self aware and less air-headed. The amount of stress you cause his younger brother on a day-to-day basis simply can't be healthy, but more importantly, it affects Ran as well. Don't get him wrong, this older delinquent was content to watch his younger brother run around like a headless chicken from time to time, but when it spills over into his life and causes Ran to lose his precious sleep is where he draws the line. Maybe with a few more brain cells, you would be able to learn which action would result in a explosive reaction from your best friend, but it has already been years and Ran isn't hopeful.

Rindo always anxiously checking in on you whenever he could as if you would vanish off the face of the earth the moment he wasn't looking (being lured into a van and kidnapped with candy was what Rindo swears would be enough to work on you, and Ran didn't doubt as much). And when he couldn't, Ran would have the chance to be amused by his younger brother compulsively opening and closing his phone every second just to make sure he wasn't missing any messages that you were sending him, before giving in after five minutes and simply calling you. This would quickly turn into a full blown cursing and swearing session when you fail to pick up within half a minute, followed by a panicked Rindo dropping everything to take off and hunt you down.

This usually happens during school time, when the younger of the Haitanis reluctantly let you attend class, only to storm your classroom later on, though meltdowns also tend to happen at night when you aren't sleeping over at their place. And the latter is when Ran gets awoken by all the scrambling, sometimes getting dragged up as well to look for you when Rindo happens to barge into your room on the rare occasion you wandered out for a midnight snack.

Despite Ran knowing that whatever Rindo has going on with you isn't quite normal, with Rindo being a tad too obsessed with knowing where you were and what you were doing at all times, the older delinquent doesn't care. As long as his younger brother was happy, Ran was content with playing along. And alas, until Ran can knock some common sense into that empty head of yours, he'll settle for tying you to a chair and hauling your ass back to Rindo.

Ah the woes of being an older brother.

[modmad]

Hey Mod, I don't know what's going on that hurt you, I feel like I missed something that's happened, but I can tell from what I did see that it didn't just hurt you, but scared you and made you feel a Lot of doubt. I've also seen a lot of messages pouring in with support, and I want to share mine.

I have hypermobile type EDS, fibromyalgia, and a whole bucket's worth of faulty wiring in my brain. And I've always had stories to tell but I never felt I was good enough to share them. If it's because I can't focus enough to get through nanowrimo, or because I can't manage the focus and time towards drawing as a hobby, or the fact that an excessive amount of either for me leads to my hands wanting to shut down. But you? You *inspire* me. Your stories, all the ones I've seen, read, experienced in some way or another, they're so good. And you're open and honest with your fans about your own health, and of course, we support you and always would rather you rest and feel as best you can, instead of pushing out something and working yourself too hard. But all of this is to say that. I think I would have given up on my own stories if I hadn't found you and yours.

I hope whatever is going on sorts itself out, I hope you're able to keep telling your stories. At your own pace, in your own way. I think you deserve to be happy. If there's anything we (your fans, especially those of us too awkward to come off anon, whoops,) can do, to help in some way? Even if it's silly videos or cute cat pictures or whatever it is that could just help you smile. We're here. We love you.

woof. I woke up to so many messages I can't even read them all in one go I'm getting too emotional- I do feel I owe an explanation so I'll explain what happened under the cut but all you guys need to know is I'm okay, I got through it, I love you, and you're so important to me and I'm so grateful for all the messages that have asked me to stay.

tw for suicidal thoughts and all that

yeah so I have the bad morning of all mornings: was introduced to the fact there's this one character (Mr Puzzles) on a very popular youtube that. resembles RGB. incredibly strongly. like. I don't want to link to it just look if you want to. Anyway at the time I thought it had just dropped (seems to have been around for 6 months actually), and having commented on it I immediately got an inbox full of hate mail.

My website, meanwhile, had locked both me and my web designer out of it, and- already in a bad state of mind- I went into full on panic/paranoid spiral of 'they have hacked it, and they are going to delete any proof that I was here before them.' This of course wasn't true, and we have since recalimed control of the site (don't know what happened there but hey. it's fine???? haha. ha.)

On top of this my father has terminal cancer of the pancreas, which is horrible for everyone already but it means that- at some point this year- I am going to be the only person with an active income in my house. I am disabled, do not make a lot of money, and the cost of living is skyrocketing. Combine that with months of Despair at the world right now, with the multiple wars, genocide, corruption and AI and the loss of control any of us have over our IP or lives and I just decided it was time to end it all.

I somehow remembered this was a bad idea to act on immediately (hard during a period of entirely irrational thought) and instead went for a very long walk, crossed the bridge I could have jumped off and during that I came out of the worst of it. I then came back home to so much love online I felt deeply ashamed for ever contemplating it, and I cried a lot. My nose is still puffy and now my feet hurt! lmao

Anyway. Yeah. There's your context. I am not going to stop hoping, making, or living. I am prone to moments of weakness and this was one of the worst of them and I am still here, thanks in a large part to all of you. I might need you in the future to defend me against this, or people who take our ideas, but I hope you know that I will do the same for you. We need each other, and to be there for you I need to be here at all.

also fuck Mr Puzzles

[thejakeslayla]

╰─▸❝ heeseung as boyfriend❞

pairing: bf!heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ genre: fluff, established relationship, sensitive reader ୨୧ warnings: kisses as promised @magyuhye ♡

“coming back home tired to heeseung;”

as you arrived home, thoroughly exhausted, you finally collapsed onto the bed. your body ached, and your legs throbbed. heeseung sat at his desk, likely immersed in a video game. although you typically took interest in his activities, today, you couldn't muster the energy to peer over his shoulder. you simply crawled into bed, still dressed in your outdoor clothes, ready to surrender to sleep. with your eyes closed, you sensed heeseung joining you. soon, his fingers began to gently comb through your hair.

"tough day, my dear?" heeseung inquired, leaning in to kiss your cheek and then your forehead. you met his gaze as you opened your eyes. the tenderness in his expression brought tears to your eyes. today had been overwhelming, far from a good day. both physically and mentally drained, you had yearned for this moment since leaving home in the morning. you had started the day with such optimism, singing along to your favorite songs while getting ready, motivated and happy to simply exist today. unfortunately, reality had fallen short of your expectations. you didn’t even notice that your, tears had escaped, rolling down your cheeks.

"i'm so exhausted, heeseungie," you whispered, and that was enough for him to draw you closer, tightly hugging your weak body,. "i'm just so drained," you sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt.

"shh," he murmured, his arms still wrapped around you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "it's okay. i'm here, alright? do you want to talk about it?" but you simply shook your head, eager to forget the wretched day and find solace in your boyfriend's embrace.

he understood. he kissed the top of your head, and the room filled with your hushed sobs as he began to hum a familiar melody. you quickly recognized the tune; it was one of your favorite songs. focusing on his soft voice, your tears subsided, replaced by the comforting sound of his gentle singing.

"let's get you changed, okay, baby?" he asked after the song ended. exhausted and unable to speak, but it seemed like heeseung didn't need a response. he efficiently removed each article of your clothing, swiftly dressing you in your pajamas. gently lifting you, he adjusted your position for maximum comfort. heeseung tucked you in, ensuring every inch of your body was covered with the blanket, and then lay down beside you.

clinging to his side, you embraced him as he wrapped his arm around you. you rested your cheek against his chest and looked up at him. "thank you," you whispered, and he smiled in response.

"there's nothing to be thankful for, it’s normal, yeah? just taking care of you, this is what people do in relationships," you nuzzled against him, growing more at ease. he lovingly stroked your back. "bad days happen, princess. it's okay to have one, and that's why i'm here to help you after a rough day."

"i love you so much," you whispered again, and you could feel his chest quiver as you heard his soft chuckle.

"i love you too, y/n. now, let me sing you to sleep, alright?"

“fun dates;”

"stop cheating!" heeseung exclaimed as you stole yet another kill from him.

"you're just my support; what can i say?" you looked at him, wearing a big smile. "i'm just better," you teased, prompting heeseung to playfully hit your shoulder.

dramatically gasping, you retaliated with a playful hit, which resulted in you getting smacked on the head. unfortunately, you weren’t expecting that, you (also dramatically and almost on purpose) slammed your head onto the desk, loud groan leaving your mouth.

"oh my god, princess," heeseung moved his chair closer to yours, grabbing your shoulders and gently squeezing them. "are you okay? i didn't mean to, i swear. i'm so sorry," he babbled, panic evident in his expression.

"i'm okay, i'm okay," you reassured him as you got up. he gasped at the red mark on your forehead, a result of your head meeting the keyboard.

without a word, he drew closer and planted several gentle kisses on your forehead. "aggh! hee, it hurts, don't touch it!" you exclaimed, pulling away.

"oh my god, i'm so, so sorry, baby," he continued to apologize. after a while of heeseung panicking and you insisting that you were fine, he bought you five packs of your favorite candy, even promising to get you more if you needed it.

little did he know that this had been your plan all along – to act dramatic and get more candy.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

winter dates held an extra layer of fun. you went to a park together, with heeseung's hand safely tucked in your pocket, his thumb tenderly caressing your skin to keep your hand warm.

after arriving, you both built a snowman, but true to heeseung's clumsiness, he tripped first. he grabbed your forearm, pulling you down with him.

"as they say, if we go down, we go down together, right?" he chuckled, trying laugh off your annoyed expression.

"hee! i'm literally covered in snow," you whined, feeling your legs slowly freeze.

"let me warm you up, baby," he suggested, rolling closer to you, his jacket now completely snow-covered. he hovered over you, supporting himself on the slippery ground, then leaned in and kissed you. it wasn't just a metaphor; the kiss actually warmed you up.

the kiss continued until you both ran out of breath, but the special moment was short-lived. did i mention that heeseung had placed his trust in slippery snow? yes, as he pulled away, his hand slipped, and with all his body weight, he tumbled onto you. at this point, you couldn't help but laugh, despite the pain in your ribs. it was just too hilarious, and he kept apologizing. you decided to silence him by placing your freezing fingers on his warm, embarrassed cheeks and kissing him again.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

it seemed like heeseung's clumsiness and luck for tripping over had rubbed off on you. during a spring date, as the weather warmed up, you decided to grab some ice cream.

here you were, sitting on the sidewalk after tripping and scraping your knee, blood trickling. naturally, heeseung panicked. he helped you up and even suggested carrying you while asking if you wanted to continue the date. you were yearning for some ice cream, and the thought of not enjoying your favorite flavor saddened you.

"poor baby," heeseung cooed when he saw you limping. "does it hurt that much?"

as you reached the ice cream stand, heeseung ordered your ice cream, remembering your favorite flavor. you sat down, expecting him to hand it to you, but he assumed you were already holding it, so he let go. unfortunately, the ice cream ended up on the ground, prompting a loud whine from you.

frustration and anger welled up during this date. unable to contain your emotions, you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"baby, no, no, no, it’s okay," you heard heeseung say as he crouched in front of you, brushing hair out of your face and gently wiping away your tears. "you can have mine, alright?"

you looked at him, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. while his flavor wasn't your absolute favorite, you were simply craving ice cream too much. you extended your hand, and heeseung, with a smile, placed his ice cream in your hand. as you indulged, he stood up, now patting your head.

"is it good, baby?" he asked, a broad smile on his face as he watched you eat, hot tears still streaming down your cheeks. "if it's good, i can buy you another one."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

the chilly night had fallen, and now you were sitting with heeseung under a blanket, lost in thought about the day you just spent together, inseparable from dawn to dusk.

as soon as you woke up, you forced heeseung to help you in making lemonade, his task was to make the ice cubes, making you yell each time he pressed his cold hands to your body, as you were taking care of cutting the fruit. the lemonade turned out delicious, and your boyfriend took all the credit, proudly complimenting his own work.

"so, is the lemonade i made any good?" he asked, looking at you with this goofy smirk on his face.

next, you headed to the pool, where most of your day had been spent. you engaged in numerous playful activities, multiple tries to drown each other, playfully splashing him, which always started a war, competing in who's gonna hold their breath longer and just swimming while enjoying each other's company. the day also featured multiple kisses, with heeseung even suggesting you try kissing underwater.

after several times that heeseung picked you up and threw your body into the water, you finally agreed.

"was it that bad?" he asked as he pulled you out of the water.

"well, maybe if you were a better kisse—" and you found yourself underwater again.

“lazy saturday mornings;” 

"no, baby," heeseung groaned, pulling you closer and hugging your body even tighter. "don't leave, please. just five more minutes, hm?"

you were annoyed; why did your sleepy boyfriend have to be so attractive? and why was he so good at convincing you to stay? your hand found its way to his messy hair, ruffling it. he leaned closer, placing his lips on yours, probably his strategy to keep you in bed a little longer.

everyone knew that heeseung slept in late, and if he woke up at 10, it was a miracle. however, you didn't enjoy lounging in bed for that long. you pulled back, attempting to break free from his grasp.

"baby," he whispered, resting his head on your chest, snuggling closer to you. "just stay, please. i promise, just ten more minutes."

"heeseung, no," you protested, pinching his shoulder, but he didn't budge. "you're like a stone. you can sleep more; it's fine."

"i don't want to without you," he whined again, and you looked at him. a soft smirk played on his lips, eyes closed. barefaced heeseung, with messy hair, a husky voice, and incredibly cuddly—how could you possibly say no to him?

"i might go fishing with jake this friday," heeseung mentioned, his fingers idly playing with the end of your sweatpants. your legs rested on his lap as you sipped your coffee.

you just finished eating breakfast, and heeseung suggested watching something on tv. however, since it was still early, nothing entertaining was on.

"yeah?" you replied, setting your phone down. "are you going to catch something this time?" you teased, earning a sassy look from heeseung.

"just kidding, just kidding. you're the best fisherman in the country, heeseungie."

. . . . . -ˋˏ ✎ author's note! not my best work to be honest .. i am so delulu over heeseung but when it comes to writing for him im like ?? s weird.

requests: open © 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: when Maddie had mentioned to Wally her plan to follow Simon when he confronted you, Wally had supported her one hundred and ten percent. after all, he'd always been sure there was more to you than met the eye.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.3

Wally had had his suspicions about you since your sophomore year.

Not that he'd admitted it to anyone, not after forty years of disappointment when looks that had seemed deliberate had just been coincidence.

He'd been entering the assembly hall, alone, no one ahead of or behind him, as you were leaving. The presence of the freshman and sophomore gym instructors suggested some kind of group activity had just taken place, corroborated by the ruddiness of your cheeks and the damp ends of your hair.

You'd been fingering through the pile of loose papers you'd held, a look of deep concentration on your face, and had just been about to walk into through Wally when—

"S'cuse me."

You'd sidestepped him on your way out without looking up. It'd taken him so off-guard that he'd failed to react. By the time he'd thought to go after you, it'd been too late. You'd caught up to your friends and had turned the corner just as Mr. Martin had called out to him, gesturing Wally over to join the others for that afternoon's session.

The following day, he'd tracked you down; hovered over you during first period, slid into the unoccupied space at your lunch table, and even sat with you when you'd stayed behind after school to work in the library. He'd done everything he could think of to garner a reaction from you, from monologuing through your Math quiz—he'd felt guilty about your C- for a week afterward—to jumping out from the shadows when you weren't looking and yelling in your ear.

Nothing. No missteps or wide eyes or held breaths, n o t h i n g. Not even a twitch.

He would've let the whole thing go and never thought about you again had it not been for the rare—albeit could be serendipitous—responses you sometimes let slip.

Like the time he'd scooted his chair right into your space, knee pressed against yours under the table in the library. Wally had draped an arm along the back of your seat, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the plastic (Frida's I Know There's Something Going On, sped up to match the tempo of Wally's restlessness). You'd been hunched over Slaughterhouse-Five, Wally reading over your shoulder, when he'd noticed your hand.

Specifically, an angry-looking scar that crawled along the bone beneath your pinky, from knuckle to wrist. Too pale to be recent, but too visible to have happened in the distant past. He'd acted without thinking, traced the fingers of his free hand down the length of the scar, and muttered, "What happened to you, pretty girl?"

When he'd glanced at your face, you'd been staring at your hand, expression tight as if reliving the moment you'd incurred the wound.

It didn't have to mean anything, Wally could've chalked it up to right question, right time, except that you'd suddenly shoved your chair back, the angry scrape of metal against linoleum drawing the librarian's attention, and had gathered your things in a hurry.

You'd been upset. And though Wally couldn't be sure, he'd felt that it'd been his fault. You'd pivoted toward him, stopped, changed your mind halfway through the motion, and repositioned yourself to slip around your chair the other way. An action Wally had been too apologetic to count as a victory.

He'd stumbled after you, watched you seek out your friend—Xavier, Wally recalled—in the music room and ask for a lift home.

"No questions asked." You'd told Xavier, like some sort of code that, given how the other people around him reacted, only Xavier could decipher.

"Wait, I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again!" Wally had been so close to...to something. Maybe not a full admission or a conversation or a just-for-him smile, but something. Something real. He'd just wanted to experience someone who hadn't been encouraged to write their own obituary, fuck, had he really screwed up that bad?

You'd climbed into Xavier's truck and leaned your head against the window. Eyes, watery and filled with sorrow, fixed purposefully above Wally's head in what Wally had interpreted as a final plea to be left alone.

So, wrought with guilt and confusion and a splintered sense of loss, that had been the last time Wally had sought you out in pursuit of uncovering whatever magic you might've possessed...

...Until yesterday. He'd intercepted Maddie when she'd been marching toward the cafeteria, clearly on a mission as she'd bobbed and weaved through the lunch rush of students to keep up with her guy friend.

"What's going on?" Wally had asked, following Maddie's gaze as she'd surveyed guy-friend leaning over to talk to someone. When guy-friend had moved aside to let that someone stand, Wally had been pleasantly surprised to see it'd been you.

"Simon's going to talk to her." Maddie had explained, "I...overheard him telling Nicole."

Wally hadn't known who Nicole was. Regardless, "Cool. You think it's about how you died?"

"Yeah.    Sure." Maddie had moved to trail you and Simon, spun around at the last second to face Wally, and said, "I don't know yet. It could be nothing." She'd started to walk backward, waved stiffly, "I'll. See you later."

It'd been a clear dismissal, a silent request for privacy, which Wally had been happy to oblige. Mostly. He'd stepped outside after counting to ten Mississippi and found a spot near the bike racks, curious about what you'd do when Maddie appeared in the bus shelter Simon had hustled you into.

Truthfully, Wally had expected that it wouldn't be much, given how you'd failed to react to him in the past, and he'd been right. You'd listened to Simon, appeared suitably confused, and then—

No way.

You'd looked directly at him. Had paused in skimming the area to look at him. There hadn't been anyone close enough to Wally for it to have been another fluke.

"She can see me." He'd gasped, shoving his hands in his pockets, and, fuck it, Maddie hadn't outright asked Wally not to get too close; a loophole Wally had been willing to exploit in favor of finally getting the truth out of you. He'd strode to the bus shelter, witnessed your demeanor visibly stiffen when he'd peered through the glass.

You could see him.

In his excitement, Wally had missed how Maddie had curled into herself on the bench like a wilted flower, and how Simon hadn't pressed any buttons on his phone to accept a call; Wally had been too preoccupied, practically floating after you as you'd returned to the school.

"Do what you want," He'd said, "but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." It'd been a promise to himself that he'd voiced out loud. Belatedly, the words had hit his ears and he'd almost stuttered an apology at how threatening it'd sounded.

Almost. Because you'd been struggling with your lock, cheeks pinking, pillowy lower lip caught between your teeth; flustered and frustrated and oh so pretty. He hadn't been able to help himself, hand moving of its own volition, metal to a magnet, and he'd skimmed his fingers up the gentle curve of your spine, from your lower back to between your shoulder blades.

Your breath had hitched, perfect and sweet, and when had he leaned in? Your mouth closening as you'd slowly turned your head toward him. Wally had lifted his other hand to rest against your throat, thumb smoothing the soft underside of your jaw, heart pounding, warmth coiling low in his belly, twisting, needing—

💥BANG💥

Wally had jolted out of whatever trance he'd fallen into and stepped back, regarding your interaction with your curvy goth friend in a daze. That'd been weird. Well, the weirdest thing in a sea of weird things that Wally had encountered since his debut in the metaphysical world. It'd been hypnotic, his actions guided by invisible strings, brain taking a backseat while instinct took the wheel.

He'd never felt that kind of pull toward anyone, alive or dead.

What the hell?

Answers had had to wait, Wally unable to think up a good enough excuse to skip Group. Until he knew exactly what was going on, he didn't want to shine a stage light on you. So, he'd attended, participated as much as he'd thought would keep Mr. Martin and the others from suspecting anything, and had had to refrain from bolting like a bat out of hell as soon as Mr. Martin had released them.

He'd had to find you, figure this out, touch you, kiss you, taste you—but you'd been smart and, according to your curvy goth friend, you'd bailed on your last class, "To pick up shit for her mom. Seriously, she needs to reinforce her boundaries before I do it for her."

If that's how you wanted to play this, Alright, baby, we'll do this your way, Wally thought the next morning, stretching the sleep from his limbs. Whatever had happened when he'd touched you yesterday had affected you both, of that Wally was sure.

And if you'd felt even a third of what he had, he knew it wouldn't be long before you two were drawn together once again.

💀___________________________

PART TWO - PART FOUR

also available on AO3!

MATERLIST