#Reader looking for answers

[xxwitchylanexx]

Where Our Lineage Lies

Rebirth Retold Chapter 13

Spoilers for Barret's backstory

Masterlist

*~*

The current town of Corel looked like the backwater ghettos of the slums, specifically the side streets of wall market. With heaps of trash on either side of the broken down walkway, the buildings were held together by thick fabric cloths and repurposed bricks from the remnants of the original architecture, and by Odin’s beard the people. Their behavior was appalling and cruel, and were emboldened by the sick laughter after each jeer thrown into Barret’s face. Each metaphorical hit like a knife to his heart in spite of the stone cold facade he presented.

You read about the incident that had befallen Corel while you resided at the Saucer, or at least what Shinra’s narrative was. The texts read that the late mining town harbored ecoterrorists, Avalanche, that had sabotaged the reactor and as punishment Corel had been subjected to the scorched-earth policy under their military contract. As the name implies, Shinra came in and set the whole town on fire, even going as far as open firing on civilians that tried to stop the flames from claiming their homes and loved ones. You knew better, even back then. Shinra didn't care if tore apart the peoples lives, in fact you were almost certain they reveled in it. Though the amount of people who bought into this specific incident baffled you. Why would a town that relies heavily on Shinra’s monetary investment hide criminals that would lead to its downfall?

More importantly, you failed to see the correlation between Shinra’s actions and Barret’s involvement. What could he have done to let his fellow neighbors treat him so abhorrently now? He shut Yuffie down when she tried to retaliate in his name, he even dismissed Cloud’s concerning eye. You knew a self inflicted punishment when you saw it. His fists blanched as they clenched by his side as he accepted their mockery, and his jaw set in stone as cheap booze was poured over his head to rain down onto his leather jacket. or thrown on him. He accepted it all as a badge of shame thinking that if he endure this treatment, if they had someone to blame, maybe just maybe their hardships might elevate even just a fraction it would be worth it. Or maybe he really did think he was the villain.

You watched his self restraint war against his determination until it was hanging by a mere thread the only thing keeping him standing was guilt and a sharp hiss through clenched teeth more to himself than anyone. “I can take it.” And you didn't doubt that for a second. He was the most stubborn, hard headed person you'd ever met-Cloud included, and when he decided what he believed to be right, it takes nothing short of a miracle to change his mind.

Tifa and Yuffie didn't agree in the slightest but did back off like they were told. You could tell Tifa was uncomfortable as she shifted from foot to foot with her head hung low. You couldn't fault her. She was very protective over the brute after all they've been through together.

Guilt was a funny thing really. It was crushing, and depilating yet when you have truly done something unforgivable you either wanted it absolved, seek repentance, or death. You didn’t know his story or how his choices impacted Corel, nor would you pretend to, but if this is what he chose to subject himself to to survive then that’s his decision to make.

Two months ago you wouldn't have had any trouble to watch him endure such abuse, yet now it almost hurts to watch this unflinching man subject himself to it. In some ways you envy your past self. Things were more black and white then. With understanding that not all people who do bad things are evil it really made the way you look at the world more colorful. You hope one day Barret could learn to forgive himself, and in the same breath maybe you could learn to accept your own skeletons.

The revelation that Barret had been married halted that line of thought as the dots began to line up. You always assumed there was a woman at one time sense he has a daughter, but there was never any indication he had been married. The pain written on his face was clear as day. Pure unfiltered sorrow from years of tucking it away to be unpacked later. All of him made sense now. Shinra took his world, and instead of feeling the pain he channeled everything into revenge only to be forced face the past at the scene of the crime to save the future.

You cracked your knuckles to keep your hands from reaching for your sword. You didn't care what happened. You didn't care if he blew up the damn reactor himself it was psychotic to even suggest that he could ever replace his wife. That's just not who Barret Wallace is.

“Sorry, Tifa. Just ignore ‘em.” He murmured with a lowered head to mask his breaking heart his knee buckling under him and into the gravel. He couldn’t fool you though, not when you can see his thick bottom lip trembling like a child. Like just one more word, one more sadistic jeer at his beloved, would tear him up completely. Your eyes stung as you planted your feet more firmly into the ground between the white cracker twink and the crumbling shell of the man who lost everything. Your nostrils flared as your menacing stare cut through flesh and bone of the piece of shit in front of you. He scoffed at first, completely blown away that a woman of all people stood in his way, but he quickly realized that even the intimating soldier to the side gawked in awe as you provided him a safeguard without fighting his battle for him.

The man scrambled backwards as he stuttered unintelligibly. You heard Barret’s heavy stature rise to his feet behind you, and lest he see what you’ve done you shook off the tension and regained an aloof composure. For the sake of your friend you forged forward, it wasn't your fault that you happened to ‘stumble’ into that dick hard enough for him to land on his ass.

You were an magnificent enigma to Cloud. Your perpetual bravery and steadfast loyalty brought out an inner need to be just as strong and devoted. You were the pinnacle of Shiva’s wrath, the stone of Alexander’s fortress, and the warmth of the Phoenix’s heart.

*~*

Compared to the rest of this garbage pile the infirmary exceeded your expectations. The old amber lamps above you hummed above you, the one in the far back corner flickering from time to time, as your boots click clicked against the cracking concrete floor. Motheaten curtains separated the large one room into different sections for patient privacy and a medical testing area. A picture on the wall above the creaking desk that piqued your curiosity. A much younger Barret was in the center with one arm around wrapped around a dark skinned beauty with eyes the color of forest trees in the fading sun. The smile on his face was so happy and proud that your chest squeezed tight.

“The hells gotten into you, man?” You whipped around to see the chaos unfolding. Cloud and Barret stood locked together where Cloud’s sword pushed against the heavy gun grafted to Barret’s arm. A sickly robe groaned whimpered behind the larger man as he dragged his bare feet against the concrete not even reacting when the fragile skin tore and began to bleed leaving drops along the pavement. You studied Cloud for signs of distress taking note of his wide eyes and his free hand clutching at his temple.

Before either could resolve the issue, and you could finish your assessment, a short aged man burst from behind the curtain his arms raised high to appear more intimidating. “What’s going on?” He yelled, the deep wrinkles around his mouth sharpened with each word. His eyes were nearly hidden by the of the flickering light casting a glare across his glasses but the warmth of him shone through the thick lens, unlike the other doctor you’d spent to much time with. His hair was unkept and the short hairs nearly stood straight out of his head like he had a fight with the outlet, but it almost made him more inviting. “Barret Wallace!” Finally, someone who was happy to see a long time friend!

“Doctor Sheiran, its… It’s been awhile.” The strained muscles along his body relaxed, and the charged tension between your two friends ease with the doctor’s appearance.

“Certainly has.” Sheiran examined Barret with such scrutiny, his harsh gaze lingering longer on the obvious weapon. “That’s one frightening-looking appendage you got there…” He trailed off. “but hey- least you still seem to have your health.” The smile returned to his face.

“Yeah… and you too.”

The doc chuckled. “Oh I’m feeling the miles, but the work keeps me trucking. I tell ya what though…” His sentence died in his throat as Tifa wormed her way into his line of sight.

“Do you remember me?” Her voice shook as she asked.

“Well, of course I do, Tifa!” He said it like it was absurd she’d even ask, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he recalled everyone he’s ever treated. “You heal up alright?” His genuine intrigue really completed his caretaker persona.

“I did, yeah. I just wanted to drop by and say thank you. If it wasn't for you… I doubt I’d be standing here today.” Tifa’s shoulders curled inwards and her arms tucked to her sides. Her face felt hollow clearly reminiscent of her near death experience.

“Don’t thank me, thank Lady Luck, and Shinra for that helicopter.”

Her head snapped up in shock. “I’m sorry, Shinra?” The very mention was thick on her tongue.

“I know you might find it hard to believe, but not all the apples in that bunch’re rotten.” Barret scoffed, but Tifa nodded along hesitantly. “But seriously- you’re living proof of the good in people. Don’t ever forget that. It’d be a pity to let their kindness go to waste.”

“Yeah.” The word lacked any real emotion.

“Besides you need to set a good example for your friends here.” You nodded along for the sake of agreement, but darkness lurks in the depths of humankinds souls and in a world controlled by greed and selfishness it shows its heads far to often. After all you're the product of that corruption. “Right. While I got ya, mind helping me out? Need to draw that gentleman’s blood.” He jutted his head in the direction of the man Cloud nearly took out. “Ya think ya could hold him still for me?”

Barret mumbled something your ears couldn’t pick up over the distance but complied all the same. He stalked over and wrapped his the man tight around the arms. Barret’s strength far surpassing the robe’s thrashing as the doc inserted the needle. “At first, I thought it was just mako poisoning…” He started to say as he flipped the cap over the needle and chucked it into the bin on the floor. “That is, until I ran some tests. The results were… strange.” The blue tourniquet snapped free from the man’s arm and the doc quickly placed a band aid over the it.

“Strange how?” Cloud asked from his spot alongside the wall.

“A substance turned up- one I’ve never seen before.” He said as he scurried away to the warn desk on the other side of the curtain and slotted the test tube next to other ones in the holder. “Not sure what to make of it yet, but it did remind me of one I have seen.” His eyes lit up for a second before he walked over to Cloud. “Your eyes. Soldier, right?”

“Ex-soldier.” He answered in his usual bravado, his arms crossing over his chest to keep the man at arms length.

“It’s not a job, son. Once a soldier always a soldier. Spare a drop?”

“No.” Cloud’s voice was sharp and cold.

Sheiran held his hands up in mock surrender. “I ask cause I suspect they’re soldiers suffering from cellular degradation.” Wait… what? You looked to Cloud, only noticing that he didn’t seem as surprised as you. Barret, too looked to him for clarification. “Just a theory for now. And one I can’t prove- not without more testing.”

It’s not surprising there'd be consequences to being genetically altered, but fate seemed to be crueler than normal. All the tiny headaches you’ve seen him grunt about, or the bridge, or hell just seven minutes ago- was it all happening because he was degrading? Would he eventually turn into one of these robed that wandered aimlessly with no true soul? Youve only just submitted to this kinda sorta relationship was he really just destined to slip from your fingers?

What would happen to your genetic makeup? You grew in submerged capsule in one of Midgar’s reactors did that mean you could also degrade or did only soldiers contain this mystery substance that caused this plague? Could the foreign body be passed on to any offspring?

Even after everyone else left the building that pesky voice of intuition was clawing through your head keeping your feet rooted in place. “Doctor Sheiran?” You called out.

“Sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you hadn’t left.”

“Sorry. I just-” You bit your bottom lip, unsure if you even wanted the answers. “Could this affliction be passed down to a child, so to speak?”

His fingers came up to rub at his chin before he finally came to a conclusion. “I’m afraid there’s no way of knowing without further testing I'm afraid I cant be certain, but if the subject was altered on a cellular level it could be possible.”

Your mouth ran dry as you swallowed thickly. “Could you tell if you had a sample to examine?”

“Are you offering?” His eyes held that knowing suspicion.

You opened your mouth then closed it. Instead of gracing him with an answer you extending your arm to him as an offering. The likelihood of it being reality was slim to none, but you knew. “I don’t know when I can come back for the results.”

He prepared a sterile needle and another test tube, his hand wrapped around a marker to write the details on the vial. “Don’t you worry. I’ll store them in your chart. What’s was your name again, dear?”

“Andromeda Eryn.” A name you thought you’d left behind in the sterile walls of the inner Shinra lab, yet here you were wielding the name of your exploited mother. The snap of the blue band released after he got what he needed. You walked to the door quickly to rejoin the others before they noticed you missing, but you paused as you moved to open the door. “Also…” you looked back to where the doc was still writing down notes. “If a robed guy with an 88 tattoo shows up, can you do a paternity test?” The resemblances between you and 88 were as clear as day in your mind. All the features that you laid in bed wondering where you've inherited them all the while staring at your mother’s portrait. Fate surely is cruel.

*~*

You sat wedged between Cloud and Aerith as the sky wheel journeying across the canyon to the Gold Saucer. The mood was sour, and hearts full of sorrow after hearing about Barret’s past. All those people are sooo angry at him, yet none of it was his fault. He only wanted better for his family and his fellow townsfolk yet the blame him for something they too agreed with. And what’s with the spineless mayor? Wasn’t he the one with the final say?

All that pain that should have been shared with each other, to connect and rebuild, was pushed to the a man that only had dreams of security and a hopeful future.

You’re happy to leave the remnants of that fantasy behind in the wreckage and usher in a new dream to the beat of the booming cheerful fireworks welcoming you 'home'.

[allimili]

https://www.tumblr.com/allimili/775822310068322304/i-love-the-way-you-draw-the-cookies-popping-their?source=share

Different anon and I can't help but imagine that the cookies always magically fix their phone because they love them so much...or magically enchanted the phone.

extra:

[hadaldemon]

Different Anon) I grab his octo head and hugs him I kiss him and say “goo’night” Cuz jghgughggh I need a sleep buddy cuz my sleep schedule is shit XD

yeah, nowadays, who can say that they have a healthy sleep schedule? definitely not me either.

Specially if you get pestered by some living body-less head with wacky powers demanding his "kiss tax" in the middle of the night like in the case of y/n cookie.

Not what he expected but he will take what he can... for now.

... okay maybe this looks a bit weird

previous part (part 1):

A pair of lil bonuses down below, no warnings needed i guess

Bonus 1

"I'm their sleep buddy now, old rag!"

bet he is petty like that

Bonus 2

He would kick anyone's a$$, he would kick the witches' a$$es, heck, he would even kick his own a$$ if they dare to interrupt his cuddle time with y/n

Next part (part 3):

[justladders]

You’re bundled up in the only blanket you own, but it does nothing for the biting winter cold.

But, mid-shiver, you hear soft, hearty footsteps approaching, and you smile. Without needing to look, you already give thanks before Springtrap lays beside you and wraps you both together in layers of thick sheets.

You never felt so warm cuddling against the big, tender rabbit. 💕

[323cutie]

thinking about face sitting with the strength / manhandling kink line (yunho, san, mingi, jongho) and losing my mind rn

oh now this...

yunho will be the first to admit that he's not even that much stronger than you. but you let him push and pull and maneuver you wherever he wants -- and often that's right on his face. on the bed, face between your thighs as he makes you squirm, looking up at you with the most pleading puppy eyes you've ever seen. he can't really talk like this, and maybe that's for the best... but he can make use of his mouth in other ways.

san has the idea first. he's practically begging you to sit on his face one it comes to mind, and who are you to deny him? he lays on the edge of the bed with his head hanging off and pulls you to him, not giving you any time before he's diving in. moaning just as much as you, gripping your body any way he can to pull you closer to him, almost getting you to fully sit on his face (almost, because as much as he loves eating you out, he's not really fond of the idea of a broken neck).

it's spur of the moment with mingi. really! it's supposed to just be a romantic shower together... you should've seen it coming, though. he sinks down to his knees and slots himself in between your legs before you can even really think about it, lifting one of your legs up onto his shoulder and pulling you close. he's louder than you, so eager to please, eyes staring you down as he starts to push and pull your hips for you until you get a good rhythm on his face.

jongho doesn't really see the point in it until it happens. he can make you feel good laying down, so it doesn't really matter to him -- that is, until he realizes how pliant you are for him. you're easy to move when you're writhing over him, hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. and he sets the pace for you -- grabbing your thighs and ass to rock you back and forth on his face, perfectly content to act as your seat.

[spaceyaemonds]

Have you ever seen modern family ? Cuz I need McKay’s kid to recreate the scene where Luke says Gloria used to dig coal with abbots baby mama

hi friend!!!

LOL screaming!!!!!! this is such a funny idea!!! so i had to go rewatch the scene, but i came up with a lil something!!!

you’re sitting in the staff lounge with bug asleep in her wrap against your chest when dr. mckay walks in with her son.

“oh, sorry. i didn’t realize anyone would be in here,”

you don’t know dr. mckay very well, but she’s always kind to you.

you smile softly, “no worries, just waiting on jack.”

her son glances up at her, “who’s jack?”

she laughs awkwardly, “dr. abbot,”

he nods, glancing back over at you.

“do you mind if he just sits in here a few minutes? my dad is on his way,” she glances awkwardly down at her watch. she’s probably late for rounds.

“no worries.” she smiles brightly at you.

“great! thank you so much.”

you drift off in thought as she gets him situated and goes to make herself a cup of coffee.

“you’re married to dr. abbot?”

harrison’s voice pulls you from your train of thought.

“oh, no. not married,”

he looks at you, brows furrowed before glancing towards his mom.

when he looks back at you, he looks like he’s trying to build the courage to ask you something.

finally, he does.

“you don’t look like you dig for coal?”

your brow furrows and you hear cassie choke on her coffee, coughing loud enough to startle the baby.

jack walks in right at that moment, glancing between you, harrison, cassie, and then his crying baby.

“dr. abbot?”

he looks over at harrison, “yeah kid?”

“she doesn’t look like a coal digger?”

cassie wants the ground to swallow her whole once she makes eye contact with jack.

[inkbybambi]

you're always the consolation prize.

it hurts, an ache between your ribs that never truly goes away; a new crack that heals uncomfortably in your bones, in your soul. you're of no use as the priority, so you've resigned yourself to being second (or third, or fourth) best every time they call for you.

you see them smiling at each other, a quirk to their lips that call to a certain kind of fondness; there's a sparkle in their eyes that always dulls when their attention turns to you. resigned themselves, almost.

you don't know why you stay.

they've never given you a reason to.

[becca-e-barnes]

no one writes subby Bucky like you do<33

Thank you so much!! 🥰 Little asks like this really remind me to come back to writing the things I love

I've recently been loving the thought of submissive men who just can't last, I swear it's so delicious

Like imagine how it would feel, watching Bucky play with himself for you. He's so worked up, he needs a some stimulation but that man knows his limits. He knows he can't think too much about the fact you're standing there watching or it will all be over faster than either of you would like.

"I bet that feels good." You tease, watching the stunning man in front of you provide himself a little relief. He's stroking himself with a firm grip but a slow enough pace, drinking in the sight of you in your pretty blue lace.

He needs this. His dick throbbing in his own hand reminds him of that. The bead of precum at his tip threatens to drip over the head and roll down his shaft and you find yourself hoping it will.

"Feels really nice." He nods, trying not to give in to the temptation to work himself any faster.

"Great. I want you to keep going." You watch him as you settle on your knees between his legs.

Your lips wrap around his tip while his hand strokes the rest of his shaft and there's nothing you can do but squirm at the moan you earn from him.

You lap at that delightfully slick precum, letting the taste of him linger on your tongue. You want more. Nothing is ever enough with him. He fills you with a longing that's never truly satisfied and you love that.

For just a few moments, you remove your mouth from his tip, choosing instead to cup and gently suck on his balls. He likes a little attention there and you're more than keen to provide it.

"Oh fuck." He groans, his head flopped backwards. "Please don't stop. Please keep going. Oh God, please."

He's so damn pretty when he begs like that. You'd give him the world if those plump lips begged you for it.

It's sexy to know how badly he needs you. He craves you so intensely and you feel it without him having to tell you explicitly.

"Shit, that's too good." He moans, looking down at your pretty face between his legs and before he can stop himself, he feels the familiar gush up through his shaft, his balls tightening and he watches as he paints your face with his load.

He seems to cum endlessly, hot splashes of cum landing on your skin in heavy spurts and there's something so thrilling about knowing he just couldn't have prevented it.

He doesn't even get the chance to feel embarrassed about finishing too soon. Not when he notices your hand slipped under your pretty lace panties, enjoying the knowledge your face is covered in his release.

[larcenywrites]

how do creed/logan act if they find out their partner is expecting?

Tbh I think they would know even before their partner 😅 super senses and all, yk? So I went with that angle! It’s nothing special, but I could always do something more fleshed out for each one later on. Maybe like how I did my Tony Stark family stuff 🤔

Reactions to Pregnancy

Logan Howlett x Reader

Victor Creed x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy mentions obviously | like two sexual references but they’re more on the mild side

Logan

Terrified. He probably picks up on it before even you, or, at least, before you tell him, but tbh he might be the one to tell you 😅 that nose never lies, but pregnancy probably still doesn’t really cross his mind at first… it’s when he suddenly hears an extra heartbeat nearby, and a rapid one at that, that he actually has to connect the dots. And yet, he still won’t bring it up! He’s nervous, a little more tense than usual, but for now he’s probably choosing to, ah… not ignore it per se? Maybe he’s trying to come to terms with it himself before you find out… by ignoring it!

But he can’t ignore it anyway because now when hears you trying to sneak up on him from behind, it’s not just you anymore. It’s quite literally following him around and keeping him up at night, and maybe hearing a quick pulse naturally puts him on edge anyway. He’s probably damn near falling apart! Is he terrified? Yes. Anxious? Yes. Low key wondering how he could let this happen?? Kinda! But then again, he is the one who ditches the condom like once a month in favor of his little kink… He was already beating himself up a little about being a terrible choice for a father, but now he’s really cursing himself because he of all people should know actions have consequences!!!

Not to mention: What if he passes on his mutation?? Shit, there might be yet another genetically perfect killer on the loose soon!

With a sigh, he finds himself tapping a finger or two on your lower tummy in thought. He knows that, regardless, he’s doing everything he can to keep you- both of you- safe. And all this stress ain’t for nothing— in fact, it’s already made him a little attached to that unnamed heartbeat!

You’re probably not gonna notice too much difference in his usual behavior other than he seems more tense and unfocused lately. He always tends to be the big spoon, he usually ends a day with rubs and nuzzles, he’s always tuned in to what you’re doing— what will be different though is him being more reluctant to leave for missions (probably a little huffy about it even), and a whole lot more cuddlier than usual the night before! And in the case that you’re a fellow x-men, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to keep an eye on you, but it is definitely weird for him to challenge the set plan just to stay by your side, and the pot is finally boiling over when he starts telling you that you can’t come on missions altogether… which probably leads to everybody arguing! Hell, you may still not even know you’re pregnant at this point, but Logan has to say it because otherwise he’s really looking like the bad guy here!

Minus the fifty questions you probably have for him, he is relieved that this whole pregnancy thing isn’t just on his shoulders now. But now that you do know, he’s definitely relieved that he can be a little more affectionate without being questioned! At some point he definitely ended up nuzzling under your shirt and has decided to just lie there for probably the rest of the evening with his very tiny baby 🥰

And come on, Logan loves the students! Even if it is in his own grumpy way! He really shouldn’t be so worried about being dad material 😘

Victor

Again, he probably picks up on it before you do, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows what he’s sensing! But what he does know is that you smell delightful, and all he finds himself doing that night he first notices is rubbing against your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. It’s easy to just laugh off his spontaneous cat-like affections, and even easier to succumb to the licking and nipping without much thought 😘

It’s rather late one night when he’s coming home, and while he always aware of each pulse that should normally be around, there’s definitely a new one… He probably thinks it’s a rat that got in the wall or something at first! Now on the hunt and prowling around, he’s a tad confused when he’s led to your sleeping form in the bed. Just as his nose never lies, neither does his hearing! He’s not dumb, he knew exactly what it meant as soon as he made it to the bed.

Eh, honestly he’s probably more surprised it hasn’t happened sooner 😅 He’s probably wildly inconsistent with protection, definitely has a breeding kink anyway, and has probably taken the condom off without you even noticing before… Even so, he still definitely didn’t plan it! Well- probably.

Still flopped over you with a big ol arm over your waist and nuzzling into your neck, he’s probably purring way more than you’ve ever heard him purr before. Enough to wake you up at 4 in the morning! You’ll have to lift his big ol head from your chest to get his attention, and he’ll just outright tell you! He’s one of the best trackers in the world, so there’s no reason to doubt him… that and it’s not every occasion that you’ll see him kneading happily at the blankets!

Ah- maybe he has done… questionable things, both when it comes to family and not-family… But, really, there's no need to worry! This hellcat is quite fond of kids, so while you may be a little anxious over the sudden news, Victor is unfazed enough for the both of you! Besides, he’s more than capable of keeping both you and a kid safe, and he’s had plenty of challenges in his 200+ years, surely he can handle raising a kid. Plus, he has a kid or two out there that he didn’t raise himself, so he’s probably pretty excited about this one ;3 But he does kinda hope he passes down his mutation…

The only downside as far as behavior goes is he’s now ultra protective and nosey (not that you could ever hide anything from him anyway), and now he’s dragging home tons of trinkets and jewelry and blankets and maybe even an entire turkey one time 😅

[averycutesalamander]

pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT

ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao

may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.

In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.

And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.

The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)

(Right?)

Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.

(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)

His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-

...and crumbles.

He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.

It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-

He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.

It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.

He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.

He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.

"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."

(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)

He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.

He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.

(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)

(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)

(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)

(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)

Something gives, eventually.

When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.

Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.

Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.

After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.

"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."

Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.

Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.

You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.

There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.

Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.

Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.

Never in your life have you seen him this manic.

His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.

For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.

Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.

You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"

(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)

He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.

Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.

"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."

You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.

"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."

He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.

(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)

(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)

When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.

Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)

Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.

"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."

(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)

(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)

He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.

By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.

For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.

Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.

(And you're all his, now.)

His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)

He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.

His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.

(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)

A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.

(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)

As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.

When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.

"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.

When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

(He's barely sorry.)

"I don't like it either, but..."

(Yes, he does.)

"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"

(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)

(He could. He should.)

(He won't.)

[ssentimentals]

Hello can i get number 6 from the prompt with S.Coups after having an argument. Thanks 🩷

hi, honey!💜 thanks for the request, hopefully you will like it!

6. kiss of a falling tear (choi seungcheol)

when you voice wavers seungcheol knows he lost. and not in way like this is some stupid contest with winners and losers, but lost in a way of losing all will to go on with this argument. he hates them in the first place, but they are inevitable especially at the start of any relationships, so he sucks it up and tries to push through as gently as he can; which he's obviously not succeeding at, judging by your broken expression. what seungcheol hates the most about arguments is how they strip him down to his insecurities, the ones he's not ready to show to anyone and the ones he very much wants to hide from you. but you are you and even under few months you got under his skin so deep that being in the room with you and your tear filled eyes makes him want to swing himself to the wall.

'babe,' he calls in a tired voice because he is tired and this should end now, fuck, he can't stand seeing you like this. 'come here.'

you sniffle and his heart aches at this sound. uncertain, you take few steps towards him, stopping right at the arm length. 'you don't have to be like this with me,' you whisper, rubbing at your eyes. 'i'm- i'm not like them.'

seungcheol nods, ruffling his hair. he knows, he knows. he knows it all but sometimes it's so hard to act exactly the way he thinks is right, the way he knows is right. old habits die hard. 'i'm sorry, sweets.' he says instead, slowly reaching out for you. 'i really am. come to me, please?'

he needs to have you close or seungcheol fears he might break down. you wait for few moments during which his heart doesn't beat but then take his hand and let yourself fall into his arms, silently crying. knowing that he's the reason of your tears hurts seungcheol more than he can explain because it's so wrong - he's supposed to only bring you joy and happiness, not tears. taking a hold of your chin, he gently makes you lift your head and kisses away your tears, stopping right at your eyelids. 'i'm sorry,' he repeats, kissing your tear striken eyes. 'i'm so sorry, my love. it won't happen again, okay? i promise. it won't.'

[pricetagged]

All of the 141 collectively shed a tear when craigslist personals was shut down.

I just know that Captain John Price was frequently perusing the 'w4m seeking sperm donor 4 natural conception' posts :/

[allimili]

We saw how big shadow milk hand are compared to use but what about mystic flower and burning spice?

Let me demonstrate.

[hadaldemon]

!!not a req!!

saw your shadow tako form and i thought it was a really cool idea!

but now i cant stop thinking about waking up in the middle of the night and looking up just to see shadow milk cookies head just staring at you from your ceiling. scary stuff😰

oh hey! I'm really glad you liked the shadow tako thingy! :D

Also, that thought you had I really liked it and I really like creepy/scary stuff, it gave me an idea ehehe.

I know this is not a request and I don't take requests but I wanna draw this so... hope you don't mind that I made some panels where I'm trying to illustrate the "vision" I had with what u have commented.

tw: unsettling(?), creepy(?)

edit: oh goodness, was this too ugly? was this too much?... too bad, i kinda want to make more

edit 2: it seems that this has a next partt now (part 2)

[hai7ani]

also applies to Chifuyu & Shinichiro.......i think

It's late but I can't seem to think about anything other than the boyfriends who smell a lot like you. I think this applies very well to Rindou like. You're just together so often. His friends have already registered the smell as his own, and even though he sprays on his cologne before he leaves he still manages to smell like you for the rest of the day somehow.

A few have asked what his cologne or perfume is and he says the brand and then they go and compare it in-store but it legit smells nothing like him at all. Around his circle of friends he is notoriously known as the perfume gatekeeper and he doesn't understand it at all 一 has no clue what the big deal is around his perfume, because that's literally the brand he uses, what the hell more do you want from him? Not his fault the in-store oxidised-or-whatever samples don't smell like him. (He literally doesn't smell you on him because he's so used to it already. Like cat owners not knowing how their home smells like to a stranger. Yeah. You're the cat and he's the owner in this case.)

His friends can't quite place and recognise what exactly the smell is 一 especially the people he just met, and it always surprises them a little somehow during first impressions. It's just not very........common for a guy to smell like this. Especially not for a guy who looks like him 一 tall, tatted up, and eyes so fierce it could possibly kill 一 to smell a lot like flowers and bedsheets. The kinda scent that makes you feel at ease and you just want to fall asleep. A comforting one.

And I think that kind of explains why the elderly love speaking to him. Young kids like going up to him for help. The ladies holding their babies likes asking him to help with their stroller. All of that happens regularly despite the tattoos and chunky rings and dyed hair. He often wonders what the hell's so alluring about him that always attracts all these people in public especially when he's alone, but he does find himself doing kind, mundane things for them way too frequently. Not a single complaint on his mind, but just a thought. His girlfriend is usually the magnet attracting people all the time 一 he's more of the dog you'd walk when alone at night. But honestly it's just really his distinct smell from the rest that immediately makes him a safe zone to approach, but he doesn't know that of course.

Shion was over at his place one time to hide from the rain after dinner and he wasn't aware that anyone was home other than him and Rindou alone. The familiar scent of his friend suddenly lingers around in the air and he's quick to ask. "Yo, you got any beer in your fridge? I'm kinda thirsty." He doesn't look up from his phone the entire time 一 they're best buddies, he's been over a few times, and he just really wants something to drink.

A while later, a can of ice cold beer appears in his view next to his device and he grabs it swiftly. "Thanks."

And then he sees long nails and bracelets and fingers a lot more nimbler than his friend's一

Suddenly the smell of fresh flowers 一 something pretty famous from Armani, he recalls 一 floods his nostrils all at once and his brain short circuits. His friend fucking smells like you 一 your scent is just a lot more stronger and distinguishable.

"You're welcome." You have a nice smile on your face while he looks up in horror. "He's in the toilet by the way." You point to the door behind you.

"Oh. My bad."

[ddarker-dreams]

Do you think Sunday would stay a yandere after his transformation? Like, if he was a yandere with reader before Penacony's main story, and then he became current Sunday, would his relationship with reader change for the better or the worse?

a very interesting question...

sunday isn't the type to make a clean break from the past. he ruminates on it, questions where he went wrong, what he could have done better. he'd eventually conclude that maybe he was a bit overzealous in clipping your wings. there's not much remorse on his part. he's critical of himself, yes, but for the wrong reasons. he believes he should've been craftier about it. he'll acknowledge that his primary reason for isolating you was his own gratification. while he didn't revel in your grief, there's no denying how good it felt being your sole provider.

he'd still tag along with the astral express crew and go about his journey of self-discovery. he'll be on his best behavior, doing and saying the right things to convey he's a changed man, nothing like the megalomaniac he once was. meanwhile, you go about reintegrating into society. it isn't easy, but knowing sunday's under the 'surveillance' of well-adjusted people like welt and himeko soothes some paranoia.

you'll think you left that nightmare in the past until one day, you receive an invite for lunch. you recognize the immaculate handwriting and persuasive word choice. sunday claims that he seeks to make amends. he understands if you want nothing to do with him yet hopes you'll let him apologize.

no matter what you decide, his mind is set. he never makes the same mistake twice. this time, he decides, subtly is the key.