#like they were not there for anything important and were entirely made to prop up Geto more lol

[sinnbaddie]

Finding out Mimiko and Nanako have diehard fans is interesting to say the least considering they were there for a split second at most and were lacking incredibly as characters.

Not to say they were necessarily bad characters, but they did not hold weight in the story and were really not that entertaining. The story is not less/more interesting without them or with them. It doesn’t change whatsoever because they were very unimportant and to get so angry over their deaths is a little over the top

But I think what makes me most annoyed is that y’all are angry at Sukuna for killing them when he has never been a person to care for others?? legitimately the kids were dumb for thinking the king of curses would do their bidding, you cannot convince me they were smart for that no matter how sad their backstory is. They could’ve easily avoided their fate if they thought and understood they were dealing with the embodiment of evil and could not ask him to do what they wanted, it really was a stupid and unfortunate move but I digress

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 8)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

The illness persists in the weight of your skin over your bones yet the loss of actual muscle and fat that turn you skeletal. Your legs become bow-like and pain radiates just above your hairline. Your vision crackles with scattered flashes of black dots, and you drink like a man lost in the desert. 

Only foods that are red stay down, and even then you only nibble at peppers and plug your nose at the raw meat you stuff in your mouth. You feel the sunlight outside your window when you open it up and stick your hand through, as walking out of your apartment is a chore you can only handle once a week at most. 

Once a homebody, reclusive out of necessity and exhaustion from simple interactions, you now live for Lucifer’s chatter. His presence abates your fever, physically and emotionally. The dependence on him, as sweet as he appears, makes you itch inside. 

Everything is terrible, you tell yourself at least once per day, as the illness persists. 

But if Lucifer is good at anything, it’s providing you with distractions from the ever-present suffering.

—

The sounds you made put the Angelic Choir to shame. 

“Lucifer, don’t say that!”

The King of Hell’s laugh was muffled as he stayed buried in your cunt. The memory of you being so flustered was almost just as sweet. 

He eyed your tightly screwed expression just over your growing belly, and felt gratified at his idea to have you propped up by pillows from head to hips. With the boost, Lucifer could watch you enjoy yourself and remain comfortable. 

Let him feel the springs of your mattress dig into his knees and stomach. They were secondary to the pain of his own hardness straining in his slacks. 

A keen from you, and the feeling of your nails as they raked through his hair and over his scalp, had Lucifer moaning. His eyes rolled back, momentarily blinded by euphoria. 

“Ooh!” 

Eyes snapping open, Lucifer lifted himself from the bed quickly. His tongue slipped out of you, dripping onto the sheets when he was mindless to reeling it back in.

“Why’d you stop?” Your whine between quick pants made him blink.

One eye at a time. 

“I thought I hurt you.” He smiled, sheepishly, once his tongue was back in his mouth. 

His mauve-lids and golden lashes fluttered when you wiped the slick from his chin. There was no missing the color that had returned to your cheeks with all the exertion he was putting you through, and he felt a swell of pride at being able to breathe life back into you. So to speak. 

“Heaven help me.” You said, sarcastically. 

Breathlessly.

The Devil’s hips jerked when your hand rose to grip a fistful of his blond hair. You manually lowered him back between your legs, heedless to the way his entire frame shivered.

— 

‘I think I… I think I’m in love with her.’ Lucifer looked so earnest, meeting the glow of Ozzie’s stare. 

The Sin clucked a tongue in his King’s direction, shaking his head. ‘Well, don’t tell her that. You’re gonna scare her away, man.’ 

—

Lucifer watched you fall apart from just his tongue (its length and width being inhuman notwithstanding). 

You were so beautiful like this. Legs shaking, body spasming, letting go.

‘I love you.’ 

Man’s (alleged) Greatest Enemy could just barely contain himself. 

‘I love you I love you I love you’ 

—

Lucifer brings you another scroll one sunny day, and you find it riddled with names. 

“I’ve been thinking about what to call him or her, so I made a list! …Kinda, sorta during a meeting… whatever, it wasn’t that important!” 

Oh, you could see that. 

“Do you like any of them? Which are your favorites? No! Gimme your top 5!” His jubilation is so innocent, but something inside you hitches. 

“Does it actually matter what I think?” You chuckled. 

“Of course it does!” He cried. “You’re the mo— uh… you’re putting in most of the work!”

The weak save went unchallenged. You were already circling names, likening the process to navigating a minefield as you looked through a long line of names you couldn’t even pronounce or read. 

‘Ehb 

Horus

Azor 

Carlton’

“What about a girl?” Lucifer asked out of the blue. 

Your head cocked to the side as you realized your picks had been relegated to just one side of the endless list. That he’d written down names for boys and for girls struck you as odd. 

 “You think it’ll be a girl?” 

Lucifer looked at you with a curious gaze. “Could be, couldn’t it?”

After a moment, you shrugged. “I guess so…” 

The King’s confusion crinkled around his eyes and caused an uncanny few lines in his otherwise perfect forehead. You flick the pen at him teasingly to wipe the look from his face.

You write a few names down, and watch with a smirk as his frown turns upside down. 

‘Adrienne 

Charlotte

Maleficent’

You ignored the painful thought that this was a pointless endeavor. Naming a dead thing.

—

With eyebrows raised, you sat waiting dutifully, hands clasped over your stomach while he rummaged through the box. 

“Aha!” He pulled out two red objects, one in each hand, and knee’d the chest out of the way to present them to you.

“Surprise!”

Two remarkably crafted stuffed animals were set before you on the couch cushion. 

Goats. 

It took you a second to place them, staring at their intricate appearances — covered in fluffy red fur from head to cloven hoof, with large yellow eyes and tiny red smiles stitched on their stark white muzzles. 

Shiny, metallic-looking horns curled over the curvature of their little heads, tips almost touching the tiny approximations of wings protruding from their backs. You noticed that the little wings were also sticking out of the backs of their tiny tuxedo suits; solid black to further contrast their Luciferean color schemes. 

An uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal escaped you. 

Damn these hormones. You internally chastised yourself while reaching out to finger at the detailed plushies. 

“They’re so cute!” You admired the unbelievable softness of one’s fur, hand overlapping with Lucifer’s as you turned it this way and that. His grin was so wide in your peripheral vision as he soaked up your fawning.

“Aren’t they?!” Lucifer squealed along with you. “They’re twins! But see this one has lighter fur and this one has sharper eyes. I tried to give them little differences so they had some individuality.” 

“Michael and I looked so similar in the Beginning, a ton of people always got us mixed up. Sometimes it was fun, but I got tired of hearing him bitch about it after the first couple centuries.”

A more serene countenance overtook your counterpart, with his line of sight drifting off to the floor beside you. Lost in thought. Or perhaps reminiscing. 

“Michael?” You asked gently. 

“My brother.” Lucifer replied. 

“Ohh, I think I remember… is he a Prince of Hell too?” 

The formerly Divine man frowned. “… No. Not him.”

A shadow fell over you both, distant sadness suffusing the air. You reached for him instantly, only for Lucifer to switch on like a lightbulb and grin manically. 

“Oh well! Who knows, maybe he took Dad’s side just to make sure no one ever confused us for each other ever again!” 

You pulled away. “… right.” 

Lucifer shook his head after a glance in your direction. 

“Um, so, I was thinking…” He began. “Maybe we give one to the baby an-nd… one could stay here… with you…” 

There was no hiding the confusion that crossed your face. 

You ‘tsk’ed. “You wanna deny the baby half this cuteness?” 

In response, Lucifer tittered, still adamant on looking around the room instead of meeting your gaze head on. “Hah, no. I was thinking that, maybe, we could keep one of them here and… and then they could reunite every time the baby and I… or just the baby… visit…”

Slow realization made your already weak constitution roil. 

Perhaps, if you’d been yourself and not the hollow shell of a person you’d become while pregnant, you would’ve been angry. Or upset enough to shout. Maybe you would’ve gotten up and left him there on his lonesome, wordlessly demanding he not entertain that idea ever again. 

Certainly, the You from before this insane, impossible scenario wouldn’t hesitate to react melodramatically. 

You sighed, fiddling with one of the goat’s tails. “Oh Lou…” 

He cringed beneath the weight of your words, laden with a heaviness that harshened his already guilty conscience. 

“Wait, before you say no —” Lucifer felt his mouth running away from him. “Maybe you could think about it and then decide? Maybe after they’re born?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. I don’t expect anything from you.” 

“You’re expecting me to be its mother.” Your tone broke no room for argument. 

Mauve eyelids drooped as Lucifer looked down in shame. “I — ”

“I wouldn’t make a good mom.” Your statement stopped him in his tracks. 

Frustration simmered in Lucifer, slowly creeping into his expression as you continued, unrelenting. His posture went rigid, hands beginning to clench at his sides.

“It’s not that I don’t care. I probably care too much, actually.” You admitted.

It was true. Regardless of your paranoia and how justified it was or not, the sole basis for why you felt the need to argue in the first place —

(And wasn’t that just pathetic? You had feelings for the Epitome of Evil and had entertained being safe and happy with him) 

— the reality was that you’d been a broken human being before this cosmic impossibility entered your life. 

“I just don’t…” You sighed. “I wouldn’t be a good part of their life if I was in it.” 

Your head whipped up, vision spotting when Lucifer blurted:

“You are the best part of my life.” 

He looked angry. Furious. So much so that the sclera around his irises began to radiate a blood-red. 

“Do you know how hard it is? To leave you? I have to convince myself every single time that you’ll still be here when I return!” Lucifer claimed. “And soon I won’t even be able to do that!” 

“I don’t want to say goodbye forever! I… I l…” 

You shuddered, stiffening in your seat. As soon as he realized, Lucifer’s display was cowed. 

“Fuck, are you alright? I’m not — I don’t know what came over me!”

You shook your head. “No.” 

“It stopped.” You whispered. 

Lucifer’s grip trembled around your wrists. “Stopped?”

His breathless echo of your words drew your eyes up. You saw the storm brewing in his ruby eyes, as even though he waited for you to elaborate, a million thoughts pelting at his brain like hail. 

“The pain stopped.” You said. 

Your hands felt over the bump beneath your breasts, as if you might find the imaginary ‘off’ button and turn it back on.

It was ludicrous to think about, but you immediately wished for the agony that had been crippling you to return if it meant that this baby wasn’t… wasn’t… 

Tears glistened in your eyes. Lucifer drew you to his chest in spite of the fear that was pulling his shoulders taut. 

“Wh-what did you do today? Anything different?” The ex-Angel asked shakily. 

His eyes scanned you up and down, lingering on the little dolls he’d just gifted you. 

“No… n-no, nothing different.” You said. “I was in bed all morning, and th… then Cass was here and we had tea… we went out and walked a little bit outside.” 

“Did you fall?” The King hedged. 

You gasped, eyes widening. Instinctively your arms wrapped around your middle at the foreign feeling emanating from within. 

“Did…! You fell??” He panicked, grabbing onto you like a life raft. “Where? On what?!”

His words drifted away as you were enveloped in the strangest surge of feeling you’d ever experienced. 

You could only just muster up the energy to shake your head. 

Sudden warmth. 

And pressure. 

A tiny flutter, one you’d never felt before. 

You inhaled quickly yet deeply at the feeling of something pressing against your belly-button from the inside. 

It made you grin, hands coming back to grab for Lucifer’s own and to pull them to your stomach. “They’re alive!” 

The man’s jaw went slack, staring sightlessly for just as long as it took to soak up the sudden heat there. The baby took pity on its poor, trembling father and kicked again. 

It was Lucifer’s turn to gasp, looking back and forth between you and the bump with dawning awe. 

“It is!” He laughed, a tad bit hysterically. “It — they are alive!” 

“… And… glowing…”

“You’re glowing!”

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee

[meazalykov]

so so kind

lea schuller (platonic) x lena oberdorf (romantic) x reader

summary: your jealousy blinded you from the support you had all along

warnings: jealousy, injury

the weight of the match against wolfsburg hangs heavy on your shoulders as you step onto the pitch, the red and green spreaded across the crowd gives you motivation. 

normally, the energy from the german stands fuels you, pushes you to play harder, faster. 

but today, the noise fades into a distant hum, overshadowed by the anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. 

you’ve played for bayern munich frauen for a while now. it's been four years since you left arsenal as an eighteen year old, hoping to find something new outside of your childhood club. 

every time you wore a bayern kit, you felt right at home. 

but today feels different—unsettling.

lena, your girlfriend, isn’t on the field with you. her mcl and acl injuries wil her on the sidelines for nearly the entire season, and the absence of her steady presence beside you has left a void. 

ever since she transferred from wolfsburg to be closer to you, her girlfriend of three years, you were excited to have her as a teammate. a little too excited. 

when she got injured during the national break before the olympics, your heart broke for her. she is the last person to deserve that robbery.

but still, it’s more than just missing her support; it’s the knowledge that she’s out there somewhere, watching, unable to join you, unable to share the intensity of the game and having to watch instead. 

lena likes watching games, but she hates watching when she knows that she should be out there. you feel the same for her. 

as you take your position in midfield, your eyes involuntarily search for lena on the bench. she’s sitting there, her leg propped up, her gaze fixed on the pitch with a look of hope. hoping that bayern will win– you don’t think that you’ll get used to that look, considering that lena was your rival for years. 

your heart aches seeing her like this, sidelined when you know how badly she wants to be out there. 

but before you can dwell on it, you catch sight of lea standing nearby, sitting beside your taller girlfriend and laughing at something lena said. 

lea didn’t start this match, so she sat comfortably on the bench planning to watch the first half before being subbed on in the second. 

lea’s always there, isn’t she? always so close to lena, so touchy and affectionate in a way that feels foreign to you. 

it’s not that you don’t trust lena—you do, more than anything. but the friendship between lena and lea has always made you uncomfortable, even though you know it’s irrational and stupid of you to feel.

a few weeks ago, it was a casual evening at giulia’s after a long day of training. everyone was relaxed, laughing, and enjoying the moment.

 but as you stood by the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink as sydney begged for you to try a pastry that she made, you couldn’t help but notice lena and lea across the room. they were sitting close together on the couch, lena’s arm draped casually over lea’s shoulders as they talked, their heads bent close in conversation. 

they were smiling, laughing at some private joke, completely at ease in each other’s company. lea smiled brightly as lena suddenly bursted out in laughter at something. 

the sight of them like that, so comfortable and familiar with each other, sent a very sharp ache through your chest. you felt a knot form in your stomach, a mix of jealousy and insecurity tightening around your heart. suddeny, sydney’s pastry wasn’t important or on your mind. 

you knew it was irrational—lea was lena’s best friend, nothing more—but that didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in, from making you question your place in lena’s life.

you tried to shake it off, and tried to focus on sydney again, but the image of them together wouldn’t leave your mind. it felt like a dark cloud had settled over you, dulling the joy of the sunny evening. 

you forced a smile when sydney turned around from the oven and handed you the brownie in a pink napkin, pretending everything was fine, but you could feel your mood slipping, the heaviness settling in your chest as you chewed on the chocolate dessert.

too busy staring at your girlfriend and her best friend, you didn’t notice some of your closest teammates, georgia and sam, coming to sit next to you on the kitchen island. 

georgia and sam had always been perceptive when it came to your feelings. they followed your gaze to lena and lea, then looked back at you, their eyes softening with understanding.

“y/n,” sam said quietly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “you okay?”

you nodded quickly, not trusting your voice to stay steady. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied, but even you could hear the unconvincing tone in your voice. 

“come on, we can see something’s bothering you. what’s up?” georgia raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. she gently nudged your shoulder. 

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from them. 

“it’s just–” you couldn’t say, but instead nodded toward lena and lea. 

sam expressed an “ohh” facial expression, while georgia nodded her head. 

“i know they’re just friends, but sometimes i can’t help but feel… i don’t know– jealous? i don’t know.” 

georgia and sam followed your gaze again, watching lena and lea for a moment before turning back to you. 

“i get it,” sam kerr said softly. “but you have nothing to worry about. lena’s crazy about you, everyone who knows her can see that. and lea? she’s known lena since they played at essen. they’re close, sure, but they don’t have feelings for eachother– if i knew or suspected that i would tell you. you’re the one lena’s in love with.”

sam’s words were comforting, but the ache in your chest didn’t fully ease. “i know that,” you whispered, more to yourself than to georgia and sam. 

“it’s just hard sometimes, seeing them so affectionate like that.”

“trust me, y/n. lena’s yours, and she wouldn’t trade what you two have for anything. see– she's looking at you right now.” georgia says. 

you look over at lena and she smiles at you, waving and happy seeing you in conversation with georgia and sam– she doesn’t know what you’re talking about though. all you do is give a light smile before lena turned away to talk to tuva, who sits by lea and lena. 

“thanks, georgia and sam. you guys don’t understand how much i needed to hear that” you nodded, giving a light smile at them as you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“anytime,” sam replied with a smile, then nudged you playfully. 

“i would suggest talking to them about it.” georgia adds on. 

“i can’t– lena’s gonna think i am a jealous insecure freak and will leave me. i can push it down, don’t worry.” you ramble. 

“don’t. that's how resentment starts. don’t be mad at me, but i think that is happening now.” georgia said with concern. 

at this point, sam gave a sympathetic smile before walking away– being called by klara in another room to check out something. 

“you think so?” you ask. 

“yes, you need to talk to them as soon as you can. now come on, let’s get back to the fun. no more people watching.”

you managed a small smile, letting her words sink in as you tried to push the insecurities aside. it worked, temporarily. 

back to the pitch– the whistle blows, signaling the start of the match, and you push everything else aside, focusing on the game. you will not let their moment affect yours here. if your mistakes from that cost you a loss for bayern, you’d risk your starting spot next game. 

for a while, you’re lost in the rhythm of the game, your focus sharp, your movements precise. you channel all your energy into the match, letting the intensity of the game distract you from everything else. the ball at your feet, the opposition pressing, the cheers from the bayern crowd—it’s all that matters in this moment.

you dribble around a few defenders in green before shooting the ball. you put your hands up when the ball reaches the back of the net– goal!

everyone gathered around you for a hug. you smiles in joy before jogging back to your spot. 

lena smiles at you and puts her hands up in her heart. you stop jogging, now walking, and put your hands up into a heart as well. a camera captures you putting up an “L” with one hand and your other hand making an “O”.. fans will obsess over this later. 

after halftime, you’re on the pitch when lea comes on. you didn’t show any emotion, hoping that lea makes an impact like she usually does on the pitch. you’ll give her that– she is a damn good striker. 

after wolfsburg conceded a corner kick, you stood by the back post. 

the ball is kicked by giulia and you unplant your feet– thinking of going for a header. 

the ball soaring through the air toward you. you leap up, determined to make the play, but lynn from wolfsburg shoves you mid-air.

it’s a hard, intentional shove, and you’re caught off balance. 

time seems to slow as you lose control, your body twisting awkwardly in the air. you crash into the goalpost with a sickening thud, pain exploding in your head, the metal reverberating as you flop onto the ground. 

the world goes blurry, and the sounds around you fade into a muffled haze. you’re vaguely aware of hitting the ground, of voices shouting around you, but everything is distant, as if you’re underwater or in a cave far from society.

nobody noticed at first, since the ball was kicked into the goal by lea. she didn’t care to celebrate when she noticed your injury. 

you were barely moving, which freaked her out internally. 

a voice cuts through the fog in your head—lea’s voice. she’s there, crouched beside you, her hands on your shoulder, her face pale– just like yours– but with worry. 

“stay with me, y/n. stay awake,” she’s saying in german, her voice shaking slightly. 

you try to focus on her, but it’s hard, everything spinning and out of focus. you catch a glimpse of her wide, panicked eyes, her grip on your hand tight, almost desperate, as if she can keep you tethered to consciousness by sheer will.

the weak hand of yours touches lea, signaling that you have no energy to talk. that knock fron lynn took all of the wind out of you. it was rough, the yellow from the referee proved that. 

you’re dimly aware of the medics rushing over, of being lifted onto a stretcher, but all you can think about is how lea is holding your hand, refusing to let go until she’s forced to step back. her concern, her fear, is palpable, and it cuts through the haze of pain and confusion. 

it’s a stark contrast to the distance you’ve been trying to maintain, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you’ve misjudged her and her intentions with your girlfriend all along.

later, when the dizziness has faded and you’re back in the locker room with an ice pack on your head, guilt gnaws at your gut. 

lea didn’t have to help you—she could have stayed on the sidelines since you wanted distance from her, but she didn’t. she was there for you, just like she’s always there for lena. and that’s when it hits you: lea has never hated you. she wasn’t trying to steal lena away from you. you’ve been so blinded by your own insecurity that you couldn’t see it. you’ve let your fears create a wedge between you and lea, and it’s been unfair to both her and lena.

you know what you have to do. so, after the match, you ask lea to your house. she would probably be there anyways, since it you and lena’s shared home in the bavarian countryside.  

luckily, lena had a doctor’s appointment at bayern– so she had to stay behind and encouraged you to go home since you’re tired from the match. 

it’s awkward at first with lea, the two of you sitting across from each other in the cozy living room, the tension thick in the air. 

you internally freak out when you realize that you’ve never had a real conversation with her before, not like this. now, the words feel heavy on your tongue. 

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. the silence in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating. you’re sitting across from lea, her eyes steady and patient, waiting for you to speak. 

this conversation is long overdue, but it’s hard to find the right words. finally, you break the silence.

“lea, i– i need to be honest with you about something,” you begin, your voice wavering slightly. 

“i’ve been carrying these thoughts around for a while, and i think it’s time i finally tell you– or rather ask you.”

lea’s expression is gentle, her gaze encouraging. “you can tell, or ask me anything, y/n.”

“do you like lena?” you ask, your eyebrow knitted together as lea’s face fills with confusion. 

“as my best friend, yes, anything more– i don’t.” lea answers, not trying to show that she is nervous about the upcoming conversation. 

“it’s about… about how i’ve been feeling lately. about you and lena. i know it sounds silly, and i’m trying to work through it, but—”   you pause, struggling to find the right words. 

“seeing you two together, so close, affectionate and so comfortable, it stirs up this weird knot inside me. i keep thinking, what if one day, lena decides she doesn’t need me anymore? what if she doesn’t love me anymore? what if she… decides she’d rather be with you?”

lea’s eyes widen slightly, and she opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a hand to stop her. you need to get this out, to lay everything bare.

“i know it’s irrational,” you continue, your voice cracking. “i know you’re her best friend and that there’s nothing more between you two. but every time i see you two together, laughing and being so affectionate, it feels like a reminder that i might not be enough. it’s like there’s this part of me that’s afraid lena might see something in you that she doesn’t see in me. and that thought… it terrifies me. i don’t want to be fooled, if there are feelings between the both of you– just tell me and i’ll get out of the way.”

you look down at your hands, unable to meet lea’s gaze. the vulnerability of your confession makes you feel exposed, raw.

“i’ve been pushing you away because of these feelings, and i know it’s not fair to you. i thought that if i kept my distance, i wouldn’t have to deal with these insecurities. but the truth is, i’ve let it affect my relationship with lena, and with you– and it’s not right.”

lea’s silence stretches on for a moment, and you’re not sure what she’s thinking. when she finally speaks, her voice is soft but firm. 

“y/n, i had no idea you felt this way. i’m really sorry if i’ve contributed to those feelings. but i want you to know that lena and i have known each other for years, and yes, we’re close, but that’s all it is—a close friendship. our friendship doesn’t change the fact that lena loves you. she’s never looked at me in that way, and she’s never given me any indication that she wants anything more than what we have as friends.”

you glance up, meeting her gaze. there’s sincerity in her eyes, and it’s a comfort. “but you’re right,” lea continues. 

“i’ve seen how much lena loves you. it’s obvious to everyone around us. i care about lena deeply, and because of that, i care about you too. i’ve always wanted us to get along, but i didn’t know how to close the distance between us.”

“i’ve been so caught up in my own fears that i didn’t see things clearly. i’m sorry for the way i’ve treated you.” you swallow hard, trying to process her words. 

lea reaches out, placing a comforting arm over your shoulder. “i’m glad that you found a point to start talking about your feelings now. i want us to be friends, y/n, and i want to support you and lena, not be a source of conflict.”

your heart warms as you listen to her. “thank you, lea. it means a lot to hear that from you.” 

lea smiles, a warm and understanding smile. “there is no problem, i promise. we both care about lena, and that’s something we have in common. we can use that as a way to become close.” 

you nod, feeling a sense of relief and clarity that you haven’t felt in a long time. “yeah, i’d like that. thank you for being so understanding.”

“anytime,” lea says with a reassuring nod. “now, there is just one thing—” 

your heart sunk, afraid of what lea might say. 

“you have to talk to lena now about this.” lea says, firmly. 

“i will.” you swallow.

when lea leaves your home, you feel lighter. 

just a couple of minutes later, lena comes through the door. relieved seeing you resting on the couch. 

you and lena are curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp. darker from when lea was there. the day has been long, and the tension between you has only recently begun to ease after your conversation with lea. 

"are you okay? I saw that hit you took from lynn earlier, is there anything you need?" lena asks, rubbing your head.

she hated that she could only stand and watch as the medics surrounded you earlier. she was glad that you had lea, sydney, pernille, and georgia watching over you.

lena’s presence beside you feels comforting, then it feels the same as it did before your conversation with the blonde german. what if lena doesn’t react so kindly? 

your girlfriend isn’t mean, so you take a deep breath, preparing to share your feelings with her.

"I am okay--- but lena,” you start, your voice quiet but steady. 

“i need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.”

lena looks at you, her expression soft and attentive as she plays with the hair in your ponytail. “what’s on your mind, love?”

you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “it’s about you and lea. i talked to her earlier and for a while i’ve been struggling with how close you two are. it’s not that i don’t trust you or anything—it’s just— i’ve felt this knot of jealousy and insecurity whenever i see you two together. i know it’s irrational because you;ve been friends with her since even before we knew each other, but seeing you so close with her, it makes me wonder if there’s something i’m missing.”

lena’s eyes widen with concern, and she reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face that fell out of your ponytail. 

“y/n,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “you’ve been feeling this way? i had no idea.”

you nod, trying to hold back tears. 

“i’ve been pushing myself to stay calm and rational, but it’s been hard. i guess i just needed to hear it from you. i need to know how you really feel about lea and why you two are so close.”

lena pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace. 

“lea and i have been friends for a long time, longer than you and i have been together. she’s like a sister to me. we’ve shared so many experiences, and that bond is deep and meaningful, its not going anywhere. but that doesn’t change how much i love you.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. 

“i understand that, but sometimes it feels like i’m competing with that bond. it makes me question if there’s a place for me in your life where i’m not overshadowed by your bond with her.”

lena kisses the top of your head, cheek, and nose– her touch tender and reassuring. 

“you’re not competing with anyone, y/n. my friendship with lea is important, it doesn’t come close to what i have with you. my love for you is different—it’s deeper and more significant. our relationship is something i cherish and prioritize above all.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in. “i needed to hear that. thank you for being so understanding. it’s just hard sometimes, seeing how easily you connect with her. maybe i didn’t understand because i’ve never had a close bond with a friend like you do with lea”

lena pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, her gaze intense and filled with sincerity. 

“i want you to know that my connection with lea is like that of family. it’s a bond that’s been built over years, and it’s special, but it’s not a reflection of how i feel about you. there’s no comparison. my love for you is above anything else– ever since i met you”

the taller girl takes your hair out of your ponytail gently– your hair falls down from the hair tie and she runs her fingers gently through your hair, her touch soothing. 

“if you ever feel uncertain or insecure, please talk to me. i want us to be open with each other. and remember, you’re my priority. nothing and no one will ever change that.”

you nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “i will. i just needed to know where i stand with you.”

lena smiles, her eyes warm and loving. “well you aren’t  standing now– but you’re sitting right here, with me. and that’s exactly where we belong.”

you lean in for a kiss, feeling the connection between you deepen. the reassurance and physical affection from lena makes you feel grounded and loved.

authors note: wrote this on vacay but had to fix a ton of it since it was originally on my phone LMAO

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Different Meanings (Part 18)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Danny got Ellie her treat and then practically dragged himself home. As he got closer he could sense Jason and was relieved to feel he had gone back to their home and not a safe house, Danny needed the security of their nest and his lover. That fight had gone really well, and Danny was glad to think that Dan might start doing better after this, but he was exhausted. 

He didn't bother with the door and just slid through the outer wall invisibly with a sigh. He dropped his invisibility, and then his ghostly form, letting his feet hit the floor with a soft thump. 

“I'm home,” Danny called, exhaustion dripping from his voice. The apartment smelled like fresh bread and savoury garlic but no one came to greet Danny right away, so he waited. It was a few minutes before Jason practically slunk out of the kitchen to meet Danny. “Are you done being mad?” Danny asked, his tone shamefully bitter.

“I’m so sorry Danny,” Jason said softly, helping Danny out of his Hyena costume, Danny groaned as he pulled off the stiff material breathing deeply with the restriction gone. At least he wasn’t sweaty underneath since the entire fight had been in his ghost form. 

“You should be. The meeting turned into a fucking intervention! And Batman has been snooping, or our people have been talking, or both, because he knew this wasn’t the first time. It was fucking miserable to have your siblings pitying me. You should have seen the looks on their faces, I think you broke their hearts. You have to make this right,” Danny accused him, baring his teeth at Jason. He was too tired to figure out how to say any of this nicely, besides he was still pissed and Jason needed a wake up call.

Jason winced and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. So much for trying to be a good influence on Tim, he didn’t want to know how much trust he had lost with his little brother. More important right now was how much he’d upset Danny.

“I’ll talk to them soon, I promise. You must be hungry after using your powers so much right? I made ravioli and garlic bread,” Jason asked Danny, nearly pleading for him to accept the food.

Danny was almost too tired and angry to accept, he almost said he was just going to go to bed. But Jason’s eyes were pleading and Danny couldn’t say no. “Fine,” He sighed, a ringing endorsement to be sure.

Jason nodded eagerly. “You go put on something comfortable, I’ll set the table and fix you a plate,” He promised and vanished back into the kitchen.

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before he went into the bedroom to pull on some sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt. He looked longingly at the bed for a moment before shaking his head and wandering back into the kitchen. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his lips when he saw that Jason had set the table with some fresh flowers and lit some candles. It was nice, Jason was pulling out all the stops to make Danny feel loved and say sorry with more than just words. Danny could already feel it soothing the ache in his core as he went to sit down at the table.

Jason was quick to bring over a plate for him, loaded with a generous helping of homemade stuffed pasta and sauce, with garlic bread on the side. He set it down in front of Danny and kissed his temple softly. Danny’s attempts not to smile failed and he leaned into it just a little. “I’m still mad at you,” He mumbled.

“I know,” Jason said with a rueful little chuckle before he went to grab a plate for himself, as well as a drink for Danny before sitting across from him. He was sitting on the edge of his seat like he was ready to take off again, if Danny mentioned anything else he needed or wanted Jason would be quick to get it for him. He was full of nervous energy and trying not to let his knee bouncing shake the table as Danny dutifully picked at his food.

“It's good Jason, I'm just so tired,” Danny groaned when he was about halfway done. He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his hands. 

“Just finish your plate, I know you're hungry,” Jason encouraged gently. “Then you can go to bed, and if you want me to sleep on the couch tonight I completely understand.” If Danny agreed to that Jason knew he wouldn't sleep at all but he would understand, they needed to have a serious conversation and they couldn't do that while Danny was this tired and upset.

Danny gave a half hearted snarl but he lifted his head and started eating again. “I think you should take the couch tonight,” he agreed with a sigh.

Jason's stomach dropped but he just nodded, looking down at his plate and not arguing with giving Danny the space that he needed. Danny finally finished eating and Jason got up, sliding around the table and leaning down to kiss Danny’s forehead as Jason took his plate. “Do you want seconds, Beloved?” 

“No thank you,” Danny yawned, shaking himself a little to get energy back into his limbs before he pushed his chair back and stood. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow okay? I love you.” 

“Of course, I love you too.” Jason replied, some of the tension easing from his shoulders because they would work through this. He had fucked up, but Danny still loved him, he and Danny were still committed to each other and tomorrow was a new day. They would work through this.

-----------

The bats didn't know what happened after Danny had left with Ellie, but Dick in particular hated the idea of what might have happened to Danny when he went home. Bruce wanted to barge right in but both Dick and Tim absolutely refused to let him be involved. Danny and Jason both had intense and not unreasonable mistrust for Bruce, and they loved each other regardless of if that love was healthy, they would not respond well to Bruce being involved in this, they might not react well to any external interference at all. But they needed to do something, didn't they? So a brotherly intervention it was.

They went in the morning, about ten AM and let themselves in rather then knocking and risking Jason not letting them in. They were practiced enough to avoid Jason's traps anyway, if Danny was nearby he might lash out but he's stop as soon as he realized who it was breaking into their house. 

“That better be my siblings,” Jason called from the kitchen with a growl in his voice. 

“It is. Dick and Tim,” Dick called back, following Jason's voice into the kitchen where he was up to his elbows on flour and aggressively kneading a ball of dough. 

“What do you want?” He grumbled, barely glancing at the two of them. 

“Where's Danny?” Dick asked nervously.

“He's still asleep. The fight yesterday took a lot out of him so he needs the rest. I'm making fresh bread for the whole fucking neighborhood,” Jason scowled, driving his fist into the dough again making Tim and Dick flinch a little. 

“Ya, about that Jason, about what happened yesterday-” Dick started and was cut off when Jason snarled. “Please don't get defensive Jay, we just want to help,” Dick said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

“Did you already talk to Danny about this?” Jason asked without looking up from his kneading.

“Ya but he-”

“Let me guess, he blew up on you for bringing it up?” Jason asked with a wry expression.

“Ya,” Tim sighed.

“Ya he's like that, he hates anyone questioning our relationship. He gets really defensive, I just feel ashamed. I know it's not great, but it's also not as bad as you think it is. Danny agreed to this. I mean I'm in the dog house right now for hitting him in front of you but usually he really doesn't mind. It actually helps him too I think, and he asked for this.”

“Jay, that's not-” 

“No I don't mean “he asked for it,” in the shit way abusers do. I mean literally before we were even in a relationship he broke into my office while I was having a Pit episode and basically demanded I take my anger out on him so we could get back to work faster.” Jason interrupted, shaking his head and smiling a little at the memory. He finished kneading the dough and started to roll it out, planning to make this batch into cinnamon rolls. “Wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Are you serious?” Tim broke in, sounding skeptical.

“Ya, you can ask him about it if you want to, though he’ll probably be pissed you’re interfering at all,” Jason said with a shrug. “He’s like that. We know that this… isn’t ideal and we’re working on it I promise but also, Danny is afraid of himself. He’s afraid of what he could become, how much damage he could do. Feeling controlled by me eases his fears of himself, and since I think he’s more scared of himself then just about anything, besides maybe being recaptured by the GIW, he still feels like he needs to be controlled. 

“I don’t know how long it’ll take him to trust himself again but until then I think he’s scared of things changing. I think that’s why he lashes out when people try to bring it up to him. When some of our employees tried to talk to him about it he blew up too. I’m glad you guys care about him, I’m glad they do too, but this is our relationship and we’re handling it in a way that works for both of us.”

“Jason, are you sure?” Dick asked worriedly. “You don’t exactly have a model of a healthy relationship, with how you grew up, and Bruce is not exactly a romantic. We love you, and Danny, and we just want what’s best for you I promise. We’re not here to accuse you of anything.”

“Ya, and I assume you had to bully Bruce out of coming and actually accusing,” Jason chuckled, glancing up to see Dick give a sheepish smile. Tim was still stone faced, Jason got the impression he was quite mad at him. “Thanks for that. I know the two of you mean well, and I know I fucked up yesterday.” A timer dinged and he turned to pull a couple loaves of bread that had just finished baking out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool. The next batch that had finished proofing went in.

“Babe? Who are you talking to?” Danny called from the hall and all three of them stiffened immediately. Looking like deer caught in headlights as Danny came around the corner and spotted them. “Oh,” He sounded, voice flat and face expressionless. “Is there coffee?” He asked Jason, firmly ignoring Dick and Tim.

“Ya there is,” Jason said, quickly pouring Danny a cup and passing it to him. Danny came forward and bullied Dick off of his barstool still without acknowledging him. 

“Hey-” Dick started indignantly only to shut up when Jason hissed at him.

Danny took a few long swallows from his coffee before he sighed and finally looked at Dick and Tim. “So what do you two want?” He said coolly. “You weren’t invited.”

“We were just worried about you-” Dick started and Danny hissed sharply, interrupting him. 

“We don’t want your worry. If you’re here because you’re concerned~ You can leave again,” He snarled at Dick.

“I’m not here because I’m worried,” Tim spoke up, though his expression was still blank. “I’m here because I’m hurt.” 

That made both Jason and Danny wince, Dick on the other hand looked betrayed. “Tim, this isn’t about us! This is about-”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped. “You should leave,” He told Dick before turning back towards Tim. “You can stay if you want to.”

Dick glanced back and forth between Danny and Tim, and seemed a little betrayed when Tim avoided eye contact and stayed on his stool. “Fine,” Dick sighed, sliding off his stool and resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Text me okay?” He asked softly before looking up at Jason and Danny again. “You too, I’m just… worried about both of you, I care about both of you. However I can be there for you,” he said before slipping out of the room.

Danny watched him go and waited till he heard the door close before he let his shoulders drop with a sigh, taking another sip of his coffee. Jason shook his head and grabbed a plate, pulling the cinnamon buns out of the oven and putting a fresh one on the waiting plate, sliding it across the counter to Danny. He gave Jason a grateful smile and then bit into the burning hot bun, Jason could practically hear it sizzling on Danny’s cool pallet but Danny never minded.

 “It’s good, it’ll be better when it’s cooled enough to ice,” Danny mumbled through a full mouth. Jason rolled his eyes fondly. “Right,” Danny said, putting the bun back down and turning back towards Tim. “I think I can guess why, but can you tell me how what happened yesterday made you feel so we can talk about this properly?” He asked gently. 

Tim looked down, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to organize his thoughts. To give him something else to focus on Jason poured him a cup of coffee and handed it over, Tim gave a mumbled thanks. Jason nodded and grabbed a cup for himself before turning off the oven and sitting down, he still had more dough he could bake, but he could freeze it and go back to it later too and this was more important. 

“I guess I just… look up to you guys,” Tim muttered, clutching the mug in both hands. “My parents treated their marriage like a business exchange, and then there’s Bruce… Dick has pretty good relationships but we’ve never been that close. Your relationship is-” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing a little when he burned his mouth. “I guess I saw you both as a model of a good relationship, and now…”

“It’s okay Tim,” Danny said, giving him a patient smile. “I get why you feel that way, and I’m flattered you’ve seen us as role models-”

“Though it’s a horrible choice really,” Jason interrupted, earning a gentle smack on the arm from Danny, and a suppressed snort of laughter from Tim. 

“But we’re not perfect people, and sometimes we fuck up. Jason fucked up yesterday and he knows it,” He said, glancing over at Jason who sighed and nodded, looking down. “We’re going to talk about that and work through it, but I need you to understand that it’s not as big of an issue as it would be if someone hit you, for instance, or Dick. I’m preternatural, I’m much harder to hurt, and I heal very quickly, usually in seconds. 

“More then that I think I mentioned how violence is a culture for ghosts, it’s expected, it’s a bonding activity. What Batman was talking about that happens behind closed doors? I want that, I volunteered for that. I can’t really fight back because I’m so much stronger and I worry about hurting Jason, but the violence between us doesn’t have the same meaning that it would in a relationship between two humans. 

“What Jason did last night wasn’t wrong because he hit me, he’s allowed to hit me, we’ve discussed it and we have understandings and aftercare set up. What he did was wrong because he did it in front of others, which is against the rules we’ve set up for our relationship. But most of the time it’s like… you asking Kon to spar so you can really go all out without having to worry about hurting him because he’s a lot more durable then another human would be. Do you do that?” Danny asked for clarification and Tim nodded warily, Danny nodded back. “Right, and that’s probably fun for him too isn’t it? 

“It’s a bonding activity for the two of you, you get your frustration out, and I’m sure he enjoys getting to see how strong you are.” Danny smiled mischievously when Tim blushed and spluttered. 

“Jason and I have a relationship that works for us. It wouldn’t work for two humans, but we’re not fully human, either of us. I’m only half, and even though he’s mostly human he was dead long enough to keep some of those instincts. I get mad because I don’t want to have to explain our relationship to someone who has no business meddling in it! But you deserve an explanation, so I hope it’s helped you understand better now that you have one.”

Danny sat back in his seat and sipped his coffee, Tim drank too, mechanically as he processed all that information. Jason fidgeted in his seat and tried to take inspiration from Danny’s patience as he sat quietly waiting for Tim to finish processing and think of something to say. Jason almost wanted to jump in to break the silence just because of how awkward and uncomfortable he was feeling, but that wouldn’t help right now. To keep himself from speaking he got up to mix a frosting for the cinnamon buns and frost them before handing Danny a fresh one, now iced since they were cool enough. 

“What do you think about this, Jason? I know you mentioned him asking for this earlier, but you were quiet through all that?” Tim finally spoke up, making Jason startle. 

“Ya, I agree with it. Mostly anyway, I’m working on my anger, because sometimes I don’t like the energy that I bring to our interactions, you know? Sometimes I know I’m not doing things for the right reasons, and I don’t like how often I’ve let it take control and make me fuck up. So I sure as hell wouldn’t look up to me, but everything Danny said is true too,” Jason said a bit awkwardly. 

Tim nodded slowly and let out a long breath. “Okay, I think I understand, thank you for explaining. I’ll try and explain that to Dick too, and Bruce if you don’t mind?” He asked, glancing back and forth between Danny and Jason. Danny shrugged and looked at Jason, who hesitated and then nodded, mostly because he hoped that would get Batman off their backs some. “You should call Diana though, and soon.”

“Right, I’ll do that today,” Jason promised with a soft sigh, that was going to be a hard conversation. She was going to be disappointed in him and he hated that.

“Good,” Tim said, nodding before turning his attention back to Danny. “Okay, I’m not going to say this again after this because I know it upsets you. But if anything changes or it gets to be too much you can talk to any of us. I don’t want you to think that just because we’re Jason’s family we’ll take his side.”

“No, if anything it’s the opposite,” Danny said with a scoff. “You guys are always at each other's throats. You could really do with a family vacation or something.”

“You know that’s not a bad idea,” Tim said, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“No,” Jason said with dawning horror. 

“I’ll tell Alfred to make sure Bruce doesn’t turn it into a team building exercise. Can I take some of those cinnamon buns to go?”

[wandaslittlebird]

Broken

Another cut segment of Her Special Girl Part 2! (Hopefully coming soon)

CW: Stepmom/stepdaughter, mention of strap on usage, sexual experimenting, shame, no explicit smut but still very much 18+

“Mama?” You asked, laid back against the headboard with Wanda’s head resting on your chest. The strap she’d just fucked you with was still nestled between your legs, resting sticky against your thigh. Neither of you had the energy to get up just yet, and you were more than happy to stay just like this until your stamina returned.

The night had been wonderful. You’d never felt more complete and satisfied in your life. Having Wanda inside you made you feel like the most important girl in the universe. She loved you. She took care of you. Everything was perfect.

Except your stomach tightened with a certain unshakable shame and embarrassment.

You hadn’t cum.

She had to have noticed, but she hadn’t mentioned it. Your mind swam with possibilities. She had to be disappointed, right? I mean she’d fucked you for over an hour, putting in so much hard work to make sure you felt good… all for nothing.

You weren’t sure why it hadn’t happened. You’d felt so wonderful the entire time. She had made you feel so good. But your orgasm simply never came.

“Yes, my little love?” She mumbled into your chest. She was practically collapsed against you from exhaustion. It had been a good long while since she’d fucked anyone like that.

“I did a good job, right? I was good?” You tried to keep your composure, but your voice came out far shakier than you were hoping. Your hand nervously played with her hair, braiding small bits of it at random.

She turned to the side, propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “Of course you were, angel. You did wonderful. Mama’s so proud of you.” She wiped your hair from your face, cupping your cheek to force your avoidant eyes to meet hers.

“Even though I didn’t…”

She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for you to finish your question. She knew what you were trying to ask, of course. When you didn’t continue, she reached up and squeezed your hand. “Did you still enjoy yourself?”

“Yes! Yes I-“ You felt the need to reassure her she hadn’t done anything wrong. Whatever the problem was, it was with you. You’d felt fantastic. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t cum. Your nervous ramblings were cut off when you felt her hand gently squeeze yours again. 

“Then that’s all that matters, honey,” Wanda reassured, resting her head back on your chest. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

You looked back down at her, confused. “But I know you worked really hard and I… I don’t wanna make you feel bad.”

She rubbed her hands up and down your hips in a calming motion. “I don’t feel bad, love. You were doing so good for me, telling me how much you loved me and how much you were enjoying yourself. I wasn’t doing this to make you cum, honey. I was doing this to make you feel good.”

You took a deep breath, still anxiously fiddling. You trusted her, that she wasn’t upset, but you couldn’t shake the feeling there was something wrong with you.

As if she could read your thoughts she knelt over you, straddling you on either side. You could feel the toy pressing against your stomach as she reached for your cheek again.

“You aren’t broken, detka,” she stated simply. Tears unexpectedly pricked your eyes at her words. She wiped them away with her thumb. “You don’t have to cum every time, sweetie. It’s okay.”

“But this time was special, and I really wanted to show you I was enjoying myself and… and I just don’t understand!” You cried.

“Sometimes our bodies react in ways we don’t expect,” she explained. “And each and every body is different. Some things that work for other people might not work for you. But that’s okay. I’m here to learn all about your body, and what it needs for you to feel the best it possibly can. It’s not a failure for either of us that you didn’t cum, sweetheart. It wasn’t a failure at all because we learned about a new way to make your body feel good.”

You nodded in understanding, so relieved she didn’t think you were broken or that there was something wrong with you. “So we can do it again?”

She laughed and kissed your forehead. “Of course honey. And next time we can use the vibrator if you want. I bet that will make you feel even better.”

You smiled. You were so glad you had her with you, on this journey to discovering your own pleasure. You wanted more than anything to learn what made her feel good, and it made your heart swell to think she wanted to do the same.

She collapsed against your chest again, peppering kisses across your bare skin. “And for the record,” she teased seductively, “I think I came enough for the both of us.”

[ticklygiggles]

Rite Duel 2.0

A/N: Big, big thanks to kind @eliankrios for his suppooort ❤️❤️ thank you for being patient with me! I was in some kind of writers block, but it seems okay now lol. I hope you enjoy this and, as always, I hope they're not too OOC nskdkd THANK YOU ELIAN 💕

Also thanks to my girl Ginny for letting me use her fic for reference to this one! MWAH 💕

Summary: After learning that there is a way to actually win against Cyno, Sethos finally takes his chance to try!

Lots of tickling descriptions hehe

Words: 3k+

Sethos was not, by all means, ashamed of losing against Cyno for Hermanubis’ power. If he was completely honest, some part of him told him that he had no chance against General Mahamatra himself, so he was not surprised by the result of the duel, if anything, he felt honored for fighting with him and seeing Cyno's friends dueling with and for him. Having good companions, people you can trust and who always give you a hand was very important in the desert.

Furthermore, being recognized as the heir of the Temple of Silence clan by Cyno and promising a new alliance with the city of Sumeru, was more than he could have imagined... and also gave him excuses to visit Avidya Forest frequently. There were so many things to do, see and eat and so many interesting people that he could talk to for hours on end. 

Many of his new friends were there too. Cyno, Tighnari, the traveler and even that interesting person he had met at the Akademiya. So he always got very excited when he was called by Cyno for important meetings, which usually consisted of him teaching him how to play Genius Invokation and Sethos failing miserably in every single game. 

“You need to practice some more,” Cyno said, beating Sethos for the fifth consecutive time. “Don't you play in the Temple of Silence?” 

Sethos sighed deeply, automatically throwing his cards to Cyno for him to shuffle them. “We, sadly, don't have much time to play like this. We have things to do, you see.” 

His lips spread in a mischievous smile, and although Tighnari and the traveler laughed behind their hands, Cyno simply huffed out a laugh through his nose and rolled his eyes with a little smile in his mouth.

“I see. Good thing you're now in Avidya Forest, so get ready to practice a lot.”

Sethos whined. "Technically, we're in the Traveler's wolrd..." He knew that the general wouldn't let him leave or stop the game until he defeated him at least once. 

“Cyno, you're being too harsh on Sethos,” Tighnari said, propping his chin in the palm of his hand to look at Cyno with that dreamy expression that always made Sethos blush and look away. He was sitting to Cyno's right at the four-sided table. Aether right in front of Tighnari while Paimon floated around them. 

“Yeah.” Paimon nodded. “Sethos has had his head in the sand his entire life, even a game of Genius Invokation is too much for him.”

“P-Paimon…” 

All three men around him turned their heads away, trying to contain their laughter. Sethos felt his cheeks heating up and he fanned his face with his hand.

“L-Listen, I've been attending to my… duties and- and Genius Invokation isn't exactly a popular game in the desert…” 

Cyno cleared his throat. “Anyways, the next round is about to start.”

“You got this, Sethos!” Aether cheered, but Sethos whined loudly as he saw Cyno making the first move. 

There was a time when Sethos won, but they had to play about twenty times and Sethos had only won because the traveler had tickled Cyno to distract him. 

Setho chuckled to himself and Cyno looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Who would've thought General Mahamatra was a ticklish person? Certainly not him, yet again he had never been too fixed on tickling someone, or being tickled himself. That until he met this bunch of interesting people. He still remembered that special training he had with Aether the first time he showed the world inside his teapot, but he still hadn't had the chance to give it a try… could it be that tonight was the night? 

“Hey, tell you what.”

“Hmm?” Cyno mumbled, barely paying attention. 

“Let's have… another kind of duel.” That caught everyone's attention and four pairs of curious eyes landed on him. “If you win this duel… We'll keep playing Genius Invokation until I finally win,” he said with a grin and Cyno arched an eyebrow. “However,” Sethos continued. “If I win, then you'll give me a break for at least the rest of the night.” 

“What kind of duel?” Aether voiced the question in Cyno's expression, his golden eyes shining in wonder. 

Sethos chuckled, “you'll see once we start. We won't need weapons or anything, just our bare hands,” he said, lifting both his hands and wiggling his fingers, trying to give a clue to Cyno, but the only one who seemed to understand was Aether who smiled knowingly at Sethos. “So?”

Cyno pondered for a bit, his eyes traveling from the cards to Sethos face, then back to the cards and then to Tighnari's face. 

“I think a break sounds good,” Tighnari said, his tail swinging lazily from side to side. “You both have been at this for who knows how many- 

“This is the sixth time and I think I'll lose again,” Sethos said and this time even Paimon laughed. 

Cyno nodded. “Fine. I hope you don't mind us using your yard for this duel,” he said kindly to Aether and the traveler shook his head with a smile. 

“Paimon’s so excited to see what's this all about!” 

Sethos had been feeling excited too, but as they got up from the table and walked towards the traveler's large yard, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Aether had told him that this was a good way to beat Cyno, but what if he lost too? It wasn't a thing of honor or anything like that, his brain just couldn't stand that game anymore! 

“Eep!” Sethos jolted when he felt a poke to his ribs from behind, turning around, he was glad it was Aether. “Y-You surprised me, traveler.” 

“Did you finally decide to do it?”

Sethos nodded softly. “Yeah, my head is starting to hurt. Let's see if your special training was of any use.”

Aether laughed. “I wonder too, you lost far too many times,” he reminded him and Sethos laughed when he felt a squeeze to his side. “Just remember all the spots I told you about and do not let him pin you.” 

Whoa, it really sounded like this was going to be even more dangerous than the Rite of Duels back in the Temple of Silence. Sethos nodded as he gulped, finally planting himself in front of Cyno while Aether, Tighnari and Paimon looked at them from the side. 

“So? Is it like a wrestling match?” 

“Y-Yeah, something like that. At the count of three, okay? One… two!” 

“Ack! W-Wha– hey! S-Sehehethos!” 

Sethos almost froze when he heard Cyno's giggles as his hands latched to the General's sides and started to squeeze them gently, but firmly just as Aether had told him.

“Pff– a tickle fight?” Tighnari asked in disbelief, yet a little smile still pulled at his lips. 

“L-Like Paimon said,” she chuckled softly, floating beside Aether. “Sethos has had his head too deep in the sand…”

“Place your bets, everyone,” Aether chirped. “I bet Sethos will win.” 

“No way,” both Paimon and Tighnari said and by the looks of it, it seemed like they were right. 

“AHAHAHA! n-nohoHOHo!” 

It wasn't Cyno's laughter, but Sethos. He definitely understimated Cyno's abilities. Aether made it look way too easy and Sethos was extremely ticklish! How on earth did he even think that was a good idea?! He didn't know how, but he was able to tickle Cyno for exactly five seconds before he was thrown to the soft grass, pinned by one of Cyno's knees against his lower back and both the General's hands clawing at the back of his ribs. 

“Heh, you really thought you'd win against me?” Cyno spoke over Sethos laughter and the poor heir could only kick his legs and flail his arms around. “Did the traveler tell you about this? I'm sure he'll learn his lesson later.”

Poor traveler! Sethos somehow gathered enough strength to lift his body, successfully pushing Cyno off him and causing him to fall butt first against the grass. The general didn't have time to get up before Sethos was straddling his waist, his hands vibrating at the exposed stomach. Cyno threw his head back with a cackle and he tried to fight Sethos hands, but Sethos was agile and he laughed, trying to sound teasy, but just sounding nervous. 

“H-How’s that, hmm? General Mahamatra is seriously so ticklish,” Sethos teased, one of his hands clawing at the middle of Cyno's tummy, around his belly button while the other wrapped around his hip, trying to hold him in place, but also tickling him slightly. “You gotta make sure no one knows your weakness, or else you'll get in trouble~!” 

“S-Stohohohop or Ihihihi- AHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT!” 

Sethos jolted just as hard as Cyno did when he slipped one of his fingers inside his navel. He was surprised by the nearly hysterical laughter he was able to evoke from Cyno as he lightly tickled his navel, simply wiggling his finger around inside the little spot. Sethos giggled softly, tickling really was fun. 

Feeling extra mischievous, Sethos stopped momentarily so he could place one hand over Cyno's stomach, his thumb and index finger stretching his bellybutton nicely as his palm held him somehow in place. 

“Any last words?” He asked with a big grin as his finger wiggled at Cyno. 

Through slightly teary eyes, Cyno looked at Sethos, a silly smile pulling at his lips. “D-dohon't you dahare or I'll- SEHEHETHOS!” 

After teasing the spot gently by simply circling it with the tip of his finger, Sethos finally slipped it back in it, swirling and wiggling and vibrating. Cyno's laughter came out unrestrained, loud and panicky; he jolted and squirmed and desperately pulled at Sethos arms, but Sethos had the upper hand, until he didn't. 

In the blink of an eye, Sethos was facing the vast sky inside the Serenitea Pot and Cyno was straddling him, grabbing Sethos’ hands and pulling them under his knees. 

“N-Noho! Wahahait! Lihihisten! P-Plehehease!” Sethos begged, giggling although Cyno hadn't started tickling him yet, but he didn't have to wait too long as Cyno's fingers quickly did a little taunt above Sethos’ torso before they descended against his ribcage. 

Sethos threw his head back with a tirade of loud cackles. His arms desperately pulled at his trapped hands, but Cyno was firmly pinning him down as his hands roamed freely across his ribcage. Those mean hands traveled from the highest set of ribs, so close to his armpits, to the lowest ones, pinching, poking, prodding and rubbing everything and anything on their way. 

Sethos was nearly seeing stars. Aether tickled him so much during their trainings, but never this viciously. Cyno was determined to win… even if it meant tickling Sethos to death? 

Firm, but gently fingers rubbed at each bone and space inbetween and Sethos was almost sure Cyno was using some kind of trick, (perhaps his vision?), because there was no way his ribs could tickle like that, was it?

Cyno chuckled, “were you saying? Let's hope the people of the Temple of Silence don't know their leader is this ticklish,” he teased playfully. “Or else you could get in trouble.” 

Sethos shook his head, unable to speak as Cyno started to count his ribs out loud: one, two, four– oh no, I meant three, let me start again.

One, two, three… what was the next number? Oh, four right. Let me do it again. 

I'm not sure I counted properly, what do you think, Sethos? I'll start over just to make sure. 

Sethos, where's the twelveth rib? I don't seem— to find it… can you stop squirming? Also, move your arms away, I can't count like this. 

Aether's words resounded in his head: do not let him pin you. Now he understood why.

Sethos’ laughter only grew panickier the more Cyno tickled his poor, sensitive ribs. Tears of laughter already claimed place clinging to his lashes and his flushed cheeks hurt for smiling so hard. If he didn't stop Cyno, he was definitely going to pass out and be forced to keep playing Genius Invokation! 

Growling between his laughter, Sethos was able to raise his hips, making Cyno stop right away with a gasp as he reached forward to stop himself from collapsing above Sethos. Sethos wrapped his arms around Cyno's waist and pushed him to the side, both of them rolling a couple of times before Sethos pinned Cyno on his belly.

Immediately, thumbs dug into the muscle of Cyno's lower back, rubbing deep circles and causing him to giggle brightly and kick his feet as he tried to reach behind him to capture Sethos’ hands, his spine arching up as he shook from one side to the other. Meanwhile Sethos felt like he was trembling after that brutal attack to his ribs, his bones still tingling with tickly aftershocks. 

He fluttered his fingers up Cyno's spine and dragged his fingertips down that tender spot near his sides, but not quite. He then pinched and squeezed at his lower sides and that place at his kidney area and focused in every spot that made Cyno laugh the brightest. For example, massaging his shoulder blades would make Cyno snort and placing rapid pokes up his spine would make him shriek. 

The back of his neck was fairly sensitive as well, Cyno would throw his head back as best as he would when Sethos wiggled his fingers there and snorty giggles would fill the air. The back of his ears was also- 

“AHAHAHA! CY-CYNOHOHO!”

“Cy-Cy-yehehehes.”

“Ugh,” three beings in the sides rolled their eyes, but no one noticed as Cyno had managed to get a hold of Sethos’ knees and was squeezing them. 

Sethos laughed, squeezing Cyno's waist to make him stop, but Cyno was persistant, his hands moving to squeeze at his thigh and Sethos couldn't stand it. He stood up and tried to make a run for it, but he was able to take two strides before he felt Cyno's fingers closing around one of his ankles, making him fall face first. 

“Aaaaghhh! AHAHAHA!” 

Sethos banged his fists on the ground as Cyno took a seat on his shins and started to squeeze and massage the back of his knees. Sethos screamed with laughter, how was that spot ticklish?! He tried to kick his legs, but Cyno was squeezing his own around him, limiting his movements as his fingers wiggled in the hollows in the back of Sethos’ knees; his thumbs massaging the muscle, making Sethos shriek with laughter. 

“How do you make a knee laugh, Sethos?” 

“Oh Archons.”

“He won't say it, right?” 

“I think he will.” 

“You tickle its funny bone.” Sethos broke into loud laughter as Cyno tickled both the front and the back of one of his knees. “Very funny, right? I'm glad you appreciate my jokes.”

Sethos shook his head, desperately trying to crawl away from underneath Cyno, and shrieking again when now his other knee was under attack. He never knew knees could be ticklish, but of course he had to learn this fact first hand, huh? 

“Uff-!” Cyno quickly moved off Sethos when a leg almost hit his groin. Sethos stood up quickly, but then slumped again when his eyes caught Cyno's foot. General Mahamatra read his intentions, and tried to escape, but he was already tired and uncoordinated, so it was not difficult for Sethos to catch one of his ankles, dragging him towards him. 

“Where are you going, General? The duel is not over until one of us asks for mercy," Sethos said breathlessly and with a huge smile on his face. "Are you suddenly scared? You didn't want me to tickle your feet? What a shame~.” 

Sethos straddled Cyno's ankles, pressing them together between his legs and his blunt nails quickly went to work all over the soles, skittering up under his toes and down to the hollows of his ankles. Cyno became almost hysterical; his toes curled tightly, but Sethos easily pushed them back on one foot with one hand and used the other to scratch at the sensitive skin under and between them. 

“SEHEHETHOS! Hohohold ohohon!” 

“Do you yield? I will only stop if you give up!” Setho yelled over Cyno's loud laughter, his evil fingers not giving the Mahamatra the chance to catch his breath as Sethos tickled his sole mercilessly. 

Cyno was nearly howling behind him, squirming like a little fish out of water as Sethos’ fingers skittered across the balls of Cyno's feet and then to his arches and next to his toes that made Cyno scream with laughter. 

“Your toes are so ticklish,” Sethos commented, not really teasing, but if Cyno felt it that way, that was a plus. “How do you go around life being this sensitive?” 

Sethos was not expecting an answer from the cackling Cyno, he actually thought he was going to give up at any second now… until he felt a hand grabbing his hip. 

“EEK!” Sethos' immediately rose to his feet, brushing his hip to get rid of the tingly sensation that touch caused. “Th-Thahat s-spot is off- off limits!” 

Although breathless and tearing up, Cyno smirked, also getting on his trembling feet. “You n-never said anything… haah… about ‘off-limit spots’.”

Sethos gulped before he started to run away from Cyno; he wanted to say that he did run a lot, but only after three steps, Cyno was catching and throwing him back to the grass before straddling Sethos' thighs. 

“No!” Sethos' shrieked, laughing as he tried to grab Cyno's hands that were taunting him. He wiggled his fingers high, slowly lowering them towards Sethos' hips. “W-Wahahait up! Y-You must have a w-weak spot, s-so–”

“I do,” Cyno nodded, his hands finally descending to Sethos' hips. “It's a shame, for you of course, that you don't know where that is.” 

Sethos couldn't care less about what Cyno was saying at that moment. He was too busy laughing his head off and desperately trying to push Cyno's hands away as the General pinched and squeezed at his hips. Sethos howled in hysterics, he arched his spine and tilted his head back, overwhelmed by the electrifying tickly touches climbing from his hips to his brain. He couldn't do anything against those evil fingers exploring his most ticklish spot. 

“Hehe, how's this, Sethos? Is it ticklish? Look how much you're dancing, you're definitely loving this, huh?” 

Sethos shook his head, squealing and squeaking between hysterical peals of laughter. “NOHOT THEHERE! AH! P-PLEHEHEASE!” He begged, tears falling the sides of his face. “STAHAHAP! P-PLEHEHEASE!” 

“Of course,” Cyno said, chuckling softly. “You just gotta admit you give up. Easy, right?”

“N-Nohoho! J-Juhust– AHAHAFIHIHINE! Fihihine, I gihihive up! PLEHEHEASE!” 

Cyno stopped, lifting his hands off the other's body and Sethos went limp, laughing and giggling and rubbing at his hips to get rid of the residual feeling of Cyno's fingers. 

“I hope you're ready to properly learn how to play Genius Invokation, Sethos,” Cyno said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Sethos with a smirk. “I won't show mercy this time.” 

Sethos let out a whiny giggle, letting his head fall against the grass. “N-Nehext tihihime… I'll- I'll definitely wihin.” 

“Mhmm, of course you will,” Cyno chuckled, extending his hand for Sethos to take. “Now let's go, you won't leave Avidya Forest until you win against me at least five times.” 

Sethos whined, grabbing Cyno's hand and standing on shaky legs. He looked over at Aether and shrugging his shoulders, he smiled sheepishly. 

Next time for sure! 

BONUS SCENE 

“You owe us, Traveler,” Paimon and Tighnari said with a smug grin and Aether whined. 

“I really thought Sethos would win… he still has a long way to go, it seems.” 

“To be fair, it's hard to win tickle fights against Cyno,” Tighnari mentioned, shrugging his shoulders as the three of them made their way back to the table where another Genius Invokation duel was taking place

“I can win against him.”

“Haha, yes, but after how many tries was it?” Paimon teased and she and Tighnari laughed at him. 

Yeah, Sethos really had a long way to go!

[vhstown]

hobie green

— hobie brown x gn!reader

summary: You never knew punks could be into gardening — or into you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, brief mentions of politics, fluff, not very edited

a/n: based on a silly headcanon me and @qiuweyballs came up with. 99% identical to my tag team fic arrest me i love friends to lovers (just lovers in my drafts prommie)

There were a lot of things you didn't expect about your friend Hobie. The first thing was that he was Spider-Man (but you kind of figured after all those patch-up sessions at your place.) Second, was that he lived on a boat — not the most outrageous thing; somewhat non-conformist, somewhat Hobie-like — he wasn't the only boater in Camden. The third thing you didn't expect, however, was that this “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and whatever other label he'd projected, would have so many… plants.

“You're lookin’ at me funny.”

The “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and now plant dad in question sat with his feet propped up against one of the many windows of his canal boat, an unassuming eyebrow raised.

“…Nah, don't worry about it,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you tried not to knock anything over, taking in the overflowing greenery of the room.

There was pretty much every plant you could think of: regular household plants under the windows, a tomato stalk in the corner, small cacti in odd places — he even had a pretty well-maintained chilli plant, bathing more gloriously in a patch of sunlight than you ever could. The boat felt more like a disorganised plant shop than a home, if it weren't for the rowdy radical posters and punk collages peeking in-between. Maybe these plants were as much like your friend as all the anarchy-themed decoration he’d made himself — or Hobie had just stolen a boat with a lot of plants in it.

Squeezing past some more foliage, you sat beside Hobie on his tiny canvas couch. He gave you a glance of acknowledgement before reaching for his guitar, setting it between his kicked-up legs as you tried to get more comfortable. The red coating of the instrument had almost entirely peeled off, instead covered by loud stickers and scratchy writing. You weren’t sure what any of it really meant, or why his guitar wasn’t tuned in the first place (it never seemed to be when you two were hanging out) — but right now, you were wondering why he was being so quiet. The silence was nice, though, so you didn’t let yourself think of anything else to ask.

Swaying gently from time to time, the canal boat hummed with the splashing of water and faint strumming of Hobie’s guitar. These quiet, almost tranquil moments were unexpected for someone as spontaneous as Hobie, but they were also welcome, you decided. The world was falling apart, but it was nice to be away from that in the middle of a canal with your best friend — even with his many plants.

You felt a tug behind your back, realising Hobie was trying to get something. Mumbling a quick sorry, you moved to let him get the thing you were sitting on. It was a pink jumper — much too small to be his. After carefully draping it over the backrest, he cracked a smile at you.

“Gotta give that to Gwendy,” he told himself, nails tapping on the back of the guitar neck.

Gwendy (Gwen? Wendy?) was a friend he'd made recently, and you’d never seen a trace of her despite the fact that they supposedly lived together. That was until now; the sweater looked nice, soft, high-quality — nothing like anything you could afford here. Maybe she was well-off. How old even was she? Did Gwendy like plants too?

“Yeah? Is she your roommate?” you inquired, leaning forward to look at him. “Boatmate?”

“You sayin’ this isn’t a room?” Hobie set his guitar against the wall as if the conversation was suddenly more important.

“More like a garden.”

He tilted his head to the side at your response, finally meeting your eyes with his own glinting with amusement.

“You want a tour, then? Private — totally elitist.”

“Have you got more plants or something?”

He crossed his arms at you. “You’re actin’ like it’s a problem.”

It wasn’t a problem, per se, you just couldn’t imagine living with so many plants. Maybe it was his superhuman reflexes that kept him from slipping and smashing his face into a plant pot; you almost tripped on some dead roots earlier.

“Nah nah, it’s not. You got uh… free oxygen.” Clearly there wasn’t enough oxygen going to your brain at that moment if that's the only thing you could come up with. You held back a sigh; you’d never be as fast as Hobie. He just snickered.

“They privatise oxygen too?” Not his most clever quip, you thought.

“Maybe. Is that why you have so many plants? To breathe better?”

Hobie gave you a frown. If you didn't know better, you might've felt bad. “You don’t want the tour?”

“Go on,” you beckoned, dryly.

“Get up, then.”

“Can’t be bothered.” The sofa creaked as you leaned back on it, folding your arms as if you were going to sleep. If it was still quiet, maybe you could’ve actually fallen asleep to the gentle rocking motion of the boat.

“You come over to have a snooze?” he teased, leaning over until you pushed him away — one of his usual ways of driving you mad; you wouldn’t have it. “Want to be my boatmate too?”

“Wouldn’t mind.” The words came out by themselves, but you figured they might be true.

“Gwendy’s only here sometimes — you could.”

“I’d miss my place,” you objected, feeling slightly uncertain at the idea now. It was probably better if that weird feeling in your chest whenever you saw Hobie wasn’t a constant in your life anyway.

“Your place is only good for the pub down the road.” Maybe so — you two certainly weren’t good for the pub, though. All you did was shrug in response.

Hobie tapped his foot for a moment, appearing to muse about something. Before you knew it, he slid his hand between your back and the sofa and you were suddenly your feet in one swift motion.

“Hey—” The floor creaked as he started walking you out to the front of the boat, arm slung around your shoulder. You sighed reluctantly at him, but his grin just widened.

“You starting the tour from here?” Despite the cool wind now rushing past the two of you, your tone came out less energetic than you’d like.

Your heart dropped for a moment as Hobie let go of you, suddenly jumping up backwards onto the barriers. He crouched easily on the edge as you let out a small breath of relief. Even if there was no chance he’d fall into the water, you’d never get used to that.

“Nah, no tour,” he replied, hands on his knees as he looked down at you with squinted eyes. “I ain't no elitist.”

The lingering fear in your chest from Hobie’s stunt died down, and the way the late-day sun was hitting his face replaced it with that weird swishing sensation you could never get used to.

Honey-gold sunlight reflected off of his skin, his face shimmering where there were angles and glowing softly where there weren’t. His eyes glistened like copper, your own face in the reflection like the rich people on coins as you searched for any trace of amusement in his expression. You couldn’t find anything; he was just looking at you. The swishing became more like a crashing tide, your chest growing tighter. Maybe you should’ve feigned interest in the plants when you could.

“…Okay,” you managed, after realising that you’d been staring for a while. Tearing your eyes away from the tall, glistening silhouette of your best friend who was sitting like the figurehead of a sailing ship, you looked back into the boat house before another little plant caught your attention. It was the only plant sitting outside — a young rosemary with a paper tag attached to it.

You squatted down to look at it, figuring that Hobie had nothing to say right now. Taking the tag in your hands, you read “Helen”, written in lovely cursive writing.

“Helen… you name your plants?” It was too nice to be Hobie’s handwriting, but you decided to joke a bit anyway.

“Yeah,” he answered, deadpan, and you tried not to let him catch your eyeroll. “Some lady comin’ through Regent’s gave it to me.”

“People give you plants?”

“All the time, actually.”

Huh… It made enough sense. You did see your fair share of plants in other boats; maybe people wanted to give Spider-Man a thanks or something, or just get rid of some plants they get lying around. You recalled aloe plant you saw earlier, having almost slipped on the pile of dead roots beside it — interesting to gift a rotting plant. It looked like it needed a lot of care; you wondered who could get an aloe to that point.

Deciding to sit by the much nicer rosemary plant with your back against the doors, you caught the faint aroma of the leaves. If Hobie already had vegetable plants, he’d probably make good use out of this one once it got a little more mature. Maybe as a seasoning, or make it into an oil somehow, or just leave it as decoration. There was a lot you could do, you realised, and having plants was starting to look just a little cool. Everything Hobie did was cool — as much as you didn’t like to admit it.

“…What’s up with you?”

Hobie’s voice caught you off guard. You looked back to see that the figurehead was now sitting opposite you on the floor of the little outdoor cockpit, hands loose between his bent knees.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t just tell like that, could he? Nothing was different… until recently. Until you realised you had that feeling.

“You're quiet,” he stated, though his tone wasn't all that serious. “Y’don’t come over, or come see old Hobie.”

“Old Hobie,” you repeated, half of a laugh coming out of your mouth. “Like Old Tom?”

Tom was the bar owner of the pub you frequented — if your antics could be considered “frequenting”. The two of you were probably the reason why he was “Old” Tom.

“Need to see that geezer,” Hobie mused, leaning back against the wood with a creak.

“A lot of people you’ve gotta see.” It came out far too sardonic, and you held your breath like you’d just placed a bet.

Hobie stuck his bottom lip out, lip ring catching the light. “Like you.”

The sun had faded by now, but that feeling hadn’t, you realised.

“I'm right here,” you replied.

“I brought you.”

“It’s not like I knew which out of the hundred boats was yours. Half of them’ve got plants anyway.”

“You do now.”

“I guess.”

Stretching a little, you shifted to sit more like Hobie, leg brushing against the rosemary leaves for a moment. Hobie cracked his knuckles in the meantime, and you realised you hadn’t really seen him in a while. It wasn’t all your fault, he just kept disappearing. Maybe you should stop waiting for him to come to you all the time.

“I’ll see you again before you have to go to the care home, Old Hobie,” you muttered, getting a snicker out of him.

“They’ll never get me in one of those.”

“You don’t wanna be an elder punk?”

“Not in them institutions — I’ll bail you out as well.”

You never imagined the thought of growing old with someone would go in this direction. Well, it was Hobie.

“I appreciate it, Old Hobie” you replied, though not too enthusiastically. Hobie smirked.

“Come pub with me, then. Don’t need ID if I’m retired.” Despite your best efforts, you smiled just a little.

It wasn’t like you gave Tom ID anyway, but you found it amusing regardless. Maybe it was the idea of being like those old people at the pub: loud, obnoxious, opiniated… Nothing much would change, actually.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How come?” Hobie leaning forward on his knees, as if to taunt you. “Scared you’ll get pissed like last time?”

“I did not get pissed!” you retorted, face aching with an incriminating smile. Your stomach churned with the memory of that night — or lack thereof.

“Had to actually peel you off me. My Spider Powers didn’t even help.”

You groaned and laughed at the same time, trying to ease the embarrassment by putting a hand on the plant pot; it was cool, and you felt a chip near the rim.

“Don’t lie.”

“Never did.”

“Fine, yeah.” It sounded like a bit like an admission to a crime; maybe getting that drunk was a crime. “Don’t wanna get pissed like last time.”

Hobie’s smirk faded a bit, before he let out a sigh — those were rare for him, you thought.

“Seriously though, we gotta go again sometime — it’s on you, yeah?”

You frowned at that, but it got no reaction out of him. “You’re the worst.”

“Like I don’t know.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but Hobie didn’t seem to question it.

Maybe he did actually know what was going on with you, even if you never tried to make a move. It was possible — the observant prick. A prick with a green thumb and looked like he’d been kissed by the sun itself and that you couldn't get out of your head.

If he did know, you wished he'd say something, at least.

Your hand lingered on the pot, and the paper tag found its way into your hands again.

“Helen,” you stated, glimpsing at the nice handwriting.

“You gonna call it that now?”

“Got a better name?”

“Yours,” he replied, too easily.

You weren’t sure what a rosemary plant was like, but it sounded enough like a compliment. Did rosemary have a meaning? Hobie wasn’t thinking that deep, of course. Not about things like labels, no matter how many you had for him.

“Am I like a rosemary?”

“Dunno. If you were a plant, I’d keep you though.”

That made you laugh, albeit awkwardly.

“…What are you on about?” you muttered, shaking your head. “Random… You keep like, any plant anyway.”

“I keep the ones I like.”

“Your boat's a greenhouse. Maybe you just like every plant.”

“Maybe I just like you.”

A jolt of pain ran in your mouth, eyes almost squeezing shut — you’d bit your tongue. Hobie was silent, so you couldn’t be.

“Maybe,” you murmured through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” he repeated, with his usual unbothered amusement that drove your feelings back into hiding. Hobie Brown — “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist — your best friend.

You’d get over it, you told yourself — not for the first time.

Now with a weird attachment to the plant, you tried to seem interested in the tag again — you could say it’d… grown on you. Would he make a joke like that? You wanted to crumple the tag. It looked too nice to do that, so you turned it around to look at the back instead.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship, love.”

A dry laugh escaped your mouth; even this plant was mocking you. Maybe it felt sorry.

“What’s got you laughin’?” You almost forgot about Hobie; that would’ve been nice. No, you’d get over it soon.

“You better name this plant after me,” you joked, more so to yourself, and in a very much self-pitying way even though he wouldn’t get it. As Hobie’s gaze trailed to the tag, that feeling in your chest threatened you, so you ripped it off before he could see it.

Thwip! Mistake. In a second, the tag was in Hobie’s hand. His face was unreadable as he looked at the back, no longer gold with sunlight.

“Yeah,” he mused, folding over the edge with his nail as his eyes met yours. You tried not to bite your tongue again.

“Yeah…?” You couldn't even give him an awkward laugh.

He held up the tag to show you the folded bit. There was a single word, the rest cut off — “love.”

“Your name fits pretty well.”

Your mouth was so dry, not even a cactus could live in it.

“I’d rather you not be a plant, by the way,” he continued, despite how lost you must’ve looked. “Be yourself, at the pub, tomorrow — opening time. Dress how you want.”

No words were coming out of your mouth. Hobie didn’t need you to say anything, though.

“It’s on me.”

You couldn't leave him hanging. You also couldn’t shy away forever, not when it was right in front of your face. Not when he'd just asked you out.

”…Like a date?”

“Better than a date.”

A smile formed on your lips. After that feeling had been buried under the soil for so long, it was starting to blossom, like the little blue flowers on a rosemary bush.

“Okay,” you replied, winning something that was neither a grin nor a smirk from him — a smile, warm like sunlight, and just like yours.

“Okay.” Hobie chucked the tag back to you, the edge still folded over as you took it in your hand.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship,”

“love.”

“I’ll let you keep it, if you want.”

Your smile turned into a grin as you brushed your fingertips over the leaves. “I’ll think about it.”

Spice, oil, decoration — this plant had one more use: getting you a date.

Maybe you liked plants more than you originally thought.

🕸️🔭🎸

thank you for reading !! honestly the friends to lovers thing was so not planned i just wrote this for fun (intended to be a drabble / imagine but it turned into this) less friends more lovers in the future hopefully?

thank you again to my friend chewy ^^ tom is actually his chr + the aloe plant detail

reblogs & feedback are super appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

[bibibbon]

I don't think a lot of Aizawa stans realize or care about how all-take-and-no-give his relationships with Mic and Midnight are.

I read somewhere that Mic and Oboro were friends longer than either of them had known Aizawa, and Aizawa's over here acting like only he lost him. Mic canonically put his own grief on the back burner to be there for Aizawa, and how is he thanked? By constantly being told to shut up and being belittled.

Midnight (maybe?) gave Aizawa the teaching position at UA to help with his grief. Now, she shouldn't have done that, especially since Aizawa had made it clear that he didn't want to teach, but he could have put his foot down and not taken the position! Instead, he makes an ass of himself to everyone around him - his students in particular. In a setting where common sense exists, this would give Midnight a bad look, but you know Aizawa doesn't care about that. He doesn't even seem to care that Midnight DIED, though that's mostly due to her death being purely for shock value 🙄.

Again, in a setting where common sense exists, Mic and Midnight would have called him out on his bullshit a long time ago and probably would have asked themselves, "why are we still friends with this guy?" It's especially upsetting, since he's compared to Kakashi so much. Kakashi has plenty of his own issues, but he's way more of a genuine friend to Guy than Aizawa supposedly is to Mic and Midnight.

Hi @nutzgunray-lvt 👋

Iam not sure if it is canon that present mic and oboro have been friends for a longer time but if it is thats not a good look on aizawa.

From the little we see of the rooftop squads friendship a lot of it does consist of present mic and midnight giving to aizawa than aizawa giving to either of the two.

For example, present mic was there for Eraserhead after the first war arc and present mic was also there for eraser after the usj arc. Midnight did recommend and nudge aizawa into becoming a teacher at UA and in the vigilantes manga it was thanks to her that oboro, mic and aizawa got an internship at a hero agency.

However, this begs the question what does aizawa do for his friends?

Nothing. (Or well canon doesn't show us that he does anything. Do correct me if Iam wrong of course)

Now sure you can definitely point fingers at horikoshi and say that he simply didn't actively include present mic and midnight in his story and that they were mainly there to prop up or almost be tools for aizawa and his development and to that I do agree but it doesn't change the fact that this is the dynamic that canon seems to establish between these characters.

I suppose you're talking about this scene when aizawa interrupts present mic telling him that midnight died and also present mic expressing his grief.

Now I won't deny that this is incredibly rude on aizawas part and that if aizawa were to listen and offer support it would at least show that he does give back to his friends but I suppose horikoshi thought it would be more important to give us "dadzawa". Personally, I do believe that there could of been a balance that we could of indeed received present mic expressing his feelings and aizawa offering support while having them talk and debrief about the entire situation yet we didn't get that.

I have seen the rebuttal that aizawa only did this because he didn't want to hear that midnight died and that he was also burying his emotions but I do suppose that's up to interpretation. My main problem is that midnight's death doesn't get brought up again after this moment between this duo/trio (if they count kurogiri).

In the end even after kurogiri dies due to bakugo it all feels empty and it's not properly talked about between mic and eraser who witnessed this moment.

I think that the kurogiri/oboro reveal really could of shown us more of all the characters sides. It could of shown us then caring and supporting eachother and also seeking comfort in eachother. There were many moments where we could of seen aizawa comfort or give to his friends but we don't and I really don't think that's supposed to be intentional writing from horikoshi.

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[hey-august]

Aftercare (Buggy x GN!Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, mentions of sex, things get emotional at the end - poor communication, mentions of insecurities and crossed boundaries, crying, but things are alright in the end. Word count: ~1k A/N at the end. 👀

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When Buggy gets into aftercare, he does it so right. It takes time (a lot of time) and multiple tries for him to understand what aftercare is, why it’s important, and what to even do. And once it clicks, he is all in.

At first, he’d try to clean up using whatever was around. Discarded clothes were the usual, but the scolding he received when he tried to pull off a pillowcase turned things around. A little. After that, he’d send a hand off to grab a towel, if you didn’t grab one beforehand.

Eventually, Buggy realized he could keep towels near the bed. It worked out well, actually. He found space for a few different sizes - small washcloths, hand towels, and full-size towels - so there were always a few options. The washcloths were also helpful whenever he forgot to wipe off his face paint before bed.

If you two banged anywhere other than the bedroom, he’d offer his bandana to clean up. That was acceptable the first few times, but it was still kinda gross. He noticed the grimace you made one time and started carrying alternatives. Spare (unworn) bandanas, which worked as an extra accessory. Or scarves tucked in a sleeve, which could be used as an impromptu magician’s trick.

Want a snack? This was never a problem for Buggy, actually. He had food hidden around the bedroom. Everywhere. Near his bedside, in the closet, and in his desk. If you wanted something in particular, he would scrounge it up and grab food for his own munchies. Oh, thirsty? For something that wasn’t alcohol? He’d get a drink if you asked, or if he went off to find you food. It's easiest to keep the carafe in the room filled.

Ready to cuddle? Hell yes. Buggy is a glutton for attention, so cuddles are no problem. Honestly, he falls asleep most of the time afterwards. You learned to nudge him to clean up and use the bathroom before curling up with each other. He complained far less once you explained that he didn’t need to leave the bed entirely to take care of those things. His legs and a spare hand would get up and go to the bathroom while you snuggled his top half, pressing your chest on his bare back.

And on the flipside, sometimes Buggy would get incredibly sentimental and touchy towards you. Running his fingers through your hair, propping himself up so he could look at your face, wrapping himself around you and hiding his face in your neck. Anything to keep you close.

Talking was the hardest part of aftercare. Buggy liked to talk about what was good. What turned you on, what he enjoyed, what would be fun to try next. But talking about anything harder was…difficult. Things that wouldn’t be fun to do again, comments that hurt feelings, and the periodic uncomfortable emotions after sex - spurred on by self-doubt, body image issues, or outside stress. Buggy would clam up or leave if he thought any of those topics were coming up, which would only add to the problem until it exploded and you two were arguing into the night.

Buggy only realized how important this part was when you started pulling away. You became more closed off, not talking about yourself as much. Sure, you’d tell each other in the moment if you disliked anything, but you stopped checking in again afterwards. You still seemed bubbly and happy, but he could see shadows on your face.

You’d go through the motions after sex - nestling into him to cuddle, telling him what you enjoyed, making sure he was content, but that was it. You stopped pressing, stopped trying to build a new boundary. 

That hurt him. It ate at him every time you avoided the topics he also avoided. Eventually, the pain came out.

Your head was resting on his shoulder and your fingers stroked the cerulean hair on his chest. His hand was on your shoulder as he held you close. You both just finished talking about the session - only the positives - and the room was silent. Buggy felt the quiet suffocating him, especially because he could tell you had moved on. You weren’t waiting to talk about anything else, since you were already resigned to the premature end of the conversation. 

Pressing his lips against your forehead, Buggy blinked back tears you couldn’t see. “Was there anything you didn’t like? How do you feel?” The questions were gravelly and hesitant.

You could hear the beating in his chest get faster. You tried to push yourself up to look him in the face, to see what game he was playing, but he gripped your shoulder tighter and kissed your forehead again.

“Please tell me, I wanna know…” He spoke the words into you.

Hot tears fell on his chest, trapped between your squished cheek and his skin. You wrapped an arm around his torso and squeezed, wanting him as painfully close as possible. And then you shared. You unloaded. There was a lot you held in and once the dam broke, you couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want you to stop. 

You told him about your insecurities. About things that you already said you didn’t like, but more. Why you felt the way you did. Why sometimes it was okay and sometimes it wasn’t. On bad days, you don’t really want to be called certain names. When you don’t feel good about yourself, there are things he does that make it better and things that make it worse. 

Buggy nodded as you spoke, his face still pressed against the top of your head. His sniffles matched yours. He asked questions. He cared. And when you were done, it was his turn.

The conversation went long into the night. At the end, you were both drained. You felt a headache coming on from all the crying. Buggy’s eyes stung from the tears and remnants of face paint. You two looked awful, honestly. One look at each other and you both broke into tears that walked hand in hand with laughter. How could you let it get this bad? That was terrible! And yet, you did it. You both made it through and things were okay.

Once you both ran out of steam, it was time for food, some water, and a shower. Then sleep, full of sweet, sweet dreams.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: Wanna know what you did that Buggy didn’t like? It was when you said, “I’m going to screw you until your fucking nose rolls off.”

He was very upset about that. Very. Upset. Which is understandable, really. You’ve both moved past it now and every once in a blue moon he’ll joke about it - if you’re getting on his nerves, Buggy will tell you that you’re going to make his nose roll off.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: So Tuesday was a mess.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.

“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”

He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.

“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.

You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.

“Both,” you admit.

“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”

You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.

“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”

You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.

“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”

“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”

You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?

“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”

You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”

“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”

🕊️

You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head. 

"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."

"No, no, it's... I was thinking."

"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"

"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."

"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"

You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.

"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."

"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."

"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.

You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.

🕊️

You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.

After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.

You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it.  You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.

You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.

“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”

He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.

“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”

“Surprise?” You wonder.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”

You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…

“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”

You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.

“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”

“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”

He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.

“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff. 

“Smells nice,” you assure him.

“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.

You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.

“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.

It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.

“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.

“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”

“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”

He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”

You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.

You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.

You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.

Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.

You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?

The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.

You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.

The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.

You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!

You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.

You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”

Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.

His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.

“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”

He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.

You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.

[shadowdaddies]

Legs

Cassian x Reader smut

A/N: I haven't written for Cassian in so long and I know he would like AC/DC and ZZ Top, and this gif got me thinking what if it was "hold onto the handlebars?" (modern au)

Song inspo: Legs by ZZ Top

Warnings: basically pwp, motorcycle sex, oral f!receiving, light breath play, minors dni

It was another late night, your boyfriend Cassian working on his motorcycle after hours at the garage. He’d been working long hours recently, focused on his job, but tonight you would get his focus back on you.

You strolled into the garage, donning only a black leather jacket that buttoned down to your mid-thigh with matching heeled boots. Cassian didn’t hear your approach over his music, blaring as he worked on his bike. You smirked, admiring the view of him kneeling by the back wheel as you swung your leg over the side, straddling the leather seat.

You unbuttoned your dress, glancing over your shoulder to see that Cassian had now noticed your presence. Noticed was not a sufficient word - you watched as he gaped at you, standing from the ground, as he took in your outfit - dropping his tools, the metal unceremoniously clattering to the floor.

Singing along to the music he was playing, you shrugged off your “dress”, revealing the intricate red lace lingerie you had on underneath as you leaned back against the seat of the bike, hair splayed across the rear seat, one leg propped on a handle bar. You gave Cassian a dazzling smile as you stretched along the leather seat, arching your back in a way that accentuated your breasts. 

Cassian tore off his work gloves, tossing them behind as he tracked your movements with a hungry gaze. He quickly approached you, gently placing one hand on your throat to keep you in place as he straddled where your waist was positioned on the seat. He leaned down - the hand around your throat tilting your head to the side as his thumb stroked your chin - and licked a stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe, biting and tugging as he ground his hips against you. 

You could feel his hard length through his jeans as he licked the shell of your ear and murmured, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” He tilted your head back to face him, tracing his thumb down the hollow of your throat towards your chest, a predator playing with his prey. You gasped, rolling your hips up into him as you breathed out, “you’ve been so busy lately, Cass. I was concerned you were finding your work more interesting than me.” 

Cassian’s expression changed entirely at your words, a gentleness in his eyes as he took your face in his hands. “My love, you are more important to me than anything. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you aren’t.” He kissed you deeply, his tongue flicking against your lip as a request for entrance which you granted. He rolled his tongue against you in pace with his hips, pulling away to press a kiss to your forehead. Cassian smirked at you, “let me take care of you.” He stood up, moving off of the bike as he helped you sit up. You moved to get off of the bike, but Cass shook his head, and with a feral grin, nodded towards the front of the bike. “Hold onto the handlebars.”

You obeyed, sitting on the motorcycle just as you would if you were driving it, only for Cassian to walk around behind you and grab your hips. He pulled you up into a standing position, directing you to stay standing as he pushed your chest down against the bike. You were now standing there - clad in your lingerie and boots as you straddled the bike, ass in the air while you held the handlebars for support. 

“Fuck,” you heard Cassian breathe as he stood behind you, massaging your ass and landing a smack to your cheek that caused you to yelp. He chuckled at your sensitivity, continuing to admire your ass and legs while he ran his hands down them. You gripped the handlebars as he snapped the waistband of your panties, biting your lip to stifle your moan while you wiggled your hips in a silent request for more. 

Cassian obliged, running his finger along your center. “Fuck, angel, I can feel how wet you are through your panties.” You moaned, keening into his touch as you begged for more. Cassian ripped your panties off, your protests silenced when you felt Cassian’s broad hands holding your thighs as he licked a broad stripe up your core. He groaned at the taste, diving in as he thrust his tongue inside of you, swirling and licking your core before moving to suck hard on your clit. You moaned loudly, writhing against him as you struggled to keep your hold on the bars for stability. 

You felt Cassian straddle the bike behind you, keeping it from shaking as he doubled his efforts, curling a long finger inside of you as he sucked and licked your clit with his wicked tongue. You moaned out his name, earning a groan and another smack to your ass as he added another finger. That sent you over the edge, vision blurring as you chanted Cassian’s name, one of his hands moving to support your hips as your shaky legs gave out beneath you. 

Cassian moved your hips forward, coming to sit behind you on the motorcycle as he held you to his chest, your head lolling back to rest against him while you caught your breath. Cassian kissed your temple, stroking your hair as he smirked against your skin. “I hope you can catch your breath, sweetheart. I haven’t even taken you for a real ride yet.”

[zombie-bait]

Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

[spheciform]

Sad she only got one album out before everything went to shit, but what's a girl to do?

This is a fake album cover for my dnd character, Helvia, and her fake band THREAT DISPLAY!!! Context for this piece and Helvia as a whole under the cut because once I start I can't stop talking about her <3

SO the campaign hasn't started yet, but Helvia is my character for a science fiction campaign. She's robot!!! Well I guess that's obvious now. BUT the basic gist: Helvia was manufactured as an industry-controlled and maintained electronic "punk" singer. When the project ended up making no money, everything related to it (including her), was abandoned. Three years later, she wakes up out of stasis with no clue what happened, an insane debt, and a failing memory. You will look at her !! Her full name is Helvia Cardinalis. This is just a genus of mantis it doesn't have any special meaning I just like bugs <3

-she has generated "background" memories of an entire life, but there's no telling which of those are real. I don't actually know which of them are real. My dm does!!! We'll be finding out together!!

-sometimes she uh. Doesn't know basic information. Whenever something she should reasonably know gets brought up I get to roll a flat d20 to do a "memory check", the checks getting harder the older the memory is. When she fails, she gets to lie or change the topic etc because she would rather DIE than admit anything is wrong with her.

-the album cover is kind of an intentionally really poor introduction of her character. She's more silly than anything? The entire project was meticulously micromanaged by the company that made her. The "novelty" and aesthetic of having a construct as their lead took forefront in its advertisement. There were two other members of THREAT DISPLAY!!! But she has no memory of them because they were considered comparatively SO unimportant to advertising and to her that they have gone... forgotten.

-Helvia herself is. A real character alright!!! Based entirely in what a corporation thinks a "cool alternative girl" is, she's impulsive, selfish, and just. So fucking stupid. She's firmly a "might makes right" type of person who was designed to appear counterculture but still ultimately serve and be fine with the status quo as long as it benefits her. She's going to do anything that grants her immediate satisfaction, and is obsessed with maintaining her image as "cool and above it all", even as her body is actively breaking down. She easily falls for flattery.

Notes about the piece: yeah I downloaded and used splatoon fonts for the nonsense text. I think I typed gay sex like twice I'll be real none of it translates to relevant information. I think there's something in there about how I hope it came across as an adequate parody of machine girl album covers (my main inspiration). The composition of the piece itself is meant to feel kind of skeevy and exploitative because well. It is!! It's drawing the fine line between 'wow this is so cool and counterculture of us wow!!!' and fetishistic? Etc etc missing the chestpiece as an analog for putting a woman topless on the cover. There's actually a separate sketch I did as a canonical "mock up" for the design that originally included the other members, treating them like props because they're so unimportant, before they were scrapped from the final design because they were That Unimportant.

Notes on Helvia's design: I pulled from a few sources for this!! Notably I looked at so many pictures of that band Tramp Stamps. Remember Tramp Stamps? I don't. They're like the direct analog I think to her. I also pulled from vocaloid designs!! Impractical, cool, kind of "anime" feel. This comes across most in her hair I think which is just so beautifully impractical. The yellow gloves are so stupid important to me actually they're kind of ugly but it's the only way her name ended up being important: helvia cardinalis (mantis) is Bright Yellow and raises its 'arms' in its threat display, which I wanted to pull from for potential posing of her!! So. Bright stupid yellow gloves <3 they're an easy way to tell her character apart too & mean I don't have to worry about drawing all the nonsense on her arms. The translucent skirt also comes from the mantis, sort of pulled from its wings!! Original concepts for her included synthetic skin rotting away but her design was already more complicated than I normally go for and we ultimately ended up realizing her being openly and visibly a construct was important for her image in her music career so it worked out well! She is at least missing an eyeball :] doesn't affect vision since the mechanics are still in place but I guess she just gets that fun sans glow socket <3 her outfit is meant to look simultaneously cool, vaguely expensive, but also super super cheap?? Overall I'm happy with the fact that she looks both cool and really stupidly impractical in that classic 2000s deviantart oc way <3 it's important to me! Ultimately:

[ticklishthoughts1]

Accept your Beauty!

So I wrote this cute lil thing a WHILE back, and decided to post it on here because to this day it's still one of my favorites! (INeedthisinmylifeaseithertheleeorthelerplss)

Compliments are hard to accept sometimes. This is what you thought when You had squeaked out "Nooooo! I'm nooot!" As they Called you Beautiful. You were Absolutely not prepared for the feirce, yet loving look they give you. Slowly, they say "Stay. Right. Here. I'll be back.". The change is so sudden you're shocked into staying Like a Good Little Lee as they go out of the room, coming back with an ungodly amount of pillows and covers. Not able to help yourself, you smirk. What were they gonna do, start a pillow fight? Your question is Promptly answered as they shove you onto the bed playfully, grinning and saying "Stay Still Little One. I have an idea". Genuine Curiosity keeps you still as they begin placing pillows under and around you strategetically, Propping you up to as comfy a position as Possible, and covering everywhere but your face and tummy with the pillows. They then grab the covers, wrapping them around and under you, tucking them in tight. With a start, you realize their plan. Trying to wiggle, you find yourself entirely immoble under the pleasant, gentle weight of the comfort items, and the expert knots They tied using the lighter of the blankets. They Just Mummified You with Pillows and Blankies! They sit where your thighs would be, stretching out, and Whispering "You're Beautiful." You start to protest, but your response is broken up by giggles as they gently begin tickling your tummy. They Start to pepper your face with kisses, punctuating each one with Praise. The Forehead, neck, jawline, cheeks, nose, even the ears, they kiss you all over, tickling your tummy with more intensity every time you protest. kiss You're Stunning! kiss You're Amazing! kiss You're My Entire World! kiss I love you, so much! kiss You are worth it! kiss You are Important, and Special! kiss You are Perfect, AS. kiss YOU. kiss ARE! kisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskisskiss!!

This goes on for anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, you lose track of time to be honest. All you know is that You're Blushing at the shade of a Cherry Tomato, and Flustered Like Heck, when you finally cave: "OKAHAHAHAHAY! OKAY! I'M ADOHOHORAHAHBLEHEHEHE!!" They Immedeately slow the tickling down, winding to a stop instead of stopping abrubtly so that phantoms don't plague you, and gently, when they're certain you've caught your breath, they say "Say it Again Sweetheart!". You look away, grinning like a fool, and Squeak out "I-I'm Adorable...." You look back up and see the genuine affection on Their face as they kiss you one last time, on the forehead, and untie you, cuddling you under the mountain of soft now. You bury your head into their chest flusteredly, and they gently affirm One last time "You Are Positively Precious, Absolutely Amazing, and such a Cool person. I can with Confidence say that you have made my life 100% better by being In it. I love you, and REFUSE to let you regard yourself as anything but the Royalty You Are. I understand Accepting Compliments Isn't the easiest, but I'll make it my mission to keep reminding you of Who you are, until One day, you Can Look in the mirror and See what I see when I look at you, my Darling <3" You giggle happily, nuzzling into their chest some more as you feel your heart race, and your chest heat up. You Would let them win, for now~

[jsmelodies]

Here's part one of my contribution for day 3 of @cassianappreciationweek! I hope you enjoy reading it.

More chapters focusing on Nessian's growing family will be coming out over the course of Cassian week as well. Stay tuned!

Cassian was tired. 

He’d just spend almost two weeks in the Northernmost parts of Illyria, helping to distribute supplies and look after the training of the younger warriors. It hadn’t been a bad visit necessarily, but he hated sleeping in a bed that wasn’t his, and waking up at odd hours of the morning to oversee training. It was draining. Especially since the mating bond had been quieter than he was expecting.

His feet touched down on the balcony of the House of Wind and he made quick work of crossing its halls to get to his room.

At over five hundred, he was getting too old for this. The aching cold had settled into his bones, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Nesta, who was likely already asleep. 

She wasn’t asleep. Instead, she was propped up against the headboard, pillows supporting her back, reading what he imagined to be one of her novels. Except she wasn't reading, he realized upon closer inspection. Her eyes were on the page, but it looked like she was reading the same line over and over.

Nesta jolted upright when she noticed his attention on her. “You’re back. I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.”

He offered a tired smile. “I decided to fly through the night. I couldn’t wait to come back home to you.”

Nesta didn’t say anything. Instead, she merely shrunk in on herself, silence lingering for way longer than it should.

Confusion furrowing his brows, Cassian took a step closer. “Is everything alright, sweetheart? You seem-”

The lingering scent of iron registered in his brain before he could finish his sentence. 

“You’re bleeding?” he asked, wings flaring. 

“I was.” 

He knew he was overreacting. Being a typical territorial fae male. But he couldn’t help scanning her entirely, looking for any sign of hurt and evidence of who caused it. If someone had hurt her–

“I got my cycle when you were away.”

Everything in his body relaxed. That is, until he noticed the pained expression she still wore.

Nesta looked ready to collapse, like one poorly placed word might break her. 

Cassian was confused. Yes, he could admit when he was an ignorant male. If her cycle was already over, which by the scent of her it was, he couldn’t for the life of him understand why she was still upset. 

“You should have sent for me, Nes. I would’ve come back to be with you.” Nothing ever would have been able to keep him away, if he’d known. He had wondered why their bond felt a little more closed off than normal. Now it made sense, he supposed.

Her shoulders moved up in a shrug. “I didn’t want to bother you. You had more important things to worry about.”

Bullshit. That was complete and utter bullshit. The last time Nesta had gotten her cycle, he’d been in bed with her for days. She’d gripped his shoulders tight and made him keep his warm hand on her stomach the whole time, the contact seeming to be the only thing that brought her any semblance of relief. 

“No, I really didn’t,” he said. “You’re feeling ok now, though?” he asked. Apprehension laced his tone. Something was off, but he didn’t quite know what it was. 

“It ended yesterday.” She wasn’t looking at him again. “It’s been a while since my last one.”

His mind quickly did the math. “It was almost eight months ago.”

“Yeah.”

Why would that matter? Yes, they’d been trying for nearly a year, but surely she knew how long it might take?

Unless. Unless she didn’t.

“You thought you might have been…”

Once again, Nesta remained silent. Then, a few seconds later, her head dipped in a single nod.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He moved the final few steps to the bed and sat down next to his mate, reaching out his hands to pull her against him.

Her eyes widened, and she moved back an inch. “What are you doing?”

Cassian stopped instantly. “I was going to hold you.” His arms dropped a little. “But I should have asked first. I just thought…”

His words trailed off. Nesta was watching him with an expression he’d never quite seen before, a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

“I didn’t think you would want to,” she said.

His hands fell, running over the soft blankets of their bed. “And why would you think that?” he asked.

“Because I failed.” 

His heart sank in his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“I got my cycle. I…failed.”

“You did not fail,” he almost snarled, holding himself back for her sake. “Do you hear me? You didn’t.”

“But I did. I will. Madja said it might never happen. That because my cycles are as inconsistent as they are, I may never be able to bear a child.” 

He shook his head. “Madja said that might happen. That we might have problems with infertility. It wasn’t a guarantee,” he reminded her. “And plus, fae children take longer to conceive than human ones. Feyre and Rhys were the exception, not the rule.”

“And if it never happens?” she asked. When she looked at him again, her eyes were rimmed with tears. Fuck. “It’s a real possibility. I don’t want you to…regret choosing me.”

“I would never,” he swore.

“You say that now. You’d already be gone, if it was a human marriage,” she said. “Even still, you have an acceptable reason to leave me. No one would question it. All I ask is that if you do, please don’t drag it out. I don’t think I could take that.”

If that didn’t break his heart, Cassian didn’t know what would. 

“Nesta. I’m going to say this as many times as you need to hear it. I do not love you for your ability to give me children.” 

He squeezed her hand in his, and made sure he was looking into her eyes when he continued. “I love you because you’re my brave Valkyrie. Because you are fierce, and strong, and so incredibly kind, even when you try to hide it. And I am proud to call you mine.”

Nesta relaxed a little, and he kept talking. “I want nothing more than to have children with you. You have no idea,” he said. “But for now, maybe the two of us should take a step back.”

He saw the moment his stupidly-phrased words hit their mark, instantly knowing how she had interpreted them. “If that’s what you want,” she whispered. Something like betrayal flickered in her eyes for just a moment, before those bricks rose too quickly, blocking him out. Then she shifted in an attempt to get off the bed. Away from him.

“Fuck. No, Nes, that wasn’t what I meant,” he said, not letting her go too far, stopping her with a hand around her wrist. “I didn’t mean take a step back from you. I just meant, maybe for now, we should stop trying.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

He took a deep breath. “I hate seeing you like this,” he said. “I hate that you feel like you’ve failed me. That couldn’t be any further from the truth.”

“But I–” Nesta paused, and shook her head. “I don’t get it. I might never be able to have your children, Cassian. I know how much you want them.”

“I do, Nes,” he said. “But I know how much you want them, too. And I made you a vow. I promised you that we would always face these things together. Always. I don’t ever plan to break that promise.”

Her eyes closed in a long blink as she exhaled. Cassian wiped a tear away with his thumb, stopping it before it ran down her face.

“You promise?” she asked quietly.

“I promise,” he repeated.

This time, when he went to hold her in his arms, Nesta didn’t stop him. He hugged her tight, not daring to let go. He didn’t ever want to let go.

“How do you feel about talking to Evelyn again?” he asked, when he felt that she had calmed down.

Evelyn was a couples’ therapist with a practice down in Velaris. They initially enlisted her services after the ordeal with Bryce–he’d seen the distrust and sadness on her face and promptly decided he never wanted to be the cause of it again. Being with each other was something they both wanted to choose, every day.

It had been rough, and messy, and at times, painful. But they got through it. They learned a lot about each other.

He learned that his mate forgave easily, but words lingered longer in her mind than most. Pathetic. Useless. Unworthy. Those were the ones that popped up the most often. So he made a point to replace them whenever he could. Every night before they went to sleep, Cassian placed a kiss on her brow and told her that he loved her. That he valued her. And every night, she looked closer and closer to believing him.

She learned that his jokes and his smiles hid a lot. More than he would like to admit. And when he’d started revealing those insecurities, it was enough to make Nesta tear up in Evelyn’s office.

But this…he had a feeling that they would need to dig deeper for this. That this wasn’t the type of problem that could be fixed with one conversation.

“You think we need to?”

“I think that I want to know where those thoughts are coming from,” he countered. “I think I already know what it is, but I’m not an expert in these things. I just want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons.”

The room once again fell into silence while Nesta considered his words. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll book an appointment.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

He continued to hold her, his hand stroking gently down her back. The worst of it was over, he knew. For tonight, anyway. But a hollowness still echoed in the room.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t better news,” he said quietly.

She sighed. “I really thought this might have been it. Eight months is a long time, especially to someone like me.”

Someone who used to be human. Someone who used to have a one month cycle.

He understood perfectly. There were some aspects of fae life that he knew she still struggled to adapt to. Scents was one of them. She had trouble picking up on the subtleties of emotion that a person carried, and they usually tended to overwhelm her, especially if she was in a crowded room.

 ”I know it is.”

He broke them apart just enough so he could see her face. “How about this, sweetheart,” he said, once he had her settled against him again. “Let’s enjoy life with just the two of us for a little while longer, while we still can. I’ll take you dancing somewhere new every week–I know you like that. Let me spoil just you for now.”

“You’re saying I have to put up with your company?” Nesta asked the question with a newfound sparkle in her eyes, one that hadn’t been there when he got home.

He rolled his eyes, flicking her nose with her fingers. “Smartass.”

“You love it,” she said, resting her head on his chest.

“That I do,” he agreed. “Now, let me go change out of my leathers and I’ll join you in bed, alright?”

They reluctantly parted. Cassian made quick work of stripping himself of the leathers and changing into a sleep shirt, then he slid back into bed.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind being spoiled by you for a little bit longer,” she said when he returned, settling into his arms. “But I think I also want to negotiate two bakery visits a week.”

“Two, hmm?”

“You know I like my cake.”

“I do know that,” he conceded. “Fine. Dancing once a week, and a bakery trip three times a week. Final offer.”

Nesta snorted, and a grin broke out on her face. “We have a deal.”

He offered her a small smile of his own, and hers softened to a look of pure contentment.

Cassian leaned in. “Can I kiss my beautiful wife?”

She loved it when he called her that. His wife. A person that he had chosen for himself, not some Cauldron or other authority.

Her eyebrow raised. “Just kiss?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, pressing a light kiss in the space between her jaw and her earlobe, and said, “I want her to know just how much I love her.”

His wife was beautiful when she was flustered. When he pulled away, he found that she was exactly that: eyes blown wide and her lips slightly parted.

Her hands running through his hair was a feeling he would never tire of, and he groaned as she pulled him into a slow kiss. Bodies flush against each other, Cassian traced his fingers down the curve of her body, landing on her hip.

Before he could be tempted to do anything else, Cassian pulled away, noticing the red that had appeared on Nesta’s cheeks.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

He draped a wing over her body and pulled her against him so she was protected. Her head rested along his arm, using it as a pillow, and exhaustion seemed to finally win out in her head as her eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, the sound muffling against his chest. “I missed you.”

Cassian held her tighter. “I missed you too, love.”