#coughing out blood and absolute chaos

[lolo-chi]

Choi Jung Soo wtf (ily)

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Medieval knight!Jason Todd who's a long-lost son of the Wayne earldom. He took up a crusade when he was younger but was believed to be dead. Only to reveal himself several years later during the swordsmanship tournament hosted by Wayne family. Just as Dick was lying in the sand coughing up blood next to his discarded sword, his unknown challenger took off his scarlet helmet and the entire court erupted in chaos.

That was years ago now. Since then, Sir Todd made amends with his family, but they are by no means close. Jason managed to gain a title and a fief on his own, independent of his family and he takes no small pride in that. These days he and his merry group of loyal warriors take up mercenary work and guardianship if the person has enough coin.

When the local baron hired him to be a personal guard for his daughter, Jason was sure that would be an easy job for a good amount of gold. The red knight soon found out that being your bodyguard is not as easy as he thought. You were quite the escape artist. Whenever a banquet or an audience was too boring for your liking, you simply vanished, and Jason had to search for you high and low to drag you back. It made him grind his jaw and caused his temper to flare more than once.

You were thrilled and appalled that someone spoke to you so crassly and brazenly. Other soldiers your father assigned to you treated you with the utmost respect and gave up after a few months. Not the red knight. He proved himself to be just as stubborn as you, if not more. At this point, it wasn't about money anymore. He just couldn't stand the thought of some spoiled daughter of a noble getting the better of him. Jason had no qualms about throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you back to the castle, while the plate of his armor dug uncomfortably into your stomach.

After six months of this, Jason was fed up with your nonsense and was ready to collect his gold and disappear for good. You were hiding from the baroness, some nonsense about dress fitting or a dance lesson. Jason was just returning from the training grounds when he saw you sitting on the ground near the barn, playing with a fresh litter of kittens. You knew the cat and the kittens well, and judging how other animals treated you it wasn't your first time there. You met his gaze and winked at him, placing a finger to your lips. Your first shared secret.

After that day, your personal guard Jason somehow became your partner in crime. He looked the other way sometimes or followed in a safe distance. You fascinated him, and somehow, before he even knew it, he started to fall for you. He wanted to deny it. Jason reminded himself time and time again why it was a horrible idea. However, he couldn't keep himself from falling more and more for you.

Another day, another one of your daring escapes. This time was, different, though. You took some of your belongings and your horse while leaving a letter to say your goodbyes. Jason did not care for exploring the feelings of absolute horror that grasped his heart at the thought of you disappearing from his life. He immediately set out to search for you. You couldn't escape too far and he knew where to go. He knew you better than anyone.

When he caught up with you, you were residing in a tavern in a small cozy village near the edge of your father's land. You were always annoyed and scathing whenever he came to bring you back home, but this time, you were just sad, almost tearful. Jason demanded an explanation for your unusual disappearance, and the one he received almost made him shatter the pitcher in his hand. The courting season was swiftly approaching.

He knew of your fear and unwillingness to get pawned off for alliance and title. He was also aware that your parents were adamant in marrying you off before grow out of marrigable age.

Which is why your loyal guardian made you an offer. You stay in the village for its upcoming festival, relishing in last days of freedom without responsibility, before returning home. This offer served not only you, but Jason as well. He wanted to revel in your presence before returning to your old life where he was the knight and you were the noble.

In hinsight, he should've realized that was a mistake, because in these last few days he became aware of how smitten he'd become. It was all too easy to forget his duties when you were pretending to be a simple village girl.

You peroused the stalls, gawking at everything you saw and chatting his ear off. He watched you trying to eat the commoner food with your bare hands, hilariously failing. When they arrived in the square where the dance was held, you haven't hesitated before grabbing his hand and pulling him for a dance. Jason wanted to protest, but your bright smile convinced him. He twirled you amongst the townsfolk before he noticed familiar faces heading your way. The baron's soldiers, no doubt they were looking for you.

Quicker than you could react, Jason pulled you into a darkened corner, covering your body with his, pressing your lips together. He kissed you until he knew the guards were gone. He pulled away to apologize but before he could say anything you grabbed him by the lapels of his cloak and pressed your lips together again. You kissed him with sweetness and desperation that stole breath from his lungs, and Jason had no choice but to melt into you. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you impossibly close to him, your hands slipped from his cheeks to his hair.

He indulged little longer before letting voice of reason win, pulling away. Jason reminded you that you shouldn't be doing this, reminded you of your respective postitions. You didn't listened, instead, you uttered words Jason both wished and dreaded to hear.

You loved him.

He asked of you to never say these words to him again, and without another word he took your hand and led you back home as he tried to ignore your quiet sobs.

Despite your promises, he catches you trying to climb out over one of the garden walls during your courting ball. Jason wanted to strangle you, not that he enjoyed watching you dance with all those idiot nobles while all he wanted to do was to take you and carry you somewhere where there only be the two of you. This can't go on much longer, he has to end things tonight. Jason takes on a quest, to slay creatures in the southern forest. Surely you'll understand eventually...that the distance is good for both of you.

Months go by, and the pain the red knight felt when leaving you felt bearable. The other soldiers in his unit were curious as to why the infamous red knight left such prestigious position. Some speculated it was because the position was too peaceful and the dead son of Wayne was hungry for blood. If only they knew the true reason he left, but it was for the better. No one needs to know. One day, a messenger arrived, bearing a letter that stated there was an attack on the baron's family. The baron and his wife were badly injured and you were missing.

How was this possible?! You were supposed to be safe here! Without missing even a single second, Jason rode his horse tirelessly to the city. He will find you, and whoever took you will pay for every scratch he finds on you with their life. When he rescues you from your kidnappers, you're barely conscious. Gently, he pics up your weakened body and carefully carries you over the dead bodies lying everywhere. When he brings you back home, as he always done, he is adamant to never leave your side, no matter what takes. With heart full of determination, he asks, no, demands your hand in marriage. His name, his fief, his sword and his hearth, all of it is yours.

The baron is wise enough to give Sir Jason his blessings. After all, who's better for his daughter than a man who is able to set the world ablaze to safe her?

Art: Crown; Katerina Kirillova

Tags: @thinkingofausername, @fir3flytv, @ivysangel, @cherrrysstuff, @xxgoblin-dumplingxx, @mostly-imagines , @applejuicebegood

[monamipencil]

── 𝗠𝗥. 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗥𝗦. 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡 ft. jeonghan

⛧synopsis; an intrusion, a couple, a murder and a twist. — second fic of lola's spooktober

⛧ pairings; husband! jeonghan x fem! reader ⛧ genre; smut, gore, horror ⛧ w.c; 4.1k+ ⛧ warnings; hybristophilia, body worship, blood, murder/death, description of corpse, sex on the dining table lmao, HORNY fucking, unprotected sex, oral (f.receiving) creampie, allusions to cults, devil worship, etc etc. mentions of food ⛧ a/n; *clears thorat* *coughs* im so sorry for the delay lmao, i was absolutely not motivated to write. but anyways, enjoy!!

READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION ⛧ MDNI

[ 07th October, 2024 ]

Thunder crackles, and lightning strikes. The heavy rain pitter-patters on the windows and roofs. Water flows, flooding the streets, making them inhabitable to unlucky strays. Chaos brews outside, and you observe it from within the safety of your home. 

A ‘meow’ shifts your attention. You smile at the cat you rescued from the storm and rub its head. It meows again and shuffles to the living room, black fur disappearing behind the couch. 

“-And everyone is requested to stay at home or take shelter till further notifications. Police’s investigation into the recent murders have been halted due to the storm. We request everyone to stay sa—”

The television cuts off and comes alive again, buzzing and glitching.  You turn it off with a sigh. Except for the pitter-patter of the rain, your home is silent. The silence lays heavy on the walls and floors. You can’t seem to fill it no matter what. Your hand involuntarily touches the pendant your husband gifted you. Muttering a prayer to Him, you ask for Jeonghan's safe return to you. 

[ ... ]

The gentle sizzle of the vegetables fills your ears, and you pour water into the vessel, turning down the flame. 

Your newly adopted cat nuzzles between your legs, purring with content at the warmth. You smile and coo at it. But before you can adore it further, the doorbell rings.

You wipe your hands, contemplating whether or not to attend it. It couldn't be Jeonghan. You sigh and walk to the door. The black furball stays in the kitchen, observing you with its yellow eyes.

Looking through the peephole, you see someone shivering from the cold and absolutely drenched. Your hands fly to unlock the door, and the person is startled at the force you open it.

“Come in, please!” you move from his way. He nods his head with gratitude and walks in weakly.

Quickly shutting the door, you lock it. The stranger turns to see you secure the array of locks on the door. You greet him with a smile. He smiles back.

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologizes, but you assure him and welcome him into your home. “Oh no, It's fine. I don't mind some company.”

He removes his drenched coat and hangs it on the coat hanger. While doing so, he notices another coat on it. “Is it just you at home, miss?”

“Mrs.” You correct him and reply, “Yes, my husband is out of town for business.”

He also removes his shoes and places them near the door, noticing another pair of shoes. “May I ask you why you are out in such a storm?”

“Ah, I turned up for work and my friend who was supposed to pick me didn't turn up.”

You give him an apologetic nod and gesture towards your living room. “Please make yourself at home. I'll quickly put together a warm soup for you.”

He tries to protest, but you reason with him and disappear into the kitchen. He sits on the sofa with a sigh and thanks God for helping him at the right time.

The low purr of a cat catches his attention. A black cat sits in the middle of the living room. It stares at him, and he awkwardly smiles at it and tries to distract himself. It leaves eventually.

The interior of your home mesmerizes him, reminding him of those vintage homes. The teal wallpapers and the antique decors mesh well together and create a homely look. The myriad of pictures on the wall near the kitchen intrigues him.

He walks towards it and observes each photo. He sees you in all of the frames, along with a man whom he deduces to be your husband. He sees all types of pictures, varying from road trips to studio ones.

“Is your husband a celebrity by any chance, Mrs. Yoon?” He inquires after seeing a frame with the writing, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Yoon.’ A vague feeling of familiarity brews in him the more he looks at your husband.

“Ah, no, no. He's devilishly handsome and he could be a great actor but he only does business.” You voice from within the kitchen, but his mind drains you out. He's more fixated on the pictures, unable to shake the feeling.

He doesn't say anything after that, but you don't mind the silence. Quietly humming, you put together the soup. You smile to yourself, thinking of your husband. If he had been here, he'd be behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he peppers kisses on your neck.

Your daydream feels almost real as you feel a presence behind you. Chuckling, you shake your head and move to grab a bowl. But before you could, a voice shouts behind you.

“Did you kill him?!” The stranger yells, anger surging through his voice. Confusion strikes you, “What do you mean?”

You try to distance yourself from him and grab a knife. His hand catches your wrist harshly, and you cry out. Acting on your instincts, you fling the pot of soup at him. He yelps as the hot liquid makes contact with his skin.

With him muttering a plethora of curses, you run out of the kitchen. The cat observes the chaos, slowly wagging its tail. The stranger blindly moves to the sink and splashes water on his face to wash off the soup.

After gaining composure, he trudges out of the kitchen with a meat knife. He checks every door and room, eyes darting to all corners to find you. His skin stings and burns painfully. He winces but doesn't let it deter him.

The floor creaks beneath his foot, and he doesn't care if it alerts you. He wants you to know where he is, to be afraid of him. He wants to make you feel fear.

A smirk pulls his lips when he notices the basement door open. He stands in front of it, observing the steep set of stairs. As he descends down, a foul stench hits him, and he covers his nose.

He struggles to find the light switch and crashes into a few things. The stench is unbearable, and he cringes. After finally finding the switch, he turns it on.

Light illuminates the room, but some things are better hidden in the dark, like the dead guy tied to the wall. He can't find it in himself to scream or even utter a word. The only noise that escapes him is a gasp.

His horror intensifies when he recognizes it as his friend. “You fucking bitch! You killed him!” 

But it seems that there are far graver things than his dead friend. The red pentagram etched on the ground makes his skin crawl. A turn of his head also reveals a board pinned with a map that has pictures of people pinned on several locations.

His heart stops beating when he finds his own picture on it.

A noise from the cupboard pulls him out of his trance, and he stalks to it. Yanking the door open, he finds you there, cowering in fear. You push him off you and run away from him. But there's no way out with him standing directly in front of the stairs.

He runs to you, pinning you to the wall. “You bitch!” Then, he cackles, “Aww, can't run anywhere now?” His grip tightens, and dread fills your gut. He leans in closer, “You're going to be so sorry for what you did when I gut you.” 

You flinch and shut your eyes. The sound of a stab echoes through the room, but you don't feel any pain.

A heavy thud echoes through the room, followed by the sound of a body falling on the floor. Warm blood dots on your face, and some stain the cotton of your slip. You gasp and shudder, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. Your eyes land on the injured body. Blood flows from his mouth and his chest. Three holes punctured through his chest.  

You don’t need to look at him to figure out who your savior is. “Jeonghan!” you cry, throwing your arms around him. The garden fork he yields in his hands meets the floor as he hurries to take you in his embrace. 

Your lips are on his instantly, kissing him with ardor. He matches your passion, both his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him. You curl your arms around his neck, lost in the warmth of his lips. It isn’t long before his tongue prods your lips, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

His tongue glides over yours like it has countless other times. He shifts his head to gain a better angle and kisses you deeper. One of your hands uncurls to caress his face—his flawless skin, his high cheekbones, the bone of his jaw before it slides down further. You glide your hand over his shoulders, his lean biceps, and finally his crotch. 

Jeonghan pulls away, out of breath and overjoyed. You mirror his grin when you find him rock-hard beneath his slacks. “Oh, how I missed seeing you kill,” you finish with a giggle. 

With a playful roll to his eyes, he retorts, “it’s been barely four days since I did it.” 

“And four days since I’ve seen you.” you pout, making him doe eyes at him. He melts instantly and cradles your face. “Always hungry aren’t you?” 

“For you? Yes.”

“And for blood.” he adds, making you both giggle. 

“Come on now, you gave me something to take care of.” With a pat on his bulge, you pull him up the stairs. Jeonghan happily follows but throws a cautious glance at the presumably dead body. He smiles, catching no sign of life in him, and trails behind you. 

You strut to the dining table that adjoins the kitchen and the living room and sit on it. He grins at your place of choice, and lust taints his visage when you spread your legs, inviting him.

He stands between your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty in front of him. Little drops of blood decorate your face, but the look in your eyes entrances him. A myriad of emotions swirl beneath your irises, but he recognizes all of them, mainly lust and hunger. 

His eyes dip down to the column of your neck, which he glides his forefinger over. His finger slowly ventures down and undoes the knot of your slip. He tuts, complaining about the blood on them. “That’s fine. It gives me evidence of your love.” 

“I’m right here. The living proof of my love for you,” he pecks your lips and pushes the slip off you. 

He pulls you to the edge of the table. His fingers ghost over the cloth of your underwear, brushing against the wet spot on them. His warm breath wafts down to your breasts when he kisses your neck and chest. “I can prove it now, if you want me to.” 

A breathy moan escapes you, giving him somewhat of a ‘yes.’ With another kiss to your jugular, he pulls away and kneels down. He kisses your heat through the cotton material and smirks, eyeing the wet patch formed by your arousal. In one sly movement, he removes your hipsters.   His lips are on your heat before you can process it. He kisses your little nub and gives kitten licks to your hole. His eyes dart to your eyes, mischief swirling under his dark irises. “Jeonghan! Please!”

“Please what sweetheart? You have to use your words.” You feel his smile on your core, and his warm breath wafts against it. 

“Please, eat me out!” 

He groans and obliges to your wishes right away. He dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. He moves above, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. He sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. He makes sure to look at you the entire time he’s buried between your legs. 

You relax and lay back down on the table. He spreads your legs further and licks up stripes on your sopping cunt. His tongue provides you the utmost pleasure, and moans fall from your lips freely. He switches to a slower pace as if he’s making out with your cunt. 

His tongue prods your folds, licking and savoring your taste. His hand moves to spread your lips, and he places a wet, loud kiss on your clit. A gasp escapes you when his tongue slips past your hole. He slowly moves his tongue in and out while he thumbs at your clit, drawing circles. 

He tones up his pace, getting faster and faster. Your legs tremble around his head as the coil in your stomach tightens. You cum the easiest whenever Jeonghan touches you after a “long time”—which is three days at the least. He seems to have some magic hidden up his sleeve to bring you the utmost pleasure possible. And, of course, all your years of marriage add to it.

The pressure on your clit builds up, causing your entire body to shudder and tremble. Your back arches, lifting off the table, but Jeonghan pushes you down, holding you firmly. And now that he has secured a tight grip on your hips, there is no escape from his tongue.

“Jeonghan!” you moan his name, hand shooting to grip his black locks. You push his head further into your cunt and move your hips in sync with his tongue. He smiles lazily between your legs, eyes holding nothing but awe and mirth.

The coil snaps, pushing you over the crescendo of pleasure. Wanton moans fill the room, and you cum on his tongue, giving him all your sweet nectar. Jeonghan licks you dry, caressing your trembling legs before he stands up.

Though you achieved your climax, the sight of your husband undoing his belt warms you up again. You sit up eagerly, hands flying to unbuckle his belt and slacks. He only chuckles, patting your head and muttering a low coo of ‘that's my girl.’

He slips off his shirt along with his slacks and boxers. It prompts you to undo your brassiere, presenting yourself bare to him. With a grin, he approaches you. You fawn at his rock-hard cock and undo your legs unconsciously.

Overwhelmed with the urge to feel him inside you, you pull him to you. He crashes his lips on yours in the process, giving you a searing kiss that sets your body aflame with desire. Your hands don't stay put, eager to roam all over his body. He does the same, hands relearning the route of your body for the nth time.

The heat of his body on yours melts your brain, knocking every thought out of you. The only thing you remember is his name and the way he makes you feel. Not the dire situation at play now or the dead body in your basement.

The brush of his fingers on your nipples, the poke of his cock against your inner thigh, the sensation of your sweltering skin making contact with his, the glide of his tongue on yours—all of it pushes you over the edge, driving you insane. Your arousal drips down your core, and it throbs with desire.

“Hannie,” you whine his name, your desire burning with a rage only he can control. “Fuck me.”

“As you wish, dollface.” 

His cock slips past your entrance with ease, filling you up in an instant. You hook your legs behind him, your foot digging into his back to push him in further. Your gummy walls envelop him in a warm hug that makes him dizzy.

You moan in unison when he bottoms out, in bliss with how perfectly he fills you. Throwing your arms around his neck, you prompt him to move. The first thrust is easy, given how your cunt drips down with arousal. It fills you with a pleasure that makes your body tremble.

He sets his pace, fucking you with eagerness. Each slap of his balls against your ass makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you cling to him for dear life. Sinful moans rumble from your throat with each snap of his hips.

His lips find yours again, but this time the kiss is sloppy and messy, with moans passed between your tongues and erratic snap of his hips. You meet his hips with the same vigor. You fuck him with an animalistic desire in your veins, and he gives you back just the same.

“Ah—fuck! God, I love fucking after we kill.” you yelp between your moans. He groans, replying with a “fuck, yes.”

Jeonghan grips your hips firmly, driving his cock in and out of you with a vigorous pace that numbs your nerves. Your nails dig into his back, and you scratch his delicate skin, leaving red marks for him to admire. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” you moan, unable to control your pleasure. The table squeaks in response to the vigor of his hips. You press your tits against his chest, desperate to feel more of his warmth.

You look down to where your body meets him. The sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt with a wet squelch each time makes you moan. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock, and some of your arousal drips down to the table.

Jeonghan shifts one of his hands to harshly grip the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. A grin decorates his face at the hazy look in your eyes. He keeps up his pace while moving his other hand to squeeze your mouth open. You push your tongue out eagerly, waiting for him to spit in your mouth. He does, and you happily taste him before swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. He grips your throat, squeezing it lightly. A chuckle erupts from his chest, watching your eyes roll back. He kisses your forehead again, only for him to deliver light slaps to your cheeks. Warmth pools in his chest when you whine and push yourself closer to him.

“Fuck, I love it when you go dumb on my cock.” He whispers into your ear, tickling you with his breath. His cock kisses your sweet spot, and you feel him twitching inside you.

You clench around him on purpose. He groans a low curse, and his movements turn erratic. You continue to do so till he eventually stops, whining a string of curses. “Stop it. Stop doing that,”

Obliging to his wishes, you observe him as he takes a few seconds to compose himself. His eyelids flutter, and his lips fall apart as he tries to regain control. A knowing smirk graces your lips, knowing the effect you have on him.

“Brat,” you only giggle in response, which is cut short when he thrusts with a force that has you shuddering. His tip kisses your cervix, sending shudders of pleasure through your body. Tears prick your waterline and eventually cascade down your cheek as you cry out his name.

All it takes is one more thrust to push you over the crescendo again. This time, it's more intense and mind-numbing. You moan his name over and over again, like a prayer for salvation. He follows suit and fills his load inside you, shuddering the same as you.

His hands wrap around you tightly and, yours around him. Leaning your head against his shoulders, you catch your breath and try to control the shivers through your body. His warm breath on your back calms you, and so do his feather-light touches.

Your eyelids feel heavy as slumber descends upon you. And, before you know it, you fall asleep in his arms. 

[ … ]

“We have to let the others know about this,” Jeonghan informs, stirring his cup of tea with a spoon. You nod wordlessly, sipping your own cup of tea.

Slumber hasn't left you completely, and the tiredness weighs down on your bones. Your eyes slowly close shut again, and you lean back on the loveseat. Jeonghan sighs to himself, setting his cup down on the coffee table. He takes away yours before you can spill it on yourself.

Your soft groans make his heart flutter, and you stir awake again. The first thing you see is your husband sitting on the floor as he massages your legs.

“Poor thing, you must've had a hard time.” The pout on his lips makes you smile. “Not really,” you chirp, feeling more energetic as the seconds pass.

“Oh really?” he muses, and you hum. He shakes his head, worry marring his features. “What if I didn't get here on time? Why did you even allow him in?”

“I was bored.” To which he glares at you, a tired sigh falling from his lips.

“And, He visited.”

Jeonghan stops massaging your legs and looks up at you, confused. You see the tinge of fear in the clench of his jaw and the hold of his breath. You point to the black cat that has made itself home despite all the chaos that went down a few hours ago.

He visibly calms down and bows his head at the cat meows in return. He looks back at your smiling figure, and it strikes him. “Right, I asked for your safety to Him.”

“He saw our pictures,” your words barely audible as you look at the big wall covered with all your pictures with him. A soft smile graces your lips when your eyes fall on your wedding picture. 14th October, 1949.

Then you cackle, recalling the realization and terror on that guy's face. “Oh, you should've seen his face.” Jeonghan laughs along with you and resumes his ministrations on your legs. You relax on the cushion and let out a blissful sigh.

He sighs and zeroes in on the blood spots on your vintage slip. One of his many gifts to you, and it's something you've treasured for over seven decades.

“Ugh, it's fine. You can always buy me a new one.” You say, and a smirk adorns your lips when your eyes fall on the Johnny Cash vinyl on the shelf. You stand and walk towards it, pulling it out gently.

You flash your husband a grin, and he mirrors your visage. Placing the vinyl on the platter of the vinyl player, you move the tonearms and set it on the vinyl.

The world tunes into a buzzing background as you dance with him. His hands are gentle on you, holding you delicately. The setting is all a little too familiar to him, and before he knows it, he takes a trip down memory lane.

But the only one he can remember is the time when he almost lost you to death. The image of your bed-stricken figure flashes through his mind. He holds you a little closer.

In his life plan, Jeonghan never even imagined that you'd be diagnosed with cancer fifteen years into your marriage. Nothing held out, and it was hard to be optimistic with his wife on the lifeline.

And as he was holding your pained body in his arms, he cried and cried. What kind of god would allow this? Why should you be taken away? He felt life slowly slip out of you, and he couldn’t stop it. 

They say to never pray to the gods that answer at night, but that’s all he could do. Turning his back on religion and righteousness. His love for you blinded all reason, and he yearned to be in your embrace once again. He could never live without you—what he feels is an immortal desire, lust, love. Even if he is to die, the ground around him will flourish and sprout your favorite flowers—an amaranthine yearning. 

So he did it. He prayed and prayed, and when He finally answered, he vowed to do anything and everything that He wished for. Immortality for the curse of bloodied hands. He cringed at the sight of blood staining his skin, but as your bloodied hand intertwined with his, all felt right and in place. 

His hands take purchase on your hips, holding you as you sway to the gentle hum of the music. You smile at him and lean on his shoulders, content in his embrace. He mirrors your smile and kisses your forehead. 

What a blessing it is to be here with you? To gently sway to some music in the living room of your home with your blood-stained slips and his stained soul? 

He kisses you, and you kiss him back. You bite his lips just enough to draw blood. A thousand ways to bleed, but you are his favorite.

⛧spooktober taglist !

@verogonewild @blancflms @chromequette @junniepookiedookie @kyeomiis

@jeonghnie @scoupsieee @xuminghaes @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ririesna

@monstacheol @hoshiskimchi @miyx-amour @woozidanisms @choco-scoups

@cookiearmy @shadowyjellyfishfest @wonwoossecret @strxwberry-skiess @iamawkwardandshy

@merakilles @vitaminkyeom @okiedokrie @armycarat2612 @gyuguys

@idubiluranghae @goodforgyu @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @gyubakeries @nonuify

@aaniag @4cheezflatbred

[writeriguess]

hello! can i request fem!reader witnessing Bakugou's "death" only to see him be revived during the war? thank you!

Ash and Thunder

The world was ending. At least, that’s what it felt like. Explosions lit up the battlefield, the sky a swirling mass of dust, fire, and screams. Heroes and villains clashed in a violent dance, but you could only see one person—one person who made the chaos fade into background noise.

Katsuki Bakugou.

You had fought your way through Nomus and villains, your muscles aching, your body screaming for rest, but you didn’t stop. You never would. Not when he was still out there, pushing himself beyond his limits.

And then you saw it.

A blur of orange and black, a streak of lightning-fast movement as Bakugou propelled himself toward Shigaraki. His gauntlets were cracked, his costume torn and stained with blood—his own and others’. Yet, his crimson eyes burned with unrelenting fury.

“I won’t let you lay a single filthy hand on anyone else!” he roared, explosions igniting in his palms as he launched himself at Shigaraki.

Time slowed.

Shigaraki grinned, a sickeningly amused expression twisting his face. “Too slow.”

You saw it before it even happened. The way Shigaraki’s muscles tensed, the way his arm cocked back like a loaded gun.

“BAKUGOU!”

Your voice was lost in the cacophony of war.

Shigaraki’s fist crashed into Bakugou’s chest.

The sound was… wrong. It wasn’t just the dull thud of impact—it was a wet, sickening squelch.

Blood exploded outward.

You watched, frozen, as Shigaraki’s hand ripped through flesh, muscle, and bone. His fist emerged from Bakugou’s back, his heart—what was left of it—torn to shreds.

The world turned silent.

Bakugou’s body jerked, his mouth opening in a silent gasp. His pupils were blown wide, his arms falling limply to his sides.

Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, he collapsed.

“No… no, no, no!” You ran, your legs barely responding, as if the earth had become molasses beneath your feet.

Shigaraki tossed Bakugou’s lifeless body aside like trash, stepping over him without a second glance.

You hit the ground beside him, hands trembling as you reached out, pressing them to his bloodied chest.

Nothing.

No heartbeat.

No warmth.

Just silence.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, tears blurring your vision as you clutched his hand. “Katsuki—Katsuki, please. Please open your eyes. Please…”

He didn’t.

His face was slack, peaceful in a way that made you want to scream. This wasn’t him. Katsuki Bakugou didn’t go peacefully. He was all fire and fury, all explosions and rage. He wasn’t supposed to—

A choked sob ripped from your throat.

Someone was yelling your name. You barely registered it. Hands grabbed your shoulders, trying to pull you away, but you fought, refusing to let go of him.

“He’s gone!” a voice—Dynamight’s mentor, Best Jeanist—gritted out. “We have to move!”

Gone.

The word echoed in your skull, rattling around like a broken record.

Katsuki Bakugou was gone.

—

The battle raged on, but you were numb.

You fought, because you had to. Because you couldn’t let his sacrifice be for nothing. But the fire in you had dimmed.

And then—

A whisper of a voice through the static in your mind.

“Bakugou is breathing again.”

You whipped around.

Your heart lurched into your throat.

There—on the battlefield, where he had fallen—he was moving.

Edgeshot knelt beside him, his body thin and weak, his fingers pressed to Bakugou’s chest. “I’ve replaced his heart,” he murmured, voice strained. “He’s alive.”

Your legs nearly gave out.

And then—

A cough. A sharp inhale.

Bakugou’s fingers twitched.

His crimson eyes fluttered open.

You were running before you could think.

He barely had time to sit up before you crashed into him, arms wrapping around his battered, shaking frame. “You idiot!” you sobbed into his shoulder. “You absolute idiot! You died! Do you have any idea—”

A weak chuckle rumbled against your chest. “Tch. ‘Course I came back. You really think I’d leave you behind?”

Tears streamed down your face, but you were smiling. “You better not, Katsuki.”

He grinned, leaning his forehead against yours, exhaustion in every inch of his being. “Yeah. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

[uunoia]

Aphrodisiacs

Part of my Technoblade x Reader WIP Word: ~1600

Phil handed the both of you hot, steaming cups of tea. “I hope you both like it, I brewed this especially for the both of you.” You quirked a brow at the old man as he folded his arms in his robe, finding his choice of words odd. Mentally shrugging it off, you blew on your cup before giving it a careful sip. It was deliciously sweet with a hint of a floral sense to It and In all honesty you had to give Phil credit where credit is due. 

“Oh wow. This tea is amazing, Phil.”

Techno took a sip as well, the dainty china looking smaller In his larger sized hand. An amusing sight from your perspective.

“Yeah, It's alright I suppose.” Techno relaxed into the chair, his ankle resting on his knee as he leaned back in his seat, Techno and you both took another sip.

“What did you put in it?” You innocently asked, taking another sip.

Phil smiled, “It's a special brew. I added some of those sweet berries and rose flower petals-”

Technos eyes widened, he stopped drinking all together and he went for a full on spit take. Spraying you completely in the warm brew. Your face, hair, and your shirt doused completely with tea.

Techno coughed violently, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at the small china cup. “Phil.” His voice was dangerously calm, but the look in his eyes screamed nothing but the utmost betrayal. As If his dear old friend had dramatically driven a knife in his back in a moment of weakness. “You've doomed me, Phil. You did not just serve us-”

“Oh, lighten up mate,” Phil waved him off casually, “You both have been way too tense lately. So, I just added a little something extra. Thought you two could use it.”

You settled your cup down and dried your eyes with the bottom of your shirt, one look at Techno and you could see his cheeks were dusted pink. He bolted upright, his chair scraping against the floor as he approached the window. He opened the window and dumped the rest of the brew from his cup like it had personally offended him, making Phil sifle a chuckle at the sight.

You, still dripping of tea, adjusted your wet shirt as it clung uncomfortably to your skin, dawning realization of what Phil had just admitted.

“…Did you just—” You blinked at him. “Did you just drug us?!”

“What? Nah. It’s just herbs.” Philza rolled his eyes as he waved off, completely unbothered. “Back in the day, we used to drink it all the time. It’s good for blood flow, stamina, y’know?”

Techno choked again, fists clenching at his sides. “PHIL! THAT MAKES IT WORSE!”

“Not that kind of stamina—”

“That’s literally what it’s used for!”

Phil shrugged. “Can also be used for energy, focus, a bit of warmth—”

Techno shook his head furiously, his entire face heating up. You had never ever seen Techno this flustered, or affected by something In all the time you had known him.

He’s been through war, escaped an execution attempt and took actual betrayal better than Phil’s aphrodisiac brew.

“No. No…We’re out. We’re gone. We leave.” He picked you up off the chair by your elbow, your chair scraping against the spruce floor, making you stand.

“Hey!-” You gasped at the suddenness. He turned on his heel, already storming toward the door, your arm in his hand.

“Phil- You’ve doomed me. You've doomed me, Phil-” Phil could all but chuckle at the sight before him like the agent of chaos he painted himself to be.

“Techno, where are we going?!” You stumbled slightly before matching his pace to the door.

“You and I are drinking milk.” He dragged you out of the house, leading you into the basement. It was with such urgency It was as though you needed to be exorcised of the tea's effects.

Phil called out, “And help her get cleaned up!” Techno only grumbled in response as you both left the front door and went to the basement.

Phil chuckled, sipping on his regular tea. “...So dramatic. The both of you.”

The basement was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the absolute chaos that had just unfolded in the cabin above. You were still drenched in tea, your drenched shirt making you shiver in the cold. Droplets dripped from your hair, trailing down your face and neck.

Techno was already rummaging through one of the storage chests, muttering something under his breath about “old man meddling where he shouldn’t.” His cheeks were still pink, the tips of his ears twitching slightly, and you knew—you knew—he was dying inside.

Techno grabbed a bottle of milk from the chest, drinking some of the cool and sweet cure-all before turning and handing the rest to you. 

He turned back around and rummaged through the chests. You stood awkwardly near the ladder before you drank the rest of the milk bottle. 

It didn't exactly feel like you were under the influence of any status effects. You felt normal, other than the slight chills you got from getting soaked your body felt entirely the same before and after the tea. It felt completely the same after the milk too, which, you didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"So... Do you have a towel, or am I supposed to just stand here and marinate?"

Techno turned around, holding a white shirt (probably his, judging by the size), and tossed it at you without a word. The fabric smacked you in the face.

You peeled it off with a deadpan expression. "Thanks. That really helped."

He huffed, crossing his arms. "You're welcome."

You shook your head, sighing. “I can’t believe Phil…”

“I can.” Techno muttered, grabbing a clean rag from another chest and handing it to you. “Man’s been alive for centuries, he was bound to get bored eventually.”

You took the rag from his hand and started dabbing at your face, before Techno took the rag back, gently dabbing and drying your face himself. Thinking you probably wouldn't do as good a job without some help. You muttered a small thank you to which he gruffly hummed in response. He was actually surprisingly careful, his hand held your cheek while the other held the towel, gliding it over your face and neck. 

You mentally shook your head, remembering the tea. You grimaced as the brew stuck to your skin. "God, this stuff is so sticky. It’s like he brewed honey in it."

Techno let go of your face, hanging the rag on one of the ladder steps. "You should probably change before it stains."

You paused, looking down at your soaked shirt. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d leave so I could do that.”

He didn’t move.

“…Techno.”

He blinked. “What?”

You gestured vaguely. "Privacy?"

He stared at you for a long moment, then let out an exaggerated sigh, “Alright…” distancing himself from you and leaning against the stone wall, "I'll turn around."

"You could also leave, y'know."

"Nope," He said flatly, spinning on his heel so his back was to you. "Not taking my chances. Knowing Phil, that tea might have some kind of delayed effect or some weird potion nonsense. You pass out or start hallucinating, not my problem.” He rambled, feeling anxious and fidgety about the situation overall.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "So dramatic…”

He scoffed. “Says the one who almost swan dove into a lava lake if it weren't for me.”

“Okay, first of all—”

“Change.”

You rolled your eyes, but ultimately gave up. You turned your back to him and pulled the damp shirt over your head, shivering slightly as the cool air hit your skin. The only thing covering your top half being your bra. You felt around blindly for the dry shirt he had thrown at you earlier.

Of course, because today sucked, you dropped it.

A beat of silence.

“…You good?”

You clenched your jaw. “No.”

You reached down to grab the shirt, forgetting that you were currently half-dressed. You barely had time to react before Techno glanced over his shoulder.

And then immediately regretted his life choices.

“Oh God—” He whipped his head around so fast you thought he’d snap his own neck. He practically slammed his hand over his mouth, his face burning a violent red. He really didn't mean to, he wasn't stupid. He assumed you were done putting on the shirt, how long does it really take to change a shirt?

You snatched the dry shirt off the floor and yanked it on as fast as humanly possible. “WHY DID YOU LOOK?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

“WHY DID YOU LOOK?!”

“I PANICKED!”

A painfully awkward silence settled between the both of you.

Techno cleared his throat, still refusing to turn around. His face was completely red, he wanted to say anything, quip even! The embarrassment was choking him as much, maybe even more than you. “…You done?”

“…Yeah.”

He exhaled sharply, finally relaxing his shoulders. “Cool. Great. Fantastic.” He turned back around, face still a little too pink. 

You rubbed your temples. “Let’s never talk about this.”

“Agreed.”

Another beat.

Tommy’s voice could be heard from upstairs, followed by the front door opening and slamming shut. Followed by a muffled, “PHIL!!” Followed by the sound of something breaking.

You and Techno both groaned in unison.

“Alright- That's enough mortifying embarrassment for one day” Techno then turned towards the double spruce door leading outside, opening one of the doors, the chill of the snowy outside nipping at your skin.

“Where are you going?”

“The tactical retreat—” He closed the spruce door behind him.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Worst's Chapter 402

Brief summary: Cale plants flags. A new wanderer shows up. Eru wants a power-up too.

==========

As usual, our Cale planted flags again. But the reactions of the ancient powers made it twice as funny. 😂😂😂

FoD: It's worth a try. Cale: I have no intention of fighting. Why would I go to all this trouble if not? I'm doing this to make the wanderer and GoC cult fight each other, not to fight that wanderer. FoD: Haha! Cale. Then, what you said will come true in the opposite way. Cale: What? *frowns* FoD: Hahaha! Cale: (What's wrong with him?) FoD: Cale. Gimme money. You are now on your way to becoming a god, past the angels. So you should spend money like a god. Thus, give me money. I want to use my power like a god. My foundation is money. Cale: (What the heck is he talking about? Let's ignore him.) FoD: *sulks*

The way the cheapskate pointed out the flag Cale had planted... 🤣🤣🤣 And mentioning that Cale is on the godhood path. 🤣🤣🤣

A new male wanderer teleported to where the female wanderer was, and we got to finally know their names. They were Ryeon and Cho, twins who had opposite unique powers. Ryeon had an ice unique power and Cho had a fire unique power. And this time, it was Sky-Eating Water who responded to the new male wanderer.

SEW: That Fire guy. Isn't he worth fighting? FoD: It's something worth trying. But won't Cale cough up a lot of blood? Won't he cough blood like crazy for the first time in a while? Not as a skill side effect, but really cough blood like crazy? Cale: I have no intention of fighting those two! I absolutely have no intention of dealing with them at the same time! SEW: Oh. Okay. *says dryly* FoD: Oh. Okay. *says dryly* SR: Cale. Don't worry. Cale: *feels strangely uneasy as if someone struck the back of his head*

SEW and FoD letting Cale's words go in from one ear and out the other was funny. 😂😂😂 The twin wanderers then decided to head to the Primordial Night and bring Cale because he was the only one who saw the "helper" who kidnapped Sohee.

Wanderer twins: We're going to the Primordial Night. We should take the witness who saw the helper. *looks at Cale* Cale: (Yes! Plan success! Now I get to see the wanderers and the GoC cult fight each other firsthand!) FoD: Is it worth a try? Let's strengthen me. Okay? SEW: Would you like to try it? Cale: *ignores the two*

There was also a scene of Eruhaben wanting to become stronger and develop an "aura" too like CH and HD. His reason? He did not want to look as a "not that great" dragon to Raon because he was weak against the wanderers.

Ending Remarks The ancient powers's reactions today was hilarious. Next chapter would be Cale being taken by the twins to the holy land of GoC, the Primordial Night.

Oh yeah, it was Cho, the new wanderer, who said a variation the chapter title - "How dare the God of Chaos stab us in the back?"

[the-fox-with-no-name]

The AFTG actor AU cast panel. Neil, Andrew, Kevin, and Riko are on stage, responding to a fan question.]

Decided to get this out of my draft, enjoy for those who need to heal.

Moderator: "Alright, this one's for everyone. Who gets hurt the most on set?"

Without hesitation, Riko raises his microphone and points at Neil. Andrew does the same. Kevin, ever composed, gestures toward Neil like he's presenting an award.

The audience bursts into laughter.

Neil (grinning, unfazed): "Yeah, I have a habit of getting hurt on set."

Andrew (deadpan): "At this point, it’s a miracle he’s still standing."

Kevin (exasperated): "He refuses to pace himself. I tell him to be careful, but does he listen? No."

Riko: "Worse is that he plays it off. If he gets hurt, he doesn’t even want to get fixed. When I accidentally literally broke your toe, you just went, ‘Eh, I’ve got nine others.’ Who does that?!"

Neil (shrugging): "It wasn’t that bad."

Andrew: "It was literally facing the wrong direction when Abby checked."

Kevin (pinching the bridge of his nose): "He finished the scene first."

Riko (in disbelief): "HE FINISHED THE SCENE FIRST."

Neil (grinning): "Commitment."

Andrew: "Recklessness."

Kevin: "A liability."

The audience is in stitches as the cast continues roasting Neil for his complete disregard for self-preservation.

Moderator: "Alright, continuation of the question: What are the few time time Neil got hurt?"

The Kevin, Riko and Andrew pause, genuinely trying to think. A moment of silence passes as they all struggle to pick just one.

Kevin (suddenly remembering, clearing his throat): "Oh! There was that gag when Neil was trying to kick the door during that— [coughs] Thanksgiving scene."

The audience collectively holds their breath.

Kevin (grinning): "Your leg got stuck in the door. Your foot went through, to the knee. You almost fucked up your leg."

Neil: "Yeah. I was struggling, and the whole script went out the window. Aaron was charging like a crazy person, yelling, ‘I WILL SAVE YOU!’"

[Laughter erupts.]

Neil (deadpan, gesturing vaguely): "Meanwhile, I’m still stuck, the wood’s piercing the back of my knee, and Andrew—" [turns to Andrew with mock betrayal] "That motherfucker was eating a turkey leg as this was happening."

[The audience absolutely loses it.]

Andrew (unbothered, sipping his drink): "What did you want me to do? Stop eating? i got hungry and you took too long"

Riko (nodding along): "He did offer you a bite."

Kevin: "While Neil was still stuck."

Neil (throwing his hands up): "Yeah! Like, I’m literally wedged in a door, dying, and Andrew just goes, ‘Want some?’"

Andrew (shrugging): "You looked hungry."

[The audience is in absolute chaos as Neil shakes his head, laughing while Andrew remains entirely unapologetic.]

Riko (grinning, shaking his head): "Not gonna lie, that scene killed me. But thank God you all made light of it."

[The others nod, all in agreement.]

Riko (suddenly remembering, looking a little guilty): "Oh, one time. And this was an accident I never meant for it to happen, but when Jean and I were, uh, torturing Neil on set, I wasn’t given the right knives, and I almost stabbed you."

[The audience collectively gasps, followed by laughter as they realize how casually this is being told.]

Neil (pointing at Riko, smirking): "You almost fainted."

Riko (offended): "I did not."

Neil (grinning): "Dude, when you cut me, you literally went, ‘Is that real blood?’"

Riko (throwing his hands up): "HEY! I thought I hurt you, man!"

Neil (deadpan): "It was just a flesh wound."

Riko (exasperated): "On your fucking face! And Jean, oh my God Jean just freaks out, [riko reenacting Jean going full panic mode, and in the worst heavy French accent possible], ‘Oh God, zat is not a prop! Not a prop!’"

[The audience is absolutely losing it.]

Riko (gesturing wildly): "This man grabs the knife, realizes it’s not the right prop, and just starts running around like it’s the end of the world, meanwhile, Neil’s standing there with blood on his face going, ‘Eh, it’s fine.’"

Neil (shrugging): "I mean, it was fine."

Kevin (head in hands): "How are you still alive?"

Andrew (completely unfazed): "He regenerates. Probably."

Riko (shaking his head, still in disbelief): "And then, while still bleeding, this idiot looks at me and says, ‘So are you going to spit in my mouth, or what?’"

Kevin (burying his face in his hands): "I forgot about that."

Neil (completely unfazed, grinning): "Gotta stay in character."

Riko (gesturing wildly): "You were BLEEDING. FROM YOUR FACE."

Andrew (deadpan): "And yet, that’s the part that disturbed you."

Riko: "Listen, I was already convinced I’d killed him, and then he hits me with that? I almost walked off set right then and there."

Kevin (laughing but also exhausted): "Jean had to take a five-minute break because he was wheezing so hard."

Neil (shrugging): "I stand by it. Perfect line delivery."

Riko (mock-offended): "It was not in the script!"

Neil (grinning): "It was in my script."

Neil (quietly, realizing what’s coming): "Oh God."

Kevin (noticing, amused): "What’s on your mind, Andrew?"

[Andrew, completely expressionless, looks at Neil, then at the audience.]

Andrew (calmly): "Neil dislocated his shoulder during the ‘shower scene.’"

[The audience collectively gasps before breaking into chaotic laughter.]

[Neil, face instantly turning red, slides down in his chair, trying to disappear.]

Neil (muffled, covering his face): "Andrew, why."

Andrew (shrugging): "I said my peace."

[Kevin is trying so hard not to laugh, hands covering his mouth. Riko, however, leans forward, absolutely delighted.]

Riko (grinning): "Oh, I definitely want to hear more of this one."

Kevin (finally cracking, laughing): "Me and Nora actually debated whether we wanted to keep that take."

Neil (peeking out from behind his hands): "I mean... I was supposed to slip after Andrew... you know."

[The audience, teasing laughter.]

Neil (groaning, hiding his face again): "But the shower floor was so slippery and so small. With Andrew in it with me... yeah."

[Riko cackles, Kevin shakes his head, and Andrew just sits there, looking smug as hell while Neil dies of embarrassment in his chair.]

Riko (grinning, absolutely thriving): "This just keeps getting better."

Kevin (laughing, shaking his head): "I swear, if we’d kept that take, the internet would’ve exploded."

Neil (groaning, still hiding): "It did explode when people found out anyway!"

[Andrew, completely unbothered, leans into his mic.]

Andrew (deadpan): "There you go, AO3."

[The audience screams—absolute mayhem erupts.]

Kevin (finally breaking, covering his face): "Oh my God."

Riko (laughing so hard he’s tearing up): "You just handed it to them!"

Neil (muffled, still slumped in his chair): "I hate all of you."

Andrew (calmly sipping his drink): "No, you don’t."

[n-e-t-t]

“Is this because of the Ribbon?”

Marauders-Era | Fluff | Slight Smut (lol oops) | Language

Marauders x F!Reader, She/Her (implied Remus x Reader, with unhinged Sirius vibes), one shot

Wardrobe Malfunctions, Ribbon Kink???Friends to Lovers to Crisis

James Potter cursed your wardrobe as a joke, turning everything you owned into clown costumes right on time for the Hogsmeade trip. Lily Evan’s saves the day, in more ways than one.

—————————————

You weren’t planning to scream bloody murder before breakfast.

But here you were, standing in front of your wardrobe, shaking with fury and dressed in what could only be described as a sexy victorian clown costume, complete with frills, lace, and a corset that audibly squeaked when you moved.

A screech clawed its way out your throat, echoing through the entire Gryffindor Tower like some tragic banshee of fashion betrayal. Several second-years cry. A suit of armor on the seventh floor faints. Somewhere, Filch drops his mop.

You stormed into the hallway in full horror-clown regalia, dragging your wand behind you like a medieval weapon. Doors cracked open. Sleepy heads poked out.

“POTTER!” you bellowed, the frills on your sleeves shuddering with rage.

“I CAN EXPLAIN!” he shouted from two floors down.

“I’M GOING TO SKIN YOU AND USE YOUR CAPE AS A DISH TOWEL!”

—————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting on the edge of Lily Evans’ bed, fuming and half-naked.

“I’m going to kill him,” you muttered. “I’m going to drag him to McGonagall’s office myself and tell ‘er James Potter has been smuggling black-market prank curses into the castle.”

Lily was already rummaging through her wardrobe like the goddess of divine intervention she was.

“You’re not killing him,” she said casually. “He’d haunt you. Badly. Like, blood dripping from the ceiling, your shampoo smelling like vinegar, bad.”

You groaned. “I was supposed to be hot today.”

“You still can be.” She turned around holding a soft, floral dress in pale blue. Like right out of an advert for baby powder or laundry detergent. “Wear this.”

You blinked.

Lily raised a brow. “You want to go to Hogsmeade looking like Ronald McDonald’s mistress, or do you want to look like someone Sirius Black would walk into a lamppost over?”

You blinked again. “…I’ll take the dress.”

She grinned. “Thought so.”

—————————

Twenty minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror, unrecognizable.

Soft dress. Babydoll shoes. No smoky eye. Hair half-up, secured with a simple little white ribbon Lily tied with practiced fingers.

You looked like you were about to write poetry in a field and then stab a man behind a rose bush.

You twirled once.

You looked… pretty. In a different way than usual.

And you could practically feel the chaos building like storm clouds outside.

You smiled to yourself.

“Let’s go emotionally devastate four boys.”

—————————

The boys were already waiting when you arrived.

James was showing off his new broom catalogue to Peter. Sirius was lounging on a stone bench like the sun was contractually obligated to shine on him. Remus was reading (shocking), sipping something warm and absolutely not ready for what was about to hit him like a rogue bludger to the groin.

Then you walked out.

Soft dress. Bare legs. Ribbon in your hair. No eyeliner. Lip gloss. Cheekbones from heaven. A literal angel sent to punish them all.

James looks up. Drops his broom catalogue. A look of sheer disappointment and despair in his eyes. “Oh no.”

Peter gasps audibly.

Remus spits out his tea. Coughs. Whispers something that sounds like “fuck” in four different languages. Looks back down at his book like it might physically protect him.

Sirius stands up too fast. Regrets it instantly. Adjusts his trousers like he’s hiding a cursed object. Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide. Says nothing. Just vibrates.

“Morning, boys,” you say, voice dipped in honey and war crimes.

James chokes. Lily hits him.

Sirius, dazed. “Where… where did your eyeliner go?”

“I killed it.” You said bluntly.

Peter. “She’s a bloody threat to society. With that… bow?”

You lean over to Lily and whisper. “I feel like I could kill a man. But like… politely.”

—————————

You walked out of Honeydukes holding a small bag of sweets and a dangerous amount of confidence. The soft skirt of Lily’s dress swayed with every step. The ribbon fluttered in the breeze like a personal attack. People stared. Whispers followed you like perfume. Some poor fifth year tripped over his own feet and hit a lamp post.

You didn’t even notice. You were too busy existing.

James, eating a Fizzing Whizbee too fast to avoid having to speak keeps muttering to himself, “She’s literally a clown. She’s a clown. I cursed her into a clown. What is this. What IS this?”

You leaned over. Smiling. “Say it, Potter. I wore your curse better than you expected.”

James softly spoke, staring into the void. “You wore it like vengeance and sugar. I regret everything.”

Sirius walks two paces behind you like a guard dog who keeps forgetting his job.

Keeps looking at your legs and then up at the sky like it might smite him. At one point, you laugh too loud and he walks into a flower cart. Full impact. Petunias everywhere.

Lily was far from pleased.

Remus has gone full “rebooting Windows 95”. His mind going that quickly that he thought of something that hadn’t even been invented yet. He stares for too long. Blinks twice as often. Keeps looking down at his shoes like they hold the answer to why his friend looks like a blooming poem.

“Remus, you alright?” You ask over your shoulder, canines on show.

Remus, lying through his teeth. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be? This is fine. Everything is fine. The air’s just different today. Wetter. Wetter air.”

Sirius butts in, flower petals in his hair. “You’re sweating.”

Remus snips. “It’s the dew point, Sirius. Read a book.”

—————————

When they returned back to the castle, Lily is half-crying, half-wheezing on her bed while you pace around still in the dress, arms flung wide like you’re giving a monologue on a west end stage.

“I felt like a woman, Lily. Like a 1950s housewife who hides arsenic in the lemon drizzle.”

Lily, wheezing. “You BROKE them.”

“I liberated them.”

“I didn’t even know Remus had tear ducts.”

They collapse into giggles. Ribbons and victory strewn everywhere.

Meanwhile, in the boys dorm,

Sirius is laying on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it just told him he’s going to die alone.

James, from the corner. “You okay, Pads?”

“She wore a ribbon, James. A ribbon.”

Remus. “It was… nice.”

Sirius sits up violently. “It was spiritual.”

Peter. “Do you think she’d let me be her footstool? Like in a respectful way?”

Remus. “Shut the fuck up, Pete.”

—————��———

The next morning, you walk into the common room like it’s just another day. Casual. Hair tied back. Smoky eye back on. She’s back, baby.

But the ribbon?

It’s dangling from your fingers. The same one from yesterday. You’re chewing gum and humming something vaguely catchy.

Remus is on the couch, book open, legs crossed like he’s got composure and dignity left in his life.

He’s wrong.

You flop down beside him, legs tucked under you like a cat. You fiddle with the ribbon now, twisting it between your fingers.

“I was gonna give this back,” You say, holding it up, “but then I thought… you’re sentimental, right? You’d appreciate a relic of the day I emotionally dismantled you all.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t dismantled.”

You smiled. “You sneezed into your Butterbeer when I winked at you.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks back at his book like it’s going to save him.

Then—you take his wrist.

No warning. Just gentle fingers and firm intention. And you start tying the ribbon around it. Soft. Precise. A little bow.

“Now you can be the pretty one today.”

You don’t think anything of it. You just grin and pat his hand before hopping up to go bother James about the latest Quidditch drama.

Remus sits there. His own voice talking to himself in his already damaged physique.

Oh my God. She called me pretty. She tied the fucking ribbon. Like fucking bondage. Girly, feminine bondage. I can never take it off. This is a relic now. This is a horcrux of lust and longing. I’m going to die in this fucking ribbon. I’m so fucking touch starved-

I just—did I—did I actually—

Oh no.

I JUST BUSTED IN MY TROUSERS.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHO AM I. I AM A MONSTER.

Sirius, from across the room, squinting.

“Why is Remus sitting like he just got hit by a Confundus and an orgasm at the same time?”

“She touched him. With the ribbon.” Said Peter.

Sirius. “WE NEED TO BAN THE RIBBON.”

—————————

You’d already left for class when James strides up to Remus, parchment under his arm, halfway through a random conversation. “Moony, come on, we’re gonna be late for—why are you sitting like you’ve just committed a felony?”

Remus doesn’t even look up. Just mutters:

“No.”

James. “No?”

Remus, faint, distant. “I can’t go. I’m sick. I have… I have diarrhoea.” Great one Remus absolutely brilliant well done where’s the fucking confetti?

James blinks. “Mate. Are you okay?”

Remus, dead serious. “It’s violent. Sudden. I don’t want to talk about it.”

James. “We literally have five minutes before Flitwick locks the door—”

Remus, more intense now. “James, I’m actively unwell.”

James, visibly concerned. “Should I—should I get Pomfrey? Is it the full moon stuff? Do you need your calming draught?”

Remus, eyes wide, sweating. “NO. No. No Pomfrey. Just—just leave me. Let me die in peace.”

James, whispering as he walks away. “Is this what happens when we let him read Austen before bed?”

—————————

You’re outside the classroom, twirling your wand, looking mildly annoyed.

“Where’s Remus?”

James stopped next to you, frazzled. “He said he has diarrhoea.”

You still your fingers. “Since when does he announce it?”

Sirius, in a grim, yet oddly husky tone. “Since you tied a fucking ribbon on him like he’s your little house-elf boyfriend and called him pretty.”

Peter, quietly. “He hasn’t moved since. It was… intimate.”

—————————

Remus Lupin has locked himself in the bathroom. The door is warded. The windows are fogged. He has not emerged in 42 minutes.

Rumors are rampant. Lily knows. Marlene knows. The Fat Lady knows. Peter thinks he’s died. James thinks he’s having a nervous breakdown. Sirius knows exactly what happened, and is considering sending him a sympathy potion with a little umbrella in it. And an invitation.

And you?

You’re done playing games.

You stomp up to the bathroom door, arms crossed, expression set to “emergency nurse meets furious ex-wife.”

“REMUS. MOONY. HELLO. Is this because of the ribbon?! They’re saying it’s the ribbon?! I’m- I’m sorry Remus-“

“NO. I HAVE FUCKING DIARRHOEA, SWEETHEART. IT BURNS. PLEASE JUST PISS OFF, YEAH?!” Shouted Remus, muffled through the door and his own self loathing.

James, from down the hall. “Love, just walk away. He’s not coming back from this.”

Sirius, leaning casually against the wall. “He’s never been this dramatic. And this is a man who wrote a ten-page essay on how his tea went cold too fast last week. On the different places the drafts come through the stonework, right up against the coffee table-“

“Was it the ribbon?” You snipped at Sirius.

“Oh, sweetheart. That boy came unhinged the moment you tied it. That ribbon saw more action than anyone in this castle. Apart from me, of course,” Sirius spoke through his smirk.

Remus, screaming, somewhere between humiliation and actual death. “I CAN STILL HEAR YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKS!” His voice broke.

You yelled through the door.

“Just say it, Lupin! Say it was the ribbon! Say it and I’ll bake you a chocolate pie!”

“FUCK YOUR PIE!”

—————————

Remus finally emerges. Disheveled. Pale. Emotionally bankrupt. More than usual.

The ribbon?

Still on his wrist.

It was like his limp never existed, the way he all but teleported down the hall.

Sirius leaned into you real close, his smoke breath on your ear as his eyes bite into the back of Remus’ head. “Teach me your ways, please?”

James walked up.

“I can’t believe I accidentally created this timeline by charming her wardrobe. I am a god.”

………………………………

Sorry about this okay byeeeeeeee

[moonselune]

Heyyyy, so I'm into really stranger things rn, whoops, but what about the companions reacting to a super buff gn!Tav who is holding back some big enemy, like one of the minotaurs or a steel watcher or something, with their bare hands to give the companions time to escape? If you've seen stranger things, then it's the scene from season 3 with the spider monster and Billy in Starcourt mall that I'm inspired by lol. Whether or not Tav dies is up to you, I just think it'd be interesting

heyyyyy nonnie, so I actually have not watched it but my friend is so she helped me with this one for the vibe, so if its not right we blame her (affectionately)

BG3 Party | Go

The Steel Watcher’s footsteps were like the aftershocks of some long-dead god's wrath.

Each one cracked through the brittle bones of the ruined temple, shaking the shattered pillars and raining stone dust from above like gray snow. The ceiling was a jagged wound torn open to the blood-red dusk, the sky roiling with smoke and arcane afterburn. The Watcher shoved its titanic form through the arched corridor, claws ripping into ancient stone, casting molten sparks that hissed as they hit your skin.

Wyll was bleeding, one hand pressed to his ribs, gritting his teeth to keep from groaning. Shadowheart was beside him, her limp worsening with every step, but she didn’t let go of him. Gale’s robes were singed, magic fizzling in his palms as panic made his usually methodical hands tremble. Lae’zel growled low, spitting blood to the ground and shifting into a fighter’s stance—despite the gash along her flank still seeping crimson. Karlach had taken a blow meant for Astarion, and now the vampire spawn was half-dragging her toward the breach in the rubble that led out—muttering every curse he knew and probably inventing a few more.

There was no time. Not with that thing charging. Not with the ceiling threatening collapse. Not with the way your friends were barely standing. And there was only one of you left upright between the Steel Watcher and the companions you loved like family.

You took a step forward.

“Go.” Your voice cracked like thunder across the chaos, cutting through groans and coughing and the whine of bent metal like a divine command.

They didn’t listen.

Of course they didn’t.

“No—absolutely not!” Shadowheart snapped, panic painted over her features. “We stay together!”

“Tav, don’t be a fool!” Gale shouted, and despite the fear in his voice, it still carried that sharp, academic scolding tone. “There’s no tactical advantage in martyrdom!”

“You will not die while I still draw breath!” Lae’zel snarled, teeth bared like a cornered beast. “Stand aside, I will strike it down myself if I must!”

“I just got these ribs fixed, Tav!” Karlach groaned from the floor. “You are not going out without me.”

Astarion’s voice rang clear over the bickering, laced with fury. “You absolute meat-headed idiot! You can’t punch a Steel Watcher to death!”

Then the Steel Watcher screeched. The sound was like a war horn forged in the depths of the Nine Hells. A claw the size of a wagon wheel arced down toward you with enough force to level a building—

And you caught it.

You caught it. With your bare hands.

The impact split the stone under your boots, your knees buckled for a moment—but you didn’t fall. Every muscle in your body screamed, tendons taut like drawn bowstrings. Sparks burst along your forearms as magic surged unbidden through you, skin burning with the contact of raw steel and searing heat.

But you held.

You held.

A gasp echoed behind you.

“You’re insane,” Gale breathed, his voice raw with disbelief.

“GO!” you roared, voice cracking like a whip. “Get out of here!”

“I will not leave you!” Lae’zel shouted, charging forward—but Karlach, of all people, snagged her arm and yanked her back.

“No,” Karlach hissed, voice tight with pain. “No. We have to go. They’re buying us time.”

Lae’zel screamed in rage.

“You’re a beautiful dumbass,” Karlach croaked. “I hate that this is working.”

“Get them out, Karlach,” you grunted, feet sinking a half inch deeper into the stone with every second. “That’s an order.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Astarion shouted. “You don’t get to die and leave us with her!” He gestured to Lae’zel, who snarled. “We’ll kill each other!”

Wyll’s voice finally broke through it all—hoarse, barely a whisper: “We’ll come back. I swear to you, we’ll come back for you.” His eyes were glassy. “Just—please. Don’t die while I’m not looking.”

You didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Your hands were blistering from the heat. The Watcher reeled back, preparing another strike. You dug your boots in, every vein in your body bulging as you forced it back an inch—just enough to shield the escape path behind you.

And then—finally—they ran.

Lae’zel had to be dragged, her screaming replaced by an eerie, guttural growl. Astarion practically carried Karlach. Gale tossed one last orb of protective shielding over you. Shadowheart looked back three times. Wyll didn't look back at all—his jaw set like stone, his hands white-knuckled at his sides.

You caught a last glimpse of their retreating silhouettes, disappearing into the fractured light, vanishing beyond the smoke and ash-choked exit.

And for one small second—

You smiled. It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t even courage. It was peace. Peace in knowing they’d live. That maybe this was your part to play.

The Watcher roared again. You squared your shoulders. Blood ran into your eye from a split brow, the air thick with the scent of ozone and your own burning skin. You looked up at the steel titan that dwarfed you. Met its glowing eyes with your own.

“Let’s dance,” you murmured.

Its claw came down again, and the temple lit up in a final, blinding blast of red light—

And then—

Silence.

Outside the ruins, the companions collapsed in a heap beyond the rubble, panting, bleeding, staring at the collapsed temple behind them.

“Tav…” Wyll whispered.

“Don’t,” Shadowheart murmured.

“I should have stayed,” Lae’zel hissed.

“You’d be dead,” Karlach rasped. “We all would be.”

Something fluttered down from the smoke.

A single piece of charred cloth. A feather, scorched around the edges. A dented coin once tied to your belt. Gale knelt and picked it up with shaking hands. Astarion turned away, shoulders stiff.

“I’m going back,” Wyll said suddenly. “Tonight. As soon as I can stand.”

“No,” Karlach replied, still staring at the ruins. “We’re going back.”

They didn’t know if you were alive. If you were buried beneath the rubble or standing in the heart of a crater, laughing like a lunatic. But they’d come for you.

Whatever was left.

Because that was the kind of person you were—the kind of love you gave.Unbreakable. Immovable.

Even when the world itself tried to crush you.

this was so fun to write and a nice break from the world. I will give you guys a heads up and say my inbox is a mess things are deleting itself then reappearing, messages are coming in multiples of five, it is basically on fire, so please be patient with me. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this, love you all! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[zeroseuniverse]

They (DO)N'T Care

Word Count: 918 Summary:“You hate a lot of things,” you murmur. “I don’t hate you,” he says, suddenly. “I think I did. But now I just… can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s driving me insane.” Pairing:Yuta X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

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Yuta always knew you were insufferable. Loud. Too quick-witted. Always saying the last word even when no one asked for it. Especially when he was the one talking.

Which is why it absolutely blew his mind that somehow—somehow—your entire friend group looked at the bickering, the sarcastic jabs, the constant petty one-upping and said: “They’re meant for each other.”

No, really. Meant for each other.

So when the group came up with a “totally rational” plan to get the two of you to stop fighting by forcing you into a fake relationship—just for a few weeks, just to test if all the tension could be “used for good”—Yuta was already laughing. Until he looked at you and saw that self-satisfied little smirk, like you already thought you’d win this whole thing.

And that? That made him say yes.

The very first “date” ends with you pushing fries into his mouth like a threat, hot sauce coating everything. Yuta, trying to look unaffected, ends up choking. Not a little cough—a full on wheeze. You pat his back with faux concern while he tries not to die.

“You good, babe?” you coo.

“I love it when you try to poison me,” he replies sweetly, tears streaming down his face. “Really brings us closer.”

Online, someone snaps a pic of you two mid-chaos, mid-laugh, and the comments are full of:

“They’re so in love omg” “Couple goals???” “The way he looks at them??? pls”

Yuta saves it. Ironically. Definitely not because you look good in it.

Definitely not.

The fake relationship goes on. You dig your nails into his hand whenever someone’s watching, turning romantic gestures into silent warfare. He sends you ugly selfies labeled “for the fans.” You prank each other daily. Rigging his shampoo bottle to explode in his face was your personal favorite.

But then—then there’s that day.

You walk into a group dinner with Jaehyun, laughing at something dumb he said. Nothing out of the ordinary, except Yuta sees the way Jaehyun leans just a little too close. Sees the way you touch his arm.

His blood runs hot.

When Jaehyun goes to grab your chair, Yuta swoops in and does it first.

“Thanks,” you say dryly, eyebrow raised.

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he says with venom-laced honey. “Wouldn’t want anyone else doing it.”

That night, you call him out. “Were you jealous?”

“Of Jaehyun? Please.”

But the next day, your contact name is suddenly changed in his phone from “Menace” to “MINE <3” and he doesn’t offer an explanation. You change his to “Clingy.”

The petty battles continue, but something shifts.

He starts walking you home after rehearsals. You bring him extra snacks because “no one wants to deal with you when you’re hangry.” He tells you to take breaks when you’re working too hard. You pretend not to notice how his voice softens when he says your name. He pretends not to stare when you nap on the couch with your head on his shoulder.

Then comes the party.

It’s nothing special—just another night, another excuse for everyone to get together—but you show up in something casual that somehow makes his brain shut off for a second. Someone tries to flirt with you. Yuta’s eyes narrow instantly.

The guy’s funny. He’s tall. He compliments your laugh, says something about your eyes. You smile politely, not even interested—but Yuta’s on fire.

He doesn’t even know when he crosses the room. Doesn’t remember how his arm ended up draped over your shoulder.

“You’re being weird,” you whisper to him.

He shrugs. “Just playing the part, babe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Sure you’re not jealous?”

“Why would I be?” His smile is tight. “It’s not like I care.”

But he does. And you know it.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen looking for water, and he corners you—no audience this time, no reason to keep pretending.

“What are we even doing?” he asks, voice low.

You blink. “What?”

“This—us.” He gestures vaguely. “I’m so tired of pretending this is just for show.”

You look at him carefully. “So stop pretending.”

He’s quiet. Then he says, “I don’t want anyone else looking at you like that. I hate it. I hate how easily you laugh at other people’s jokes. I hate how you look at them like they might matter.”

“You hate a lot of things,” you murmur.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, suddenly. “I think I did. But now I just… can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s driving me insane.”

Your breath catches.

“You really wanna do this?” you ask softly.

He closes the distance. “I’ve wanted to for weeks.”

And then he kisses you. Finally. It’s a little messy, a little angry, and a little desperate—because of course it is. But it’s also honest. Way too honest.

When you pull away, dazed, you whisper, “So we’re not faking it anymore?”

He huffs a laugh. “God, I hope not.”

The next morning, your friends greet you both with smug grins.

“Finally,” one says. “We were about to lock you in a closet.”

Yuta rolls his eyes and pulls you closer. “You’re all the worst.”

You lean against him. “But it worked.”

And even though you still bicker, still prank each other, still argue about who hogs the blankets—you also hold hands without trying to kill each other. You steal his hoodies. He kisses your forehead when he thinks no one’s looking.

It’s still chaos.

But it’s your chaos now.

And Yuta? He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[sillydestiny]

Hello haruhi! I'm new to your blog but I absolutely love your posts! My fav is the cale henituse fic "losing you" 😭

Seeing as your requests are open I was thinking if I could request a pinning! cale x f!reader. I don't know how much info/detail I should put into this but I had something around the idea of him just realizing he's in love with the reader with her being his closest confidant and always taking care of him and making sure he's alright! Maybe something cute and fluffy? A dash of angst if you feel like it?

I hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night!🤗

Blossoms of the Heart

Cale Henituse x Reader

2.2k words / fluff

The plaza terror incident had left chaos in its wake, but amidst the panic, Cale found an unexpected ally. As the boomers threatened to wreak havoc, a mysterious figure, concealed in a hood, used magic to shield the three boomers from causing further damage. Raon, the magical being accompanying Cale, was quick to sense this assistance.

"Human, human, there's also someone casting another magic! It's a magic barrier!" Raon's words echoed in Cale's mind, stirring his curiosity and concern.

With the information from Raon, Cale's mind raced

Who?

As the boomers were finally safe, Cale found himself coughing up blood, a sight that alarmed those around him. Unfazed, he assured them he was fine, typical of his nonchalant attitude towards his own well-being. Raon continued to communicate with Cale, revealing the figure who had aided them—a person who wore a hood that concealed their identity.

Cale's gaze swept the crowd as Raon's words lingered in his mind. Then, he spotted a figure, shrouded in a hood. A powerful gust of wind suddenly blew, causing the hood to fall, revealing a person of surprising strength and beauty. Cale, who rarely cared about appearances, couldn't help but notice the figure's attractiveness – pale skin, silky hair – a beauty that stood out even in the midst of chaos.

Raon, too, sensed the identity of the helper. "Human, that's him! That's the one who helped us earlier," Raon exclaimed in Cale's mind.

However, the mysterious figure swiftly retreated, as if aware of Cale's gaze. The fleeting encounter left Cale intrigued, and he turned his attention back to Taylor and the others who were still in a state of panic.

In a silent exchange with Choi Han, Cale conveyed his intention for Choi Han to investigate the mysterious helper. As Choi Han left to follow the figure, Cale couldn't shake the feeling that the person knew something crucial about the situation

-------

Later, after Choi Han successfully caught up with you, Cale finally had the opportunity to speak with you. The conversation unfolded, revealing that you, too, were in a similar situation—a transmigrator who fell asleep while reading a novel and woke up in this bewildering world.

Your words struck a chord with Cale as you explained, "Would you believe me if I said that I know because I read it in a novel before waking up here?" The revelation resonated deeply with Cale, who had experienced a similar phenomenon himself.

The air between Cale and the reader crackled with the weight of their shared experiences. Cale, contemplating the newfound revelation of another transmigrator, felt a strange connection forming between them. The realization that Kim Rok Soo, the man inhabiting Cale's body in another world, might be experiencing the same disorienting journey struck Cale with an uncanny sense of solidarity.

Amidst the conversation, Cale couldn't help but be intrigued by the dreams each harbored. When he asked the reader about their aspirations, the answer echoed with a simple desire for a normal and peaceful life. Cale, usually a proponent of a slacker lifestyle, found himself drawn to the similarities in their dreams.

As the reader calmly expressed their wish for a tranquil existence, Cale's mind raced with thoughts. He saw an opportunity, a mutually beneficial arrangement that could aid them both in navigating the challenges of this new world. Cale proposed a deal, the terms of which would be set by him, and the reader, composed and sipping tea, listened intently.

"What kind of deal?" the reader inquired, setting down their tea with a focused gaze.

Cale, his face stoic, laid out the terms. "You will be by my side in any situation that includes the plot."

The reader, adjusting their hair, responded with a calm acceptance, but with a condition of their own. "The terms of the deal can be set by you. I want one thing."

Cale, intrigued, asked, "What do you want in exchange?"

The reader's answer was simple yet profound. "Money."

Cale agreed to the deal without hesitation, recognizing the reader's strength in using magic. "You will accompany me, and in return, you'll receive financial support."

Little did he know that the reader, while reading "Birth of a Hero," had also delved into another novel— "The Trash of the Count's Family," featuring the main character, Cale Henituse. The reader kept this information to themselves, 

The reader kept this information to herself, knowing that revealing it might stir unintended consequences. Cale, after all, had strong opinions about being a main character, and she wasn't ready to disrupt the narrative in such a fundamental way.

As the deal was solidified, the reader couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. While she had desired a normal and peaceful life, the impending wars and conflicts on the horizon threatened to shatter that dream. With a sigh, she accepted the reality that her life in this new world would be more chaotic than anticipated.

"Well, I guess my life will be more chaotic as usual,"

Months and years had passed since the peculiar alliance between Cale Henituse and the reader began. Over this time, the reader had seamlessly integrated into Cale's world, becoming an unwavering presence by his side, supporting him in his endeavors and contributing her strategic acumen to their shared plans. The initial transactional nature of their partnership had evolved into a genuine camaraderie.

Within the past month, the reader had not only proven herself as a reliable ally but had also formed close bonds with Choi Han, Lock, and especially Rosalyn. The shared affinity for magic had quickly united the reader and Rosalyn, leading to collaborative experiments and the exchange of ideas. Their friendship grew rapidly, becoming a testament to the connections forged in the midst of their shared adventures.

A remarkable development occurred in the reader's relationship with the children—Hong, On, and Raon. At first, the trauma they carried made it difficult for them to approach the reader. However, displaying an understanding heart, the reader patiently broke through those barriers. Over time, she became a motherly figure to them, offering midnight snacks, gentle pets, and unwavering care. The children, once distant, now adored her, finding joy in just catching a glimpse of her figure.

While the reader's interactions with Cale were primarily bound by the terms of their agreement, a subtle undercurrent of something deeper began to flow. Cale, ever the pragmatic strategist, valued the reader for her calm demeanor and insightful contributions. As their alliance unfolded, he couldn't help but acknowledge the reliability and resourcefulness she brought to the table.

During moments of peril, when Cale overexerted his ancient power, the reader's concern for him was palpable. Despite knowing about the Vitality of the Heart that kept Cale safe, her worry was genuine, and Cale, in his own way, appreciated the sentiment.

Cale saw you as reliable ally you always calm and strategic mind when giving a plan or opinion to his plan and conaidering both of similar situation waking up to this world because of novel

interactions often revolved around shared goals and common enemies, where the reader's strategic mind proved invaluable to Cale's schemes. As plans unfolded and dangers loomed, Cale couldn't help but appreciate the reader's intellect and resourcefulness. Yet, amidst the chaos, the thought of a deeper connection lingered in the background, unnoticed by both parties.

Cale trust you.

As the months passed, a subtle transformation took hold of Cale Henituse, a man known for his nonchalant demeanor. Emotions, once foreign to him, began to bloom in the quiet corners of his heart. It was a strange yet exhilarating experience, one that he couldn't quite put into words. The presence of the reader seemed to be the catalyst, stirring a spectrum of feelings within him.

There were moments when Cale couldn't escape the fluttering sensation in his chest, especially when met with the warmth of your smile or the melodious notes of your laughter. The concern mirrored in your eyes during his darker hours resonated deeply with him. The reader, unbeknownst to themselves, had become more than just an ally; they were Cale's closest confidant, a pillar of support in the unpredictable landscape of his tumultuous life.

In the quieter moments, Cale found himself drawn to the reader's presence. There was an unspoken understanding, a connection that transcended the need for words. The reader possessed an innate ability to read him, to sense his unspoken thoughts and emotions. Their reassuring presence became a balm for his troubled soul.

Stolen glances became a regular occurrence, moments when Cale's gaze lingered a beat longer than usual, absorbing the details of your presence. The well-practiced facade of indifference crumbled during these stolen moments, revealing a softness that betrayed the depth of his emotions. Cale couldn't deny the warmth that enveloped him whenever you were around. It went beyond friendship, evolving into something deeper that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge until now.

Choi Han, Rosalyn, Ron, Raon, and the rest of the group began to notice the subtle changes in Cale's behavior. Choi Han, always observant, caught onto the small gestures first. Thoughtful gifts and considerate gestures, once foreign to Cale, became a silent expression of affection. Trinkets were discreetly slipped into the reader's possession, each one a carefully chosen token of his feelings.

Raon, Hong, and On, with their keen perception, also picked up on the shifts. They noticed the softening of Cale's eyes whenever the reader smiled, and the three little creatures couldn't help but share knowing glances amongst themselves.

The rest of the group observed the transformation in Cale's body language. Casual touches and lingering glances, the unconscious following of the reader's movements in a crowded room — all spoke volumes. Even Hans, the ever-discerning butler, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the newfound tenderness in Cale's interactions.

However, amidst all these observations and changes in Cale, the reader remained oblivious to the subtle transformation. The reader, focused on supporting Cale and navigating the challenges they faced, was unaware of the storm of emotions brewing in the young master's heart

Days later, Cale became aware of his feelings.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the expansive field. Flowers of various colors swayed gently in the evening breeze, their petals catching the last rays of sunlight. Cale Henituse and the reader found themselves on the outskirts of a quaint meadow, a tranquil haven away from the chaos of their unpredictable world.

Amidst the blossoms, the reader stood, captivated by a particularly exquisite flower. Their eyes traced the delicate petals, and a soft smile played on their lips. Cale, a silent observer, leaned against a nearby tree, watching the scene unfold. The ethereal quality of the moment seemed to amplify the connection between them, as if the universe conspired to create a canvas for emotions to unfurl.

There was a tender intimacy in the way the reader's fingers delicately brushed against the petals, in the way their eyes reflected admiration for the beauty before them. It was a snapshot of serenity, a moment that seemed to freeze in time, capturing the essence of something deeper.

Cale's gaze lingered on the reader, and in that stillness, realization dawned upon him like the first light of dawn. The way his heart fluttered as he observed the reader, the warmth that spread through his chest—it was more than admiration. It was a profound acknowledgment that the person before him had become an irreplaceable part of his world.

The subtle breeze rustled the leaves, and as the reader turned to meet Cale's gaze, there was a moment of unspoken understanding. Their eyes held a shared secret, a connection that transcended words. Cale, usually adept at navigating the complexities of life, found himself at a loss for how to articulate the emotions swirling within him.

As the reader approached, a question lingering in their eyes, Cale hesitated. The vulnerability of the moment gripped him, and for the first time, he struggled to find the right words. Yet, the truth hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, like the fragrance of the flowers around them.

"You have a way with flowers," Cale finally spoke, his voice softer than usual. It was a diversion, a subtle acknowledgment of the beauty before them and the emotions that danced in the spaces between their words.

The reader, attuned to the shift in the atmosphere, smiled knowingly. "Nature has its own way of expressing beauty," they replied, their gaze meeting Cale's with a warmth that mirrored the setting sun.

Cale, known for his pragmatic approach to life, found himself grappling with newfound emotions that defied logic. The term "love" had always been an enigma to him, a concept best left to the poets and dreamers. Yet, here he was, standing in a meadow as the realization dawned—the person who had once been a strategic ally had become the linchpin of his world.

Love had taken root in his heart, a delicate bloom that unfolded in the quiet moments amidst nature's beauty. The stoic facade that had defined Cale for so long began to crack, revealing a vulnerability that mirrored the fragile petals surrounding them. As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the meadow, Cale's heart echoed with the unspoken truth—he was in love.

"Hello Nacrise! Thank you for your request; I really appreciate it! I apologize for taking so long, as my mind was blank, and I couldn't fully think about the scenario I wanted. Thankfully, I've managed to finish it, and I hope you like it! if i have time i can make a part 2 of this!

[shutupineedtothink]

The Beauty and the Brutality - a quick analysis of the WoT S3 sneak peek

Wanted to share a few thoughts now that I’ve seen that opening clip a solid 7 or so times.

Off the top as always I am struck by the sheer volume of powerful women this show has. I can’t believe it isn’t talked about more on that basis alone, and I hope this season changes that because look at them!!! Holy shit.

Once you get past that (and to be clear, there is no getting past it, you just have to relegate that fact to a corner of your mind where you can separately freak out about it), the thing that most struck me about this opening clip was the beautiful brutality. Not two words you pair together often, but that’s what we have here. And it’s a super unique thing this show does that sets it apart - and I would say elevates it - from other current fantasy properties (let’s be real, RoP and HotD).

Let’s tackle these separately and then together. First, the brutality. This is a scene of 20 or so women just absolutely destroying each other. There’s no holding back. Somebody gets cut in half. Leane beats a woman to death with her staff. Siuan seems to be actively trying to destroy Liandrin from the inside out (more on that in a bit). There’s blood and stone everywhere.

They’re screaming, they’re throwing the one power around in insane ways, people are dying. Chaos, carnage, etc. It’s very striking in a room of exclusively women.

But then you have the beauty. Obviously, item #1, the looks. Dear god everyone is serving. EVERYONE. I need a full breakdown on every single one of these costumes. Like fuck if I don’t know Liandrin is a piece of shit but she looks so good that I want to root for her anyway!! The black and red swirl with the gold accents and the braids and the eye makeup— I digress.

I guess between the costumes and the one power effects what I’m struck by here is the use of color - not anything overly saturated but certainly distinct - in a way you would NEVER get in HotD for example, where the color palette is largely shades of dark colors and an overall dark tone. You know, the gritty realism thing. Which was fine for a while, but now bores me. RoP on the other hand uses color more liberally, but its going for more of that “everything you’re seeing could be taken straight from a renaissance painting” look - which is also cool and a choice that fits the property but arguably also something we’ve seen before from the Jackson films, which they are trying soooo hard to emulate.

WoT feels different. We have this distinct use of color and style - and camera/cinematography style - but it still somehow maintains a “realism” to it. Maybe because these women still look like women as opposed to Tolkien’s elves? Idk. Moving on.

Let’s talk about camera a little bit. This is another thing that falls in the “beauty” category for me. Some of those slow mo shots during the tower fight? Insanely beautiful. Composed. The from-on-high shot of Liandrin being hoisted up by the one power? Gorgeous. Even the slow mo of Siuan apparently crushing Liandrin from the inside and then her coughing up all that blood - gross, and yet somehow also beautiful!

My point is that this feels like something they’re really paying attention to so that the show looks and feels different from anything else. And honestly such a power move to start the season, because if I was coming at this without having seen the previous seasons, I would look at this and be like yeah that looks fucking awesome and like nothing else I’ve seen recently, sign me up. So I really hope they get people on board with this clip.

Idk I guess there’s just something about 20 beautiful women dressed for the gods going for each others necks without reserve or remorse that speaks to me.

[somewhat-insane]

9 headed demon x GN!reader

K

Kissing headcannons please,,

First off, congrats on being my first writing request🎉! Second. Absolutely~

~Nine-Headed Demon x GN!reader: Kissing headcanons!~

Tags: Headcanons, smoochin', like... just a lot of smoochin', can it be considered fluff if he won't stop biting you?

!!Warnings!!: S5 spoilers, possessive character, biting

First off, good luck, he's a biter

Like a... draw blood just because he can kind of biter

Constantly biting your lower lip

Beware if he's kissing your neck because there's a huge chance he'll start biting it

In my previous headcanon post, I said he didn't like PDA buuuuuut I kind of lied

He doesn't like it when you initiate PDA (indifferent, more accurately), but he'll kiss you or hold you or put you on his lap wherever you are just because he wants to show you off like his trophy

The first few times he'll ask but, after that, he'll just randomly appear and suddenly his tongue is in your mouth

He likes having control

Despite that, he can't control his nine dragon heads while kissing you (poor boy just gets so happy to have his treasure) give them a rat or something to chew on to distract them... Only if you're okay with getting a little bit of blood on you.

Cooking? Nope, now you're kissing him

Saw you talking to someone else and he got jealous? He's not even going to do the whole, casually walk up and say "hey, babe, who's this?" he's just going to immediately make out with you in front of that person (he loves making them feel awkward and uncomfortable)

Romantic kissing in private and dominant kissing in public

"Babe, they can't know I actually love you or they'll try and take you away," he'll explain while holding you and kissing your cheeks

Whispering praises and ideas about what the two of you will do after making it to the chaos between kisses

Unlike certain other characters (*cough cough* Wukong and Mac) he's more secure in the idea you love him (obviously you do because "everyone else in this world is an idiot",) so he's not as receptive to you giving him kisses (he's mostly just happy to have you around and on his side) however, he will be upset if you don't have any reaction to him giving you kisses

He likes making you whimper and squirm; in softer moments, he wants to hear you giggle and see you blush!

If you normally don't react that way then he'll get used to it but if you do and then suddenly don't, it's one of the only times he'll outwardly show any of his insecurities to you

Kissing and cuddling in the morning is the most affectionate he'll be, the warmth of the sun coming in through the window and your body pressed against his makes him feel fuzzy for a bit (he's a reptile and therefore most likely cold-blooded, he likes using you like his personal heater)

"What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough anymore? Did you find someone better?"

Will act like he "wasn't worried at all" after you reassure him

~

Hopefully this lives up to any expectations! This is only my third time writing a headcanon post and, like I said, my first time writing for a writing request, so I still haven't really found the groove yet. I digress, thank you for requesting!!

[irishmammonagenda]

Hi girl!!!

I have this idea running around in my head for so long. Can you write the demon bros with little sister reader (around the teenage year)? Hear me out. She's the 8th of the family which means she's the youngest. The brothers must be overprotective of her and they would love her so much. Lucifer would have a soft spot for her. She and Mammon would be partners in crime. Then Satan will help her with her study and Asmo will love to help her do her hair. That's it 😁

Btw I love your writing...

hihi! yeah ofc i can! <3

as per usual I had no idea where this was going🧍‍♂️

but this was super fun to write as well

grma for the ask! <3

[Amazing Title]-Obey Me Brothers + Little Sister! Reader

Summary: The brothers except MC's their wee sister ig, chaos ensues. Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: Mentions of Death, Female Reader (she/her pronouns used) MC changes her hair length and colour when she feels like it, also she has a crush on some rando idek,

dividers by @cafekitsune

Lucifer was sick to his stomach. Long broken wings attempted to flap, ivory feathers turning black. Wounds open and bleeding. Shooting through stormy skies like a dying star.

His eyes burnt, the speed of his fall making it almost impossible to take in a breath. His lungs burnt. His heart hurt. He hadn´t understood death until Cain took the Rock to Abel, until Father took the scepter to Lilith.

Was he going to die?

He was falling.

As he tore through the sky at a damned pace, he caught a glimpse of warm bronze skin, unusually cold, stained with blood as red as the long crimson hair of his sister.

Despite the pain, despite the strain in his broken, burnt wings, he used the last of his willpower, the last of his strength, to get to the young girl.

He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her close to his chest, attempting to shield her from the fall.

"Luci?-" Lilith chokes out weakly, skin greying, holding onto her brother like a lifeline, one that was getting further away, as her grip slowly loosened. "Luci...I-im scared..."

"D-...don't be..." Lucifer manages to choke out. He could see some sembelance of land now. Some sembelance of an end to the torture of just....falling. "I'll protect you, L-Lilith."

He held on tight to her as he braced for impact, not registering that his little sister had died in his arms, that six wings became two.

He lost conciousness for a moment, hardly lucid, coming to moments later. The ringing in his ears didn't stop.

He coughed up dirt. Dust cleared to reveal two demons, as he looked around he saw crimson everywhere. Filthy fuil dearg coated the crater he'd created. Lucifer scrambled up, staring at the mangled form of what used to be his sister. Not noticing a pair of his wings at his feet. They didn't matter.

He screamed. Gently cradling the corpse, looking up at the Demon Prince with eyes filled with firey fearg, "Save her! Bring her back! Help her..!" He shouts, anger fading to desperation.

The prince regards him with a sort of impassivity, after backs and forths and emotions unravelling, the Demons agree to revive his precious sister as a human, provided Lucifer swears his loyalty, makes a vow with a heavy heart.

"I Lucifer Morningstar....swear absolute loyalty to Lord Diavolo, Prince of Hell."

"Very good."

With a snap of the Demon Butler's finger, his sister disappeared, a screech erupted, but it wasn't from Lucifer. Turning behind him, the disgraced angel saw one of the wings he had barely registered splitting from him---too focused on the pain of losing his sister than the pain of losing his wings,-- the now black mass of feathers morphed and grew like bubbling tar, emitting screeches.

The creature that formed of it, pale of skin, blond of hair, its face contorted in a pain Lucifer felt was a part of him. The demon races, screeching with a fury unbridled. Destruction followed it.

The Demon Prince and Butler watch on with intrigue whilst Lucifer tries to keep from breaking down a second time. The sound of whistling through the air alerts him of his other brothers falling. He looks up, hoping to see where they landed.

Somewhere amongst the vast Devildom. He had to find them. He couldn't handle another death, another loss. Despite his disgrace, his deportation from the only home he'd ever known, he prays to Father one last time, that his brothers were alive.

"There's no need. I will attend to the fallen angels now." The butler says serenely, both him and the Demon Prince disappearing within a moment's notice. Although the latter was more hesitant.

The creature of his wing is still screeching, like a coyote on the prowl, but inherently more sinister. It bites and screams, eyes filled with a murderous rage, one it directs towards Lucifer, as it comes charging at him like a bull of the plaza de toros.

Lucifer takes a step back, His foot hitting something soft and quishy. He pauses, the thing cries. The wails of a newborn cutting through the thick air like a knife, the creature of his wing stops screeching, tilting its head and staring down at the ground.

Lucifer gently picks you up. Cradling you in his arms. He looks to both you and the Creature of Wrath, both so inherently different, both his.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, such a tiny demon, more suited to be an angel, so unlike the pure cantankerousness of the older of the two creatures of his wings.

Lucifer, in the throws of his grief, made two vows that day, the first an oath of absolute loyalty to the Demon Prince, the second, a móid to always protect you.

You tapped your pen against the desk, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your textbook. Shoulder length black hair tied in a low ponytail so it wasn't pouring over your face as you worked. You sighed in defeat, set your pen down and looked up at your two older brothers who were sitting opposite you, and planning out what looks to be another failed prank.

Satan and Belphie had their heads together, murmuring rather animatedly amongst eachother. You snorted, leaning over the table, your sudden movement catches their attention as you stare up at them, your head tilted.

"What about a whoopie cushion?" You ask softly, Belphie makes a face.

"We are not using...human...pranks, we're demons." He snorts, "We have more class than that."

You pout, Satan pinches him from under the table. His green eyes looking dotingly at you, like he would a cat. Coincidentally, he pats your head, ruffling your hair. "I think a simple human world prank could be entertaining to try." He says, giving Belphie a look, the Seventh Born raises his hands lazily in defeat, before leisurely sliding over the table to sit beside you, you quickly flipped to a blank page in your notebook, lest your older brother see the doodles you'd absentmindedly scribbled of you and your crush, a demon from your Devildom History Class.

Satan writes 'Whoopie Cushion' in cursive on their blueprint plans, tongue sticking out ever so slightly, before going back to his own homework. Belphie leans his head on your shoulder, dozing off.

"How did Fear Gorta come to fruition as an entity in the Human Realm?" You read off of your paper, Satan looks up from his essay for seductive speechcraft--a class which you were too young to take--he blinks for a moment, before setting his fountain pen down, and taking up the seat on the other side of you.

Belphie looks over at you tiredly, stretching his arms.

"Need any help?"

"Need any help?"

They glare at each other playfully, you nod.

Satan takes the textbook from you for a moment, reading the question aloud again.

"Fear Gorta are said to rise from Féar Gortach....sometimes they're just people who died of starvation near Sídhe hills." Satan begins to explain, watching as you nod along.

"They were said to go around with a bowl for begging or almsgiving...travelling, knocking on doors, asking for food." Belphie interjects lazily, head still on your shoulder. "They could hardly keep the bowl from dropping, because they were so weak."

You nod, writing it down, you'd always had trouble simplifying long texts down to their key parts, something Lucifer had assured you would come with time. It was a good thing you had your brothers. They were always willing to help you with homework.

"But what about that has to do with the Fear Gorta coming to fruition in the Human Realm?" You ask, feeling a little dumb.

Satan clears his throat, "Well, some Devildom and Human Scholara believe that the Fear Gorta is what brought the Famine to Ireland. Supposedly, just before the Great Famine, he emerged after a battle of the Fae near Cnoc Meadha."

You scribble that down, your tongue sticking out slightly, an idiosyncrasy developed from your older brother.

Belphie hums, eyes closed, and breathing so even you thought he was asleep. "Mhm, but others believe he's a personification of An Gorta Mór, or the Great Famine himself. That the people of Ireland made him up during the 1840s as a way of coping with and explaining the potato blight."

Upon seeing your confused face, Satan chuckles, "Essentially, the Fear Gorta is an example of how Human suffering can cause mythological beings to be thought up, and how with enough Human Manifestation, they can truly become something that exists."

As if to emphasize, Satan takes a random pen and a scrap piece of paper, drawing little doodles with the summarising he and Belphie had just did.

"Thanks Satan! Thanks Belphie!" You grin, taking the scrap piece of paper, using it to help you jot down the rest of your notes, finally understanding, you begin to answer the question, making a mental note to not let Mammon see the drawings that Satan drew, ever.

It takes a total of ten minutes of pens scratching against paper, Belphie's soft snores, and the dull drill of your own thoughts before you set your pen down, and look up grinning at Satan.

"So...about the prank you're planning..."

The next morning, all decked out in your RAD uniform, you sit on a poof and stare at your reflection in the luxurious vanity. You had decided on long hair, a dark pink so deep it was almost red. That was one of the búntáistí of having the Avatars of Lust and Wrath as brothers, you knew all the best spells for hair, and boy did you exploit that fact.

Short hair? No problem. Long hair? Alright then. Curly? Straight? Wavy? Ask and you shall receive.

Not to mention, Asmo would style your hair, no matter the length, shade or texture, and he would always make it look gorgeous Which was exactly what he was doing now, a gentle comb being ran down your hair, before your brother begins to braid strands in an intercate half-up, half-down pattern.

It's always relaxing when your 5th oldest brother does your hair, always conscious of not hurting you, you let your mind wander.

And wander your mind does, twisting and turning while travelling through the crevices of your brain, eventually coming to a stop at its destination, which just so happened to be the demon in your Devildom History class. They made you feel giddy, with their shoulder length, layered turquoise hair and purposely messy black eye shadow in place of the usual clean cut liquid eyeliner.

"Something on your mind, hon?" Asmo asks concerned as he puts a soft, black bow in your hair, you had been unfocused for a while now.

"Its nothing!" You say a little too defensively, your older brother gives you a knowing look, perfectly threaded eyebrows raising ever so slightly before he gasps and grins excitedly, holding back a squeal.

"Oh!~ And just who is this nothing, honey?~" He asks, you cover your face in your hands and groan, mortification dripping over you as Asmo finishes up on your hair.

Once your hair is done, you rush out, so as not to give the Avatar of annoying you lust any more ammo to tease you with.

Unluckily for you, Asmo was very environmentally friendly, and could make his own ammo.

Your mortification however, is not as short-lived as you'd hoped it would be.

Upon entering the dining room, you make a beeline for Mammon, your partner in crime, and sit beside your 2nd oldest brother, who laughs at you.

"Ye look like yer goin' to a Feis!" He laughs, slapping his knees ad doubled over, you pout and Lucifer, who sat directly diagonal to Mammon at the head of the table slapped him up the back of the head, leaving the avatar of greed choking and spluttering on his own spit.

"S-sorry MC..." He says in between coughs, "Ya look lovely..." He gives you an awkward side hug before resuming his activity of choking to death. You turn to the rest of your brothers as they trickle in, Levi was having an anime marathon, and for the sake of the Devildom seas, and the House of Lamentation not flooding for the nth time, he was allowed to stay in his room, provided he ate something of nutritional value, which meant that some time in the next few hours Lucifer would come into the 3rd born's room with a bowl of freshly cut fruit and force the otaku to eat it.

He was such a mother hen.

Speaking of Lucifer....

"MC," Lucifer drawls, catching your attention. "I received your bi-weekly report last night, you did well in all subjects, though I've noticed your History scores have gone down..." Your eldest brother sets his fork down fully and leans in a little closer to you, only a little bit of concern and a whole lot of care in his eyes, no judgement whatsoever. "Are you not understanding the course material? Would you like me to help you with your work? Or we could get you a tutor."

Asmo leans in to your conversation, eye glittering mischievously, he had taken a little longer to come down to breakfast than he usually did. You were sure he eliminated all of the options and knew exactly what demon you were crushing on.

"Now now Luci!~" He interjects, earning a soft glare from Lucifer, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, MC's just a little bit....distracted..." He puts his hands on your shoulders.

Lucifer's eyes widen ever so slightly, Belphie and Satan exchange knowing glances, Beel blinks slowly, were you having trouble focusing in class?

Mammon discreetly opens his DDD under the table, if you were having trouble focusing, he knew a few guys who sold some pretty good remedies for that.

You groan, quickly scarfing down the rest of your breakfast before grabbing Mammon and running out the door, your older brother yelling in confusion.

6 other brothers watch you leave, before turning to Asmo.

Belphie is the first to speak, "Alright, who is it?"

"Who's what?" Beel tilts his head, Belphie turns to him with a smile.

"MC has a crush on someone in her History class."

"Oh, okay." Beel turns to Asmo, "Who is it?"

You and Mammon arrive at RAD unusually early, on account of you essentially fleeing the breakfast table like an escaped convict and dragging your brother with you.

Mammon wasn't annoyed at all, despite his outward act, in actuality, he was delighted. You had picked him to drag out of a chair and run with you?! That meant he must be your favourite big brother! His chest puffs out with pride as you both chatter whilst he walks you to your form class. What type of favourite big brother would he be if he let his little sister walk down the scary hallways of school alone?!

"And then Satan said-" You stop uncerimonously when you catch sight of who's at the other end of the corridor, a blush coating your cheeks, barely noticeable on your skin, hardly even there, but Mammon still picked up on it.

"Hey, twerp, what's up wi' ye?" He asks, examining the hallway, taking notice of the only other demon there.

With a baggy dark denim jacket adorned in pins pulled over their RAD uniform, headphones snapped over their ears, messy turquoise hair cascading down their tanned face. The demon is young--Mammon notices--they look around the same age as you, maybe slightly older.

As they get closer and spot MC, they grin, silver braces shining in the light of the RAD hallway. "Hiya MC! You´re in early!" The demon calls out to you, Mammon notes how you swallow thickly before waving shyly at the demon in question as they approach the pair of you.

The demon goes to rub their eyes, but upon remembering the messy yet purposeful placement of black eyeshadow acting as eyeliner, they stop and pout for just a moment before looking at MC and grinning, eyes as grey as stone flickering to Mammon for just a moment, the demon looks to you and raises one of their thick, dark eyebrows.

"This one of your brothers, MC?" They ask, gaze flickering between you and your brother like a faulty lightbulb.

"O-oh uh...yes! Mammon this is C-Caelus....Caelus this is Mammon..." You introduce them.

"Oh, please, call me Cael, everyone does!" They smile politely at Mammon reaching out to shake his hand, Mammon, bites the inside of his cheek to stop his jaw from dropping. You had a....crush on Cael didn't you?"

"Oh aye." Is all he can manage to say.

Cael nods, before turning completely to face you, they eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, "So, how come you're in early today?..Nice hair by the way!" They run a hand through their dark turquoise hair, messing it up with their long fingers.

"Oh uh thanks Cael!" You bite your lip, trying to figure out what to say next. "I was thinking of getting in early and studying for the test next week...." You lie, though it did sound like a good idea. No way were you explaining the fiasco that was Breakfast.

Mammon watches like a crow, stopping himself from cooing. You were so adorable! His favourite little dickhead's first crush! They grow up so fast!

He cringes internally, thinking, 'What the actual fuck, I sound like Asmo.'

After another moment, he interupts your conversation to tell you that he needs to go, you nod and say goodbye, before continuing to talk to Cael and trying to keep your blushing under control.

Mammon tredges to the courtyard before whistling.

"Hiya Éan!" He coos to the crow that lands perched on his shoulders, the bird looks unamusedly at him, its been a year and the avian was still judging him for the name choice! "Oh stop yer yappin'...." At the unimpressed look Éan gives him, his eyelid twitches. "Well, I know yer gurnin' internally...don't think I'm dim."

Éan caws.

"Look, I need ye ta do somethin' for me, so I do." Mammon groans at the crows shaking of its head. "I'm not askin' ye to assassinate anyone! I just need ye to keep an eye on this one wee demon in m'sister's class..."

Éan blinks, before leaning in closer to Mammon, he pets its head, it leans into the touch.

"Right so listen up, their name's Caelus...but people call 'em Cael...I need ye to keep an eye on them and give me a report back in a day or so, we clear?"

Éan lets out a quiet caw.

"Great!"

After a long day of RAD, you waled into the attic, where Satan and Belphie were unboxing whoopie cushions. Or rather Satan was unboxing whoopie cushions and Belphie was watching him lazily.

"Hi MC." Belphie smiles at you before gesturing to sit beside him, so you do.

"I thought you said my human world pranks were stupid." You look at Belphie.

"I've decided that since I'm such a good role model, I'll give it a go."

You deadpan, about to say something before a bellowing laugh erupts from Satan.

"You? A good role model?" The 4th born wipes a tear from his eye. "What's next? Lucifer breaking up with Lord Diavolo?"

"I don't think they're dating Satie…" You butt in.

Belphie smirks, "Then why are they so gay?"

"He is the Avatar of Pride, I guess." You shrug.

And with that, Satan picks up the whoopie cushion and the three of you begin your descent down the staircase to Lucifer's office. With you making small talk to distract them from Asmo's words in the morning.

You reach Lucifer's office, but now you need to draw him out. Satan walks in.

"Hello Lucifer."

"Your prank's not going to work." Lucifer puts his pen down.

Satan puts a hand over his heart in mock offence. "No, I saw a cat on the streets walking home and I want to adopt it." He says, not even lying.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't need one."

Satan feels wrath bubble up inside him, before he makes a risky move, knowing he needs Lucifer out of his office so you can place the whoopie cushion. "Well if I don't need a cat then you don't need your paperwork!"

He reaches forward and grabs the official documents on Lucifer's desk then bolts.

Lucifer jolts up out of his seat and races after him, out of the office.

That's your cue, quick as a thief on the hunt, you run into your eldest brother's office, and place the whoopie cushion down on his seat, you did it!

"Are you having fun, MC?" Lucifer asks, you jump. Turning around you see a slightly disheveled Lucifer staring at you, eyebrow raised and holding slightly crinkled papers. You back away.

"I wasn't doing anything!" You lie obviously.

"Hmm. Sure….now as for your punishment….I've already strung Satan up in the enterance hall, and I'm certain Belphie has gone somewhere to sleep, when he wakes up he will be appropriately disciplined of course…." He moves closer to you. "Now as for you….." Lucifer clicks his fingers and a desk and chair appear, the waves of magic pushing you into it.

You're going to sit there until I've finished my work. No DDD."

You groan, but don't complain, if it was anyone else out of your brothers, Lucifer would have strung them up like he did with Satan.

An hour goes by, though it seems like several to you, as you're bored out of your mind. Lucifer sets his pen down and stares at you.

"Now, tell me about this Caelus."

You stiffen, knowing better than to lie to your eldest, and strictest brother. "They uh-they're a demon in my class…"

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, "And what's this I'm hearing about you having a crush on them?"

"Asmo!" You gurn, covering your face in your hands.

"Asmo and Mammon, actually." Lucifer's lips twitch upwards. "Do you have anything to day for yourself?"

"I won't do drugs."

"MC."

"Okay fine! They're a good demon, I promise! I don't even know if I wanna ask them out yet!"

Lucifer's eyes soften, seeing you now, sitting at a desk, complaining about love…he can't help but be reminded of a different person in a different realm long ago, long passed.

"I trust you, but be careful, okay?"

You nod, something churns in Lucifer's stomach as he looks at you, gracefully moving over to you, and pulling you into a soft hug, arms wrapping around you protectively, as if shielding you from the elements.

"And if ever, you need any help whatsoever, come to me? You understand?"

You nod.

"Say it."

"I understand Luci."

Lucifer smiles, ruffling your hair. "I will always protect you MC."

AND WE'RE DONE!!! this was honetly fun to write, i had no idea where i was going with this and i'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense 🧍‍♂️

fuil (pronounced 'full') means blood, móid (maw-d-ge) means vow or promise, 'to make a vow' would translate to 'móid a thabhairt' (maw-d-ge ah how-ert-ch)

éan (pronounced 'ane') means bird. idk i thought it was funny

[seth-whumps]

How about 'haze'? Please and thank you!

Needle mention, sedatives and a whumpee who should not be awake yet in this one:

--

Something beeps in a faraway place.

Whumpee considers the sound. It's not like... a car crash, or a train horn. Nothing so abrupt. It's... softer. Gentler. Like a steady drop of water from a faucet, or the gentlest breeze pushing two wind chimes together in the windowsill.

In other words, it's absolutely infuriating.

Fighting through the haze is like swimming through maple syrup, though, and Whumpee reckons with how slowly this consciousness is coming back to them. How long were they in the state of just barely hearing the sound?

It's grating, now. Despite its quietness, it feels like a spike through their chest. Whumpee wants to turn it off, somehow, but it's so damn far away...

The beep quickens. Aggravated. Whumpee feels a harsh breath leave their lips, and their chest aches at the sound, they need to wake up, to open their eyes, to--

To--

"Gnk--"

Like throwing themself at a wall, their eyes snap open and it hurts. It hurts, so bad, like fire through their ribs. They gasp in another breath, and an involuntary whimper spins in their throat.

"Hey, Whumpee--"

"--awake? Already!?"

"--need to relax, you'll pull the IV out--"

"Call the nurse!"

Almost immediately, the haze is preferable to the chaos. They breathe, something ragged and inflamed, hands tightening in the fabric. And the infernal beeping grows louder, and faster, and--

And it's gone.

It's gone.

It's... quiet.

Except for a slight, quiet beeping in a faraway place.

--

vote coughing up blood in this poll, send me proof and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!

[tmntfixationxreader]

"Hiya!!! Do you think you can do some sort of angst/comfort fic with the rise boys of comforting a they/them reader who’s struggling with getting an injury cleaned/a bone set?"

Absolutely! Sorry this one took me so long to do. Hope you enjoy!

♡Bone setting♡

This contains Rottmnt Movie Spoilers.

~Platonic Rottmnt x Gender neutral Reader~

Summary: After the Krang invasion, everyone needs medical attention, including you.

Warnings: Pain, slight blood, angst + comfort, slight language? Reader description advised.

Word count: 1,855

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“L-Leo!!” Mikey called out, holding Leo in a death grip, the two collapsed on the ground in a sweaty mess.

Leo winced, grunting once, patting Mikey on the head gently with his good arm.

“Good-to-see-you-too-Mikey,” Leo muttered, but it came out as a muffled sler. Leo coughed, sending bolts of pain through his body as red dribbled down his lips.

Donnie’s eyes widened and Raph was starting to panic.

Mikey had golden burns glistening on his arms, rectangular patterns etched into his skin from the overpower in his mystic energy. Donnie had the same etched purple burns on his right arm, and Raph had them on his left in red.

Despite the burns on his arms Mikey continued to squeeze Leo as hard as he could, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Donnie had tears rolling down his cheeks too, his expression emotionless as his eyes betrayed him.

Raph scooped Leo and Mikey into a hug, yelling as he held back sobs. “Leo- don’t you EVER do that again!”

Donnie sank to his knees, hugging Leo and Mikey as Raph squeezed them all.

April ran up to them with a horrified look on her face, Spinter wobbling behind her looking tired and panicked, Casey on their heels, his face tear streaked.

“Master Leonardo!!” Casey shouted.

“Leo!!” April called out, immediately joining the brothers in a death-grip of a hug.

Casey hesitated, eyes wide. “Is he…?”

“I’m not- mph- dead yet Casey…” Leo muttered, and a huge wave of relief washed over all of them.

Donnie sat bolt right up from the hug, looking around at April and Splinter.

“Y/n…?” He asked, wide eyed, standing up quickly before wincing and gripping his arm, only making it sting even more.

April looked around. “Y/n!!” She called, walking and looking out at the chaos.

You were with April and Splinter when they were fighting off one of the Krangs… They had made sure you were following when they started off towards the brothers, but….

Everyone looked panicked.

Mikey looked up from Leo’s shoulder, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Y/n- w-what’s wrong with them-” Leo muttered, coughing harshly again, his brain going fuzzy.

“Leo- don’t talk, don’t move,” Donnie hissed at him, seeming even more panicked and overwhelmed then he already was. He shook his hands a little and exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself.

“April- where did you last see them?” Donnie asked, shaking from the extremely stressful and scary situations they had just been through.

Raph, even though it was taking everything for him to keep himself together after what just happened, noticed Donnie.

“D, calm down… I’m sure they are just-” Raph started.

“Guys!!” You yelled over to them, one hand across your ribcage, your other arm loosely hanging at your side. “Just had to- mph- stop for a second…”

You slowly made your way to them, April running up meeting you halfway.

“I thought I lost you!” She hugged you, and you winced loudly.

She pulled back immediately. “Y/n, you…?” She muttered.

You looked out at the brothers, wide eyed at how messed up they all looked. “Leo- d-did he make it back?”

April nodded. “We need to get him to the lair… But he’ll live… How bad are you-?”

“We need to get them home… I’m not hurt badly, just a little… bruised,” You muttered, arm still clinging to your ribcage. You lied. You had lied to April, just to keep her and the others from worrying. They were clearly more hurt than you. They needed medical attention first.

It was hard to tell what exactly was hurting within you. Your ribcage stung, a painful sharp sensation that hit you in the gut with every breath. Your other arm… You didn’t even want to guess its condition. You could move it a little… But not much else without the shaper pains setting in further. Your good arm was preoccupied clutching your ribs, so you couldn’t exactly help to fix them up, either.

April nodded quickly and the two of you rushed over the brothers. You were much slower than April in your condition, but to keep them from worrying you kept a pace.

You and the turtles were hurt badly.

As you held open the back hatch of the back-up turtle van, Raph carried Leo, who was biting his tongue to prevent from making noise, setting him in the backseat.

This was going to be a long night…

Leo was propped up on a medical bed, somewhere between high on medications and painfully awake, but patched up. His voice was raw and scratchy from dust and yelling, and he was tired out of his mind.

Donnie had his arm and soft shell patched up, a crap-ton of disinfectants poured onto his shell to prevent possible infections.

Raph’s arm was wrapped, an eyepatch over one eye that the Krang had taken over. All the Krang-parts that had been infected and taken over were wrapped up, Krang now gone but wounds still there.

Mikey’s arms were wrapped up, all the way past his elbows and almost to his shoulders.

You had brushed off Casey and April’s medical attention until everyone else had been fixed up, and by then you were dead tired. Your arm was swollen and hurt to even think about, your ribcage sucking the air out of your lungs with each shaking breath. You leaned against the doorway, watching April and Casey finish with Leo’s cracked shell.

Casey whipped his brow. “Ok… Leo’s finished for now…” He muttered with a sigh, seeming exhausted. He hadn’t slept since he had come through to this timeline, not to mention the days of survival beforehand.

April immediately turned her attention to you. “Ok, your turn…”

You wanted to argue, but with how hard your ears were throbbing from pain, you couldn’t. Everyone else had already received medical attention, so it was your turn anyways.

April had you sit down on the bed, Casey using some of Donnie’s tech to scan you.

Donnie (and Leo but they forbid him) wanted to help with medical stuff, but everyone had put him on bedrest. Luckily Casey knew how to use Donnie’s tech because of the training he had gotten in his past timeline.

Casey hesitated as the laser-scanner scanned your rib cage and arm.

April’s eyes widened. “Y/n- how the heck are you still walking around?”

Casey gave her a quick look or warning to keep you from possibly panicking. “I-it’s not too bad… just a little… Worse for ware.”

You groaned. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Casey rubbed the bridge of his nose before sighing again, the immense bags under his eyes seeming to show themselves more.

“We have to set your arm… And wrap up your ribcage…” He said, looking over the scan. “Commander- er… April, we need some wraps… And possibly another set of hands..”

April nodded, going over to a cabinet to get out the medical supplies. Donnie and Raph nodded as well, ready to help.

“Wait, setting it…? Like with Leo’s leg?” You swallowed. You had watched the process of bone-setting they had done on Leo’s leg. It took Raph, Donnie, and April to hold Leo down while Casey set the fracture. It was loud and hard to watch, and they had insisted you wouldn’t help with your arm being in its condition. By the end of it Donnie was really overwhelmed and Raph helped ground him again, but it took a bit.

Casey nodded. “Yes… The others will help to stabilize you while I set your arm.”

You nodded a little.

Casey walked over to your injured side, pulling down an old pair of Donnie’s goggles so he had an X-ray of your arm.

Raph, April and Donnie stood around you. Mikey stood nearest to the head of the bed, unable to help hold you while his arms were wrapped but still being with you.

“You got this Y/n…” Mikey said, and the others nodded in agreement while Casey looked over the fracture one more time.

“Ok.. On the count of three,” Casey said.

“Deep breath,” Donnie helped to instruct.

You did as he said, taking a deep breath in as Casey counted to one.

“Two…” He said, and everyone helped to hold you.

Right as you took a deep breath in, Casey finished his count.

You barely heard the word three as he started setting the fracture, everything else being muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The others held you as your body naturally reacted and fight or flight kicked in. They were strong enough to easily be able to hold on to you to keep you still.

The whole process only lasted a few painfully long seconds, and by the end of it your voice was raw and blood pounded in your ears.

“There…That’s it- it’s done…” Casey said, his voice weaverying from stress and exhaustion.

Everyone let go of you as soon as Casey said the word, still staying by your bedside.

“It’s over now…” Raph said, patting your good arm.

Mikey wiped away a tear attempting to trail down your face. “No more… Now it can heal…” He whispered, his voice tight with nervousness from throughout the day.

Donnie stepped back and let himself take a few deep breaths before patting your good shoulder. He nodded to you, not saying anything because he was overwhelmed by everything that had happened from the day.

Leo had his head turned so he could look at you. He gave you a smile that made it clear he was fighting off sleep medications.

After a bit of calming back down Casey did a few more scans on your ribs and deemed they were badly bruised but would heal on their own. He put your arm carefully in a cast, and gave you painkillers for the night.

April sat down on the bed next to Donnie, patting his shoulder as she fought off exhaustion.

“Does that mean everything is addressed?” She asked, and Casey gave her a nod.

“Everything that can be… Now we are just waiting for things to heal,” Casey said, leaning against the wall between the medical beds you and Leo were on.

He checked Leo’s IV, making sure it was still flowing properly. Leo was already passed out, snoring a little now that the painkillers had kicked in and it was safe for him to sleep.

Raph was on the fourth medical bed, Mikey asleep on his lap, snoring against Raph’s good arm.

Raph sighed. “So now what?”

“We sleep it off…” Donnie signed instead of speaking. “Until tomorrow at least…”

April nodded, stretching out on the foot of the medical bed. “Sounds like a plan…” She muttered.

You nodded too, eyes growing heavy already. You stayed in the same position they had told you to stay in to prevent straining your ribs or pulling on your arm.

Soon everyone was dozing off, Splinter keeping watch to make sure someone didn’t roll over onto their casts or need medical treatment in the middle of the night.

Everyone was healing, finally getting the rest everyone deserved.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Bye bye butterflies!!