#and hes so fucking scared and unwilling to move and when he sees someone actually come through the back door he starts having a legitimate-

[unexpectedbrickattack]

.

[ghouljams]

So we’ve seen protective fae ghost! But I NEED to see protective Fae König! You don’t understand! Would it make Liebling more trusting of him? Or would it make them more weary? He seems pretty nervous all the time  and pretty willing to back down for someone in the court, so I need to see him MAD!  Please!

Anyways I LOVE your work! Your an amazing writer and I can’t wait to see what else that beautiful mind of yours comes up with ❤️

Oh goodie, let's make the nasty boy mad! Let's unban him from the shop and make sure Liebling knows he would do anything for her.

You think sometimes that your actual customers might be worse than the Fae that linger around your shop. At least the monsters are polite. At least they follow the rules you have pinned behind the counter.

There's a loud clatter as one of your displays is knocked over. Poppies and peonies rolling across the floor only to be smashed underfoot. You wince, your poor flowers. "Take it outside guys," You call, grabbing a mop to clean up the water starting to pool. The two men who are, unfortunately, human ignore you. Continuing to roughhouse and laugh at the annoyed looks the rest of your patrons shoot them. You glower at them as you try to right your bucket display.

One of them stops you, grinning at your less than pleased expression. "Oi, slag," you grimace, "how about you give me your number, yeah?"

"How about fuck off," You shoulder past him, only to be stopped by the other one.

"Now that's not very nice."

"I'm not very nice," You tell him plainly, "now kindly move."

They bark out a sarcastic laugh before grabbing your arm, "Listen here shop girl, my friend and I are-"

"Are you going to leave or do I have to make you?" You ask, unwilling to listen to whatever bullshit they have to say.

"Oh," One of them grins, "She's gonna make us. Pretty little thing like you, I'd like to see you try." Well, he's got you there. You don't really have anyone else working that could help you, and god only knows the monsters that haunt the place won't intervene without asking the world from you in return. Fuck, you wish that big mother fucker with the teeth was unbanned. His presence alone would probably scare these guys off. He is definitely getting unbanned.

König's head jerks to stare at the door to the shop. The threshold is gone. He doesn't waste time with curiosity, folding himself into the shop almost as quickly as he's allowed. He wonders what changed, what made you finally decide to let him in again. Then he sees them, feels his teeth and claws itch with the overwhelming urge to rip and tear, and wastes even less time.

You hear the low snarl before you see his hands wrap around the men's necks. Barely human as he lifts them up like ragdolls, their hands clawing at his fingers where he squeezes their throats. The deep black claws dig into the soft vulnerable -entirely human- flesh of the men’s necks, blood bubbling to the surface where the razor's edge of König’s claws press. One of them screams, legs kicking out to try and gain any semblance of leverage against the monster holding him tight. 

“They’re just assholes,” You tell him, voice edged with fear. You don’t know what to say to keep him from spilling blood in your shop.

“And soon they will be corpses,” König replies, like it’s that easy. You think it is that easy for him. His hood hardly seems to be in the way when he digs his wicked teeth to one of the men’s trapezius and rips.

A cool hand wraps over your eyes, shielding you from the violence. A gentle voice in your ear above the sickening gurgle of blood as it bursts from the torn musculature, “I know it’s against the rules, touching you, but you don’t want to see this.” 

You feel a sob grip your chest, and press a hand to your mouth out of instinct. The air tastes like iron, like blood, like the sound of splintering bone. You thought there’d be more pleading in death, something other than the animalistic panting and growling. The hand over your eyes shakes in the silence.

“Gib sie mir,” König growls, you can feel the shadow of him in front of you. The hand doesn’t move until you feel it ripped away from you with a shout of pain. König’s eyes stare into you, holding your face in blood stained hands. “It’s just a bad dream, Liebling,” He tells you firmly, his fingers pressing to your forehead as you try to keep your eyes on him and not the warmth soaking into your shoes, “that’s all.”

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Nico prides himself on not being overly emotional. Has he had his breakdowns? Sure. The occasional nightmare that is inevitably accompanied by an unwilling outburst of underworldly powers? Of course. A month or ten of self-inflicted isolation in the literal realm of the dead? Just a perk of his parentage. Hades has to make up for the near-death-experiences and lack of dental somehow.

Maybe, if he is being painfully honest with himself, it would be more accurate to say that he doesn't know how to process his emotions. But then he would have to confront a bunch of uncomfortable questions like why he'd rather stab himself with stygian iron than admit when something is bothering him, so he doesn't. He'll deal with this particular can of worms when the next freakout arrives. Maybe. Or perhaps the one after. Or, if he is in a particularly silly mood, he'll just sneak back into Lotus and stay there for another century. Who is to say, really.

Or maybe what he had actually meant to say was that he tends to be perceived as emotionless by others. Sometimes "reserved", if they want to be nice about it. Or "introverted" - that's another classic.

He doesn't really get it, to be honest. What's so bad about keeping everything to himself? His feelings, his baggage, his problems, his business. There's plenty of space in his repression box! Other people would only make it even more confusing. He never knows whether to be impressed or terrified whenever he meets someone who loudly broadcasts their every mood because like. What the fuck. What the fuck??!

(Besides. When he does feel something strong enough that he can't suppress it anymore - when the battle makes his blood sing and the smile on his face wondrously feels like it belongs for once - he tends to scare people. They try to hide it (sometimes, at least), but they aren't nearly as good at it as they think they are. He really wishes people realized that "I'm really glad you're fighting on our side" isn't as much of a compliment as they seem to think it is. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.)

Or maybe he's just deflecting. Sue him. (No, literally. His father is the god of riches so good luck on that front. Together we can put Alecto's dusty old law degree and human disguise to use again!)

The tears feel hot against his frigid cheeks. This doesn't count as a breakdown, right? He is aware of his surroundings, and he is calm. It's only the tears that won't stop falling for some reason.

Some reason.

Fuck, it's so stupid-

It's just-

He has people that feel like that, sure. Bianca, before she died. Hazel, whenever he gets to see her. But they are just that; people with their own thoughts and wills and whims. People that can move and die and leave and abandon him. But-

It's so stupid because it was just another short and overall insignificant mission given to him by his father. Stupid because he hadn't even needed the unicorn draught he always carries with him. Stupid because he hasn't been able to properly cry in years, had thought his body wasn't physically capable of it anymore-

But then he'd sheathed his beloved blade, pleasantly surprised to see that it'd taken less time than expected. And then, frustratingly casually and without even a second thought: can't wait to go back home.

And he hadn't been thinking about Bianca's Italian lullabies she used to sing to him sometimes, or Hazel's infamous hugs (she may not be very big but damn can that girl give a hug). Instead, he had been thinking about camp.

Not a person that can decide he isn't worth the effort. Not a relationship he has to constant put work into. But a place.

And now he is crying. Honestly what the fuck?!

[mamamittens]

NSFW headcanons

Because I completely and totally failed to write today, I'm going to give you guys smutty little headcanons of a few Excellent Bois about

Your first time (and bonus if it's your first time)

Ace

He's more than a bit nervous but covers it by being very touchy. A sort of soft, gliding kind of touch like he's amazed he's allowed to at all. Even kissing tends to start off very light. Sure he loses his head and you're liable to get plenty of tongue but for a bit you'll be convinced he thinks you're made of glass.

He's exploring all the skin he wasn't allowed (or unwilling) to touch before. Taking note of the places you react to the best and where you don't like it at all. (Ticklish spots are noted and will be used later, don't you worry about that). He's naturally going to get especially handsy with your chest, thighs, and ass unless he notes you hate it. Also a bit of a biter tbh. Likes leaving little marks and gets really noisy the more he makes.

You're going to be dizzy and very eager for more before he even touches your crotch (regardless of gender). And he's... Going to be maddeningly careful about prep cause he really wants you to want him again. Like, you'll probably end up threatening violence if he doesn't get a move on already.

Baby boi wants a condom cause he's got fears about his bloodline. For my non-uteri having folks, he's not so strict on that but it is a bit easier to clean and he will ask if you prefer that. Of course, by the laws of psychology, he's actually just a bit thrilled at the idea of marking you in intimate ways, so as long as he won't have a pregnancy scare he's... Willing to dive into that sort of kink.

The actual sex is going to be an up close and personal affair. Like, his face/lips are near your skin at all times no matter what. And only partially to muffle his filthy talk. He's very noisy in general but in the case of a first time he makes an effort to praise you. Like a lot. Occasionally in very self deprecating ways and if you wanna drive him nuts refute that negativity and reciprocate his praise.

After care is light clean up and cuddles. He's a bit clingy after sex until he's assured that you enjoyed yourself.

Now, for your first time, take everything you see up there? Intensify it. You're going to want to murder this man for treating you like glass but leaving you looking mauled. He might even get teary eyed that you trust him with your first time once he's in you. Just kiss him if he gets embarrassing and he'll stop talking I promise. Gets upset if you're sore the next day and makes it up to you. Cries when you tell him you want to fuck again... Maybe later tho lol.

Marco

He knows what he's doing. A bit more of a faster pace but he's definitely methodical. Tends to linger on certain areas that he personally loves but he's doing a crash course on your body and refuses to waste the opportunity. Handsy but more about gripping than fondling. Likes exploring with his tongue rather than hands. May or may not be because his devil fruit takes away his hands.

Also a fan of marks but he's more methodical about it. More into the reactions than the evidence left behind cause he's going to heal it by accident anyway when he cums. When it comes to prep he's incredibly prepared. Not to worried about pain cause of his power but definitely using the opportunity to see how far he can push you.

Strikes me as someone that really likes it when you tear up. So expect that prep to be a bit excessive.

Now, when it comes to finally doing the deed I also feel like he will end up pinning you somehow. Not in a mean way, but... Like, he's probably gripping your hips or holding down your hands when you fuck. He likes it. Loves it when you push back cause you're probably arching into his thrusts anyway and he thinks it's hot.

He likes going without a condom but doesn't want to be a dad, so if that's a risk, it's a hard no. Doesn't mind the mess if it isn't though.

After care is a nice clean up and once over with flames. Maybe a small massage to any sore muscles. He likes when you curl up against him after the deed, preferably naked.

For your first time he might come across as extra mean cause he's very thorough about prep and ensuring you enjoy every second. Very frustrating but won't leave you wanting more, that's for sure. Might get... Just a bit of a kick out of the virginity thing. Maybe in a teasing way but more likely in a "this man has a slight corruption kink but refuses to admit it" kind of way.

Katakuri

He's going to pretend like he isn't panicking but you definitely know he's panicking. He deals with stress all the time but this might be too much for him. Will need a bit of a kick start but once he's going that's it.

Very much a man that explores with his mouth and is utterly ravenous. RIP yourself, cause its going to feel like he can't hear you beg him to just fuck you already. Prep is messy. Very very messy. Man likes to eat, what can I say?

Will likely nip you a lot but doesnt feel comfortable doing any biting. He is very turned on by the size difference though. Just means he has to prep you with his tongue again... And maybe one more time to be sure.

Actual sex is slow. He's taking his time here and always asking how you feel. Vocal responses will receive great reward. Quiet is just going to tell him he's not wrecking your shit good enough so... Be prepared for that.

He's... Probably not going to think about a condom at first, partially because of his mom's... Uh... Family building ways. But he's willing to use one. Will be disappointed he can't leave a mess inside you though, so prepare for a bit of a pout.

Aftercare will include snacks and light massages/fondling. He's going to be a tad clingy and insist on at least a power nap. Very willing to go again as soon as you stop wincing.

For your very first time he's somehow more insufferable about prep cause he's... Sort of convinced that without it you'll die or something. So... Yeah that power nap will be a coma and he will be very concerned about your physical state afterwards. And you'll likely top cause he likes the view and feels more in control in case it's too much... Uh... Breadth for your body. So to speak. Might even have sex in the dark so he doesn't scare you off who's horse is that?!?

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Unwilling pt. 2 | {KokuZan}

(pt.1 here)

Theme: Angst

Note: Aesthetically has no KokuZan pictures cuz i'm using a diff device now.. 

So the picture is a lie there's no fluff :3<3

Ty to @freshbeans6479 and @Im_using_my_rosetoy (on wattpad) for the ideas of the pt.2 ^^!

TW: Mentionss of suicideeee 🥲

This is a bit short, sorryy..

Previously: 

He smiled at it, a sort of bitter smile.

"I tried," he whispered, leaning forward and closing his eyes.

Blue and red lights flashed across his gaze and he blinked wearily, confused. His whole body hurt and he groaned. 

"Sir, I need you to stay still. We're going to give you an anesthetic," someone said, holding Muzan's body up.

He could barely register the words and blacked out before he knew what was happening.

When he woke up, his head hurt like hell and he didn't know what was happening. His throat felt parched and he winced as he tried to sit up, looking around. He appeared to be in a hospital room, he knew that, but he didn't remember anything that had happened in the last... he didn't remember much, actually.

He felt almost like a chunk of his brain had been chopped away. 

There was talking outside the door and two people stepped into the room. One wore a white robe and had a nametag on it. The other person was a mystery for he didn't appear to be someone who worked here, neither someone Muzan recognised. 

"Muzan!" the unknown person said. 

The one with the nametag—Tamayo, apparently—stayed at the door. She said something to the other person then nodded and left.

Muzan was his name, right? Right. How did this person know it. 

The person moved to stand next to his bed and said, his face creased with worry, "Are... are you alright?" 

"Who are you?" Muzan asked. Or rather, he tried to ask but his throat was so dry it came out in a choked cough.

The person quickly handed him some water which Muzan realized he couldn't even drink given that his hands felt stiff. 

The man, which he could now see had long black and red hair tied up in a ponytail, brought the cup to Muzan's lips and he drank needily, sighing deeply once he'd finished.

"Who are you?" he repeated now, his voice clearer.

The man, then, looked hurt and almost scared. "You... you know who I am!! I'm... I'm Michika-... Kokushibo." 

The supposed Kokushibo went to grasp Muzan's hands but he thought better of it and stopped.

"I don't know any Michika," Muzan said. He raised an eyebrow—or at least he hoped that was what he did. "Do you know me?" 

The man—Kokubisho (not a typo<3), 'Michika', whatever—nodded, looking almost desperate. "You... you don't remember me?"

"No, now please leave I don't feel to bothering with random strangers," Muzan huffed.

"You know me!! You... don't you remember?" Kokubisho asked. 

"No! Haven't we already landed on that??" 

He looked down. "You forgot... You hit your head too hard and the doctors said you would forget but I was hoping you didn't." 

"Yeah, yeah, enough bullshit anyone can come up with a lie. Now go away," Muzan ordered, though what Kokubisho had said had hit a bit too close to home. He did feel like he'd forgotten a lot, but then again he still didn't feel any familiarity to this man and wouldn't he, if he'd known him? 

Michika glanced one more time at Muzan before turning and leaving with a defeated look in his posture. 

Muzan rolled his eyes. This was so stupid. So fucking stupid.

~~~

Kokushibo was practically in tears when he arrived home to a curious Yoriichi.

"What happened?" Yoriichi asked, concerned.

"He... forgot everything," the former demon said, his voice quiet. 

"Oh?" 

"He forgot me too," Michikatsu said, slumping down on a chair.

"Do you... still like him?" Yoriichi asked hesitantly, confused.

His brother looked up, his eyes teary. "I..." 

"Hm?" Yoriichi moved over, embracing him.

"I do," Michikatsu admitted quietly. "Yes, yes I do. I really do..!"

Yoriichi gave him a sympathetic look. "And..."

"And he doesn't remember me," he finished, his voice tight with sorrow. "He doesn't remember me at all."

~~~

Nakime waited outside the hospital room anxiously as she watched Michikatsu storm out. She was allowed inside, finally, by a woman with her black hair tied back. 

"Thank you," Nakime said, smiling. 

She walked in and saw an irritated-looking Muzan sitting on his bed.

"Muzan?" she said tentatively. 

He looked up. "Are you here to convince me that you know me?" he asked, huffing. 

Nakime looked taken aback before she realized this must be the reason Michikatsu had left so upset. "No, ah... I was the one who found you when you'd gotten hurt and I was, uhm, given your name. So I wanted to check on you," she said, which was partially a lie but besides the part about now knowing him, it was true. 

He looked relieved at that and nodded stifly. "Then, thank you, I suppose, if you really were the one to save me. Do you know how I got hurt?" he asked, looking confused. "I don't remember much."

Nakime averted her eyes, not really wanting to answer. But Muzan pressed her to tell him until she finally gave up. "You were... found at the bottom of a cliff. There really wasn't any way that you'd've been able to get there given that where you were was way off the path under it. I honestly think that you wouldn't have been found if I'd not been on a walk there... it was so far out. Besides that, the impact of all your wounds could only have happened if you'd... fallen off the cliff." She hesitated then, although eventually the reason why became clear.

Muzan's eyes met hers and he saw how sad her expression looked. Putting two and two together, he mumbled, "So I was trying to kill myself?"

Nakime nodded solemnly, drawing her gaze away from his. "That's what we think. Nobody wanders up that hill for mindless activity, it's not safe there anyways."

"Oh."

Silence stretched across the room for a long time and they both just stared at the ground in silence, unsure what to think of anything.

Then Nakime said, rather abruptly, "I'll leave you here then, I suppose..."

Muzan nodded, then paused. "Wait!" he said before she reached the door.

"Hm?" She turned back curiously.

"Do I... Did I know you?" he asked cautiously. "I don't seem to rememeber anything and the man who came in before you insisted that he knew me... I don't recognise either of you but I wanted to know..."

Nakime gave him a pitiful look. "I don't want to force you to believe it, but you did know both me and Michikatsu. You knew him as Kokushibo. And I as Nakime." She took let out a soft breath. "You were quite fond of Kokushibo," she murmured before turning and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Muzan looked down at the blanket draped over his body. So that was why Michika had been so insistent? How fond of him had he been? 

{Word count: 1176}

STOP I KINDA WANT TO MAKE A PART THREE WHERE MUZAN GOES THROUGH THE PROCESS OF REMEMBERING (ppl telling him abt himself basically)

AND ALSO BRING KIE BACK TO HIM

BUT IDK.

😭

Muzan being confused asf:

(sorry if i didn't write it as you'd said there :'> I just kinda went along your og req of uh this:

so uh yeah...

now i go regret not doing my hw <33 

[newsie-collective]

Hey! Hi! Here's Finch!

Quick note: Finch's was the first one we did, so his is a little all over the place. I've been trying to get it into a semi-coherent thing, but 😌yk

T/W: Abuse,

Patrick “Finch” Cortes

Quickfire Favorites

Food: “BLT from Jacobi’s. Him got the best sandwiches ‘round.”

Color: “Black. The only reason I don’ wear it ‘s cos it get too hot.”

Season: “Spring! The flowers bring birds!”

Weather: “Sunny, bu’ not too hot.”

Hobby: “Practicin’ me aim wit’ Snipe.” 

Animal: “…Birds…”

Memory: “Takin’ this-“ holds up his slingshot “-from Delancey. You shoulda seen ‘is face!” 

Comfort Item: “Sling, ov’iusly.”

He got his nickname because he would rescue fallen birds that the other boys would shoot at, he carries his own sling to shoot at the boys to keep them from doing it

He was taken from his mother at a young age, kidnapped by his father and hidden away. It’s his mom singing amongst the newsies in 92sies, looking for him. His father passed, and still he wasn’t reunited with her. 

He was sent to his uncle’s. He ran away from the bruising and the fighting when he was just under eight. He took refuge solace with the newsies. He thinks of them as family more than he ever did his own

Finch’s slingshot was Oscar’s, but Finch had such good aim that Oscar didn’t dare try to get it back

He wears it in his waistband all the time. He wants Oscar to know that he could kick his ass ANY TIME

He and Sniper would have competitions to see who had better aim

Has way too high of a sleight of hand modifier

Sarcasm and backhanded compliments. Without hesitation. 

Doesn’t like fighting up close but will if he has to and isn’t even close to unwilling to fight dirty

Do NOT let him and Crutchie get together. The world will burn to the ground, they’ll have the matches and gasoline, and the sweetest smiles. 

They will not be caught

He’s so bad at math

Like horrendously, comically bad

Boy cannot add 2+2

The mom friend. Not like Davey. Like “you’re dumb as fuck but I’m the one who has to take care of you so calm the fuck down”

Al also likes rocks, and picks up rocks for Finch to shoot. He isn’t fond of giving up rocks that he didn’t specifically pick up for Finch, but he will. 

And Finch will totally go find the one he didn’t want to give up

Not gay specifically, but he’s head over heels for Romeo, so I don’t think labels matter much

He hates capitalism

Which is valid

He also doesn’t know what capitalism is

He hates the idea of it

He likes to run for fun (like a weirdo)

He doesn’t mind cuddles, but he won’t initiate them (usually). He’ll cuddle anyone who asks, because he assumes that if it’s bad enough to actually ask then they really need it

He’ll lay however his cuddle partner wants

Want a big spoon to whisper calming things to you? Finch gotchu

Want a little spoon to just curl up and hold your hands? Absolutely

Want someone to hold you and play with your hair? They. Are. For. It.

Pda makes him a little uncomfy because the more people know about who you care about the more they can hold against you

Not to mention it’s quite illegal to hold hands with who they really want at this point in time

He has a lot of trust issues, and being with Romeo is really hard for him. 

He’s so scared of getting really attached to him and then Romeo moving on to another crush

He likes going out the window more than he likes the door

He ain’t scared of no turf

He’s the one who started calling Tommy Boy that. Because someone actively misgendered him. And Finch made it a point to use he/him pronouns and call him Tommy Boy

This was obviously after he beat the snot out of the guy who misgendered Tommy on purpose

"I think TOMMY BOY should go inside. HE looks really tired and HE should get some sleep before HE goes selling tomorrow."

He thinks too much. Usually right before he goes to sleep. He likes to write things down.

Examples include (but are not limited to):

When we yawn, do deaf people think we’re screaming?

I can fly but Albert can’t know

Why is it called a building if it’s already built?

What happens to thoughts when you stop thinking them?

How did the people who made the first clocks know what time it was?

Nothing is ever really on fire. Fire is on things.

Counts birds and cuddles Romeo to go to sleep

He’s exceptionally competitive, and will play anything and everything

He almost always loses

It pisses him off

He has to be dragged away before he loses everything

Do not

Under any circumstances

Let him in the kitchen

Dated Albert before he and Romeo got together, and before Spralbert happened.

They fell out of love with each other, but are still best friends.

Forgets to tell people things

“When I was sellin’ nea’ Medda’s-” “You was at Medda’s?”

“Yea, bu’ tha’ ain’t the point. I was-”

“How she doin’?”

“I ain’t had time to stop in-”

“You gotta make time fo’ Medda!” 

Romeo asked Finch out a lot. Then again, Romeo asked a lot of people out. So, whenever he would ask Fin, they would tell him that if the crush lasted longer than a week, they’d go on a date with him. They never did last longer than that.

Until they did. 

His handwriting is really tall letters really squished together

He loves birds. Especially penguins. They’re really interesting and he likes going to the library and having someone read to him about them.

Always gets compared to crows, because he picks up things off the sidewalk, but he really can’t because they’re cute and smart.

HE JUST REALLY FUCKING LIKES BIRDS OK???? HIS SPECIAL INTEREST IS BIRDS, IF YOU CAN'T TELL

He definitely can imitate most, if not all bird calls

Collects rocks

Hates socks and shoes with a burning passion

Finch!!!! I love him so much. They're such a sweet person and they deserve the world <3

I haven't decided if Finch gives off He/They vibes or just outright They/Them

So there's also that

👻

[moon-meerkat]

so uh tonight's crying is mostly bc i was talking to my bff, whom i love to death, about different bus routes and how now he'll be taking 2 buses for a certain class (he was previously in a distance-learning semester) and i "joked" it would hopefully make him less boring and finally willing to go somewhere with me other than our own neighbourhoods - because every time i want us to go anywhere that takes more than 1 bus ride, he's unwilling to do that for me. and he was like MAYBE someday to one park i said smth like, he'd never even gone there with me on beautiful days that would be perfect for it. but NO WAY would he go to the place i wanted to for my birthday, a type of wildlife sanctuary 1 hour away, that i've recently-ish admitted i've been wanting to visit again for a decade, and tried to make it happen on my birthday, esp bc like that's not some huge unbearable road trip and if you're with friends it won't feel like that for even a minute. and i said *x friend of ours* (who had asked me out on a date, which i'd agreed to) (ended up not happening but that was later) offered to go. you're being worse than *that friend ours* rn. i said this mostly joking and in that tone bc when i'd told my bff smth ab that friend, he was completely like, disillusioned and lost basically all respect for him. and like thats almost fine up to that point. but then he said "well yeah he wanted to get with you. if i wanted to makeout with someone i would do that too. well no, i'd go from my house. if i lived where he lives i also wouldn't do it to hook up." and i'm just actually so devastated that he would go to more lengths for a makeout session than for me, his best friend of 10 years. like i would do it for you in a heartbeat you wouldn't even have to ask. why do you act like that's some huge fucking sacrifice, and why would you make it for a hookup and not for me? i love you so much, like more than anyone maybe. at least on par with my parents and sister. i would do like, anything for you. and i thought we were on the same page about hating allonormativity and how our society is always prioritizing sex and romance, and how friendship is equally important, but you keep showing you don't actually apply it in your own life. i would marry you if i could just to stop you from leaving me. I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF EVERYONE BEING LIKE THIS. I'M SO SICK OF IT AND I'M SO LONELY AND I'M SO SCARED. how the fuck can my therapist keep acting like i'm exaggerating when, for this exact reason, i'm TERRIFIED of ageing, because if i don't have a spouse i will NEVER be someone's real priority, no one will wanna make plans every week, no one will keep me in mind when deciding on whether to move away, no one will be as dedicated as i can be/am/want to be. and this society now has such a clear, fixed hierarchy and even those who claim to be against it participate, and this lack of dedication to each other, and this lack of community, these are a symptom and a cause, in self-perpetuating cycle that MAKES THIS SOCIETY ILL. WE CAN'T FUCKING LIVE LIKE THIS WHY DOES NO ONE ELSE SEE IT???? THIS IS KILLING US, MAKING US HAVE A HOLE INSIDE, NEGLECTING OUR CHILDREN AND OVERWORKING PARENTS, MAKING US LESS SAFE, MAKING IT ALL WRONG!!! AND I'M SO SICK OF IT

[logmosswrites]

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

I feel like on the "Selfish and Horrifying" meter, Sho is probably the least horrible of the Persona edgevillain boys...by like a very, VERY small margin. An almost nonexistent margin tbh.

Akechi and Adachi both take advantage of a Darling, especially since I think Adachi wouldn't initially view them as anything more than an outlet for his boredom. Like yeah, the world is still meaningless and sucks, but some free (albeit unwilling) pussy and someone to cook meals for him is pretty nice. He has a leg up on Akechi since Adachi has actual good relationships with people like Nanko, Dojima, and Yu. Like I don't know (and he doesn't either, I imagine) if that's genuine love for the closest thing to a family he has, but it stands to reason that he COULD develop a similar meaningful connection with a Darling. I think he's more likely to just want to use them though.

Akechi manipulates them by using his past and his own issues against them, and turns their sympathy into a way to keep them tied to him. He's one of two Wild Cards to weaponize their Personas for nefarious purposes, and it's only through a metric ton of effort/shit happening in Royal that he's even able to form meaningful connections with others. But this might cause him to double down on Darling; now that he realizes he can actually have feelings, then he wants to do that with them too! He's got actual friends now who know his real self, and he's still shocked that Darling was able to put up with all the hell he put them through. So he wants to make it up to them by being the closest thing to "good" he can be. It's broken and still fucked up, but he wants to try.

In P4's True End route and in Ultimax, Adachi clearly wants to atone for what he did and agrees to be taken to jail for the murders. So I think that he'd decide to cut ties with Darling entirely, just for their own sake. He kidnapped them, assaulted them, and they deserve a chance to move on from what he did to them. If they continued to seek him out in prison, he'd be surprised (especially since I imagine he'd confess to the cops for what he did to them, so they have NO reason to visit him in prison as their convicted assaulter). I think he'd assume they just have a form of Stockholm Syndrome and urge them to stop visiting him for their own sake. But if they keep insisting, he'll say they must be hopelessly broken to keep coming back to talk to him. He won't turn them away anymore, but he doesn't really like it either. It's difficult to find a way to atone for hurting people when one of your victims is so broken and warped by you, and it's all you can see/hear when the visit you in jail.

Sho is the one who would be unlikely to have a Darling in the first place, and getting feelings like that confuses/angers/scares the shit out of him. He was raised without any ability to connect with others and is, to put it bluntly, a sociopath with symptoms taken to a cartoonish extreme. He straight up says he can only experience bonds with others by trying to kill them in a fight to the death, after all. Empathy and sympathy is something that he can't even grasp. And while it'd be astronomically difficult, he might develop an interest in a Darling that spirals out of control. He's very distrustful of others, so those gentle/kind Darlings seem like (at first) they'd bore him or confuse him a lot. Why are they so eager to help him without anything in return? Are they trying to earn his trust and use him layer on?

A Darling that's a fighter/Persona user would have a far quicker time catching his interest. Maybe they're a "gentler" one like Fuuka, or they're a special case where they can use SMT spells without needing a Persona to "channel" shit through and they fight that way (which annoys him, since he can't carve off bits of their Persona the way he can with everyone else in Ultimax). And it pisses him off that they keep trying to "help him" and ask why he's doing all this while fighting him. Does it fucking matter? Focus on the fight, you idiot! He's about to kill you!

It would take a persistent kindness and a LOT of compassion on Darling's part for his interest to form. Throughout most of the story he dismisses bonds and sympathy as what weaklings do to cope with their own inferiority alone, and he comes to view Darling as his complete opposite. And their stupid tenacity in trying to reach out to him is equally annoying and interesting, similar to how he feels about Yu consistently trying to connect with him. But Yu, he's a fellow Wild Card like Sho. Why would some random nobody below his level of power be so determined to do that?

I think he'd spend what little spare time he has in the story occasionally just peeking in on Darling when he's not trying to fight/kill them. He just wants to know who he's dealing with, and see what their real goal is in gaining his trust. And when he discovers there IS NO hidden goal, he kind of...malfunctions. It just doesn't make sense to him. So he'd fixate more on them to prove that whatever they have in mind, they're wrong and he's going to kill them to prove it.

After the story ends, he wakes up in the hospital in Inaba and realizes that even if Ikutsuki threw him away, he still can't completely hate him. And that feeling makes him wonder what other bonds he has with people like Yu, Labrys, and...that one naive idiot who kept trying to reach out, despite their weakness. If he's going to take this chance to form bonds and find new meaning, he wants to explore it with them.

He's not really sure HOW to do that, so his go-to is to just follow them around/stalk them for a while before confronting them. They wanted to connect with him, right? Well here he is. He'll explain what his life was like since they may not have been there for that whole exposition dump, and then say that he's going to stick around for a while to learn more about them. It's only fair, considering how hard they pushed their way into HIS life.

He'll follow them around even if they say they don't want to befriend him after all the shit he did, or that they just need some time alone for a while after he tried to kill them and their friends so many times. But he's not gonna be able to let them be. They were so stubborn before about connecting with him, and NOW, when he's finally open to it, they say no? Nah, fuck that. He's part of their life whether they want it or not. He was planning on traveling the country/world to find himself, but no matter how long he's gone he always comes back to his Darling in the end. They'll think he's finally left after a few months, only for him to break into their home and crawl in bed like it's his own and like nothing happened. Darling's the closest thing he's got to a home, anyway.

[0littlestwolf0]

Clever as a fox

Yandere! Stiles Stilinski

Ship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: Stalking, overlooked obsessive behavior.

Requested by: Anonymous

You had almost wondered why he was following you.

I mean, for someone else it would’ve been extremely unsettling to see that same sky-blue Jeep everywhere you went, or the same brown eyes glancing at the distance, but it was Stiles, and everything that involved him was weird.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. He probably had an explanation, you thought, maybe he thinks that the newest threat in town is following you, or maybe he thinks you are the newest threat, that made you shiver.

How could you be a threat?

You had been on their side from the beginning, well, your beginning at least, since the first time you discovered you weren’t human it was as if Scott had smelled it immediately, well he literally did, and then came the questions.

What do you want? How long has this been going on? Are you the benefactor?

Soon followed by your newest stalker hitting his best friend on the back of his head “Do you really think she would tell us if she was?” And then you laughed, histerically, it wasn’t even funny, it didn’t even make sense, for fuck’s sake!

But there you were, laughing uncontrollably at the entire weirdness of your actual situation, who would’ve thought that the same girl that had been so worried about failing a class was now equally worried about not getting killed by a werewolf, or the mute, and don’t forget the berserkers!

Stiles, you recognized him from your economy class, was raising a brow at you “I don’t even know who the benefactor is, I’ve been like this-“ you gestured to your newely discovered supernatural self “since last weekend, and no, I can’t control it”

“She’s telling the truth” said the one with a crooked jaw, Scott, you remembered, those two were hard to forget after years getting in trouble with the coach.

And with that Stiles just shook his head, a low, breathed laugh left him “Of course she’d be supernatural” he mumbled ironically, not fully understanding, you tilted your head, and just like that Scott nudged him and with that Stiles’ ears turned pink, he’d said too much, yet too little for you to understand.

After that everything became a rush, you had to be quick to get ready in the mornings for school, make sure to get there on time, be a good student during the day, as soon as the bell rang your priorities shifted and now it was about surviving another day, going with the boys (they usually took you on their little quests before you could ask) or Malia and Lydia to find the big bad and try to keep everyone alive, then you back home and finish your homework.

It was truly tiring.

But also fascinating. You loved this new normal of yours, even if it didn’t leave much time for yourself, but being in the line so constant made you feel alive and you loved it.

Also the friends you’ve made were amazing, each one of them had shown you how ready they were to fight for you and that warmed your heart. Scott always made sure to keep you and everyone else safe, Stiles helped you at all moments, you didn’t even understand how he could be so good to you, somehow he knew your favorite warm drink that he would buy every morning for you before you arrived to the school, then he’d help you with your homework and save you from angry professor glances.

Malia literally had said that she would kill for you, and with that look on her eyes you believed her, Lydia was more quiet about it, but she made sure to keep your social life alive, and if you were in danger she wouldn’t hesitate to help you.

And just like them you were blindly devoted to the pack.

Which brought back the question, why was Stiles following you? Then you decided to make a move, you saw him groan and look everywhere but behind him “Where are you? Where are you?” He’d keep mumbling.

You traced the back of his neck with your index finger trying to scare him and he turned around with a little scream, his eyes widened and you noticed that in all the commotion he had taken a hold of your wrist.

You were at an empty alley, making it even weirder about why would he follow you there. “You scared me!” He whispered/yelled and you giggled, his eyes softened at the sound.

“Care to tell me why you were following me?” You asked and he looked down, his face becoming pink, if you’d known him better you would’ve known that he was always quick with answers, and that didn’t mean they were true “I wanted to give you my notes” it was a quick answer, not a change on his voice.

You tilted your head “But I went to the full day today” you shrugged, believing he might have thought otherwise “Oh! But I tought you could use them for the exam” now he was shrugging, way more confident in his answer than before. You believed the lie, if you’d known him better you would’ve noticed the little details, the way he spoke faster when he was lying than when he said the truth.

It was funny, you realized a bit too late, how he was more confident in his lies than he was in anything true.

But we haven’t reached that point of the story yet.

It became a little better after that, he would still do those little things for you that went a long way plus he would appear in your door every evening to study with you, he’d said you both needed to study because you were all falling behind.

You however didn’t notice the angry looks he’d give everyone other than Scott when they approached you, male or female everyone whose eyes lingered a little too long on you was a rival on his eyes.

For you it was almost like puppy love, you didn’t notice the things he did, and it wasn’t naivety, he is probably the most cunning and cleverest person you knew, clever as a fox you had said once and his whole demeanor changed.

That you didn’t fail to notice, but you tried to shrug it off, he’d tell you when he was ready.

Things would’ve never escalated if everything continued like it had been, him always by your side, you might study different things but he had already planned renting an apartment with you, he’d convince you, and then you’d be with him forever.

But no, Theo Reaken had to come to town and ruin everything he had going on.

The first time he knew he’d hate him was the first day of their senior year, when Theo winked at you, Stiles frowned and thought of a thousand ways to kill that freaking werewolf. But you had held his hand and whispered reassuring things on his ears, that calmed him down, and again it could’ve worked like that.

But the doctors wanted you, so Theo took you while you were asleep, he tied you up and set you on a cell before you woke up, pretending to be another victim there, he was a pathological liar who seemed unwilling to risk his facade, even as the doctors experimented on your blood.

Not seeing you that morning at school started to make his anxiety override, but he breathed and tried to convince himself that maybe you’d gotten a cold, or something, but you weren’t answering his calls either.

He missed first period running to Roscoe and then getting to your house, then the day became a blur on his eyes, your entire house was empty, but your car was still outside, your kitchen clean and the house seemed undisturbed, but as soon as he set foot in your room his stomach dropped.

Your bed was a mess, as if you’d tried sleeping but then woken up in a hurry, your shoes were still on the floor, but it was the window that convinced him that everything was wrong, your window was open.

You heated leaving any door or window open, you were too proud to admit it but you were scared of what could get in or out.

He called Scott and in a matter of minutes he was there, he said that he smelt a second scent in your room but he couldn’t place it, whoever did it was good at hiding their tracks.

They searched for you for a week, when they got a big clue, they knew to go in the sewers, they found the lab but retreated to make a plan (that didn’t include Stiles) and for once he didn’t fight it, because he had his own plan.

He knew it would be dangerous, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get you back like he was. The idea scared him, but the thought of losing you killed him. So he stole the wooden box.

It would be different this time, he convinced himself. Because this time he wouldn’t fight it.

With a shaky breath he placed it inside his backpack, he’d try getting you back on his own first, and if it didn’t work...

It had to work.

But he didn’t get too far when he started hearing you screaming in pain, his legs began to shake, and his eyes watered as he ran towards the sound, every scream was a knife settling in his heart, and he doubted he’d ever be free of the sound.

And then he saw you, lying there in a metal bed as three very scary figures loomed over you, injecting things in your arms and legs, whatever it was was hurting you. He didn’t have to consider it twice, those figures would kill him if they saw him.

He tried swallow the lump in his throat as he opened the intricate box, the irony of it being him who seeks that power would overwhelm him in any other situation. But the fly didn’t waste time as it flew directly and entered his ear, Stiles groaned, trying to stay quiet as he felt almost as if his brain was being ripped in pieces.

Let me in. I can save her. He heard in his own voice, but he doubted, the Nogitsune had killed Allison-

Your heartbreaking scream followed by sobs made him choose. He let it in.

[celestialmango]

(an anon sent me a prompt a while ago that caught my interest and I tweaked it a little so I wouldn't get writers block and get stuck but honestly whoever you are anon, great job👍, I loved it but it just took awhile for creative juices to flow so I could write it out.)

Soft vore, stuffing, unwilling Prey, ambiguous ending, reader insert, fatal mentions.

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

Holy shit, you shiver in fear at the knowledge just given to you by the college staff, you shouldn't have signed up for the dorms fuck what do you do? You don't know but you don't have a choice now, you chosen a college far from home and didn't have the money to rent a place. You can see pity on the staffs face as if they know they signed your death warrant. You take a deep breath, stand up and leave.

You don't have a choice, you can't afford to go anywhere else, you were just assigned to be the roommate of a well-known upper class man Pred on campus, as you slowly walk a down the path to the main dorm you feel you have to think, what do you do? as you enter the building....you have an idea, it might be dumb, might not even work but if a plan like this might help you survive you have to at least try it right? You clap your hands and pray to whatever deities are out there that this will work.

You walk down the hall to your assigned dorm room and knock on the door, after a moment it opens and you're face to face with a gurgling bulge of a stomach, you try not to let it phase you as you look up at the towering form rubbing the back of their neck before they look down at you, before the can do anything you play your cards 'o-oh wow you're tall! Hi I'm (y/n)!' you say with an innocent friendly smile 'the dorm manager assigned me as your roommate, from the sound of it you sound pretty hungry which is great! I wanted to invite you out to a buffet I saw on my bus ride to campus for lunch, my treat!' you look at them expectantly waiting for a reply after your word vomit.

After a few minutes of silence and them just staring down at you begin to fidget in place, they just blink at you slowly, looking as if they're debating some as they lift a hand to their mouth and yawn, you fidget a bit more nervously as you see how wide their maw can stretch and see their sharp canines dripping with saliva before their hand drops and their jaw relaxes. Their other hand finds it's way to the back of your shirt and they bring you inside the room before dropping you on a giant beanbag chair, they yawn again "Nnnn fuck it sure, give me a minute, I gotta put on some pants."

Phase one of plan play dumb success! The staff members said your roommate would eat you as soon as they opened the door, but instead you convinced them to a buffet instead, you take your chance to look around the room and your smile drops a little into a look of concern and confusion. There's only one bed. After getting dressed the come out of a bathroom and see your face "what's with you?" They ask sounding a little hostile, you respond by letting your face flush and scratching your cheek with a finger 'u-um well.' their eyes are gazing at you like a hawk 'there's only one bed in the room, this college doesn't really make roommates share a bed do they?' the Predator responds with an unnerving grin "most of my roommates don't last long."

Deflect! Deflect and act cute! You smile at them innocently again and tilt your head 'oh? Did they get kicked out for some reason or something?' their grin gains an aura of menace. "Or something." You put a hand on your chin in thought, 'by the way how do we get to town from campus? Do you have a car or will we be taking a bus to buffet.' their grin drops as they pause for a moment raising their eyebrow, "do you honestly think someone my size can fit in a car? Because the answer is no." You just grin at them 'guess I'll be paying for bus passes too then' they shake their head "naw, the college provides monthly passes, now come on, we'll want to hurry because the next one will leave soon." You look startled before you leap up, 'ok'.

You have trouble keeping up with them as you both run so they quickly turn back pick you up and tuck you under their arm before rushing to the bus stop, they really want that free food you offered, a chance to pig out that they don't have to pay for sounds great to them.

-----------

To saw you were surprised at how much $5 at a buffet could stretch was an understatement, barely half an hour and a tower of plates was stacked on the table you two sat at and as the pred finished their final plate a well dress person came up and banned you both from coming back, as you both stood on the sidewalk you spoke with a stunned look on your face 'i didn't know it was possible to get kicked out of an all you can eat buffet' the pred patted at their large gut "yeah, pity. I'm not even full yet." They pause looking like they're thinking about something again when you spoke again 'what? Seriously? You ate out the entire buffet.' they look towards you again with a strange gaze that you don't even notice and answer.

"I could go for more." You don't even see them reach for you before you turn to them with a mischievous grin while ask them an question that interests them greatly 'wanna see how many buffets we can banned from in a day?' they hesitate, the hand they were about to snatch you up freezes for a second before it reaches down to pat your shoulder instead as they give you a wide grin and an enthusiastic reply "hell yeah." And off you both went to cause as much chaos as possible before you had to go back to campus.

-----

A few hour later and they can barely squeeze themselves out of the doors of the bus as you return to campus, their gut bulging out so large it look as if they ate a moose, the both of you laughing '-i mean the look on that guys face when you snatched up and ate an entire turkey whole as they chased us out was priceless' "pfft yeah but what about the other guy when I ran out of the kitchen with that pot of soup a chugged it?" You both walk towards the dorm 'he looked like he was about to faint! That was right off the stove! Like boiling hot! How in the world did that not burn like you were drinking lava?' "heat resistance is a wonderful thing" they reply grinning from ear to ear.

After they open the door and you're about turn to leave to talk to staff about finishing the dorm paperwork their hand presses against your back a shove you into their room, you don't see a dark look flash across their face for a moment before disappearing, there is an unnerving tone to their voice that gives no room for argument as they speak "hey now, how about we spend a bit more time together?" It doesn't sound like a question but more like an order. Afraid and nervous about what may happen if you say no, you agree.

They hand you a controller and ask in a voice, as if they know exactly how the words sound

"Wanna smash?" 'Hah' you can't help the laugh that comes out, you shouldn't have told them about your weakness to dirty jokes.

----

Time passes fast as you play smash bros together for a while then move on to more multiple play games, you keep noticing they way they glance at you sometimes with a look that scares you, sometimes licking their lips, you notice as time goes by the size of their stomach decreases and the more it does, the more these moments of staring increase.

Their stomach growls a low long sound and you feel like you're sweating as you shiver while a chill shoots down your spine,you speak in a shaky voice as you get up and start walking towards the door 'w-ell t-this has been fun but I have speak to staff about sleeping arrangements as there's not room for me her right now' you open the door a crack before it slams shut, you see the Pred's hand above you and the other engulfs your shoulder, the tone Pred speaks to you in makes your heart stop "oh I have room." Before the spin you around, pinning your arms to your sides as their jaw stretches open and they lift you up , shoving your head inside and swallowing before you can properly process the situation.

The grip of their throat is tight, but the fleshy tube contracts and releases easily as the experienced muscles drag you deeper inside, you snap out your stunned state a futilely kick and squirm , the struggles doing nothing except helping you slide down faster, the Pred groaning at your flavor as they gulp heavily and fast, impatient and greedy they feel they have waited for this long enough. Your head passed through the opening to their stomach and thinking fast you hold your breath, closing your eye as your face is shoved into the pile of half digested remains of the multiple buffets they cleaned out.

You're quickly force inside, curling up you gasp as your head emerges from the slurry of food, it stick to your hair, a foul acidic smell in your nostrils, you barely have the room to move and you start to cry feeling a bit betrayed but your soft sobs can't be heard over the gurgles and groans of the chamber as it continues to work on the food around you.

-----

"Aaah that hit the spot." They plop back down on their beanbag, their gut having grown in size once more, they give it a couple pats then rub it lightly "out of everything I ate today you are definitely the tastiest." They mean that fully, they had been planning to do this since they were first told that staff was going to once again, try to give them a roommate, a freshman this time, you were always going to feed them, they just didn't expect you to do it in more ways than one.

They continue to switch between rubbing and patting their their gut as a thoughtful look crosses their face, they had made up their mind to eat you, nothing you did was ever going to change that, however, what happens afterwards is still up for debate because honestly you are probably the first one staff sent that was actually friendly towards them instead of an entitled jackass , you also took them out and let them stuff themselves till they couldn't eat anymore, they had to wait to digest a bit before they could fit you in too, but even then they had a really good time today with you.

Considering who and what they were it wouldn't take but a second to cast the spell they would need to keep you from being lost inside their stomach forever, hell you might even actually be a good roommate if they give you that chance....a low whiny gurgle sounds from their gut. Whatever their decision is they will need to make it soon, they have about 15 minutes before the acid in their stomach starts to affect you too.

[strawberryjamsara]

Keiji and Sara’s relationship throughout yttd

In which I analyze the found family dynamic between Sara and Keiji then nobody reads it. But jokes aside, I realized back when that anon asked me for my thoughts on Sara that I had enough thoughts on the relationship between these two alone for its own meta so here goes. What Sara and Keiji’s relationship means in the grand scheme of yttd.

ALSO THIS IS NOT SHIPPING SHIPPERS GET THE FUCK AWAY

Sara when she meets Keiji is distrustful of him. And how can she not be? The guy has some creepy bags under his eyes, doesn’t seem to care about the situation, and for no reason is gravitating towards her. And his response when she asks why the hell he keeps putting a random stranger in charge? “Because you’re cute.” Yeah. I’d stay within 50 feet of this guy too Sara. Especially when he’s not spilling a word about himself.

Alright we might as well get the gross part out of the way. To clear things up. In the Japanese version, the word he uses “Kawai” can be seen as a more fatherly word to use with a kid. But the comments about going on dates from himself and from Shin? Those are still there. And I still think they’re really uncomfortable and wish they weren’t in the game period but we can get thematic significance out of them.

We still don’t know Keijis reasons in game for being attached to Sara. My theory? She’s his handicap. He was told to get close to the higher scorer who could easily backstab him, and he’d be stuck with her. It just kinda makes sense to me. But since that’s just a theory I won’t lean to heavily on it for support. But let’s talk about his comments.

Keiji… well, it’s shown at many points in the game that Keiji just thinks of himself as doomed to be a bad person. It can be seen during his day two negotiations when he calls himself a killer and explains he can’t even trust himself so Sara shouldn’t really bother and more explicitly so is the classroom scene between him and Ranmaru where he says he isn’t fit to protect Sara because of his sins. The flirting is both a way to distract people, and to put distance between himself and Sara. He’s not really “protecting” her.

Okay gross bit nobody wants to talk about is over I promise we won’t talk about it again. Let’s talk about Russian Roulette. In this scene, Keiji once again tries to make Sara the leader with no explanation, but then, Sara yells at him, something he didn’t expect. And through this he actually reveals something huge. The source of his trauma. His shooting. For Keiji to have actually revealed something that big, I think that this is the first moment he began to see Sara past whatever reason he first started making her a leader. This is the beginning of their bond.

This bond gets solidified over chapter 1-2s investigation. Keiji is still putting her in charge because his handicap said to build her up for whatever reason, but they’re able to have chats, and she keeps picking at his armor. He reveals his dark sense of humor to her, and she, suspicious just sort of keeps him at arms length. Also she rides his shoulders to screw in a light and he complains which is funny. The scene post Nao also helps the two of them sharpen investigative skills together, as they discuss the mystery of Miley, and Mishimas head.

Then another significant scene. The white room. I call this scene significant because, instead of letting Sara investigate the gruesome scene of the first trial, Keiji for the first time, allows Sara to walk out. Something that will become relevant later but until then, Keiji has begun to put Sara’s well-being above serving whatever purpose he had by building her up. So keep that in your pocket while we go over the main game.

There’s only two points for the main game I want to cover. While Keiji and Sara do put their heads together a few times, Sara still doesn’t fully trust him, so I will only go over 1. When Shin brings up Kai’s emails. Keiji has been fully logical this whole time, questioning everyone’s alibis including Nao’s who he saw the emotional plea from, but when Sou brings up potentially damning evidence of Sara, he just asks if he read the emails wrong. 2. When Sara is panicking over being chosen for the final round, Keiji loudly shouts “GET A GRIP SARA!” With a serious expression. Before quickly backtracking and going back to a devil may care expression. This shows he is both already emotionally attached to Sara, but unwilling to stake himself towards giving himself to a new cause.

Anyways, he stops her from pressing the button blah blah blah, onto chapter 2! I’ve made a post about this before but it seems as early as here, Keiji is trying to talk Sara down from pushing herself further. But at this point, Sara has already dedicated herself to the role because her best friend died due to her priority to protect everyone. Keiji sees the problem and he tries to get her to rest up, but he still doesn’t spend the time to have a serious talk about it because as he says in the classroom. He isn’t fit to protect her. He doesn’t think of himself as a good person who can help her. He thinks of himself as a murderer and he doesn’t allow himself to recover from the trauma.

Sara however is starting to rely more on Keiji. He’s been willing to comfort her in her times of grief and furthermore, she has something to relate to him on. They both have deaths of important people in their lives they feel responsibility for.

There’s also the fact that Keiji sees a lot of his old self in Sara. An idealistic person, being beaten down, and worrying over the idea they might be becoming a bad person. He feels the same as her.

Not to mention… Keiji follows through on his promises. He actually tells Sara about the person he respected like he said he would which establishes a further sense of trust.

However, something that tears that sense of trust apart is the tokens scene. When Keiji doesn’t even let Sara hold 50 tokens, it raises suspicion. Sara already knows he shot a person- what more could he have to hide? That scares her away. The negotiation event is an attempt for Keiji to win back her trust. But it slowly turns into Keiji’s self-loathing session. And his declaration maybe Sara shouldn’t trust him.

However, time passes enough (and Keiji supports Sara enough in the final attraction) for them to get together and investigate in 2-2. And there’s a lot of moments I can talk about there so I’ll be just doing a few rapidfire things. So first, Sara is in peak weird girl mode and Keiji can hardly control her chaos. Second, Keiji makes a full on decision at one point to go against Sara when she’s putting herself in danger of getting caught for their search so they can hide. Third, his response to “I don’t intend to die” when he asks “will you die with me” is that’s a good answer.

And fourth… a moment I really wanna touch on… Keiji watches something that could easily incriminate Sara. It’s not just some word of mouth thing like with Shin who lied about things several times before this point. But in that moment, he still relies on Sara and says he wouldn’t feel bad betting his life on her. The message is clear. Keiji supports Sara unconditionally.

Now let’s talk about Keiji totally dropping Sara’s ass with the card trades.

The way Keiji makes his trades is very telling. He first, steals a keymaster card from either Sou or Kanna to give to Sara. This is supporting Sara, but it’s doing it in a way that supports his view of himself. That he’s a scumbag who would steal someone’s immunity just to give it to someone he likes more. And would a shithead like that be “worthy” of sacrificing themselves and taking the card for Sara? (And he knew she had it. Qtaro had to tell him for their plan to happen) no. Instead he essentially opts for a revenge plot. A plan to ensnare Shin and kill him for pawning off the sacrifice to Sara. Basically, he wanted to fuck up Shin like how he fucked up Megumi. Nice going Keiji. This is… kind of his low point in the story.

But 3-1….. man this chapter hits in all the right ways. I don’t remember 3A that much, (although I do know that Keiji shows a lot of concern over Sara potentially being triggered by Joe memorabilia) and also if you fail the Keiji Midori fight you can have Sara attempt to tag Keiji and he rejects. And how can we forget… the mr policeman flashback. As Sara says, this is Keiji’s first time opening up on his own.

And then… coffin saga. Sara through everything is not willing to let Keiji die. Although she’s had her ups and downs with him, leaving him to die is inconceivable to her with everything they’ve been through together. So she opts to sign the contract both times she is offered it.

Keiji clearly is somebody important to Sara. Important enough that Ranmaru bringing him up is enough to snap her out of her murderous trance. Enough that she throws logic out the window when she has a sign he’s okay.

Likewise, the scene in the classroom for Keiji is… a huge step. When he’s alone with Ranmaru, who is unstable, in that classroom, his priority is Sara. He turns his back to the threat to hold Sara and try and make sure she’s okay- dumb move, but it shows how far he’s come.

And again, I want to reiterate- Keiji is Sara’s anchor. At the banquet when Sara is about to give up, she imagines Keiji talking to her which brings her back in the game. Much like Joe did back in chapter 2. The message is palpable. Keiji is Sara’s new Joe. And when Keiji comes back to comfort her? He’s now fully willing to sacrifice himself. It winds up not being needed seeing as Qtaro is the one that died. But in that moment, we see Keiji has made a huge leap from chapter 2. He almost sacrificed himself for Gin. And he would’ve used his final moments to comfort Sara. He’s embraced that he’s a father figure. He allows himself to be a good person.

Anyways I don’t know how to conclude this and I’ve been writing for hours. Bababooey.

[creepling]

am i not enough? (quackity x reader) - apocalypse!AU

( 。・_・。)人(。・_・。 ) | part of the @quackisinnit 1k event !

THE PROMPT IS . . . “ AM I NOT ENOUGH ? “

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader (apocalypse!AU)

word count: 3,306

summary: the reader and alex become a duo while coming across each others paths during a zombie apocalypse. tensions rise as they set up camp in a warehouse, where alex begins to confess how he feels towards the reader. (angst into fluff <33)

tw: zombie apocalypse, blood (ment), cursing, guns, death, eating.

It had been three months since the fallen of mundane life. Three months of complete abnormality, everything known to be in existence that was worth caring about; completely gone. jobs, currency, education were becoming a historic relic. The world was put back to zero. Instead of cavemen and dinosaurs, the new species of flesh-eating corpse’s roamed in packs and seeked for fresh meat. They may have been slow, but they travelled in numbers and they could smell you from a mile away. I learned that your scent became less of a problem when you didn’t keep hygenic. My stence blended with the earth and blood and the roamers didn’t catch us out as much; so we used that to our advantage.

I only had one companion, his name was Alex. He was absolutely dumbfounded when I discovered him. I raided his abandoned home looking for supplies, and when I had to kill a roamer that vacaded in his bedroom; I found him curled up in a ball under his bed. He told me that he had been hiding the whole month when he realised help was to never come; so his only plan was to hide out until he ran out of supplies. That became a problem when I attempted to take them. We made the mutual agreement that if I was to take the supplies, he would come with me. I refused to stay and hide; that is how you get yourself killed. Thankfully he agreed to come with me, and we have been inseperable ever since. However, our bond is nothing close to a friendship, we just had to stick together to survive.

Alex’s main idea was to find a group, hoping by now someone had turned one of the surbubans into a mini civilization. We had travelled between three cities however and we found no sign of good company. As a duo, we have only killed one human within these three months. A man who tried to kill us at gunpoint in hopes of taking our things, to which we scarsely saved our lives by ducking behind a bar table. With one aimless shoot, I shot my gun and it pierced through the man’s chest. I saved our lives, but the sight of the man’s lifeless eyes still haunts me in my sleep. 

One night, Alex found a two-store warehouse to shelter in while on a supply run. He suggested we camp on the second floor and catch up on our sleep and starvation, since we eventually got ahold of sleeping bags and tinned food. I agreed, but reminded him the stay can’t be perminant. He agreed also, still fixated on the idea of finding a commune.

While I made a fire and cooked food, I obvserved Alex drawing in a notepad. I failed to make out what he was doing so I asked, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m trying to draw a map.” He said to me, “It’s not accurate, but it will give us a rough idea of the roads until we find a map.”

“I didn’t take you as a smart person.” I said, hoping he didn’t think I meant it seriously. It was rare for me to joke in times like these, but when I did, my humour came off dry. Thankfully, my comment made Alex scoff out a chuckle.

“And I didn’t take you for a fighter.” Alex said. Since being with each other for two months, we both naturally adopted different roles that benefitted us. Alex was the navigator, the finder; he seemed to have a good sense of direction and I relied on him to not get lost. He also had a good eye and was always good at finding things such as second-way exits or food hiding in obscure places. For me, my job was a lot more physical. I was a good shoot, I knew how to make a fireplace, or bandage a wound. When things got dirty, I would get lucky and save our asses.

“Your food’s ready.” I said, handing him his warm can of chicken soup and a packet of chips. He thanked me, putting his notebook down and sitting cross-legged beside me. As we ate we sat in silence, the only sounds in the warehouse being our mouths chewing the food. We hadn’t ate in nearly a week. I tried my best to chew my chips before swallowing so I didn’t end up with stomache pain, but the instant flavour shot through my tongue and I instinctly ate them quickly. Alex finished his food within minutes, licking the chip packet and his fingers; scraping every last bit of soup from the can and into his mouth. I reluctantly did the same, feeling a little embarrassed; I have never felt so starved in my life. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Alex sighed out, now heating his hands over the fire. I nodded in agreement, collecting the empty tin cans and keeping them next to our things. They will be handy for traps, tying them with strings and hanging them in the woods while hunting would let us know of intruders. It was the small things like that that has made us survive this long.

“Are you gonna go to sleep now? I could keep watch.” I offered, observing Alex’s bloodshot eyes. If we had mirrors, we would flinch at our reflections. Alex looked rough. He always wore his beanie, which he apparently did even before things got bad. He always had a collective spot of dirt on his nose and cheekbones no matter how clean we were, it’s where it always collected the most. His hands were the most dirty, dirt under his short nails and inbetween his fingers. From the rare occasions we touched hands, I felt the softness of his hands, compared to mine that felt aged and rough. His knuckles were stained with blood. Out of both of us, I was covered in the most blood. When I looked down, my hands had a reddish tint, observing more I could see small cuts on my hands from being idle with my knife when striking roamer’s heads. Without having to see, I knew I had sprays of blood on my face from the amount of times I killed roamers. To think when life was normal we cared so much about our appearence, but now activities like doing makeup, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth seemed so pointless. We were slowly becoming used to primitive life and deep down that scared me. I think it scared Alex too.

“I’m tired as fuck, but I know I won’t sleep.” Alex said in a low tone, looking at his hands full of shame. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing exactly how he was feeling. We hadn’t slept properly in months, instead when one person kept watch, the other just lay down with their eyes closed. We forgot what it was like to dream, or to feel hazy. We were constantly alert.

“Since we have no intention of sleeping. Why don’t we play a game?” Alex said. I cocked my eyebrow up in question. What game could we play that didn’t involve making noise and attracting attention?

“We ask each other 20 questions. Normally if you don’t want to answer a question- you would have to do a dare. But hey, wants the point in hiding nowadays?” Alex said, looking at me contently.

“We should be hiding ourselves more than ever, I think.” I said, adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning. “That way no one knows our weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust me?” Alex said. His question threw me off. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, but maybe I was unwilling to get to know him. I had already lost the people close to me, and I was still in grieving. I was too afraid to get close with Alex. I always had the thought in the back of my head that one day, I might end up losing him. His intelligence may only get him so far.

“I understand.” Alex said, taking back his question. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, he must have realized what I was thinking. He lost his close ones too. We both lost so much, we had a mutual understanding about that. Yet, I looked at Alex, and he still felt like a mystery to me. He always pulled out jokes, even in times like these. However, in moments when he thought I wasn’t looking, I could see the pain concealed in his face. Sometimes I even heard him cry at night when he thought I was sleeping. Maybe it was about time we opened up to each other, instead of feeling like we need to suffer alone. We could be there for each other not just physically, but emotionally.

“Okay then, since it was your idea, you ask the first question.” I said, hugging my legs to my chest. Alex smiled a little at me, going into thought as he tried to think of a question.

“So, what did you do when life was normal?” He asked first.

I let out a sigh then replied, “I had a very normal life. Lived with my family, did average in school, worked a job to get money. I actually had plans of moving out to the city, I always wanted to go to LA. I never really had aspirations, just wanted to be content.” It sounded boring, but I was happy with my life. I had my ups and downs like everyone else. “What were you like?”

Alex smirked and looked away from me, seeming to become bashful. “I was a twitch streamer.” He said. “And had a Youtube channel. God- it sounds so stupid now that I say it. Like it was all pointless-”

“Were you like- famous?” I asked, trying to conceal a smile.

“Um- I guess you could say that. I had millions of followers.” Alex shook his head, “But I also went to college. I was studying law. I was always staying up late, barely sleeping; both studying and streaming all the time. It took up my whole life, that I just kinda forgot about everything else.”

“Well, you were obviously not famous, because I didn’t know who you were.” I jokingly said, nudging his side. That seemed to make him smile and feel less embarassed.

“So how the hell did you learn how to shoot if you lived such a normal life?” He asked.

“I just learned while doing it. My dad kept a gun.” I admitted, looking at the very same gun I had in the holster wrapped around my thigh. “He would teach me now and then how to use it, but I was never a shooter. The more roamers I shot, the more I got used to it.” Thinking about someone close to me made me chew the inside of my cheek anxiously.

To deflate my melancholy, I asked the next question. “Did you always wear that stupid hat?”

Alex chuckled and rubbed the top of his hat. “Yeah, twenty-four seven. I don’t why, I just find it comfortable. My “fans” would joke that I was bald because I never showed my hair.” He said, “God- saying the word fans sounds fucked up . . .”

“Maybe you’ll bump into one of them.” I said, “Heck- maybe there’s a commune right now dedicated to you, trying to find you and keep you safe.”

Alex laughed again, covering his face with his hands. I laughed alongside him, the first time I genuinely laughed in a good few weeks. Looking at Alex, seeing how I uplifted him, it struck a chord with me. As much as I didn’t like to show it, but he made affects on me that were indescribable. He made me feel just a little more contempt, without him I would probably not be able to cope for this long. We eventually locked eyes with each other, Alex’s gaze being longer than I expected. If it wasn’t for the blood, my face would have exposed the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Have you ever fell in love, (Y/N)?” Alex then asked me, which set me aback. The question was out the blew and I think Alex realised that as he looked away shyly, his gaze fixated on the flames of the fire to avoid my gaze. I still stared at him, almost in amazment, trying to conjuct a reasonable answer.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “I have loved people, yes, but- I don’t think I have been in love. You’re suppose to know when things like that happen, right?”

Alex didn’t answer me, he kept staring at the fire. I found myself admiring his side profile, watching how he slowly bit his lip; concealed in thought. I noticed how the glow of the flames contrasted with the darkness of his eyes, how the light outlined his complexion. When I realized I was staring for too long, I looked away, instead my eyes looked out the warehouse window, my eyes tracing the stars in the night sky. 

“I feel like I have known you forever.” Alex admitted all at once. “It’s only been two months, but I have gotten close to you more than anyone I have in my whole life. It might sound crazy but- I believe we were suppose to come together that day.”

My gaze turned back to Alex when I felt his eyes lay upon me. His stare was soft, something I only seen in passing times. I was able to admire him for the first time since we met. In this moment, in the dead of night, away from danger and suspicion; I could look at him with full sentiment. I didn’t need to admire him when he was less suspecting it, afraid of receiving decline or making things awkward. In this moment I realized, I may have developed feelings more than companionship towards him. That excited me. But also terrified me.

“I feel that way with you, Alex.” I admitted, “But . . .”

I decided to choose my words carefully. This conversation was heading in a direction that made me nervous. The world is falling apart around us, and I couldn’t help but question our motives. We should be focusing on survival, not developing a relationship that could be destroyed at any second. Once we step out this warehouse, our chances of losing our lives become high. I wasn’t prepared to damage my mental state, it was already bad enough. I realized my long pause was making Alex shift nervously, so I looked at him in hopes my words would slip from my mouth.

I caved in, muttering lowly, “We should get some rest.” I got up on my feet and was ready to grab my sleeping bag and make up a place to rest, until I heard Alex get his his feet and say words that made my heart sink.

“Am I not enough?”

When I turned to look at him, the hurt was glistening in his eyes. He gulped dryly and he fumbled with his fingers. My eyes shifted from side to side as I was stuck with my words. I kept stammering, and I rubbed my face in stress, ready to plead my case. Until Alex jumped in.

“Don’t think I’m only saying these things to you because there is no one else, (Y/N). I have been thinking about this for a while, everytime I am left with my thoughts. I am certain I will still have the same feelings if we met when things didn’t go to shit. I don’t just think this because we have been the only people for each other. I really really like you, (Y/N). And because of the way the world is, I never want to lose you. I never want you to feel alone ever again. I not only want to protect you because we’re a team, I want to protect you because the thought of losing you pains me so much.”

For a split second I thought Alex was about to burst into tears. That was when I did something I thought I would never do again, which was pull him into my embrace. I hugged Alex so tight that I heard him gasp, freeze, until he eventually wrapped his arms around me and held me just as tight. My face buried into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his body, his soft hands caressing my back and brushing his thumb down my spine in a soothing manner.

“You are enough, Alex.” I said, my words muffled by his body. I reached my lips to his ear so he could hear my words clearly. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to like me, or be forced to like me just because we were brought together. I was afraid you thought you were stuck with me.”

I anticipated the day that once we meet other life, Alex would slowly fade away and forget who I was. Once he meets other people, we would go our seperate ways. I never knew why the hypothetical idea pained me so much, until now. As Alex pulled away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes in a loving manner that was foreign to me, his hands on my shoulders, I realized why that idea made my heart feel heavy. I never want him to leave me, I want him to always be by my side. Alex’s gaze was enough proof that he wanted the same.

Stimulated by his touch, I was taken aback when I felt his hand cup my cheek. The warmth of his breath breezing against my cheek, I inhaled as if oxygene was nonexistent. I never realized the proximity between us was slowly closing in and when I did my eyes fluttered shut. Alex hesitated for a split second before pressing his soft lips against my own. My neck bent slightly backwards and I shifted my head to the side to deepen into our kiss, my blood-stained hands grabbing the edges of his open jacket and holding him dearly close. The heat of the kiss intermingled with the heat from the fire, my cheeks and ears grew hot. Alex’s hands were surprisingly warm as he reached his hands under my shirt, pressing his fingers and palms on the middle of my back before running his touch down my spine. My breath became shaky and I felt my legs grow heavy under me, my hands cupped the back of his neck to keep myself uplifted, and luckily Alex’s arms held my weight and pressed my body against his. It felt like hours had went by between our lips moving in sync, our tongues grazing our bottom lip’s, our hands moving and resting on different parts of our bodies. His touch felt contagious, his kisses ranging between soft and passionate. I didn’t want to stop, I never wanted to let go. Between kisses I would mutter you are enough, you are enough which made Alex smile against my lips.

That night, everything we had to worry about became last priority. The focus all throughout was each other, making up for the days where affection couldn’t be shown. In the dead of night, there wasn’t a roamer in sight. Instead of hearing narls and groans or screams of pain, there was only the faint sounds of nature. The full moon glistened, as if to be a prediction for the emotions spilling between us. I promised myself from this moment on, as I admired Alex, I would protect him no matter what. I will make sure he always feels safe as long as he is beside me. He will always be enough, if not more.

TAGLIST: @momo-has-a-gun @diggorysmalfoy @quack42069​ (join my taglist)

[thisbeatchachinglikemoney]

So Far Away (part 3)

Part 8 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Reader x BTS

Summary: Everyone finally makes up... kind of...

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, some triggering PTSD episodes

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup , @lindsayjoy444, @fairygirl18​, @black-rose-29​

AN: The last part of the first part of the series. GOT7 are not a band in this btw. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and what you think of the series so far :) I purple you guys!

Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Y/N POV:

My knees felt weak and my palms were sweating. I knew Yoongi could feel it as he held tightly onto my hand, quickly walking us through the park towards the exit. His jaw was set in determination, his grip on my hand borderline painful, but I knew it was because he was scared... I was too. 

If He had managed to find out where I was, I was never going to be safe. I knew I needed to tell someone, but who would believe me. I had no proof, and the bruises and cuts He had left on me had faded. 

We arrived at the van that was waiting outside for us and Yoongi helped me in before settling near the back. He pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. My heart was racing. I knew he could feel it under his arms.

My stomach churned as I let my thoughts run away with me. What if He finally got to me and took me back to His house and never let me leave or have contact with anyone? What if He actually killed me this time? What if I killed myself? I wasn’t going to be strong enough to make it through. 

“Jagiya, your heart is racing. You need to calm down.” Yoongi said gently. I shifted in his lap so I was sitting sideways. I rested my head on his chest as I sighed, playing with my fingers.

“I’m scared, Yoon.” I whispered. “I don’t think I’ll be able handle it again if He takes me. I really don’t.” I felt him stiffen underneath me, knowing that he knew what I was talking about. 

“Don’t say that.” Yoongi said, stroking my back. “Please, don’t say that.” He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You are the strongest woman I have ever met. You will get through this. And even if he does take you, which he won’t, I will not sleep until I have you back in my arms again.” He vowed. “But that will never happen because he will not be able to get near you. I promise.”

I smiled faintly at him and leaned against his chest. “Just don’t let me go.” I said.

“Never.” Yoongi said. “I love you. I will never let you go.” A small smile crept onto my face as he froze, realizing what he had just said.

“Yoongi oppa,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “I love you too.” I leaned up and kissed his lips gently. “Thank you.” He tilted his head at me in confusion. “Thank you for taking me in and not rejecting me. Not all people like you would have done that for someone like me.”

“I love you, so much.” Yoongi said. “And I think I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you and felt our bond. And I’m not saying that because of it. I’m saying that because you made me feel the same way I do with the members. You make me smile and laugh, which is hard for some people to do. It feels like you complete me.”

“You complete me too. All seven of you.” I replied as the door to the van opened, making me jump and freeze.

“Hyung? Are you here?” Jimin called as he hopped into the van.

“Yeah, we’re here, pretty boy.” Yoongi called back, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Did you round up everyone?”

“Yes, they’re all here.” Jimin replied, making me look at Yoongi.

“All of them?” I asked feeling even more scared. I could not face Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung right now. Not at all.

“It’s okay. They’re all sorry for what they did. I still haven’t forgiven them though.” Yoongi replied. I nodded slowly and rolled my eyes at him.

“Of course you haven’t.” I murmured, making him tickle my sides.

“Yah, what do you mean by that, hmm, baby girl?” He said, his dialect very strong.

“I mean that you haven’t forgiven them because you’re stubborn and want to make them work for your forgiveness. You forget I know you very well, Min Yoongi.” I replied, touching my finger to his nose. I turned as Jimin approached and sat next to us as the others all found their seats in the front two rows.

“Hey my beautiful princess. You okay?” Jimin asked, leaning down and pecking my lips as he pushed my hair out of my face.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied, taking his hand in mine. “I just want a quiet night in with lots of cuddles and some movies. Oh, and lots and lots of ice cream.” I requested.

“That we can do. But first, you have to speak to Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung and sort everything out. They are also your soulmates.” Jimin bargained. I pursed my lips slightly, looking up at Yoongi who nodded.

“Okay.” I agreed. “But I don’t want a massive argument.”

“There won’t be.” Yoongi reassured me. “Is everyone here now?”

“I think so, hyung. Is my carrot okay?” Jungkook called from near the front of the van where he was snuggled next to Namjoon. Hoseok and Jin were with Taehyung near the middle.

“Carrot?” Yoongi frowned, looking at me. I whined and covered my face with my hands, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

“I’ll tell you later.” I replied making him nod and peck my cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine Kookie oppa.” I called back, making him flash me his bunny smile before he settled back in his seat.

After a half an hour drive, we arrived back to Yoongi’s apartment. Home. Yoongi helped me out of the van and together we walked up to his apartment quickly while the others gathered their things.

“Get changed into something comfy.” He said gently. “Do you want to order takeout?” I nodded as I rifled through my drawers to find some sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Yoongi oppa, can I have a hoodie please?” I asked, beginning to undress myself. He hummed and nodded, walking to his closet and grabbing one out.

“Okay, when I bought you that set, I knew it would look good, but fuck, jagiya.” He groaned when he turned around to pass me his black hoodie that had the word ‘Damn’ written on the front. I flushed red and moved to pull on my sweatpants, but he moved forward and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “Just let me look at you.” He said, holding onto my waist. His eyes travelled down my body hungrily.

“Yoongi...” I whined as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my sternum. “We have other people here. We can’t. Not right now.”

“I know.” He said, his forehead resting against my chest. I ran my hands through his hair, the smell of his shampoo and cologne reaching my nose.

“So can you let me get changed please? I don’t really fancy having this conversation in my underwear.”

“It’s so sexy though.” Yoongi huffed. He pulled away from me. “Get changed, quickly, because I don’t know how much longer I will be able to control myself.” I quickly pulled on the hoodie and sweatpants and we left the bedroom and entered the living room.

Hoseok and Jimin were cuddled together on the armchair while Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook were sprawled over each other on one of the sofas. Taehyung was lying across the other one, his eyes closed and foot moving to the beat of the music playing on the TV. Yoongi cleared his throat, making Taehyung sit up straight and Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook pay attention and look at us.

“I think three of you here have something to say.” Yoongi said slowly, making Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung hang their heads in shame. 

Jimin stood up off Hoseok’s lap and approached me, kissing my lips gently. “I’ll see you soon, okay.” He said softly. “Kook, Jin hyung, let’s go. Give them some space.” Jin and Jungkook stood up and followed Jimin out of the room, dropping swift kisses to my lips.

“So...” Namjoon said awkwardly as Yoongi sat down on the armchair, pulling me onto his lap. “We’re your soulmates, then.” He said slowly.

“That does change anything you said about her, Namjoon ah.” Yoongi said sternly. “Properly apologize, the three of you.”

Much to my surprise, it was Taehyung who spoke first. “Y/N-ssi, I should be the first to apologize. It was me who told Yoongi hyung to reject you when I found out. I know now that that was unacceptable for me to do and it was not my place to make that decision, but I was just scared and jealous. Scared that Yoongi finding you would throw off our entire relationship dynamic and jealous that he would most likely spend more time with you than me. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like an outsider. I understand if you can’t forgive me. What I have done and said is inexcusable.” He said, dropping to his knees in front of me.

“I-” I looked at Yoongi, who gave me a comforting smile and rubbed my hip. I did feel bad for Taehyung; it was me who took Yoongi away from him, but he could have voiced his feelings earlier and we wouldn’t be in this mess. “I accept your apology, Taehyung-ssi, but what you said about not only me but also Yoongi is something that I cannot forgive that easily. But I am willing to get to know you and spend time with you while I take the time I need to fully process what has been said and done.” I said slowly.

“I understand. Thank you.” Taehyung smiled and returned back to his seat. 

“I’m sorry that I made you feel scared and unwanted.” Namjoon spoke up.

“And me too.” Hoseok agreed. “We were both being selfish and unwilling to give you a chance.”

“And we were protecting Taehyungie.” Namjoon added. “We didn’t know if you would be a saesang or not. We wanted to make sure everyone was safe. But we know now we should have given you a chance and that is something we both really regret.”

I nodded and hummed. “But if you were scared of me being a saesang, why would you let Yoongi be alone with me?”

Namjoon and Hoseok looked at each other before turning back to face me. “Yoongi was adamant that you weren’t, so we thought it would be best to allow him to spend some time with you and if you turned out to be a saesang, then...” Namjoon trailed off and hung his head, not making eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Then what, Namjoon?” Yoongi asked carefully, his voice laced with a slight hint of venom. I could tell Yoongi had not heard this part of their story before.

“Then we hoped it would have taught you the lesson that you should listen to us.” Namjoon admitted. “Yoongi hyung, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I was just angry.”

“Angry enough that you would allow me to be hurt if it came to it?” Yoongi was seething. “And just to think I was starting to forgive you both.” He gently pushed me off his lap and stood up, stalking over to Namjoon. “How could you ever think of doing that to not only one of your best friends, but also your boyfriend!” He yelled and raised his hand over his head, making me flinch.

Jimin POV:

We were listening in on the conversation just to know how it was going. We could hear voices starting to become slightly raised, so I was ready to go out there and take Y/N away so she wouldn’t begin to have any flashbacks to what had happened to her. I moved out of the door to watch her carefully and see how she was acting and reacting to everything.

I watched as Yoongi pushed her off his lap to walk over to Namjoon. I could tell he was about to yell and I knew that was one of the things that could potentially set Y/N off. 

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asked me in a hushed whisper. 

“There’s about to be an argument and Y/N will not be able to handle the yelling.” I replied, walking further away from the door. And that was when Yoongi shouted, and raised his hand over his head, and Y/N, my sweet, beautiful princess, flinched away from him. “Shit.” I said under my breath and quickly made my way into the living room. “Come on, princess.” I said, wrapping my arms around her and leading her away from the argument. 

“Where are you taking her?” Yoongi asked, turning around, his eyes flaming with anger.

“You’re scaring her.” I said shortly, taking her to one of the bedrooms to calm her down. “You can come and see her once you have calmed down.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Taehyung curled up on the sofa, his hands over his ears. He hated it when people shouted in anger and he would only resort to it himself if he really had to. “Taehyungie, come on.” I said softly, holding out my hand to him. He looked up and almost ran over to me, taking hold of my hand like it was his lifeline.

When I turned to look at Yoongi, I saw his eyes filled with guilt. “Y/N, jagiya, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He reached out to touch her but she flinched away from him again, making him take a step backwards and cover his mouth, regret filling him.

“You can come and speak to her once you have properly calmed down and thought about what you were going to say.” I said coldly. “Sort this out first.” I gestured between him and Namjoon. “I’ve got you princess.” I whispered in her ear as I lead them both to the bedroom.

Jin looked up when we entered the bedroom, noticing Taehyung’s tear-stained face, and Y/N’s blank stare. “What the hell happened?” He asked, his eyes glancing between the two of them worriedly.

“Yoongi shouted.” I replied.

“Shit. Tae baby, come here, come to hyungie.” Jin said, opening his arms. Taehyung let out a choked sob before hurling himself towards Jin, dissolving into tears. Jin began to calm him down as Jungkook and I tried to break Y/N out of her own mind.

“Princess, you’re okay. You’re safe.” I said as I sat down on the bed, sitting her down between me and Jungkook. She was silent and remained staring into space.

“Carrot?” Jungkook pushed her hair out of her face. “Jimin hyung, she’s saying something.” He said, noticing her lips were moving.

“Princess, what are you saying?” I asked gently. All of a sudden, she screamed and began to cover her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” She begged as she sobbed.

“Princess, you’re okay.” I said again. “Listen to my voice. You’re here with me, Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung. We’re all here for you. We will keep you safe.” I said. “Come back to us. Please. I can’t bear to see you hurting.”

“It’s not working.” Jungkook said, panic filling his eyes. “What should we do now?”

“Ummm...” I wasn’t sure what to do. I racked my brain, trying to remember if Yoongi had told me something about how she would calm herself down. “She used to dance to calm herself, but she can’t do that now.”

“Sing to her, hyung!” Jungkook said as he got the idea. “Let’s sing to her.”

Y/N POV:

I was back in His house. No, this was not possible. I had left him. I was with Yoongi now. Unless... that was all a dream. A nice, peaceful, cruel dream. It must have been. Why would an idol like him be soulmates with someone as broken as me? Why would I be lucky enough to have seven soulmates? I looked down at myself. I was wearing a familiar red cocktail dress. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah I knew that dress would look beautiful on you.” A voice came from behind me, making me jump. I gulped as I turned around and saw Him stood in front of me. He scoffed. “Is that how you greet your boyfriend on your anniversary party?” He asked. He moved closer to me and raised his hand to slap me across the face. “Now, greet me properly, you dumb bitch.”

“Happy anniversary, Jackson.” I said quietly. He grabbed hold of my jaw, his fingers digging in hard. 

“Hmm, happy anniversary to you too.” He kissed me, instantly slipping his tongue into my mouth. “Now go and greet our guests and offer them some refreshments.” He ordered, smacking my ass. I nodded and left the room to go to the kitchen, grabbing the tray with the champagne flutes.

I walked over to the first group of people, realizing them to be some of Jackson’s friends from work. “Hello, thank you so much for coming.” I said with a smile. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Ah, hello darling. Thank you for the invite.” One of his colleagues, Yugyeom, said with a smile. “Happy anniversary to you and Jackson. He was very excited about your present today.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be a very good present.” I smiled, as they all took a glass. “I’ll see you all later at dinner.” I bowed as I walked away to the next group of people. Soon the glasses of champagne were replaced with red wine as dinner loomed nearer. 

“Y/N, come here a second.” Jackson called me over. I carefully walked over, ensuring I did not trip and spill the red wine on anything otherwise it would stain and Jackson would get mad at me. “Is the dinner ready to be served yet?”

“The cook said it would be another five minutes. They are just plating everything. They’ll come and ring the bell when it’s time for everyone to be seated.” Just after I spoke, one of the cooks came out and rang the bell, indicating it was time to eat. “It’s ready now, I guess.”

“I didn’t realize.” Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed past me, causing me to spill the red wine all over his white suit jacket. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Jackson, it was an accident.” I said quickly. He grabbed hold of my wrist and squeezed tightly.

“You will put down that tray and then follow me upstairs. Say you are going to help me with my jacket if anyone asks.” He said slowly, his eyes blazing with anger. I nodded timidly and set down the tray, following him out of the room.

Upstairs, he took off his jacket and turned to face me, clicking his knuckles as he tilted his head to the side, watching me like I was his prey. My heart began to hammer in my chest as I glanced up at him.

“I didn’t say you could look at me.” He said, making me look down at my feet. “Get on your knees you little bitch and apologize for ruining my expensive suit!” He shouted, shoving me down.

“I’m sorry for spilling wine on your jacket, Jackson, I am clumsy and lost my footing on the way back to the kitchen. I will make sure it never happens again. Please don’t hurt me.”

“You’re damn right it won’t.” He said. “Now...” I heard his belt unbuckle and him pull out through the loops in his trousers. “You’re going to take your punishment and then you’re going to stay up here. You don’t deserve to eat. You need to earn it.” I heard him fold the belt and felt him pull down the straps of my dress. 

I yelped as the belt hit my shoulder. He was holding it with the buckle in his hand, but I knew that would change. There was another hit, and then another. He continued until I was begging him to stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” I cried. He just scoffed and paused while he readjusted his grip before hitting me again, this time with the belt buckle. I felt it rip my skin open as it made contact and felt the hot blood trickle down my back. He hit me another ten times before he threw the belt on the bed and knelt down in front of me.

“Now, stay up here and don’t make a sound. I’m going to lock the door behind me so you don’t even try to get out.” He grabbed hold of my hair and pulled me up, making me cry out in pain. “Go do whatever you want with yourself. I don’t care.” He threw me into the corner of the room, leaving me crying and broken. I curled up in the corner, letting the tears roll down my face. I wasn’t going to be able to last much longer in this environment. I had to try and get out, whether that be I run away or end everything. 

Why did my mind have to grace me with such a cruel yet calming dream? Why could I not be there? I knew that was how I was supposed to be treated in a relationship, but there was the fear of no one wanting me ever again with all my emotional baggage.

I let my brain drift away and shut down slightly to drown out the pain of the wounds on my back. I could hear faint voices, singing one of my favorite songs that would calm me down.

허공을 떠도는 작은 먼지처럼, 작은 먼지처럼 날리는 눈이 나라면 조금 더 빨리 네게 닿을 수 있을 텐데

눈꽃이 떨어져요 또 조금씩 멀어져요 보고 싶다 (보고 싶다) 보고 싶다 (보고 싶다) 얼마나 기다려야 또 몇 밤을 더 새워야 널 보게 될까 (널 보게 될까) 만나게 될까 (만나게 될까, ooh-ooh-ooh)

추운 겨울 끝을 지나 다시 봄날이 올 때까지 꽃 피울 때까지 그곳에 좀 더 머물러줘, 머물러줘

Translation:

Like the tiny dust, tiny dust floating in the air Will I get to you a little faster If I was the snow in the air

Snowflakes fall down And get farther away little by little I miss you (I miss you) I miss you (I miss you) How long do I have to wait And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend To see you (to see you) To meet you (to meet you)

Passing by the edge of the cold winter Until the days of spring Until the days of flower blossoms Please stay, please stay there a little longer

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” I heard someone call out to me. It sounded like Jimin. Was my brain really tricking me again?

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.” I murmured to myself.

“No, princess, this is real. We are real.” Jimin said gently. “Come on, come back to me. To us. You’re stuck inside your mind. Just listen to my voice.” I could feel a hand on my shoulder and voices talking to me. My vision began to become fuzzy and then clear. I was back in Yoongi’s apartment. This was real. That was just a memory. A horrible memory.

“Jimin.” I cried out before dissolving into tears in his arms. “It was him. It was Jackson. I was back with him. I didn’t mean to spill the wine. It was an accident.”

He pulled me onto his lap. “You are okay. You’re safe. I’m here with you. Jungkook is here with you. Jin is here with you. Taehyung is here with you. We’re all here with you.” He rocked me gently from side to side, his hands rubbing a soothing rhythm on my back.

“Please don’t let him hurt me again.” I sobbed.

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, princess.” Jimin said, his voice cracking slightly. Was he crying? “I can’t stand it when you cry.” He admitted. “It breaks my heart.”

“Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened?” Jin asked, taking hold of my hand.

“I...” I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. “I’m not sure what happened. All I know is Yoongi raised his voice and made an action like he was about to hit something and then I was back there.” I took a deep breath to try and calm myself down. “It was strange. It was like I was reliving the past with no memory of what happened during that time, but I remembered all of you. I thought this was all just a dream.”

“This is not a dream.” Taehyung said gently, still keeping his distance. “But I’m slightly confused. Who’s Jackson?”

“Jackson is my abusive ex who I had run away from the night I met Yoongi.” I replied. “I don’t really like to talk about him because he caused some of the darkest moments in my life.”

“He sounds horrible. I’m glad you got away and found us.” Taehyung said.

I smiled at him. “I’m glad too.” I turned to look at Jungkook who was sat facing the wall. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Jungkook said, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve.

“No, you’re not.” I got off of Jimin’s lap and knelt down in front of him. “Why are you crying?”

“I was scared we had lost you. I was scared you had gone to a really dark place and were not going to be able to get out of it. It was so painful to watch.” He said quietly. “But you’re okay now, so I’ll be okay too.” He leaned down and kissed my lips gently. “I’ll always be okay if you are okay.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. I turned and saw Taehyung stood there awkwardly still. It was strange. I looked at him and in that moment I understood why he had said everything he had said. He was just scared and wasn’t sure how to deal with it, like I was. He dealt with his fear in a way he saw best, as did I, even if we were both wrong. “Tae.”

He looked at me and hummed. “What’s wrong? Do you guys need some privacy because I can go if you need me to.”

“No, Tae, I just wanted to say that I forgive you. I understand why you did what you did. You were like me, sort of. We were both scared of the situations we found ourselves in and the ways we dealt with it, no matter how bad they seem now, were what we thought was right at the time.”

“Do you... do you mean that?” He asked. I nodded, causing a boxy smile to form on his face. “Thank you. I’ll be the best boyfriend ever!” He pulled me into a hug, his tall frame completely enveloping mine.

“I think you have a few other competitors for that title.” I laughed, making him shrug.

“I don’t see them as competition.” There was a knock at the door, making us move apart.

“Who is it?” Jin called.

“It’s Yoongi. Can I come in? Please, I need to see her.” I heard Yoongi’s muffled voice say from behind the door. Jimin looked over to me. I looked between him and the door, trying to decide what to do. 

“I...” I trailed off. He did shout at me and cause me to have a flashback for the first time, but that was not his fault. “Let him in.”

“Are you sure, darling?” Taehyung asked. I nodded. 

“I have you four, don’t I?” I said. “My four protectors.”

“Your four protectors.” Taehyung confirmed, hugging me from behind and resting his chin on the top of my head. I sat down on the bed and Jimin looked at me once more before opening the door.

“Princess.” Yoongi came over to me and knelt in front of me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you scared. I honestly didn’t know.” He said. His eyes were red and puffy. I could tell he had been crying.

“You caused her to have a flashback, Yoongi hyung.” Jimin said curtly.

“No.” Yoongi sat down on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such a terrible boyfriend. You should just reject me as your soulmate right now.” I looked at the other four, silently telling them to leave us alone. Jimin looked unsure, but allowed Taehyung to pull him out of the room.

“Yoongi, it was a mistake. You couldn’t have known. Even I didn’t know.” I said. “This is not your fault. It’s mine for having such a broken mind that it can’t even deal with a simple argument.” Yoongi looked up at me with a frown.

“Don’t you ever, ever say it is your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever say that, jagiya.” He said sternly, holding my hands.

“I forgive you, Yoon.” I said gently. “I will always forgive you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, jagiya. I’m so sorry.” He said, leaning up to connect our lips.

“Where are Hoseok and Namjoon?” I asked.

“I sent them off to get pizza and lots and lots of snacks.” He said. “You said you wanted a movie night, and so I’m going to give you the best movie night ever.” He flashed his gummy smile at me, making me fall in love with him even more, and feel the safest I have ever felt in my life. All of them did.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Unfurl and Fly

Prompt: Hello! I've been meaning to request this for so long but, you'd never posted any Sanders Sides fanfics till recently so I finally get to ask! = D

This is simply a request, but could you possibly to a Hurt/Comfort and Angsty o ed! Virgil fanfiction? Where he hides his wings for whichever reason you want- And it's *painful*, and eventually his wings get to damaged from constantly being hidden and self-groomed and other stuff of the sort and the others find out either accidentally cuz Virgil is in Too Much Pain, or Virgil reaches out- Just, take creative liberties with it! (Platonic LAMP all around- Or you can decide if it's romantic! Idc, whichever you prefer-) = D You can decide whether the others have wings or not, or if it's only the 'dark sides', or no one except Virgil, etc etc. I just have craved this for So Long in your writing specifically!

Whether you decide you would like to do this idea of not, that's fine! ^^ Just thought I'd suggest it! Thank you very much! = D - moonscar

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3 The sequel: Soar

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, found family babes let’s go

Warnings: self-hatred, some implied self-harm, self-destructive behavior, poor Virgil is not having a good time, y’all. Sympathetic Janus, sympathetic Remus

Word Count: 7,932

Out of all of the Sides to have wings, why the fuck did it have to be Virgil?

 Come on, it’s not like it even fits with Anxiety, being able to fly? Having these big fucking things sticking out of his back? No thank you, that’s more literally anyone else’s thing! Roman would love it, he’s sure, soaring to great heights and all that. Patton’s the closest one of them to actually being an angel. Logan could use them to fly away from the bullshit.

 But nope. Virgil’s the one stuck with them. Isn’t that just fantastic.

Virgil grunts and pulls his hoodie on tighter, zipping it up over the sports bra. He growls and reaches back to tug the wings into place under the layers of fabric, hunching his back so the others don’t notice that there’s conspicuously more mass on his back than there’s supposed to be. Thank god he’s already known for baggy clothes.

 He has to walk carefully. Too much jostling and the wings’ll pop loose. He leans on the stairs as much as he can before making his way to the back of the couch. He looks around. No one else is here.

 Which would make sense, seeing as it’s three am.

 Virgil winces when something twinges in his shoulder blade. His ears strain to pick up the sounds of anyone moving; no floorboards creak, no doors open or close, no sinks or anything else. Shit. Fuck, it’s happening when he’s breathing now too.

  Shit.

 Wincing, Virgil unzips his hoodie and slowly, slowly starts to lift his shirt up, sliding his hands under the material to try and—

 A door opens upstairs and in a flash, Virgil’s hoodie is fully zipped up and his hands are back in his pockets.

 Patton walks downstairs, rubbing his eyes. He blinks lazily and turns to go to the kitchen.

 “Patton?”

 Virgil winces when Patton startles horribly, whirling around until his eyes land on Virgil, perched on the back of the couch.

 “You scared me, kiddo,” he pants, leaning against the counter before forcing a smile onto his face, “what’re you doing up?”

 Virgil shrugs, trying to hide his flinch when one of his wings snag against something. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

 “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.” Patton tilts his head. “Anything I can do to help?”

 Patton…Patton might be nice.

 Patton would help, right? He—he’d care enough to help. Wouldn’t he? Patton had tried, so hard, when Virgil was first…around, just to make him comfortable, help him fit in, make him feel at…at home.

 But—but Patton is the kind of person who would do anything to help someone and Virgil…Virgil doesn’t want that either.

 Patton would see his wings—his ugly, dirty, huge wings—and look at Virgil with so much pity that he would be forced to help out. And the thought of hands in his wings was bad enough. The thought of unwilling hands in his wings was even worse.

 Not Patton.

 Virgil smiles, tightlipped in the dark. “No thanks, padre. ’S just the job.”

 It’s a little sad how quickly Patton nods. “I trust you, kiddo, if you say you can do it I believe you.”

 A sigh of relief lessens the ache in his shoulder blades for just a moment, then Virgil narrows his eyes. “What’re you doing up right now?”

 “Needed a drink!” And sure enough, Patton goes into the kitchen and grabs a glass. “You want one?”

 “…no, no I’m good.”

 “Suit yourself.” Once the glass is full, Patton yawns, his jaw cracking, before he walks over to ruffle Virgil’s hair. “You gonna try and sleep a little?”

 “Maybe.”

 “G’night, kiddo.”

 “Night.”

 Once Patton vanishes back up the stairs, Virgil holds completely still until he hears the door click. As soon as it does, he slumps, burying his head in his hands, ignoring the bolt of white-hot pain that shoots through him. That was too fucking close.

What was he thinking? He can’t be here, not now, not while they hurt so much.

 He sinks back to his room, biting his lip to stifle the noise when his wings slip under the bra. Now he won’t be able to get it off without hurting them—fuck why is this is fucking life?

 He has to go slow, agonizing second by agonizing second, until the bra lies crumpled at the foot of his bed and he’s panting, sweat beading on his forehead and two new gashes in his lip. He takes one shuddering breath, then two, then—

 “Come on, you assholes,” he mutters, “just…fucking cooperate for me.”

 His wings creak and groan as he unfurls them, stretching them out until his throat protests with the effort of holding back a scream. He bound them wrong this time. One of the tendons is twisted, slipped over the bone on his right wing and every flex threatens to rip it entirely. His eyes, screwed tight from the effort, blink away tears, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

 He forgot to cover it again.

 Virgil winces when he sees the state of his wings. The primaries aren’t lying flat, the secondaries are all bent out of shape, he can see the loose feathers stuck in the rest of the mess, and his oil gland must be clogged again. He can hear everything rasping together, the creaking, and everything. He—he has to try again.

 Slowly, he sits down in front of the mirror, crossing his legs and sitting up as much as he can. He holds his wings out and winces at the sharp yank. Flexing his fingers, he reaches out with his hand and starts combing through his feathers. He can’t get the right angle no matter how much he twists his wrists and trying to hold the wing in place doesn’t work either. But he’s able to pull a few of the loose feathers out. It doesn’t matter that he plucks out several of the remaining healthy ones as well.

 Alright. Step one done.

 Virgil braces himself and twists, reaching out quickly for his wing before his back pulls away from him. He grabs it with two outstretched hands and can’t stop the cry of pain when another sizzling bolt races down his spine. He can barely hold onto it for three seconds before he has to let go. A roll of nausea makes him retch, hunched over himself, tears springing anew to his eyes.

  Pathetic.

  Can’t even clean yourself properly.

  Worthless.

  Useless.

  Dirty.

 The room rings with shuddering breaths as his chest heaves, the pain still zinging through his wings. He can’t. He can’t do it. He can’t clean them properly, not now, maybe not ever. He fucking bound them wrong, like an idiot and now he has to sleep on his stomach and if someone walks in they’ll see them and he won’t be able to bind them properly if they don’t heal and—

 The fucking worst thing about his wings is they always try and make things better. They twitch whenever he’s near someone he likes or bristle when he feels upset. And when he’s alone, all by himself, about to have a panic attack, they always try and hug him.

 So Virgil cries there, on the floor, surrounded by his ugly, dirty, painful wings.

 He sleeps on the floor that night too, a few pillows here and there to keep him from pressing his face directly into the ground, wings as outstretched as he can until he can ignore the pain long enough to fall into a fitful, uneasy rest. When he wakes, the joints are still tender and he curses, knowing if he tries to bind them again it’ll just get worse. That means a day of staying in his room, which by itself wouldn’t be awful except that the others would know.

 When Virgil was alone, he could have his wing day all by himself and no one would care. He could stay shut up in his room without fear that someone would come and knock on the door, wondering where he was, if he was okay, did he need anything? He’d tried, he’d tried so hard to convince himself that alone was better, alone was safe, alone protected him.

 But the others were magnets, always pulling him closer, closer, closer until he was bound within them. How was he supposed to pull away from that warmth, that care, when every time he was close to it his wings reached out? He had to start binding them when he first appeared to Thomas, yes, but it wasn’t until recently that he had to start binding them. Because they would reach for the others. All the time.

 He couldn’t have that.

 So he tied them up.

 And it was worth it. It was worth being able to stand next to Roman, to see that smile up close. It was worth being able to stand next to Logan, to hear him talk and explain everything he could ever want to know. It was worth being able to stand next to Patton, to feel warm and safe.

 The pain was worth it, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

 The others couldn’t know about his wings. If they did, they might—they would—

 Only dark sides had animal traits. If they knew Virgil had wings—

 Virgil shakes his head and groans into the pillow. He can’t go back. Not after what he’s done. He can’t—he won’t—there isn’t—

 He barely remembers being small. He remembers being scared, being afraid, fumbling in the dark, but he almost never remembers being small. Small enough where he didn’t know yet to be afraid to ask someone for help, when hands in his wings weren’t tied up with problems or intimacy or care or obligation. Small enough where he could cuddle into the lap of someone who loved him and not have to worry.

 He remembers getting older and being scared, huddling in the dark with the others.

 He remembers rubbing his hand over shedding scales. He remembers helping rub away the twitches in newly formed tentacles. He remembers hands, hands in his wings.

 Those memories are locked away, behind bars Virgil won’t let himself bring down.

 A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts.

 “Yeah?”

  Fuck, does his throat sound like that?

 “Virgil?” Logan. “Are you alright?”

 “What the fuck is an alright,” Virgil mutters, pushing himself up off the ground and wincing, before raising his voice, “I’m fine, Logan.”

 “You didn’t come down for breakfast—“ shit— “and we were concerned.”

 “Didn’t feel like coming down,” Virgil tries, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably, “but I’m all good here.”

 “Are you certain?”

 Logan…Logan would help.

 Logan would understand things from a logical perspective. He would be the most business-like about it, just doing what needed to be done and leaving. He might find it…interesting? He would get it over with.

 He would…get it over with.

 A human figure having wings is illogical. Virgil doesn’t want to be stared at like some sort of…object. And…and…Virgil wants to be cared for, not treated like a chore. The desire burns a shameful hole in his gut, the craving for soft words and gentle touches accompanied by flaming cheeks and a roll of disgust. He doesn’t think he’d be able to hold back the tears at being treated so…coldly, even if it would be better for him.

 Not Logan.

 “I’m sure,” Virgil grits out, “thanks, though.”

 “Of course. Will we see you for dinner?”

 Swallows before his tongue chokes him. “Dunno.”

 “Very well.”

 He hears Logan walk away and cringes. That was awful. But he’s made a commitment now, so he has to get ready for dinner. Four hours should be enough.

 Sitting up is a slow process and every few moments he has to stop when his vision grows spotty. He flexes his wings, watches the shape twist back for a few seconds before he has to relax it again. The ache has dulled slightly and maybe he can try again.

 Raising his arms straight above his head, muscles straining, shaking, Virgil bites his lip and holds for one, two, three seconds until he cries out and lets them drop. Nope. No way. If he can’t even do that, he’s not gonna be able to pull the sports bra over his head, much less get his wings tucked into position. He winces and looks around for the belt.

 He hates using the belt but it is easier on his shoulders. Instead of tucking the whole folded-up mess into the sports bra, he folds his wings up as small as they’ll go and wraps a belt around them, straining behind him and valiantly ignoring how much it hurts until he’s sure he’s got it around the joints. He lets go with a gasp, rolling his shoulders experimentally. It still aches, yes, but much less, and as he turns to the side, if he just wears a big enough shirt, with his hoodie on, no one will notice.

 That means he can use the rest of the time to get used to it.

 By the time he walks down to dinner, the others are waiting, Roman’s face lighting up in a huge smile as he sees Virgil round the top of the stairs.

 “There’s our little Stormcloud!” He waves Virgil over to the chair next to him. “Haven’t seen your gloomy face all day, I’ve missed it!”

 Virgil snorts. “You’ve just missed seeing another version of you, Princey.”

 “Can you blame me, Hot Topic?” Roman winks. “We’re gorgeous.”

 “The fact that we all share a face should not be surprising to you,” Logan remarks as he closes his book.

 “Aw, you think I’m hot.”

 “Pasta!” Patton places the pot on the table and Virgil winces when the sound makes his wings twitch. He doesn’t catch Roman’s concerned look. “Who wants what?”

 “Just olive oil for me.”

 “You got it, Logan.”

 “I’ve got mine,” Roman announces, sweeping half of the condiments on the table toward him and combining them in…a way.

 “…jeez,” Virgil mutters.

 Patton rolls his eyes fondly as Logan and Roman start idly bickering about the appropriate condiments for pasta. A steaming bowl slides to a stop in front of him and without pausing, Roman passes Virgil the jar of sauce.

 Virgil watches the jar slide to a stop in front of him, blinking up at Roman who just gives him a quick wink and goes right back to bickering with Logan. Patton giggles as Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to hide his smile as Princey grins. It’s a game now, to see which one of them will break character first. Princey’s the actor, but Logan’s got an incredible deadpan face. And when he’s in a playful mood the two of them can go at it for hours. Virgil and Patton just sit back to watch the show.

 As it turns out, both of them break character at the same time tonight, Logan stumbling over a word, and Princey accidentally slurring Logan’s name as he tries to come up with a comeback. Logan immediately tries to hide his smile behind his hand only to snort when Princey screws his face up in protest.

 “How did I manage to do that,” he cries, “I said—what the hell did I say?”

 Patton’s laughing too hard to answer and Virgil just shakes his head helplessly.

 Logan snorts. Tries to stifle it again. Then his giggles start to slip out. “D-damn it.”

 Roman gives up trying to stop his own cackles and throws his head back, letting it ring out. “We were doing so well, too!”

 “We were indeed,” Logan says through a smile, “perhaps we should try again.”

 “No, no, no, I won’t be able to get any words out before I’m reminded of whatever the heck my tongue did.”

 “What word were you trying to say?”

 “I don’t even remember.”

 Dinner gets finished and Logan stands to help Patton clean up. Roman leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. Virgil watches him, his eye first caught by the movement, lingering when he sees the rush of relief on Roman’s face.

 Is…is that what stretching is supposed to feel like?

 “Stormcloud?”

 Virgil blinks. Oh. Oh, fuck, he’s staring. Roman stares down at him, his head tilted.

 “You’ve been quiet today, Stormcloud,” Roman says, too low for Logan or Patton to hear, “everything Gucci?”

 Nope. Princey’s not allowed to do that. Definitely not. He’s not allowed to sound that caring because Virgil will talk to him.

 “Everything’s fine.”

 Roman raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

 “Shut up,” Virgil grumbles, shoving Roman halfheartedly as he chuckles.

 He goes to pull his hand back but Roman catches it, making him wince when his wings jar. This time he doesn’t miss Roman’s look of concern.

 “Virgil,” Roman calls, “are you hurt?”

 Yes. “Nah. Just slept weird.” On the ground, in pain.

 “You don’t want me to sic Patton on you, do you?”

 Virgil shudders, ignoring the twinge in his wings again. “No. Nope. I’m good.”

 Roman chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. “Alright. You just come and tell me when you need something, hmm?”

 Roman…maybe Roman?

 Roman, who is desire and passion and so, so warm to the touch. Roman, who has tried so, so hard to make Virgil his friend, to care for him. Roman, who looks at Virgil with soft expressions and sly winks and is just so there.

 …Roman, who treated him like a villain. Roman, who Virgil knows struggles to keep his own head above water most of the time. Roman, who can put on a mask to rival any actor’s, who can hide everything so well they might never know what’s really going on.

 Not Roman.

 “…yeah, sure, Princey.”

 “Marvelous!”

 And despite everything, despite the pain in his wings and the belt digging into the soft points of his feathers, Virgil smiles, just a little.

 If this is what he has to deal with to be a part of this, then he’ll do it.

 Then Deceit shows up and Virgil panics.

 Not because of what this means, not because of how it’s going to affect Thomas, but because Deceit knows.

 Deceit knows that Virgil has wings. Deceit knows that Virgil is a dark side. Deceit knows that Virgil hasn’t told the others.

 He’s safe—at least he thinks he’s safe—because if Deceit tells them about his wings, he’d have to tell the others he sheds too. And Deceit won’t ever volunteer information about himself like that. Virgil has one moment of panic on the witness stand, thinking Deceit’s about to split his defenses wide open, but no, no, he’s wings stay tucked up, ugly and rumpled, Virgil’s very own dirty little secret.

 Luckily—or unluckily—there are too many other things to focus on for Deceit to let slip that particular little secret. Virgil is too worried about Thomas and Patton and Roman and Logan and everything to worry any more about his wings. He runs on adrenaline and worries for days, weeks, months until it’s all he can think about, over and over, coffee being drained as quickly as Logan can brew it.

 He plucks out his own feathers in the dark and washes the blood off the carpet. He strains to move his arms, his shoulders, anything, just to get a little more range of motion. He wipes the crusted salt from the corner of his eyes and grits his teeth.

 Then Remus shows up and does what Remus does best: wreak absolute chaos.

 Roman is knocked out, Logan gets a shuriken in the forehead, and Virgil tells Thomas he used to be a dark side.

 The second he sinks into his room after that he tears at himself, his hoodie thrown to the corner of the room as his wings groan and buckle and writhe as Virgil paces.

  Why did he do that why did he do that now he knows now they know now it’s going to be so much worse they’re going to hate me again I’m going to be alone alone is safe alone protects me but alone is cold and lonely and alone hurts it hurts I hurt make it stop please—

 He’s panicking, he knows he’s panicking, he knows he should go, go find someone, have Logan help him, talk to Roman, get a hug from Patton, but his wings are out, he can’t put them away and they hurt, they hurt so much, everything hurts so much, he just wants it to stop.

 Virgil collapses onto the floor, ignoring the sickening crunch as one of his wings buckles under his weight. It just…it just hurts.

 Thomas doesn’t say anything.

 Patton doesn’t say anything.

 Logan doesn’t say anything.

 Roman doesn’t say anything.

 Remus doesn’t say anything.

 Janus doesn’t say anything.

 And somehow…somehow that’s worse.

 It doesn’t get easier, it just gets repetitive.

 He doesn’t try to get the spots he can’t reach anymore. He knows he can’t get the oil glands cleaned. He washes them as best he can but he knows he can’t dry them properly. He wears the sports bra. He wears the belt.

 He endures.

 Then he fucks up.

 Janus has been watching him. In fairness, Janus watches everybody, but he’s been keeping a particularly close eye on Virgil. If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d think Janus was suspicious of him, that he’d do something to ruin Janus’s seat at the table, or hurt the others, or try and turn them against each other. It would make sense, given their…history.

 But Virgil knows Janus better than that.

 He knows that look and that’s why he shies away from it.

 He lashes out and he hates himself for it. He scorns Janus’s attention and has to hold back a gag. He slams his door shut and claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying.

 He can’t let himself stop now. If he stops he’ll fall apart. He’s been numb for so long he wants to stay numb, can’t start feeling it again or—or—

 He can’t. He just can’t. The dark sides may be accepted now but that says nothing about Virgil.

 Which is why it is so, so stupid that Janus chooses to stand next to Logan when the next session comes. Because he’s right there, so close, where Virgil can practically feel his presence prickling along his left side and he’s so glad he bit the bullet and wore the sports bra today because his wings are straining to reach for him.

 But then Remus pops up next to Roman and Virgil visibly flinches.

 He’s able to pass it off as surprise but the knowing look Janus gives him tells him Janus can see right through him.

 He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He shouldn’t. He left the dark side ages ago, he shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—

 He shouldn’t be aching for them. For all of them. His wings shouldn’t be bristling and yearning and his back shouldn’t feel like it’s splitting in two right now.

 His mind shouldn’t be filled with thoughts of the soft touches they would give him as the helped groom his wings, the gentle jabs and playful barbs tossed back and forth as they supported each other.

 He shouldn’t feel so cold.

 The debate is already going, Logan and Patton tossing things back and forth, Roman and Remus doing the same. Janus adds a comment here and there, Thomas frantically trying to keep track of all of them. It’s far too easy for Virgil to withdraw, sink into his head, focus on keeping his wings in, make them stop, ignore the ache.

 Someone shouts right next to his ear and without thinking, Virgil reaches out and grabs Janus’s cloak.

 He freezes.

  Fuck fuck fuck he fucked up he fucked up—

 Why the fuck had he done that? Was it just because he was scared? He’s Anxiety, he’s always scared, why had this made him do something he hadn’t done since he was tiny?

 He’s not some frightened child anymore, tugging on his parent’s clothes to beg for scraps of comfort. Is this what he fucking wants, to be coddled, told pretty lies about how everything was fine?

 Too late, he realizes he’s still holding on and tries to let go quickly enough that no one will notice.

 It only partially works.

 The others are too busy scolding Remus—who just looks very pleased with himself—to notice. Except for Janus.

 Of fucking course Janus notices.

 Virgil shoves his traitorous hands into his pockets. He hunches his back, not caring that it makes his wings strain against the fabric of his hoodie. The only one who could see them right now is Janus and Virgil’s already dug his grave there, hasn’t he?

 He just wants this to be over so he can go and Janus will stop looking at him.

 The video ends and he can’t be the first one to sink out of the common area, that will draw attention, he can’t draw any more attention, but the longer he stays then someone will ask him something and he doesn’t want to—

 Oh.

 He blinks. Is…is the room empty? Oh. He can sink out now.

 …or he could stay here.

The others tend to go cool off in their rooms after heated videos, just until they can all come out and make nice again. Virgil…Virgil has the common room to himself.

 “Virgil?”

  Fuck.

 “…hey, Janus.”

 “Hello,” Janus says softly, and no, no, no, don’t do that.

 Janus is being kind and it’s so hard for Virgil to just stand here and not let his wings rip out of the hoodie. He didn’t sink out, he stayed, of course he fucking stayed, Virgil tugged on his cape like a little kid—

 Virgil curses under his breath, collapsing to sit on the steps. He ignores Janus’s soft noise of concern and balls his hands up, beating out an erratic rhythm on his legs. His back hurts. His shoulders hurt. His wings hurt. Now his legs hurt. Now his hands hurt.

 Something grabs his hands and pulls them over his head. The searing pain tears a cry out of his throat.

 “Shh, shh—“ Janus, it’s Janus— “none of that now, sweetie.”

 “Let me go.” It’s meant to come out as a snarl but instead, here Virgil is, whimpering at Janus’s feet.

 “Will you keep hurting yourself if I let you go?”

 No, Virgil wants to lie, yes, he wants to say just to spite him, what comes out of his mouth is neither of these.

 “You’re hurting me,” he pants, “you’re—it hurts.”

 Janus is silent above him, still holding his arms firmly above his head. Virgil chokes back a sob in the agonizingly painful position, barely suppressing his cries enough to still his shoulders which of course did nothing to alleviate the pain. Then another hand—right, he has six—touches gently beneath his chin, guiding his head up.

 Virgil meets such an open expression of concern that tears spring to the corners of his eyes. He looks away immediately, only for Janus to crouch in front of him. He keeps a hold of Virgil’s hands but the release in his shoulders is enough to make him gasp.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls, “sweetie, look at me.”

 “No.”

 “Virgil, I need you to look at me.”

 Gritting his teeth, Virgil looks up at Janus. Janus squeezes his hands once.

 “When was the last time you had your wings groomed?”

 Virgil’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

 “Y-yesterday.”

 “Did you do it yourself?”

 “…yeah.”

 “When was the last time someone else helped you groom them properly?”

 Virgil swallows heavily and doesn’t say anything.

 “…oh, sweetie, have you not had anyone help you groom them since…?”

 Janus doesn’t even have to finish his sentence before Virgil’s nodding, the shameful secret finally spilling out. It’s Janus, he rationalizes, he knows how to keep a secret, right?

 “Why haven’t you told them,” Janus murmurs, his voice broken, “why, sweetie?”

 “Because telling people things is always so easy,” Virgil snarls.

 Janus accepts it with a slow nod, reaching out to cup Virgil’s cheek. On instinct, Virgil jerks back, unable to get away from the touch because of the grip on his hands. Janus’s eyes widen.

 “…oh, sweetie…”

 “Don’t tell them,” Virgil blurts out, “please don’t tell them.”

 “You’ve been hurting yourself, Virgil,” Janus whispers, “so badly, I can’t let that continue.”

 “I’ll—I’ll fix it, I can fix it—“

 “You know you can’t do this by yourself, honey.”

 “I have to,” Virgil cries out finally, “I have to, I can’t—I messed up, I messed everything up, I have to do it alone now, I have to—“

 “What did you mess up, sweetie?”

 “You a-and Remus and I can’t—I can’t ask you ‘cause I messed it up so bad—“

 “Shh, shh,” Janus soothes instantly, reaching out with another pair of hands to cup Virgil’s face properly, “you haven’t lost me, sweetie, you haven’t messed anything up so badly. You know you can come to me for help, you can always come here.”

 “But you’re—“

 “What, sweetie,” Janus prompts when Virgil cuts himself off, “what am I?”

 Nope. Because Virgil can’t even use the dark side excuse anymore because now the dark sides are accepted. He has no fucking excuse. He has no justification for why he’s doing this. He’s—he’s—

 He’s hurting himself.

 “It hurts,” he whispers instead, “m-make it stop.”

 “Do you have enough energy to sink out, sweetie?” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay. I need you to stand up for me, honey.”

 Getting to his feet is a slow process, Janus murmuring encouragement as they go. He sets Virgil’s hands gently against the stair railing and whispers that he’ll be right back, he just has to grab some things, wait here, please? Virgil lets him go and clutches the railing for dear life, trying to keep the waves of nausea inside thank you very much.

 “What do you mean, you haven’t seen him?”

 “I knocked on his door, he didn’t answer.”

 “So?”

 “So I…tried the knob.”

 “Roman!”

 “I know, I know, I’m not supposed to, but I was worried and he isn’t in there, so—“

 “Wait, he’s not in his room?”

 “No! That’s the problem!”

 “Well then where is he?”

 “I don’t know, that’s why I came to find you two!”

 “Wait…Virgil?”

  No, no, no—

 “Stormcloud,” Roman breathes from the top of the stairs, racing down, “there you are, we’ve been looking for you!”

 “What’re you doing down here, kiddo,” Patton asks worriedly, “are you…you don’t look so good.”

 Logan hustles around the end of the stairs to face him and no, no, Virgil doesn’t want this, not now—

 “Virgil,” Logan calls softly and he sounds so much like he cares— “Virgil, are you having trouble standing?”

 Virgil nods jerkily.

 “Let’s have you sit down, then,” he continues gently, trying to cover up the shake in his voice.

 When he doesn’t move, Roman can’t help himself. He walks forward, his arms opening to hover around Virgil’s waist.

 “Can I carry you, Stormcloud,” he asks, “just to the couch?”

 What does he do? He can’t say no, not when they look so worried. They just keep asking questions, they’ll just—but Janus asked him to wait for him, but standing is so hard and they all look so worried—

 He nods again.

 Logan carefully places his hands around Roman’s neck as Roman scoops him into a princess carry, heading for the couch. He sits down in the middle, holding Virgil as securely as he can, looking up when Logan crouches in front of them, nervously adjusting his tie. Patton sits on his side, pulling Virgil’s legs into his lap.

 “What do we do?” Roman whispers. “I don’t—what do you need, Stormcloud?”

 Logan nods encouragingly, still looking at Virgil with his brows drawn until realization dawns on his face.

 “Virgil,” he says as he gets up to sit beside Roman, resting his hands on Virgil’s shoulders to encourage him to lean against him, “are you…is your ‘everything machine’ breaking?”

 Oh.

 Yeah, that’s what’s happening.

 It’s Roman’s turn to have the ‘aha’ moment when he nods, taking one of Virgil’s hands and tenderly pressing a kiss to it. Logan keeps a steady, grounding pressure on his sides as Roman carefully lies him on the couch, going to the kitchen.

 “Can you sit up? It’s perfectly alright if you can’t,” Logan assures quickly, “but it might be easier to drink something if you are upright.”

 Virgil nods.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “we’ll go slowly, alright? If you feel dizzy or light-headed at any point, squeeze my hand and you can lie back down.”

 As promised, by the time they’re fully sitting up, Logan’s hand still on his shoulder, Roman’s breezed back in with a tissue box, a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, and a mini french loaf on a tray, set it all down on the coffee table, pulled the table close enough where he can perch on the edge, and reached out to take his hand again. Patton rubs encouraging circles into his knee, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

 Virgil can’t move. He doesn’t know what to do. He—they feel so warm, they keep touching him so gently, it—his wings are straining.

 He whimpers when Logan’s hand lands on his back and Logan moves away immediately. The loss of contact has him itching to reach out but he can’t can’t can’t—

 “Well.”

  Janus.

 Virgil blinks, and sure enough, there he is, standing with his hands clasped out of sight. Distantly, Virgil thanks that he’s still trying to keep Virgil’s secret, hiding whatever he has behind his back. He makes eye contact with Virgil and asks a silent question.

 Virgil can’t respond.

 “Janus,” Patton says, “do you—do you know what’s going on?”

 “Can we help,” Roman blurts, “with whatever it is?”

 Logan stays silent, gaze going back and forth between Virgil and Janus. Janus doesn’t take his eyes off Virgil.

 He’s waiting, Virgil realizes, to see if I’m going to let them help.

 …he doesn’t really have a reason not to anymore, does he?

 Logan leans closer, his lips barely brushing Virgil’s temple.

 “Please,” he whispers, “please, dearheart, let us help care for you.”

 Oh.

 Oh, fuck.

 “…help.”

 It’s loud enough for Janus to hear and he nods sharply, sitting down on the floor and holding out his arms. “You’re going to need to pass him to me. Be careful of his back.”

 It takes the other three to get him tucked up against Janus’s chest before they shuffle back, wary. Janus wraps his lowest pair of arms around Virgil’s hips, holding him close.

 “You just focus on me, sweetie,” he whispers, much too quiet for the others to hear, “and if you want them gone, you say so, okay?”

 “R-Remus?”

 “Remus is coming, sweetie, he found me looking for your things.”

 “You kept them?”

 “Of course we kept them.” Janus rests their foreheads together. “Of course we did.”

 Janus holds him close, whispers a few more soft words, until Virgil nods and lets him unzip his hoodie.

 “How, sweetie?”

 “…sports bra.”

 He can hear Janus swallow a noise of protest before he nods. “I’m going to have to cut them off, it’s going to hurt too much if we try and pry it off you.”

 “But—“

 “Sweetie,” Janus hushes, “you’re losing circulation, it’s not good for you.”

 Virgil shudders. “…does that mean you have to cut off m-my shirt too?”

 “Do you think you can hold your arms up long enough to get it off?”

 “…no.”

 Janus holds him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie, I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

 Against his better judgment, Virgil turns and tucks his head into the crook of Janus’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. “…always are.”

 “I’m going to need the others to help me, help you, okay?” When Virgil nods, he can feel Janus look at the others, can feel the way his face changes.

 “Roman.”

 “Yes, I’m here.”

 “I need you to get Virgil’s hoodie off.”

 “O-okay,” Roman says, and Virgil can hear him shuffle up behind them, “is it already unzipped?”

 “It is.”

 “Here we go, Stormcloud,” Roman says softly, sliding the battered old thing from Virgil’s shoulders like it’s some fine silk garment, “you’re doing great…there. Where should I—“

 “On the couch.”

 There are a few more rustlings and then Janus’s mouth appears by Virgil’s ear again.

 “I’m going to cut them off now. You just hold still for me, alright?” Virgil nods and Janus squeezes him around the waist. “Good.”

 He turns his attention to the others. “Virgil has decided to trust you with this. I have decided to trust you with this. Betray that trust and you will not like the consequences. Am I clear?”

 Murmured assurances. Then the soft rip, rip, riiiiiip of fabric, and the pressure on his wings releases.

 Virgil’s sure Janus is talking from the vibration of his throat and he’s also sure the others are saying something back, but he can’t hear anything right now over the rush of blood in his ears from his wings unfurling, creaking, in all their ugly, dirty glory.

 He winces, tries to stretch them, only to hear a cry of dismay from over his shoulder and an ‘oh, sweetie,’ from Janus. The tendon snaps back out of place and his wings slump.

 “Virgil,” Janus says next to his ear, “Virgil, Remus is here now. Do you think you can explain what we need to do or would you like us to?”

 Virgil should explain. It’s his problem. It’s his responsibility.

 But…but it would be nice to not have to…for once. To…to let them take care of him.

 “…c-can you?”

 “We can.”

 He feels another warm hand on his bare side and Remus’s voice in his ear.

 “Hey,” Remus says, “you really are a mess right now, huh?”

 Coming at any other time, it would be an insult. But right now, laced with concern, Remus’s statement sends a rush of warmth down Virgil’s spine.

 “We need to get the tendon reset first,” Remus says. Someone shuffles over to join him. “You know what you’re doing?”

 “I think so.” Oh. It’s Logan. Logan knows what he’s doing. Good, good. “Hold still for us, dearheart.”

 “Ah!”

 “Sorry, sorry,” Logan stammers, “but we’ve got it now.”

 “You’re gonna be sore for a bit, little monster,” Remus says, “but Logan’s right. You’re all reset now. You wanna stretch it out? Carefully?”

 Virgil does, tentatively extending his wing and it—it feels better. Well, it feels bruised and sore and achy—but it feels better.

 “It…it’s back,” Virgil says in a strangled whisper, “it’s back.”

 “Yes, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “now let’s get you cleaned up.”

 Virgil drifts. In and out. He hears Remus explain how to straighten his feathers, feels two strong steady hands carding through them, Looks up to see Roman, expression more focused than he’s ever seen, sees that expression melt when he catches Virgil’s eyes. Plucks a loose feather out and lays it in a growing pile.

 Feels two more on his other side and looks around to see Patton doing the same, running his fingers through the primaries, secondaries, up to the covets, and through the scapulars. Feels his fingers linger just where the tips of the feathers brush Virgil’s bare back, stroking reassuring rhythms where he lands.

 Janus still has two of his arms holding Virgil in his lap. With Virgil’s nod, he slowly raises Virgil’s arms above his head again, letting the others have access to the rest of his wings. With his last two hands, he starts smoothing the bottom of his wings, lingering in the spots where Virgil winces, gently tugging and adjusting until everything’s just right.

 A flash of movement and he sees Remus over Janus’s shoulder, grabbing a spray bottle and two hairbrushes. He ruffles Virgil’s hair as he goes back around, warning him before he starts gently spraying Virgil’s wings, passing the hairbrushes to Roman and Patton with the instructions to try and get as much of the gunk out as possible.

 “You,” Roman murmurs as he works, “are magnificent, Virgil, just look at you.”

 “Don’t,” Virgil manages, “please don’t tease.”

 “I’m not teasing,” Roman promises, brushing a part of his wing that sends a shudder down his spine, “you’re…you’re—these are spectacular, Virgil, truly.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…ugly.”

 “What?”

 “…they’re ugly.”

 “Of course they’re not, what do you…” Roman turns to him. “Stormcloud, who told you that?”

 “…me.”

 “Falsehood,” comes Logan’s voice from directly behind him, “your wings are indeed quite splendid.”

 “Because they’re interesting?”

 “Because they are a part of you,” Logan corrects softly, “and yes, because they are interesting.”

 “We love you, kiddo.” Patton reaches up to squeeze his hand. “That means all of you, even your wings.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to respond when hands slip through his feathers and every breath is stolen from his body.

 “Here,” Logan says softly, “are they here?”

 “Yep. Feel around in there a little, you should find the—“

 “Here.”

 Two thumbs swipe over the glands and Virgil shudders, right down to the tips of his wings. Logan pauses, leaning forward and doing it again. Virgil shudders harder, warmth shooting through his body, so warm, so warm. Then Logan’s hands start spreading the oil through his feathers and Virgil can’t.

 “Shh,” Janus soothes, holding him tightly, “shh, I know, sweetie, just hold on…you’re doing so well.”

 “Be gentle, Logan,” Roman orders, his gaze fixed on Virgil’s face.

 “I am.” Logan does it again and Virgil gasps. “This area is simply…sensitive.”

 Virgil swallows. “…haven’t…haven’t been able to…to…”

 “You have not been able to reach these areas yourself,” Logan finishes when Virgil can’t make words happen anymore, “and so the sensation is heightened by the newness of it.”

 “Y-yeah.”

 Then Roman’s hand brushes over his alula and he whimpers.

 “S-sorry.”

 “Would I be mistaken in saying this is quite…an intimate action?” Virgil shakes his head at Logan’s question. “Then you do not need to apologize. Trusting others with this level of intimacy is difficult, and you are doing very well.”

 “You are, kiddo,” Patton adds when Virgil makes a noise of protest, “and you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. It’s okay that you’re sensitive, it’s okay.”

 “Is this alright, Stormcloud,” Roman asks softly as he keeps brushing the feathers, “can we keep going?”

 “Mhm,” Virgil mumbles, head lolling forward, “mhm.”

 “Good.”

 As they finish removing the clearly damaged feathers, the real grooming starts. Roman and Patton start gently tugging here and there to pull out loose and broken feathers, pushing the ones that are just slightly crooked back into place. The hairbrushes, with nice wooden spokes, split the feathers easily without a snag as Logan carefully works the oil throughout. Remus slips down, carefully spreading the oil over Virgil’s back, kneading out the tension from his sore muscles. Janus holds him steady, murmuring softly.

 Virgil floats, punch-drunk on the fuzzy feeling from Logan’s hands, Patton’s hands, Roman’s hands, Remus’s hands, Janus’s hands. It’s so warm, so warm, as he feels the lingering strings of hurt and tension slowly and persistently untangled from his wings.

 “I think that’s everything,” comes Logan’s soft voice an uncertain amount of time later, and yet none of the hands move away.

 “You’re so pretty, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, running his hands through the feathers, “so, so pretty.”

 “Guess you really did dig the purple, huh?” Remus gives Virgil’s hair a ruffle. “I think these are the best these have looked in a while.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…yeah, well…”

 Janus shushes him. “It doesn’t matter, now, sweetie. It’s okay.”

 “You were hesitant because being vulnerable is hard,” Logan adds, still stroking up and down the joint of his wings, “that isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to reply when Logan’s fingers skitter over the spot right under the joint and he cries out.

 “…Virgil?”

 Logan raises an eyebrow when Virgil simply shudders, his back arching. Slowly, he does it again, smiling when Virgil all but purrs.

 “I think he likes that,” Patton says quietly, “don’t you, kiddo?”

 Virgil whines.

 “Where else are you sensitive,” Roman murmurs, scritching his fingers lightly along the top of Virgil’s wing, “where else, Stormcloud?”

 “I don’t think he’s got command of words right now,” Remus chuckles.

 “If Virgil’s wings are anatomically similar to bird wings,” Logan murmurs, “then…”

 Roman’s hand is tangled in his alula. Patton’s hands are rubbing at the crook of his wings. Logan’s thumbs stroke over the oil glands again.

 Virgil’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

 Remus’s thumbs suddenly dig into the space between his shoulder blades, startling a short moan out of him. He hears a chuckle from over his shoulder.

 “Does that feel good, dearheart,” Logan murmurs, his nails scraping lightly over the soft skin where Virgil’s wings met his back, “right there?”

 Virgil’s only response is a long, low, drawn-out sound that would have been mortifying had he any control over his brain right now.

 “Oh, wow,” Patton mumbles from the side.

 Roman reaches up and wiggles his fingers next to Logan’s and Virgil keens.

 Janus chuckles, lowering Virgil’s arms around his neck and reaching out to scritch lightly at the marginal covets. “You’re about to get spoiled, sweetie,” he murmurs, “you just hang on, hmm?”

 Virgil wraps his arms around Janus and holds on for dear life just as fingers wiggle into his axillaries and he freezes.

 Then he melts, right into Janus, right into the hands in his wings, the sound physically being ripped out of his chest.

 Lips brush the side of his neck like the owner couldn’t stop themselves. The hand on his right twitches violently. From his left comes a long, shuddering breath.

 “Oh, Stormcloud—“ Roman, that’s Roman— “you best believe we’re going to spoil you all the time.”

 Just like that, everything multiplies. Pats, strokes, kneads, scritches, ruffles, so many so many so many gentle, adoring touches and soft voices in his ears and Virgil flies.

General Taglist: 

@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @marshmallow-fluffy @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @such-a-dumbass

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist please let me know!