#at least that is the one (1) silver lining in this situation

[tsuy4n]

The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, still chaotic, teasing but that's just another word for verbal bullying, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically)

[A/n]: Okay, so apparently my calculations were off (nothing new to me) with how things are going and how much fun I'm writing the boys + [Y/n], this will become a short series!

Part 1, >Part 2<

Day 3: Five Failures, Zero Progress

You're on your way to work, absolutely dreading what lies ahead. Not the chores, not the endless hours of running errands, but them: The five walking demonic migraines with unholy cheekbones.

They were chaotic yesterday. All sharp grins and cryptic words, eyes gleaming like they knew something you didn’t.

What changed? You didn’t do anything. That, you're sure of. So why the hell are they suddenly breathing down your neck like you owe them your soul? (Which, considering who they are, might actually be on the table.)

Are they acting like this because you saw something you shouldn't have?

Like that concept. Was it supposed to be a secret? They didn’t react like you expected. No panic. No anger. Then again, you didn’t exactly study their expressions too hard. Priorities.

Still, the sight’s fresh in your mind. The holograms. The glowing golden eyes. That haunting yet stunning transformation. Whoever came up with that deserves a raise. You want those contacts. Seriously.

Focus. So what exactly did you do to earn their torment?

...Maybe their whole demon concept isn’t even a concept. Maybe it’s just them being themselves. It wouldn’t surprise you if they casually peeled off their skin one day and revealed horns underneath.

You’d arm yourself with holy water and crosses. Even if it doesn't work, at least you tried.

You sigh. The regular chaos of your job is already exhausting. You didn’t sign up to be personally targeted by five beautiful men with bad attitudes and possible hellspawn origins.

Still, you can’t deny the silver lining. Your last three chapters? A hit with your readers/audience.

With the extra income, rent is looking less like a nightmare and more like a minor inconvenience. You might even treat yourself to a pastry.

So, the plan for today is simple: Avoid them at all costs. Have another staff member deliver their water and lunch. Easy. Professional. Peaceful.

Elsewhere…

"She could be with Huntrix." Jinu mutters, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Or maybe she’s just weird." Baby says with a raised brow before flopping lazily into a chair. He's so convinced that you are.

Abby crosses his arms. "Or she’s spying for someone else. A lone agent." (He’s been watching too many shows)

Romance taps his chin thoughtfully. "Or a real artist, like she says. She does draw well for a spy."

Mystery, from where he’s crouched on the couch upside down, simply says, "What if she just takes her job seriously?"

The silence that follows is long. Suspiciously long.

Jinu sighs. "I'm sure you've all memorized the choreography enough. Let's take turns watching her and while you're at it, try to get that book. That'll help us clear this whole situation up."

At first, the boys think he’s giving them a free day. A chance to sleep. Eat. Breathe without glitter(?)

But he just kept speaking.

"So who wants to go first?" Jinu smiles, his teeth showing.

They groan in unison.

Instead of practicing, they spent the entire morning arguing over who goes first, then next, and all the way to the last. They eye each other like enemies before throwing down their hands in a dramatic round of rock, paper, scissors.

Mystery wins by default because he doesn’t even participate and somehow still gets the slot he wanted. Classic.

By lunch, they’ve just finalized the schedule when the rehearsal room door swings open.

"Hello! Here’s your lunch." A voice calls cheerfully causing for heads to whip toward the unfamiliar staff member.

"Where’s the other noona? The one who’s been bringing our food these last two days?" Baby asks politely all while flashing a disarming smile.

The staff member nearly swoons. "She asked me to take over today. Said she had errands."

Suspicious. They all thought.

Suspicious enough that the unlucky member with the first shift, Romance, rises like a man sentenced.

It doesn’t take Romance long to find you. A few smooth questions to the right people and a tilt of his smile does the trick.

He spots you sweeping the floor backstage, earbuds in, completely immersed in your own world, just vibing and enjoying your well-deserved peace not knowing it'll be disturbed within a minute.

Romance watches for a beat. Then two. There’s something about your concentration that makes him pause but it was only for a moment.

He approaches, hands in his pockets, leaning slightly with a soft, teasing smile. "Need help with that, darling? Or should I stand here and give you moral support while you sweep?"

You don't notice him at first, too focused or immersed and he noticed that because he took one of your earbuds off.

You thought at first it was a fellow staff member or maybe the manager but what you saw immediately made you scowl.

Really? It hasn't even been an hour!

Romance laughed at the expression you gave him, though he was clearly confused as to why you weren’t already swooning at his smile.

You snatched your earbud from his hand, brows furrowed. "You can help by not shedding glitter everywhere. That’d save me a lot of time."

He chuckled under his breath, undeterred. "Feisty. I like that."

You glanced at him, eyes narrowing like you were debating whether to smack that annoyingly symmetrical face with a broom.

Okay, maybe not the face. It was too reference-coded. But still. You’d aim for the shoulder.

"If you’re not gonna help, move. I’m on a schedule." You glared at him. Stupid pretty boys.

"So serious." He mused, but stepped aside anyway... only to linger. Watching. Following. Breathing near you like some sparkly parasite.

At one point, you dropped the broom to pick up a fallen costume prop: a foam trident.

You didn’t even look at him, too wrapped in your own world as you twirled it absentmindedly like some battle-hardened warrior preparing to train.

Romance watches, both amused and... vaguely alarmed. That twirl was a little too natural that he forgot about getting something.

When he felt like he's been following her for hours, he returned to the others and he doesn’t even flinch when Abby asks, "So? How'd it go?"

"I couldn't get it." Romance's answer made them sigh. They did honestly think it’ll only take him to get that book (sketchbook).

He didn't tell them about forgetting the original agenda, only that, "She was practicing how she’ll strike us. With a trident."

"What?!" Jinu chokes on his drink as he immediately thought, What kind of a human owns a trident? What the hell are you.

"What kind of trident?" Mystery asks calmly with a little tilt of his head.

"Foam." Romance replied so seriously. "She spun it like she meant business. And also called me a walking arts-and-crafts hazard."

They exchanged glances. Why didn't he choose to say the 'foam' part first? And what was that him being a walking arts thing...?

Failure #1

Baby’s turn begins with him stuffing his pockets with snacks. If he was going to tail someone, he might as well do it on a full stomach.

He finds you in one of the dressing rooms, sorting wigs and costume pieces into bins. It's boring work, but you're doing it with focus, just enough for Baby to slip into the room quietly.

Too quietly.

He slinks around, crouched low like some stealth agent, until he accidentally knocks over a mannequin arm. It hits the floor with a loud clack.

You jump. So does he.

Your eyes narrow instantly when you see him. "Why are you crouching like that?"

Baby straightens up and shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Stretching. Back pain. Old injury."

You look him up and down, unconvinced because you should be the one saying that. He's acting like it wasn't just yesterday that he was messing with you by littering all the things you just cleaned up, like some fucking cat.

"Huh, this box? Woops! I’m so sorry, noona." That’s exactly what he’d say, eyes wide and fake-innocent, like some baby deer with unresolved mischief issues.

And every time he said it, it made your skin crawl.

Not because of the word itself. No, you could handle "noona." You weren’t even that much older.

Actually, you were pretty sure you were the same age as him, maybe even younger than some of the others. But Baby said it with that tone.

That smug, cheeky little lilt that made it feel less like respect and more like a personal attack.

You did find him cute. Objectively.

But his whole existence had the chaotic energy of someone who knew he was cute and used it for evil.

And unfortunately for him, charm loses its effectiveness when paired with the urge to throw him out a window.

And here he is, grinning mischievously. "You know, your work ethic is really inspiring. Sorting wigs with that kind of passion? Sexy."

You squint at him like you're debating whether to hit him with the mannequin arm or the whole stand. That sounds so good, so self-healing after what you went through.

You felt like an old woman trying to crack her back when walking.

You let out a sigh through your nose before continuing on with doing your task while Baby walks closer.

You glance at him. "You remind me of my friend’s cat. Always knocking things over and demanding attention." 

Before he can respond, you pat his head, scratch gently under his chin, and walk past him like he’s just another prop to fix the mannequin's arm back in.

He’s frozen. Processing.

A full minute later, he’s still standing there, blinking and you're already done with the tasks here in the room.

"I’m not wasting precious brain cells on a live-action reminder that pretty doesn’t mean functional." You raise a brow at him while picking up a box. "Unlike you all, who have so much free time to pester me, I'm busy doing my actual job."

Baby finally snapped out of it when he saw you step out though before taking your leave completely, he heard you speak again in a demanding tone like you were a parent warning its 7 year old naughty kid.

"Go back to your little posse, alley cat." You said, eyes half-lidded as you smirked. "Don’t you have hair to flip and raccoons to fight behind a 7-Eleven?"

Back at the room, Baby slumps onto the couch with a huff. What happened repeated in his head like a player.

"She called me a cat. Not in a hot, aloof way, but a stray." He then adds, "Like the kind that gets into turf wars with raccoons behind a 7-Eleven.”

That was what all he reported to the others earning funny stares, plus a disappointed but intrigued Jinu.

Like Romance, he didn’t even get to ask about the damn book. He didn't actually had any chance to use half of his charms because one moment you're being playful then next you're roasting him like a bunch of coffee beans.

He may have forgot his original goal, at least he now has something new and that is swearing to make you swoon just like those other simple humans.

And that he agreed with his pink haired friend, who was the 1st victim.

Failure #2

You felt being watched. No, actually you 'are' being watched but by who?

You looked around, scanning the storage room. Empty. Still. Dusty. Dim. So either someone was lurking, or this place was haunted and your will to live had just expired on the spot.

You took one cautious step toward the door.

And then, Mystery appeared from behind a shelf like a summoned spirit. Just standing there. Silent.

"Shibal—!"

You jumped so hard you slipped, tripped over a box, and crashed to the floor in a glorious symphony of clatter and cardboard.

Mystery blinked then tilted his head slightly. "You startle easily."

You coughed once, sneezed from the dust, then squinted through a half-hearted glare. "You appeared like a ghost."

No apology. Not even a hand to help you up. Just that unreadable face and deadpan tone, like he wasn’t the reason you were now covered in packing peanuts and shame.

Though, his gaze didn’t seem malicious...just mildly unsettling. You were 85% sure he was judging you from under all that hair.

You pushed yourself up with a sigh, brushing off your pants like your pride hadn’t just taken a fatal blow.

But of course he didn’t. You’d already finished cleaning up. Again. You cleaned things up a lot these days, thanks to a certain someone and his espresso-fueled vendettas.

You turned your head to glare at Mister Human Equivalent of Dead Air, who blinked slowly. Unbothered. Possibly proud.

"You’re worse than the cockroach I found in the kitchen yesterday."

He hummed, completely unfazed. "Cockroaches don’t scream."

Unbelievable.

"Do you guys have a group chat where you plan this? Like, ‘let’s go bother the new hardworking staff girl’?" Your arms were crossed, your expression demanding answers.

"Book." Was all he said in return.

You blinked. Your brain lagged like bad Wi-Fi. What book?

And is that really all he had to say after standing there for a solid thirty minutes in monk-level silence?

"The one you always have your nose in." He added after a beat, still blank-faced. At least that's what you feel.

"...Is this whole bothering-me thing about that?"

He nodded once. You call bullshit—but also, maybe there’s hope?

"You mean my sketchbook?"

Another nod. You stared at him. Did this guy have a word quota? Was he conserving syllables for his vocal lines?

"If I gave you that, would all of you stop pestering me?"

He didn’t answer. At least not immediately. Just stood there, matching your stare, the silence stretching between you like a rope ready to snap.

You sighed, then gave him a smile. And for one brief, shimmering second, Mystery thought he’d won. Maybe you liked him best.

Maybe you had a thing for the quiet ones—the cryptic, brooding types who linger like ghost drafts in haunted castles.

Jinu did say people had different tastes in idols. Like food—

"No."

...Or not.

Silence dropped again, thick as concrete, before you squinted and spoke.

"What makes you think I’d entrust something of mine to you, or any of you?" you asked. "If you’re all worried I’m drawing you in ‘suspicious’ ways, don’t flatter yourselves. You’re just references."

You stomped past him with all the grace of a woman wronged, then spun back on your heel.

"Actually, scratch that. You should be worried." You jabbed a finger in his direction. "I will draw all of you in suspicious ways. And when you debut? I’ll post it."

You narrowed your eyes. As always, it was impossible to tell what Mystery was thinking, but that didn’t matter. You were confident.

You were an artist. You had the power to draw this stupid boyband making out with each other in watercolor and full shading without feeling an ounce of shame.

They, however, would never recover.

"You better think twice about bothering me now! Tell them that." Then you ran, like a child who knew they’d just poked a beehive and needed to disappear before the stingers caught up.

Back with the group, Mystery returned and stood in front of the others.

"So?" Jinu asked, arms crossed. Behind him, Romance and Baby leaned in, already bracing themselves. Whatever you’d said must’ve rewired something.

Maybe broke a few brain cells on the way out.

"She organizes her materials very efficiently." Mystery said, nodding like he was delivering critical intel to a war council.

Romance blinked. "That’s what you got?"

Baby, now sprawled across the couch with a juice box, snorted. "Told you."

Jinu pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you at least get the sketchbook?"

Mystery shook his head.

Of course not.

Jinu sighed. At this point, he wasn’t sure if they were failing—or if you were simply immune to all known forms of charm, charisma, and supernatural bullshit.

Romance muttered something about foam weapons. Baby muttered something about alley cats.

And somewhere in the room, a collective ego quietly combusted.

Failure #3.

You volunteered to run an errand. A simple supply run. A chance to breathe.

Sure, you had your suspicions that the boys were taking turns tailing you. Mystery had confirmed it earlier with a thirty-minute silent staring contest that ended in zero answers.

Romance tried to flirt like he’d read one too many bad webtoons. Baby? You mistook him for a stray cat and nearly offered him tuna.

So today? You were ready. You had an escape. Or so you thought...

You regretted everything the second you stepped outside. Why? Because the universe sent you Abby.

Of course, it had to be him. The walking thirst trap of the group.

The one with annoyingly perfect hair, annoying abs, and the kind of face that probably got sculpted by the devil himself on a good day. Because of course.

He was walking beside you like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t single-handedly making people turn their heads from left to right.

And don’t even get started on his stupid shirt. Why the hell is it riding up every few minutes?

Is the universe trying to humble you?

Is nature in on this too? That one breeze that made his shirt lift just enough to show off those abs? It wasn’t a coincidence. That was a divine betrayal.

And of course, he saw you staring. He smirked.

"I saw that." He says, voice low and smug. "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

You groan. "I was looking at the crime against fashion you’re wearing."

He places a hand dramatically on his chest. "You wound me."

You roll your eyes so hard it nearly gives you vertigo. Still, this… wasn’t the worst. At least they weren’t swarming you like yesterday. With them taking turns now, it was more manageable.

"You know," Abby starts, hands behind his head as you walk down the street together, "I think I should be the one to keep you company more often. You seem calmer with me. Maybe even a little... interested."

You stop walking and give him the most deadpan look you can muster. "I was calm because I thought I was alone."

Ouch

But Abby, as always, doesn’t take the loss. He leans closer, lowering his sunglasses with a grin. "Come on, just give me the sketchbook. You like me the most, right?"

You tilt your head and pretend to consider it. "Let’s see..."

Then you dramatically slap a hand over your heart.

"Oh no." You gasp sarcastically. "My deepest secret! How did you know I fall for guys who flex their abs at me like it’s still 2012 Tumblr?"

That gets a crack in his confident grin. Inside, he's genuinely confused. What does that mean??

You pat his arm like you're speaking to someone tragically misguided. "Listen, I’ve drawn more abs than I’ve touched in real life. Yours aren’t special. They’re just... reference material."

Abby chokes on nothing. "Reference material?!"

You give him a cheeky smile. "Yeah. The kind I toss into the 'basic male idol' folder."

You start walking again, casually leaving him in the dust. He stands there, looking scandalized.

Back at the dorm, he slumps into the chair dramatically, hand over his heart.

"She called me basic, and made me carry everything." He mutters, defeated and tired just like the last 2 (Baby & Romance) who returned earlier.

"So she didn’t give you the sketchbook?" Jinu asks, already knowing the answer.

Abby sighs, deeply. "I think she drew a whole new character in her mind just to insult me."

Failure #4

That leaves Jinu, their last hope of getting that sketchbook before the day ends.

"We're counting on you, lead~!" Baby teased with a grin too smug for his own good. His voice dipped into mock aegyo as he winked.

The beef he had with Jinu wasn’t subtle; something about being 'the cute one' when he’d rather be anything else.

It didn’t help that Jinu never really fought back, just smiled like he had better things to do than argue with someone who collected Hello Kitty bandaids.

You, meanwhile, were clocking out. Finally.

Work was done. The sun was down. The universe had tested your patience in every possible way. A hot bath and unconsciousness were the only plans on your mind until he showed up.

"Happy that work’s over, huh?"

You didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

"Obviously." You huffed then rolled of your eyes. "Wouldn’t you be if a bunch of demon-spawn kept finding new ways to test your will to live?"

"…Is that a general insult or something more specific?"

His question made you gave him a look like you were hinting at the obvious.

"Fair." He said with a chuckle.

He walked beside you without asking. Just far enough not to be annoying. Just close enough to be impossible to ignore.

“Wanna grab dinner?”

You blinked then gave him a side-eye. "What makes you think I’d say yes? Is this another one of your weird group rituals where someone jumps out of a trash can to scare me?"

"I said dinner, not a prank war. It’s my treat." He said, hands up in mock surrender. "No one else will be there. Consider it… an apology. For the chaos they’ve put you through."

You raised a brow. "And you’re suddenly the nice one?"

"I never said that," He replied smoothly. "But I do know when to offer compensation."

You thought about it. He hadn’t stepped in earlier, sure, but maybe he wasn’t completely awful. And free food was free food.

You were broke, your fridge was empty, and a meal you didn’t have to cook yourself was a rare form of heaven.

So you said yes.

The place he brought you to wasn’t flashy. A quiet diner tucked away from the noise. Warm lights. Old booths. You ordered too much and pretended not to care.

"You know," Jinu said mid-meal. "I kind of expected you to throw your drink in my face."

"You still might deserve it," You said between bites. "Depends how this conversation goes."

He smiled, his chin resting on his hand as he watched you. You noticed, of course. But instead of reacting, you stayed calm, indifferent, even.

As if you weren’t being quietly studied by a man who looked like he'd walked off a runway.

"You always like this?" You asked with a raised brow. "Weirdly smooth one second, annoying the next?"

He smirked at you. "It’s a learned skill. Keeps people guessing."

"You’re not that hard to figure out." You deadpanned with a slight tilt of your head. "You’re probably the most normal one out of your group. Still a menace, though."

Jinu laughed. Just the short type. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

You stared at him then replied in a monotonous voice, "It wasn’t."

He chuckled, and the conversation settled into something surprisingly... normal.

Eventually, you talked about things you didn’t usually mention to strangers—about the pressure of pretending, of being exhausted all the time and not knowing how to admit it.

About how expectations from others wear you down until all you want to do is disappear.

At some point, maybe out of tired habit or plain honesty, you even muttered something about 'your demons whispering to you late at night.' You meant it figuratively, of course.

But the way Jinu blinked once, slow and calculating made you wonder if he thought otherwise. Like you’d just triggered something serious.

He didn’t ask. Just nodded and let it go. But you caught it: the subtle shift in his gaze, that flicker of recognition. Whatever he was thinking, it didn’t feel like nothing.

Still, he listened. Not with empty nods, but like he got it. Not everything, but enough.

And... that felt nice. It's been a while since you had someone to talk to about things you can relate. Your friends were busy and when they try to invite you to hangout, you're the one who has a pack sched instead.

When you got home later that night, sketchbook still tucked away where no one would ever find it, you let yourself sink into bed and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe Jinu wasn’t so bad. Not like the rest of his chaos crew. He's become 'just alright guy' to you.

Meanwhile, Jinu returned to the place they all stayed while living in the human world—a sleek apartment tucked above the city skyline, equal parts expensive and lived-in.

The others were scattered across the living room, feigning disinterest while clearly listening.

Abby was the first to ask. "So? How’d yours go?"

Jinu kicked off his shoes and shrugged, hands in his pockets. "No sketchbook. But I think she let her guard down."

That got their attention.

"She’s easier to talk to when you’re not pushing her buttons. Maybe try not teasing her to death next time." He added, giving Romance a pointed glance though his eyes definitely slid to Abby and Baby too.

Not that any of those three looked the least bit guilty.

Baby made a dramatic noise of betrayal when he realized something, his eyes squinting. "So you’re the favorite now?"

Jinu didn’t rise to it. Just smiled, smug even.

"If we earn even a little of her trust, that book’s as good as ours."

And judging by the way he looked quietly satisfied, it was clear their leader had a plan—and maybe, just maybe, it was already working.

Failure #5 (losers)

Day 4: Pretty Privilege Denied

At the rehearsal room...

"This is such a pain." Baby groaned as he dramatically flopped backwards onto the couch like he’d just carried the entire K-pop industry on his back. "Why can’t we just take the stupid sketchbook already?"

He tossed a bag of chips across the room. It missed the trash can by a full foot. No one corrected him.

"Right?" Abby stretched his arms behind his head, flashing abs like it was part of the punctuation. "We’re wasting time doing solo missions. What if we all just... I dunno, ask at once? Overwhelm her with our combined perfection."

Romance was already nodding, a smirk playing at his lips. "Like an idol intervention."

Mystery, curled on the floor beside the couch, mumbled faintly, "She’ll resist. She always resists."

"Because you just stood there and stared at her for thirty minutes." Baby snapped with a roll of his eyes. "That’s not a plan, that’s a horror movie."

"I was being... silent but effective." Mystery defended weakly, hugging a pillow with the dead-eyed conviction of a man who hadn’t blinked in an hour.

Baby didn’t bother looking at him. He just sighed and reached for his lip tint, applying it with a kind of weary elegance that suggested everyone else in the room was the problem.

"I don’t get why you all can’t just manipulate her like normal people." Baby muttered, popping a strawberry flavored lollipop in his mouth.

Like a fucking Bond villain in silk pajamas.

He next adds, "Look adorable, be sweet, and wait. She’ll fold eventually. Humans are weak to affection and eye contact."

Romance blinked. "You think this is adorable?"

"I think this is inefficient." Baby said flatly, glancing at his nails like he was bored of everyone's incompetence. "She clearly likes attention. She breathes like someone who wants to be perceived."

Abby froze mid-sip of his fruit shake. "You said that out loud."

"Good." Baby replied, unbothered, swiping through his front camera to check his angles. "I hope the wind carries it to her. Maybe it’ll reach her ego first."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"…You scare me sometimes." Abby muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he was rethinking his life choices.

Jinu, to no one’s surprise, wasn’t in the room for this beautifully misguided planning session. He was allegedly "doing leader things," which in practice meant "ignoring all of them for his own sanity."

Which meant the rest of them were unsupervised.

Because in the next five minutes, fueled by ego, caffeine, and deep, mutual frustration, they came up with the worst idea possible:

"We’ll confront her together," Romance declared, sparkles practically glinting in his eyes. Mischief, too.

"Like a sketchbook heist?" Abby grinned. They high-fived, because of course they did.

"No," Baby corrected, sitting upright like a cat that’d just heard a can opener. "Like a coordinated idol strike."

Mystery nodded solemnly. "A synchronized emotional ambush."

"…That’s literally just stalking in unison." Someone muttered upon realization but no one listened. Not that it even mattered to beings like them.

And with that, four immortals in idol skin decided to do what no sane being should ever attempt: gang up on one overworked staff girl who already hated their collective existence.

Because why not? What could possibly go wrong?

-

Somewhere...

Jinu had always known patience was the real game. You don’t survive four centuries being impulsive. So when his members started treating [Y/n] like a raid boss with a lootable sketchbook, he didn’t intervene.

He watched. Waited. Calculated. And then last night happened.

Dinner wasn’t supposed to go that well. He figured she’d make it halfway through the meal, throw a napkin in his face, and storm out. But she didn’t. She talked.

And somewhere between the second plate and her muttering about "demons whispering at night," something in him stilled. That wasn’t normal small talk. And it sure as hell wasn’t nothing.

She either didn’t realize what she said, or she did, and didn’t care. Either way, Jinu recognized the weight of it. The strange, dangerous truth humming just beneath her words.

So yeah. He was interested now. Not just in the sketchbook. In her.

Which is why, this morning, he changed tactics.

She’d let her guard down. That meant it was time to keep her guessing. Balance the scale. Tip it, just enough to rattle her.

Cue: pettiness mode.

She thought last night was a truce? Fine. Let her believe that. Then let her walk face-first into his brand of passive-aggressive hell. Just enough to make her question herself. Her instincts. Him.

If they were going to win this sketchbook war, she needed to be off-balance. And Jinu was going to enjoy every second of it.

So when he saw her coming down the sidewalk with coffee in hand, face still half-asleep and blessedly peaceful, he held the door open.

Then let it close. Right as she reached it. Perfect.

...

You were already tired.

Not physically—not yet. Just spiritually. Which was impressive, given the day had barely started.

But then again, surviving a full shift surrounded by glitter-dusted demon boys could rattle anyone’s soul.

Still. Today would be different. It had to be.

You saw the studio door ahead, sweet salvation in view, and picked up your pace.

And then, of course. It was him.

Jinu. Holding the door like he was doing you a favor. Like he hadn’t spent last night pretending to be a decent person.

He let it shut before you even touched the handle.

It was official. The man had a switch, and you were done trying to figure out which position it was stuck on. You stopped. Stared, then narrowed your eyes as the door clicked shut with smug finality.

Why the hell was he acting like this now?

Maybe he’d decided to be just as unbearable as his idiot members. Or maybe he realized being nice wasn’t getting him your sketchbook.

Or maybe, just maybe, he woke up and chose violence. With iced coffee.

What happened last night? Too good to be true. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Jinu turned his head, smiling like a summer villain in a drama. "Oh? I thought you weren’t coming. My bad."

Your eye twitched as you smiled politely. Violence is a choice. "You saw me walking straight here."

"I see a lot of things." He said vaguely, stepping inside and letting the door stay closed behind him.

You yanked it open with more force than necessary after tapping your id and followed him in, already regretting clocking in today. If HR asked why the break room window was shattered later, this was why.

You tried to brush it off. Keep walking. You had your sketchbook in hand, a long list of things to prep, and exactly zero energy to spare on whatever weird game he was playing now.

And then—

"Good morning, hardworking staff member," Jinu said with the fakest earnestness you’d ever heard, falling into step beside you. "Did you sleep well on your commoner bed?"

You stopped in your tracks, your mouth agape while your brain buffered.

"…What," You said slowly, letting the words drag like a system error. "What did you just say to me?"

Was flabbergasted the right word? Because honestly, that didn’t even scratch the surface. You were spiritually winded. Like you’d just been slapped with a Gucci slipper made of pure ego.

Jinu, the absolute menace, took a delicate sip of his artisanal coffee and smiled. That same saintly, beatific smile that made you want to throw a chair.

"I heard those floor mattresses are terrible for your posture."

You blinked at him. Hard. "You think I sleep on the floor?"

He raised a brow, so effortlessly smug. "Don’t you?"

Oh, okay. So this was the level of unhinged we were on today.

You stared at him, soul leaving your body one judgmental breath at a time. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with all of them? Did they audition to be idols or audition to test your will to live?

Because right now, you were genuinely convinced the universe had assigned you to a group of sleep-paralysis demons with backup dancer skills.

He stared back, calm and composed, like the human embodiment of a rice paper screen: pretty, delicate, and annoyingly hard to punch without consequences.

The silence stretched long enough for you to seriously consider hitting him with your sketchbook.

You turned and walked faster. He followed. He wasn’t done.

"You know," He said, all airy and unbothered, "I heard stress causes wrinkles. You might want to be careful."

"Great." You deadpanned. "Can I borrow your skincare then? I assume it’s made from crushed angel wings and virgin moonlight."

He laughed softly. Like you were joking. You were not.

You reached your desk, set your things down with a sigh, and frowned. Your pencil bag wasn’t where you left it.

You squinted and searched. There it was, off to the right by a few inches. You didn’t leave it like that. You were sure.

"…Did someone move my stuff?"

Behind you, Jinu shrugged with the grace of a lying cat. "Maybe the ghosts like you."

You turned slowly, narrowed your eyes. He was already walking away, sipping his cursed latte like he hadn’t just kicked your entire sense of peace in the kneecaps.

And the worst part? You knew this wasn’t even the peak of his pettiness. This was the prelude. The overture. The trailer before the disaster film.

You swore if he did this one more time, you were going to draw him as a worm in a luxury bathrobe. And that was being generous.

-

Dear god.

You tried to hide.

Not from your work, that would be irresponsible, but from the boyband plague that had decided to infest every corner of your daily life like glitter-coated cockroaches with jawlines.

Storage room? Mystery was already inside when you flicked the light on, calmly leaning against a shelf like he was part of the cleaning supplies.

You screamed and that earned a few pair of eyes from fellow staff members to see what's happened while Mystery just blinked.

Just fucking that. Like he wouldn't be the reason for you having a heart attack at such a young age.

"I was just watching the broom." He said solemnly.

Deja vu.

Toilet break? You exited the staff restroom to find Romance waiting by the door with a smile so charming it should’ve been a crime.

"Did you miss me?" He asked with a little tilt of his head. How cute. Like that was supposed to work on you.

You stared back, deadpan. "Did you follow me to the bathroom?"

"No." He said too fast. Then added, "I was just… in the area."

You folded your arms, unimpressed. "Of the women’s restroom?"

"…Geographically."

You shook your head then walked past him. He followed. Damn it.

Lunch break? You were five feet from the vending machine when Abby materialized from nowhere, leaned casually against it, and held out a protein bar.

"Hungry?" He asked with a wink.

You stared, the same dead-eyed stare you gave Romance. At this point, you were immune. Beyond exhausted. Somewhere between "please stop" and "God, just smite me."

"Are you seriously trying to flirt with trail mix?"

He grinned. Handsome bastard #3. "It’s high in fiber."

You almost growled at him like a fucking wolf. "I hate you."

Coffee break? You escaped the building. You escaped the chaos. You made it to your favorite shop. You ordered your drink, basked in a moment of peace.

You shouldn't have turned around.

"Hi." Jinu said, already holding out a matching iced Americano.

You didn’t blink. Yeah, at this point you wouldn't even be surprised if you suddenly moved countries and their striking asses are 'suddenly' there, too.

Which leads you to a thought: Are they even after your sketchbook or other things? Did they fall for you and became obsessed with you like in those webtoons?

Pfft. Yeah, right. You must've lost it there for a second.

You blankly stared at Mister royalty-wannabe. What he said about your bed being a commoner's really got to you. It looks like you weren't the only one who can burn people like toast.

Jinu watches you space out. Poor you, not that he actually cares and that smile on his stupidly handsome face was enough to tell a tale.

"I’ll trade you this premium Americano for a peek at your sketchbook." He offered smoothly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You stared him down then reached out, took the coffee from his hand, and said in a monotone voice: "Thanks."

He didn't see the smirk on your face as you walked away, simply enjoying your drink. Ah, it feels good to taste victory. An expensive one at that.

Meanwhile Jinu just stood there, betrayed.

"That was a limited roast." He muttered to which you heard as you raised the drink like a trophy.

No peace. No privacy. And definitely no sanity.

But if they thought this was going to make you fold, they were sorely mistaken.

You had pens, paper, and spite.

Let them try.

Later that day, the practice room was supposed to be empty.

Keyword: supposed.

You walked in with your sketchbook tucked under your arm and your emotional shields fully charged, only to freeze when you saw them. All of them.

Oh, god. The dread. The disgust. The divine urge to U-turn right back out the door. As much as you liked the sights of their faces, you could go one fucking day without seeing them.

There were other inspirations in the world, like sewer rats. Or tax documents.

You looked at them, judging, and they could tell. Your judgment wasn’t subtle. It had volume. Weight. A spiritual glare.

Romance on the window sill like a tragically bored novel character. Baby draped over the couch like a spoiled cat who owned the lease.

Abby standing behind the couch, peering over Baby’s shoulder and silently judging whatever cursed content he was watching.

Mystery sitting upside down in a chair like a sentient cryptid. And Jinu by the mirror, sipping coffee and watching like a smug, beautiful stage mom directing chaos.

You stared. They stared back.

"…What." You said flatly.

Baby was first to speak, tossing you his best faux-innocent smile. "We just wanted to hang out."

You squinted. "All five of you. In one room. Together. Unscheduled."

Baby was first to speak, tossing you his best faux-innocent smile. "We just wanted to hang out.”

You squinted. "All five of you. In one room. Together. With no cameras. No choreo. No staff instructions. Just… existing?"

They didn’t reply.

"Unscheduled." You repeated with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, see, that’s what’s throwing me off. You people only move in packs when someone tells you to."

"Team-building." Abby states with a charming grin. "Very healthy. Builds trust."

Romance stretched like he was auditioning for the villain role in a romance anime. "Or maybe we were hoping for a little sketchbook time."

"Denied." You answered immediately. Yeah, you saw that coming, even smelled it.

Mystery didn’t move from his bat-like perch. "I brought snacks."

You looked at him. "They’re pocket mints."

"They’re shareable."

Yep you turned toward the exit. You aren't gonna waste another energy, but Jinu stepped forward and casually leaned on the doorframe. Blocking it.

"Leaving so soon?" He said, calm and smug and, unfortunately, gorgeous. You don't know how many times you called them all those words inside your head. "We haven’t even started the icebreaker."

But of course no matter how good looking they are, they still continue to test your sanity. With that said, your eye twitched for the nth time.

"What is this, a hostage situation?" You looked him up and down, and he felt you judge him.

"That depends." Romance hummed with a grin. "Are you willing to negotiate?"

Baby pouted, still trying that method of acting cute. "We just want a peek."

"You’ve been studying us." Abby chimed in. "Seriously. We can feel it."

"We’d like to see your... interpretations." Romance added, clearly trying to sound seductive. You gave him a withering look. He faltered for half a second. "Strictly for performance critique purposes."

You let the silence stretch, then slowly opened your sketchbook... just an inch. It was cute but mostly funny on how their eyes lit up.

Then you snapped it shut.

"No." You said with a condescending smile like some typical villainess.

"Cruel." Jinu muttered with a huff.

Baby groaned dramatically, flopping back. "Why won’t you just let us see it?"

"Because it’s mine." You said, backing toward the wall. "And because I know you’ll cry."

Romance scoffed. "I don’t cry."

"You cried when your contact lens flipped inside out." Abby pointed out with a little laugh.

"Emotional trauma." Romance said with dignity. He was quick with his reply. Being on those little screens paid off.

Jinu tilted his head, still blocking the door. "This all could’ve been avoided, you know. Back when we were being nice."

You narrowed your eyes. "You smiled at me one time and then threw a door in my face."

"I smiled twice." He corrected. "That’s effort."

You sighed, dramatically and soulfully. "This is what I get for not calling in sick."

They inched closer, slowly closing in like a very attractive zombie horde.

Then you raised your sketchbook like a weapon and said, "Another step and I swear to God I’ll post the ‘Abby Cries at Pixar’ spread online."

Everyone froze.

"…You wouldn’t." Abby whispered.

"Try me." That wasn't a challenge. That was the truth. You'd do anything for this war.

Behind him, Mystery was already reaching for his phone. "I’d retweet it."

Abby narrowed his eyes at him. "You traitor."

Eventually, Jinu sighed and stepped aside. "You win this round."

You smiled and gave his shoulder a pat. "You mean all rounds."

And with that, you walked out like the final boss of their lives—sketchbook clutched tight, peace restored (for now), and your petty revenge arc stronger than ever.

Sketchbook Status: Untouched.

Artist Mood: Petty

[lunaria-maharlika]

Danny accidentally becomes the Ghost king, The president and the BIGGEST threat to Bruce's social status.

Pt 1 Danny becomes the Ghost king

"Fenton's were never allowed to have a "normal" life, we are either extremely successful or extremely unsuccessful, there is no in between. Maybe a spirit cursed us back in the days, but who knows, but one things for sure, all Fenton's will definitely make the news."

-Grandma Fenton from whatever generation

Danny's starting to believe that now. He used to think that it wasn't true, but now? He used to wish to have a normal life, be a good normal son with good grades an be an astronaut one day.

But like they said, a Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL OR EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

He was EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

Instead of a normal life he turned a half ghost teen superhero. But oh well, the Fenton's were also known for their ability to go with the flow

But how in the world did the flow get him here???

In Danny's defense, he wasn't really expecting this. The only thing in his mind at the moment was keeping his town and his people safe from pariah. He just wanted to get rid of the rotten fruitloop. He was EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL, so successful in fact that he ended up becoming Ghost king.

The fudge????

But okay, sure, he didn't wanna become king but if he also didn't want to give up the crown for others to take, what if an evil person becomes king and attacks amity again?? Fine, he'll be king, he'll figure it out. Just go with the flow.

Surprisingly, not only did he get the crown, he also got THE MONEY. as in literal gold and silver bars, coins and jewelry. Appearantly, one the kings a long long time ago, before at least two generations before pariah had an obsession with MONEY. So the king made a Permanent Royal Degree (a law that cannot be changed by any future kings) that when someone dies and becomes a ghost, 20% of the MONEY that they've acquired in their entire life. (The money turns into an equivalent of ghost currency in the realms but is still physically in the living. Kind of like how the soul is in the realms but the body is the earth. Also, the only reason money exists in the realms is for convenience and a sense of normalcy, it doesn't really have that much value unless the ghosts brings it to the living) would belong to the ghost king.

Basically, it's ghost taxes that only have to be paid once for the entire afterlife. (Or is it more of an entrance fee???)

But anyways, hes got the MONEY.

He's rich now and he thinks, "I have so much money it's disgusting"

So first things first, getting rid of some of it.

By this point, his parents know he's phantom and have changed their opinions on ghosts, instead of attacking they are now looking at ghost like they're equals and try and help them as an apology for hurting them.

They are also looking for a new project to spend time on. A new purpose

So Danny thought, why not give them the money then? Danny proposed to his mom a project to make things that can benefit both ghosts and humans.

Next thing he knows is that he's appearantly funding, building and making:

A ghost job agency

A human job agency

Ghost proof buildings (ghost can't pass through walls, it won't hurt them, just keep em out.)

Ghost proof clothes (overshadowing proof!)

A practical fashion line for ghost and humans (Bullet proof, blast proof etch. Borderline vigilante clothes that look like a civilians day to day outfit)

Homes for ghost and humans

A ghost obsession help center where they can ask humans to help with their obsession.

A school for both ghost and humans.

Liminal 101 because apparently because of the whole, pariah dark and, living in the ghosts kings haunt situation, everyone is liminal now

An entire line of technology that can be used by both ghosts and humans.

A fight arena where ghost and humans can fight for fun.

And so many other things , he can't remember

HIS NAME IS EVERYWHERE . His parents didn't even bother hiding the fact that their son somehow has enough money to fund these projects, everyone knows him now.

He ends up basically owning most of amity park.

And here he thought he wouldn't be the kind of king that expands their territory.

He was extremely UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

[drabbles-mc]

Invisible Silver Linings (1/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: i know i haven't written for Marvel in a while, but i started working on this lil series the second i left the theater on Thursday. it's so nice to see Lewis Pullman getting the creds he deserves. 🥰anyway!!!! I've finished this series and will be posting updates on a weekly or twice-weekly basis until it's all up here and good to go. please let me know what you think!

“They've been taking us in batches,” you told him. You hadn't even bothered to introduce yourself to him, but from the moment they brought him into the room with the rest of you, he'd been looking around, a little twitchy and on-edge. You supposed that you couldn't really blame him. It was a strange position that you were all finding yourselves in. Then again, you had all chosen to sign up for it.

He turned and looked at you, eyes wide and worried at the same time. “Wh-what?”

You nodded in the direction of the doors on the opposite end of the room, not the ones that he had just walked through or anyone else either. One set brought you in, another set brought you out. You had yet to see anyone come back into the room after they left, and while there were plenty of things that that could mean, you wondered if it was the worst case scenario that had crossed your mind before. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn't going to take him long to think of that worst case scenario either.

“The doctors. Scientists. Whatever you wanna call them,” you gave up on titles with a shrug, “have been taking people in batches.”

His mouth dipped into a frown as he took in what you said. He looked around the room that the two of you were in, looked at all of the other people who were in there with you. No one looked very happy to be there even though, if their situations were anything like yours, they had signed off on being here. Not that you looked ecstatic either, so maybe you shouldn't judge. You were just tired. And uncomfortable. All these people stuffed into this room and they couldn't find better seating arrangements? At least the clothes they were forcing you all to wear were comfortable, even if they weren't exactly fashionable. Sure, they kind of made you feel like you were in an asylum of some kind, but they were baggy and soft so it could’ve been worse. The new guy looked like he was close to swimming in his.

He looked around long enough to realize that most people were sitting. There were limited chairs and tables, but you clearly hadn't let that deter you as you found a pocket of space on the floor to sit on. Not quite in the corner but you were far enough off to keep an eye on most of the people in the room with you. The entry door was also close by, and while you didn't have any plans or desire to make a break for it just yet, you figured that it might end up being your best bet if it came down to it. Staring down at you, he watched as you rested your head back against the wall behind you. Your legs were bent at the knee, and your arms were draped over the top of them. Whatever it was that he saw in your facial expression must've been just safe and inviting enough for him to decide to sit down next to you.

It wasn’t a graceful descent on his part, but he didn't fall on top of you. He was closer to you than maybe a stranger should've been in a place like this, but he didn’t seem like he even noticed. He crossed his legs, hands resting in his lap as he looked back and forth between you and the room around you. Something about the way he was sitting, the look on his face, he looked a little bit like a boy stuck in a man's body. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who should be signing up for sketchy medical trials that bring you to undisclosed places.

You would've been content to sit there in silence until it was your turn to get called, but apparently you were alone in that sentiment. “I'm Bob, by the way,” he said, sounding more sure of himself than he had the first time he spoke to you.

When you turned to look him in the eye, you found him already waiting and watching, an expectant look on his face that only added to the little aura of innocence around him. You figured one good turn deserved another if the two of you were going to be stuck together for now, so you gave him your name in return. He smiled at the sound of it, giving a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

“I think you're the first person I've talked to since I got here,” you told him.

He tilted his head, brows furrowing in thought. “When did you get here?”

Looking up at the ceiling, you thought about it for a moment. Being in this strange, mostly empty room that had no windows for natural light had already messed up your sense of time even though you hadn't been there that long yet. “Day before last.”

His eyes widened again. “And they still haven't taken you?”

You chuckled. “You should've seen how many people were in here. I think that's why they're doing…whatever they're doing, in batches.”

“How are they choosing people?” he asked, looking now at the small clusters of people who were still waiting. Some people were keeping to themselves, much like you had been before Bob showed up and decided to switch things up on you.

Letting your eyes close while your head was rested back, you shook your head. “No clue. I don't work here.”

He let out a quiet laugh at that. “Right. Sorry.”

Even though you weren't looking at him, choosing instead to stare at the backs of your eyelids, you could still feel the nervous energy that was radiating off him. If he kept this up, he was going to tire himself out before he even got to the hard part. If he couldn’t handle waiting, there was no way that he was going to be cut out for whatever was waiting on the other side of the exit doors. You didn’t have any words of comfort to offer him, mostly because you had no idea what the hell was really going on yourself. Something told you, though, that it wouldn’t take very long for him to pick up another topic of conversation. Wouldn’t take long for him to start asking more questions that you wouldn’t have any answers to.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he said, “Anyone say what exactly it is that they're doing?”

You didn’t open your eyes. “Nope.”

When he spoke up again, his voice was softer, almost like he was afraid for anyone to hear what he was saying. “I hope it works.”

That got you to crack one eye open so you could give him a bit of a sideways glance. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead his stare was fixed on the hem of his pants. He'd found a loose thread and was starting to pick at it.

“What'd they tell you?” you asked.

You wondered briefly if his eyes would ever end up getting stuck wide like that. “What?”

Turning your head to face him in earnest once more, you elaborated. “What'd they tell you they were doing? What'd they offer you to do this?”

His expression dampened, and suddenly it was like he couldn’t meet your eyes. His focus shifted back to the thread. He was shaking his head, and something told you the action wasn't directed at you, but rather at himself. “They said that they could make me great. They…they could make me better.” He found it in himself to look at you, and it was then that you could see how glassy his eyes had gotten. “I really wanna be better.” He sniffed, blinking a few times to beat his tears back into submission. Giving his head and shoulders a small shake, he tried to get himself sounding normal again as he asked, “Wh-what'd they tell you?”

“Something similar.” The point of your elbows dug into the tops of your knees as you dropped your head into your hands. Raking your fingers back along your scalp, you rested with your head down for a moment before looking at Bob again. “I'm not really looking to be great. I just,” you shrugged, “it can't get much worse for me so I figured why not?”

The genuine sadness on his face shocked you. All those feelings for someone who was a complete stranger to him. “Oh. I'm sor—”

You waved him off before he could finish the apology. “Don't be. Not like any of it was your fault. Besides, we both still ended up here regardless,” you made a brief gesture to the room, “so what the fuck does it really matter?”

There was a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered your words. “Right.” Quiet filled the space between you again. You could only try to venture a guess at what Bob was thinking about. Probably everything that led him here—that's what you'd spent most of your time thinking about, anyway. Wondering if this was the right choice or not, not that there were many other choices at your disposal anyway. No use in regretting it. You were here in your pajama uniform with Bob and dozens of other people whose names you hadn't bothered to try and learn. This was what you had now. There was nothing more to it than that.

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[pikachu78109]

General Team Rainbow Rocket Headcanons

((I’ve been listening to some Team RR boss themes out of nostalgia and I have never written anything about the Pokémon villains (specifically Generation 1-6 respectively) and I figured I would shower my thoughts on these dudes))

Giovanni

Gonna start off with the one and only Giovanni. He’s a bit tricky to pinpoint, but as a Mafia inspired character, Giovanni works in the shadows. He doesn’t operate out in the open (I mean, obviously) and handles the more business side of things such as negotiations and elaborate planning. He doesn’t care about getting his hands dirty but don’t mistake him for being lazy or incapable of fighting.

As a villain, he’s the most put together. He’s a rational thinker and analyzes situations thoroughly. Not much of an optimist, but very opportunistic however it’s coupled with a hypothetical mindset. Giovanni never settles for one backup plan. He never bites off more than he can chew. He bides his time and attacks when the moment comes.

Obviously views himself highly and expects absolute respect. Has no tolerance for failure, like most other villains (except Archie) and punishes Grunts severely for any indiscretion.

Giovanni is aware of Maxie and Archie as they used to be part of Team Rocket in their early years. He has a low opinion of them, Archie especially for his goofy immaturity and lack of asserting his authority. Still, it does impress Giovanni that these two have managed to make a name for themselves as bosses.

Extremely patient. Giovanni can play the waiting game and he prefers it that way. He hates sloppiness and would rather surveillance his opponents before striking. He’s got eyes everywhere to ensure that no stone is left unturned.

Actually a decent father to Silver, but very much so a deadbeat. Not a lot of contact between the two. However, there were a few instances where they crossed paths but it’s usually brief and contains less pleasantries.

Maxie

Stereotypical nerd alert. Maxie is the epitome of the phrase “well, actually” and comes across as SUPER condescending. He thinks he’s doing people a favor by showering them with his logic and reasoning but really, at times, he’s speaking nonsense. He’s petty whenever Archie is around and does things that irk him, but between the two, Maxie does seem more mature albeit condescendingly. Hell, I’ll just say he’s condescending.

Long standing rivalry with Archie. It’s an amalgamation of being petty, competitive, and all round, goofy. On the outside, the other villains don’t take these two seriously. However, by himself, Maxie is actually calm and low key, so to an extent, he’s favored a bit more than Archie. Still, it doesn’t discredit the fact that this nerd has beef with a wannabe pirate over the expansion of landmass vs water.

Motive wise, the rest of the villains see Maxie and Archie’s motivations as idiotic. Biggest facepalm in motion.

Secretly admires Cyrus but at the same time developed a jealousy towards him. Maxie admires Cyrus’ technical abilities, his masterwork tinkering with machinery, and the like, but harbors resentment that he himself struggles with reaching that level of success and skill.

Archie

Loud, proud, and all round ruthless, this pirate has no qualms in throwing down. Very loose and probably the least threatening boss, Archie embraces the pirate life and shows no real strictness in his methods. He gives everything he has in battle and doesn’t have a serious persona like the other RR members, hence why nobody takes him seriously.

Again, he has beef with Maxie as mentioned prior. Archie thinks Maxie is too uptight about everything and needs to loosen up. Highly competitive (especially with Maxie) so Archie is willing to take on his counterpart any time or day.

Probably the friendliest villain in the Pokémon main line series. He’s approachable and has that chill uncle vibe.

He does the most reckless things out of the group. It doesn’t matter what it is. Archie will do some random things, no matter if he ends up getting hurt. He’s sturdy, he can handle anything.

Cyrus

Cyrus is a shut in, a recluse so to speak. He hates engaging with others and doesn’t like to be bothered. He only comes out of his room when he’s has to, but only related to Team RR business.

A quiet man. Rarely speaks but isn’t shy in throwing in his two cents. Can easily clap back an argument with a couple of sentences effortlessly (he’s good with his words) and uses vocabulary that makes Archie scratch his head.

Doesn’t take much for Cyrus to kill the mood. Hell, just his presence alone dies whatever mood everyone’s feeling down by an inch.

Probably one of the few villains that contemplates their actions (Maxie and Archie being in the same camp). He doesn’t regret his actions, but finds himself wondering if something else had occurred how would the outcome change? It’s clear that he gets on fine with your Rotom-Dex, so there is some soft side to this ice cold, stone faced man.

Aside from Ghetsis, the other RR bosses kind of show some level of genuine concern for Cyrus. Like, man, are you okay? Cyrus doesn’t get hounded mainly for the fact that there’s quite literally nothing to bully him for. He’s silent most of the time and, to put it simply, nihilistic (or depressed in some cases). He’s hard to relate to, but that doesn’t mean that the other RR bosses (except Ghetsis) don’t check up on him. Look, they may be evil bastards, but they don’t mess around when it comes to mental health (except Ghetsis; he can go fuck himself).

Ghetsis

A complete madman in the flesh. Ghetsis is an unstable man and let me say that no one approaches Ghetsis unless they have a death wish. The man’s only best friend is manipulation and that’s all he does. Fortunately, Giovanni is aware of this and uses simple yet effective intimidation tactics to unnerve Ghetsis.

Every Team RR Grunt fears Ghetsis. Enough said.

I completely support the theory about Ghetsis and his Hydreigon attacking him. It fits given that his Hydreigon knows the move Frustration (an attack that increases the more the Pokémon dislikes its Trainer) and has used said move on Ghetsis, causing near fatal injuries.

Linking with the prior point, Ghetsis’ right arm was torn off (by Hydreigon) and replaced with a prosthetic, same with his right eye. There are scars all over his torso and legs. He has some mobility issues but can get by okay without any assistance. He wears cloaks to cover every inch of his body to appear bigger, but in actuality, he’s quite scrawny.

Ghetsis tried, at one point, to manipulate each of the RR bosses. Almost worked on Archie (bc Archie is somewhat gullible) whereas Lysandre and Cyrus knew immediately what cyclops was putting down. Maxie kind of just didn’t care.

Inserts himself way. too. much. Ghetsis cannot stand being pushed aside and prefers to be the center of attention. Dramatic, yes, but I can only imagine that if the conversation doesn’t involve Ghetsis, he’ll make damn sure that it makes it back to him, revenant or not. He’s a narcissist trying to dominant, but Giovanni isn’t having it.

No one knows why Ghetsis appears and acts so cruelly. Some say he was just born to be evil while others pin a complex backstory. It’s been theorized that Ghetsis has an ancient linage; his ancestors ruling over Unova, the Abyssal Ruins being a towering fortress that, for the longest time, ruled with power and swath of knowledge and wisdom. Over time, the ruins sank to the bottom of the ocean, taking the last remnants of the Harmonia name with it, leaving behind Ghetsis to carry on that legacy many years later. Of course, Ghetsis perverts the family name by asserting his own sinister misdeeds, pushing his warped philosophy onto others, like N, with manipulation. The God complex he forms has consumed him to the point where he can barely distinguish reality apart from his own twisted fantasy.

Says some batshit insane things that no one can comprehend. Don’t bother arguing with him; he cannot be reasoned.

Lysandre

This man hides his insanity very well. He carries himself with confidence and pride, so you would never suspect this man having committed regional (or global) genocide.

Has a way with words, similar to Cyrus. He can talk his way out of situations with little to no effort as he’s both eloquent and charming.

Quite favorable with Giovanni and possibly with Cyrus.

Can never tell what he’s thinking. You don’t know if he’s joking or if he’s being serious. It’s a constant coin toss and he’ll keep you on your toes. He finds this trait about himself amusing while others, like Ghetsis and Archie, find it annoying.

Despite how insane and deeply twisted his actions are, Lysandre actually used to be a genuine human being. At some point in his early life, he tried to be giving and helping towards his community and all of Kalos, which did help improve the quality of life in the region. But, over time, the constant pressure of trying to solve every problem has left Lysandre empty and exhausted. He has kept trying to find an excuse to continue his good efforts, but every time it yielded the same results, the same cycle. People take advantage of kindness, people fight and bicker over generosity, and people demand more. Lysandre just… burnt out. He got tired and grew to resent humanity’s unwillingness to accept and appreciate what was being given to them, ruining the beauty of the world by perverting the generosity to match their own needs and desires. It disgusted Lysandre, hence why he chose the destructive path that he did. What other choice he did have?

Can be sincere at times. When he says something positive, he means it.

[skmhlml]

‘In the Line of Duty’ (series)

Military masked man x Fem!Reader(Rookie) Pt. 1

Word count: 1079 😭 (might do a whattpad)

You were fresh out of high school and did all you could to get into whatever dream of independence you had... which someone turned into a midnight bar drunken breakdown. You realized you had no fucking idea what you were doing with your life. The morning after, the weight of your choices hit you like a ton of bricks, and a wave of panic set in. Desperate to find some direction and stability, you impulsively walked into a recruitment office and signed up for the military. It seemed like the only viable option at the time, offering a sense of purpose and a steady paycheck.

As soon as you got home, you had another breakdown realizing what you had done. Out of all of them, why the Marines? No offense to them but the amount of blood that would be on your hands in the near future makes you want to cry and puke. Sure you could just quit but you didn't wanna seem too much of a pussy.

By the day you had to be sent to basic training, you thought to yourself that you had no choice. You were committed to it, and you were determined to make the best of it. You took a deep breath and hopped onto the bus. Nothing but yelling from the time you got on and when you got off.

You felt your heart sink as the reality of the situation set in. You knew you had to make the best of it, but you had no idea how. A recruit walking with me. Didn’t look older than 20, bright and fresh out of a failed semester of college…

Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny, about 5,6

“You ready for 13 weeks of hell?” He said with a laugh

“I’m gonna fucking die.” You swear you have a grey hair or two

“Ah- you didn’t do your research, did you?” He snickered.

You take a deep breath and try to relax. You realize he was joking, and you smile back. “I was drunk the day after I signed up for the Marines” you muttered

He laughed and slapped your back, “It's ok, I was too.” You both laughed and went on with your day. “I thought my parents were gonna kill me when I failed college.”

“This base has a lot of donations so from what I heard we get a dorm with three other people instead of getting sick and a big ass barrack room.” He nudged your shoulder

Before you could respond you all are brought inside to empty your bag of any personal stuff you thought you would need, but, there was barely anything you brought you needed, you got your ass chewed out a lot for the stuff, but a good idea to bring face stuff…

After you got your uniform and blah, blah, blah, dorms…blah, blah, blah. The first phase was physical training m, no fun outing limits but at least you weren't the fake orange blondes who ended up in the ER after trying to show off by not pacing themselves during a two-mile run.

By the end of the day, you were ready to fall asleep for a whole day, which wasn't the case because it turns out you get less sleep here than in college. The aching in your muscles wasn't any better

One thing you didn’t complain about i how your uniform seem to hug you in all the right places. So much for being a Vitoria secret model, you were serving the country with ass, tits, and waist.

There was a change up one day in workouts, it wasn't your drill instructor, she had to go out for a family emergency and the other had gotten a new batch of rookies so they had their hands full.

He was tall, tall, like Russian tirmanator from the movies. 6,7, bear built, very muscular, like if he squeezed you with his hands your body would shatter, his skin wasn't pale but wasn't very tan either, he has icey cold grey eyes, no blue…not green. Grey. Maybe even silver. He wore a camo balaclava only showing his eyebrows and eyes, from the look of his brows he had dark brown hair underneath the mask. He had the normal pt gear of drill sergeants but from the look of his rank, he was much higher than any sergeant.

The new person in charge was strict and made you work harder than anyone else. You had to work through the drills without stopping and your only option was to keep going until you were done. It was a difficult day but you got through it.

But you couldn't lie when he yelled or did workouts you got wetter than reading smut off an illegal site.

The higher-ups had agreed to keep him working as our PT instructor so we wouldn’t slack.

But by the end of the second week he had disappeared, rumored that his wife cheated with an Air Force twink, a pretty nasty divorce. They said it might take more than two years to go through court.

You were standing in formation with the others as the lady drill instructor just got off the phones, looking at all of us she points at you.

“Cadet (last name), you may fall out of formation. I need you to take these papers down to First Lieutenant Lewandowski.” She handed you the papers and you went on your way

You saluted the officer and made your way to his office. Opening the door you find your old drill Instructor, no ring on his finger but still the same terrifying build, at least he didn’t give up on self-care after the divorce.

He was sitting in front of the computer, rubbing his eyes with a stressed and distraught face. You placed the papers down softly so as to not make anything worse on him. You want to ask how he is but you were only a rookie who didn’t even know the dudes First name.

But he seemed to sense it as he looked down at the papers and back to you, a stare that would make Satan curl up in a ball. “I do not mind if you ask. It would be deeply appreciated.”

You nodded with hesitation “Are you okay? Uhm… Lutienetate” You both knew the answer

“First Lutienate,” he said with a deep but soft tone

“Frist Lutienate…” you whispered

“Sit down.”

“Yes sir.”

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 1

Warnings: A very large age difference and of course, smut

Oh, and very important: It's all fiction of course! Please, my dears, use condoms and don't go with old men! :-P

That my mother has to move several hundred miles away with my aunt to open a beauty salon, especially before the last year of my high school, was initially a big shock for me, but now I also see the advantages it brings. First of all, I finally get out of my little town, and there's also the immediate proximity to my cousin. Cassady is 5 years older than me, to be exact 23, but we have always gotten along great. Another advantage is that I no longer have to see my ex-boyfriend every day, since we are no longer in the same class. Plus, I still have almost the entire summer vacation ahead of me to enjoy life to the fullest, like now at this football game. If I were to say I love football, that would be an understatement, because it feels like every American does. For me, it's an absolute dream to live in the city of my favorite team. That's why I'm wearing the appropriate hoodie over my dress and, of course, the matching cap at the game.

The atmosphere in the stadium is absolutely insane and totally captivating. Even if my cousin doesn't really see it that way and only came along because of me.

Now we just have to push through a horde of men to get to our seats. And then hopefully it will start soon. Even though the game will really become secondary. Because the atmosphere alone is reason enough to be here.

Getting to our seats, however, proves to be more difficult than expected. We each have two large beer cups in hand and somehow have to get through this crowd. But the line at the drinks stand was huge, and I didn't want to spend the start of the game waiting in line. So we planned ahead. I almost managed to get to my seat unscathed, when suddenly this guy turns around in a flash. Everything happens so quickly that I can't react anymore, and so I spill half of the beer on him and myself. The tall stranger initially looks at me very angrily and is about to scold me, but then his look suddenly changes as his dark eyes meet mine.

"What the hell.. oh, sorry.. I didn't mean to spill your drink, ...can I offer you a new one? Of course, only if you're already 21.." He starts to grin, and his perfectly white row of teeth shines through his silver-black beard.

I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation and look bewildered at the large wet spot on his black shirt under his dark jacket. Guys my age are never dressed so well. Only maybe for a funeral or a prom, and I've never been to either.

"I'm already 22.." I say somewhat defiantly, and according to my fake ID, that wouldn't even be a lie.

"Perfect.." he concludes.

He turns around to hand me a full beer from the drinks available behind him. I take it gratefully, and finally my cousin and I can sit down exhausted in our seats.

Immediately she whispers excitedly in my ear, "Did you see how that guy looked at you? He's at least twice as old as you and basically undressed you with his eyes .. pretty cringe..".

I look at her innocently, "Cringe? I actually find him quite cute!"

"Cute?" she asks in surprise, rolling her eyes.

The stranger sits down in the seat right next to me and toasts us.

"Thanks," I say again.

"No problem, pleasure to meet you, i’m Negan!"

"Sam.." I stammer somewhat clumsily.

Then everyone turns back to their groups. After a while, I'm engrossed in conversation with my cousin again, but the guy next to me has put on such an intense cologne that it lingers in my nose the whole time. It smells so ruggedly masculine that it almost drives me crazy. Whenever I have the chance, I shyly glance to the right, but he doesn't look at me anymore. I'm strangely disappointed, so I try to push that thought aside.

The game is running fantastically. My team is winning, which makes me so euphoric that I even infect my cousin with it.

After the game, as we're getting ready to leave, someone roughly grabs my arm. I startle briefly, then look back into the dark eyes that send a pleasant tingling sensation through my entire body.

"Do you and your friend maybe want to come with us to a bar to celebrate the victory a bit?" he asks with a deep tone, and I feel my stomach vibrating at his words.

Suddenly, my cousin's voice snaps me out of my trance. "No, sorry, we have to get up early..".

I look at her puzzled.

"Um, actually... apologize for us for a moment!".

The stranger seems to be thoroughly amused by this situation.

I turn to her and whisper in her ear, "That sounds fun... come on, let's go with them!"

"With these guys?!" she says a bit too loudly.

Startled, I turn around, but he is engrossed in a conversation again and apparently, thankfully, hasn't noticed. After a seemingly endless discussion, we agree that I will go to the bar with them without her. But only with the promise to be reachable on the phone at all times.

Reluctantly, Cassady bids me goodbye with a hug and whispers in my ear, "Take care of yourself... and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Since my cousin has quite a bit of a checkered past, I don't even feel guilty promising her that.

When I agree to go with them, the stranger firmly takes my hand to guide me through the crowd out of the stadium. I'm initially a bit shocked by this strange situation, but fearing to lose him among the crowd, I interlock my fingers tightly with his and let him lead me out of the stadium.

The three of us, along with another man, take a seat on the backseat of a large black Audi. The men in the car are engaged in lively conversation about the game. Fortunately, I understand quite a bit about football and can engage in some discussion without sounding dumb, even though everyone else present is probably 30 years older than me.

After a short ride, we park in front of a small bar.

As we enter, the smell of smoke and alcohol greets me. The men take a seat at a round table, and I excuse myself for a moment to go to the bathroom.

There, I take off my sweater and am quite glad that I'm wearing a short black dress underneath. I take off my cap and let my hair down, then adjust it and try to fix my makeup a bit. I take a deep breath a few more times, looking at myself in the mirror. Then I go back, determined. But the table is empty. Startled, I look around, a thousand thoughts racing through my head.

But then I hear someone call out, "Here we are!" The voice comes from the billiard table. Relieved, I see Negan sitting on a sofa in front of the others. I walk purposefully towards them.

Two are already playing, and the clattering of the balls drowns out the conversations in the entire bar.

Since the couch is already occupied, I take a seat on the armrest next to Negan. He unabashedly looks me up and down and then offers me a beer.

"You look damn good..." he says directly, making my heart skip a beat and my cheeks blush.

After the men finish their game, I challenge him. He accepts with a smile, probably not expecting that I practically grew up at the billiard table. As he takes his first shots, he realizes it's not as easy as he thought, which pleases me.

Watching him concentrate more on the game makes me proud, and he looks even better doing it. As he leans closer to make his next move, he unexpectedly gives me a rather strong pat on the backside.

"Hey, unfair move!" I protest immediately, which only elicits a tired smile from him, but sends a strong tingle down in my lower abdomen.

But I manage to win against him, albeit very narrowly, which clearly annoys him. Afterwards, he has to endure some teasing from his buddies. Resignedly, he sits back on the sofa, and I proudly perch on the armrest again.

During the next round with his friends, we engage in animated discussions about their gameplay and continue drinking our beer. After a while, Negan starts touching my bare shin. At first, he just places his warm hand there, but then he starts stroking it slowly. The touches of his large rough hands are so gentle that they give me goosebumps. I enjoy this feeling and what it does to me to the fullest. I'm disappointed when he lets go of my leg, but only to offer me a vodka shot that the waitress had placed on a large tray in front of us. The drink is much needed, as my mouth feels incredibly dry.

We clink glasses, and I down the shot in one go. The sharp alcohol burns in my throat and then warms my stomach, shooting straight to my head. I can tell that Negan is watching my every move closely.

As soon as I place the empty glass back on the table, he puts his hand on my thigh.

"You look so damn sexy drinking it all in one go, do you like swallowing other things too?" he whispers unabashedly.

I almost slap him out of reflex, but as I look into his grinning face and his lustful eyes meet mine, my whole lower abdomen tightens, and I can't help but smirk. We gaze at each other for a while, and then I decisively say, "Why don't you find out.."

Without warning, he pulls me onto his lap, and before I know it, I'm straddling him, and he immediately starts kissing me. His lips are incredibly demanding. I place my hands on his cheeks to try to control the situation somewhat, while I completely forget everything around me and simply ignore the stupid comments from others.

His fingers trail down my back purposefully, immediately gripping my buttocks tightly. Then he presses me firmly against his pelvis. Excited, I breathe against his open mouth as I feel his penis getting harder and pressing strongly against me.

Sensing my hesitation, he whispers softly, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing.. it's just pretty big.." I grin, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He smiles contentedly and presses me against him again, then gently kisses the sensitive skin on my neck and says in my ear, "Oh, don't worry, pretty princess, I'll order a taxi for us now, and then we'll go to my place where I'll pamper you so much that your little pussy will get nice and wet for me, and then my big, hard cock can slide into you slowly and effortlessly. How does that sound?"

His deep voice and direct manner drive me crazy. I nod decisively and kiss him again. I then take his right hand off my butt and guide it under my dress, directly between my legs.

"I'm already so wet for you, feel it!" I reply somewhat shyly.

His fingers deftly shift my panties aside, while his eyes scan my face precisely, enjoying every reaction from me. Slowly, he skillfully glides his middle finger through my cleft, causing me to involuntarily flinch.

"You're such a naughty sweet girl!" he remarks amusedly, as his finger leaves my most intimate place again, moistening my lips with my wetness. He then kisses me again, passionately sucking my taste from my lips. "You taste incredibly good.." he says contentedly.

[drowninginblox]

Mutant Freedom Now

X2 Kurt x Reader (Part 1?)

Well look at this- ya girl made one for X2! Yeah. this was mostly for a friend. Alan Cumming's rendition is alright but he's not my fav. (nothin' against the fox girlies! I got into this mess through them lmao) Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this start. Don't worry, that Bridgerton AU I started forever ago is still on my mind. I'm just having a bit of a time right now.

Yall know the drill- 2nd person POV There is a leaning towards the reader being fem Go in with the warning that there is more German bc other than the accent the writers kind of forgot that.

BTW- X2 Script for ref. It helped a bit for this fic

Stumbling into a church was the last thing you'd thought you'd do. After all, the house of god is no place for sinners like you. As if your porn addiction isn't enough, late-stage puberty gave you the gift of intuition too good to dismiss.

It's how you outed the head priest at church for being a cheater, how you found out your best friend was paid to be by your side by your parents, how you learned that the only reason you made it this far was your dear old dad's money and mommy's 'salacious acts'. You wouldn't think that cuckolding would be a silver lining. But hey, it got you into college. The sting of knowing it wasn't because of your merit hasn't gone away, yet. One day though. Once you've finished college, move on from your parents, and make it big on your own. Hopefully.

But that was not tonight. No, the mutation engine was revving, and you knew better than to ignore it. So here you were, walking around in the middle of the night, freezing your ass off because of the instinctual hunch that's gotten you this far in life. Amazing, truly.

"Miles, I have walked what damn well could be 500 miles and it still won't be worth the amount of time I have wasted. I swear to god, If this isn't a life or death situation-" You huffed under your breath. The vapor of Boston's early spring still evoked the cold.

Your feet led you to a decrepit old church. The sight made you swear as you could hear the creek of worn doors from your place on the sidewalk. "Are you fucking kidding me..." You huffed but that didn't change the tug you felt from within you. Everything about this was a screaming horror movie in the making. From the lack of light inside to the sheer size of the place. As if the religious guilt wasn't enough, the place damn near loomed over you the longer you look into its stained glass window. Forcing comforting thoughts yielded "This would be a metal place to die." and "I wonder who's smoking in there." Yet the tug didn't yield. In fact, it felt stronger the more you lingered. Sighing through this was the only thing to do now as praying to a god you didn't believe in would be something you wouldn't forgive yourself for.

So you pull out your aunt's walkman as a last-ditch effort of comfort. "Let's see what I'm gonna be murdered to..." You mumbled. A click of the tape yielded Lucy and The Sky of Diamonds. Not the worst choice, but definitely not the best. You couldn't be bothered to fast forward as the cringe was the best distraction you're gonna get from this Friday the 13th looking set up. Another puff of warm air goins the cold as a sigh breaks away.

Each step to the cathedral felt like a herculean task. Past decisions and questions of what waited for you weighed you down yet the tug persisted to the point of pulling you to the ominous doors. "Hail Mary, full of grace- tell me what's behind door number one!" You huffed. The door opened with your heave, groaning at your assault. "I do not get paid enough for this," You wheezed from the exertion. A slew of coughs followed suit after the greeting of dust and the smell of age met you with open arms.

Clearing your watering eyes allowed a sense of relief. The interior wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Abandoned pews, a central aisle, and a makeshift stage/alter area were all there was to this place. At least on first viewing. in your books, it was always good to be met with nothing in the beginning. That leaves just enough time to brace for the trainwreck. Aside from that, it wasn't a bad place to hang out if mold or rats hadn't made themselves at home already. "Okay..." You mumbled as you looked around. Hesitation crept in but was squashed with a defining step. Then another, and another, until the next thing you know, you're a yard inside the house of god with nothing but the highlights of the Bettle's high-life ringing in your ears.

You could only mumble along to the chorus as you took a more thorough look around the place. "Lucy and the sky of die-monds..." You tried to dance a little to ease the tension and make yourself laugh, the trick allowing a small smile to creep along your face. Once the pews were searched, you looked out to the greater church. Another daring step inside startled some settled pidgins, making you wince. Metal creaked from somewhere you couldn't see. A sense of tension you chose to ignore hung heavy in the air. "If anyone is there," You spoke, your voice getting a little louder as you continued into the darkness "Know I'm not here to hurt you. And... whatever is going on, I'm not gonna call the hog-squad." You chuckled a little only to bite your lip in embarrassment followed up by clarification "Th-the cops, I mean. I'm not gonna call them." You hold up your hands hesitantly. "I-I'm unarmed too... if that helps." Something in the back of your mind screams to turn around and run, yet you remain planted in your spot as a groan echos. "Steigen sie aus. Get out."

The voice only yields a raised brow. "Gesundheit?" You offered as you lowered your hands. A sound resembling a puff of a noise comes from nearby. "Geht! Ich bin ein minion des Teufels!" You turn only to see nothing. "Huh?" Another alien sound follows from another direction, followed by another and another. "Dude, I just wanna talk! That's it! I can't leave until I do!" Another sound follows and you just sigh as a string of what you assume to be German follows. Rather than indulging the stranger, you just wait him out from a nearby pew. Sitting and praying to yourself that they speak something you know. "As if the walk wasn't exhausting enough." You mumbled before closing your eyes.

Eventually, they take the hint, quieting down before another poof of a noise can be heard from overhead. You open your eyes to be met with stark yellows. "Are you done yet?" You call. From what you could make out in the darkness, they seem to cock their head. "Do you understand English?" There's a beat of what can only be apprehension. "Listen, you don't gotta come down. I just wanna understand why I'm here... Because, well, I was willed here. And since I'm tied to the plot, I can't leave." You urge. "I've walked all the way from UofB, I am operating on a Cup of noodles, and I haven't had a good day. Please, for the love of all things holy and non, cut me a break man." They gauge you for a long time before speaking again. "It's not that I don't want to talk, I just don't want to scare you, fräulein." You could only sigh in relief. "Is that all?" You joke. Somehow, you can see the glimmer in his eyes. "Dude, I walked in on my parents. I've seen hell. It can't be worse than that." There's a slight scoff from above.

"How about this, we talk somewhere where you are comfortable, face to face, and I keep my eyes closed through all of it." You offer with a shrug. "Or we can keep talking like this. I'm not opposed to height differences." There's a simple chuckle. It's short and small, but light and fluffy. For some reason your heart stutters.

"You... you promise to close your eyes?" You cross your heart. "May god strike me down for wronging you in his house." That eases him as his eyes get closer. "Then... close them." You do so, and the next thing you know, the world is nothing but darkness.

The poof of noise sounds off in front of you, making the temptation to open your eyes greater. Yet you are in a place of hope and a in situation built on trust. "Do you mind if I touch you?" He murmurs. His accent laces through his words in a way that makes your ears warm. "Um- yeah, sure." Your compliance is met with nimble, shakly hands on your upper arms. If the uncertainty of his actions wasn't made clear enough, his voice was a dead giveaway. "S-stand up..." You do so and he leads you out of the pew. Once out in the aisle, his touch leaves your shoulders for a few moments. "I..." He starts only to sigh and mumble something you couldn't catch. "You can take my hand if you want."

The offer is met with tense silence. Minutes never felt so long. "I-if you wish," He murmurs before taking your hand. Warmth, immense and comforting warmth came with his touch. It was muted by your layers, but here, flesh to... what could only be his flesh. his hand felt a little leathery... was plentiful and overwhelming. You had to fight a smile. "Alright, we're going to be side by side... It isn't a long trek." He assures. The nervousness in his voice was chipping away. "Okay, then lead the way, oh' man of mystery." You muse. You hope that the warmth in the air was from his smile. Or maybe those bright eyes crinkling.

Each step the pair made echoed along the walls of the sanctuary. Uncertainty dripped down your tightening throat, but there was solace in the mutual feeling. His grip on your hand seemed to squeeze every so often. It was getting to the point of discomfort actually. "Um... I'm Y/n L/n." You eased. When silence followed, you clarified intermixed dissipating nerves. "Th-thats my name. Just so you know." A deep breath followed an equally nervous olive branch. "Kurt Wagner." There's a smile in his voice as he follows up in a smaller but more enthusiastic tone. "But I was once known as 'the amazing Nightcrawler'." You smiled a little "You sound like a showman." He chuckled meekly. "Once upon a time, I was."

"Oh? What... well, what-" "Made me homeless?" He finished a bit dryly. "I was going to say 'in between places', but why aren't you out there?" He sighs before a hushed confession "I... I don't know. I wasn't aware of myself. M-My body I mean... Gott, das klingt wahrscheinlich verrückt…" He mumbles as his grip on you loosens slightly. You offer a squeeze. "How so?" Your pressure is returned after a moment.

He sighs "I don't know how, but I awoke in a place far from my home. I tried to look for help, but I couldn't. My body was acting on its own and I couldn't fight it. I-I almost did something awful." He admitted. "Here, watch your step liebe," He murmurs "We have some stairs." It took a bit, but you found yourself traversing the stairs easily enough with Kurt as your stabilizer. "Thank you." You mumbled. "It truly is no problem." He assures before muttering something under his breath.

Silence blankets the stairwell other than the obvious steps and the lingering coo of pigeons. "Hold onto the wall for a moment," He advised. You do so as you hear him step away, followed by the creak of metal hinges. "Another room?" You offer. "My own, yes." He returns to your side and guides you into said room.

It's warmer. "You have excellent decor." You note as he lowers you into a plush seat on the ground. "Why thank you I-" He pauses at the realization you still had your eyes closed. You chuckle at his lapse. He takes it well. "Oh, du bist so ein Komödiant. I'll give you that one, that- that was good." He admits softly as his voice moves around the room. You swear you can hear a smile in it. You meet it in kind. "I try."

"Now," He sighs as you can only assume he's also sitting in front of you. His voice was closer now. "You wanted to speak with me?" You nod as your hands find each other. "You said you couldn't control yourself from doing something terrible. I think I may be here to help you." His voice lowers to match the gravity of the question. "How so?"

"I... I think I'm like you. I think I'm a mutant." There a soft scoff. "Well, what is your gift?" You sigh "That's the thing, I don't fully know. All I know is that I get this feeling that's like a tug on my chest or hand or... of whatever part of my body is closest to the place I need to be and I... I just follow it." There a hum of sorts, laced with understanding and curiosity. "And what is to happen if you don't?"

You can only swallow as the memories run your throat dry "Bad things." He remains quiet, which you consider a blessing. "I see." He eventually says. The wind blows through somewhere in the room, making what hair flow with its will. "You are very forthright," Kurt mumbles. "Where I come from, that can be a blessing and a curse." You laugh through a huff. "Most of us only live once, 'better to get on with the bull and just rush in."

His silence is deafening.

"So,... am I not going to see what you look like?" He sighs "There's nothing worth looking at here." You scoff and wave a hand, making contact with worn leather. "Hey!" "Oh shit- Sorry!" You mumbled. He sighs "I cannot fault you for that. We are cut from the same cloth in a sense," He breathes with an air of humor. "Prone for the dramatics as you say..."

"You didn't answer my question." Again, he sighs "You won't like what you see..."

"Who said that?" There is another pause "Promise not to scream?" He murmurs. "I'll do my best, but I can't control my reactions, Kurt." He sighs and starts to mumble in a cadence you recognize. "Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme...Dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel so auf Erden..." You sigh "I'm opening my eyes." He seemingly pays you no mind as you act on your claim, opening your eyes to witness him.

You've only heard of blue people from the conspiracy theorists at your high school and college, so seeing one in person is a bit of a surreal experience. The warm light of the candles gives him an ethereal glow, highlighting the markings along his body . "Oh wow..." He looks up to you, fear and pure anxiety mixing with the gold. His lips purse to the point of trembling. "You're a site." You say gently with a smile you can only hope doesn't come as forced. He only looks away. "You don't need to be kind to me." He murmurs. "Why shouldn't I? You're-" "The 'Amazing Nightcrawler'... a freak of nature and expert acrobat." You roll your eyes and swat at his forehead. "Hey! Wofür war das?"

"I might not have practiced the good word in a while, but last I checked hatred isn't permitted in the house of god." He winces a little. "Corinthians 6:19 und 20… Oder wisst ihr nicht, dass euer Leib ein Tempel des Heiligen Geistes in euch ist, den ihr von Gott habt? Ihr seid nicht euer eigen, denn ihr seid um einen Preis erkauft worden. So verherrlicht Gott in eurem Leib.“ You cock your head. "English please?" He glances at you before looking away. "You are right, liebe." You smile a little. "I hope liebe is a point of endearment." He smiles up to you nervously. It's kind of cute. "I assure you, it is."

From his left, a small dove coos before hopping to his side. He smiles before petting the peaceful creature with a finger larger than its head. "You don't seem like the monster everyone thinks you are." You murmur. He looks up from the bird to you, his smile faltering for a moment before warming with realization. "Well, you'd be the first."

"But not the last."

[upn-the-sky]

They were left in Sparta (Lysandra and Calliope OOAK, part 2)

What's going on here?

Part 1 - Heads and bodies

You saw me straggled with Kratos!

You saw me wasted with Ares!

What can break me after all armor, weapons and warfare attributes I made!

Only women clothing..

I can embroider, but I absolutely can't sew. My brain is fully against this activity. I nearly fall asleep with a needle in my hand. Maybe it is different, when you use sewing machine, but i don't have one, so I had no choice.

This part will cover my tries to make dresses for Kratos's wife and daughter from the rectangle pieces of fabric, avoiding sewing like a plague.

____________

Preparation process

Must be said. I didn't even try to follow all cultural rules in reproducing these dresses in real life, because in the first trilogy we have a very fantactic version of Hellada after all. But I looked at concept arts and screenshots for hours deciding, what should I do to not feel myself like a fool.

I've already mentioned that before, but most of the time you just sit and brainstorm how to adapt conception of the clothes you see to the real life.

I want to be canon, but I also want to make my dolls feels right. This is actually just a continuation of my monologue about "searching the right fabrics which fits an ancient warrior". But things became more complicated here. I mean, at least Kratos wears short chiton under his armor. And Lysandra??

Don't fight me about it, I think we all can agree that Lysandra's dress aged not very well.. (Calliope has better situation..). I like the idea that Lysandra's dress made from two separate pieces, but it has very european vibe if said it straightly. I saw a lot of arts here on tumblr, where artists draw her wearing a classic chiton, so that means I am not alone here.

____________

Lysandra As I said before in the post about Kratos's armor, making dolls of ancient people with ascetic culture bans me from using fabrics which feels too modern. Both blue and white fabrics should have right and different! texture comparing to each other (underwear shouldn't be too rough), right thickness (for the natural folds at 1/6 scale), right color (close to something "basic").

Good points! - I thought and started to make sandals, because it is easier and needs only leather and threads.

Okay, it was fast.. Returning to the fabrics...

For the white dress I found very very thin cotton cambric with a slight crush effect. After cutting a rectangular piece (I know it is not a right way, but I can live with it), I cut a hole for the neck and hemmed the edges of the collar.

For the blue dress I found and chose bright blue cotton gauze. Pattern is almost the same. Rectangular piece with a neck hole and front slit at hem.

First try with 90° angled hem "tails". (I ruined collar, wap wap wap..)

Second try with with more longer 60° angled hem "tails". And simple embroidery over the chest, which I made in between of cursing.

After that I drew claws-like patterns and other lines with the silver acrilic paint.

For the finish touches we need a hairband. And I'll say straightly.

There is absolutely no apportunity to make it the same as in the game. I tested silk ribbons and many variants of thin fabric, but it just doesn't lay right over the forehead and hair and looks very awkward and heavy. That's the problems you face when you try to recreate 3d models in reality..

Soooooo I made a little non-cannon variant of this hairband using blue threads, which turned out pretty good I think. I was not able to drew pattern on it (I tried and ruined the first try), but for the more fancy look I added a small dropping tassels behind her ears (uwu).

Other uwu-touches that nobody asked is her juwelry. Her significant golden pendant, Kratos's gift, which I don't like in the game, but like it in real life. Made from the things for the nail design. And a silver omega ring from GOW Ascension, which is not canon for GOW1, but I found perfect little blue marbles!!

____________

Calliope

Let I just make a scream and you believe me that I went absolutely insane with her tiny dresses.

You need to find blue fabric, but not the same blue (warm torquoise?) and much more thinner. Because Calliope's doll body is very tiny and fabric still should make folds more or less naturally. Okay, you found a nice thin cotton with embroidery. It has right thickness and feelings, but it is not blue enough and you are already too insane to search for more. But not too much! because you deside to tone fabric by yourself.

NO. It can't be too much efforts for the little Calliope.

White cotton cambric as an underneath dress and a two-pieced dress from above. Long enough to hide her tiny bare feet (uwu).

Oh, and a hairband. __________________________ And that's all I guess. My main purpose during making these two was 'separating' them. Because in GOW1 they are not really a characters. They are 'wife and child', one entity Kratos lost. They even have the same blue color pallete like clones.

I am happy that they turned out similar in some ways, but at the same time pretty different.

Calliope in process really received vibes of her father as I wish. She is a little strange girl and likeness to her father makes her face looks a bit awkward. But her light aquatic color and stripes feels very cheerful and playful. Same as Calliope herself.

Lysandra's blue color is more haunting, bright and strong. Has more complicated hue. Straight silhouette, lack of decor and rough texture complicates her. She is a spartan like her husband. Very disciplined, knows her role, but not so rigid as Kratos. And same as him deeply worried about people she loves.

If you think this the end of this chapter of my doll customizing, you are wrong! We will have a bonus level with other canon stuff which Kratos needs AND more family photos! Thank you for your support in comments and PM Stay tuned! seeeee ya

[braveclementine]

Chapter 1

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You pulled on a long F/C hoodie along with a pair of black capris and some silver, purple, and pink shoes before pulling your H/C hair back into a ponytail. It was a little hotter out, but you had gotten more and more uncomfortable with having your left arm showing as you had gotten older and older.

That was because you had eleven soulmates.

Eleven.

E-le-ven.

No one had eleven soulmates. The most someone had was five. It was in the book of Genius World Records. At least, it had been until you had turned six months of age and the doctors were putting you up for photos to steal that place.

Eleven soulmates.

Each soulmate was shown by a colour imprinted into your skin. It circled the entire way around and coloured in. Very rarely, there would sometimes be a mix of two colours in one line, which meant that they were a complicated person.

You had eleven. More than half of them had two colours on each line.

Each line was about one and a half or two inches thick, so you had half of the space between your elbow and your wrist covered.

The first line was gold.

The second was gold and green.

The third line was pure black.

The fourth was red, white, and blue.

The fifth was silver and red.

The sixth was blue and green.

The seventh was red and gold.

The eighth was purple and black.

The ninth was also silver.

The tenth was also purple and black.

The eleventh was pink and brown.

Yours- your favorite colour- was situated on the right wrist and it was (for story purposes I chose because I needed an 'unusual' colour) Periwinkle, Turquoise OR Jade.

You grabbed your water bottle and headed outside for a run.

You hadn't been living in New York for long, having moved here for [either college or work].

You quickly headed for the park that you had been running at, popping earbuds into your ears, before setting it to your running playlist and taking off.

In the soulmate world of colours, you didn't develop your colours until you were six months old. And at that point, most didn't even get their left colours yet. Just their right one. It usually meant that their soulmate wasn't born yet.

The colours could change of course, people's favorite colours changed all of the time. You remembered when the purple and black line (number 8) had once been grass green and arctic blue. That change hadn't actually been to long ago, well five plus years at least. . . whenever the Sokovia Accords were supposed to have been signed.

You were allowed to marry all of your soulmates, because the Supreme Court acknowledge- as having more than one soulmate became more and more popular- that it wouldn't be fair to the other soulmates if only two could get married.

However, you weren't allowed to have sexual interactions without someone who wasn't your soulmate and even after meeting your soulmate, you weren't allowed to have sexual interactions until your honeymoon. This was to assure that there were no illegitimate children. And that was because children who were born of two people who weren't soulmates ended up not having any soulmate bonds period. They also tended to become either extremely sick, or extremely scary. Some of the most famous examples were Red Skull, Obadiah, Hitler, and Xi Xi Ping.

Once you were married, you developed an underlying characteristic from your soulmate. For example, if you soulmated with someone who was abundant in generosity, you would find that you yourself was more generous as well after the marriage bond. Whatever trait you got however, usually was to tip one of your own more. . . unfavorable characteristics into balance. So if you were a 'scrooge', you would become 'not scrooge'.

It was funny though, you had eleven soulmates and you had yet to meet a single one. And here you were [18-30] years of age, and still not one of your soulmates had shown. Seriously? How was that possible?

You sped up at the end of the song, putting in a full out sprint before the ads started to play. You slowed down before coming to a complete stop, taking a deep drink from your water bottle.

You sighed, wiping your forehead briefly with the hoodie sleeve. It truly was a right pain in the ass to wear such long clothes while running. But you hated being called out for, 'hey, aren't you the girl who was in the record book for eleven soulmates?'

Yeah, no thanks.

Maybe you could get those like. . . what are they. . . like arm sleeve. . .things? Ugh. English words.

Your phone started to ring and you picked it up, "Hey Y/S/N, are you up yet?"

"Clearly if I'm calling you." Your sister's voice grumbled through the phone. "I was hoping to sleep in a little longer. Your boss called the home phone. He wants you in the office in forty-five minutes."

"Ah shit." You cursed, hurrying back towards the apartment you shared with your sister. "Alright, I'm on my way."

You ran past a brunch of people walking calmly on the streets, bumping into an African American man who looked slightly familiar.

"I'm so sorry." You said hurriedly before moving past him, not even noticing the two female guards that had moved to stop you. Nor did you see him lift a hand to keep them from killing you for your 'crime'.

So maybe they wouldn't have killed you, who knows.

"Yeesh." He said in a light tone, "No need to be so uptight Okoye. It was an accident."

"Just wanted a less rushed apology my King." Okoye said stiffly.

T'Challa laughed a little, "She's clearly in a hurry. It is of no importance. Let us continue."

Meanwhile in your apartment, you rushed to shower, put your makeup one, do your hair, and throw on some appropriate clothes for your secretary job before rushing back out again. You hailed a taxi- you got lucky- and then you were on your way to work.

It was Thursday, so you hadn't been expecting work as you usually only worked Friday afternoons, Saturdays, and Sundays to keep up with your college studies Monday-Friday. But College had ended last week, leaving you on summer break. You had let it temporarily slip your mind.

Your mind wandered to your soulmates again, getting slightly desperate. You had several friends that were happily married- some of them even had kids already. Your sister had just gotten married and she was several years younger than you.

More specifically though, you wondered if your soulmates were just as desperate for you, or if they had other soulmates. Just because they were your soulmate and you were theirs, it didn't mean that they didn't have their own.

(For example: T, G, and S. S might be soulmate with both T and G, but it doesn't mean that T and G were soulmates with each other, just S. T might even have M as their own soulmate but neither G nor S is soulmates with M. But M would be part of the relationship because their soulmates with T and T is soulmate with S and S is soulmate with G and T. Confusing, I know. I made this story much harder on myself than need be.)

Luckily, you made it to your job with five minutes to spare, quickly take your spot behind one of the five secretary desks, setting yourself up.

Your secretary desk was a bit more cluttered than the others. You had a book in one of the cubby holes that you sometimes pulled out when it was a slow day. Several cups were on the shelf- not for drinking- but just filled to the brink with pens and pens and more pens. Your calendar book was on the left side of the desk, your laptop in the middle, and then the phone that you took the calls from on the right.

You pulled up the computer, letting it warm up quickly as you settled yourself in.

It was a slow day as predicted and you switched between work, reading snippets from the book, and also researching some stuff online.

Around lunch time, you put your phone on pause, grabbing your purse, and heading out with three of the other four girls that worked behind the desk.

"Where do you guys want to eat out today?" Stacy asked.

"Umm, how about Chinese food?" Jessie suggested, "I haven't had that in forever."

"Sure." You said. "There's a Panda Express nearby. I wouldn't mind getting some orange chicken and fried rice."

"Oh that does sound good." Katherine said wistfully.

The four of you walked to the Panda Express a few blocks down, ordering, before sitting at one of the high tables on stools. As you chowed down on the delicious and savory orange chicken paired with steamy fried rice and a nice F/Soda, Jessie said, "Oh yeah, did you guys here about the woman who bumped into the King of Wakanda today?"

"No, when did this happen?" You asked in interest. "Is she still alive?"

Stacy tsked, "Y/N, you know that the King of Wakanda isn't like that."

You grinned, "I was just kidding. Do they know who bumped into him?"

"No, apparently she was running like crazy." Jessie said thoughtfully. She pulled out her phone, pulling up something before sliding it over to you. You picked it up as she finished off her Teriyaki chicken as you watched.

You felt your heart start to beat faster and the blood drain from your face as you recognized exactly who had bumped into the King of Wakanda. While they hadn't been able to capture your face. . . well you pretty much know when you're on camera.

Shit. You knew he'd looked familiar.

You slid the phone over to Jessie, taking a large sip of your soda before asking, "Where is he staying?"

"Avengers Tower naturally." Katherine said with a shrug, slurping up her low mein noodles, "Did you know he doesn't have a soulmate yet? In fact, there's rumor than none of the Avengers have soulmates!"

"Crazy, right?" Stacy sighed, rubbing her singular blue band of her male soulmate whose name was Jackson.

"No, Captain America has his soulmate." Jessie said, shaking her head. "He's soulmated to Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson."

"Oh wow." I said. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well he doesn't flaunt them, ya know?" Jessie asked. "Although it was a bit of a surprise since soulmates are normally male and female pairs and same-sex pairs are rare just cause. . . well you know children. But he seems happy."

You didn't watch to much about the Avengers. You knew most of them, though not to a crazy extent. You were a big fan of that one song though.

"I think Tony Stark found is soulmate too, now that I think about it," Katherine said, frowning slightly before tucking her black hair over her shoulder. "But he's never said who it is."

"Pepper Potts?" Stacy asked.

"No. She's in that relationship with Happy Hogan and May Parker." Katherine said, shaking her head, "They have Peter Parker from May's brother and sister and then Morgan Hogan from Pepper and Happy."

"I thought I heard Pepper and Tony were soulmates?" You questioned as the four of you started to clean up the trash, tossing it.

"There was speculation because they were so close, but nope. Tony's friend Happy instead. Although I don't think May and Pepper are soulmates."

Once you were back at work and by yourself, the nerves started to twist in your stomach. You were starting to think of worst case scenarios. What if the King of Wakanda was waiting for you when you got home? What if your apology was inadequate for the King? Oh God, of course it was inadequate!

The nerves ate you up so badly your boss told you go home and get some rest because you were looking sick. You simply nodded, packing it up and walking home instead of trying to catch a taxi.

Once you were home, you looked around you, sure that the King of Wakanda would be out there waiting for you. Or maybe a guard. But there was no one. You headed into the apartment building, taking the elevator to the fifth floor and stepped into your apartment.

You did a full, paranoid scan of the apartment- your sister was out- before finding the place empty.

The King of Wakanda had not cared.

Good.

But the nerves wouldn't let you go.

Should you apologize again? Go to Avengers Tower and ask to see the King of Wakanda?

Yeah right.

Like they'd let a commoner like you in.

Maybe you could flash your eleven bands and gain some 'celebrity' pass.

Laughable.

You dithered around the apartment for another half hour before you headed out of the building again. It was at least worth a chance.

So you started the walk towards the Avengers Tower.

➡️

[shmowder]

requesting anything nsfw kainburov but it’s totally ok if not 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 lov ur old man yaoi memes

Too Late, Too Soon Pt.1

[ Alexander Saburov x Victor Kain ] [Part Two]

[ AO3 mirror]

[Smut, internal homophobia, unfulfilled desires, angst, hatred and love, delusion, feminization, unhealthy coping mechanism, NO love traingles: polyamory wins, merges P1 and P2 canons]

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

Nine O'clock.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

The handle turns with a squeek, the floorboards creek, the door clicks shut again.

Victor stood up from his chair just as the governor enters the room. The silver tray of tea he set out for guests gets ignored for the second time around. A small respectful distance is maintained between the two of them.

"My condolences, for your family's loss." Brief and rehearsed, a white envelope is set at the edge of his desk. "Simon ment many things to many people."

"Thank you." Victor replied, a short cordial response that didn't offer much room to continue the conversation.

"I assume your family started with the funeral arrangements already?" Yet the governor remained stubborn still.

Pursing his lips into a thin line, Victor summerised as much as he could. "We will, after the day has passed. Georgiy is... besides himself, at the moment. I'm handling the paperwork. The death certificate will follow after. The burial will take place in the family's tomb." Hoping his answer will be satisfactory, this time around.

The body must not be disturbed for 24 hours, family tradition. He couldn't have known, he wasn't there during her funeral.

"And was the decision to hire that famous doctor to look for his murderer one that your brother took on the spot?" Alexander didn't hesitate to pivot the topic of discussion, a clear agenda in mind. "Inviting strangers to meddle into the town's affairs has always been one of his fortes."

"I see you have been acquainted already. A bright ambitious mind, is he not?" And so the younger Kain deflected in return.

"The rest is up to debate." Criticism, he must always spot the flaws in everyone around him. "You're clearly biased. He's a graduate from the same institution you're planning to get your degree from."

If only it was any other person, Victor might have been touched at their attentiveness to his whereabouts and future plans.

If only.

"Maria foresaw greatness in him," so should've Katerina, how come your wife never spoke of him? All Mistresses' visions allign. At least, true Mistresses—But, he knew better than to voice those thoughts. "My brother is a hard to impress man. I'm sure he will prove himself in due time."

"I sent him to Lyuricheva to act as his aid." Two peas in a pod. "Let's hope he doesn't turn out to be another Stamatin case, for his own sake." The last part was spoken through gritted teeth.

"I don't think so. It's nearly an impossibility..." He lied. "But, if the worst comes to be, I trust in you to handle the matter as delicately as you had previously, governor." Sprinkling the backhanded compliment on top.

"And I trust in your brother to abuse his jurisdiction to approve yet another last minute insanity plea." Blunt and to the point, how abrasive his insults were always irritated Victor. Social etiquette was lost on him, it seemed. These situations should be handled delicately. Gloves are a requirement for politics. The art of subtlety is of the utmost importance, yet the dear governor walked around with a loaded gun.

"You had him examined." Victor played up his anger, replying with rehearsed exasperation. "Repeatedly, may I add. Much to the displeasure of his twin."—It took both of Maria and Eva to talk him down—"All great artists are known to face strife... Peter's predicament is the cost of his ingenious mind." Never true anger, merely the pretence of one, the aesthetics of sharp teeth.

"Your Andrey made his displeasure known loud and clear." But of course, not even the devil could intimidate a governor like him. "Beating three psychiatrists to an inch of their lives. Those architects will be the downfall of the Kains' legacy, mark my words." Rubbing his failure in with another direct insult, Victor wondered if his attempts at intimidation even ment anything to the other man. To Saburov's eyes, more akin to the mewling of a kitten than any bark or roar, perhaps.

"Why have you come here, governor Saburov?" Lifiting his chin high even through his defeat, Victor regained his composer.

"I came to apologise." It stung to admit, that much was clear from the traces of genuine remorse across his steel-like expression "I sent a carrier in my stead last time, when I should've gone in person."

"... We took no offence. losing Nina crumbled many of the delicate infrastructures of the town. It's only sensible for you to be there besides your wife as she paved a new path."

As she rushed to take her place—Victor did not add.

"That's not an excuse. I've neglected my duties to your family. Losing a wife and a brother in the same decade can't be easy. I'm truly sorry, Victor."

Alexander's hand lifted with uncharacteristic hesitation, deciding to land on his shoulder. A reassuring squeeze followed.

Victor doesn't brush it away, even when the voice in his head urges him to. "They will live, within us, as long as their memories remain."

"I should take my leave." Despite his declaration, he doesn't pull his hand away. Neither does he stop Victor from grasping his other hand, lifting it slightly in a display suiting of a gentlemen, caressing the knuckles.

"Stay a little longer, Sasha."

The last word held the weight of the world, turning the air heavy as it was said, for the implications it contained were mutually understood by the two of them. A silent agreement came into fruition.

Where initially it merely laid on his shoulder, it quickly broke through the facade of politeness as Saburov's hand slid up his collarbone. Calloused fingertips brushing against the exposed skin, thumb pressing down on the jugular notch, the tender flesh easily dipping down under his touch, feeling the pulsing of his veins.

Moving up his neck, placing a subtle restriction on the other's air flow, brushing the underside of Victor's jaw with his knuckles. Taking one step closer to him, now cupping the side of his face ever so delicately.

Despite its small transgressions, Victor welcomed the other's hand all the same. Turning his head to the side, burying his lips under the other's palm. A small kiss placed on the inside of the index finger, moving to the middle finger with another light kiss, feeling the thumb digging its nail harshly against the other side of his face just as Victor's lips caressed the ring finger.

Expression as indifferent as ever, Victor was met with fury painted across the other's face. Not directed at him in particular, more an unintended side effect of some internal turmoil the other must be undergoing.

A guilty conscience suited the governor, Victor decided, the contempt in his eyes, the deepening wrinkles around his mouth, the subtle frown to his lips. It was a sight to behold.

The golden ring twinkled under the room's light, shiny and well-maintained. Likewise Kain's bright eyes rivaled it in glimmer, so close against one another.

Victor could never let him know, Saburov must never find out about the thoughts swarming his mind. How one insignificant apology from the governor lips extended a live wire to his heart.

The contrast of the cold precious metal and the alluring heat of soft inviting lips both pressing against his own finger made Saburov's stomach twisted around itself, a bitter taste at the back of his throat. The overwhelming sickening sweetness of sin.

Not a single word spoken as their lips parted to meet one another halfway through. A cautious kiss, wary movements and half-shut eyes. Hyper-aware of every sound contained within the building, of any resemblance to a door squeek, a floorboard creek, of an uninvited guest.

Of the faint footsteps constantly sounding from the upper floor.

Hearts racing too fast to take notice of the other's taste, bodies an inch shy away from pressing against one another, an invisible line they dare not cross yet.

Despite all his sharp words and angular edges, the governor kissed so sweetly, so off-puttingly sensual, considerate in his every move. Polite lips silently asking for permission as if treading on glass, gradually easing the other person into it. Akin to the first kiss at the altar.

It Made Victor wonder if the other ever kissed anyone besides his wife.

It must be that Alexander doesn't know any better, has never learnt any other way to kiss, for all who he's ever laid his lips upon consisted of delicate petals and fragile bones, soft perfumed skin and dainty painted lips.

Katerina was never suited for the dark, not like his own wife was, never like Nina's wild nature.

Victor misses it, the metallic taste of blood on his bruised lips, the hint of black cherry wine at the tip of her tongue, how intrusive it was in movement, slithering inbetween his lips and pushing against his own tongue as if invading his mouth. He was always content to surrender to her. Merely another piece of him to offer up in worship. To plant her flag atop and declare ownership, for the sharp nails dragging down his back and the teeth marks littering his neck can attest to that.

Victor misses her.

The memories swirling around in his brain reignite the hunger in his soul, the faded urges and desires reconstructing themselves.

Closing the distance between them—feeling Saburov's body turn rigid at the sudden proximity. Victor wrapped his arms over the other's shoulders, rendering himself in a complete ease of access, practically inviting the other to feel up his body, and grope him like a piece of meat on display.

Yet, no wandering hands came, much to Victor's displeasure.

The logical conclusion he reached was to push things further in hopes of swaying Saburov into seeing things his way.

Deepening the kiss, teeth grazing Saburov's lips, holding the promise of digging into the tender flesh. Paving the way to force his tongue past the other's lips, further, deeper. Sweeping the roof of his mouth, curling against the other's tongue, meeting all reluctant movements with unwavering intensity.

Victor moved on muscle memory—not his own—in a moment of pure self-indulgence.

To add fuel to the fire, his own leg found a place between the governor's open ones. Pushing his thigh in, parting the hem of the dark coat, pressing against Saburov's most intimate area.

Leaving Alexander aghast at his actions. In all of his life, he never expected such a bold display of obscenity from the younger Kain. What's worse, the burning shame coiling in his chest at the rising tent in his pants. Victor's thighs were nothing like his wife's, never plush or plump, more muscular and toned, devoid of anything that would resemble a speck of femininity. So why? Why did they feel nothing short of heavenly against his body?

The Kains were always shameless.

That must be why Victor knew how to work up another man. That must be why his lips slotted against Alexander's very own dry ones so perfectly; it wasn't his first time doing this.

The Kains were always shameless.

So it's them. It's Victor's influence he should attribute this sodomy to. Not himself, for his proprietary and piety spoke for themselves.

The Kains were always shameless.

Which is precisely why his hands were hovering above the other's hips—so squarish unlike a woman's round ones—trembling fingers unsure of what to grab, of where to land, of how far past the line to cross.

Placing them on the lower end of his back, just a dip below what's appropriate, and a good distance away from any incriminating areas.

Pulling at the fabric of Victor's shirt ever so slowly, pooling the white material in his grasp.

How humbly the younger Kain dressed always bothered him, even his daughter—Maria—wore more extravagant clothes in comparison to how her father paraded around in a simple white dress shirt and black pants. It always felt intentional, this poor taste of a display. What exactly was he trying to prove? Alexander thought. Aiming to make the ruling families appear as shallow people who only ever care about frivolous appearance, by minimising his own wardrobe?

The shirt wrinkled in his fists, the more and more he lifted of it. Melting into the infectious ferventness, kissing the other man back with rivalling passion. Grinding into his thigh, absolved of sin and shame.

What irked Alexander more, were the cuffed sleeves exposing his arms, the pale skin giving way to visible veins—ones his eyes couldn't help but trace. Thin wrists curving into slender fingers, precise in their every movement, dextrous enough to tinker with the innerworkings of clocks, nimble to vivisect the mechanical guts of the most delicate machinery.

The clock in their house was made by him. It has broken before. He has seen the younger Kain get down on his knees, carefully holding the thinnest of tools between two fingers to realign the cogs to the correct position. That scene was burnt into his memory from that day on forward.

Until the very hem of Victor's shirt was added to the pile. completely exposing his back.

Maybe he should gift Victor a suit, a proper one. The many layers and extravagant fabric are sure to shatter any false image of a humble saint Victor fooled the people into constructing about him. With how much the Kains idolised etiquette and aesthetics, pressurising him to wear it would be a task even a child is capable of. Afterall, it's only proper to wear a gift someone of high importance has given you. Of course... the colours would need to compliment his complexion, the pattern should suit his height, the pocket square should match the divine colour of his eyes—made of silk no less.

The exposed skin tempting Alexander into running his hand atop it, tracing the spine in the centre of the other's bare back, feeling up the his shoulder blades, and pull him closer against his own body.

Only the last part he manages, a half shirtless Victor Kain pressed against the outer coat of the governor.

Alexander thought about feeling up his stomach, cupping his flat chest. Would he enjoy a thumb twirling against his nipple like a woman does? Would he have a reaction to his palm pressing against the naval below his stomach, where a womb should be.

Katerina does.

Saburov's hips unconsciously push into Victor's thigh, grinding back into them. The arms around his neck tightened, Victor's lips hungry and unsatisfied, still seeking more of him.

How beautifully she gave in under him, how sweetly she reacted to his every touch. Her moans a melody to his ears, the most angelic of sounds pouring from her lips with his head buried between her thighs. Alexander is not one for arrogance, but the one thing he allowed himself to flourish in pride about, is how hard he tries to be the epitome of a dutiful husband. He has never looked at Katerina with anything but love in his eyes, he has never neglected her needs, nor demanded more than she had energy for. Memorising all of her favourite spots, spoiling his lover rotten in and out of bed. Bringing her to the heights of pleasure while holding her hand, showering her in kisses, tending to her in the aftermath.

Alexander's body finally gives in, tension leaving his jaw as he welcomes the other's tongue inside. Melting into Victor's embrace, walls lowering down, a tired look in his eyes.

A faint sound resembling a whine slips through his guard, Victor swallows it up. Neither of them acknowledge it further.

They've been sleeping in seperate bedrooms for how many years... it felt like an eternity to Saburov. Memories, all he has are memories of her flowery perfume, of messy black strands framing her face like a halo on the pillow.

But she's alive, safe and sound in her bedroom–once their shared bedroom. And that's enough, to kiss her hand is enough, the fleeting hugs are enough, to love her from afar is enough. To ask for more would be greed.

Victor is uncharted territory, mentally and physically. Saburov has no guarantee that this isn't just some elaborate plan to take advantage of a moment of weakness from the governor... But then, what kind of plan would include dragging your own family name through the mud as well?

It feels surreal, to do something out of the pure desire to do it. He has gotten so used to the game of chess that is ruling this town, he has forgotten he is human at all.

That the Kains are humans, no matter how hard they try to sprout wings and break free of this proclaimed larva stage. To transcend the limits of flesh and blood, in Saburov's eyes, nothing but a kids' pretend game of Gods.

It's been far too long, and there's a warm body in front of him. A Kain's. A man who presumably done it with many other men before him.

But even then, even here, they can't be free of the discreet struggle for power. Alexander is out of his element, Victor is not. The control is slipping away from his fingertips; he must regain it back.

His hands are rough, calloused palms and faded burn marks of an incident long past. One he keeps tracing up and down the naked back of Victor, feeling the growing shivers. The other he brings inbetween them, cupping between Victor's legs, over the fabric of his pants, feeling the protuding bulge twitch at the contact.

There's a curious look in Victor's eyes. Breaking the kiss, a thin line of saliva forms for a second before it falls apart. Victor can't reach the other's neck with his knotted scarf in the way, so he settled for littering the side of his face with smalls kisses and kitten licks. Going from a completely obscene makeout to the most innocent form of kisses without a trace of irony gives the governor a pause, as the realisation of how begrudgingly into it he is, dawns on him.

The faux innocence Victor plays up, the soft cheek kisses, the intimate brushing of his nose against the other, the adorable nibbling on his earlobe. It should disgust him, not invigorate him even more. Those sultry eyes held nothing but sin in their depth, who is he to act to innocuous and pure while grinding his thigh against Alexander's clothed cock.

Worse is the knowing look in the Victor's gaze. As if he digged up some hidden secret he held no shame to abuse. Saburov should've know those curious eyes never spelt anything but trouble.

His mind is slipping away from him. To say he enjoyed the faux coy act of the other would be the underestimation of the century. He enjoys it so much, he is beyond horrified at himself when the other whispers sweet nothing into his ear.

"You're doing so well, my little dove."

As if setting his face on fire, little should fluster a grown man of his age these days. But to hear those endearing words in the younger Kain's voice? It was like a harsh shove over the edge. A fast approaching climax, cock twitching with every small kiss Victor Kain skirted around his ear. Cock pulsing with the thrum of his heartbeat. A final push of Victor's thigh against it was all that it took for wetness to seep through, staining the other's pants in a translucent white.

Stifling the groan following his climax took all of his willpower. Reduced to finishing in his own pants, all wounded ego, overwhelmed libido, and fast racing heart, Alexander Saburov will never forgive the other man for this.

He needs to shut him up, and fast.

Biting Victor's neck is out of the question. It's simply uncouth, it's not who he is, and it will never be something he'll do. The closest he's done was paint his wife's neck with kisses, but even then he was careful not to leave a bruise.

Well, a Kain is not worthy of such courtesy.

For the younger Kain walked around everywhere with the top button always undone, exposing his own collarbone like a whore. Maybe this will teach Victor some manners, even if the other man is 14 years his senior, Alexander's still his governor, and being the brother of that whimsical child Georgiy is all Victor will ever amount to.

Gripping harsher against the tent at the front of his pants, rubbing punishingly fast. The intense friction is everything Victor missed having, pressing himself harder into the other's hand, encouraging Saburov down this path of roughness.

And when the other's lips wrapped around a bare patch of skin on Victor's neck and sucked hard, it was the feeling of a hickey forming that completely flooded his brain with long-forgotten euphoria. Hips stuttering in their movement, left gasping for air under Saburov's stern gaze. Deliberately holding eye contact as the waves of pleasure went through the younger Kain.

Coming down from the height of pleasures, like breaking free of a trance, mutual dread formed a pit at the bottom of their stomachs. They wanted nothing more than to push the other away, bury this under the rug, and never face one another ever again.

But they stayed in each other's arms, holding one another. They stayed despite the despair chipping at corners of their minds.

For Alexander it was a case of principles, he's not one for clumsy rushed sex where he abandons a partner after getting his fill. The discipline embedded within him, the duty he adheres to, whether he wanted or not.

For Victor, it was a matter of pride, he's not one to curl away in shame and fear in the aftermath of an event. The Kains abhor self-flagellation, once an axe swings, you must always follow and see it to the end, no matter how trifling or impious.

High emotions simmered down as the moment passed, carefully unwrapping themselves from one another. High emotions simmered down as the moment passed, carefully unwrapping themselves from one another.

Saburov's hand found the other's waist, unsure of the next course of action; he usually took his wife to soak in a warm lavender scented bath, how Katerina would always coax him into joining her, how easily his self-will faltered when it came to her requests. For such a woman with a gloomy reputation, the absurd amount of bubbles in her every bath amused him to no end. He'd wash her hair, and she'd hum a melody, softly echoing against the bathroom tiles.

But it feels improper for this situation, seeing as he's not under his own roof.

As for Victor, he couldn't help but eye the silver tray on his desk, recalling how in every aftermath, his wife would bring him a warm cup of tea in bed. For all the wicked titles and horrible names the townsfolk called her by, none would believe the very same Sinister Nina would massage the knots out of his shoulders, soothe any bite marks, and hug his face close to her chest as he drifted into slumber.

Too bad he's in a state of mourning, unable to eat or drink out of respect for Simon's last request.

Alexander settled for coaxing the other back into his chair instead, Victor offered a small word of gratitude in response. Hearing his still breathless voice, Alexander attempted to seem unaffected. Pretending the memory of his pleasure-filled gasp hasn't been etched into his mind.

With Saburov, his coat easily covered any shameful spots or remains on his pants. While the younger Kain was a complete mess, his utter being glaring evidence of what went down in this room.

From his ridden up wrinkled shirt, to the two damp patches on his pants, one on his thigh, and the other belonging to him. The flushed face and half-lidded eyes, the completely exposed neck with a singular hickey far down.

God, Saburov thought, even if you took away the ruined clothes, his sinful face completely incriminated him. The usually indifferent tone replaced by a clement one, intimacy residing in each syllable. The somber never-changing facial expression somehow morphed into a hungry lustful look more fitting those barely clothed dancers in the pub.

He's not into men; he can't be. For no other man has ever looked at him like Victor does. No other man ever made his imagination run wild from the simplest of actions. No other man drove him this close to the brink of insanity like the younger Kain.

He has no attraction to men—he justified—for Victor Kain is an outlier amongst men. In fact, Saburov is sure that if he dressed him up in a soft blue nightgown, adorned his cheeks with blush and painted pink across his lips, then surely that'll make any honest man question his orientation.

For he is not to blame, it's the Kains who are always shameless. The irresistible siren's call has drowned many men better than him. For all of Victor's virtues, he remains Nina's husband, the very same Nina that could force blood from a stone. She must've done something to him, broke something that made him... so enticing to those he shouldn't be with.

Neither of them were truly satisfied with ending it here, longing for more, starved for one another's touch, for at least a full night of passion, to get their fill of one another's embrace.

"I should take my leave." Alexander repeated, for the second time this day.

Victor stood up again, and like clockwork, Saburov's hand found its way to his waist "I would offer to walk you to the door, governor, but as it stands I'm currently indisposed."

"Do stay where you are, and compose yourself, that dear Bachelor of yours will be making rounds today."

"I'll keep your words in mind"

An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at Saburov's core, the thought of turning around and leaving just like this didn't sit right with him.

Wordlessly, he cupped the other's face, mimicking what he did at the start. Moving closer, slightly parted lips pressing into Victor's. A tender kiss, too short for the other's liking, too sweet, too delicate.

Everything Nina was not.

Everything Alexander is to Katerina.

The hand should dig into his waist, not hold it like he's made of porcelain that'd crack under the smallest of forces. The kiss should steal his breath away, toy with the notion of choking him to death before granting her mercy, intead it was pitying almost, like kissing the coffin of a dead spouse.

Most of all, it showcased how brittle Victor's influnce was on him, for Alexander all but immediately reverted back to his old habits.

Ending far too soon, a bittersweet goodbye. "Send a carrier to inform me of when the funeral will be taking place. My wife would like to attend and pay her respects for Simon."

"I will, do send my regards for Katerina."

Adjusting his coat, the governor took his leave. The handle turns with a squeek, the floorboards creek, the door clicks shut again.

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

Ten thirty-eight.

Picking up the silver tray, Victor went to reheat the kettle. Cinnamon tea with a sprinkle of sugar, her favourite. Walking upstairs for a change of clothes shortly after.

A quarter to eleven.

Back in his office, sitting in his chair, staring blankly at the death certificate of an immortal man, awaiting his signature.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

[twstfanblog]

*~Family Feud~*

AN: This has been done for DAYS I just didn't get a chance to read it over because I dropped two outfit descriptions in this and I wanted to draw them out. Instead, I decided to get this out and stop hoarding it. XD

Also an introduction to one of my Twist OC's I'll do my best to get a proper bio of him and link it at a later date.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, Disregard of adopted family, She/They Yuu OC. My own canon of Silver's backstory mixed with canon.

Pairings: Mallus x Yuu

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1(Pomefiore), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Here)

Diasomnia was strangely desolate, something that Louis wasn't really expecting. He would have thought the dorm would reflect Briar Valley. The times he'd seen the valley, it was full of lush vegetation, life seeming to spill out of every corner. The only place that looked vaguely like these densely packed dead woods was the royal castle of the Draconia’s. But, even then, the castle had a beautiful rose garden. At the thought of the Briar royalty he scowled, his resolve only growing as he stomped through the woods. Eyes roaming through the trees looking for someone.

Louis Durand was the eldest son and crown prince of Ulstead, one of the longest-standing royal families of Twisted Wonderland. Honey-blonde hair and aurora-colored eyes showing his heritage of the Knight of Dawn. His light-plated iron clinked, gold and iron mix giving off a pale sunshine hue, added protection from his basic princely attire. Long hair braided back and pinned with his family’s crest acting as a crown.

Soon he finds someone, his eyes widening before a smile breaks out on his face. He picks up his pace seeing the figure under the tree slowly open his eyes. Silver hair and dressed in a black and green military uniform, Louis couldn’t keep his voice quiet as he ran closer, " Beau!"

Matching aurora eyes snap open at the name. Silver sighs under his breath, not sure if staying asleep would be better or worse in this situation. Instead, he stood up, waiting for the prince to reach him and for the common argument to start.

Malleus walked with Yuu, smiling at the pout on the human's face, "Why are you so upset, my dear? It's a lovely day and I have you all to myself. Why the long face?" In hand was his spinning wheel wand. He didn’t have his pen in such form normally, But while in his dorm uniform, the staff was perfect for the overall look. Plus, it felt good to wear such regal wear with his child of man in their own new dorm uniform of Ramshackle.

Lilia himself was delighted seeing the outfit, saying Yuu looked like a troublesome fairy he had a run-in with long ago. A light tealish green button-up shirt with bluebell-shaped sleeves. A darker grey-teal vest over the shirt, a series of leather belts wrapped around their waist to hold an assortment of things, one of which being a bag of marbles. (For purposes Yuu told the others.) The vest had multiple tail ends, layering into a rough jagged line like the edge of a leaf. Leggings patterned with asymmetrical lines to mirror shattered glass. The look was pulled together with a pair of leather pirate-style boots that folded over their knees and a worn-looking navy captain’s hat, refurbished lightly to match the color of their dorm better.

Malleus himself could see what Lilia meant when Yuu wore their new uniform. Though it was a collaborative design by Divus and Yuu, the final result came out very close to the common fashion of Briar Valley. And with their temper and short stature (Compared to him), Yuu truly reminded him of the trickster fairies of the woods. Oh, the times Malleus had to keep Silver from being led astray by little wings of glitter. At the very least, Yuu gave kisses instead of deceiving the innocent…Well, Yuu does the same but it was normally unlethal. Now looking down at his lover, he smiles, tilting his head at the pouting human. He wonders if he could get away with calling them a pixie. He chuckles, raising an arm to place around their shoulders, “Come, let me hold you.”

Yuu huffs, leaning away from Malleus' arm as he tries to bring them closer. They glare at the tall fae, crossing their arms across their chest, "You know very well I wanted to meet your grandma. And you have the gall to stand there, looking cute, and call me over here after you already sent her home!"

The laugh Malleus let out was loud like thunder, it would almost be threatening if not for the warmth in his smile. He leans down, forehead resting on Yuu's as he looked into their eyes, "Are you truly upset you couldn't meet my grandmother? Or are you upset you haven't been able to embarrass me in front of my maternal figure like you've done your other lovers?"

They scoff, turning around to walk away from Malleus, but didn't try to move when he wrapped his arm around them. Yuu rested against his chest, sighing forlornly as they placed their hand over their forehead, "All I ask is to look into your grandmother and have her look back at me…"

"..." Malleus laughs, standing up and moving Yuu to face him directly, "You know, I may consider introducing you to my grandmother more if you stopped insinuating she is the void."

"Have you ever seen your grandmother and the void in the same room? I haven't." They laugh at Malleus' smile, pulling him down and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Giving him another seeing how the fae beamed under the physical affection.

Their sweet moment was interrupted by shouting, the sound of it getting closer and closer. Sharing a look, Malleus stands back to full height, a hand placed on the middle of Yuu’s back, the two of them walking toward the sounds of arguing.

"-before someone sees us, we should go!"

"Louis, please just go. I'm not having this argument with you again…"

Yuu blinks at the unknown boy trying to pull Silver through the woods, the gray-haired boy digging his heels into the dirt. Silver looked more annoyed than distressed at the manhandling, but, Yuu still pulled her golf club from the back holster Crewel had designed for them, "Hey! The fuck’s going on here?"

Her shout was enough for the both of them to look over in surprise, giving Silver the chance to finally slip out of the mystery boy's hold. The 2nd year was quick to join them, standing just slightly behind Malleus on his side in his normal position as a retainer. For whatever reason it made the boy glare, frowning fiercely at Malleus.

"Still insulting the Ulstead crown with your display, I see. He should be in jewels and celebrated! Not set to the side to be forgotten and overlooked by your people!"

Malleus' mirthful attitude was gone, a bored look on his face as he looked down his nose at the armor-clad boy.

Seeing Malleus wasn’t going to grace the stranger with an answer, Yuu spoke up. Their golf club swinging lazily to tap against their calf, "While I agree Silver is a national treasure, you can't just be grabbing and dragging people around like they owe you money."

The stranger opens his mouth, poised to start yelling at them too before he freezes. Looking at them, his eyes widen in shock, "You're human?"

"Good eyes, now explain yourself-"

"Fair maiden you must come with me at once! This land of fae and fowl isn't safe nor suitable for humans!" He reached out, moving to grab onto Yuu's wrist only to be forced back by a crackle of green lightning. 

Yuu was just as surprised, blinking when Silver pulled them farther behind Malleus and missing the prominent anger in the fae's eyes as dark clouds began to gather above them.

Malleus’s eyes seemed to glow the darker the area became, his face a deadly edge of sober as he tilted his head slightly, "You dare try to abscond with my treasures? I would think your family knows a dragon does not give from their hoard so lightly…"

The stranger matched Malleus' expression, taking a step forward before he was interrupted by Silver sighing.

"Louis. Please. Just go home. I've long made my choice and I would like it if you and your family to respect it."

“They’re our family!” Louis' face crumbles, a hand reaching out in a pleading motion toward Silver, " Beau, please just come home with me. We can talk this out with the family and see if you've been cursed like father thinks. If all is well we can go from there."

Yuu casts a confused look toward Silver, raising an eyebrow, "Beau?"

Silver shakes his head, not wanting to explain, missing Malleus locking eyes with Louis. A smug smirk grew on the fae’s face before he spoke.

" I would like it if you left my brother be. He doesn't wish to speak to you."

"He is not your brother you accursed, bastard!"

"Now, now. There's no need for all of this yelling…"

Lilia dropped down from above a few paces away. Instead of his normal dorm uniform, he wore a tight thorn pattern long-sleeve top, the high neckline hidden by a false collar and a bright green tie with a complex-looking knot. Long pants tucked into knee-length lace-up boots. His oversized jacket was replaced with an open-back vest in the dorm colors, long coattails trailing behind him. The look pulled together with his normal dorm accessories, the vest showing off the spiked spine brace the Diasomnia students regularly wear.

His youthful face was strangely in a neutral expression. He looks to Louis, not even flinching at the glare. Turning to him fully, Lilia gives a polite smile, trying to calm the enraged boy, "Prince Louis. I understand the campus is open to all visitors. But, you are aware Silver doesn't wish to speak to you or the other Ulstead royals unless it is at the yearly treaty festival or you’ve called ahead of time."

Louis stomps forward, getting directly in Lilia's face to snarl, "His name is Beau, you thief!"

"Enough!" Silver steps forward, standing beside Lilia and only stopping at the hand gripping his arm, keeping him closer to Lilia, "I will not let you talk to my father like this."

"He isn't your father!" Louis looks to Silver, eyes pleading, "Beau, no matter what they've told you, they're lying to you. They aren't your true family and all we want is for you to come home to us…"

Silver’s face clenches, almost winning in the fight to not grimace. His fists ball up at his sides, turning his head away from Louis as he muttered, “Who I care for isn’t your choice to make…”

Lilia glances at Silver from the corner of his eye. Seeing Silver's anger, he opened his mouth to calm his son, only to have Louis speak before him.

"He won't love you like a real father would. You know that. You'll be dead and gone long before he even has time to care about you."

That was enough to make Silver crumble, the 2nd year hunching into himself hoping to hide away from the other's hurtful words.

The sound of thunder and lightning was deafening. The dark clouds overhead that had eclipsed the sun were almost meaningless as a single bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds, striking dangerously close to the group. Both of which were ignored by Lilia, scooping Silver into his arms. 

Placing the taller boy onto his hip and supporting his legs while glaring at the human prince, "If you'll excuse us, my son seems to be under the weather. I'm going to get him inside to rest."

Lilia doesn't look back, walking away like Silver weighed less than nothing in his hold. Even with his confused expression, Silver soon relaxed, properly latching onto his father and resting his head against the top of Lilia's hair.

Yuu looks over to Louis, frowning at the other human's intense glare at the retreating figures, "You know, as a fellow human? That was extremely fucked up, you know that, right? Like severely fucked."

"I quite agree with my child of man." Malleus' face was stone cold, his tinted lips curling over a fang as he snarled, "It was fucked."

“What’s fucked,” Louis somehow made the vitriol in his voice even harsher, eyes glaring into Malleus’ cold green iris, “Is stealing a prince and making him a guard to the enemy of his nation.”

Malleus leans in, a small smile showing his fangs as he spoke in a soft mocking tone, “He wasn’t stolen by fae hands. Nor are we enemies, the treaty was signed nearly 20 years ago Prince Durand.” His smile drops, voice almost a growl, “You’d do well to remember that.”

Louis’ hand reached toward his sword, managing to draw it out only a few inches before a force slammed into the hilt of the blade, forcing it back into the sheath. The head of a golf club resting on top of the rounded metal of the weapon, Yuu’s dark eyes glaring into his own morning dews, the silent promise clear in their actions. He huffed, his glare only barely softening as he addressed Yuu, “Stand down, maiden. I don’t know why you’ve allied yourself with this fae, but he is not to be trusted.”

“With all disrespect? What I do with the future father of my child is none of your business.”

Malleus’ magic forms around Yuu faster than she could swing and faster than Louis could grab her. The green aura glittered around her, lifting Yuu into the air and away from the human’s out-reaching hand. Louis glared at the prince, his hand clenching into the open air.

Louis closes his eyes, trying to calm his breathing before looking up at Yuu, “You…Miss, you can’t be serious! The Draconia family is founded on the wicked deeds of the Thorn Fairy herself! To be a human and want to continue that line-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Yuu was now lounging in the air, golf club resting over their crossed legs, “I’m going to do my best to be…polite with my reasonings. I don’t care, I just don’t care. I like Malleus, so I find no issue in doing him this kindness as his close platonic-romantic friend-soulmate. The choices I made to carry the potential apocalypse baby are just that. My choices. Just like Silver apparently chose to be Silver instead of Beau. Learn to live with it. Cope, seethe even. But don’t make it our problem when clearly you’re the only one bothered.”

The expression on Louis’ face was odd. A strange mixture of anger yet heartbreak, the type of look that spoke of internal struggle. Yuu almost had enough time to feel bad, opening their mouth to give some kind of comfort, before the human royal’s face steels.

Louis stepped back, rolling his shoulders into the proper position and looking into Malleus’ eyes with a neutral expression, “Apologies for my outburst Prince Draconia. I will take what you said into consideration. Good day to you and your…” His face fights against the sneer he wants to pull, “Consort…Good day.” With that, he spins in his iron-plated heel, stomping his way back toward the dorm’s mirror.

“...” Yuu turns to Malleus, still floating in the air, “Put me down.” Malleus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis until he was well in the distance, “Why…?” “I’m gonna beat his ass.”

A smile breaks across his face, looking out from the corner of his eye to see the glare on the prefect. Yuu never failed to entertain, always having a gesture or words that would pull him from sour moods and episodes of sorrow. Be it a physical reminder of their friendship or a verbal assurance of their shared devotions, Yuu always made him smile, even when he didn’t want to.

Malleus shakes his head,  “No. You have no need to engage in combat with the likes of him. You are my consort after all.” He starts to walk toward the dorm, keeping Yuu suspended in the air with his magic. In their current mood, they were more likely to ignore his words and chase the prince down than listen. His thoughts reminded him of Silver and Lilia’s emotional states, the urge to check on them growing once Louis’ presence was fully gone.

“Oh, is that gonna be your new favorite word? Because you’re gonna make Jamil and Azul jealous. They can only call me ‘girlfriend’ for now.”

“I suppose they can cope then. Seethe even.”

“Stop stealing my words! You make it sound so much fancier when you say it.”

Malleus chuckles, bringing Yuu closer to place another kiss against their cheek, “Cope.”

Diasomnia’s dorm was massive, scary, and regal. It was also peacefully quiet when Malleus and Yuu walked inside. The families that were chatting away in the common area had all vacated, leaving the room bare except for Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. The pearly-haired human was sleeping, head resting on Lilia’s lap while the short fae caressed his hair.

Walking to the couch, Yuu sat beside Lilia, Malleus taking the armchair that Sebek instantly jumped up to stand beside.

"So I have to ask, why the outfit change?"

Giggling, Lilia turned to look at Yuu, a sneaky smile on his face, "While I normally, as you say 'serve cunt', I decided to change into something semi-respectable since I knew visitors of the valley were coming." He gestures mildly to his new outfit, "As such I picked something that echoes my old war armor."

“Well you failed, you’re still serving cunt, good sir. But next question…Who was his royal dick?” Yuu asks, their voice hushed even though they knew Silver wasn’t going to wake up with anything less than Sebek screaming in his face.

Lilia sighs, “Prince Louis Durand. Crown prince of Ulstead and…” He sighs again, the force of it almost fully deflating him, “And Silver’s twin.”

“He has one of those?”

Sebek scoffs, rolling his eyes but refusing to say anything. He grew up dealing with the human prince’s numerous visits. Louis would do everything he could to exclude Sebek, but Silver was just as vigilant in making sure he was involved. Once, Silver held onto Sebek’s hand and refused to let go for the whole visit. It took both Baul and Lilia to pull them apart once Louis had left, Silver claiming he couldn’t unclench his hand.

“Yes…It’s a long story, but by fae laws Silver is mine and his blood family isn’t too happy about it.”

Yuu tilted their head, “I wouldn’t be either, this is extremely suspicious. Lilia, you said you found Silver on the ground.”

“I-” Lilia realizes what Yuu was insinuating, snapping his face up to pout at the prefect, “I did.”

“Lilia, how do you find a baby prince on a random forest floor?”

The pink-haired fae huffs, arms wrapping tighter around Silver’s sleeping form, “Well, I did! Believe me or not, I found him fair and square. He even picked me over them so they have no right to complain…”

Yuu smiled, always loving to pick at Lilia when the older fae would get annoyed with her, “Your story is falling apart. Did the baby pick you or did you find him, Lilia? What is it you want me to believe?”

Lilia was fast, a hand reaching out and pinching Yuu’s ear to tug on it. He hisses out a shush while she squirms in his hold, “Hush, let me tell you what happened…”

Silver was led to the palace throne room, his small hand gripping onto Sir Baul's as the old fae stared ahead. He was stern as usual when he came to collect him, but the look he had when he called Silver made his stomach twist. Sebek had gone quiet again, only waving goodbye as Baul led him from the room. He didn't know what was happening as the double doors of the throne room opened. On one side of the room stood his father and on the other side stood a group of strangers wearing the same colors as the people who stormed their home. 

Days ago, he and his father had to flee to the palace when a group of human knights broke down their door in the middle of the night. Silver had never felt such terror, watching his father fight off a squad of intruders before scooping him into his arms. He had jumped from the bedroom window, Silver only in his pajamas and Lilia still smelling of burning flesh from iron as he sprinted into the woods.

They reached the palace, a number of fae knights riding into the woods at his father's report. He wasn't proud of it, but he cried when he had to leave his father's arms. The short fae smiled and teased him, saying he was only getting bandaged and to not be so silly. He was sulking about later in his brother's  Malleus’ arms. He was six years old, he shouldn't be crying as such anymore.

Over the next few days, Silver was with Malleus for most of the day. Sebek joined them and was oddly soft-spoken, the younger boy looking at him pained and heartbroken but wouldn't tell him why. He would hear voices echoing in shouts in the halls, unknown knights staring at him. Their eyes made him nervous before Malleus whisked him away. But now, in the throne room, Malleus was standing beside the queen, looking upset and refusing to meet his eyes. Even father wouldn’t look at him, only the glamourously dressed family standing on the other side of the room would look toward him.

Her Majesty spoke, her voice an odd mix of cold yet cordial, “Silver-”

The unknown woman, who Silver now realized also had a crown in her braided warm brown hair, snapped. Her soft smile turned into a vicious frown as she rounded to the Queen, “His name is Beau.”

Her Majesty simply sighed, just barely keeping from rolling her eyes, a hand held up to calm the guards and Malleus, “Child. You are being offered a choice on this day. It is your choice alone if you return home with either Lilia Vanrouge or the royal family of Ulstead, the Durands. Make your decision judicially, you will not gain another.”

…

Silver looked over to the strangers. Whatever anger the woman had felt was gone, leaving behind a kind person who reached out to him before pulling her hand back to her chest. Looking at them closely, he fully saw just how lavish their clothing was, soft and bright colors unfound in the valley since so many made their living working with nature or potions (It’d get dirty so quickly). Delicate light fabrics with sewn-in gems and woven gold threads. They looked at him with such hope. Around them, guards of that knight stood showing chests of gold shiny board swords and armor. A boy who looked so similar yet different from him smiled, a stuffed bear held tightly in his arms.

He waved, bowing his head in a show of respect for the visiting royalty, but the beaming grins they gave back to him didn’t ease the discomfort he felt. He was sure the woman was one second away from rushing over to him and taking him in her arms, never to be seen again.

To the other side was his father. Standing silently and still, so unlike himself it made Silver more uncomfortable than the overly friendly strangers. Father stood in just the cloak he had on when they absconded to the palace, the black cloth hiding his body and long hair tied into a low ponytail. He wouldn’t look at him, he wasn’t even smiling. Silver had never seen his father so…impartial. It was frightening, but it only cemented the fact Lilia was his father.

Looking the fae over, Silver’s mind brought to light just how much he knew about his father. He knew the exact cloak he had managed to grab. A flash of yellowish-green peaking from the hood. The fruits of his and Sebek’s sewing lesson from weeks ago. Silver knew in that hood was a crudely stitched-in bat (From when he was in the war his father told him, to keep others from stealing his cloak), a simple bright green oval, a chartreuse blob to mimic a crocodile, and a simple ivory-colored smaller bat. Father always stated it was his lucky cloak. 

Though he tried to hide it, Silver knew his father’s hair was streaked with blocks of white strands. They were debating on which color he was going to dye it next. Silver was so close to convincing him to try orange, he knew it’d look ridiculous, but his father would do it if he could persuade him properly.

And the final secret Silver could easily see was how his father fidgeted with the bracelet he had gifted him. It was something of a nervous tick, the fae would at times look into the distance and simply tape his sharp nails against the seeds. Sometimes Silver worried he would break the charm one day, only to watch the same worry overtake his father would he seemingly tapped too hard.

He wasn’t sure of the severity of this decision, but he had his options and his choice was clear.

Silver squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on his father as he walked towards him. His stride only stops when the woman gives a heartbroken cry of ‘Beau’. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the strange family crumbled, tears gathering in their eyes. The woman all but falls to the floor, being held up by her husband who looks at him in disapproval. The boy’s expression hurts, it’s pleading, heartbroken. Silver strangely felt for him the most, but he couldn’t leave his father to his lonesome.

Before long Silver was standing right in front of Lilia, bright aurora-colored eyes trying to catch glittering magenta ones. Lilia laughs, short and almost damp. He finally looks at Silver, expression pained as he fights back his tears, “You wish to go with me?”

Silver nods, not a moment of hesitation, “I’m ready to go home now father.”

Lilia doesn’t hesitate either. Scooping Silver into his arms, tucking his son’s face into his neck and walking from the chamber at a quick pace. Silver hears chaos engulf the room, the woman from before starting to scream in anger and Her Majesty raising her voice to demand she calms herself. Silver looks up from his father’s collar, catching hauntingly similar aurora eyes before the doors close behind them.

“Of course the Durands never let it rest. Maleficia was honest with them…” Lilia sighed, looking down at a sleeping Silver, “Silver doesn’t count as ‘Stolen by Fae’. As such there was no trade, so no proper test could be given and Silver was left to pick where he went.”

“Did they not…think he would pick you? I mean you were his dad for his whole life…”

Malleus sighed from his chair, eyes gazing into the green fireplace, he hint of annoyance curling his lip, “My grandmother warned them of that likelihood. But they were insistent on Silver knowing he’d want to be with ‘his blood’...” Malleus wouldn’t speak of the shouting match that broke out when Lilia fled the room with Silver. But, he was just as smug when his grandmother smiled and explained to the wailing queen that Silver had made his choice.

“The silly boy really just walked up to me with no doubt in his heart. But, from there, the Durand family was calling at our home near weekly.” Lilia sighs, remembering the string of panic attacks he’d gain waking up to iron-clad knights banging on his cottage's front door. The number of letters he’d start to just burn in the fireplace, each one detailing and painting him as a wicked being for stealing a vulnerable infant from his loving home.

Yuu scoffed, leaning back into the couch, “What? So they just show up every few days to bother you guys and shout that you’re not a real family?”

“Not nearly as much as before. But basically.” Sebek sighed, shaking his head in mild irritation, “The king and queen have stopped coming so often, only at the yearly Peace Treaty celebration held at our borders.”

“They stopped visiting around Silver’s 10th birthday…Louis still spends his summers camped out in the woods with his posse.” Malleus pouts, the windows darkening as his mood briefly soured, muttering under his breath, “They keep sending him gifts heavy in iron though…”

Lilia caresses Silver’s head, smiling at his serene face, “Louis always tried so hard to be by Silver the first few visits. He was more docile when beside him, but when anyone tried to detach them, he’d throw such tantrums.”

Malleus looked to Lilia, eyes lidded in annoyance, “Tanturms. Lilia, he stabbed you when you tried to wipe Silver’s face.”

Lilia waves Malleus’s words off, ignoring Yuu’s surprised laughter, “It didn’t even draw blood. Barely counts as a stab.”

Lilia would never lie, but he never told the whole truth either. He never told Maleficia the truth the night he brought a human baby for her blessing and he thinks he never will. He didn’t lie, he never stole Silver. But, he never told anyone the whole story.

He met the Knight of Dawn the night Maleaonor died, the knight had saved both his and Malleus’ lives. They barely spoke, eyes meeting before the knight turned around. He told him and Baul to run, that he’d deal with whoever entered the tunnel after them.

It’s embarrassing, Lilia thinks to himself sometimes. The fact that simple action was enough to make his heart flutter, in the moment he attributed it to his adrenaline. But he still blushed and whispered under his breath a basic blessing as a thank you.

Lilia thinks he’s cursed to take care of the children of those he loves. He cared about Maleficia for taking him in and then he became Maleanor’s keeper. He loved Maleanor and Revan, Malleus was more his mother’s son than his father’s he’s realizing. And only once his heart fluttered and now he’s staring down at a sobbing infant.

He wasn’t sure why he walked to this old place, taken over by the people who killed his friend and orphaned his charge. But a part of him was happy he did. Two children in a basic bassinet, one sleeping peacefully while the other wailed. How his sibling didn’t wake up worried Lilia, but he decided to tend to the screaming one first.

One blessing later, the baby’s golden hair turned Silver. At least whoever took care of them would be able to tell them apart now. Soon he pulled away from the bassinet, leaving the awake infant to start crying again. It pained him to leave the poor dears, but they were human and he was a fae. He couldn’t look after them properly. So he’d drop a hint to the Human kingdom, something about hearing the sounds of a crying baby in the abandoned ‘First Castle’.

It was easy to connect the dots when the neighboring kingdom spoke of the joyous event of the queen birthing two twin boys. Lilia was fine with that, those boys deserved a happy home full of love and care. One he could not give, not since his own efforts took so long to even hatch Malleus. A human child can’t live as long as it takes for him to muster enough love for a child to be raised on.

But only a week later, walking through the woods in his late-night musings, he hears a familiar cry. In the silver band of moonlight, he finds that same infant crying nestled in the roots of a dying tree. The basic nightgown was gone, the baby simply wrapped in a blanket, though surprisingly a thin gold chain with a familiar golden ring. Lilia so badly wanted to turn and walk away, maybe leave another tip to the humans they seemed to be missing a whole baby.

Instead, the infant cried, tiny pudgy hands reaching out to him for comfort. He really had gotten weak in his old age. Sweeping the baby into his arms he hummed the lullaby he’s been singing for centuries. And as the baby slept in his arms he smiled, walking back to his cottage, “Guess I will be taking care of you after all, aren’t I little one?”

Lilia didn’t take this child. He never even lifted him from that bassinet when he found both of them. This wasn’t kidnapping nor an act of theft. He was simply taking in a child he found in the woods and that’s all anyone had to know.

“Hmm…You need a name…Silver, Like a moonbeam in the dark…” He laughed, pressing a kiss to the soft strands, “And for your hair!”

Lilia wouldn’t tell the whole story, but he didn’t lie. He found Silver in the forest and he was his son.

[thelorelounge]

WEREWOLF MYTHS DEBUNKED (It’s Not All Full Moons and Fur, Folks)

MYTH 1: “Werewolves Only Transform During a Full Moon”

BUSTED: Listen, you’ve been watching too many horror movies. The “full moon = transformation” is so outdated, and honestly, it’s not even universal. In a lot of folklore, werewolves can shift at will — moonlight or no moonlight.

Some versions even let you transform whenever you're angry or stressed (so basically, you’re already halfway there).

Moral of the story: The moon’s not your schedule manager.

MYTH 2: “Werewolves Can’t Control Themselves”

BUSTED: While some versions of werewolf lore focus on losing control during a transformation (hi, The Wolf Man), in many legends, werewolves actually retain their humanity.

They might have intense instincts or primal urges, but they can definitely still think, plan, and — for the most part — make rational decisions. Just because you're part wolf doesn't mean you're doomed to run through the woods biting everyone you see.

Moral: Don't assume that being a werewolf means you lose your social graces. You can still RSVP to dinner parties.

MYTH 3: “A Werewolf’s Bite Turns You Into One”

BUSTED: Okay, this one’s super popular, especially in movies, but it's not always true. In classic folklore, a bite from a werewolf doesn’t automatically turn someone into one.

You could get bitten and just… die. Or you could be cursed for other reasons, like an angry witch or a very bad horoscope. It’s complicated, okay?

Moral: A werewolf bite might just send you to the ER, but no need to stress about becoming one of them unless there’s an actual curse involved.

MYTH 4: “You Can Only Kill a Werewolf with Silver”

BUSTED: The silver bullet myth is, well, a myth — at least in a lot of older werewolf legends. While silver does pop up in modern lore, it wasn't the go-to weapon in all of them.

In fact, some cultures just used regular weapons or magic to kill werewolves. Silver doesn’t have to be your emergency plan. But you know, if you’ve got it, just in case, sure, go for it.

Moral: Don’t just rely on silver if you find yourself face-to-face with a werewolf. A baseball bat might just do the trick.

MYTH 5: “Werewolves Are Always Evil”

BUSTED: Not every werewolf is a bad guy out for blood. There are plenty of folklore stories where werewolves are actually protectors or heroes.

They can be guardians of the forests, warriors against evil forces, or just misunderstood souls who have no desire to harm anyone.

Plus, have you ever seen a werewolf in a flannel shirt? They can look cozy and be totally chill.

Moral: Some werewolves are just regular people who like hiking, eating ramen, and minding their business. You could probably hang out. Maybe skip the garlic bread at dinner, though.

MYTH 6: “Werewolves Can’t Be Humans Again After Transformation”

BUSTED: Many legends feature werewolves who can change back into humans at will, especially if they’re mentally strong or can control their transformations. It’s not always this big dramatic “once you’re a wolf, you’re a wolf forever” situation.

In fact, some folklore says a werewolf can just shed their wolf form like a bad haircut and go back to their human selves whenever they feel like it. That’s confidence, folks.

Moral: It's not always a wolf forever vibe. Maybe the wolf life isn't your aesthetic, and that's perfectly fine.

MYTH 7: “Werewolves Are Just Humans with Fur and Teeth”

BUSTED: Okay, some of the evolution of the werewolf myth says they’re just regular humans that transform, but in many cultures, werewolves are actual hybrid creatures — think wolf-human combos, or even fully monstrous beings with extra claws, red eyes, and really bad attitude.

They’re not just giant humans in fursuits. Think more along the lines of the Bigfoot meets the Hulk vibe.

Moral: When it’s wolf time, don’t expect a suave dude with a little extra hair on his chest. It’s going to get wild.

MYTH 8: “Werewolves Are Always Super Strong and Invincible”

BUSTED: Not every werewolf is a giant superhuman with the strength to destroy entire villages. Some werewolves are just your average human with some rage issues and a bad sense of timing when it comes to full moons.

Many stories include werewolves who can be overpowered by a normal human with some quick thinking, like, say, a crossbow or running faster.

Moral: If you see a werewolf and it looks like it’s just going through some stuff, you might be able to beat it in a race. Don’t bet your life on it, but hey, give it a shot.

MYTH 9: “Being Bitten by a Werewolf Means You’re Doomed to Become One”

BUSTED: Remember earlier when we busted the "bite to become one" myth? Well, here’s the extra fun fact: Being bitten by a werewolf might not even turn you into one.

In some versions of the lore, a werewolf’s bite is just… a bite. No magical transformation, no sudden desire to howl at the moon. Maybe you just get a cool scar or an uncontrollable craving for steak.

Moral: If you get bitten by a werewolf, just go to the hospital. We highly recommend NOT assuming you’re going to turn into a werewolf.

MYTH 10: “Werewolves Only Exist in Fiction”

BUSTED: Let’s be real, there are so many cultures that have had legends about humans shifting into wolves, it’s kind of wild (pun intended).

Whether it’s the Norse Úlfheðnar (warriors who could shift into wolves) or ancient Greek myths about Lycaon, werewolves have been part of the human imagination for thousands of years.

Moral: If you think werewolves are just “a cool thing in movies,” you’re wrong. People have been freaked out by them for centuries.

CONCLUSION: So, the next time you hear someone say, “I’m a werewolf” in a dark alley at midnight (probably not the best place to meet a potential friend), just remember: not everything you’ve seen in movies about werewolves is gospel. They’re more complicated than you think. Just make sure they don’t bite you or try to recruit you for their pack.

[brainzzzeater]

Alternative events to marvel's civil war, an nsfw spideypool prompt inspired by Dead Girl Walking

I would love to write this but my knowledge of the civil war event, and the characterization of comic Ironman and Mr. Fantastic is pretty basic. So I want to put this idea out here if anyone is inspired by it! This vision came to me after listening to Dead Girl Walking from the Heathers musical while I was drawing spideypool:

Peter has just rejected Mr. Fantastic's or Iron Man's (or both like a "hey spidey can you meet us here? we need to ask you something" situation) proposition for him to join the hero registration side. I want to think Stark is being his asshole self and not thinking its a big deal which really pisses Peter off since Pete already doesn't really like him, while Reed is trying to be more sympathetic about it since they are friends.

And Peter thinks they have to be another level of stupid to think he would agree to that. Which he says to their face. And a few other choice insults.

Rough section I wrote before giving up:

“You want me to do what?”

The ticking of the clock and low breathes coming from behind Peter’s mask where the only sounds filling the room. Suddenly he became painfully aware of the fabric pressing against his face. Tony Stark and Reed Richards sat in front of Peter in one of the meeting rooms in Stark Tower and their bodies went stiff after hearing his reaction.

Before Reed could begin his long explanation again Tony cut him off, “You have to unmask kid.”

Peter’s heart pounded in his chest with a mix of anger and disbelief. That stupid remark on top of being asked to do something so off limits? He scoffed, “Your joking right?”

It felt like a life time between Reed and Tony sharing a pained look before staying silent again. Clearly not joking.

Peter lifted from his chair, “I can’t just reveal my identity to the world are you insane? I have family and friends to protect. I want my privacy and a normal life! You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Peter you have to understand that you joining our cause could push us to a safer future. You could inspire hundreds to register. Do you not agree that people like us could pose a threat to the world if gone unchecked?”

Peter stopped and clenched his fists tightly. Reed wasn’t wrong, but he wasn't ready to give it all up, to put his family on the line, to give up the few moments of his life where he still felt like a normal person. He gave a slow nod.

“I mean, kid, c’mon. What about your life is normal? At some point you must have known that this…” Tony waved his hand at him, “double life you have been living wasn’t going to last forever.”

Peter clenched his jaw tight, ‘kid’, he was pushing thirty and still getting called a kid by a guy who didn’t even know him. By a guy who's been handed a life on a silver platter. A guy who hasn't walked the streets of the city since the last alien attack.

“Sorry that you keep your head so far up your own ass that you can’t pay attention to the world around you.”

Before he runs away knowing that come tomorrow they will be on the hunt for Spider-Man. On the hunt for Peter Parker.

Insert 1 to 1 dead girl walking scene.

It's fun cause there are a few directions you can go with this like:

Pete and Wade are already dating and Peter just shows up at his place to relieve the stress building up in his head with a doink sesh before they both go into hiding OR,

There was already tension building between them and Peter was like hey fuck it my life is about to be destroyed anyway so I'm going to go confess my attraction to this guy OR,

Mixture of both were Peter goes to Wades place to talk to a friend (who he has not normal feelings for) about what just happened and one shoulder rub to destress leads to "I've got nothing to lose" thoughts and yeahhhhh

I'm probably not going to do anything with this? At least not until I have more free time+read up a little more on the civil war event. But I think some of you guys would like it so do with this information what you will!

[gracebethartacc]

Hewwo! You wanted mlp rw asks I hope you don't mind me putting a buncha stuff in one ask here hehe

- Ramble about CMCs maybe! How do they get their cutie marks? What's changed from canon? Do you have ideas for Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon? Do they ever attend Twilight's school maybe?

- Is Owlowiscious around? Are you keeping all the pets in general? Do you plan to redesign them at all, or are they staying pretty much the same?

- Curious to hear more about the Student Six, at least what you've figured out so far!

- I believe you've said before that the school is kinda just Twilight's thing here and I'd like to hear more about the other mane six's jobs :0 some of them are a bit obvious I guess but I always found it kinda funny that Pinkie's got so many potentials like. She briefly did some babysitting, she often bakes, she's mainly a party planner, etc. But anyway yeah like what are their jobs how're their businesses doing lol and just any notes on that that you might maybe have. Also Starlight I guess like does she have a job?

- Got anything you haven't said yet about the changelings? I know you love them, just kinda wondering if there's any details you've thought of that you've yet to share! Or maybe some little Sunrax headcanons

- Any more worldbuilding notes? More on the magic system in general, or on different locations or species or..? Just uh anything relating more to the world overall

Just stuff from the top of my head I guess. Feel free to ramble as much or as little as you want :3

SMO MANY,,,

1: honestly not many ideas for changes bc I enjoy them as is in canon! I do like them getting their marks simultaneously so I think the episode would moreso have them individually show their talents off in ways/as they help Diamond and the other students, and it would cumulate at the end w them getting their marks! I can have my cake and eat it too they can have matching And individual marks at the same time :3 for more specific stuff uhhh no scoots parents stuff here they just live w their aunts I think their parents would be a soos gravity falls dad situation like they send letters talking about their missions and all as a excuse. As for diamond and silver!! DT I’ve not rlly thought on BUT silver I’m combining with twist, so she used to be apple blooms friend, got her mark, and suddenly DT stopped bullying her and basically friend adopted her now that she was part of the cm havers (her spoon CM/name initially was a baking thing but DT saw it and assumed it was a decorative/fine china kind of thing and SS wasn’t bothered to correct her bc hey she’s being nice to me now)

2: keeping all the pets yes!! I loveee them sm I never thought to redesign them but i definitely will now eeee I love animalsssss grahhhhhh

3: current student six (or well 7) line up!! Yona (goat), Sandbar (Kelpie), Gallus and Gabby (siblings, griffin), Smolder (dragon), Ocellus (flutter pony (changeling/pony hybrid)), and Screwball (Qilin (draconiquus/pony hybrid)(same species as kirin in mythology it’s just a different name/the Chinese interp of the animal so it fills same role as a dragon/horse combo but I don’t step on the mlp kirins toes and shows that disc isn’t a regular dragon ofc)) only change was just changing some species so they’re all non ponies plus got rid of silver stream only because im just. Not a fan of the hypogriffs I don’t even have a reasoning I just have never been a fan of them <\3 plus sandbar is already water themed in name/design so like? Why not just use him? Plus dropping one member have me two slots open for wiggle room (hence gabby and screwy :3)

4: aj has the farm ofc, rainbow is a wonder bolt, rarity has the boutique, flutters in canon has her sanctuary but I can see her opening like a home run vet? Animals coming to her and or ponies w their pets coming to get help, also off topic but idk if I ever mentioned it but my flutters lives in the everyfree! I’d like to think post redemp disc protects her/the domain from the more dangerous animals and in turn protecting ponies coming through to her vet services n all. Pinkie by this point in timeline I can see probably having the knot tied with twi so like you said I can see her with a lot of jobs! I like to think she part times at the bakery as well as her party planning but I think her party planning is more a commission/appointment type schedule vs her bakery helping is more consistent/general, plus her baby sitting was more to me I think just her way of helping the cakes bc they had to run to store vs in this timeskip w their school the cake twins are probably adults or at the least late teens by now (bc the student 7 are teens yeah but like prettyyyyy young teen age range id think, the ship kid duo of ocellus and screwball id think ocellus would be older vs screwy being younger BUT screwball doesn’t have to exactly go on perfect timeline logic bc i hc she was magic made by discord rather than naturally born, so maybe disc proofed her up at a bit older age like 1 year old or so rather than just conjuring up a actual infant LOL yk?) all of that to say pinkies baby sitting isn’t really on the table anymore bc it to me was more just for the cakes (who are basically her second parents so ofc she’d wanna help them) as for starlight I do really like her being a guidance counselor I think that’s very fun!! I’ll probably be keeping that (though another part of me likes the idea of her and trixie going off on their own little B plot missions like in the initial plans for her before the writers changed it up)

5: I’ve honestly shared everything I think ? As for a sunrax hc: they loooveeee getting to infodump to eachother it’s peak yapper ans listener dynamic but it depends on the day who is who. Something something geeks in love lemon demon idk

6: I’m trying to think of stuff but nothings coming to mind atm😭 maybe I’ll come back w a reblog when I’m hit with something to say but for now uhhh that’s all lols

[expresso-bean]

The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Chapter 23

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

All is well until a silver hedgehog comes knocking on Amy Rose's door to deliver the tragic news about an incredible force that seems to be the cause of the future's destruction.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Word Count: 1.9k

POV: Silver the Hedgehog

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ❀ Ch.1 ❀ Ch.2 ❀ Ch.3 ❀ Ch.4 ❀ Ch.5 ❀ Ch.6 ❀ Ch.7 ❀ Ch.8 ❀ Ch.9 ❀ Ch.10 ❀ Ch.11 ❀ Ch.12 ❀ Ch.13 ❀ Ch.14 ❀ Ch.15 ❀ Ch.16 ❀ Ch.17 ❀ Ch.18 ❀ Ch.19 ❀ Ch.20 ❀ Ch.21 ❀ Ch.22

I had several doubts that someone like Sonic, at least in this present, would ever be able to commit a single act of selflessness. I was thankful to be wrong, and even more grateful to see he won't try and intervene in my parents' personal lives anytime soon.

"I should probably go. S and the others are helping others evacuate to the shelters."

"S?"

'Shit.'

I looked around in panic. I had no idea I was able to teleport in the first place, and now I'm forced to not only learn but master it enough to get outside of the front door.

'What do I do? How do I do? How did I even do this?'

My head filling with thoughtlessness and solutions that lead to nowhere. I've been in worse situations, ones where I barely escape with my life. But this time, it isn't my life on the line, but my reputation. It is either reveal myself to my mother and Sonic and look terrible for eavesdropping on their personal conversation, look suspicious by walking out of the house by myself, or bet on Sonic to bail me out which, after everything that has happen, he might need some outlet to release his anger from getting his heart broken by my mother. All these are options that I dread. 

'What am I supposed to do? Everyone is outside...they'll see me if I try to escape...what am I supposed to do!'

"Oh," I perked my head up at the sound of Sonic's voice trailing. I felt the embarrassment rise within him before letting out a heartfelt sigh. "Um, you go on ahead, if you don't mind, I want a moment to myself."

Amy let out a nervous chuckle, confused.

"O-oh, that's okay," Amy waved the awkwardness off before heading towards the door. "...did you want to talk about it? It doesn't have to be right now, but...I worry about you, you know?"

Sonic smiled before nodding and leaning his body further onto the couch. I could feel his urge to cry grow by the second. I knew if my mother stuck around for a bit longer, he would break down then and there.

"Alright then, I'm off," Amy rushed back to Sonic and kissed him softly on the top of his quills before running off towards the door. "I'll see you outside then!"

"I'll see you in a minute." 

Upon the sound of the door closing, I heard Sonic groan. The sadness he had built up finally began to spill. Tears silently spilled as his body shook with the pain of heartache.

'How could I...' Sonic thought. '...believe she could ever love me again?'

Although it stung me to hear Sonic cry, I had to admit that I do not feel bad for him at all. It could be that I am a bit biased, but I knew that wasn't it. He had his chance, and he made my mother insecure about anyone ever loving her genuinely. It took a lot for her to build herself back up after years of humiliating rejection. His heartbreak is understandable, but I could never empathize with it. 

"I-I-I...I-I do-don-don't even-even kno-kno-know wha-what to s-sa-say."

'You don't have to say anything, just leave so I can practice trying to teleport so I can GET OUT OF HERE.'

By screaming in my head, my body jumped a bit and my head hit the knob of the kitchen drawer above me. It wasn't the actual hit that hurt me, but I sucked in my teeth at the loud noise that came from the impact.

'Uh-oh.'

Each step he took was a blur to me. I didn't even sense him coming in my direction. All I know is that in a blink of an eye, Sonic was standing right before me, his face filled with a menacing look and his fists up and ready to attack.

"Oh," Sonic's voice softened, but his expression stayed the same. "it's you."

' Just play it cool. He'll leave you alone after you make it clear you aren't messing around anymore. He doesn't deserve answers after what he did.'

"Yes, it's me."

'That wasn't cool at all! I gotta try and get out of here. At least before he does anything he'll regret.'

I quickly turned around, opting to leave rather than bear the awkwardness of having to see his face. After the altercation that happened between him, Shadow, and I, it wasn't out of the ordinary for me to want a break from his face.

'I didn't think it was possible for him to lose control like that. I guess he really has always been this cranky.'

"Wait!" He stood in front of the door, his arms wide. I stiffly stood upright in shock. "You're not getting out of this that easily." 

'I'm still not used to how fast he is. Even with the added context that he is one of the fastest things alive.'

"What are you even doing here?"

I unfixed my jacket exaggeratedly. I hoped it would prove to him that this time I was done giving him chances.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

His arms folded and he rolled his eyes. I just stared at him, in awe at the fact that he is the one giving me attitude after he attacked me. 

"Sheesh, I was just trying to be nice."

"Now you want to be nice? You can't be serious!" As I approached him, he put up his hands  nonchalantly. I could feel my face growing warm with anger. He didn't even look my way when I pointed a finger to his face. "After everything that happened, you think I'll except your kindness?"

"Hey, that isn't fair! You started this fight. I was never going to act on my feelings, but you're the one who made a big deal about it!"

"I made a big deal about it because it wasn't fair to my mother or Sally!"

"Hey, don't bring her into this!"

Sonic put down his hands, I moved his leg forward as if he was prepping himself to lunge at me if necessary. It didn't scare me. I knew how desperate he was for me to keep my mouth shut.

"You forget one thing, Sonic."

"What?"

"I'm not scared of you. If our fight taught me anything is that I will stop at nothing to to protect the future of everyone I hold dear."

"I see that."

'Shadow won't be around to stop him forever. And although I know I can defend myself, it wouldn't look good to anyone if I attacked their leader for no apparent reason,' My jaw locked. It felt like I was stuck. 'Ugh! I didn't come here be apart of some petty drama. But, I guess, whether I like it or not, I need Sonic's help for this all to work.'

"Despite everything," I sighed. I almost didn't want to offer any sympathy to him. Although nothing happened, there was a icky feeling that weighed on my chest about the entire situation. "I'm glad you came to your senses."

"Oh," His voice grew quiet as he stared right at me. It wasn't a menacing glare, as I expected. Moreso it was one of deep shame. I've never seen someone so grand look so small before. "so you heard everything?"

"Y-yeah. Unfortunately." 

'He's still looking at me like that. I didn't even do anything wrong! He's the one that got caught, why be mad at me?' I shook my head, holding in a sigh. 'I shouldn't give away myself so easily. No, I need something under my sleeve, even if I can barely use it right now, I can train myself up to making it stronger.'

"Look, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it would have been awkward if I had just walked out while you both were having a clearly private conversation."

Sonic nodded. His eyes were still blank, but he seemed to be pondering about something.

'I can't tell what he's feeling. It's like,' My eyes widened a bit before I forced myself to relax. Sonic, despite looking at my the entire time, didn't react to my little facial fumble. 'He isn't feeling anything. Did one conversation devoid him of that much emotion?'

"Look, about what happened."

"Hm?"

Sonic slowly moved toward the counter and leaned against it with his arms crossed. 

'Is he going to...?'

 "I'm... I'm sorry."

'HE ACTUALLY APOLOGIZED?'

"I didn't know what I was thinking, and I know that isn't an excuse, but," He turned his head away from me. I can see the tension growing in his face as he shut his eyes closed. "How I acted wasn't right, and I'm sorry for that."

'What do I do? Sonic isn't evil. I know he isn't,' I couldn't look at him for long. Something inside me twitched with the feeling of uneasiness. 'He's making a lot of mistakes. Like, he's selfish, but he's recognizing that he isn't immune from the consequences.'

Sonic looked over at me briefly. He had the face of a guilty man. I have no doubt that he genuinely regrets what he did. Still, I shouldn't determine whether or not he is worthy of forgiveness.

'He basically cheated on his wife. I can't see past that. I feel guilty just thinking about it!'

"Sonic?"

He didn't hum or say anything at the sound of his name. He slowly looked up at me, a look of sadness on his face.

'For this to work, I'm going to have to keep my distance, at least until he and Sally resolve whatever is happening between them. As much as I hate to say it, it isn't my place to say anything.'

"Let's try and put all of this behind us, we have bigger things to be worried about," Sonic nodded unconvincingly. It was as if he was waiting for me to say something else. "But this is the last time I'm going to tell you to stay of my mother and father's relationship."

"I understand," Sonic sounded rather sincere despite the look on his face. Considering all this is his fault, I could only feel so bad for him. Would he still look this guilty if I had never found out in the first place? "I'm sorry for being so stupid with all of this."

"You have a beautiful fiancé, focus on her rather than others. I would have told her if it was up to me, but I won't since I have no idea what repercussions it might have on the future."

"Thank you for that."

"I don't want your thanks," I tsked rather annoyingly. I could feel my patience thinning the longer the conversation lasts. "I don't mean to be rude, but there are more important things that we need to focus on. We have a lot of training and picking up to do. As much as I hate to admit, your friends will follow you to the ends of the world. Even Amy. I need her to be focused, and without you're distractions."

"I promise. I'm all in on this. No more fighting."

Looking over at him was like looking in a mirror. We both had that same expression of guilt. I couldn't help but be angry at how unfair this entire situation felt. The worst part is I knew he also understood what I was feeling. Yet, he hasn't said a single word about it.

"You better be right."

'For your own sake. I'm done letting you hurt other people for your own selfish reasons.'

"Let's get going. I'm sure Amy and the others are waiting for us."

"Right," I nodded. "Let's get this done!"