#just... rambling and trying to let my feelings out

[sabrina-senpai]

Saja boys w/ fem manager reader who explains periods to them;

Character/s: Jinu, Romance, Abby, Baby & Mystery

Character pairings: Jinu/you, Romance/you, Abby/you, Baby/you & Mystery/you

A/N: Characters may be ooc, writing style might be messy and just me rambling really

Jinu:

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

• “So the uterus just... peels??”

• simply short circuits, he's kinda loser coded from how flustered he gets tbh-

• has to sit down and process what you just said

• will try to act nonchalant and tease you but when you glare at him he's sat there like- 🫥

• he's not sure how to react, bc on one hand he's absolutely baffled by how the female human body works but pretty impressed at how you're not dying on the spot

• (spoiler alert- you are)

• does not know what to do or how to help

• will try to lower your work load just a little by keeping the boys in check and not disturbing you

• for the sake of your sanity and their safety and world domination he will try to help you the best he can

• when you snap at him he just rolls his eyes at you, but hands you a heat compress when he passes by you again.

• you eventually snap at someone else and threaten to throw their stuff out the window

• he walks on eggshells around you from then on

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Romance:

• “Wait… you bleed every month and don’t die?”

• "that's kinda hot"

• the man who looks like he's Wattpad cringey men incarnate find out what happens during your period? ('m kidding he's one of my faves)

• cue the disbelief.

• he thought bleeding meant fatal injury — now you’re telling him it happens on purpose?

• "you are one strong woman manager-nim.."

• wait till he finds out about your hormonal spikes..😟

• he's genuinely confused and lowk worried at how you endure cramps based on your description of them

• a little sht through and through tho, will not stop teasing and flirting with you either way

• "Would you like me to kiss it better-" *smack* "-worth it"

• you snap at him? He's quiet for a second but smirks and says

• "that's kinky.. scream at me more-"

• but when you physically have to lean on something bc your cramps are that bad, he will show a lil bit of empathy and rub your back for comfort

• and holds back on teasing until you feel better (almost fails like separate 3 times)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Abby:

• “You okay? Need me to fight your uterus?”

• no bc he would if he could

• actually tries- until you smack him upside the head

• does zero damage to him but stops trying for now

• curious as to how painful cramps actually are

• still thinks you're over exaggerating abt the pain but won't push you (you threaten him with smth. what you ask? no clue either.. but he stops so a win is a win ig)

• respects u a little more bc of it

• honestly..lemme get a nibble of those shoulders and then we'll talk-

• for real tho- with enough pain induced persuasion (from you obv) he will reluctantly happily let you bite him if the cramps get too bad

• again no damage done to him whatsoever;-;

• "Is this an excuse to get a taste of my beautiful muscles? If so.. manager-nim there's no need for one"

• offers you his abs to use as a pillow

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Baby:

• “I’m just gonna... not think about that.”

• does not wanna think about it

• fails

• will plug his ears and just la-la-la his way out

• definitely judges you and your cravings

• side eyes you when they're particularly weird

• he's not necessarily cruel abt it but is either immature or embarrassed.. or both

• does slowly evolve into sympathy with the right education (manager-nim? More like seonsaengnim teacher)

• eventually gets curious at how you function normally

• “manager-nim can't you just plug it? Like a cork? Using those tampoon thingies?"

• "how bout I put a cork in your mouth instead-"

• cue you mid-breakdown trying to explain how tampons work and how they can't just be shoved inside forever

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Mystery:

• “How do you not get mad at your own uterus..?”

• will stare at you with the most bewildered frown you can imagine from just seeing his mouth bro is almost impossible to read..💔

• immediately goes into a spiral of mental questions and stands there like 🧍

• frown deepens as he thinks about how much energy you have to use to do day to day activities while in constant pain..

• most likely imagining how painful it feels and his hair physically deflates at the thought..

• pokes at your lower abdomen like he's trying to decipher ancient text

• will growl at you if you try to sass him bro literally barked at a fan wdym he doesn't have undiscovered anger issues??

• he apologizes by massaging your hand later on

• will lay on your lap if you ask beg and become your personal heating pad

• the listener to your yapper frfr

• probably falls asleep mid yap but you wouldn't know, his eyes are literally nonexistent to you..

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sorry if it's not that good it's my first time writing headcannons for these gremlins so m sorry if they're pretty ooc, specially since we (I) don't know much in general abt them at all.

But I'm tryna improve with every fic:^

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

And asks/requests are open:)

Thanks for reading!!!

(credits for the original divider post bc idk if it's F2U)

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain

↳ chapter 7

previous chapter // next chapter

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: vomit, violence, mean words are said to our omega in this chapter(not by the pack), a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: remember my ask box is always open for questions about this story and as always, please enjoy this chapter :)

One of the harder parts of staying with the pack was times like this, during the day when members are out at work or living life. Of course, you were never alone, the omegas don’t have jobs though they do go out as they please, and the rest of the pack has purposely arranged their schedules so that at least one pack member above an omega is home with you guys at any given time. It’s a nice setup, you'll admit, but you feel useless. To be fair you never went out much when you lived with your old alpha but you were always cooking and cleaning to please him, you were never not busy. So that’s how you got here. Trying so hard to be useful you decided to clean up a bit instead you just made a bigger mess. You were moving on from putting the dishes in the dishwasher to cleaning the countertops when you got a whiff of the cleaning solution smell and immediately you felt the familiar sickness feeling, If you were a cartoon character you would physically be green right now. Now that you’re out of the first trimester the morning sickness should have subsided, and to be fair it wasn’t as bad as it was in the beginning but it was definitely still making itself comfortable in your life. At your last appointment, you asked the doctor about it and she said this was probably something to do with your already above-average sense of smell for an omega. At the same time, you could still get sick randomly due to your changing body, and smells would be your biggest enemy. But it was normal and that’s all that mattered to you anyway, though right now you kind of wish it wasn’t. The strong smell of vinegar and lemon is the perfect combination to kick your sickness into overdrive. Before you could even gag or process the situation you’d already thrown up all over yourself. With closed eyes you could feel your body begin to tremble, a familiar vibrating feeling that could only be accompanied by a panic attack. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sob, too afraid to make yourself any more noticeable, your body lets out soft whimpers from your quivering lip instead. Before you can even think of how to make your escape to the bathroom to clean yourself up you have to clean up the mess you made on the floor first. It's not a lot but it would be easier to clean up if the cleaning solution wasn’t making you gag even more. You don’t hear Changbin come down the stairs and enter the kitchen through the ringing in your ears.

“Y/N? I heard your whimpering and ran down here. What happ-“ Changbin cuts himself off at the sight of you all on the floor covered in your own vomit.

“It’s fine! I’m almost done cleaning it up, don't worry, I’m sorry I was just trying to help. fuck! Why can’t I help?” Your rambling is halted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay bunny. Just breathe.” As you look into his eyes you feel a sense of peace, like a gentle reminder that yes you can breathe, it’s okay.

“Good, now let me.” With one fell swoop, he picks you up bridal style and begins to walk away from the kitchen.

“Changbin, what the hell are you doing? I said I could handle it.”

“I know you could, but as your alpha, I can’t let you. Like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, let’s get you cleaned up!”

Changbin carries you all the way to the upstairs bathroom and places you down on the toilet seat and turns around to head out of the bathroom.

“I’ll get you some clothes and then you can shower!” Changbin leaves but not before giving you one of his signature cutesy smiles that almost makes you sick from how sweet it is. The alphas here confused you, hell the whole pack confused you, but Changbin especially makes your head spin. His personality was very cute and sweet which is an insane juxtaposition to his buff frame. He easily has the biggest muscles you’d ever seen, it was kind of comforting when it wasn’t scary. Changbin returns and places the clothes on the counter.

“I grabbed you some comfy warmer clothes, thought maybe it’d help soothe you.” Changbin seems unsure, you’d think this was his first time caring for an omega.

“Thank you.” and with a nod the alpha leaves you to take your shower. The water feels like it does more than just wash away your sickness but it feels like your emotions are physically leaking from your body. You watch the water run down your small bump, placing a gentle hand there as unease settles deep in your bones. If you can’t do something as simple as clean up what’s the point? How can you take care of a whole life?

You step out of the shower with a shiver, trying to get dried off and dressed as quickly as possible. As you put on the clothes Changbin picked out for you, the last item stops you in your tracks. A hoodie, but not just any hoodie, it’s his. The smell of firewood penetrates your nose and your pupils dilate. Without a word, you put on his hoodie to allow the smell to engulf you, just like it’s supposed to. Leaving the bathroom you’re greeted by the muscular alpha who now has a shocked expression. He waited for you. And god is he glad he did. The sight of you in his hoodie, covered in his scent makes him dizzy. So he waits no time to pull you back into the bathroom with him, standing behind you as you both stand in front of the mirror. Wordlessly he picks up the hairbrush and begins brushing your hair, It feels domestic, but you don’t run.

“This is your hoodie.” You speak, not really knowing if it’s a question or a statement.

“Felix told us about how alpha scents really help with your nausea, you didn’t have to wear it, I just wanted to help.” He smiles almost as softly as he brushes through your hair. You don’t miss how he brushes his nose across the top of your head, taking in your milky cherry scent.

Changbin’s heart swells with pride as his alpha howls in his head at the display in front of him. A pupped omega wearing his scented hoodie allowing him to groom you, His pupped omega, he internally corrects himself. He leads you down to the living room and he stops you from going into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I got it all cleaned up. Let’s relax now.” The alpha takes your hand leading you to the large couch letting you pick your spot before he sits next to you.

“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong, why you were cleaning up even though it was making you sick?” Your eyebrows furrow, and embarrassment floods your body once again.

“I feel useless and lazy. I don’t do anything, I don’t clean, I don’t cook, I don’t work, even though these are all things I can do with no issue. I don’t even go outside now, I’m becoming a slob.” Changbin’s heart breaks at your words, but understanding you just want some independence, some of your normal back.

“We can go out today. Could be like a more casual courting date or not, whatever you’d like.”

“I appreciate your offer but I don’t need your pity.” The alpha scoffs and your assumption of him.

“I don’t pity you, I care about you. And I want to hang out with you. Hyunjin can stay here with Han and Felix while we go out, it’ll be fun. No pressure.” Changbin gives you a hopeful smile, if he looks closely he feels like he can see a small crack forming in your wall.

“Okay, where would we go?” You don’t look at the alpha, afraid maybe he’d change his mind.

“We can go do some grocery shopping, you can help me!” Changbin emphasized the word help, as to soothe your worries.

“Really? I could help you pick out food for the pack?” You look up at Changbin with wide hopeful eyes, and his heart almost explodes.

“Yeah, we can go right now! Get your shoes on and I’ll go let the guys know we’re leaving.” He smiles before he retreats to the pack den where the pack members reside. You sit with your thoughts for a moment before releasing a contented sigh. Maybe things were looking up.

At the grocery store, Changbin pushed the cart with one hand and had the pack’s grocery list pulled up on his phone in the other. The list was split into sections, one for each pack member’s personal requests and a section for stuff for the whole house. You had a nice rhythm going on, where he guides you both through the store and tells you what to put in the cart. Though he can’t help but notice you don’t seem to be interested in grabbing anything for yourself, and they haven’t had a chance to add a you section to the grocery list quite yet. As you two made your way down a snack aisle he took notice of how you stopped in front of the milk drinks.

“I think I saw something about some sort of juice on Han’s list. What was it?” In all honesty, you don’t remember if anyone mentioned juice, you can’t think at all your mouth is watering at the sight of the banana milk. You recently started developing cravings, which weren’t weird, yet. Your mind was so used to not wanting things, you didn’t find yourself craving anything until you saw it. Sort of like love at first sight but with various cookies, rice cakes… and banana milk, as your brain had so kindly decided now. This wasn’t odd for you, you’d always liked banana milk but this was different. You didn’t want it, you needed it. This grocery trip was for them, you wouldn’t dare make this about yourself. And that’s where a gentle alpha’s encouragement comes in.

“Oh I love banana milk, should we get some?” You both share a knowing glance, though Changbin’s has an encouraging undertone.

“Maybe, maybe two packs would be good. Since there are so many of us.” The alpha is satisfied with your response, nodding at you to throw two packs into the cart. Though Changbin wouldn’t dare let the pack take your cravings from you, he’d be sure to let them know not to touch them later.

“Is there anything else the puppy wants?” Changbin takes your peaceful sigh as an invitation to be just a little more direct, trying to get you comfortable with his care.

“Seaweed chips sound really yummy… and those matcha cookies Hyunjin likes.” You blush, not used to giving in to your own desires. Changbin doesn’t care though, he wastes no time finding the snacks you want. As you continue your shopping trip the alpha does a lot more of that, encouraging you to get stuff for yourself too, showing you that you deserve treats just like the pack does if not more since you’re carrying a pup as well.

The walk to the car feels bright, and internally you acknowledge the progress you made in the store, it feels nice. Changbin insists he be the one to load the bags in the car but you don’t get in the car, you wait patiently in case he changes his mind.

The smell hits you first, like a bullet train traveling faster than sound itself. You grab onto Changbin’s arm, your scent is rancid like spoiled milk, full of panic.

“What’s wrong?” Now Changbin’s scent is burnt, afraid that somehow you got hurt on his watch. Before you can tell Changbin how urgently you need to leave the voice hits your ears and you’re shocked you don’t pass out in pure fear, you remain frozen, which somehow feels worse.

“Would you look at this, surprised I found you slut?” The slurred voice from the alpha a mere five feet away from him and his babies causes Changbin to let out a growl.

“Who the hell are you?” You want to scream at Changbin to not say anything to just get you both in the car and run but you can’t, you scream but nothing comes out. Once again trapped in your own mind prison.

“I should be asking you the same, you’re playing around with my sloppy seconds.” It clicks immediately for Changbin, this is the man who hurt you, who kicked you out on the streets pregnant and alone. The next growl he lets out is nastier, more venomous.

“Come on Y/N, you think you can run away and wear another’s alpha’s clothes and expect me not to find you? You’re carrying my seed, not his. I always knew you were a whore, but you were my whore.” If your blood wasn’t cold before, it definitely was now. Everything in you screamed to run but you remained still. Your mind feels like a slurry of nasty thoughts, like you were right back in his grip, like you’d never be safe from him.

“I suggest you leave before I rip your throat out with my teeth.” Changbin keeps one arm behind him, within each of you, keeping you both safe from this monster. The way his hand is inches away from your stomach makes you hyper aware of the pup growing inside it.

Alphas hurt pups. Our pup is in danger. Do something.

Your omega screams in your head but you don’t move, useless as always.

“Pfft her hole’s not even that good. She’s used goods pal.” The arrogant alpha slurs and it lights a fire within Changbin, nobody speaks about the people he loves like that. He lunges at the alpha determined to make those words his last, he punches him so hard that you can hear a loud crack. The alpha falls to the ground, unconscious. Changbin immediately ushers you into the car and drives away from the scene. You don’t speak, you don’t cry, you’ve completely disassociated. Staring in front of you out the windshield you think about how you got here. A lot of your first week with this pack was spent scared he would find you, but things were getting better, you had almost forgotten this was even possible. Changbin tries to comfort you the entire ride home but it’s like you’ve left your own body. His alpha cries for him to do something, to help his omega but nothing works.

When he pulls into the garage at home you immediately bolt out of the car and head straight to your room. At the sound of the door slamming and locking, everyone knew this was going to be a hurdle. But they were all willing to fight for you… literally in some cases.

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader wc: 1.4k summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death prev: first entry next: denial

Stage one: Shock

Hey,

Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like�� what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're <I>you</I>, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3

[vaginalvr]

ok so the reader is in LOVE with spencer and everyone knows it but spencer rejects her in the harshest way possible but later gets jealous and realises his feelings when he sees reader with another guy. it can end with smut ( wink, wink 😉 ).

content warning: Oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal sex, light roughness (wall/table sex, harder thrusting), explicit language and descriptions.

a/n: i really tried to branch out with my writing style to make it a little, idek intellectually challanging to read???? also did you notice that my intro isn't colorful anymore? lmk

word count ~ 1.4k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The worst part wasn’t that Spencer Reid rejected you.

It was how he did it.

You stood in the BAU breakroom with your heart clutched in your throat, your hands trembling slightly as you offered him the carefully folded note you’d debated giving him for weeks. It wasn’t a dramatic confession—just a quiet, simple truth written on paper because the words stuck in your throat every time you looked into those kind, analytical eyes.

He read it in three seconds flat. Blinked once. Then said, without even looking up, “You shouldn’t waste your time on people who don’t feel the same.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The words crushed you like glass underfoot—cold, sharp, and cutting deeper with every breath you tried to take.

You didn’t cry. Not then.

But the next morning, you came in smiling like it hadn’t happened. Like you hadn’t spent the entire night replaying his words until they etched themselves into your bones. You were fine. You kept telling yourself that until it started to feel almost believable.

Almost.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the team to notice.

Morgan softened around you. JJ gave you too many meaningful looks. Penelope pulled you into her office for long, rambling pep talks about self-worth and soulmates.

Even Hotch said your name more gently than usual.

But Spencer? He acted like nothing had changed. And that somehow made everything worse.

So, you moved on.

Or pretended to.

The guy from counter-terrorism—Eli—was easy on the eyes, charming in that cocky, I-bet-he’s-great-in-bed way. You let him flirt with you in the hallway. You laughed a little too loudly at his jokes. And one Friday after work, you let him take you out for drinks.

You didn’t expect Spencer to care.

You certainly didn’t expect him to glare across the bar like he wanted to kill Eli with his mind.

But that’s exactly what happened.

It was a BAU outing, and you were perched at the bar, Eli’s hand casually resting on your lower back as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You laughed—because you were trying, trying to feel anything but the ache Spencer had left behind—and when you turned to look at him, Spencer was staring at you with eyes that had gone dark and unreadable.

He was furious.

You blinked, startled, but he looked away as quickly as he’d looked at you. You pretended not to notice when he left early.

He didn’t speak to you for days.

You thought maybe you’d finally crossed some invisible line. That whatever bridge remained between you had burned to ash.

Then, on a late Thursday night, you found yourself working alone in the briefing room, flipping through profiles in a haze of exhaustion. The lights were dim, your coffee had gone cold, and your legs ached from sitting in the same position for hours.

You didn’t even hear the door open.

“Why him?” Spencer’s voice broke the quiet like a crack of thunder.

You looked up, startled. He stood in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his tie loose, his chest rising and falling too quickly for someone who supposedly didn’t care.

“Why him, of all people?” he repeated, stepping closer.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Spencer’s jaw clenched. “Eli. The guy from counter-terrorism. You let him touch you like you don’t know who’s watching.”

Your breath caught.

Something flickered in his eyes. Anger. Possession. Regret.

“You said I shouldn’t waste my time,” you said flatly, heart thudding. “I listened.”

“That was a mistake.”

You froze.

Spencer took another step forward, voice low and raw. “I thought I was protecting you. From me. From what it would mean if I said yes. But then I saw him touching you and—” He exhaled sharply. “And I wanted to rip his fucking hand off.”

The silence that followed was like a string pulled taut between you.

“I’m in love with you,” you said quietly, not flinching this time. “Even after what you said. I’m still in love with you.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Not when he crossed the room in three long strides, not when he cupped your face with trembling hands, not when he kissed you like he was drowning in everything he’d tried to deny.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was desperate.

You gasped into his mouth as he backed you against the wall, lips fierce and unforgiving, hands sliding down your body with shaking restraint.

“You don’t get to do this,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you were tugging at his shirt, your voice breaking. “You don’t get to break me and then decide you want me.”

“I know,” he breathed against your jaw. “I know. I’m sorry. Let me—please—let me make it right.”

His mouth trailed to your throat, then lower, unbuttoning your blouse with fevered urgency. You weren’t even sure how your skirt ended up bunched around your hips, or when he dropped to his knees in front of you, his breath hot against the inside of your thigh.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, reverent, almost pained. “You always have been.”

Then his mouth was on you, and all thoughts of heartbreak scattered like dust.

You braced against the wall, fingers tangled in his hair, hips twitching forward as his tongue circled your clit with maddening precision. You cried out his name—once, twice—until he groaned against you and slid two fingers inside, curling them just right.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t want to. He worked you through it, licking and stroking until your legs were shaking and your mind was blank with pleasure.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was already standing, already unbuckling his belt with a heat in his gaze that made your breath catch.

“I need you,” he said, voice rough. “Tell me I can have you.”

You nodded, dazed, and he spun you around, bending you over the conference table like he couldn’t wait another second.

When he slid inside, you both gasped—his hands gripping your hips, your cheek pressed to the cool wood, the stretch of him grounding you in the best way.

“You feel—fuck—so good,” he groaned, thrusting deep.

You arched into him, pushing back. “Harder.”

He obeyed, fucking you with growing intensity, the sounds of skin meeting skin filling the dark room. One hand wrapped around your waist, the other slid between your thighs to circle your clit again. It was too much. It was perfect.

You came again with a broken moan, and he followed seconds later, spilling inside you with a harsh gasp, his body collapsing over yours.

For a long moment, you just breathed.

Then, softly, his lips brushed your shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ve always loved you.”

You turned your head, met his eyes. “You’re damn lucky I still want to hear that.”

A small, rueful smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

[gooseraider]

hey! i saw that ur requests are open! 🌱 so i thought i’d drop something here if u’re interested.

so maybe something sweet with loser!ellie on the first date with reader and it’s just so sweet - maybe ellie’s trying to impress reader but she already really likes ellie? 🪽

write it if you want to - no pressure ☀️

love, hallow 🦋

first dates & fun facts

a/n: i’ve never been on a date so i don’t know the first thing about first dates, anyways hope you enjoy!🪿

you’re applying the finishing touches to your look, making sure the curls in your hair looked perfect. you receive a text from ellie saying she’s outside your house.

hurrying to finish getting ready, you hear a knock on your front door and after dousing yourself in perfume, you run down the stairs and open the door.

“hi.” you say, slightly winded from running to the door.

“hey, i- uh.. i got you these.” ellie says, pushing a bouquet of pink daisies towards you.

“sorry if you don’t like them, i was running late and couldn’t decide which flowers you’d like the best so i just got those because they’re pink and you said your favorite color was pink and-“

you cut off her rambling with a kiss to her cheek, “i love the flowers ellie, thank you.”

“okay cool cool, im glad you like them.”

ellie stands awkwardly in your doorway, fiddling with the loose threads on her sweater. “you ready to get going?” you ask.

“yeah, let’s go.”

ellie leads you to her car and opens the passenger door for you.

”thank you.”

“yeah no problem.”

you can tell ellie is super nervous, deciding to ask her some questions to ease the mood.

“so where are we going? you never told me.”

“oh shit, sorry, we’re going to the boardwalk. figured you’d like it y’know, there’s beaches and rides and stuff.” she says, playing around with the radio trying to get it to the right station.

“that sounds fun.”

“you sure? cause if you don’t want to we can totally like go somewhere else, i don’t mind honestly.”

“i’m sure, i love the beach and rides and stuff, especially if im going with you.”

ellie’s face turns completely red, she doesn’t speak for the rest of the way there, to flustered to form a coherent sentence.

you guys arrive at the boardwalk, ellie comes over to your side and opens the door for you. “thank you.” you say.

ellie reaches for your hand, her own hand trembling as she does. you take her hand immediately noticing how shaky she is. “hey you okay there?”

“yeah, sorry uh.. i’m just not used to going on dates y’know, especially with someone as pretty as you.”

you blush, “if it makes you feel better this is my first date as well.” you admit.

“really? no way, how?” ellie says clearly confused by your confession.

you shrug, “i don’t know, i guess i just haven’t found someone i’d want to go on a date with.”

“oh.. well i’m glad i get to take you on your first date.”

“and i’m glad you’re taking me on my first date ellie.”

you two walk along the boardwalk for a while, talking and getting to know eachother. you just found out about ellie’s hamster named saturn, and her cat named slushy.

“aww they’re so cute.” you say as you look at the photo of her cat and hamster next to each-other.

“you should come over and meet them sometime.”

“really?”

“yeah, they love meeting new people, especially slushy, she always coughs up new hairballs for guests.” ellie says while laughing.

“well now i have to meet them.”

“next date i’ll take you to see them.”

“next date? that fond of me already williams?”

“what can i say, you’re easy to fond over- wait no that makes no sense sorry i don’t know what im saying anymore.” she says, looking down trying to hide her face that’s now beet red.

“it’s okay i get what you’re trying to say, and if it helps, i’m fonding over you too.” you say, shooting her a wink.

you spot an ice cream shop ahead, “ooo look let’s go get ice cream.” you say, pulling ellie with you in the direction of the ice cream shop.

yall successfully get your ice cream and now you two are sat on a bench that overlooks the ocean. “how many sharks do you think live on the ocean?” you ask ellie

“well, we don’t know exactly how many sharks are in the ocean but it’s estimated that over a billion sharks live in the ocean.”

“woah that’s a lot.”

“yeah, there’s over 500 different species of sharks, with great white sharks being the deadliest species.”

“how do you know so much about sharks?”

“i don’t know, i guess they’re like super cool so i just research things about them.”

“okay little miss shark genius, tell me more information about sharks.” you declare, turning to face ellie.

“well uh… sharks have a sixth sense. they have an organ called ampullae of something… uh i forgot… but anyways they use it to sense electrical stimuli and hunt animals hidden under the sand in stuff.”

“wow i didn’t know that.”

“not a lot of people do, sharks are one of the most misunderstood sea creatures. everyone thinks they’re like some evil blood thirsty creature but in reality they’re just a protective species.”

you stare at her in awe, finding her random shark facts really interesting. “so… did i impress you with my shark facts or did i just ruin the date and you think im weird and you never wanna see me again.” ellie says, scratching her neck nervously.

“you did actually, now i get to say i went on a date with a pretty girl and i learned something new about sharks.” you say, taking another bite of your ice cream.

ellie continues to stare at you, you suddenly worried you said the wrong thing, “why are you looking at me like that? did i do something wrong?”

“no, shit- sorry, you just have ice cream on your face.”

“oh.” you try wiping it off, only to miss. ellie reaches over and swipes the ice cream off your lip.

you two are now realizing how close you actually are, you notice how both of your knees are touching, how you have a clear view of ellie’s eyes, and how you can feel her breath on your face. you see her glance at your lips then back to your eyes, you decide it’s now or never and you lean in, connecting your lips with hers.

the kiss is short but sweet, “sorry, i didn’t mean to do that you probably didn’t want to-“

you’re cut off by ellie leaning back in and kissing you again, this time her hand comes up to hold your face. tasting the mint flavor on her lips, you pull away.

“i’ve been wanting to do that all night.” you admit.

“took you long enough.” ellie teases.

“oh hush, we both know you wouldn’t have the balls to kiss me first.” you giggle.

the ride back to your house is much more comfortable, music playing softly in the background. ellie’s hand is resting in yours the whole way back to your house.

when you arrive at your house, ellie gets out and walks you to your front door. “i had fun tonight, thanks for going out with me.”

“i had fun as well, and thank you for teaching me random facts about sharks.”

neither of you wanting the night to end, you both settle on one last kiss to end the night.

“i really did have fun tonight, thank you.” you say, pulling away from the kiss and pulling ellie into a hug.

“same time next week?” ellie jokes.

“i’d love to.”

“wait, actually? i didn’t think you’d want to go on another date.”

“you’ve got to be kidding, i just kissed you three times tonight and you think i don’t want to see you again?”

“well not when you you say it like that.”

you roll your eyes, pulling ellie closer, “goodnight ellie, get home safe.”

“goodnight.” she says kissing the top of your head, heading back to her car.

you two wave goodbye to each-other as one last goodbye.

“god, what is this girl doing to me.” ellie says, laying her head down on the steering wheel.

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 6

... WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?” Abby shouted as he and the others panicked after seeing her get yanked through the fabric of time and space. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna call her! I should call her right?!” Romance rambled as he paced the floor. “That was Gwi-Ma… he did this.” Mystery replied, staring at the place Natasha had once been then at his hand. “He snatched her away… So quickly… Do you think this is his way of telling us anything that makes us happy… he can take it away… just like that?” He added making the others stop in their panic.

“He's not wrong… Gwi-Ma really can do that… is he… punishing us?” Jinu wondered aloud before in a puff of pink smoke, Natasha dropped from the ceiling into his arms. “What the what?” He stood in shock as Natasha sat in his arms. The dazed expression on her face worried the group. “Natasha? What happened? Are you ok?” Jinu asked, walking over to the couch and reluctantly placing her on it. “She's not answering. Why isn't she answering?” Romance placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

“Tasha?” The slow turn of her head made things worse by how deeply she was staring at them. As if she was trying to search for their lost souls. Then suddenly “The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him and destroy everything he holds dear. Which isn't much.” She mumbled before closing her eyes and heaving a deep tired sigh. “Gwi-Ma?” Jinu asked. Still worried about Natasha's mental state. She gave a slow nod before turning to the boys. “I don't think you guys need me anymore. You've done well these past weeks. Baby shook his head. “No, we still need you. Don't you go and quit on us. Not when we're so close.”

Natasha shrugged. “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to kill the hunters? Do you really want to give souls to Gwi-Ma and be berated because he's never satisfied? Or do you like being here? Being somewhat human? Being idols and having your freedom. Free from his voice in your heads? You boys have a choice.” As a wave of silence went through the penthouse, Mystery spoke up. “I don't want to do this anymore… I just want to be with you…” He then hugged Natasha tightly.

“Same… killing the hunters isn't worth it and feeding off souls isn't as satisfying as one might think.” Romance added. “In all honesty… Fuck Gwi-Ma. He's done nothing but make us suffer.” Baby replied as he took a seat next to Natasha. “Yea. I'm done doing his bidding. I feel better when I'm with you… I feel like I actually have a mind of my own.” Abby said before slamming his body onto the other side of the couch. “The repercussions… Is this really wise? What if he…” “Jinu, he won't hurt you. Not when he knows you belong with me. You have nothing to fear when you're with me.” Natasha said as she touched his cheek softly.

The man closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, letting out a relaxed sigh. He felt warm. He felt… home. Weeks later, the boys began to adjust to a new routine that didn't involve doing Gwi-Ma’s bidding or something evil. Since their refusal to work for Gwi-Ma, they found themselves happier than ever before. Their music career even took off. “Ugh my hand is cramping up! How many of these do we have to sign?” Baby whined as he hit his head on the table with pictures and merch sprawled out around him. “As many as you can love, you don't want to disappoint your fans do you?” Natasha replied as she sat on Jinu’s lap.

“How come he gets lap time?” Romance pouted. “I finished signing all my merchandise. And I have more than you.” He smirked while kissing on Natasha's neck. “Piece of shit.” Abby mumbled while scribbling his signature on yet another polaroid of him for the 200th time. “We should write another song.” Mystery suddenly spoke. Appearing from a mountain of merchandise and photos he had just finished signing. “Seriously? Wasn't Soda Pop enough?” Abby responded. “Not if you wanna stay famous Abs. You guys might become 1 hit wonders if you don't make another song soon.” Natasha replied. “You wrote songs before right? Write one for us!” Romance jumped up.

“Yea, show us those retired skills that made you famous.” Jinu smiled. Before Natasha could even begin to protest, she noticed the eyes of the group deadlocked on her. With slightly pouty expressions. “I don't know guys. It's been a while.” Natasha mumbled. “Please? We never got to see you in action. Now would be the perfect time.” Mystery said while putting a soft hand on Natasha's thigh. “Alright, I'll write your next song. But Jinu, Abby? You'll have to choreograph it.” The pair then nodded. “Baby? It might be a slow paced song. Are you ok with that?” The man pretended to think before smiling. “You know it.”

Over the course of that month, Natasha wrote a song for the group. As well as producing the beat while Jinu and Abby choreographed the dance to the song and Mystery with Romance came up with a concept for the video. After making the promo and releasing the song, the boys soon had their first live performance of the song that night. Excitement quickly spread through the populace and the group was no less excited. Probably even more because this would be their first song and performance that had nothing to do with consuming souls or Gwi-Ma. It was originally and perfectly them.

“I can't find my hat! We go on in like 30! Where's my damn hat!?” Baby's deep voice shouted through the venue. “It's on your head dear.” Natasha replied as she applied Mystery’s lip gloss for him. “... Oh.. Thanks babe. I mean Miss Manager.” He smirked as he snuck a quick kiss to her lips. “ Where's Jinu?” Natasha asked after moving to Abby and buttoning up his shirt because his hands were ‘oh so tired from signing fan letters all day’. “He and Romance went to check on the lights.” Mystery replied before leaning down and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. “Mm~ No honey! I just applied that! Now I gotta start all over!” Natasha scolded to which Mystery only smiled softly.

“Oh no. How unfortunate.” As Natasha began to apply his lip gloss once more, Jinu walked up behind her and kissed her cheek. “Hey sweetie. You should come on stage with us tonight. It's your song we're singing.” He smiled. “Absolutely not. I did my time.” Romance chuckled as he stood on her other side. “You speak of it like it was a prison sentence.” Suddenly, the sound of the doors opening and people flooding into the venue alerted the group and it was clear they were practically buzzing with excitement. “We should go practice a bit more! Just to make sure we got the routine perfectly!” Jinu grinned as he and the others went to find a place to rehearse one last time.

“Babe? You coming?” Baby asked. “Huh? Oh yea! Give me a minute! I'll catch up!” Natasha smiled. As soon as the boys were out of sight however, her smile dropped as she ran to the nearest bathroom to puke. Hands trembling and body unnaturally cold, Natasha pulled out a positive pregnancy test from her purse. “What am I gonna do…”

@libdarkheart

Chapter 7

[voie-lacte3]

sidewalk rule with mason thames

—the one where mason always walks on the side closest to the street

| based on this request

| taglist

| the rest of his masterlist!

mason always walks on the side closest to the street, whether it's crowded, raining, day or night, hoodie on or off.

he’s not dramatic about it.

he just… does it. every time. and if you ever try to walk closest to traffic?

“nah, switch with me. just—yeah, stay on that side.”

he does it instinctively. no fanfare. no lecture. just silent protection.

────୨ৎ────

• if it starts raining, he puts himself closest to the cars splashing water and throws his hoodie over your head without thinking, “i got it. stay dry.”

• you're walking and talking so you don’t notice you're getting close to the curb, mason just gently grabs your hand and tugs you toward the inside without stopping the convo.

⤷ “and then she said—”, he tugs you across the sidewalk, “…what was that?”, “you were about to get hit by a bus, keep going.”

• one day you ask him why he always does it. he just shrugs and goes, “my mom always said if you love someone, you protect them, even from little things.”(cue your heart combusting.)

• he says funny things like: “you know i’m not letting you walk near traffic, right? who do you think i am?.” “get over there. i’m not tryna let a rogue Uber take you out.” “stay close. i like you too much to let you get hit by a bus.”

────୨ৎ──── first blurb

you’re walking next to mason down your neighborhood street. the sky’s pink from the sunset, your sleeves are too long, and you’re rambling about some girl from your class who doesn’t know how to whisper. you're halfway through your story, hands flying around, voice full of drama, when you feel him tug your wrist lightly. no words. just a gentle pull.

you blink and look down, and that’s when it hits you.

you're now walking on the inside of the sidewalk. he’s on the outside. again, between you and the cars.

you pause mid-step.

“wait. why do you always do that? walk on that side?”

mason looks over, confused for a second. “do what?” “that sidewalk thing. you switch sides every time.”

he looks at the street then at you, shrugging like it’s obvious. “hello? thats the street side. dont want you to get hit by a car?”

“i mean yeah, but… you always do it.”

“duh??? im not gonna let my precious girlfriend get hit by a car, be for real”

you laugh. “okay protector.” he grins. “damn right. sidewalk rule, babe. don’t fight it.”

then quietly, softer, almost like an accident, “i like keeping you safe.”

and you swear your heart does a backflip.

────୨ৎ──── second blurb

you and mason are walking in downtown dallas after grabbing some tacos. your hand’s in his, you’re half-complaining about your sandals, and the traffic is absolute hell.

people were driving like they were cast for a fast and furious spinoff, causing mason to— every 4 steps, gently guide you toward the inside of the sidewalk again. and again. and again.

you eventually get distracted by a guy walking down the street with a snake around his neck (??) that you dont notice yourself accidentally drift towards the street.

before you can even process it, mason tugs you back hard enough that you stumble into his chest.

“Jesus Christ mace, im not gonna get hit by a car.”

he gives you one of the most outrageous side eyes known to man, “have you seen how people in texas drive?” he mutters, arm going around your waist. “stay on the inside. these texans will run you over and reverse to do it again.”

you roll your eyes, “dramatic much?” “babe. that ford F-250 didn’t even slow down at the red light.”

“okay but like, i can protect myself.” “puh-lease, you barely dodge curbs. the city’s tryna end you.”

he tugs you closer as a car screeches past, the wind making your hair blow all over your face.

you glare. “okay fine. but i still feel babied.”

“you're not being babied. you're being girlfriended. there's a difference.”

he kisses your cheek mid-stride like it’s the most casual thing in the world, wrapping an arm tight around your waist as another car zooms past.

────୨ৎ──── third blurb

the two of you are trying to leave a restaurant. it was highkey supposed to be lowkey, but a few paps caught on....and then a few more.

suddenly you're on the sidewalk, lights flashing, voices calling out your name. one guy yells something about mason, another says something gross about your outfit.

you feel yourself freeze up instantly.

mason doesn’t even blink. his arm snakes around your waist. he shifts you to the inside of the sidewalk so fast it’s instinct, putting himself directly between you and them.

“breathe. i got you.”

his hand tightens on your hip, and he leans in close—not for the cameras, but just for you.

“look at me. not them.”

────୨ৎ──── fourth blurb

you’re walking back to his car after a late-late night ice cream run. it’s quiet, peaceful, and you’re full of cookie dough and love.

he’s half-asleep and rambling about movie ideas when you gently tug him to the inside of the sidewalk.

he blinks.

“...did you just sidewalk-rule me?”

“you're clearly tired. if you love someone, you protect them, even from little things,"

he… stops, looking at you like you personally rewired the stars, softest smile on his face.

“damn. imma marry you.”

“relax lover boy. i just moved you off the curb.”

“and it was hot.”

a/n: i hope this does the request justice 💔 lmk if yall want a full fic on this!!

tags: @bluebvrriee @v4mpire-bit3s @neroloops @m-e-m06 @icollectrubberduckies @tuttifrutt1 @unsaidjaelinrose @sorry-for-party-rocking-rah @courta13 @thegr8estpuff @thamesbunni @user168537 @katie-the-bookworm @cecedelove

[dollyzdaydreamz]

dean winchester x fem!reader

much better

description: you’ve been down lately and can’t seem to get out of your head to put a finger on why you feel this way. a quiet drive, a few gentle words, and an unexpected stop at a drive-in, show you that even in silence, you’re never really alone.

angst ・hurt/comfort ・fluff ・ 2.3k words

spn masterlist

warnings: indications of depression

Dinner had been quieter than usual.

You pushed the food around your plate for a while, chewing in slow bites, trying not to be obvious about how checked out you felt.

Dean had inhaled his burger as per usual, but even that barely earned a smile from you.

Sam noticed too, you could tell with the way he kept glancing over between sips of water, brow furrowed like he was trying to do math on your face.

But you didn’t know what to tell them.

You didn’t know what to tell yourself.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” you said, setting your fork down and pushing your chair back.

Dean looked up immediately. “You sure? It’s dark out.”

You nodded, grabbing your jacket from the back of the motel chair. “I won’t go far. Just need some air.”

The door clicked softly behind you.

The sky outside was inky and scattered with stars. The distant buzz of power lines and the low hum of cars passing on the highway filled the silence, but in your head, everything was louder.

Thought after thought, tumbling over each other in a mess of white noise and strange sadness you couldn’t really explain.

Your boots scuffed against the cement, arms crossing loosely over your chest to subconsciously comfort yourself from the unfamiliar ache in it.

You didn’t even notice the door open again behind you until you heard footsteps approaching.

“Mind if I join ya’?”

Dean’s voice was casual, the warmth in it cutting through the cool night air.

You looked over your shoulder.

As he was slinging on his leather jacket, he had that subtle squint in his eyes, like he was trying to read you without being too obvious about it.

“Burger’s not sittin’ right,” he huffed, placing a hand over his chest as he hiccuped a little. “Better walk it off before I start hearin’ colors or something.”

Normally, that would’ve made you laugh. Maybe nudge him with your elbow and call him out on his ridiculous diet.

But tonight, you didn’t really have the energy to react, just let out a noncommittal hum and kept your eyes trained on the sidewalk below you.

Dean didn’t say anything right away. Just walked beside you, matching your pace.

After a minute or two, he started talking.

First, he quietly rambled about a weird roadside diner they once ate at a few years ago, then about how he almost set the motel kitchen on fire once when he and Sam were kids.

Stories, random memories, tiny distractions tossed into the silence like pebbles into a pond.

You tried to respond. You wanted to. But everything felt…heavy. Like your thoughts were stuck behind thick glass.

You nodded occasionally, maybe hummed again when appropriate, but your throat felt tight.

There was a sting behind your eyes that wouldn’t go away.

That familiar pressure, like you were on the verge of tears, but they were trapped somewhere deep inside.

Dean glanced over from the corner of his eye, keeping his voice light, “So… what’s been going on with you lately?”

You opened your mouth, hoping for words, anything that could explain this tangle inside you.

“I don’t know. I just feel…weird.”

Dean slowed, just a little. “Weird?”

“I—I don’t know. I just…” You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I just feel like I’m stuck in my head and I can’t get out. I don’t wanna talk or be around people. But I don’t really wanna be alone either and everything’s loud but quiet at the same time and…”

Your words trailed off as you rubbed at your forehead in frustration, overwhelmed by the weight of everything.

You blinked fast, but one stubborn tear escaped anyway.

Dean stopped walking.

You kept going a step or two, wiping your nose with your sleeve, before realizing he wasn’t beside you anymore.

When you turned back, he was standing still, staring at you, eyes wide and soft, like he’d just seen something sacred crack in front of him.

“…Are you crying?” he asked gently, voice almost small with surprise.

You sniffled and turned your face away. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why. I just—”

“Hey.” Dean closed the gap between you, one hand reaching out to rest against the side of your head, “It’s okay. I gotcha.”

You let your head fall into his chest, his jacket rough under your cheek, the smell of the leather grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I gotcha,” he repeated, softer this time. His hand cradled the back of your head, and his chin rested on your crown.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The night stretched out around you, the wind playing with your hair, the motel sign buzzing faintly in the distance.

Eventually, you pulled back, swiping your sleeve across your eyes.

Dean let you go with no questions, just stepped back and gave you space.

“C’mon,” he said after a beat, nodding toward the parking lot. “Let’s go for a drive.”

You followed without protest. He opened the passenger door of the Impala for you and you climbed in silently. The engine growled to life, the radio low as he pulled out onto the road.

You stared out the window, unsure of what to say or how to fix this mood that felt like it came out of nowhere and swallowed everything whole.

Dean’s voice cut through the quiet.

“You know, I used to get like that, too.”

You turned your head slightly.

He kept his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. “Still do sometimes.”

“After uh,” He cleared his throat, as if he wasn’t sure if he could continue, “—After my Mom died.”

You nodded slowly. He never really talked much about how that affected him, so of course you were curious, but you didn’t wanna push.

You were pleasantly surprised when he actually continued talking.

“I was just a kid, but…man, sometimes I didn’t wanna talk to anybody. Couldn’t stop thinking, but also didn’t know what I was thinking about, y’know? It was just noise. All the time.”

Dean glanced at you briefly, then back to the road,

“No one really explained what it was. I thought I was broken. But I was just…sad. And I didn’t always have a reason.”

The road was dark and mostly empty, lined with trees and flickering streetlamps.

Your throat tightened again.

Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel, then added, quieter now, “I wish someone told me it was okay to feel like that. That I didn’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

You watched him in the soft glow of the dash lights. His face was calm but thoughtful, eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw slackening as if just speaking those memories had loosened something inside him.

And in that moment, you saw him differently.

Not just Dean the handsome tough guy, the hunter, the loud one with a smart remark always locked and loaded, just Dean.

The one who carried everyone’s pain like it was his job, who cracked jokes so you didn’t have to feel sad, who hurt in silence more times than he let on.

He didn’t look at you at first. But then he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because his gaze flicked to you for a beat.

And just for a second, he couldn’t look away.

Maybe it was just the barest flicker of understanding in your eyes, or that moment he sensed the knot inside your chest finally starting to loosen.

Then he cleared his throat and looked away, eyes landing on a neon sign glowing up ahead.

“Hang tight,” he muttered, flicking on the turn signal. “Got an idea.”

You furrowed your brow as he turned off the road and rolled up to an old-fashioned drive-in theater, the kind you thought only existed in retro postcards.

A black-and-white sci-fi movie flickered on the big screen, dialogue echoing through tinny speakers bolted onto poles across the lot.

Dean threw the gear into part, “I’ll be right back,” he said before hopping out.

You watched him walk away toward the concession stand under a buzzing yellow light, his broad silhouette shrinking into the dark.

Your brows knitted together, lips twitching in some vague confusion, until you saw him returning, arms full.

Two milkshakes. A big, slightly burned batch of popcorn. And that damn lopsided grin on his face.

You huffed a small laugh as he handed you one of the milkshakes. “Seriously?”

“What?” he shrugged innocently, as he slid back into the driver’s seat. “It’s comfort food.”

You chuckled and settled back in your seat, sipping quietly from the straw. The movie played in front of you, casting flickers of light over the interior of the Impala.

You appreciated how Dean didn’t press for more conversation, didn’t ask how you were feeling or whether you wanted to talk again, just let the silence lull the two of you.

Without thinking, you reached over and rested your hand on his.

When you looked at Dean, he was already looking at you, green eyes shimmering against the projector lights.

His mouth curled into a grin, one of the real ones. The kind that crinkled the skin near his eyes and made you wonder what sarcastic pick up line he was thinking but choosing, for once, not to say out loud.

He was equally as beautiful as he was infectious.

Without a word, he turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through yours.

“Better?” He whispered, raising your interlocked hands to give yours a soft kiss.

You felt your heart do a stupid little flip, before you nodded. For the first time in what felt like days, you weren’t stuck inside your head anymore.

“Much better.”

summer depression goes crazy (┬┬﹏┬┬)

[only-lonely-star]

so your post abt your concerning amount of injured reader requests inspired me. you should totally do a gang x reader who just got out of surgery. like still under anesthesia that makes you act all high and stuff. i don’t remember if you do hcs involving the entire gang (separate ofc) or not, but if you don’t, then you could do this with dally or ponyboy— tysm ily and your writing 🤞🫶

Curtis gang x anesthetized!reader HCs

Curtis gang x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is under anesthesia. Brief mentions of bruising and blood. Reader experiences mild pain.

Author’s Note: I decided to specify this request for wisdom teeth! I got mine taken out a few years ago so I have experience lol. enjoy!! <3

+ my little story time of when I got my wisdom teeth taken out at the end bc why not :)

✦ . 　⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 🦷 ✦ . 　⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ponyboy

As soon as he saw you being pushed outside from a wheelchair, he just felt bad. Not because he had done anything wrong, but because it feels so scary to see someone he cares about so out of it.

I feel like his idea of someone being anesthetized is like ‘they zone out for a bit and slur their words’, but your experience was totally different.

If you were crying, he definitely thought you were in pain from the surgery. (For reference, some people cry when waking back up from confusion, stress, etc.)

Just by hearing your rambling, he was genuinely thinking ‘What the fuck…? Did they put you on anesthesia or something else?”

He’d try to be as helpful as possible, especially at first when you were numb inside your mouth. I think he would make a great nurse for the day and help talk you through your discomfort.

Maybe Pony would read you a book once you calmed down enough to understand what he was saying. At first you can’t do much else besides lay there and mellow yourself out, so he could easily kill time reading to you.

Ponyboy would remind you of what you’re allowed and not allowed to eat/drink/do within the first few days. The thought of dry socket scares the SHIT out of him. He wants absolutely noooo part in that.

Johnny

Johnny would laugh his ass off when you’re first rolled out of the operation room. Deep down, he’s a little scared of the possibility that he might have to have his wisdom teeth removed, so he disguises it with laughter.

He would try to fuck with you a little bit because he’s aware you can’t form coherent thoughts just yet. He thinks it’s sooo funny to watch you panic like that 😭 “Where’s your tongue?? They removed that too?!”

Okay, after he’s had a good laugh, I think he would try to comfort you a little. Especially if you were more emotional when waking up, he’d probably feel slightly guilty for teasing. I can totally see him letting you rest your head on his shoulder or blab about whatever as his way of showing you he’s there for you.

If you WERE a crier right off the bat, Johnny wouldn’t joke like that. He imagines that would feel like pure torture.

Since you can’t smoke, he’d do you a favor and exhale towards you so that you can get your dose of second-hand smoke in until you’re better.

He isn’t fazed by your all-liquid diet. Hard times have led him to consume soup, broth, and whatnot even though he can chew. I think he might try and keep solid foods out of your sight as a sign of respect.

Dallas

Similar to Johnny, I think Dallas would take one good look at you before bursting into laughter. He’s familiar with various drugs and such, but anesthesia isn’t anything like the party drugs he’s used to.

He personally thinks your swollen, gauze filled cheeks are hilarious.

No matter if you’re crying or not, I think he would try to straight up interview you on the spot. “How’s your mouth? Does it hurt? You remember who I am?”

He would take advantage of your state and try to get you to confess the most embarrassing things. Stories he can recall from ages ago that he knows you would never retell would just slip out because of your lowered inhibition.

The never ending teasing Dallas would commit to is just ruthless. You’ll be “chipmunk cheeks” to him forever.

He wouldn’t know better when it comes to post-surgery rules. He would try and be nice for once by bringing you a milkshake just to find out you need to be spoon fed instead of using straws like normal. As much as it would grate at his nerves, he would go back and out of his way to find you a spoon to slurp from.

Sodapop

He would be concerned at first glance, noticing the bruising on your cheeks and the swelling around your jaw. Soda would try and comfort you physically whether it be holding your hand or letting you lean on him for support. (This can be interpreted romantically or platonically)

When you’re rambling, he would simply nod along and go “mhm” every few mumbles so you felt heard.

During the car ride home, he tried to keep you as calm as possible. Crying or not, there’s usually a bit of a panicked reaction when first waking up from the anesthesia. I actually think Soda may have gotten his taken out before, so he knows it’s not super pretty.

Constant reassurance if you were one to cry a lot. “No, no it’s okay. It’s over now. You’re doing great.”

Once you’re a little more conscious of your surroundings, he would sit and listen to you talk about how you feel, what you need at the moment, etc. Overall, I think he would be super caring (partly because he has experience).

Steve

He would make a 😧 face when he first sees you because of how fucked up you look. He would be on the more stunned/amused type rather than comforting.

He would poke at your cheeks in fascination. The slight bruising on your jaw is “tuff” according to his judgment. “Looks like you took a few blows. I mean, it looks pretty tuff if you ask me😼.”

I think he would save the teasing until after you’ve gained full consciousness again.

He would be the type of person to try and make you laugh/cheer you up if you were crying from the anesthesia. I assume he would think you’re crying in pain or because of the blood on your gauze because he doesn’t have personal experience in this area.

If this was a modern au, he would definitely try to sneak a phone in and record you to embarrass you with videos later. Not in a mean way, but in a playful & teasing type of way yk?

He leans your head against the seatbelt in the car, trying to NOT touch your puffy cheek. His worst fear in the moment is for your gauze to fall out of your mouth and land anywhere on him.

Two-Bit

He covered his mouth like 🫢 when he first saw you, trying his hardest to not laugh IN your face.

He would talk to you like a child, and it surprisingly worked well. The slower, more simple sentences could actually be comprehended even though you were still under anesthesia.

Tries to get you to open your mouth to show him where they operated on you because he thinks the concept of surgery is so fascinating.

Similar to Soda, I think he would play along with your loopy rambling. If you’re speaking straight up mumbles that only make sense to you he’d try to mumble back like you’re speaking a language only the two of you know.

He’s oddly gentle with you. I think he would offer you something to eat (liquid foods) right away. He would try to take care of your needs because being on anesthesia does NOT look like him to fun. Funny? Sure. But fun? He would pass.

He hypes you up HELLA. I’m thinking in an encouraging but also impressive way like, “Look at you, you’re all done. It’s over! I couldn’t ever get my teeth taken out.”

Two-Bit makes you feel ‘guilty’ when he assists you. Obviously he’s just teasing, but under anesthesia you can’t take the hint. He would wipe your drool or adjust your bloody gauze and proceed to say something like, “Who else would do this for you? Mhm, exactly. Exactly! You owe me.”

Darrel

He’s so gentle and attentive with everything. He’s used to the role of a protective, caring, selfless big brother, but it’s like something snaps within him when he sees you so drugged and out of it.

He tries talking to you immediately, surveying how you feel, if you’re in pain, etc. Bonus points if you’re crying- he’ll try to ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

He tries to read the little pamphlet with care instructions from the nurses but he can’t even focus on it because he’s so concerned about you.

I feel like Darry would try and shadow you 24/7 post-surgery. If you’re asleep or simply resting on the couch he would pop his head in just to make sure you weren’t laying on one cheek or eating solid foods.

Again, this is more of a modern au type of deal- I think Darry would try and scold anyone who tried to record you. BUTTT he would take a picture for himself to keep as a silly memory, not to tease you endlessly.

He would probably be the one to drive you home post-surgery. He volunteered himself since he trusts himself enough to bring you back safely.

He shushes you when you try to ramble, he doesn’t egg you on like the others.

Story time:

My story isn’t all that interesting, but it was pretty funny to me when I retell it from my own perspective. I wanted my parents to record me so bad, but my mom insisted on not doing so. Okay so— I was brought into the operating room and sat down like normal. After about 30 minutes, who I think ended up being my surgeon came in with a thick ass needle. I knew right then and there that was the anesthesia. He starts asking me about school, what grade I’m going into, and what my favorite subject is as he’s injecting the anesthesia into my arm. I was talking like normal and I swear I blinked ONCE and I was suddenly in the backseat of my dad’s car. I remember closing my eyes for .2938384882 seconds and opening them to find myself sobbing and asking something along the lines of, “but how did I get from there to here?” and “Is it over?” repeatedly. I was sort of hunched over my lap/the back of the passenger seat with my hand stuck out towards my dad. I remember him holding it and trying to comfort me because he thought I was in pain or something. I’m 99% sure I was just confused and a little overwhelmed with the surgery feeling like a LITERAL blink of an eye. I wasn’t sad or hurting or anything like that. What’s cute is that my best friend got her wisdom teeth taken out just months before I did and claimed she was crying for me. I ended up doing the same thing, asking both my mom and my dad if she was okay and if I could text her to tell her I was awake. I also remembered seeing my brother get escorted from the exit doors into the backseat next to me. He had his eyes closed and mouth open saying shit like “I am fully awake and fully conscious” knowing DAMN well he was nowhere near planet earth. He swears he never said that but I remember him trying to act all hard so vividly. OKAY THIS IS GETTING LONG—. To conclude my little story time, I have to specify that this happened the summer after 8th grade and my Outsiders obsession was still so new to me because I read it 4th quarter of 8th grade. I was a lot more awake by the time I got home, so I could somewhat slurp down some of the milkshake my dad bought me. My mom and I laid down in her bed and we binged the Karate Kid movies together since she grew up as a Ralph Macchio/Michael J. Fox kind of girl lol. She also knew that I was really into The Outsiders and said I would like Karate Kid because I thought Ralph was sooo cute. My cheeks were bruised and puffy for WEEKS and I literally hated every single second of recovery. It felt like I could taste my own flesh because there were literal holes in my mouth from where the teeth used to be. To end this (for real this time) on a better note, I think it’s safe to say the surgery wasn’t all that scary. I was really nervous beforehand, but it turned out just fine. I recovered quickly and safely, and that’s all that really matters. So if you’re scared, don’t be! It wasn’t bad at all.

IF YOU READ MY LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE MY WHOLE HEART LOL (ts was NAWTTT little, it was longer than all of the headcanons combined)

TYSM FOR READING!!!

-Sophia 🫶🏼

[pleafyistired]

i have some ideas. So here is my two cents in this situation, but i think less people have the same idea as me lol, mostly its the “player killed off all or at least part of their emotion”, but i have a different look at the situation. So long ramble under the cut

i dont think theyre “negative” emotions. The ghost chef spoke abt “purifying” ourselves for the sword to deem ourselves worthy sure, and “builderman” said we have to face our negative emotions to do so, but it wasnt builderman, so i dont know if people should particularly trust his word. /silly

the swords, every swords have to come with a price, somehow. The venomshank with perhaps the tamest sacrifice that could be avoided/almost reversable, and literally no death count. Meanwhile the firebrand and the ice dagger killed like a whole pirates gang and a kingdom. Small or large, we mostly see we have to sacrifice, something or somehow, to have these swords.

we also see how the swords warped our worst emotions to its advantage for its sacrifices. This is goddamn in your face with the firebrand, but all the other swords you can easily see that. So ghostwalker, when the player touched it, clearly also would try to warped our worst emotions to try to take something from that player, as a sacrifice.

but not our emotions that’s being sacrificed here. Thats more the strings of manipulation to its favour. But the very aspects of our being that keeps us alive, falsely branded as negative emotions by Hatred, was the ultimate price for the player to have the ghostwalker.

greed, solitude and fear. theyre all something that helps a being keeps being alive. a being is greedy to gather resources to keep sustaining its life and desire, a being feels lonely because humans are insanely vulnerable in solitude for too long to the point of insanity, and its a warning call to sustain your mental and psychological health, and a being has fear to be cautious of the danger of the world and to be prepared to do it.

only hatred is an outlier, not needed for a beings survival.

shout out to this comment also, which i think its also a very good point. it clearly demonstrate how the player was slowly manipulated

Hatred is the one emotion warping us to slice ourselves apart. The player "cleanse" oursleves, but purity doesnt necessarily mean good. it just means nothing, nothing at all. to refight hatred, you have to say you feel like nothing after all.

ultimately, the ghostwalker let the player live. but without anything left to keep pushing us to sustain or protect it. a walking ghost. and that is the ghostwalker sacrifice.

i still think the player has emotions. but with the loss of the desire to maintain their life and health, it definitely has an impact on the players emotional state. Definitely not good thats for sure. The player still so obviously cares, why would they go out of our way to help griefer, to save others. But the swords, again and again, blind the people around it for a sacrifice. It doesnt care who. The most willing will be the first to try to reach for it. And the player is that one, until someone else is more willing to bend to its will for sacrifices. Which is the case of the firebrand, why the player try to reach it, but ultimately, it was captain trotter who was the most blinded with grief to be warped.

but thats all, just my theory. i think if ghostwalker was more abt killing negative emotions then theres way worse emotions man. and tbh i dont think throwing dynamite at the emotions is a good way to address it /j but im very opened to see what others think too.

i like this game a lot. /silly

how do you guys interpret player in block tales especially as of demo 4. mostly wondering cuz i see a lotta people going around talking about how theyre completely apathetic after demo 3 because they killed their emotions and whatnot and personally????i dont think theyre completely numb to everything now. they didnt kill their ability to feel, they just "killed" their feelings of greed, solitude, and fear. not including hatred because it was described as "tamed" rather than collapsed, so we can assume its still there.

essentially i do believe theyre able to feel emotions, but maybe they feel particularly numb in situations where theyre supposed to be fearful? clearly they dont feel greed anymore because as shown in demo 4, they were given wishes for ANYTHING and they asked for things relating to other people and a bottle and a shovel so i mean.... yeah man!!!!!! i dont have much to say about solitude but if anyone else does feel free.

but yeah like. all the emotions they really lost were negative ones so it wouldnt make sense for them to be like yeah bro idgaf about anyone anymore!!!!!!!!! just without such emotions acting as obstacles in their mission, its harder for them to get side-tracked. their greed wont lead them off track, their solitude wont stunt them because they wont miss their loved ones, and their fear wont be a blockade between them and the swords. if anything losing those emotions put them on a clearer path, so for them to put everything aside to get the firebrand sorta makes sense????

a lot of this is just my interpretation and i could be spouting absolute nonsense but i need to hear everyone else's ideas!!!!!!! i feel like player definitely has had some mental changes but its kinda hard to explain soooo hi guys!!!!!!! heyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!speak to me

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Revolver Riot-Don Quixote X Reader

I'm going to be honest, this Fic has completely taken over my life over the last week or so and I really just want my life back.

With that said, I must pay my dues and thank the absolutely wonderful Simply Vivian who, without the help of, I probably would've ended up putting my skull into a blender before coming close to finishing this. I am so sorry that you had to deal with my ramblings and borderline insane behaviors, but I am also glad to call you a friend. The same goes out to my dear friend @tragedy-of-commons whom is always a joy to plot and scheme mad ideas with even if they never leave the drawing board. With all of that said, it is time for the fic at large to take center stage. Be sure to grab some popcorn and a drink, this will take a bit for you to get through.

You found it sticking out from under a dumpster.

It smelled like death, the metal was pitted and corroded, the wood was chipped, scratched, and covered in a substance you really didn’t want to know the origin of.

And yet, it called to you. It felt natural in your hand. Cold steel, a cylinder that holds six bullets, a hammer that locks back with a resolute click, a trigger that moves with only a little bit of pressure… it felt like a part of you. Like you just realized you had an extra limb.

So you took it to your home. You painstakingly scraped off the rust, polished the metal, replaced the wooden handle, cleaned the cylinder, repaired the ejector, the trigger mechanism, and replaced the springs, fixing it up and polishing it until it almost looked like new, until even the Identification Markings became legible again.

You did all of this, and you didn’t even have a single bullet to fire.

At least, you didn’t until now.

The distortion growled, its maw filled with white foam and its red eyes boring into you as its twisted arm crushed the skull of its latest victim. A Full-Stop Office Fixer.

And yet… you couldn’t truly focus on that. The only thing that held your eye right now was the round that rolled into your shoe after the Fixer’s weapon was sliced in half.

“.44 Magnum F/S Issue” was stamped into the bottom of the brass casing.

The round was the same caliber that the revolver took, and just like the revolver, it was calling you. Urging you to load it, to fire it, to let death fly through the air.

Before you had even realized it, the revolver was already in your hand and the cylinder opened. All that was left was to choose the path. Load the gun, fire, and then probably die or try to run, get caught by the monster, and then die.

Placing the bullet into the chamber was the easiest thing you ever did.

You slowly raised the barrel of the old, scarred gun with the single bullet you found loaded into it, its weight in your hand feeling both alien and familiar as the monster rushed towards you. The barrel was aimed squarely at the head of the beast as you raised your thumb to the hammer and pulled it back with a heavy, solid click that seemed to reverberate throughout your entire body and to the depths of your soul.

Then, the world turned still as a smooth, amused chuckle reverberated from the base of your skull, its voice worming its way into your brain like a cancer and yet… they were like honey to your mind, drawing you into the deep.

“Do you know what that is? It's something made to kill. Don’t you know that's the only thing it can do? If you pull that trigger, you and that gun will be one in the same. Only good for filling gutters with bodies.”

The voice continued to speak, the sound echoing and reverberating throughout your body as the voices began to overlap and crush each other, doing their best to drown out your thoughts.

However, you managed to force your own voice above the noise, to answer its jabs, questions, and barbs.

“Maybe, but sometimes the only path requires violence to be met with violence. Besides, you don’t pull a trigger, you squeeze it.

This made the voice quiet and the writhing in your brain disappear as something else made itself known, its own voice saying nothing but its presence making something shift in your heart as the world began to move, the monster resuming its charge.

Now however, the apprehension and fear in your heart was no longer there as you closed your eyes and wrapped your finger around the trigger, the shift in your heart beginning to spread across your body and into the gun.

Then you opened your eyes and you squeezed the trigger, making the gun fire with a sound like thunder and the monster being torn to bloody shreds of meat from the power of the bullet fired.

It was now, as the meat and blood rained down with squelches and splats, that the name of the gun flittered into your mind.

“Prepare A Coffin: Django”. You muttered to yourself, speaking the name of this power as you gazed at the gun in your hand.

No longer was it the beat up and scarred weapon you had found and slowly, painstakingly repaired.

Its metal was as black as sin, the wooden handle’s you had replaced were now bone, the entire weapon was decorated with silver baroque-esque engravings, and for each chamber in the cylinder a word was engraved on it.

“Strike True, Strike Powerfully, Strike Mercilessly, Strike Relentlessly, Strike Justly, Strike Endlessly”

Silently, you flicked open the cylinder, revealing that each of the six chambers were now filled with what could only be described as pure energy.

Then, just as silently, you closed it before spinning the revolver on your finger backwards, grabbing it by the frame and then flinging it into the holster on your side as you walked away from the carnage as, for the first time in several days, the sun began to rise and shine through the smog choked sky.

The very next day, you applied for your Fixer License.

By the end of the month, you were a Grade 9 fixer.

Two months later, you jumped up to 7.

Then 6.

Then 5.

It was at this time that you first encountered them.

The LCB. Limbus Company Bus Division.

Specifically, “The Valorous Fixer, Don Quixote” when she tried to run you through in the middle of the transit point between the Backstreets and K Corp’s Nest after you were sent here to see what in the world was making such a racket on the K-Corp Security Channel.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As soon as you stepped onto the scene, a K-Corp Security Guard was sent flying right at you.

In response, you simply stepped to the side before grabbing the guard by the collar and, by using your body as a turntable in tandem with the guard’s momentum, flung them to the side and away from the main battle.

After that was dealt with, you turned your attention to the main event.

What was before you could only be described in one way.

A clusterfuck of ungodly proportions.

One man was swinging a bat, cracking skulls with glancing blows and crushing limbs with barely a sweat.

Another was simply hurling guards through the air and into the walls, ceilings, windows, and other guards with ease despite the metal gauntlets on his hands.

A woman was cutting guards to ribbons, seemingly delighting in the way her victims would fall to pieces before an HP Bullet was administered.

At the same time, an older lady was guarding a being with a clock where their head should be that was making loud whistling noises alongside ticks and tocks.

Alongside the woman guarding the Clock headed person, there was a blonde young man that looked as if he was about to collapse from stress, a man with a what looked to be the leg of a bug in place of his arm that seemed to be trying to calm the Clock person down, a tall and strongly built woman with an axe that was chopping down anyone who got too close with a smile, and a dark haired man who looked like death warmed over.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the battle, there was a red headed woman with a shield and a mace that was absolutely tearing through the guards, batting some to the side with her shield before sending several of them flying with a powerful swing of her mace.

And right in the middle of it all was her.

She was an exceptionally short blonde woman, but the presence and energy she exuded with her ear rattling laugh and the ease with which she swung and impaled with her lance more than made up for it. Her coat was glinting in the light from all of the well polished pins on the poor piece of clothing, at one point her shoes might have been a color between tan and yellow however the accumulated grime, muck, blood, and viscera gave it a rather diluted hue akin to the one you would occasionally find on barrels alongside labels like “HAZARDOUS MATERIAL” or “DANGEROUS SUBSTANCE”.

In hindsight, you probably should’ve listened to that connection and saved yourself the headache of what was to happen over your working relationship with this crew of madmen.

In the moment however, you simply let out a muttered curse before looking to the sky as if something was going to save you from this mess and then when nothing did you began your march into the mosh pit before you.

The tile floor was growing slick with blood and every step you took towards the battle was accompanied by a squelch and a splash as you drew your revolver, reflexively spinning the weapon on your finger until you grabbed it by the frame, allowing you to use the handle of the gun to crack the skull of anyone who came to close if needs be.

As soon as the action was completed, you began to muscle through the crowd, narrowly avoiding wild baton swings from the Guards, bodies being flung through the air by powerful blows, and just managing to barely slip past the swing of the bat that, if it had hit you solidly, would’ve most definitely sent your head and body on separate vacations.

However, before you could count your lucky stars, you were forced to stumble back lest you were crushed by the Mace that just pulverized the tile floor where you stood a split second before.

“I don’t get paid enough for this!” you grumbled as you stomped on the head of the mace before its wielder could pull the weapon back to a ready position.

It was here that you then swung the handle of the gun upwards like a club and into the red haired woman’s chin with the unpleasant sound of bone breaking, stunning her. Capitalizing on this, you grabbed the woman by the collar and then slammed your forehead into her nose, breaking it and sending blood streaming down her face as she stumbled back and you spun the gun on your finger, catching the hammer with your thumb and then swinging the weight of the gun down, cocking it and then firing it twice, both bullets landing cleanly in the woman's gut and making her falter for a split second before she raised her shield to block the blow of another Guard and then crushed his rib cage with her mace, seemingly unbothered by the fact she had two new holes in her gut and her attention now focused on the guards instead of you.

Briefly, you were put off by this as most people tend to be shocked when they have new holes bored into them.

However, you didn’t have much time to focus on this as an ear ringing cry echoed through the building from the center of the crowd.

“COME FOUL VILLAINS!!! THE VALOROUS FIXER, DON QUIXOTE, SHALL VANQUISH THEE!!!”

“Well, that makes my job much easier…” you mumbled to yourself before shoving and pushing guards out of the way, reaching the center of the battle where it was surprisingly calm despite the fact that more than a dozen guards were being dragged away from the woman in the center of it all.

You didn’t have much time to observe her before she noticed you and promptly leveled her lance directly at your center mass.

Realizing her plan you raised your gun and fired twice, forcing her to raise her lance to block the shots or have her brain matter exposed to the open air. Using this to your advantage, you rushed forwards and then dropped to the ground in a slide, aiming your gun at her exposed midsection and firing twice once more. One of the bullets bounced harmlessly off the lance, the other landed cleanly and shot through her causing a cry to escape her as she attempted to crush you with the heft of her weapon by swinging downwards but missing, which left you in a position behind her that you used to scramble to your feet and then kick her in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

You attempted to fire off three more shots at the woman, however she used the momentum you imparted on her to thrust her lance into the ground and use its haft to sling her upwards and away from your shots. However, she didn’t let go of the weapon, quite the opposite in fact as she used her own weight and momentum to bend the haft of the weapon the opposite way she came from.

By the time you realized what she was doing, it was a split second too late as the tile floor and the concrete under it gave way around her lance, launching the shards towards you as you raised your arm to cover your head.

The feeling of the shards piercing your flesh was not one you would ever be keen to repeat, especially seeing as before you could even acclimate to the sudden feeling of large swathes of your flesh being cut open, you had to jump to the side in order to avoid being impaled.

With that said however, you still managed to get two more shots off, both of them landing. One in the calf and the other in her side.

Quickly rolling to your feet, you aimed your gun at the woman and she wheeled around towards you, her lance aimed at you in the same way.

You needed to put an end to this before she got any actual hits off on you, and so you focused, letting the power in your chest flow through to the gun.

This was your EGO. This was your soul made manifest. This was what would decide this fight.

“Prepare A Coffin: Django” you muttered to yourself as you pulled back the hammer with a deafening click, a bandolier of spectral bullets wrapping around your arm and floating over your shoulder, as your eyes focused in on the head and heart of the target before you.

Unfortunately, it seems that your target had the same idea, her clothes shifting and morphing to a red and white uniform with a cuirass and cape over the shirt and her lance changing form to that of one made from blood in a twisted form.

It was going to come down to this, your gun against the target’s lance. Your aim against her speed.

Or, that's what you thought at least.

For better or for worse, it was now that Siegfried made his presence known.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You sat on the curb outside the transit point, your wounds slowly closing with the help of an HP Ampule that the commanding officer of the guard gave you as thanks for keeping her from being flung out into the streets when you first walked in.

Unfortunately, it seems that the Ampule’s didn’t regenerate clothes.

“Oh well, I guess that's why people from other agencies say to buy outfits in bulk.” you muttered to yourself, sure that this was not going to be the last time you said that as you leaned back and looked skywards to the scant few stars that poked through the clouds and the smog.

Unfortunately, your peace was soon shattered by the very woman who was responsible for destroying your clothes.

“HARK GOOD FIXER!!!” the woman shouted as she approached you alongside the rest of the group that Siegfried had just eviscerated, including the person with the Clock Head.

Before you could even stand up, the woman was upon you, her face a few inches from yours and her excited eyes seemingly glowing with energy as she took in a deep breath that, alongside her predilection for shouting, made you realize that you really shouldn't have taken out your ear plugs.

Thankfully, before she could start shouting loud enough to wake the dead, she was pulled back by the man with the bat.

“OI! You ain’t s'posed to run up on folks like that! And don’t be yellin’ like a daft idiot!” the man hissed at the woman, annoyance clear on his face.

“Ah! Right! My apologies good sir Heathcliff!” the woman, finally quieting down, apologised.

This exchange gave you enough time to stand up and, although it was probably rather rude, place your hand on your gun in case things came to blows once more.

“You don’t need to worry about us starting something. That clown in the body suit gave us enough of a trouncing for today.” the red headed woman stated before pointing to her face and saying “Also, you’ve got a mean headbutt.”

“Thanks.” you responded to the compliment blankly, your focus still on the blonde woman who seemed like she was ready to speak once more.

“Good Fixer! My name is Don Quixote and I would like to apologize for my actions! I would also like to apologize for the wounds I inflicted on you during our duel!” The woman named Don Quixote exclaimed, her cheery tone slightly muted in what seemed to be her attempt at a serious apology.

“Meh, no one died or, in your group’s case, stayed dead so I say all's well that ends well. Besides, I got my fair share of shots off on you as well so… let's call it even, yeah?” was your response to the apology as you removed your hand from your gun and held it out in a gesture of goodwill.

Needless to say, Don Quixote reciprocated that gesture, shaking your arm with enough force that you felt like it was going to pop out of your socket.

Following this, the rest of the LCB introduced themselves, or in the case of Dante, was introduced seeing as they could not communicate their own words to you without an intermediary.

However, despite the colorful cast in their little band of misfits, your eyes continued to fall on Don Quixote and her rather charming nature.

That and she was continuously asking questions about your being a Fixer and requested that you signed a page in her book despite your protests of you only being a Grade 5 Fixer that she seemed determined to ignore, leading to you signing your name right as their ride pulled up

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Don Quixote was happily swinging her feet as the bus rattled off to its next destination, her gaze firmly placed on the newest signatures in her book.

To think, not only would she get to meet The Red Gaze on this journey, but Siegfried as well! Not to mention the interesting person she exchanged blows with in the terminal!

Fixers really were amazing!

At the same time, Dante’s voice rang out.

“All right everyone! That’s enough for today. I hope you all sleep well tonight!”

Instantly, Don hopped to her feet, still full of energy despite the battle that just occurred.

“Oh how excited I am for the next leg of our journey!” Don happily thought to herself.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was quite a long while before Don met you again.

It was also in a place that a valorous fixer like herself should NEVER be held in.

A prison. Complete with iron bars and chain handcuffs that, inexplicably, had bite marks on them.

They most definitely did not come from her, and she most definitely did not chip a tooth by trying to chew the chain off.

She was a valorous fixer. She was above such actions.

“They’re just over here.” The voice of a guard grumbled out as he and another person approached the cell but stopped in front of the door with the face of the other person just out of sight.

“I can see that.” a familiar voice stated with an obvious strain in their tone as the familiar sound of a hand being placed on the weapon at their hip reached the sinner’s ears.

“What I CAN’T see is WHY they are in this damn cell!” the voice hissed to the guard, making him take a few steps back.

“T-their division of Limbus Company owes a total of 10,040,000,000 Ahn to T Corp.” the guard explained quickly, obviously looking uncomfortable with the situation he is now in.

In response, the other voice simply let out a deep, frustrated sigh before speaking.

“Of course they do. It wouldn’t be a day in the life of these guys if they didn’t have some sort of mischief going on!”

It was then that the person stepped around the guard.

“Oi! You're that person that broke the bird’s face!” was the first thing Heathcliff exclaimed, earning a swift punch to the gut from Ishmael.

“Oh! Heroic Fixer! You must help us! We are being held here unjustly! They refuse my pleas of release! My pleas of being allowed to join our wonderful and valorous Manager in their escapades of seeking justice upon a foul evildoer! Oh the inhumanity!” Don cried, the back of her hand on her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

“Now that’s a face we haven’t seen in awhile. Any chance you can bust us out of here old buddy old pal?” Gregor asked with a grin while sitting down and leaning against the wall.

A smile graced your face at Don’s dramatics as you moved to lean against the bars but was stopped when the guard put his hand on your shoulder. That was quickly solved when you shot him a look over your shoulder and started drumming your fingers on the handle of your gun.

Now, freely leaning against the bars, you began to speak.

“While I’d love to help you all out, I pulled all the strings a Grade 3 Fixer like myself could to just get down here since I was in the area and heard about a “Group of crazies” that “Lives in a big red bus”. Do you guys have any clue on who THAT could be?” you asked, shooting a glance into the group behind the bars.

Heathcliff made a face before looking away, Outis bit the inside of her cheek, Gregor all of the sudden became very interested in the ground, Yi Sang hadn’t even noticed your arrival and was having a conversation with a mouse, Sinclair had the presence of mind to look embarrassed, Meursault was completely unbothered, and Don Quixote was-

“WHEN DID THOU BECOME A WONDROUS GRADE 3? I THOUGHT THOU WAS A VALOROUS GRADE FIVE!!!”

-Don Quixote.

“Well, times change and promotions get handed out. Especially to people who have enough skill to keep themselves from being killed and specialize in containing distortions like yours truly. That and apparently Siegfried gave me a glowing review of my “Heroics” during that scrap we had back in K-Corp”. You answered with a wince, your ears ringing from Don’s sheer volume.

And yet… you couldn’t find it in you to be irritated with her. Could what they say be true? Does absence actually make the heart fonder?

You quickly batted the thought down, focusing on the issue at hand as opposed to the fact that every time you heard about the exploits of this little group you always kept your ear out for anything about the absolutely wonderful Don Quixote.

“Really? Congrats!” Gregor exclaimed as he started to stand up, a yawn escaping him in the process before he began walking towards the bars, briefly stopping to tap Yi Sang on the head, alerting him to the fact that they had a visitor.

“With all that said though, I think it's time we get down to business. Sorry bout that.” the brown haired man said with a lopsided smile.

“Don’t worry about it. I assume your main concern is how Dante and their investigation team is doing?” you asked, casting your gaze to the group at large.

“At the moment, yeah. I don’t think I was meant for prison life…” Gregor joked rather horribly but still elicited a chuckle from a few of the sinners and yourself.

“Well, last I heard they just talked with someone from the Yurodiviye and that they’ve narrowed down their suspect pool quite a bit, but…” you began to explain before drifting off mid sentence, your fingers tapping on the handle of your gun, this time because you were thinking.

“But? But what! Curse thine vague statements!” Don Quixote wailed in frustration.

“But… something isn’t lining up quite right to me. For example, none of the victims were actually murdered, only their time. If it was about vengeance it would be bloodbath after bloodbath but this… it feels like a statement.” You clarified, your fingers still drumming away on the handle of your gun.

However, before the Sinners could question you or you could further explain your line of thinking, the sound of boots crashing against the floor in a sprint reached your ears.

A split second later, you were surrounded by Dante, and three people dressed in almost comically stereotypical detective outfits that you had a sneaking suspicion Don Quixote was responsible for.

It took you a moment to realize that the three other people with Dante were Ryoshu with a fake moustache, Hong Lu holding a Magnifying Glass, and Rodya without her trademark grin.

Unfortunately, that is where your understanding of the situation ended as each and every one of them were speaking (or whistling in Dante’s case) absolute gibberish.

Thirty seconds of madness later, the sinners were out of their cage and most of them were already running down the hall.

The one exception being the ever unique and energetic Don Quixote.

“Hark! Typically one sends a knight off with some wish of good luck!” the short fixer exclaimed, a sparkle in her eyes.

“I- uh… good luck?” you managed to stammer out, your mind still not quite caught up to the whirlwind of information and craziness that just occurred.

This, apparently, was not the wish for good luck Don Quixote wanted as she immediately began to pout and the sparkle in her eyes switched to a look of mischief that put you ill at ease.

However, before you could act on this, Don grabbed you by the collar, pulled you down towards her, and kissed you.

By the time you realized what just happened, the blonde woman was already running off, and she had the gall to be blushing as well.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It wasn’t until Dante and Co. were walking back to the bus that Don realized what she did.

Really, it's a miracle she figured it out this quickly.

Though, the fact she dropped her lance and promptly curled up into a ball on the street as she covered her face with her hands definitely earned her a few strange looks from both the citizens and the Sinners.

And so, here she was, being hauled around under Heathcliff’s arm as Meursault carried her lance as he was the only one actually capable of picking it up.

“Good grief lass, what’s got you in such a state?” Heathcliff muttered as he adjusted the extra deadweight he was carrying.

“I hath done a horrible thing!” the blonde woman wailed, her face still red from embarrassment.

“Eh, I doubt that lass. You might be a right headache sometimes, but you ain’t the type to do somethin mean or bad on purpose.” Heathcliff mused, twisting his head to the side, forcing several cracks out from his neck.

“Thine compliments are appreciated good Sir Heathcliff! Alas, mine sin is one of not adhering to the correct procedure!” Don Quixote exclaimed, sorrow and an uncharacteristic shame clear in her voice.

Heathcliff raised his eyebrow, turmoil and apprehension clear in his eyes as he thought over his next words very carefully.

“Well, I know I’ll probably regret offering, but how bout’ this. If you start walkin on your own all the way back to the Bus, I’ll listen to your problems for a tick.” Heathcliff offered despite the voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was NOT a good idea.

“Oh? I… No, the offer is appreciated, good Sir Heathcliff! but I cannot add my own troubles to yours!” Don Quixote declared her desire to speak of her own woes being overtaken by the care she has for her dear comrades.

“You’d be doin me a favor, Don Quixote. Really. I need to take my mind off things for a bit to get my thoughts in order and helping you sounds like a good distraction.” Heathcliff quietly whispered to Don, his own tone becoming ever so slightly haggard as the events that led up to now continued to take their toll.

Don briefly looked like she wished to argue before shaking her head in agreement.

A few moments later, Don had weaseled out of Heathcliff’s grasp and took her lance from Meursault’s care with a heartfelt thanks.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Within the hour, Don and Heathcliff were sitting on the floor in the blonde fixer’s room, a thermos of tea in Heathcliff’s hand and two cups in the other alongside a collection of sugar packets and a stirring straw..

“Sorry to intrude on your flat, but my spot isn’t… pleasant for visitors at the moment.” Heathcliff muttered as he placed the thermos and cups on the floor.

“Worry not! Mine own accommodations are rather messy as well! Fear no judgement from me!” Don happily exclaimed, gesturing to her eclectic collection of objects around the room.

“That’s not-” Heathcliff began before letting out a chuckle and speaking once more to say “Thanks lass, that means a good deal more than you think.”

“Thou art welcome!” Don said with a smile as she popped open the lid of the thermos to pour the tea into both cups with a level of care and concentration that was rarely found on her face before she grabbed the sugar packets and dumped them into her cup and then used the straw to dissolve the sugar.

“Now then, time to get down to business. What in the world had you so down in the dumps earlier?” the scarred man asked as he picked up his own cup.

At the same time Don held her cup with both hands as she mulled over her thoughts before speaking.

“There is someone I wished to court. However, I… was rather forward when I saw them last and kissed them unprompted…”

Heathcliff had to fight down the chuckle that formed in his throat before he spoke.

“That’s all? A snog? To me it sounds like you didn't do anything too wrong.”

“I… perhaps. Still, one typically sends poems and flowers before a kiss do they not?” the blonde woman asked, her voice a great deal more timid and unsure than usual.

“Well, yeah but… sometimes it's better to do away with stuff like that and just come out and say how you feel. Sides, courtin is for folk with not a whole lot goin on between the ears. Trust me, I would know better than most bout’ that.” Heathcliff mused before taking a sip of his tea and letting out a hum.

Don went quiet for a long moment as she thought of Heathcliff's words, looking down into her half finished cup of tea.

And in response, Heathcliff simply waited and drank his tea, refilling his cup as needed.

Then, Don Quixote came to a decision.

“I think you are right, good Sir Heathcliff! Come the morrow I shall ask our valorous manager for the day off and seek out the one my heart is set on!” she exclaimed, her energy and joy returning.

And, though he would suffer the pain of death thousands of times over before admitting it, seeing this brought a smile to Heathcliff’s face.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“In light of recent events with T Corp and the Time Killer alongside the fact that Vergillius is in a good mood, we have the rest of today off!” Dante declared joyously

At the same time, Charon looked back at the bus and said “Be quiet Tick-Tock. Verg is in a big bad mood.”

“In light of recent events with T Corp and the Time Killer, alongside the fact that Vergillius is in a bad mood, we have the rest of today off.” Dante quietly corrected themself.

However, by the time the words left Dante’s clock, a certain member of their crew was already out the door and running towards the heart of the color drained piece of the city.

“Ha! Looks like the lass is keepin true to her word.” Heathcliff of all people said with a chuckle.

“Love is a truly beautiful thing. Fleet of foot it may be, those who grasp its form and hold tight are blessed eternally.” Yi Sang mused as he looked towards the slowly disappearing form of Don Quixote.

“What?” Dante muttered, confused not by Don’s sudden flight, but by the fact this seemed to be something Heathcliff was expecting.

“Nothin. Oi! Bird! I’m guessin you're gonna be headin’ off to the hair salon?” Heathcliff jabbed at Ishmael, ignoring the Manager of their little group.

“Fuck you Heathcliff! At least I didn’t put us all in the Middle’s shit list by stealing coupons.” was all Ishmael said in response.

Briefly, Gregor looked as if he was going to correct Ishmael by pointing out their scrap with the Twinhook Pirates but was stopped with a glare from the red headed woman.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Don soared through the streets, her feet finding themselves more in the air than upon the ground as she sought you out.

In the process she… may or may not have had to run across the roof’s of a few cars, nearly trampled some poor citizens, and almost ran face first into a pole…

Still, it was all in service of a good cause!

She just… needed to find a certain Fixer!

Don rounded a corner, her noble steed skidding on the sidewalk from her haste.

Then she was off, slipping through the crowd and towards the place she saw you last.

Had she thought about what she was going to say?

Not a single letter.

Had she considered your confusion at her actions?

Briefly.

Had she mused over Heathcliff’s advice?

Most definitely.

Had she wondered if what she was going to do was right?

She had agonized over it.

But now was not the time for second guessing or hesitation.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Why am I letting you lay on my nice office carpet?” the collector asked, his eyes peeking over the file in his hand.

“Because you're a good person?” you mumbled, your arm over your eyes as you lounged on the floor.

“That is most certainly not it.” the collector said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, it sounded wrong as soon as I said it out loud.” you sighed before reaching up to the desk and pulling yourself up.

You then promptly flopped into the chair opposite of the collector.

A quiet moment passed before either of you spoke.

“So… any chance T Corp has figured out how to rewind time?” you asked as you massaged your left temple, exhaustion clear on your face.

“That is above my pay grade. If you wish to make an inquiry about such subjects I recommend speaking to R&D.” the collector answered simply and succinctly.

“Meh, I probably shouldn’t. If I went through that again I might actually become a vegetable.” you muttered in response.

“Hmm. I agree. You have taken up my office floor for the past ten hours.” The Collector stated, a slightly irritated edge clear in his voice.

“Yeah… thanks for that.” you grumbled before standing, your joints popping and cracking as you did.

“Thank me by getting out of my office and not wandering the prison blocks like a concussed lemming.” was all the mechanical man said in response.

In turn you simply said “Fair enough.” before walking towards the door and leaving the rather irritated collector to his devices.

Still, it wasn’t the worst place you had spent a night in. A solid 7 out of 10. The carpets were surprisingly soft.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Ugh, I could murder a plate of breakfast right now, some Orange juice would be nice as well.” you grumbled with a yawn as you stepped out from the artificially purified air of the T-Corp office to the exceedingly polluted air of The City.

Stretching your arm over your head as you walked down the steps of the office, you began to consider where you should stop for a bite.

“I remember hearing that there was a good diner somewhere around here. There’s also that bakery I passed on my way over, mix that with a quick run to the market and I should be able to cobble something together that could pass for food. Then again, I could probably find a HamHamPangPang with a bit of looking…” you muttered to yourself as you stepped off of the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

However, before you could further deliberate on your choice of meal, you heard a shout.

“HARK GOOD FIXER!!! I REQUIRE THINE EARS!!!”

You turned to look at where the noise came from just in time to see a blur of yellow before being knocked off your feet when something crashed into you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Don, for her part, had the decency to at least look a tad embarrassed in the booth across from you as she held the ice pack over her bruised eye.

“You and I really need to stop meeting like this.” you said with a chuckle that you immediately regretted when the bruise you received from Don crashing right into your chest was jostled by the movement.

“W-what dost thou mean?” Don asked, confusion and a little bit of apprehension in her gaze.

“Every time we meet one or both of us always seems to get a little banged up after the fact.” you responded, the grimace on your face turning to a grin.

“Oh! I see.” Don muttered, going quiet once more and just in time for the waitress to walk up to the table.

“Anything I can get you two? We’re doing our breakfast special today, a breakfast crescent ring with syrup.” the waitress asked, raising her notepad and pen.

“Oh! That sounds pretty good! I’ll have the breakfast special with OJ, some extra hashbrowns, a stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, a few muffins, french toast, and some breakfast burritos with chorizo on the side. Thanks.” you responded, earning an eyebrow raise from the waitress.

“You… are… welcome!” the waitress said as she speedily noted down your order before turning her attention to Don and asking “What about you miss?”

“I-i will have the same as my compatriot here! but please change the Orange Juice for milk and you need not worry about an accompanying dish of chorizo for me!” Don exclaimed, her mind being slingshotted down from the stormy clouds she had it stuck in and right back into her still nervous form.

“You got it. Also… if two of you don’t mind me asking… are the two of you Fixers?” the waitress asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Yes ma’am. I’m curious, what gave it away?” you responded with a smile.

“Well, you are walking around with a gun and not many folk do that. That and typically it's only Fixer’s and highly augmented people that make big orders like this.” the waitress responded truthfully, a smile forming on her face before saying “With that said, I better hand your order off to the kitchen.” and walking away from the booth.

Unfortunately for Don, this also meant that your attention was now solely focused on her poor blonde head.

“So then, I… think you and I need to have a talk while we’re waiting on the food.” you told the blonde haired woman before you as you shifted around in your seat, trying and failing to get comfortable.

“I… concur. However, before we begin, I would like to speak my reasoning for seeking thou out so early in the morn. Is that agreeable with thee?” Don asked, nervously fiddling with the pins on her coat.

You nodded, allowing Don to have the lead in this conversation neither of you were truly prepared to have.

Don began to speak, or attempted to at least, as instead of words it came out in the form of stuttering gibberish that she stopped right in the middle of before taking a deep breath and trying once again.

“I do not regret the action I took last night. What I do regret is that I was unable to spend the time after with you to explain why I did it. So, using the time I have with thee now, I shall begin to do so.” Don began before sitting up straight and looking you in the eyes for the first time since last night; taking on a far more elegant and composed appearance than you had ever seen from her.

“If I may be so bold, I would like to say this. I think quite highly of thee, not just as a Fixer, but as a person. You have been exceptionally understanding of not just my fellows, but my own self as well and that has felt… nice. Nay, not just nice, it has felt wonderful. Many people find me to be far too much of… everything. They try to hide it as best they can, alas, I can always tell. Yet, of the times we have met, not once have I seen the look that most others have when they meet me. Quite the opposite in fact, you seem to welcome my presence and that is something I am truly astonished by. That astonishment has, over time, transformed into admiration, and then… into the thing that made me kiss thee last night. Something I believe to be genuine attraction.” Don explained, a nervous smile forming on her face as she spoke.

In response, you had to ask yourself a question before you could speak to the woman before you, one you had labeled as a force of nature.

The question was this.

“Do I feel the same?”

Near instantly, your mind supplied dozens and dozens of instances where you’ve caught yourself thinking about her, or listening for any scrap of news about her, or seeing something that made you go “That reminds me of Don Quixote”.

You had your answer.

And saying it would be far easier than loading that bullet was.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As you walked out the door of the Diner, Don right next to you, you realized something.

You had no fucking clue to do next.

Should you try and hold her hand? Should you play it cool? Should you ignore that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach?

Thankfully, before you continued to spiral into choice paralysis, Don swooped in to save the day by wrapping her arm around yours with a massive smile.

And so, with Don Quixote’s arm wrapped around your own and your wallet a fair bit lighter, the two of you were off to nowhere in particular, simply allowing your feet to carry you along the path Don was dragging you.

“Y’know, if you smile any bigger your head will probably fall off.” you joked with a small chuckle in your voice.

“Truly? Tis would be a pleasant death in my eyes!” Don exclaimed, entirely serious despite the joy in her voice which only served to elicit a laugh from deep within you.

After that, the two of you began to chitter and chatter about everything and nothing.

Don seeing shapes in Ishmael’s hair, you wondering if Dante’s flames could be considered hair, Don mentioning the time Yi Sang tried to eat a poisonous potato, you telling Don about how you ended up as a fixer and dozens of other things.

However, in the middle of it all, Don stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked right into a store window before bolting into it, leaving you stunned and confused.

A minute later, the living whirlwind returned, a bag in hand that she handed to you.

Inside of it?

A pair of iron spurs.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Your every step was now paired with a metallic clink, courtesy of the spurs Don had gifted you.

“It seems mine eyes were true! You do look quite dashing with those spurs!” the blonde fixer declared, her arm still wrapped around your own.

You could feel your face grow a little bit hotter at Don’s words.

“I… thank you for the compliment Don.” was your response to her words while you fought against the urge to wear a proud smile on your face.

“No need for thanks, I am simply speaking the truth!” Don exclaimed as Mephistopheles appeared on the path, the rest of the Sinners either returning to the bus such as Rodya and Gregor who she seemed to have dragged along to carry bags at the same time as Heathcliff and Dante who were returning from the mansion or sitting out in front of the bus such as Yi Sang and Sinclair who were playing chess while Hong Lu read a book, Ishmael played solitaire, and Outis and Meursault were silently guarding the door as Ryoshu brushed up on her more traditional art skills with paint and canvas as Faust tinkered with random pieces of Mephistopheles. At the same time, Vergiillius was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Charon who was quietly snoozing as the Red Gaze looked at the slowly setting sun.

It was a… peaceful sight and most definitely not something you could ever associate with the band of mad bastards in the LCB unless you saw it for yourself.

It was also at this time that Don stopped walking, a pensive expression replacing her massive smile.

“It seems… that our day must come to an end…” Don muttered sadly, the arm that she had wrapped around you all day moving down so she could hold your hand.

“Yeah… welp, I guess we’ll just have to have twice as much fun on the next day we get together.” You responded, gently squeezing her hand.

This returned the smile to Don’s face and movement to her feet as, once more, you were being dragged along by the living tornado that was the small blonde Fixer before you.

And… you couldn’t say that you disliked the feeling.

“HARK!!! HARK MY DEAR FRIENDS AND COMRADES!!! I HATH RETURNED!!! WE SHALL HAVE A MOST HONORED GUEST AT DINNER TONIGHT!!!” Don shouted, waving her free hand in the air as her walk became a run that you had to keep up with unless you wanted to actually be dragged across the ground.

“EVENING EVERYONE!!!” You shouted alongside her, doing your best to keep in tune with Don’s pace.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Aww… Little Chiquita looks so happy.” Rodya whispered with a dramatic sniffle as she looked out through the window and at you and Don saying your goodbyes.

“You're probably not supposed to spyin on em, Rodya.” Gregor stated, punctuating his words with a nudge.

“The lass’s got someone she fancies, y’all don’t gotta be all shocked about it.” Heathcliff muttered with a roll of his eyes and a slight smile on his face.

“You say that but you were the one to look the happiest about her partner in crime.” Ishmael jabbed, making Heathcliff stutter and stumble over his words.

“Hmm… G.J.D.Q.” Ryoshu whispered to herself, a slightly less sadistic smirk on her face than usual.

Sinclair, of course, heard this but decided it was in his best interest to not translate.

At the same time, Rodya suddenly dropped from her position at the window, startling poor Gregor.

A few short moments later, Don walked back on the bus and she was practically glowing.

“That was sickening. But… congratulations, Don Quixote.” Vergillius muttered as she passed his seat, earning a few shocked looks from the sinners.

“gasp Is there actually a heart underneath that prickly shell?” Rodya exclaimed, earning a dirty look from Gregor that seemed to say “Don’t be a smartass to the guy who can turn us into meaty jello”.

“Oi! Bird! Is the world comin to an end?” Heathcliff shouted at Ishmael and received a shrug in response.

“One who wraps a heart in stone often-” Yi Sang began before receiving a glare from their guide that made him become exceedingly interested in the seams of the seat he was sitting on.

“I… Thank you! Sir Vergillius!” Don exclaimed with a wide smile.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After that wonderful day, You and Don come up with a schedule.

Every day at the same time, come rain or shine, you would receive a call from Don or she would receive a call from you.

Neither of you had much free time due to your jobs, but you both carved out a little bit for each other.

The two of you would talk about the little things, about the interesting things seen, about the minor annoyances that alway seemed to pile up on the worst days.

It went on like this for a while, and every so often you would hear the others give a greeting, or cause some sort of chaos.

It was needless to say which one you heard most often.

But then, one day, after one of those shifts where nothing seemed to go right and the City itself was out to make you slam your head into a wall out of frustration, you received a call a fair bit earlier than usual.

Assuming that Don had gotten off early, your heart soared and you could feel the stress begin to fall off of you.

However, when you picked the phone up, the stress was nearly instantly replaced by fear and concern as, before a single word could escape your mouth, Don spoke.

"Allow me to ask… if I became a monster that eats others… could you find it in your heart to still love me?" Was the first thing you heard from Don’s voice over the phone.

"I… of course I would still love you, but I would also have to try and stop you and… that would break my heart." you answered truthfully, the pit in your stomach only growing.

"I see. Thank you, that was the answer I was hoping for." was all that Don said before the call disconnected, making your unease grow into fear.

Something was wrong.

Deeply wrong.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As Ishmael’s head was separated from her neck by Sancho’s arrow and Yi Sang was split and half by her sword, Dante was contemplating taking a brick and smashing their clock face into it.

The urge to use all of the nasty and unpleasant words they had learned from Ishmael, Heathcliff, and Ryoshu was becoming stronger and stronger with each passing second and with each sinner that was dismembered.

It was obvious that they had no hope of managing to fight her off, especially considering how she shredded through even the strongest of the Identities with ease.

Dante returned their gaze to the battlefield and wanted to sob at what they saw.

Only two sinners remained, Hong Lu and Heathcliff, both of whom were one strong breeze away from keeling over.

Heathcliff’s left arm was a mangled mess of bone and his entrails were being kept from falling out by what Dante assumed to be sheer force of will.

At the same time, the right side of Hong Lu’s face looked as if it had been next to an explosion and considering the fact that shard’s of Gregor’s spine was lodged into it, that might as well have been true. Thankfully, his arms and legs were still functional, but the hole through his torso that was roughly the size of a Billiard Ball and the labored breathing that was slowly turning to a gurgle told Dante that Hong Lu was currently drowning in his own blood.

If they managed to survive this, Dante would be sure to do something nice for him.

However, with every passing second that If was becoming bigger and bigger.

Especially when Heathcliff charged in and was promptly sliced into four pieces, leaving Hong Lu alone.

A split second later, Sancho had ripped Hong Lu’s spear arm off before tearing his head off with the same ease typically reserved for opening a cabinet or grabbing some leftovers out of the fridge.

And then, only Dante was left.

Needless to say, they were doing their best to come up with some form of last words that weren’t some variation of “Fuck My Life”.

Then Sancho raised her lance and pointed it at the crimson clad manager of Limbus Company.

In response, all Dante said was “Oh! It gets worse. Yay.”

At the same time, Dante could swear they heard some form of metal clinking from behind them, however, more pressing events were holding their attention such as the lance that was about to run them through in a few seconds.

And so, Dante closed what they called their eyes to make their peace.

But then, a sound that could only be described as screaming reached their ears.

“Sorry Dante, your show isn’t over just yet. You and your clowns got a few stops left on tour.” you told the clock headed being as you held back Sancho’s lance with your gun, sparks flying as she tried to pierce through your weapon.

Dante was, understandably, shocked by this.

“I- wha- how!?” Dante screeched and ticked and whistled.

“Sorry. Don’t speak clock. Get out of here while you can. Bring back up if possible.” You grunted as you continued to try and hold Sancho back, but being pushed back in the process.

A split second later, Dante was running as fast as their legs could carry them.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Now, it was time… time to try and fight D-

No.

Not her.

This isn’t anyone you know right now, this is a target and you are on a job.

Primary Objective: Keep the target from killing Dante.

Secondary Objective: Live to tell the tale.

The target placed its second hand on the lance, further increasing the pressure you were holding back and, although you knew Dante had yet to fully get out of the target zone, you were being pushed back and were about to be overwhelmed.

“Desperate times, desperate measures.” you muttered to yourself before enacting your half baked plan that would have any Fixer moderately concerned about their well being taking a mental facepalm in shock of your stupidity.

However, before you could realize how absolutely mentally deficient your next action was, you slipped to the side and under the target’s lance and, at the same time, you raised your gun over your shoulder and towards the head of your opponent before firing twice, not truly expecting the bullets to find their targets but hoping that it would return control of the longer range towards yourself for a moment in an attempt to get your bearings. Not to mention you were hoping that it would keep the target focused on you instead of Dante.

At the same time, the bullets you fired at your target only managed to slip through its hair and so, in response, it swung its lance in a wide arc towards you that you only just barely managed to avoid having your eyes carved out by but, unfortunately, not the tip of the weapon slicing open the area from under your left eye and to under the right being sliced open down to the bone.

You barely even felt the wound open, your skin just gave way like paper before a sharp pair of scissors.

“It would be best to avoid getting hit unless I wanted to give my entrails some heavily polluted air.” you briefly thought to yourself as the familiar but unpleasant taste of iron reached your tongue.

However, for better or for worse, your target was now focused on you due to your retaliation.

Strangely though, it did not press the attack. It simply looked… not at you but past you.

Then, it spoke.

“I… do not wish to fight you.”

You let out a sigh before responding, your gun lowered to your side.

“Neither do I but… someone quite dear to me asked me a question a few hours ago. She asked me “If I became a monster that ate others, would you still love me?” and in response I told her that I would, but I would have to stop her and that it would break my heart to do so.”

Then, with a speed one would only typically find in lightning, you raised your gun and fired three shots.

Surprised, the target raised its lance, deflecting two of the shots but taking the third straight into her gut and forcing it to stagger back in shock at your sudden assault.

Pressing this advantage, you rushed forward, your free hand grabbing a handful of dirt, rocks, and other pieces of debris that you then threw into its eyes, blinding her for a moment that you used to fire your knee into the fresh wound before blasting three more shots into it all of which connected and sent it further backwards until it stabbed its lance into the ground, stopping the momentum you had forced onto it.

Then, it spoke once more.

“I see. It seems neither of us will be swayed.”

The target then raised its lance and stood up straight, the wounds you had inflicted slowly closing before your very eyes.

This was all the warning you received before, in the blink of an eye, the head of its lance was a split second from piercing your skull.

With less than no time to spare, you managed to avoid the blow. Receiving a new gash on your cheek in the process.

However, this was exactly what the target wanted as blood flowed into its empty hand, forming a sword before swinging it upwards, cutting a deep gash from your hip to your shoulder that immediately spouted blood onto the face of your attacker.

However, the look in its eyes told you all that you needed to know.

It had meant to slice you in two, but for some reason it couldn’t follow through.

Intending to rectify this mistake, it swung the blade down onto where your neck was a microsecond before.

Unfortunately for it, you had already leapt back and aimed your revolver, firing off several shots in quick sucsession. All of which it simply sliced out of the air with its sword.

Landing on your back and rolling back into a crouch, you raised your revolver as you placed your free hand over the deep wound you had just been gifted.

“Damn it all. Things are already going blurry.” you thought to yourself as you removed your hand from the wound and briefly hazarded a glance at your hand which, to your perspective, seemed to be multiplying.

Blood loss is a real bitch.

However, before you had much time to contemplate your next move, you heard the target speak.

“La Aventura Ha Terminado…”

You could feel the world change and the blood seeping from your wound being drawn away from you. Not to mention that the already dwindling and limited supply of blood in your body was being pulled in as well.

You forced your eyes to look up despite the fact that things had stopped going blurry and were now actively fading into black.

However, you still retained enough of your sight to see what was occurring before you.

What could only be described as a tornado of blood was forming in D- the target’s hand. Blood was being drawn from the earth, from the corpses of the sinners strewn about the battlefield, and from your own body into the singularity.

And so, despite the fact thoughts themselves were becoming difficult, you forced yourself to speak.

“Prepare a grave: Django…”

The spectral bandolier of bullets wrapped around your arm and over your shoulder once more for what you were sure to be the final time as you lined up the barrel of the gun with the heart of the target.

Every single fiber of your being was shutting down now.

You could feel your heart attempt to pump what was not there. You could feel your lungs try and oxygenate blood that, quite simply, didn’t exist in your body.

And yet, you still had strength for one more action.

One more pull of the trigger.

No hesitation could be had, no mistakes can be made.

“Farewell, my dearest love.” the target stated as the tornado took its form, a lance more than double her-

Damn it all.

“Adios, my most beloved knight.” was all you had left in you to say.

She leveled her lance at you, and charged.

You allowed your eyes to close, and pulled the trigger.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Things were dark for a long, long while.

You could catch snippets of words and conversations every now and then.

Half were technical gibberish you couldn’t understand, the others were so divorced from the context behind them they might as well be in a different language.

Eventually though, you managed to find the strength to open your eyes.

And the first thing you saw… were a pair of blood red eyes.

“So then, the dead have finally awakened.” Vergilius grumbled, doing his utmost best to mask the miniscule amount of relief he felt with a massive amount of irritation.

“Where-” You attempted to sit up but a wave of dizziness that made you feel like the entire world was on spin cycle put a stop to that.

“Where’s Don?” you asked after the world stabilized.

“She’s more than likely still locked up in her room. She hasn’t left since the mess in La Manchaland was put to a stop.” Vergillius answered before standing up from his chair.

“Rest for a moment. I’ll send one of the others to guide you to her later on.” the Color Fixer ordered, leaving no room for argument or retort before walking out of the room.

And so, seeing as the slightest movement currently made your whole world spin and shake, you did exactly what you were ordered to.

Lay down, and rest.

Sure, your mind was moving a million miles a minute, and you really wanted to have the comforting weight of your Gun right now, but there was nothing you could do.

It took all of five minutes for you to try and stand up again despite the world feeling like it was in a fucking blender.

Briefly, you mused that Don’s nature rubbed off on you.

However, before you had much time to think on that, you felt your legs give out from under you and you mentally prepared yourself to eat a nice helping of the floor.

Instead, you fell into someone that smelled faintly of sea, smoke, and iron.

“Outis?” you mumbled drearily as she guided you to sit on the edge of the bed you had woken up in.

“It seems it was a good thing the Manager asked me to check up on you. Yi Sang and Faust would be unhappy if all the hard work they did to keep you stable long enough for more extreme measures to arrive were tossed to the wayside.” the older woman told you as she pulled up the seat Vergilius was previously sitting in and reaching into her jacket, eventually pulling out a gun and offering it to you.

Your gun.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on it.” you said in thanks as you took it from her hand.

“Thanks are not needed. In the Smoke War those firearms were issued to officers but you seem a bit young to have served. I assume you found it somewhere?” Outis explained as she straightened her uniform.

“Yeah… under a dumpster about a year ago. Then the White Days And Dark Nights happened and… boom, an EGO by the name of Django for me. All thanks to this gun, and a single bullet.” you briefly recounted as you turned the gun over in your hands, earning a hum from Outis.

However, before the conversation continued any further, you heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” you shouted, much to the aggravation of your still recovering body.

A moment later, Yi Sang stepped through the door.

“Good evening. Vergillius asked me to be your guide to Don Quixote’s room. He also told me to not make any puns lest I wish to suffer the pain of a thousand deaths.” Yi Sang declared with a stone face before smiling slightly and saying “Kidding.” which earned him a nasty look from Outis.

“I appreciate the thought, Yi Sang but…” you began before trailing off.

“A strong wind would be the death of you, much less supporting someone else’s weight.” Outis finished the thought, making Yi Sang’s shoulder’s droop slightly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Three minutes and much headache later, you were being guided by Outis as Yi Sang struggled to help you along, his already pale face growing paler with every step.

You were pretty sure that by the time he got to Don’s room he would be about ready to keel over.

This prediction turned out to be true as, the second he had you propped up against the wall, he collapsed into a heap, taking in deep and ragged breaths.

Outis knocked on the door and received no response before trying the door, only to fail in the process of opening as it was locked.

Outis then gestured at the door, inviting you to attempt opening it.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the door and fired your gun before pounding on the door and shouting “Hey! You’ve got a visitor!”.

A split second later, as you were part way through pounding on the door, it opened and you fell into the room, chased by the shout of Outis and the wheezing screech of Yi Sang before they were blocked by the door slamming shut.

“Ugh, hello there Don.” you groaned as you rolled onto your back to face the woman who had put you in the infirmary, and the woman you had a great deal of affection for.

“W-why are sniff you here!?” Don attempted to shout, but her voice was far too hoarse from crying to attempt that.

“Well, someone exceedingly dear to me was in immense trouble and-” you began before being interrupted.

“NO! Why are you HERE!? Why did you come looking for me!? I nearly KILLED you!” Don screamed, tears now continuously streaming down her face.

You summoned all the strength you had left in you and forced yourself to your feet with a smile on your face before answering.

“Like I said, someone dear to me was in trouble. Besides, I promised her that she and I would have a nice day out when we got the chance.”

Don balled up her fists and looked down at her feet as she let out another body shuddering sob.

And then, in the blink of an eye, you were tackled to the ground, all of the air in you knocked out as Don screamed and sobbed into your chest.

And in response? You did the only thing you could.

You held her close, and you let her scream, and sob, and cry, until she couldn’t anymore.

And when she’s ready, you’ll help her up as many times as it takes because…

You know that she’d do the same for you.

Hell, she probably will one day.

And when that day inevitably comes, you know that she’ll be infinitely better at this than you are.

Why?

Because she’s The Valorous Fixer, Don Quixote.

[reshramlove1ob]

Angel of Truth AU

I just wanna yap about this AU that i made 😇

Basically Shadow Milk tricks Pure Vanilla into believing he is the “Angel of Truth” there to protect him, reality is he’s just trying to snag his soul jam whilst breaking down Pure Vanilla. Realizes halfway through he may be in love

This AU was somewhat inspired by The Phantom of the Opera so some story beats are paralleled from that.

This is also just a basic story overview. I don’t actually plan on making this into a fic, a few animatics and art here and there but that’s really it sksksk

So let the ramble begin 😛

The beasts escape WAY earlier than in canon—around Cookie Odyssey. Shadow Milk decides to locate his other soul jam half and spy on Pure Vanilla while cooking up a plan to steal his soul jam back.

His plan is simple; find a time when Pure Vanilla is vulnerable and more susceptible to his manipulation. Then, he’ll swoop the ancient hero away from his friends and break him down until he can steal his soul jam back, all while feeding him lies and making him doubt everything he knows while playing this “guardian Angel” act.

His opportunity strikes during that scene when Hollyberry and Dark Cacao learn that Dark Enchantress is White Lily. When Pure Vanilla is alone, Shadow Milk enchants him with a weak temporary spell to get him to follow him away from everyone while making sure Pure Vanilla also doesn’t suspect anything yet. (My power over you grows stronger yet /lyr /silly)

After leading Pure Vanilla pretty far from the Vanilla kingdom, all the way into Beast-Yeast, and Pure Vanilla eventually falls asleep, Shadow Milk puts up his new disguise as the Angel of Truth—playing the part as the angel meant to protect Pure Vanilla and tell him only the truth. Of course that wouldn’t be the case, he would be telling Pure Vanilla nothing but lies, such as how much his friends hate him now for not telling them the truth sooner, how he is his only true friend, Ect Ect.

Once Pure Vanilla wakes up, Shadow Milk introduces himself as the Angel of Truth. He makes up a story about how Pure Vanilla ran away from his kingdom after being chased down by his friends. Pure Vanilla is doubtful at first, claiming that he doesn’t remember that at all and how his friends would never do that, but Shadow Milk counters by pointing out how he’s in the middle of no where, and how his friends were upset with him for not telling them about White Lily.

After some convincing, Pure Vanilla is mortified. He wants to try and make things right with his friends, so Shadow Milk decides to lead Pure Vanilla in the opposite direction to his kingdom. After all, his plans wouldn’t work if Pure Vanilla found his friends again and learnt the truth.

Time passes, and Shadow Milk is wearing Pure Vanilla down with his lies. But despite everything, Pure Vanilla still holds onto hope. This doesn’t upset Shadow Milk, though—he’s become incredibly intrigued by him and his hope. He wants to know how far he could push Pure Vanilla before his hope shatters and before he succumbs to darkness and hopelessness. He understands that Pure Vanilla still thinks he’s being told the truth, after all, Shadow Milk has gained his trust by now.

Intrigue becomes something…more though. Something Shadow Milk didn’t expect. Was this compassion? Love? Lust? All of the above? It didn’t matter. Shadow Milk needs Pure Vanilla. It doesn’t matter if he has to destroy all of Earthbread, Pure Vanilla would be his.

But he should start small. Perhaps he would feel the same. Shadow Milk makes one-off comments about Pure Vanilla staying with him for the rest of time. After all, he has set into his mind that his friends hate him now. But Pure Vanilla still holds out hope that they can talk things through. Shadow Milk is getting tired of that. After one final proposal, Pure Vanilla declines. His life belongs elsewhere—but his Angel of Truth can tag along! After all, he did like his company. They were friends, after all.

Shadow Milk decides he needs to do something about this and fast. Playing the slow game isn’t working like he hoped, so he needs to do something more drastic. He tells Pure Vanilla to stay out while he “looks for the easiest way to get back to the Vanilla kingdom” (kidnap one of his friends to threaten Pure Vanilla).

While he is gone, Pure Vanilla meets some Faerie cookies, and���White Lily.

Back before the beasts were released, the seal was cracking. Elder Faerie did all he could, but he wasn’t able to stop them from escaping. He painstakingly found all the shards of the Light of Freedom, though, and was eventually able to wake White Lily up. She has since been trying to get the Beasts back into the tree.

She was not expecting Pure Vanilla to be in Beast-Yeast, though. Pure Vanilla is unsure if she truly is White Lily, though, and the same goes for White Lily to him. But their Lights of Truth and Freedom help them know it’s really them. They share a heartfelt reunion, together again. (I’m here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you, let me be your freedom /lyr). Pure Vanilla finally realizes that he truly can make it up to his friends. He explains what happened/what Shadow Milk has been telling him. White Lily feels awful for what she did, but is glad Pure Vanilla was protected by this Angel of Truth, even though she has a sinking feeling that something is amiss. She shakes it off, after all—Pure Vanilla seems fine. But it still lingers in the back of her mind.

Shadow Milk comes back sometime during their reunion, he felt he was gone for too long, and is furious. He didn’t anticipate that White Lily would come back, and not only that, but out of all the land on Beast-Yeast, she finds the area Pure Vanilla is in. He can’t reveal himself yet, for she would know it is him. He watches on from the shadows, listing into their conversation.

White Lily wants to take Pure Vanilla back into the Faerie kingdom, to explain the Beast predicament to him more. Being alone like he was isn’t safe either, according to her. Pure Vanilla, on the other hand, wants to wait for Shadow Milk. He promised him he would wait right there for him. A faerie accompanying White Lily suggests they could go back for om more supplies while the two soul jam holders can help each other in the forest. They agree and once White Lily and Pure Vanilla are alone, Shadow Milk decides he’s had enough. He lunges out and drags Pure Vanilla away, White Lily chasing after him.

Pure Vanilla is confused and tries to explain to Shadow Milk that it’s ok, and that she’s his friend. Shadow Milk tries to lie to Pure Vanilla, but gets called out on it. So he admits it, that he was lying. But it was only to protect him, he swears. Pure Vanilla is understandably upset by this. He’s supposed to be the Angel of TRUTH, only telling him the truth, Shadow Milk’s own words. Pure Vanilla questions what else Shadow Milk lied about, but can’t get far before White Lily catches up to them and demands Shadow Milk to let Pure Vanilla go. Shadow Milk instead informs her that he’ll be taking Pure Vanilla to his Spire of Deceit, and that if she wants him back, she’ll have to come find it. He disappears with Pure Vanilla.

White Lily immediately prepares to go to the Spire. Meanwhile, Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk get into an argument in the spire. Pure Vanilla is demanding he be let free, while Shadow Milk tells him that if he won’t stay willingly, he’ll just make him stay.

White Lily eventually makes it to the Spire. It wasn’t that hard to find—besides, Shadow Milk wants her there. He traps White Lily and threatens her life, saying he’ll put her back to sleep unless Pure Vanilla agrees to stay with him. White Lily begs Pure Vanilla to decline, saying she’ll be fine. Pure Vanilla is basically having a panic attack and is incredibly hurt that Shadow Milk would deceive him like that. (I made an animatic based off this scene pls watch it I think it’s very good 😇)

Now this is where I like to think that there’s 3 possible endings. It’s just silly and adds onto what I can do tee hee

Ending 1: Pure Vanilla’s sacrifice

Despite all her pleading, Pure Vanilla accepts Shadow Milk’s offer. White Lily is freed, but Pure Vanilla is stuck with Shadow Milk forever now.

Ending 2: White Lily’s sacrifice

Pure Vanilla, believing that White Lily has to have a plan (“that spark in her eyes…I trust her”), declines Shadow Milk’s offer. Shadow Milk proceeds to shatter White Lily’s soul jam and flinging her out of the Spire. He then traps Pure Vanilla, amused that he actually thought his declining would stop Shadow Milk from getting what he wants.

Ending 3: The Truth

“Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.” /lyr

Pure Vanilla extends his kindness to Shadow Milk, who is shocked by this. After everything he did, Pure Vanilla still offers to be friends? He still…forgives him? Anger fills his soul. He releases White Lily and tells them both to leave, for now he understands—he doesn’t deserve this cookie whose kindness proceeds him. He’ll probably go back for the soul jam…maybe…possibly…

White Lily and Pure Vanilla hurriedly leave the Spire as it crumbles, escaping just in time. As soon as they get far away from it, they collapse onto the ground, exhausted. They embrace, Pure Vanilla still incredibly upset by the whole ordeal despite forgiving Shadow Milk. He apologizes to White Lily for getting her into that, but she tells him it wasn’t his fault. But now she knows—they’ll need all the help they can get against the Beasts. They were lucky this time.

She then encourages Pure Vanilla to go find Hollyberry and Dark Cacao—she recalled him telling her that they were at his kingdom when he disappeared. He’s still slightly worried, but she tells him that if a Beast can be forgiven, then he can too.

Blah blah blah Pure Vanilla is reunited with his friends blah blah blah happy party blah blah blah yeah happy fun times 😆

That’s all I got for now I hope you all liked it! If you read all that you are…amazing lol!

[blubbercopter]

Having intense feelings for someone (be it platonic, romantic, etc.) and knowing it's probably unrequited is like-- oh okay, let me go rip apart the nearest chew toy with only my teeth while I seethe in my own thoughts and desires that simply won't come into any physical fruition.

Like damn, I just wanna cuddle and take naps together and hold someone while rubbing their back, maybe even a side-dish of kneeling down and taking their hand to kiss it?? I wanna spoil them with good food and wrap them in the softest blanket and make sure they're feeling 110% at ease, because they deserve to be loved like that.

But alas... 😔 I'm stuck here. Just me and my emotions and hardly any way to let it out.

[sleepymccoy]

This feels like a secret but I'm telling you

I've always been a spones girly (and I still am, I love their arguments) but mckirk week is strong on the dash so I tried my hand at it last night and ooh! Jim is a fun pov to write! Knocked out 3k before it even got romantic (the desire is filtered throughout, I'm not writing platonic w a twist ending. He has a crush).

Hope I can finish tonight or tomorrow morning and post still within the week, but even if it's late I know I'm mutual w a few diehard mckirkers so just giving you a heads up ily ❤️

[puddii-ng]

swan lake x valkyrie

[dewwshi]

princess of mithral hall