#pf is down for the moment

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Their friendship is very dear to me.

Has been following the plot since qsmp's opening, and never regretted it. I'm Philza watcher, and I really like his and Fit's friendship. Still do be waiting on Philza coming back.

[martyrbat]

ok mental breakdown over how are all of u ..

[anarkhebringer]

"We will no longer let every criticism dictate our direction with the game" UNTIL it's the JP playerbase

[crashedsea]

Sorry but it really does upset me sometimes seeing childrens/teens emotions just being boiled down to being a kid.

Like. For a lot of people the struggles theyre going through and even just emotional ones will effect them for the rest of their lives.

And at the same time I get it like theres stuff that seemed so important to me as a teen and that I grew out of and gained perspective on but also like... There was so much i was stuggling with that was very real and practical concerns and it just like all got dismissed.

And it just upsets me so much. Because I'm still carrying all that with me and its like I would watch people say well you'll grow out of it you'll get over it and I fucking havent that shit was real and just because i was a teenager doesnt mean I didnt know what I was feeling. And it hurts so bad too because so much of it I just didnt have the vocabulary/exprience/perspective to fully understand or explain what I was feeling but it didnt stop me from hurting. And that also gets dismissed.

[amirasainz]

Could you write where baby!sainz is a performer like Beyoncé or Megan Thee Stallion and she just went on tour and one of her songs she gives out a lap dance and one of the younger drivers (Lance/Logan/Zhou/Oscar) is the one getting lap dance and everyone else is jealous

Or since Lando has filmed a couple of videos with the sidemen maybe one of the boys flirt with her or get her in a sidemen Sunday where they’re her butlers for a day/week or they’re doing a 20 vs 1 and the boys are apart of the 20 and they’re wives/gfs are fangirling

Hope those made sense

Sooo, I never saw Megan Thee Stallion's performance. However, I adjusted things, so.....Enjoy!!! Let me know if you have any whishes!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

She's dancing like a stripper

Oscar couldn't believe it. Bright lights blinded him, the screams of the thousands of fans making his ears ring. The metal chair he was sitting on was vibrating from the guitar bass. Everything was starting to become too much, when his vision was filled with an angel. She was starring at him, a playful smile on her lips. Instead of wearing her sparkly dress, she now wore a skimpy outfit. Her high-heels brought her closer to him, her hands landing softly on his shoulders.

"Sidney, are you ready for the final?" Amira asked, turning her upper body towards the screaming crowd. The yelled so loud, that Amira slightly winced from the volume. "Because this was such an requested song, I will now sing "Favourite". But as you all know, this song has a special dance as well. And who could help me better, than our home-boy Oscar?" The crowd went wilde. They all knew that "special dance" was just a sweeter term for lap dance.

When the music picked up, Oscar's hands started sweating. Amira slowly lowered herself on his lap, his veiny hands immediately landing on her tights. When she started rocking herself on his lap, a low groan left his lips. Amira's hands brought his head closer to her breast. Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Amira went of his lap.

She walked three steps away from him, some pf her backup dancers following her. She fell on her knees, spreading her legs. Two of her backup dancers, Sarah and Cheyenne, touched her body from behind. Sarah was busy touching her upper body, while Cheyenne ran her hands on the inside of her tights. Both of the girls brought their heads closer to the girl. Because their breaths tickled her, she had to laugh slightly.

When the refrain started, she crawled on her hands a bit, giving Oscar the perfect view of her ass. She lied on her upper body, ass in the air, when she turned on her back. Amira arched her back, spreading her legs once again. 'God, she's killing me here' was Oscars only thought. He gripped the armrest tightly when he saw Amira approaching again.

This time she sat down on his lap with her back turned towards his. She brought one of his hands very, very close to her privat parts, while she brought the other one on her neck. Her hand fisted his hair, brining him to her neck. Before he could stop himself, Oscar started kissing her neck. He slowly trailed his lips to her cheeks, moaning quietly in her ear. After a moment he realised that her hip movement spelled the word "coconut". God, this girl was truly something else.

When the song neared his end, Amira turned her face to Oscar, Their lips where close to touching. Before something more could happen, the roar of the crowd interrupted their little moment. Amira got up and smiled at all of the fans. She turned to Oscar, hugging him and whispering her thanks. With a Ferrari red face, Oscar left the stage. He really needed a cold shower now.

Bonus (+)

"No, this is unfair. This is so fucking unfair" muttered Logan, his eyes fixed on the couple on stage. Lando was standing next to him, his mouth agape. How the fuck did his teammate get so lucky? Shouldn't he, as the older one of the two, be the one to receive the lap dance? Charles, George, Alex and Pierre were busy filming the whole thing for their girlfriends, while also enjoying the show. Yuki as well enjoyed the show, while snacking on some crisps. All of them were so intrudged that they let out some noise of complaint when the show ended. After a moment, George stated: "Thank fuck that Carlos is sick today", receiving nods from the others.

[lillaluna]

you like to hold hands, doesn't he?

Pairing: Neuvillette, Itto, Diluc, Childe, Dottore, Zhongli, Wriothesley x f!Reader

DOTTORE

Oh, you just had to see his face when you took his hand in public for the first time, without asking or permission! At that moment, the man immediately pulled his palm out of your light grip, which you were not offended at all, because you knew who you were in a relationship with and it would not be easy with him.

Then you decided to act differently, starting with light touches to Dottore's gloved fingers when you were walking among people. After that, you casually covered his hand with yours when you were sitting in a cafe. And your main triumph was the moment when Dottore himself intertwined your fingers, feeling a pang of jealousy.

It's not like Dottore loved this gesture with all his dark heart right now, but he's willing to do it for you occasionally.

DILUC

Does Diluc need to be persuaded to take your hand? Of course not! It's safe to say that he was the first one to make this gesture in your relationship, and he loves it.

He holds your hand everywhere — at home, just to feel your warmth, on the street, to know that you are close and safe, when you go to bed, you must have tactile contact.

Your interlaced fingers cause Diluс to have a rush of tenderness and a smile on his sometimes sullen face.

WRIOTHESLEY

For the first time, Wriothesley realized that he wanted to touch you as often as possible when you bandaged his knocked-down knuckles for the umpteenth time, after a fight in the ring. You have always acted very gently, soft and delicately, despite the duke's assurances that his hands have long been roughened and you do not need to stand on ceremony with him. To which you always snorted funny and continued to treat his wounds.

For a long time, Wriothesley did not dare to take your hand, precisely because he believed that his hands were too rude, rough and calloused, and he could harm your soft female fingers. Therefore, you had to become the initiator of the fact that your fingers would finally intertwine, that evening when you were sitting next to each other at the table, at one of the receptions in the palace of Mermonia.

ITTO

For all his feigned self-confidence, It was very shy to touch you, and the thought of taking your hand in public drove him to hysteria inside his head. Therefore, Itto came up with, as it seemed to him, an insidious and cunning plan, suggesting that you compare the sizes of your palms.

If the first time it seemed like a nice gesture to you, even the second time you laughed shyly, then after the thirteenth comparison, you began to suspect something was wrong.

On another offer to compare your palms, you refused Itto, and rejoiced for the first few minutes from his confused face, but after a few minutes you felt sorry for the confused guy. That's why you gently said that he doesn't need clever plans for him to take your hand, and you'll be glad of it at any moment.

ZHONGLI

After so many years of loneliness, this man will not miss any opportunity to touch you. He will proudly hold your hand, interlacing your fingers at the moment when you want it. At home, in a restaurant, walking down the street, visiting.

Zhongli has a habit, as soon as your fingers are intertwined, he immediately brings your clasped palms to his lips and kisses your fingers. It surprised you the first time, but now it has become something integral, and Zhongli has never forgotten to make this cute gesture.

CHILDE

What? Just hold hands? Pf, it's too easy for Ajax. Maybe hugs are everywhere possible and the bounds of decency allow it?

Childe does not need to ask for a small gesture there, he himself will take your hand and do it defiantly, literally poking your interlaced fingers in everyone's face, which in his opinion declares that you are only his.

NEUVILLETTE

Judge Fontaine learns everything new and modern, but he considers the gesture when two people hold hands intimate and prefers to do it with you alone. At first, you were offended, although you tried to hide it behind a knowing smile, but when you saw how tremulously and tenderly Neuvillette kissed your fingers when they were intertwined with his, you decided that such intimacy was not a bad thing.

In turn, Neuvillette tries as often as possible to give you fleeting touches in public, and if possible, he is happy to offer that you take his arm.

[sexydoffyman]

Could I maybe get an NSFW alphabet plz with male reader? Thanks!

NSFW ALPHABET - KÖNIG

navigation

genre: smut

characters: König

A/n: a friend pf mine pronounces his name like qwajnk.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh boy. He doesn't really seem like it but he really fucking likes cuddles. He definitely uses his height to his advantage. (You're getting grounded, literary) He is a little self-conscious after sex. He knows he's big. He also knows he could hurt you pretty badly. Thoughts of you hating him or losing interest fill his head. He just has to grab you and make sure you stay there with him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms. You can grab on them, and it makes them seem even bigger than they already are. He likes putting you in a chokehold.

What he favours the most in you are your legs. Thighs specifically. He doesn't really have a reason for it. He just likes them. Let the man get some thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Average texture, not super thick, but also not watery. Hex - f3f5e6 Big man big load. Usually pulls out and catches it in his hand. (He doesn't want to add work by having to clean anything up) He also doesn't really want you to swallow it. He is mature he doesn't need a porn actor who will do anything to satisfy a dude. He'd rather have real sex.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn't fit in a fleshlight. He's pretty embarrassed about the whole thing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's over 40. Definitely has a pretty big body count. About 27 I'd say. (counting one-night stands) He finally found someone on whom he can use his knowledge on.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Spooning or the seashell.

When he spoons you he can put you in a chokehold, making you fight back a little. On the other hand, when he bends your legs you won't be able to fucking move.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but not a nerd kinda serious. He just doesn't speak much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps a solid bush on there. (He does make sure to clean it properly) It is not messy. He's got a little thicker happy trail. And he's a pretty brunet down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be pretty brutal both with his actions and with his words. Or he can be soft with both. It depends on both of your moods.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This testosterone-filled man definitely jerks off. Even when you are around (Doesn't try to hide it)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Being in control. I mean, can you blame him. He has the perfect body and occupation for it. Speaking of body.

Size difference. Again it just feels right.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He could fuck anywhere. Even tho he likes it the most from the safety of your bedroom he wouldn't mind a public bathroom or a friend's bedroom. He likes to be sneaky. Has never been caught once.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything.

Do anything he's hard instantly. That's why he jerks off so much.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want it he wants it. Except threesomes. He wants you for himself. Who could blame him when he has such a pretty thing only for him. Why would he share

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving. He isn't bad at giving but he can use his hands and dick way better than his mought.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough all the way. He loves to be in control and he's got all this raw strength and energy. Why not use it?

He also likes the slow and sensual. Both of you need a break sometimes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He'd go for them more often, but he doesn't really want to bother you. Another reason for him jerking off a lot.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s always pulling you to the side, finding a place to make you take him. He is obsessed of holding the door to make sure no one gets in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This dude. Bruv can go as long as you can go. He will take you to the stars and back and it’ll take him only a minute to catch his breath.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not a fan of them. He’d rather have you on his dick not some plastic. He doesn’t find much pleasure in them either.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Based on his mood.

He could play with you as he holds you down.

Or he could be quick about it.

He for sure doesn’t mind teasing you. Touching your thigh is his favourite way to do so.

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is dead silent. Sometimes it freaks you out. But if he finds out you enjoy the sounds he makes he will definitely try to add more of ‘em

Slight sighing when he lays his body on yours, little grunts and the occasional “fuck”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s into stalking. It doesn’t matter of it’s you stalking him or the other way around. He loves the thrill.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 inches abnormaly thick. #e0ae82 base #ba7f68 tip. Slightly curved to the left.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Boy can go anywhere anytime. Public bathroom, bed, a random fucking room. He’s always thinking of it. Hard 24/7

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to talk a bit afterwards but he will fall asleep like a baby right after he’s done.

[gamesetart]

me when dilf!art breeding kink but im feeling horribly masc so the actual idea of pregnancy grosses me out - anyways i support transmasc breeding kinks guys

nsfw below the cut - reader is afab, one use of 'good boy' but other than that its very neutral. afab terms for reader's parts.

tags: breeding kink (sort of? they're not actually trying to get pregnant), cheating (sort of, tashi allows it. orchestrated it, actually), mentions of the arttashi marriage, overstimulation, the mildest of crying. technically an age gap (art in his early 30s, reader in 20s) but it never comes up.

his hips slot against yours like he was made to be there, made to press your knees to your chest, to fold you in half, to settle between your thighs and jackrabbit in and out of your cunt like he owns it, like there isn't even a person attached to the rest of it.

it's not the first time you've found yourself like this, praising his athleticism whilst cursing his absolutely unfair stamina. you've cum around him twice already - on his tongue, because art donaldson wouldn't dare try to fuck you stupid without coating his face in your spend, first, then on his fingers, a futile attempt to open you up for his cock. but nothing feels like enough prep for art, especially not when you're whining for him, telling him you want it to hurt, you don't care, you need him now.

"fuck," art groans, breath hot against the crook of your neck. "fuck, you're so fuckin' tight f'me, jesus, baby."

"don't bring him into this," you manage, nipping at his ear.

he huffs a laugh. even when he's like this, fucking you like a man posessed, snapping his hips into yours like he'll die outside of the sweet clench of your pussy, he manages to find lightness. you both do. it keeps things sweet, keeps them from slipping too far into uncharted territory. you have tashi's permission to let him ruin you as he pleases - tashi duncan knows all, and she's sanctioned your existence as the perfect outlet for all pf art's pent-up fantasies - but art doesn't want to be rough with you. not yet. he likes that he can hold you and feel strong, protective. likes that he can bend you in two and still kiss your temple. art likes that you can be sweet, soft, lovely.

"shhh, you can take it, baby," art soothes, and it's far too kind with the way he's fucking you. "doin' so well for me."

"art-" it's a warning as much as it is a plea.

he just nods, strokes your hair from your face, gentle as sin, and presses his forehead to yours.

"go on, babe, cum on my cock, c'mon, that's it, that's it-" and he feels it, the moment your walls clench around him, the fluttering of your cunt as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips. "oh, god, there you go."

he doesn't stop, though, barely even slows as he wipes a tear from your cheek and continues to slam his cock right into your overstimulated cunt. no amount of whining, of red scratches raked down his back, could have stopped him. you have a word, a signal. if you really couldn't take it, he'd know.

but you're his good boy, you'll take it, you always will. you might be the only one who can. you're the only one he wants, certainly. the only person he can fuck into like this.

"'s too much," you sob weakly, clawing at him with shaking hands. "art, please, can't-"

art just shushes you with a soft, quick kiss. "got one more f'me, don't ya? i know you do, know you can, baby, c'mon."

the tears fall freely, the press of his cock inside you so ridiculously filling you wonder if you'll split in half, if you'll simply die from the overstimulation. and then you think that'll be such an excellent way to go out, crying under him, safe between his strong arms.

art's right hand slips from where it rests on the back of your knee, holding you spread open. he hooks your leg over his shoulder, using the now-free hand to rub torturous circles on your clit. it burns, it's good, too good, white-hot sparks of pain crossing their wires with pleasure as you all but scream, sounds torn from your lungs in ways you didn't know you could make.

"c'mon, babe, wanna feel you cum around my cock before i pull out-"

your eyes go wide and you shake your head. no, not this time, wait, but the words don't come out.

"what, what's wrong?" art slows, pulling his hand from you. his blue eyes are doe-like with concern, eyebrows knit in the middle, lips settled into a familiar worried pout as he stares down at you.

you get a second to catch your breath. "in me," you gasp hoarsely. "inside. art. want you to cum in me. fill me up, please."

it's like something snaps.

there's a look on his face you can only liken to how he looks on the court: wild, fierce, a calculated cruelty he uses to systematically destroy whoever's on the other side of the net. and right now, a version of that look is fixed on you, a hungry glint in his eyes, pupils blown so wide you'd think his iries had vanished.

"fuck," he groans. "you want me to breed you, that it? fill up this pretty little pussy?"

and you moan, because neither of you are trying for a baby, not in the slightest, but the idea of being owned so thoroughly by art donaldson is enough to make you clench around him, fresh heat coiling in your core, and you could probably give him a hundred more orgasms, as long as he keeps talking to you like that.

"yeah, yeah, fuck me, art, 'til it takes, please," you babble, and maybe one day you'll start meaning it.

his pace begins anew, and this time, there's barely any rhythm to it. he's seeking release for himself now, too, for the first time since this has started, pulling out almost entirely before snapping back in so hard, you're sure you can feel it in your throat. deft fingers make rough circles on your clit, quick and dirty.

it pulls another orgasm from you faster than you'd like to admit. you don't even have time to warn him, but he can feel it in the way you tighten, your legs shaking, can hear it in the sharp note of your voice when you call his name.

"that's it, there you go," art groans. "gonna fill you right up, baby. 's what you want, right?"

you nod, so far past words, so far past anything more than lying there and taking it. but that's all he needs from you. his pace stutters.

"fuck, yes, you're so perfect, so good to me, you feel so good-" he's babbling now, grinding into you with all the grace and decorum of a fucking animal. "made for me, made for this cock, god, yes-"

and with a high keen of your name he's cumming, driving his hips into you, pushing his cock in as far as your cunt will allow, so far you're almost worried his sheer willpower is enough to override the birth control pill you're on. he stays there for a while, holds it in like he really is going to force it to take. and when he pulls out, his fingers push it back it sloppily.

art presses a soft kiss to your temple and all but collapses next to you with a sigh. when he catches his breath, you know he'll vanish to the bathroom, return with damp cloths and the bath running. he'll massage all your sore joints and rub oils into your skin and kiss every inch of you. but right now, he just needs to feel you. to lie next to you and try to memorise the pattern of your breathing.

"that was... something," you mumble, a soft smile playing at your tired lips.

"good something?" art asks.

"great."

"oh, thank god, because i really enjoyed that."

"so did i."

he kisses you again, on the lips. it's slow, sweet, drawn-out, as he weaves a hand into your hair and trails it down to draw circles on your shoulder. both of you know a child isn't in the cards right now, but your purpose here is to let art play pretend. you don't even actually want kids, it's just hot to think about making art a daddy again. tashi is the mother of his daughter, will be the mother of any of his future children. you, you're the outlet she hand-picked for all of art's needs, because while she can do everything, she won't let him fuck her the way he wants to fuck someone, and art doesn't want to fuck tashi the way he fucks you. you're okay with that. you like being someone he needs. someone he wants.

and who knows? maybe tashi will change her mind. maybe you will. maybe she'll let you have his next kid, and maybe you'll want it.

god knows art wants it. he'd let you. he'd give you anything. everything.

"thank you," he mumbles against your hair. "that was... i love you."

"i should be thanking you, i haven't cum thag much in one night in... ever."

you pause, tip your head up to meet his eyes. he's smiling, soft as silk, sweet as sugar. in the dying light of the sun, his hair looks like it's on fire, haloed by the sky itself. apollo incarnate come down from the heavens.

"i love you too," you say. and mean it.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your girlfriend’s request goes against your wishes.

prompts. | Natasha Romanoff + Camgirl + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + Scissoring, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!camgirl!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, smut, scissoring, mommy kink, female orgasms, dirty talk, degradation, praise, begging, pet names, nat is camgirl, filming, non-consensual uploading of said video, breast play, squirting, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

You stand shyly in front of her, stark naked, with nothing to shield you from Natasha’s burning gaze. She stares at you, halting her movements as she sets the bed up. 

“C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there,” she demands. You do as she says, knowing the consequences would be dire if you don’t. “Good girl,” Natasha praises, placing her hands on your waist. She gazes up at you with a smirk, thumbs caressing your skin.

“N– No one’s gonna see, right?” you ask again, still unsure of her idea. She’s proposed that she film an intimate moment between you two, claiming it's for her eyes only. 

But you know that Natasha is one of the top streamers on the site she frequents, and her subscribers are constantly yearning for more content. You’ve never made an appearance on her page, preferring to keep your loving moments with your girlfriend private. 

“Of course, baby. I would never lie to you, would I?” she questions, pulling you onto her lap. Natasha expertly manipulates your body into laying down on the bed. She spreads your legs open and admires your glistening, achy flesh. “Look at that pretty pussy,” she marvels.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and pulls her pants down before fully undressing. You admire your girlfriends body—it’s no wonder she has that many fans. Natasha smirks when she notices you staring at her. She hits the record button on the phone and straddles you, her pussy touching yours. You moan at the contact and fall back, letting yourself succumb to her dominance. 

Natasha begins to gyrate her hips, filming every single movement. Her clit rubs against yours and you moan loudly, back arching already. “Feel good, baby? You like it when I rub my pussy on yours?” she groans, the amount of slick leaking out pf both you and her allowing her to move with ease.

Your girlfriend’s other hand plays with your tits, palming and squeezing them. You whimper at the sensations, the pressure on your clit delicious.

“Uh-huh—love it so much, Mommy,” you mewl, and she chuckles proudly. Natasha thrusts her hips as your clits rub against each other, both of you filling the room with yours lewd sounds. She picks the pace up and slows down sometimes, teasing the both of you. It’s as if she’s putting a show on.

“You’re such a good little slut, baby. You like getting filmed, huh? Mommy’s little movie star,” she coos, giving your breasts a few light slaps. She focuses the camera on them to show how your tits shake from the movement, before moving it back to your cunt. “Oh– yes,” you whimper, bucking your hips.

“You gonna come, honey?” Natasha asks, feeling her own climax beginning to build. You nod your head rapidly as your moans get louder. She zooms the camera in to capture the way her pussy grinds on yours. “You know the rules—you gotta ask nicely,” she reminds you.

Your toes curl as you feel the elastic band inside of you tightening at a fast pace. “Please, please, please! Please let me come, Mommy!” you wail, squeezing your eyes shut when you near the precipice. “Go ahead—make a mess on Mommy’s pussy like a good whore.”

You do as she says when you reach your orgasm, gyrating your hips as much as you can to reach that peak quicker. Your hole clenches around nothing as you clit throbs, Natasha fucking you through your climax as she approaches hers.

She cries out, just like you do, and her head tilts back. Her mouth drops open and she continues to grind on you, using you for her pleasure, You can feel spurts of her wetness hitting your skin, and you moan when you realize she has squirted on you. 

The camera, however, maintains a steady view of where you’re both connected. Natasha lifts her hips up a bit and uses her other hand to rub at her clit, making a show of it until she has nothing left to offer. 

You pant as you come down from the crescendo Natasha has graced you with, and you watch as she does the same. She stops the recording and smiles at you, reaching down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Thank you, baby. My viewers are gonna love this one—and you, of course.”

[toulousewayne]

Wake Up : A Bat Family One-Shot

———

Beep….Beep….Beep.

That’s the only sound in the room. That and the sounds of the tubes contracting. The room is full of your brothers and father. Alfred had stepped out to speak with the doctors.

Bruce sat in a chair to your right with Damian on the opposite side of your hospital bed. Tim sat like a cat perched in the window seal. Gotham City in her rainy and gloomy glory was just beyond the glass. Though it seem a lot more dim then normal. Jason had snapped and left an hour ago. Dick was in the corner pf the dim room not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce managed to choke the words out. They were the first words he said to you since you fight hours ago.

You were Bruce’s Daughter, and you too didn’t always see eye to eye. But he loved you in his own way only Bruce could understand. He gently pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face.

Beep…Beep…Beep.

That was the only reply he gotten. He replayed early tonight over and over like it had his parents deaths for many years.

——

“Are you fucking serious!” You hissed at him. You glared daggers at your father.

“Y/n”

“No, you told me the reason you and canceled on me was because of some life saving event,” That was true, Bruce had canceled on her for the millionth time this week alone.

“I didn’t lie to you,” he spoke monotonously. “Clark asked me to accompany Jon and Damian on a mission.” He took a sip from his wine.

“Oh, I forgot your Boy’s clubhouse.” She spat.

—-

Bruce gently brushed your black and red knuckles. He let out a deep wounded sigh. Dick glanced over and narrowed his gaze. “This is all your fault.”

Bruce didn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t make time for her I know that, I don’t your in put here Dick.” He said his name so cold it was almost as if that was he was calling him rather than calling his name.

Tim scoffed,”You both are to blame.” Dick shot his gaze to the college student nearly giving himself second degree whiplash.

“And what do you mean by that,Timmy?” The older man gaze never leaving the younger one.

“We all know Bruce blows everyone off unless it’s about the mission. You just do it because you don’t care about anyone but your Team or your girlfriend.”

Dick stares down at his brother and crosses the room some he’s with earshot of him.

“Tim that’s bullshit and you know it,” he tries to keep his anger in but it’s simmering and he could pop at any giving moment, “I do my best to be there,and yes I can be everywhere at once but I do try. At least I try to be.”

The room felt silent again with everyone’s on the comatose girl. The fight between them feeling as though it dismissed itself within seconds. Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and turns on his heels.

“I’m gonna go to the cafeteria, I’ll be back.” No one stops him. The door shuts softly and the only sound is the machines and the rain on the window.

A knock on the door brings everyone back to earth. It’s Alfred. “The Commissioner is here, he needs a moment with you Master Bruce.”

Bruce excuses himself and leaves the room.

——

Jason takes a long puff and the smokes leaves his lips. He looks toward the city through a rainy night. The red light the hospital cases a highlight on his face.

He blew up on Bruce twice tonight, not that he didn’t feel that it wasn’t necessary he did. But it didn’t change the pit in his stomach, nor the smells of gasoline, burning rubber, and metal.

He remembers everything.

——

“You avoiding me too?” He turns to the doorway of the library. You walk into the light of the fireplace.

“No but I don’t have any interest in spending the night in my old room.” He fired back turning the page of his book and placing a bookmark in it before standing up.

She shakes her head at her big brother. “Forgot, if I’m not apart of the missions you guys forget about us on the surface.”

He clicks his tongue and huffs,”Not like that.”

She shakes her head and grabes his plate and mug. “Sure it’s not, we used to hang out but now that I do go out anymore it’s like I’m a ghost to him. You too.”

Jason doesn’t meet her gaze right away. “I’m not talking to Daddy Bats right now. I only came because Golden Boy wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone. I just got back from Columbia this afternoon. I’m just tired is all. I’m free in a day or two.” He rubbed his face and turned back to her.

“Forget it Jason, rain check.” She mumbled and walked out the room.

——

Jason puts out the smoke and stomps on it before pushing his shoulders away from the hospital and heads back inside.

——-

Dick sat at table in the corner in the cafeteria. He took a sip of his coffee which tasted like old dirt water. Then again it was 1 am.

He throws his head back rubbing his temples trying to massage away his stress to no avail.

He gets to his feet and leaves and heads down the hallway. The rush of the hospital in full swing. Doctors getting paged, the sounds of nurses making rounds, phone lines ringing,etc.

He took a sit in the main lobby. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking about the last time he spoke to his sister. It was growing on three weeks.

——

“So??”

Dick woke up from dosing off. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.”Sorry it’s been a long 24 hours.” He sighed and scratched Haley’s head.

“I can tell, you’re not sounding like yourself.” He picked up the phone and walked into the kitchen opening the fridge. It’s only contents being a Chinese takeout container, a pizza box that he got earlier, two cans of diet soda, half a case of beer and three water bottles.

He takes a water and downs it. “Tell me about it and with this mission around the corner I need to get some rest but I doubt it.”

“What mission?”

Dick stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t told anyone but Barbara and Bruce that he was leaving for San Francisco in the morning to meet with the Titans.

“I heading back to the Titans, we have to head to investigate a lead.” He almost whispered the last part.

The line was silent for a moment. “And how long will you be gone Dick?” He couldn’t make out her tone but he could tell she wanted a different answer that what he was going to tell her.

“A month maybe less maybe more I don’t know until I get back.”

“So you’re not coming to graduation then.” She said a little more with intensity.

He sighs,”Look I’m sorry I know I haven’t been around—

“That’s an understatement.” She cuts him off.

He rubs his face,”I’m come to the next event I promise.”

She scoffed,”And what’s that Dickie Bird? You missed Ballet recitals, High School graduation and now college. You missed everything? You and Bruce are not that far apart.”

“That’s not fair, it’s important what I’m doing.”

“You don’t miss Damian art exhibition? It’s or Donna’s new studio opening. You were there for Bruce for a charity dinner two months ago yet you couldn’t bother to call me or even come ten feet to me at the same dinner to tell me you weren’t even staying till the next morning to go out like you had planned for months! You don’t miss anything for anyone else because they’ll be disappointed,but it’s fine to flake on your sister and I’m so supposed to be okay with that!”

“I’m so sorry it’s really not like that, look I’ll make it up—“

“Don’t bother Grayson, for once in all these years I thought for once you were gonna show up for me. I was wrong.” He could hear the hurt in her voice. Before he could say anything else she hung up.

That was Three Weeks ago and they hadn’t spoken.

——-

Tim hadn’t moved from his spot in the window. He turned back towards the room. Damian was sleep in his chair. He turned his attention to his older sister.

He thinks about the last few hours tonight. How things got so ugly so fast.

—

“Y/n, you’re being ridiculous. It’s a mission in East Asia not strike.” Bruce replied.

She glared at her father. The room was silent. “Do you take me for one of blind followers.”

“Excuse me?”

She leaned down so she was eye level. “I’m not one of your soldiers, and that’s part of the problem isn’t it Father?”

He returns her gaze. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, I may not always be there for you but I’m trying.”

She laughes at him, “When was the last time you were there for me that wasn’t lurking in the shadows, or stopping one of the criminals you created from nearly killing me and thousands of other people.” He gaze never leaving her and his jaw when slack too.

“You sit there and smile for the news and the rest of the world like we’re one Big Happy Family but we have never been.”

Tim pushes his food with his fork. And sighs. She turns to him, “Anything you want to say Tim, we may as well get everything off our chest.”

He huffs,”No but this isn’t going to change anything. “

She grins,”I agree with Tim.” Jason and Dick stare a look and Damian as long stopped eating and is watching the spectacle.

“You do?” Bruce raises a brow at her. She nods again. “Tim’s right, you’re never going to change until you take your last dying breath. Because God Forbid your kids dying own your watch doesn’t register to you that you need to be present more.”

The air in the room was still.

Bruce doesn’t look at her. Jason doesn’t look away but his plate. Damian squirms in his seat and Dick clears his throat.

“I tried to be there.” Bruce finally speaks.

“But you weren’t, and no one is blaming you for that.” Alfred cuts in hopefully to stop the mess from going any farther.

She huffs,”No but I least that would change your perspective of only throwing yourself into harms way every damn night. All of you, it’s like you all don’t even stop to think about yourselves.”

“Sister we are all trained, even yourself.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not saying you’re not capable,” she tone softens,” I’m saying that most of the time you remember that and that’s all that matters. You don’t think what happens if you miss step, you underestimate the villains next move, or what the consequences are for you charging into a mission without a second thought.”

Bruce leans forward,”I know what the stakes are. You don’t think I don’t know what happens if I don’t stop and think about that. You don’t know anything about what I do at night, the were a child and didn’t want this life for yourself.” He stood up and looked at her in the eyes.

“I never wanted you to be apart of that life, I know you couldn’t handle it.”

The boys turn to look at their sister and Bruce.

“So you thought that little of me?” Tears formed in her eyes but anger was the clearest emotion across her face.

“I thought you didn’t need to do what we do, you’re better at what you do now.” Though Bruce thought he was being sincere his tone was more condescending and cold.

“Bruce!” Dick shouts.

“Screw you, you just wanted be to be apart of your image.”

It dawned on him how he hadn’t been able to properly communicate to her.

“Y/n that—

She took off from the table, she grabbed her purse and keys.

“Don’t worry Father, I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.” She slammed the door and charged to her car. Not once slowing down even with Tim calling her phone multiple times and Damian yelling from the doorway.

She sped off through the gates and onto the road.

——

Y/n takes a sharp turn onto the main road and wipes her face with her sleeve. She sob to herself feeling so many things at once.

The sky opened and rain harmed down onto the road. “Great.” She turned on her wipers and lights and continued driving back towards the city to go to her apartment.

She ignored her phone that wouldn’t stop buzzing from calls from her brothers.

She felt like not just Bruce but they also thought so little of her. Maybe that’s why they didn’t want to spend time with her.

She graduated from Gotham University last night with a Bachelor Degree and yet it felt like she was alone. Alfred and the girls came. Bruce had missed the entire ceremony along with Damian. Tim was just landing from attending a business meeting in New York,Jason and Dick already had prior encounters.

She felt like she didn’t really feel like she belong with them. She snapped out of her daze and grabbed her phone inside of purse. She answered.

“Tim please you guys have got to stop—

A loud hoar range out and within seconds she looked to see a large truck. She attempted to move out of his way but it all happened to fast. She took a sharp right turn but the truck smashed head on the passenger side door causing everything to feel like a free fall. Her phone, contents of her purse falling all around her. She herself was jerked all over.

The car was immediately crushed by impacted and began to roll and tumble down the hill until it crashed into several trees.

Tim heard the crash and ran downstairs to where is his brother and Father were sitting in the study. By the tears on his face Bruce stood up and was in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

“She was hit…the truck…I-i can’t hear her.”

—-

Bruce was racing down the road. Tim was still on the phone but all he could hear was beeping from the car and something tapping.

He stopped with red and blue light came into his view.

The two got out the car but two officers tried to block their paths.

“That’s my daughter let me through.” He order but the officers tried to keep him through but he managed to push the two men and run towards the site. Detective Montoya was at the scene.

“Please, how is she?” Bruce asked. Her expression was anything but hopeful.

“I don’t know Mr. Wayne I just got here, the Fire Department got her first and are working to get her free. As if on time two paramedics rushed down the side with an Orange board with straps. Moments later the returned with three firefighters carrying Y/n. Cuts, bruised and marks littered her body. Her eyes were black and blue and a tube was down her throat with a brack around her neck.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Bruce asked uneasily.

“We’re taking her to Gotham General, she stable but we have to go.” The younger paramedic told him. He turned to Tim who hopped in the ambulance with his sister and Bruce backed away slowly as the ambulance rushed down the street with sirens and light flashing.

He made it inside his car followed them.

—-

The first few hours were a blurry, she was rushed into surgery. Tim sat in the emergency room waiting area until Alfred arrived with the rest of the boys and they were taken upstairs to her room where Bruce was already waiting.

45 minutes later a nurse came in to tell them she was out of surgery. Shortly, afterwards the surgery told them the damages she suffered and she would be in a medical coma for a few days to help with the pain and swelling

And that brings us to the present.

Bruce re-entered the room and took his seat back.

“She’s gonna be okay,right B?”

He nodded. “We hope so. She’s a fighter like us.” He took her cold hand and offered a gentle squeeze. Dick,Jason and Alfred returned as well.

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder,”She is, and now we have to wait for her to fight her way back to us.”

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - The oldest game

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. It probably wasn't too often the game got played, which made it all the more exciting you supposed.

Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another. You remained sitting on the floor wrapped up in Dream's warm coat. It was all that was protecting you from the eyes of others. You kept your eyes on Morpheus.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master pf the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

Morpheus kneels down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Yes. You don't need to worry about me." You tell him.

"I always worry about you." He admits. "I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't need to worry, really. You should have accepted the trade... you'd have had your helmet back by now."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are not a bargaining chip. You are my raven, my companion, my friend." His voice turns so soft as he speaks. You wished you could read the expression in his eyes.

"If anything happens to me, flee. Return to the Dreaming. If you stay there, Lucifer can not have you."

"No. I will not leave you." You sound determined. His lips twitch into a little smile.

"Always so loyal."

"You know it, Dream King. Now, kick some Devil ass and win. The sooner you do, the sooner we can go."

Morpheus smiles softly at you. He lifts his hand slowly, about to reach out and caress your cheek, but Lucifer's voice breaks the moment and he lowers his hand.

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again softly.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

Morpheus stands, and you sit up. You have your hands through the sleeves now, so you don't have to keep holding the coat together. You fasten a few buttons to hide your body.

Morpheus likes how you look in his coat, but he doesn't have time to admire your human form now.

He needs to secure your safety first.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You sit with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. You bite the inside of your cheek, a new and unfamiliar sensation to you. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You gasp and slide across the floor, placing a hand on his back. He looks up.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look up at him in awe.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You kneel beside him, hands placed on him gently. He tries to get up, but falls back down again.

"I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow, and it worries you.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You shield his body with your own and take his face in your hands gently.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me." You look at him so gently. Your touch is soft against his cold face. He can feel your thumb brush along his cheekbone.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream, who looks up at you. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You whisper to him.

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes. He sees the look in your eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams don't die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave me here alone with Lucifer. He would never leave me. Not when we just found each other again..."

He sees the way you look at him. That look sets something alight in him. He wants you to keep looking at him like that.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process. He returns to you. You stand on wobbly legs, still wrapped up in his coat.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away, grabbing your hand as he goes. You walk with him out of the castle, not daring to look back.

You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Far from the castle, you stand with Morpheus. He was still in his battle gear. You still had his coat wrapped around you. He looked at you and then at his helm.

He puts his helmet on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. You had obviously seen him wear it before, but it had been do long ago.

"I can. I can see the ruby."

You stand a little closer. Morpheus reaches out for you gently.

"Come here." He speaks softly.

You reach for his hand, but find yourself swept off your feet. Literally. Morpheus picks you up in his arm and holds you close to his chest. You look up at the helmet on his head.

"The sand, it's in my pocket. Get it for me."

You reach into the coat pocket and take the pouch out. He says nothing, but you understand what he wants. Carefully, you tip the pouch out into your other palm. Morpheus uses the sand to transport you out of Hell.

All the while keeping you in his arms.

You arrive at a storage house. Morpheus keeps you in his arms.

"Remove my helm."

You reach up and take his helmet off him, holding onto it carefully. He carries you to the door, refusing to put you down just yet. He takes you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He puts you down on a closed box nearby and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!" You hop off the box and hurry to his side. "Dream?" You scoop him up in your arms. He's unconscious. "Wake up. Please wake up..."

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him.

You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. In your current form, you can't fly back to the Dreaming, and you wouldn't dare use his sand without permission.

"Please get up." You whisper, holding head close to your chest. "Wake up, Morpheus..." You feel tears in your eyes.

"Please."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess -

[sunny-milla]

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

child! shigaraki tomura x mom! reader

In an alternate universe, a kindergarten teacher meets a feeble boy looking for a home and held out a helping hand before the heroes could do so. This is a two part one-shot, so is it called two shots? Man idk.

pt.1

italics refer to Tenko’s future self

Tenko. His name echoed in his own head, a visage of his sister crumbling plays out like a broken film. A sudden itch on his neck for the fifth time in the minute, pieces of his skin stuck under his untrimmed nails. ‘Someone please help me.’ He couldn’t drag the words from the back of his throat, they came out as a pitiful croak paired with a loud sniffle. He closed his eyes, wandering aimlessly, maybe the middle of the busy road would be a good destination

One step. Two steps. Three steps. He can hear the cars, speeding past him. Digging his fingers onto his dainty palm, he’s ready, ready to die. It’ll be fine now. He can atone for his sins, everything will be fine now. One step into the black tarmac, another one, awaiting for an impact. However, a soft palm came across his arm, pulling him away from his despair. “Hey kid, are you alright? What’s your name?” In front of him was a woman, the sun shone on her face, a soft smile that melted away his gloom.

“Tenko.” His hands bloodied. “I killed them. I didn’t mean to. I swear.” Continous breaks in his words, his croaked voice a dead giveaway of his stammering composure. Not even a second later, crystalline tears formed in his eyes, waterworks spilling out like a broken fire hydrant.

She crouched down in front of him, wiping away the blood on his hand, the back of his hand on top pf her palm. He removed his hand defensively, almost by instinct, he didn’t want to hurt anyone else. “Don’t worry, I’m not easily hurt!” She raised her arm, flexing her non-existent muscle. In that very moment, Tenko was sure that this woman was the warm sunshine in the cold winter, the sunshine everyone looked forward to in the spring. Yes. He was sure of it. This woman was his hero.

She stood up and offered her hand, he wanted to hold it, he really did but he retracted his hand in fright for her safety. It must be because his quirk’s activation is through his hands. “Would you grab onto my bag then? We wouldn’t want you lost now.” A white leathered crossbody bag with golden chain and a small keychain— a cute little All Might keychain, a keepsake from an old friend. He latched onto her bag with only two of his fingers touching, he followed her, his trust on her palms.

Then, they arrived in front of a small clinic which resembled a traditional Japanese home more than anything. Tenko talked with the doctor who was a middle aged woman who gave him a lollipop after his checkup. Meanwhile, Y/n was outside on the call with cops talking about the boy she just found. He was easily traced back to the Shimura residence in which the police quickly dispatched some officers to assess the situation.

The doctor then quickly explained to her what was his quirk and its activation requirements after a few tests. She wrapped a bandage around his pinkies to prevent his quirk from activating. “Tenko let’s go shopping!” She carried him, his bottom resting on her arm. Tenko remained quiet, he didn’t know how to respond to this bright light. Shall he blink his eyes and hide from it? Or shall he admire it and accept its warmth? He had no choice but to take that captivating warmth.

Firstly, she took him to the kids clothing section. She bought him necessities, a few pair of pants, and a couple shirts, of course some onesies too! She knew that he wasn’t in the mood for dress up but took notice of which clothes seemed to cause a crease in the skin between his brows and which ones widened his eyes.

Off to the shoes section! “May I have red shoes please?” He looks at the vibrant crimson shoes, which happened to be the most expensive and popular in the section. His eyes suddenly looked towards the price tag, “Nevermind!” He quickly said, he didn’t want to be a burden or seem picky.

Y/n was quick to pick up where his eyes went and knew that he was probably worried about the price, it was a mature thing to think of but she didn’t want him to be like that. Children should act spoilt as much as they can. “What a nice eye you have Tenko! Is there anything else you want?” He shook his head. To be honest, Tenko wanted everything but he was satisfied with that. As long as this nice lady was with her, he’ll be satisfied. “These shoes aren’t great for running, let’s grab you one more pair.” Tenko’s eyes widened, he felt like a child with a mom who loved spoiling him.

“That one please.” He pointed at a white pair of running shoes which lit up when it was to be stomped. She puts on the shoe trying out if it was his size. He was too shy to say that it wasn’t his size and it seemed to deplete most of his energy when he did. “I don’t think it’s my size.” He released a deep breath after she took her attention to the saleswoman and asked for a smaller size.

“A kid also needs boots for rainy days, am I right?” She looked at Tenko and smiled. Tenko was amazed, no one has ever smiled at him consecutively, his amazement nearly brought him to his tears but he bit back his sobs and enjoyed the fleeting moment.

Y/n was carrying the shopping bags while holding Tenko’s hand. “Say Tenko, what kind of toys do you want?”

“Um…” He didn’t know. He had a lot in mind. He wanted a lot. “Please pick for me.” Y/n formed a faux disappointed pout. She picked up an All Might plushie which was a trend amongst her students, “This one?” She quickly picked up on his dismay. “How about this?” She picked up a dinosaur plushie instead in which received a delightful nod from Tenko. My mom is the kindest person in the world.

He looked at a car toy, but it wasn’t just any car toy. It was a car toy that does need batteries to move, it just needed to dragged onto the floor to create friction and stores kinetic energy. When released, the car’s kinetic energy is used up and releases thermal energy as waste and finally moves at a high speed. It was those kind of toy cars kids bragged about in the playground. “The toy car too please!” He accidentally yelped out, he didn’t mean to be so selfish, it just slipped out accidentally.

My mom kinda spoilt me and I grew out to be a little stubborn.

She picked up lots of things as well, toys for educational learning and some reading books for his bedtime stories. “Tenko should we go home now?” What an odd word for him, wasn’t his home the one he destroyed? If so, he didn’t want to go back. “My apartment’s a 30 minute drive from here, I think we have to hail a cab. Man ain’t that annoying, Tenko?” She looked down at him and watched him nod in agreement. She wanted to have a small conversation with him, to slowly distracting from his misery but it seemed that he was rather a little empty instead. Tenko chose to avoid it.

She’s also the most talkative, she also gets along well with my girlfriend and sometimes I forget that I’m her child. I bet that they’re making fun of me right now.

The drive back home was quiet, Tenko sat beside her and his head leaning on her arm, his eyes fluttering and threatening to close itself. He didn’t want to go to sleep, he’ll see them again. He didn’t want that, but with one small caress of her hand on his head, he drifted to wonderland.

When they arrived in front of her apartment, Y/n carried Tenko into the apartment first, placing him onto the couch and picked up the shopping bags. She decided to tap him lightly, after debating if she should bathe him or prepare dinner first. “Tenko, lovely, let’s go bathe you.” Tenko nodded while rubbing his eye.

She made sure the water was not too warm nor too cold, that the pressure of the water was not too strong especially because his skin was sensitive. “Close your eyes.” Tenko shut them firmly, he hated getting shampoo in his eyes, it was too painful. She massaged the shampoo on his scalp with soft touches. Although she was a teacher, she didn’t truly know how gentle she should be when it comes to bathing them.

Next, she lathered an oatmeal bar soap on his skin as recommended by the doctor. She was warned not to use anything with scented chemicals and made sure that everything was natural. After rinsing him with water, she took a fresh towel and patted his body dry before wrapping his body with it. “Thank you.” He muttered softly, he fiddled with his fingers and shied away from her gaze. She could only smile softly and ruffle his head, that must have taken all of his courage.

After dressing him up, she decided to go prepare dinner whilst Tenko played with the new toys and watch the TV. It turns out that he really liked Pingu, encapsulated by the small penguin who spoke an odd language.

Once dinner was prepared, Tenko was called into the kitchen. He had a special chair, three pillows stacked on top of each other so that he could reach the tall table. “Thank you for the food.” Y/n and Tenko said in unison however his voice was meek and barely audible. She had cooked popular dish popular amongst the population, katsu curry and served with the steaming white rice. That night, it became his favourite dish.

The night loomed over the sky, the moon casting its glow on every single house. “Good night, Tenko.” She tucked him into bed, leaving the night light on per his request. Tenko hated the dark. There were monsters in the dark.

“Will you please sing me a bedtime song?” Y/n felt tingly sensations all over her body, was this what her mother felt when she was kid?

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

By the end of the song, his eyes were shut close, he had a firm grip around his dinosaur stuffy, she watched his chest rise up and down leaving her heart at rest. Y/n never dreamt of being a mother, the pregnancy thing threw her off, she never dealt well with pain ever since she was a kid. However, this feeling satisfaction and an overwhelming feeling of warmness surged like a tsunami.

The next day, Tenko woke up to the aromatic scent of pancakes with the strong coffee bean roast he was quite familiar with. “Good morning Tenko! Have you brushed your teeth?”

She chirped like a bird even though it was so early in the morning, she was boisterous, her arms blustered around so much I thought she’d fly away. At that moment, I realised that I wanted to stay with her.

“Yes.” A weak response.

I hated loud voices, but I looked forward to mom’s everyday. One time I came back late from the arcade because I was hanging out with Touya and Hawks and she yelled at me. I never really understood it back then but she just cared for me. I guess I was a bit of a troubled kid.

“Do you like strawberries on your pancakes Tenko?” I never liked strawberries nor pancakes, I had no interest in anything but mom gave me something to love.

Pancakes, strawberries, dinosaurs, games, picnics. She gave me more than a home, she gave me gave me a place to be a child. When she had to take me to the orphanage, it seemed to break her heart more than it did to mine. I had only known her for two weeks but it felt like she was the one who gave birth to me.

“Tenko, I’ll visit you everyday. Just wait for me, m’kay?” Tenko didn’t want her to leave he wanted to hold her sleeves but he couldn’t. He didn’t want her to turn like his family. She took off the All Might keychain off her bag, “This is my lucky charm, this is veryyy precious to me. So when I’m not here, this lil guy will watch you for me.” She couldn’t help but develop maternal feelings, it wasn’t pity, it was a desire to protect the child. She kneeled in front of him, giving him a hug, this kid needed it than anyone. “It’ll take a little while, but I’ll bring you home, Tenko. I promise.”

There were no promises she did not keep. That’s what was so admirable of her. Moms are like superheroes, aren’t they?

A month later, after the long process of paper works and what not. Y/n brought Tenko home. “Welcome home Tenko!” He wore a yellow party hat with white polka dots. There was a huge banner across the living room which read, ‘Welcome Home’. It felt like sunshine on a cold winter morning.

Tenko finally got to sit in that dining table once again, and he will continue to do so from now on. Y/n placed a piece of deboned fish on top of Tenko’s bowl, it reminded him sort of his biological mother, his mom wasn’t a bad mom— she just never protected him from dad.

They were complex feelings a 5 year old couldn’t comprehend. Even when hatred bloomed in Tenko’s heart, a part of him said to himself that the man was still his father; he craved his attention like it was water yet also detested his gaze. “Tenko, sweetheart, are you alright?” Tenko’s vision slightly warped, next thing he knew his cheeks were wet, he was being hugged by this woman while being softly patted on his back.

His tiny fists gripped on her blouse, wrinkling it slightly, he buried his face on her and wailed, “Mom!” Chanting the word over and over again like it was an incantation. Tenko didn’t know if it was right to call her mom, but he did. He didn’t know if it meant that he betrayed his biological mother but this woman felt like his mom. She felt like a warm blanket in a cold winter, a sudden shower mid-summer, a bluster of gale in the dry summer. He knew that she was mom.

“Tenko, you’re fine now. You’re home now.” Right. This is home. “Hush now, sweetheart.” She carried him in her arms swiftly and sat down on her chair. She sang his favourite song, ‘you are my sunshine’ in a sweet melodious voice lulling him to sleep. Tenko cries began to cease to hiccups, his eyes became swollen, his lashes clumped together due to his tears. His grip on her blouse began to loosen when his eyes began to close.

Y/n took him to his newly designed room, it was a shame he couldn’t see it yet. His bed frame was of a sports car, there was a basketball hoop stuck on his door, a small tent just a few feet away from his bed with stuff toys inside, boxes of legos ready to be built by him, and some toy cars. Y/n slowly put him on his bed, tucking him in under the blue sheets, brushing away the hair on his face. She kisses his forehead and was ready to leave until his tiny fist clung onto her, “Mommy, please don’t go.”

That day, Y/n swore to herself that she’d help her son get back up on his feet, to make sure that he never feels this way. How could a boy think that his mother leave him? That was too cruel. “Yes Tenko, mommy’s here.” Y/n hands found her way on Tenko’s head, her palm repeatedly caressing his head. “Oh my sweet child.” She mumbles as she watches his chest rise up and down. “The root of my life.” Y/n never felt any sort happiness like this until she had Tenko, her one-month pregnancy was sure tough but it was worth the wait.

Never in her 20 years of living had she thought that the mere sound of his breathing would the sound to bring her to sleep, it soothed her nerves like it was the smoothness of fine silk. “My son, my sweet treasure.”

The next day was Tenko’s first day of his new preschool. A different place meant different people and Tenko was feeling extra nervous that morning. “Tenko, wake up now.” Tenko felt her palm softly hitting his stomach to wake him up. His eyes blinked opened, the light hitting his eyes causing him to shut it quickly.

“Good morning, mom.” He greeted softly, slowly getting up from the bed using the heel of his palm as a support.

She replied in a cheery tone paired along with her bright smile. “Good morning, Tenko!” She ruffled his hair, finding his bed hair cute. “Let’s go take a shower now.” She stands up and waited for Tenko to follow her whilst he fought back from his back kissing the bed again.

Tenko walked into the bathroom a few moments later, he was still not ready to take a shower but he did not want to disappoint his mom.

“Is the water too cold?” She asked as soon as the water hit Tenko’s skin, he shook his head firmly and closed his eyes so that water wouldn’t go in them.

“Are you excited for school Tenko?” Tenko didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he’d have friends or if people would find him weird or gloomy. He had fears which a typical 5 year old would not have.

While she helped Tenko shower, she babbled about what to do and not do in school. She told him to be a “good boy” and that he should listen to his teachers.

When they had arrived in school, Tenko became indecisive. He didn’t want to leave his mom’s sweet abode, he was scared to meet new people. “Mom I don’t wanna go.” Tenko gripped on the straps of his backpack tightly, his nails scratching against the fabric.

She crouched in front of him, not caring about how hard it was due to her black pencil skirt. “Are you scared?” She asked which he nodded his head to. “Sweetheart, don’t worry, the kids are really nice here. If not, you can tell mommy and we’ll find you a different school.”

She took his small, soft hands and caressed it with her thumb. “Besides mommy will be there at the start and see how it goes.” Tenko nodded at her words. To others it may seem like empty words that mothers say to their children just to stop them from whining, but in reality mothers do their best just to see their kids smile.

“What if I don’t make any friends?” Tenko sulked, he hated being alone more than anything. He hated it how there was an indescribable ache in his heart when he feels such strong emotions.

“Why would anyone not befriend such a nice and cuuuuttteeee person?” She pinches his cheeks slightly causing Tenko to feel a bit shy. Tenko felt shy, it was like this as well when old grandmas complimented him in the park; he kind of liked the attention. It made him feel loved.

My mom helped me regain my confidence, she helped me ask out the love of my life and helped me make friends.

“Good morning, L/n-san.” A soft voice said from behind, she immediately recognised who that voice belonged to. She turned her head to look back, and knew it would be the snow haired woman with a delicate yet cold stare.

She stood up properly to greet her and Tenko quickly hid behind her legs. “Good morning, Todoroki-san. This is my son, Tenko.” She nudged at the boy behind her. “Could that be Touya-kun?” Y/n immediately took notice of the vibrant crimson haired boy who stood beside Rei.

“Ah yes! Touya, say hi.” Rei urges to greet Y/n and her son who introduced himself with such great confidence.

“I’m Touya! What’s your name?” Dabi is my great friend. We met as kids cause we were at the same kindergarten.

“My name is Tenko.” He slowly slid out behind his mom’s legs, and made direct eye contact with the turquoise eye coloured boy.

“Touya, I hope you take care of Tenko-kun here.” Rei said to Touya which slightly comforted Y/n worries of Tenko being a lonely child.

“Of course! A hero takes care of civilians!” Touya exclaimed in pride which made the two mothers giggle.

“Hey! A hero doesn’t need to take care of another hero!” Tenko argued, his voice slightly getting louder at the end causing Rei and Y/n to laugh a little more.

“You wanna be a hero too?” Touya questioned with great eagerness and enthusiasm. He was pretty loud and boastful as a kid. He hasn’t changed at all.

“Yes! Do you?” Tenko’s eyes twinkled at the new, profound friendship he knew was about to bloom.

Touya clenches his fists and nods his head with passion. “You bet I do!” The two mothers smiled at the sight, a feeling of warmth sinking in their hearts.

My mom was the reason I wanted to become a hero. When no one reached out their hand for me and when I had given up, she took my hand and forced me out of the darkness.

A message for my mom? Oh uhm. Mom thank you for everything, thank you for being my mom.

[i-cant-sing]

I feel like big brother dabi frequently checks little sister reader out from her preschool so that they can do stupid shit together and he can one up his siblings on who spends the most time with her

He does! And it's not him "checking her out" as much as it is "luring her out" or borderline kidnapping her, but he's done it so many times now that Enji officially gave your school the green light to let the "brooding, scary villain" take you.

The bigger the age gap between you two, the more softer he is towards you. Like in this scenario, Dabi is like 20 something, while reader is barely 5.

As soon as Dabi picks you from school, he's taking your pink bag and hanging it on his shoulder while letting your small hand hold his two fingers as you both walk, all while humming when you tell him about your day and how you learned what a "verb" is.

He'll take you to a convenience store first, to get you something to eat. And sure, mama Rei always makes the yummiest meals with the best organic ingredients and papa Enji always take you to Michelin starred restaurants and gourmet ice cream parlours, they still can't beat the addicting taste of cheap convenience store junk food, which is all Dabi can afford at the moment. And the best thing is, he doesn't say no. You want two ice creams? Fuck yeah, he'll get 4! That's just a fantastic idea and he won't say no to it.

Then later he'll tae you to a park, where you'll be playing more by yourself than have him play with you. However, you can't play with other kids either without his permission. If you see kids your age at the play ground, you'll have to come to Dabi and ask if you can play with them. Sometimes he'll say yes, mostly he says no. That's when you have to huff and guilt trip him with your small voice and complain how no one ever plays with you (because everyone is busy) and now Dabi is sitting in the sandbox at your pretend restaurant while you serve him a sand cake. (On the inside, he's crying because his inner child wants to give you all the love and affection and everything he never got)

After playing, you're tired and looking like a complete mess, so while you sit im Dabi's lap taking huge gulps from your water bottle, he's combing your hair with his hands and tying it into pretty braids with cute bows (that he absolutely does mot carry around with him and no, those are not your pink hair ties on his wrist. That's fashion), all while he's narrowing his eyes at you as you're inhaling your water.

"Hey, slow down, brat. You'll choke and I won't save you."

If he has time, he'll take you to McDonald's and get you a happy meal, not getting himself one cause again- he's poor. But he will steal your fries though, and your drink. Not that you mind. No, no. You love sharing your food with Dabi, in fact, you'll probably be feeding him with your own hands.

"Here comes the plane, Dabi! Say ahh!" As you poke his closed lips with a fry.

Sometimes you'll ask about his scars. You're still too young to understand it all, and you being a curious kid, you often ask about his appearance. With gentle hands, you'll be tracing his staples and burn marks, asking if they hurt.

He'll shrug. "They used to, but not anymore." But maybe his tone wasn't convincing enough, or maybe you just needed an excuse to your Hello Kitty bandaids, but you're pulling them out pf your bag and placing them haphazardly on Dabi before kissing each boo boo to "make the pain go away".

You don't notice the misty eyes of your brother while you're kissing his burns.

Before the sun sets, Dabi is taking you back home (or else Rei will have his head), and you're so tired that you fall asleep while he's carrying you, drooling slightly on his shoulder as you mumble about Dabi and him being the best (which he obviously recorded to piss off his siblings. Shotou and Fuyumi are 1000% convinced that this was a deep fame and not you).

He'll tuck you in bed, maybe kiss your forehead before leaving. On his way home, he's looking through all the photos he secretly took that day of you,and there are even some very shaky, badly taken photos of him by you (because you wanted to take photos of your big brother too🥺) before Dabi settles on the one picture where he's looking ominous (but his eyes are soft) and you're in his arms, all giddy and happy.

New wallpaper 🥺💖

[kookykrooked]

They walk In on you changing

Characters: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, hitoshi shinsou, tamaki amajiki

Warnings: suggestive, nudity,

Main Masterlist

Mha Masterlist

Izuku Midoriya

After training for a couple of hours you were now sweaty, cold and tired so at the moment a nice hot bath sounded like heaven so that exactly what you did but you were ment to study with midoriya which had slipped your mind and so when he walked in you almost had heart attack and back the looks of it he actually had one.

You were drying your and your hair after having a bath and hadn't yet got any clothes on just as you were about to grab some clothes you heard your door open and close

"Hi y/n, I hope your ready to stud-"

He stopped talking when he looked over at you his mouth now ajar as he stared at your body and you were to horrified to move and yiu were both like that for a good 3 minutes before you started yelling and throwing stuff which he ran out dropping his stuff but not before banging his head into the door forgetting to open it.

So let's say it was a pretty awkward study session because you could see him glancing back and forth at your tits

Katsuki Bakugo

You were sat at lunch when someone had spilt water all over your top and not saying anything you ran away your dorm embarrassed and wet but unknowing to you a certain blonde wasn't far behind

You were now only in your bra and your skirt was halfway down your legs when bakugo walked in "oi are you alright you...ran off..." his words trailed off when he saw you while you was turning red

"woooww I never realized how good your body look n/n" he was obviously smirking and that just made you turn more red before you started yelling at him to get out and throwing pillow at him while the whole time he was crackling and walked out

Hitoshi shinsou

You were on a walk with him before you fell into a lake and you were now put pf a fresh nice shower about to get changed that was when shinsou walked in

"Hey y/n I wanted to come make sure your okay- oh sorry I didn't realise you were changing" and he walked straight back out with a red face he's a true gentleman.

Tamaki Amajiki

Poor bby passed out :(

Because you were now in your last year the teachers were pushing you to train longer and so you were now changing after training for 3 hours your body felt like it was on fire while you were changing

"y-y/n I won-wondering if you'd li- OH I'M SO SORRY" he screamed before attempting to run out the room before slamming into the walm due to the fact he covered his eyes

The next day he couldn't look at you without picturing your naked body which ending leading some more mature activities

[azurem]

I wrote this thing in a single run at 4 am (inkmare)

“Pf. Did you see their faces?”

Nightmare had to stop the smile that raised to his face as the sound of Ink’s snickers filled the empty room, yet he didn't fight the way that Ink leaned onto him, untangling him from his tentacles so Ink could hug his neck. He leaned right back onto his touch, hugging Ink’s waist back. He glanced at the closed door one last time before focusing his attention on Ink’s face, his amusement as infectious as a summer’s cold. “I did.”

“They looked so–” Ink choked a bit, hugging Nightmare’s neck tighter as if the possibility of him falling if he didn’t grab onto him was a real one. He shook his head, a permanent smile embedded onto his face by then, “-confused! Have you ever seen Blue look like that?”

“Never,” Nightmare answered truthfully, his tentacles swaying slowly behind him as Ink hid his face onto his shoulder, his own shaking with the effort to keep his voice down. He patted Ink’s back, sighing contently just from being able to experience the texture of his spine against his fingers. “They don’t suspect a thing, do they? Have they asked anything… suspicious?”

“Pf, no,” Ink said back, his snickers finally calming down a bit as he stopped hugging Nightmare’s neck with both hands, his now free hand reaching down to tug on the tail of his scarf, his gaze gliding through the surface of the cloth before it returned to Nightmare’s eye, the mirth in it softening to the always welcome fondness that Nightmare already got accustomed to. He drops the tail, letting it fall to its place before fully leaning onto Nightmare once again, a fox-like smile setting into his mouth as he tilted his head, half-lidding his eyes. “Why, worried I’ll tattle on us?”

The idea is so absurd on itself that Nightmare can't help but snort, his hold on Ink getting a bit tighter as he resists the idea of dipping him as if in a dance, just to daze him for a moment, as short as it were. The idea makes the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, but he decides against it just to avoid risking ruining the lighthearted moment. To humor him, he plays along, acting a more serious tone, even if he can’t have it on himself to get his smile off his own face yet. “Do I have reasons to be worried?”

“No,” Ink said, but his grin didn’t falter. As Nightmare decided to reward the simple answer with a chaste kiss, their mouths meeting together in a motion that by now felt as natural as breathing, he made a pleased hum that seemed almost relieved in the way it often did when Nightmare’s hand cupped his heated cheek. He sighed as the contact stopped, his eyelights changing in a blink to a soothing green and a pale pink. It seemed that whatever plan he had in mind was forgotten to favor the softer sides of him. “No reason at all.”

Nightmare let out an amused huff, more than satisfied with the fact. He leaned down once more, just to spare Ink from the extra effort that would be to try to get to his level. When the gesture got repaid with Ink nuzzling his cheek with his own, not unlike a cat, he couldn’t even think of fighting the smitten, foolish smile that plagued his expression, a pleased sigh leaving his lips. As one hand wandered up, caressing the top of Ink’s head, he muttered, “You’re just…”

“Be creative,” Ink tutted, his eyes turning into half-moons when even the teasing words couldn't bring down the dumb expression on Nightmare’s face. “If you say beautiful again, I’ll get upset.”

“...pretty cheeky,” Nightmare finished, a moment of hesitation snitching on his initial choice of words. When he caught onto Ink’s expression, he added, his voice light, “I will think of more compliments.”

“Well, you better,” Ink said, frowning. By the way his eyelights remained red-less, Nightmare knew that his anger was nothing but for show. He blew a soft raspberry before looking to the side, glancing at him one last time before closing his eyes. “Really. You’re starting to get pretty one dimensional.”

“Oh, how your words wound me,” Nightmare said without missing a beat, gently swaying from side to side, taking Ink with him. He leaned down to kiss his cheek. “But I guess I deserve them. How can you forgive me, when I have wronged you so?”

Ink seemed to think about it for a second, his frown already gone from the soothing touch, a slightly wobbly smile on his lips. He glanced back at Nightmare, his eyes twin half-moons. “...You’re so ditzy.”

“You have turned me into a fool,” Nightmare said. There would have been a time where the words would have come sharp, almost a weapon themselves, but by now they have mellowed to the point it almost sounds like he’s just saying his name. The thought may have worried him once upon a time, but he had since long grown past that. Nightmare swallowed as he found his throat suddenly dry. “The biggest of fools.”

Ink’s eyes welcomed him in shades of the softest pink, so Nightmare couldn’t help but kiss him again. The way his mouth met his, pliant and eager, was more than enough to make Nightmare feel as if he had been set ablaze in the best of ways, for the flame itself felt like it was cradling him. That time, it was Ink who broke the kiss, panting against his mouth. Nightmare couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks were flushed, revealing the unique sight of his freckles, resembling the most lovely set of stars. “Nightmare…”

“I love you,” he interrupted. There wasn’t anything special about it, for those words had been already said many, many times–Nightmare himself had used them way before he fell to the realization that he could love the way he does– but Ink stills, as if he was stricken. The words felt somewhat too big yet too small as he released them to the wind, but Nightmare already got used to the knowledge that they may always feel that way. Even so, he insists on them, unable to do anything else, “I love you.”

Ink blinked, his eyes widened. He was about to say something, maybe the same thing, but Nightmare stopped him with a second kiss, as short as a passing thought. When they separated, Ink pulled back in just as quickly as it was over, less graceful as they couldn’t keep down the twin smiles off their faces.

(It wasn’t hard to convince their teams that his negotiation attempt had went well, but not well enough to avoid them both ending up more disheveled than before they left.)

[coloursflyaway]

I love your stories about Edwin and Charles, how you make Charles smile, and how Edwin always looks up to him. I wanted to try to leave a little hurt/comfort prompt where Edwin gets hit by some kind of curse, and Charles has to take care of him and find a cure. Or maybe it's a curse that will only last for a couple of days, but Charles is sick with worries (and then feelings realization, pf course)

Of course, it's totally fine if you can't, but I had to try. Thank you so much for your writing ❤️❤️❤️

Hi ♥ Sorry that it took so long, but this kind of, sort of got out of hand. Hope you like it!

Breathing Space

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.300

Read on AO3

It happens in the blink of an eye. A flash of light, violet and yellow and blue, sparkling in a way that would be beautiful if Charles couldn’t taste the curse in it, like rust and blood and soil, and then Edwin is crumbling beneath his own non-existent weight, and Charles knows he is screaming only when he hears his own voice ringing in his ears.

During a case, Edwin gets hit by a curse and won't wake up.

It happens in the blink of an eye.

A flash of light, violet and yellow and blue, sparkling in a way that would be beautiful if Charles couldn’t taste the curse in it, like rust and blood and soil, and then Edwin is crumbling beneath his own non-existent weight, and Charles knows he is screaming only when he hears his own voice ringing in his ears.

The wizard, who they have been following for days now, is forgotten instantly, suddenly the least important being in this room, this world, because Edwin is on his knees, shoulders trembling, head pitched forward and his arms hanging limply at his sides. It takes Charles three steps to get to him, which feel like the longest distance he has ever had to cross, before he is falling down in front of Edwin, shielding him from whatever else the wizard might come up with.

His trembling hands come up to hold Edwin by the shoulders as Charles frantically searches his face for any marks – the cracks that indicate petrification, a sickly glow that comes from a binding hex, the translucence that means disintegration – but for a moment, there is nothing, just Edwin’s lips parted, his eyes wide and shocked. And Charles is about to breathe a sigh of relief, because while the spell clearly hit Edwin, it must be ineffective against ghosts, or supernatural beings in general, or maybe just Edwin; it doesn’t matter.

So, Charles starts to pull back, ready to shoot Edwin a smile and get up to go after the wizard once more, but it’s a moment too early, because with his hands still on Edwin’s shoulders, Charles watches as his eyes go dim, then black, and then close.

His body goes slack, still in Charles’ arms, head rolling forward against his shoulder, and Charles has felt fear before and yet learns it anew right there, kneeling on the floor, clinging to Edwin’s lifeless body.

The wizard uses the chaos that ensues to flee; Charles doesn’t even see him leave, just hears the electric charge of magic, the woosh of air filling the space his body had occupied just moments ago. But it doesn’t matter, how could it, not when Edwin’s lifeless body is in his arms, solid and yet without weight, without the spark that usually makes him feel real.

Charles forces himself to take a deep breath, then another one, just like he taught Edwin to do mere weeks after they had met, anything to force down the panic that threatens to overtake his body. He can’t let it, not when they are still here, exposed in an old hotel’s hallway, when the man who has done this to Edwin could be coming back any second.

Another breath, one that Charles forces down deeper than it wants to go, filling up lungs he does not have any longer; another one, just so Charles can get up, taking Edwin with him.

He’s light, which is nothing new, but there is something distinctly missing, something Charles usually can feel whenever they touch: Edwin’s energy, whatever it is that makes him him, is cut off, subdued, impossible for Charles to reach out to and touch.

It’s terrifying in a way that is so visceral that Charles’ next breath doesn’t make it down to his lungs, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat; he can’t feel Edwin, something he has gotten so used to doing with every touch that it turns his fingertips to ice where they are holding onto Edwin’s back, the length of his arms brittle and breaking and all but useless.

If it wasn’t Edwin he was holding, and if keeping Edwin safe wasn’t an instinct woven so deeply into the fabric of his soul it made up half its threads, he’d drop him from the shock of it. But it is Edwin, and so the breath just chokes him, as Charles cradles Edwin to his chest as tightly as he can without splintering his arms, and sets off to bring him home.

He lays Edwin down on their sofa, and for the first time since Charles met him, he looks dead.

The thought rips through Charles like a bullet would, and he banishes it immediately, wouldn’t know what else to do. Because Edwin is still in there, he knows it, has to know it so he won’t fall apart.

And ghosts, after all, disintegrate, don’t die like humans would, and Edwin is still there, solid and real on their sofa, even if his eyes are closed and his skin pale, and Charles will make him wake up again, even if it’s the last thing he ever does.

They have a library that contains all of the knowledge Charles could ever dream of and then some, so he goes and picks out as many book as he can carry and brings them over to where Edwin is laying.

There’s no space next to him, not the way he is spread out, and for a second, Charles considers… but he won’t. He wouldn’t.

So, instead, he sinks down to the floor next to the sofa and starts reading, and only stops when the first book proves utterly, utterly useless.

The second one does, too.

The third book mentions parsley as being connected to the underworld, talks about its vapours calling out to their goddess, so Charles finds some in Edwin’s unending jars and boxes, and burns it in a shallow dish he balances on Edwin’s chest.

Smoke wafts up and obscures his face; there must be something to it, because Charles can smell it bittersweet when he forces down another breath, and for a moment, he can feel hope flutter in his chest, a terrified sparrow caught between his ribs, ready to sing if Edwin opens his eyes. Only that when the mist clears, Edwin is laying there like he had been before.

Eyes closed, unmoving, and Charles has to shut his as well for a moment, just to make sure he doesn’t scream. The sight stays with him anyway, burnt into his retinas, and Charles counts to ten, then forces himself to take a breath, just to keep the panic from smothering him.

Another, and another, until he can open his eyes once more; another, and he picks up the next book. There is still a sliver of space next to Edwin’s feet, calling out to him, and Charles think and thinks and doesn’t do it this time, either.

The books tell him about myrtle and mistletoe and feverwort, so Charles tries all of them and watches them fail to change a thing, no matter if Charles burns them or puts their ground up leaves on Edwin’s silent tongue, or dabs their juices onto Edwin’s eyelids.

Fifteen books in, it becomes difficult to see the letters clearly, not because the sun had gone down and risen three times by now, but because Charles cannot swallow the panic down any longer. It’s clogging up his throat, as sharp and corrosive as bile, ripping at his chest with claws that slice right through Charles’ soul.

Edwin is still in there, he knows it, because if he wasn’t, Charles wouldn’t be here anymore, either.

He is in there, dormant or waiting or suppressed, and Charles will get him back, no matter if it takes herbs or spells or magic trinkets or just time. So, Charles puts a hand on his chest, right above where his heart would be, just like his mother taught him decades ago, and makes himself breathe, one, two, three.

It doesn’t change anything, and yet it helps; Charles looks down at Edwin, who looks frozen in time, pale skin and pink lips and lashes fanned out over high cheekbones, and he takes another breath.

And another one.

Crystal finds him on the morning of the fourth day, storming into the agency in a flurry of auburn hair and her purple coat; Charles hasn’t forgotten she exists – how could he ? – and yet, she has been as far from his mind as if he had.

“Now, I know you guys don’t drink coffee”, she starts, as loud and bright as the beginning of summer, as welcome as a gust of warm wind, “But you have to be aware that it is still pretty fucking rude to stand up your almost-best friend at – oh fuck, what happened?”

By the time Crystal has reached the sofa her eyes are wide and worried, and they remind Charles of Edwin’s the last time he saw them, and the thought hurts and throbs and makes him feel faint; he swallows it down with another mouthful of air, because there is no time for panic, no time for anything but figuring this out.

“Spell. I’m trying to figure out what to do about it”, Charles explains as succinctly as he can, because if he starts to go into all the forty-two hours and twenty-three minutes he has been sitting here, reading, he’ll break down before he reaches the second day. “Sorry for standing you up though. I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“It’s fine”, Crystal interrupts him before he can finish speaking; Charles doesn’t even have to look at her to know she means it, but does so anyway. “Any way I can help?”

And Charles loves her, he really, truly does.

Crystal makes it through a book and a half before she has to leave, and Charles gets up for a moment to hug her goodbye. He doesn’t really feel it and yet it helps, even if just a little. Then, after she has walked through the door, he looks back down at Edwin and considers sitting down, right there, where…

But he doesn’t.

When the botany books run out, Charles moves on to healing gems, and adorns Edwin’s still body with haematite and smokey quartz and amethyst, but there is no twitch, no flutter of an eyelid, no sign of life, of afterlife, at all.

So, Charles breathes away the panic, even if it feels like swallowing splinters and shards of rock, and leaves the smokey quartz on Edwin’s chest nonetheless. Even if it doesn’t call Edwin back to him, the book spoke of protection, and if there is something both of them need, it is that.

On the morning of the fifth day, Crystal returns, Niko right behind her.

She’s carrying the largest cup of coffee Charles has ever seen, her laptop under her arm, and there is determination radiating from her that Charles would be reassured by, if the panic hadn’t made its permanent home just below his collarbones by now, too knotted and tangled and vast to swallow any longer.

He still breathes it into submission, but every time a page turns, and an herb or an incantation or a gem fails to make a difference, it takes more effort, more breaths than before, until it feels like forcing himself to breathe is all Charles is still doing. Breathing and reading and watching Edwin like he is frozen in time and space, trapped in the spell’s amber like the rarest of butterflies.

“I’ve looked up some things”, Crystal tells him, and Niko nods, while she puts down her bag. “Niko brought a ghost box, in case we can communicate with him like that. And a Ouija board.”

That, at least startles a laugh out of Charles; it’s such a strange idea to try and reach Edwin like this, and yet, he realises, he is not above trying. Not if there is the smallest, the most miniscule possibility that it might work.

“Anything else I should know about?”, he asks, and it’s like he had forgotten that he has friends through the grief, the panic he is trying his best to quell, like it had slipped his mind how much he loved them.

Neither of them could replace Edwin, of course not, but not only because Edwin is irreplaceable. Also, because they are too important to be someone’s replacement: Niko and her brightly coloured cheerfulness and surprising insights, Crystal and her brilliant brashness and unbreakable will.

For a moment, Charles loves them enough for it to be overwhelming.

“Not really”, Crystal answers, as she sits down at the desk. “Couldn’t think of anything else. It’s really unfortunate that the one who got sleeping beauty-d was the walking encyclopedia. I’m sure Edwin would come up with two dozen ways of waking you up without breaking a sweat.”

Charles nods; it’s not the first time he has wished for their roles to be reversed, and it won’t be the last time. Both because of the reason Crystal states – Edwin would know what to do instantly, would have gotten Charles back by now – and because, well. Because if the choice is between Edwin and he, then Charles will always choose Edwin, as long as he exists.

“I know”, he states simply, and Crystal’s eyes soften; Charles’ own burn with tears he refuses to shed.

He’ll have time to cry later, once Edwin is back where he belongs.

The spirit box does nothing but spit out garbled nonsense, the planchette doesn’t move a centimetre on their Ouija board, and Charles breathes and breathes and breathes and still feels like he is suffocating.

“Maybe he really is like Sleeping Beauty”, Niko mumbles, half asleep from where she is curled on their single arm chair. It is so late that it is early again, and Charles has almost forgotten that the girls need to sleep, too wrapped up in reading and hoping and trying out things that fail anyway. “Maybe we could kiss him awake. I wouldn’t mind kissing him. If it helps.”

“That’s just a fairytale”, Crystal tells her, half gentle, half exasperated, but Charles almost doesn’t hear her over the rushing of blood he doesn’t have in his ears. “If not, then Charles would have kissed him awake days ago. Right?”

He never thought about it, even if he has been going through books upon books of old mythology – Greek and Roman and Indian and Japanese – and yet he has never considered that fairytales might hold answers, too. And yet, it isn’t that what shocks Charles into almost silence for a second, it’s that Niko says, I wouldn’t mind kissing him, and Charles first thought is, but you can’t.

“Yeah”, he replies, just to have said something, “Sure. I would’ve.”

The girls leave again the next day, citing their need for a shower, a hot meal and an actual bed, and Charles lets them go with a heavy heart and a forced smile on his lips.

He is nearing the end of his wits, all books he can think of having been read and all spells tried, all herbs mashed and burnt and distilled, all healing crystals placed on Edwin, then removed.

Before she closes the door behind her, though, Niko rushes back in and places a bright red band-aid on Edwin’s left hand, right across the back of it.

“I know it’s not a wound that makes him like this”, she explains before either Crystal or Charles can ask, sounding like she has been thinking about this for a long, long time. “But my dad always said that a band-aid would make anything heal better. Maybe not faster. But better. And I want him to heal the best.”

And Charles, even if there might be tears blurring his eyes, couldn’t agree more.

The sun sets on the sixth day and Edwin is still unmoving, lifeless, and Charles pulls out the last book he can find that seems to make any sense, a tome that seems as ancient as the opinions Edwin had on the Sex Pistols when he was still able to voice them, and sinks down onto the floor next to him.

By now, the panic is so familiar that he doesn’t think about it anymore as he turns to look at Edwin, the band-aid on his hand and the stillness of his body, just feels it rush through him with an intensity that never seems to waver, even as he breathes and breathes and breathes.

It’s been almost a week since he last heard Edwin’s voice, last saw his eyes crinkle up when he tries not to smile at one of Charles’ jokes, last felt anything when he looked at Edwin that wasn’t doused and drenched and drowned in fear. And it hurts to think it, terrifies Charles more than he could say, and for a moment, he wants nothing more than to break down and curl up and hold Edwin and just beg him to return, tears and sobs and promises to any god that might listen, which he might or might not keep.

But it wouldn’t help anything, wouldn’t bring Edwin back, so instead, Charles closes his eyes and feels the panic trying to strangle him so tightly it’s like a cord across the windpipe he doesn’t use any longer.

And he sucks in a breath, desperate and shaky, and before he starts to choke, he takes another.

And another.

And another.

And starts to read.

The sun of the seventh day rises and Charles finishes the book and there is nothing in it, nothing at all. Nothing to try, nothing to help, nothing to even give Charles a hint, a sliver, a thread of hope.

He takes a breath and it tastes like ash, feels like barbed wire, and for the first time, the panic stays right where it is, worming its way from his throat up to drown him.

What if he never wakes up?, it whispers, deep and threatening and somehow compelling Charles to almost believe it true. What if that spell snuffed out his soul and this is all you’ll have left of him?

Without thinking, Charles shakes his head, as if he could fling the thoughts from his mind, but the damage is done; he takes another deep breath and the fear clings to the back of his throat, coats his tongue, fills the space between his teeth, and hisses, What if you will never hear him speak another word?

The tears come and this time, Charles cannot stop them; they burn in his eyes, blur his vision, scald his cheeks as they finally fall. It’s like a dam has burst; it’s one tear, then a thousand, then he’s drowning in them like he is drowning in the panic that is clogging up his throat, swelling in his mouth until he cannot even try to take another breath.

What, it taunts, What if you’ll never be able to tell him what he deserved to hear?

He cries for what feels like hours, sunken into a heap at Edwin’s feet and yet, once his tears have dried, it doesn’t feel like their ocean inside his chest has diminished in the slightest. Nor has the panic, even if it is back clawing at his neck, not filling his mouth any longer, but it is there, lurking, waiting for a moment when Charles’ control slips to overtake him once again.

So, he takes in a deep, deep breath, that feels like it is designed to make him burst, and gets up once more.

There are no books left to read, at least none that Charles puts any hopes in, so he just walks over to their library to put back the last one – Edwin would be so mad at him if he found out he had left his priceless tomes on the agency’s floor – but before he turns away, unmoored, untethered, unneeded, something catches his eye.

It’s silly, but maybe silly is the last thing he still has left; he picks up the book of Grimm’s Fairytales and returns to the sofa where Edwin lays.

Ever since Charles had put Edwin down, arms longing to keep his form close for just a little longer, Charles has not been able to touch him. He had been tempted, because ever since they met, Charles had wanted to touch Edwin, but it had felt wrong, because Edwin wasn’t there to feel him, and it had felt wrong because Charles was certain he would be able to tell the difference. And would he be able to take it, wrapping a hand around Edwin’s wrist and not feeling the thrum of his energy, the almost-sensation that touching another ghost could bring?

Charles still isn’t sure, still thinks that it might shatter him beyond recognition.

And yet, he stands above Edwin now, looking down at his familiar features, the sharpness of his jaw and the crisp collar framing it, the emptiness of his expression. It might shatter him, but maybe it would be better than wasting away like this, panic clawing at him with every needless breath he doesn’t take, longing for any kind of contact he could have with Edwin.

He stands there for several endless seconds, before his body starts to move on its own; it feels natural and yet like the biggest possible transgression as Charles lifts Edwin’s legs from the cushions and sits down next to him, before depositing Edwin’s feet safely back in lap.

A second, and the grief, the pain, threatens to overwhelm him, because this is a mirror of how they used to sit on quiet nights; Edwin reading and Charles listening, his feet in Edwin’s lap. It had felt safe back then, like home, and yet it seems to tear him into pieces now.

Charles wants to jump up and run, wants to bury himself in the cushions, under the weightless pressure of Edwin’s feet, and never get up again.

He takes a breath, even if feels like smoke and ash and stale air, and opens the book.

“In times past there lived a king and queen...“

The stories are short, so Charles reads Edwin’s lifeless form Sleeping Beauty and Little Red Riding Hood and Mother Holle, takes a little break and then continues with Rapunzel. There is something soothing about the act, less the sound of his own voice or the content of the stories, but the reading itself. Reading to someone, reading to Edwin.

It makes Charles think of dying and feeling warm although his body was wracked with shivers, makes him think of doing research and having Edwin read out passages of books to him from across the desk, of sitting right here, on this sofa, with their roles reversed and wishing he could fall asleep to Edwin’s voice washing over him.

Edwin can’t hear him, of course, and Charles is aware of it with every word he speaks, and it matters, just not enough. Because Charles can still sit here and read to him, even if his voice doesn’t reach him, and he can wrap his fingers around Edwin’s ankle and hold onto it like it’s the only thing still grounding him, and maybe, for a moment, he can keep the fear at bay.

By the time he has finished the book, all twenty-three stories in it, the sun has set.

Sometime between The Three Spinners and Godfather Death, Charles has turned on the lights, so when he looks over at Edwin once more, he is bathed in golden light, the glow warming up his pale skin, casting shadows across his eyelids, underneath his cheekbones. He looks ethereal, like he was made from porcelain and silk, and Charles aches with the picture, because he looks just as still, just as lifeless. Dead, for the first time since Charles has known him.

The thought wraps around his heart and squeezes until he feels like giving in, forcing tears into Charles’ eyes and the breath he has been drawing so diligently from his imagined lungs once more.

He can’t be dead, not in a real sense, because Charles would not be able to take it.

Edwin’s eyes are closed, like they have been for a week, and Charles misses their colour, misses their light, misses how Edwin rolls them when Charles says something he deems ridiculous; his lips are parted the slightest hint, and Charles misses their smiles, their frowns, the way Edwin’s tongue sometimes flicks out between them, as if he still had to moisten them.

Without meaning to, Charles’ gaze gets stuck on them, on their colour and their plushness, and Niko’s voice echoes in his mind unbidden.

Maybe we could kiss him awake.

They can’t, surely they can’t.

And yet, Charles has tried every spell, every herbal remedy, has read more this past week than within the last three years, and Edwin is still lifeless beside him, untouched by all of it.

It would be a last resort, just a touch of lips against lips, even if Charles feels his heart speed up at the thought, fingers trembling as he puts down the book he is still holding onto. Nothing more than making sure that it’s not such an obvious solution that they missed.

Getting up and losing their connection for just as second feels unbearable, even if he’ll get to touch Edwin again a moment later, so Charles takes a deep breath for a new feeling this time, close to panic and yet softer, sweeter, and leans over Edwin’s body. It’s an awkward position, Edwin’s knees pressed against his chest and one of Charles’ hands clinging onto the backrest of the sofa to keep him upright, the other in the space between Edwin’s neck and shoulder; they’ve been close before, but never like this.

Suddenly, a thought: Edwin loves him.

Somewhere, wherever he is, Edwin loves him, and Charles is going to kiss him and Edwin won’t even know it.

“I’m so sorry, mate”, Charles whispers, even if it is only for his own ears, and feels his heart break. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And he leans down, no breaths, no thoughts, and kisses Edwin.

It’s just like he planned, lips against lips, even if Charles’ eyes slip shut, even if his metaphorical heart is exploding in his chest, a supernova, an atom bomb.

He kisses Edwin, and a silly, hopeful, doomed part of his mind expects Edwin’s hand to shoot up and grab his cheek to pull him in closer, expects Edwin’s lips to part wider in an invitation for Charles to lick into his clever mouth, expects Edwin to feel that he is being kissed and come back to life just to kiss Charles back.

A moment, Charles stays like this, hoping; another, he stays, despairing; at the third, he pulls back, eyes brimming with tears and lips tingling with Edwin’s echo on them.

It’s no fairytale they are in, and Charles had known it from the start, yet as he sits back and touches his fingers to his just-kissed lips, he remembers that most of those end badly anyway.

The girls will find him sooner of later, Charles thinks as he sits and stares at the wall, unable to move, unable to look at Edwin and find him lifeless still. They'll ask him what has happened, because there is no way they will not notice, and Charles doesn’t know which thought hurts him more: telling them and having to see the pity on their faces, or making up an excuse and having to suffer through this by himself.

Again, he touches his fingers to his lips – the twelfth time, he has been keeping count – and feels them tingle. Charles knows why, has known why since his lips touched Edwin’s, has known it before then, even, and yet he doesn’t want to finish the thought, doesn’t want to acknowledge the feeling spreading in his chest, making his dead heart beat once more.

Maybe it had been nothing but folly, but arrogance, but when he had promised Edwin that they would have forever to figure things out, he had believed it.

Even back then, Charles had sensed what his answer would be – because it was Edwin, it was a whole new way to be close to the person he cared about most already, an invitation to explore a side of his best friend Charles never would have considered seeing - but Edwin deserved more than a probably in the future, if you give me time. He deserved a yes, a please, a I love you the most.

And so Charles had put it off, even if he had started watching more closely, tracking Edwin’s motions, tracing the tendons of his hands and the lines of his face, listening to his explanations like one would do to music.

It had worked, too, because now, as he brushes his knuckles across his lips, he can feel Edwin’s on them instead, and his heart swells in his chest with an emotion he refuses to name, and his eyes burn with tears once more.

He breathes in, deep and desperate, even if he knows that the panic will suffocate him anyway.

At some point, Charles spaces out; the moments blur together, it starts to rain and stops again, birds singing in the newly discovered sun, and Charles hears it and yet doesn’t register it in the slightest. It doesn’t matter, after all. How could it?

“Charles?”

For a moment, Charles thinks it’s a dream, or a figment of his imagination, or his mind finally breaking after being focussed on nothing but Edwin for a week, his heart singing with a litany of pleasepleaseplease, but when his head snaps around to look at Edwin, there are eyes meeting his.

Confused, but awake, moss green; Charles’ favourite colour.

“Charles, what happened? Why are you- why are you crying?”

And he is, Charles notices with some detachment, because that, too, doesn’t matter; there are tears on his cheeks and dripping down his chin and making it hard to see, but he doesn’t have to see to find Edwin, falling across the sofa to hug him close to his chest.

Edwin is solid, but most importantly, the hum beneath his astral skin is back, the one that Charles wants to drink in and never be without again, like he has been starved for months and only now been given sustenance.

“You’re back”, he sobs into Edwin’s chest, ignoring how there are knees digging into his side, that Edwin is making a confused little sound at the back of his throat; Edwin is awake, he’s here, and that is all that matters, all that will ever matter from now on. “You’re back, God, I missed you so much-”

A beat passes, then an arm sneaks around his waist, Edwin’s hand settling between Charles’ shoulder blades, and he could stop existing happily right here, wrapped up in Edwin’s presence, the last thing he almost-feels his touch.

“I gather I have been out for quite some time?”, Edwin asks gently, fingers pressing along the ridges of Charles’ spine, who can’t do anything but nod, words drowned out by yet another sob. “I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through. But I’m alright now, I promise. It was just a temporary banishing spell, nothing at all to be worried about.”

His voice is a balm to all of Charles’ wounds, soothing them even if it is yet to early for them to heal. The words don’t make sense right now, even if they might do so later, but Charles cannot bring himself to care; Edwin is the one speaking them, and he could ask for nothing more. There will be time for everything else later, for now, he just clings to Edwin and for the first time in days, takes a breath and feels the panic dissolve.

“You read all of them?”, Edwin asks what feels like hours later, eyes still moss green and wide again, like he cannot believe what Charles is saying. It makes sense; Charles can hardly believe it either.

“Didn’t have a choice, did I?”, he asks, pushing a hand through his hair almost self-consciously. “I didn’t know what else to do, and I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“I suppose. But still.” Edwin smiles at him, like he is surprised that Charles would go do this for him; he shouldn’t be. “I know you don’t particularly enjoy the older encyclopedias we have, so thank you for reading them anyway. Even if that means I might have to surrender my title as the brains of our operation. Seems like you’re the full package now, Charles.”

The words are soft, teasing, and Charles knows he would be blushing at them if he still had blood to make that happen; suddenly, he remembers the feeling of Edwin’s unmoving lips against his, soul-crushing and yet almost perfect.

“I will have to thank Crystal and Niko for their efforts as well”, Edwin muses, unaware of Charles’ brain short-circuiting. They have time now, once again, could have forever, but…. “Is there anything else I should be aware of that happened while I was unconscious?”

For a split-second Charles wants to say no – and in some way, it is true, nothing had happened, nothing could have happened, because the only thing that had mattered had been getting Edwin back – but he remembers leaning down to Edwin so clearly, whispering I’ll make it up to you a second before stealing his second kiss.

“Well”, he starts and Edwin looks at him expectantly; he’s beautiful in a way that Charles only knows from paintings, statues, the poems Edwin sometimes reads him at night. How has he ever been able to miss this? “Sort of. When we were. You know. Through with the books and the spells and all the herbs, Niko had this idea. Half asleep, but still. I didn’t consider it, not at first, but when nothing else had worked, well, I didn’t know what else to do, and I remembered her saying… she compared you to Sleeping Beauty.”

He cannot say it, can’t make his lips form the words, so he says this instead, hopes that Edwin will know just what he means. It takes a moment, then two, and Charles is about to force another breath down his unusable lungs, when Edwin’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Y-You mean…?”, he asks, and Charles has never heard him stutter before, the sound so sweet he casts it in amber within his heart.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Charles, you didn’t have to – I mean, I hope it wasn’t too big an imposition, I never would have expected anything like this from you, it’s-”, Edwin continues like he’s stumbling after the right words, unable to catch up to them, and it is both endearing and heartbreaking, because even if Charles could never return his feelings, kissing Edwin, especially like this, for this, would never be an imposition.

“Nah, don’t worry”, he interrupts, before Edwin can say anything else. A breath, a decision, before he continues, “It’s not like I minded it. Just wish you could have been awake for it.”

He grins to calm his nerves; this isn’t panic, this is tension, this is sweet and yet terrifying, life-changing and yet worth everything.

Edwin stares at him for a second, his feet still in Charles’ lap, and Charles wants to kiss him again, wants to finally have a reason to put a name to the feeling that is lapping at his every thought now, threatening to spill past his eyes, his lips.

“You would rather have kissed me if I was awake?”, Edwin asks, his voice faint, like he cannot believe what he is asking, and Charles nods, not allowing a second in which Edwin could doubt it.

“Of course”, he answers and suddenly, it is so easy, because it’s the truth and because Charles wants Edwin to know it, know he is loved and he is wanted and that he is safe with him. “I know I said we had forever to figure things out, but you know me. I’ve always been inpatient, right?”

And it’s like watching the sun rise, Edwin’s wide eyes slowly lighting up like morning breaking, and Charles is warmed by it like by nothing be before in his existence; this, a voice whispers, must be what being in love feels like.

“You’re right”, Edwin finally replies, slower than usual, almost dreamlike, “Patience had never been a particular virtue of yours.”

He could drag this out, Charles knows it, and part of him wants to, because this is the kind of tension he thrives on, the sweetness before a kiss, before everything has been acknowledged, and because he has missed just looking at Edwin almost as much as he now misses the feeling of Edwin’s lips against his. But he’ll have time to look at Edwin later, too, they will have time to talk, because forever is back on the table and Charles will use up every second of it to spend it with Edwin.

“Still isn’t”, he therefore tells Edwin, leaning in just a little closer. The position is almost as awkward as it had been the first time, but Charles still cannot bring himself to care. “But maybe-”

Only that he doesn’t get further than that, because Edwin launches himself forward, arms wrapping around Charles’ neck t o pull him down and then Edwin is kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. It’s inelegant, inexperienced, too hard and yet not hard enough, and Charles feels his heart break, feels it mend again, because this is what kissing Edwin should always have been; too much and yet not close to enough.

He kisses back, just a little gentler, one hand coming from resting around Edwin’s ankle to cup his cheek, and for a second, Edwin pulls back to look at him, moss green eyes shining.

Charles takes a breath, just like his mother taught him, deep and steady, just to keep himself from spilling every loving thought he’s ever had into the inch of space between them.

And instead kisses Edwin again.