#because i know my take on red is somewhat softer

[bywons]

✢ ⠀ CRAWLING BACK TO YOU — PJS

━━━ ❛ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

( 𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝓓𝖤𝖢𝖮 ) 𝗉𝗃𝗌 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 ` ィ 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾? 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 1334 𝑤𝖼 && CATALOUGE

✦ PLS REBLOG if u enjoyed !! | click me 𝑖𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈

“glad to kn-know i'm still relevant in your world,” jay pushes the door aside, stumbling to the side of your apartment door. back pressed against it with his head held high, he shoots you a smug smirk as he's almost about to slide down. “i knew you miss me, darling.”

he's drunk, it's clear as day. you don't miss out the little silver flask almost falling off from his hand and how he reeks of alcohol, who knows how many drinks he had this night. you don't even remember why you called him in the first place, it's 3 in the morning— both too early and late and scandalous to call a person, especially when it's your ex. especially when it's a drunk park jongseong.

“jay,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “what are you doing here?”

he chuckles, his laugh a mix of genuine amusement and intoxicated sloppiness. “you called, so here i am,” he says, attempting to stand up straighter but failing miserably. “couldn't leave you hanging, could i?"

you groan internally, cursing your impulsive decision. “fuck me,” you mutter. “come in before you wake up the whole building.” you literally drag him into your apartment before shutting the door close. jay collapses on the couch, a faint smirk still directed at you.

did you call him? everything in the past hour has been so obscure that you didn't even notice the dry tears on your cheeks until now, when a cool breeze caresses it, leaving an odd stretchy feeling against your dry skin. maybe it's a few glasses of wine, or a drunk call? maybe you called him to deal with the cockroach in your room which you know you can deal with yourself. or maybe it's the overwhelming loneliness that's been gnawing at you lately. regardless, calling jay at 3 in the morning wasn't your smartest move.

“now, why'd you call me?,” ah of course, now he will want to talk about your break up. he can barely make sentences, words overlapping each other in a somewhat coherent sentence, “3 am is definitely your timing.”

and the best way to ignore a drunk talking park jongseong? offer him water to sober down, because heck you can't understand anything. neither him nor this situation.

grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you hand it to him, watching as he struggles to sit up and open it before finally taking a sip.

“why did you call me?" he asks, voice softer now. the redness of his eyes and the bravado in his voice fading. he looks up at you, only a hands’ distance away from where he's sitting.

“i need you to ah—,” shit. eye contact with park jongseong still has the same effect on you, “help me move some furniture. you know, crazy landlady.” you let out a chortle.

“moving furniture? at 3 am?,” jay narrows his eyes, gaze piercing through you, it's obvious he doesn't believe you, “do i seriously have the word dumb tattooed across my face?”

jay doesn't move an inch from his place, eyes lying still on yours, an unspoken connection that's been missed by you both, a connection so palpable and mellow that it's still a residue in this messed up relationship. you realise how much you miss his eyes— he moves your heart by them and he's still. you wish you could kiss him right now, does he want that too? after all, why wouldn't he want that? no man is willing to stumble to their ex's apartment at 3 in the morning in a drunken state. that too after just one call which could've been an accident? jay definitely wants you back.

“no, no at all jay, i'm really—”

“you were with heeseung last week,” jay doesn't let you finish explaining yourself— before he gives you another mishap to explain. his eyes narrow down even more, he catches his lips between his teeth, “...i didn't like that.”

“you should've closed your eyes and walked out of the bar then, jay,” you snap. it's quite insufferable for park jongseong to be furious over the consequences of his actions. you had to return home late at night, and with no car how could you? you don't trust cabs at that hour, but you do still trust your ex. and when even the last option opts out himself you're left with something out of syllabus— his best friend. you have to go home! “don't start with that.”

“fair, want me to start with fixing ’seung?,” jay's words are colder than the flask he's carrying.

“jay you better not—”

“oh i won't,” jay scoffs, evident jealousy laced in his voice, “i have better things to do.”

it's only a split second, and you don't know when or how you end up under him on the sofa, his hand softly clasping around your wrist and the other encircling your waist. jay entangles his legs with yours, an impossible knot to get out of. there's still a drunken reflection in his eyes as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, hand caressing your cheeks. his eyes stunt yours, you're suddenly unable to speak as you feel his lips press down yours. they sloppily trace down to your cheeks to your jaws and neck. jay giggles in between, probably at your sudden silence, and the way he feels your hands pull his collar closer to you.

that's the most basic method to try and get back your ex. but you don't find yourself stopping him.

“so, this is the better thing?,” you scoff when you look up at him, jay leaves a final kiss on the crook of your neck before he hovers over you again.

his silver chain dangles from his neck, the coldness of it caressing the bridge of your nose, sending an electric wave down your spine. pairing up with his smug eyes and lazy grin is the deadliest combo ever, it's not good for you at all. should you really get back with him? kiss this better with him?

“the best thing,” jay whispers, “don't know why heeseung even tries,” he rolls his eyes, “you're mine, he should use his eyes.”

“am i really yours?,” you sigh, your hold on his black shirt's collars loosening as your eyes become glossy at the thought of something disturbing, “i saw you…with someone else too.” it felt weird somewhere to feel betrayed when you see some random girl clinging to your ex, even though you know jay probably brushed her off later but you didn't wait to see the scene.

“oh no no, love,” you expected jay to panic and chant ‘it was a mistake’, but you're glad he didn't live up to this expectation. he's confident about what he says, as he moves lower and closer to your face, tracing the bridge of your nose to your jaws, “i'm too busy being yours, there's no someone else.”

“aren't you being a little cheesy?,” a tiny smile hangs on your lips, threatening to turn into a laugh, as you play with his collars.

“can't even tell the truth now?,” it's his turn to grin, he takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss.

you can't help but let out a soft giggle at his words. it's only been a month since you two broke off, but jay still finds his way back to you, like you do too. at this moment jay's world is silent. this is the moment he's been waiting for. sober, with you, kissing you all over with a hope of a new starting. you are his vibrance, he can't afford to lose it.

“i could do anything for you. sorry i failed to make this clear earlier,” his smug expression is back on again.

“anything to come back to me?”

“anything i would die for you, fight for you,” jay confirms, and just like that his lips are back on yours again, “do you want me crawling back to you?”

a/n — uuuhh can u guess this was kinda a hurried writing TT i'm not really satisfied with this but I hope u enjoyed it ^^ pleek lmk ^^

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[daddy-dotcom]

Scents and Sensibility

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: You see an ad for those “pheromone perfumes” and decide to test its effect on your boyfriend at work. Requested by the lovely @swaggysagiewagie

Words: 1,164

Warnings: Implied smut and maybe like 1 swear word

——————————————————

I'm normally not one to make impulse purchases, but I just couldn't resist. I always thought those pheromone perfumes were a gimmick, but as a woman of science, I decided to test one and see if it actually worked. More specifically, I wanted to see if it worked on Spencer. Normally, we keep things very tame while we're on the clock. The team knows we're a couple, but we make sure to keep the PDA to a minimum. I don't mind his lack of affection at work, especially given the fact that he's not very expressive in public either, but it wouldn't hurt to get more than a peck on the cheek every now and then while were on the job. To test the effects of my newest purchase, I applied just a bit of the perfume before walking out the door to work.

Immediately as I walked through the lobby, I began turning heads. I typically went unnoticed when I entered the lobby, but the security guards said hello to me this morning as did the men in the elevator. I made my way up to our unit and I made my way to my desk, as usual. As I passed Morgan's desk, I could instantly tell that something was out of the ordinary.

"Good morning, babygirl," he said, eyeing me up and down more than usual. He's called me beautiful, gorgeous, or even pretty several times, but babygirl was exclusively reserved for Garcia.

"....good morning?" I replied, somewhat confused, but mostly smug because I had a feeling that my new perfume was working.

JJ Prentiss were talking amongst themselves when I came over to greet them. We exchanged our typical weekend updates before Emily asked me if I was wearing a new perfume.

"It smells amazing. Is it vanilla?" JJ asked.

"I think so? To tell you the truth, I'm not actually sure. I actually bought it on a whim because it's a pheromone perfume."

"Oh come on, (Y/N), you know those are all fake right" said Emily.

"You wanted to see if it worked on Spence didn't you?" JJ asked with a grin creeping up on her face.

Just then, an angry Garcia walked up to us demanding to know why Morgan had started referring to me as "babygirl."

I proceeded to spill the beans about how I wanted to mess with Spencer and see if he would be able to keep his hands off me at work now that I've used the perfume. They agreed not to reveal my secret weapon to Spencer, but we also wanted to see if it had an effect on any of our other team members.

Almost on cue, Spencer made his way over to greet us.

"Morning everyone!" he said in his usual upbeat tone. I saw him pause for a moment when he got close to me and I could practically see his brain short-circuiting. Then, in a much softer tone with his voice dropped a few octaves, he turned to me and said "good morning my love." He leaned in to give what I assumed would be our usual daily quick peck on the lips, but he gently placed one hand on my hip and let his lips linger much longer than usual. I pulled away after a few seconds, my face beet red from the realization that Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ were still watching us.

"I'll see you in the meeting," he said, walking away with a smirk.

I could feel the other agents' eyes on me as I stood there like a lovesick teenage girl.

"Well I would say that definitely worked on him" JJ said.

"You're making it way too easy for him, (Y/N)," Prentiss added.

And she was right. I was giving in to Spencer's advances way too easily. If I wanted the full effect of the perfume, I was going to have to make him beg for it. We dispersed and made our way to the meeting room to be briefed on our case. On our way in, I brushed past Rossi, who also seemed to take notice of my new scent.

"You're looking nice today, (Y/N), got a hot date?" he joked, glancing over at Spencer. I let out a laugh before replying, "I hope so."

I took the spot between Hotch and Spencer, acting somewhat indifferent to my boyfriend’s presence to see if he would notice. As I settled into my seat, I saw Hotch do a double take out of the corner of my eye. He may not have said anything, but I could tell he wasn’t immune to the effects of my new perfume either. Garcia began her usual presentation about our new case, but I could hardly focus on anything she was saying because I could feel a hand slowly creeping up my thigh, and it definitely wasn’t Hotch’s. Still, I pretended not to notice his slender fingers toying with the hem of my skirt, even though I was consumed with thoughts of where I'd rather have them.

After what seemed like ages, Hotch finally dismissed us to prepare to board the jet. Since I was pretty much always prepared, I was the first one to board, and I noticed Spencer followed me shortly after, looking like a lost puppy dog. I was reaching up high to put my luggage up in the overhead bin, which was a task I usually asked Spencer to do for me. However, Spencer would be boarding the jet any moment now, so I decided to do it myself, an action which not-so-accidentally caused my skirt to ride up in the back. I heard familiar, converse-wearing footsteps behind me, but once again I pretended not to notice.

"(Y/N) you know you can't reach up there yourself, let me help," he said, firmly pressing his body against my backside as he stretched his arms up to assist me. I felt his hips flush against my ass and his arms moved to firmly plant themselves at my waist.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch me, Spence," I said, not bothering to hide the grin on my face due to our position.

"Please, love, I can't help it. You smell so delicious today I don't know what's gotten into me."

He began leaving a trail of kisses from my lips down to my neck and I couldn’t help but finally give in to his requests.

“You better make it quick before the others board the jet,” I said, trying to stifle a moan.

“All I need is 5 minutes. Two if you keep those heels on.”

“Deal. But you’re not coming until I say so.”

“Anything you want, love. I just need you.”

I quickly pulled him into the bathroom of the jet, where he definitely proved that he really did need only two minutes.

“By the way, are we part of the mile high club if the plane didn’t technically leave the ground?”

[moonstruckme]

would u maybe be willing to write remus with a reader who also has scars? not from anything in particular just more than the average joe (i personally have quite a few scars from years of sports and having acne and a skin condition, so really the cause can be anything u want) and they take care of eachother? they have a routine they do together and they put lotion and bio oil on for eachother <3

Thanks for requesting!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

“Remus?” He looks past himself in the mirror to find you standing in the doorway to the bathroom, hair wet from the shower you’d taken before his. You’re holding your hands the way you do when you’re feeling tentative. 

He turns around and makes his voice extra soothing to assuage it. “Yeah, dovey?” 

“What do you…what are you doing, when you rub that stuff on your face?” 

He blinks, looking down at the small container in his hand. “This? It’s oil. It’s for my scars.” 

You take a hesitant step forward. Your brow wrinkles. “Like, to make them go away?” 

He smiles wistfully. “No. I don’t think anything can make them go away, honey. This just makes them less…obvious.” 

You smile, walking up to him with a bit more confidence. “Oh, good. Can I try some?” 

Remus raises his brows. “What for?” 

“I have scars,” you say, almost defensively. “They’re not as cool as yours, but I have them.” 

A little laugh escapes him. Cool. “You mean like the ones on your knees?” 

You nod, taking the oil from him and reading the bottle. “Yeah, like those.” 

“Sure, hop up here.” He pats the counter, and you follow his instructions readily, twisting around to jump up and setting your back against the mirror. You’re wearing your pajama shorts, your bare knees brushing the material of the towel around his waist. 

“This better not be an excuse to get me alone half-naked,” he says quietly as he gets his lotion back out from inside the cabinet. You go bright red at the suggestion, and Remus huffs a laugh. “I knew it.” 

“Stop,” you plead, nudging him reprimandingly with your foot. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” 

“Only teasing,” he reaffirms what you already know. He crouches in front of you. “It’s lucky you just showered, because that’s usually when your scars need it most. Your skin is all dried out from the water.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say sardonically, but there’s a bit of real self-consciousness to your voice. Remus strokes his thumb over your knee placatingly. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we start with lotion, to moisturize it first.” He places a dollop of the lotion onto your knee, rubbing it in with his fingers. You hum in understanding, and he does the other knee too. “And then the oil, which should make the marks a bit less angry if you use it consistently.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he smooths the oil into the scars on your knees. Remus looks up to find you giving him a soft, open look, and he smiles, squeezing your calf lightly. 

“Of course, honey. Any other scars that need attending to?” 

“There’s some on my hands.” You’re looking at him the way you look at the moon, with a tender sort of reverence. He suspects that you don’t actually care so much about the appearance of scars on your hands so much as you want him to keep touching you, but that’s more than alright with him. 

“Yeah?” he prompts, and you hold them out in front of him. “Mm. I’ve never noticed these before.” 

“They’re not huge,” you say with a shrug. 

Remus sets to work, massaging lotion into the skin of your hands and wrists. He takes the oil again and begins applying it to the marks he can see. “Where’d this come from?” he asks, rubbing it into a cruel line down the bottom of your palm. 

“Oh, I cut myself cutting something in the kitchen one time,” you explain, somewhat embarrassedly. 

He hums sympathetically, moving to another scar just shy of your knuckle. “What about this one?” 

“I’d forgotten that a pan I’d set in the sink was still hot.” Your voice gets softer as his fingers soothe over your hands bit by bit. “I brushed the back of my hand against it without thinking.” 

A small sound escapes him, equal parts fondness and exasperation. “And these?” He thumbs over two nearly identical white lines, one just above the other on your wrist. 

 “Burned myself on the oven rack.” You look at them sheepishly. “Twice.” 

Remus huffs a laugh, finishing with the oil and bringing your arm to his chest. “So what I’m getting from this is, you’re never going into a kitchen again.”

“Hey,” you say with a smile, “a girl’s got to eat.” 

“I’ll cook for you,” he bargains. 

“Every meal?” 

“If it means keeping you from injuring yourself, yes.” 

“I might be amenable to that,” you say, looking at him consideringly, “if…you let me put this stuff on your scars for you sometimes.” 

Remus’ lips curve slightly as he leans forward, stamping them on your forehead. “It’s a deal, lovely girl. We can do it for each other, yeah?” 

“Sounds good.” You peck his cheek in return, hopping down from the counter. “So, what’s for dinner? I was going to make myself a grilled cheese, but if you’re cooking I’m thinking more along the lines of lobster bisque.”

[aster-wires]

high tension scenarios w/ the twst boys

starring: Jack Howl and Azul Ashengrotto

authors notes: first time writing in like a year !! im gonna be writing more for twst, so if you see this feel free to request something. ill be setting up more rules later, so for now i hope you enjoy :D (also the formatting took forever please) 

Jack Howl ○ The Virtuous Protector

Patching them up while they seem to get flustered by the minute.

“And how did this happen again?” You sighed, taking out your first aid kit. Jack sat awkwardly at the foot of your bed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Got ‘nto a fight with some of my dorm members. It’s nothing serious.” He murmured. He took off his black vest for easier access to his wounds, but your eyes were more focused looking up and down his muscular arms. Snapping out of your small trance, you sighed as you began to disinfect the cuts and scrapes of the fight.

This was somewhat of a weekly routine by now. He’d come in with few injuries and the occasional bruise, but never anything awful. You never pushed the subject as to why he’s been getting into more fights recently, but that’s partly because you never really minded patching him up.

Besides, he’d rather sit on one of his cacti than admit that he’s been fighting for you. A few of his dorm members decided to talk shit about you in front of him, and he wouldn’t just let that slide on their part.

You two quietly for the most part. Jack looked away when you started to bandage his forearms, letting out a small hiss when you applied some alcohol onto the wound. Deciding to take a quick look back at you, he smiled softly at your furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“All done!” You smiled, finishing wrapping up the gauze around his knuckles. Taking a look at the wolf beast-man, you saw him staring back with a light blush. Clenching his fist, he turned his head to the side bashfully.

“What’s wrong? Do you have a fever?” You asked, peering around him to press a hand to his forehead. As soon as you got a good look at his bright red face, you could see his ears flattened atop of his head. His tail was almost moving at mach 10 speeds, as he took his other hand to try and slow it down as best as he could.

“You just…” Taking your hand off of his forehead, he held it loosely in his palm; gently, as if he was afraid to scrape you up himself.

“Nevermind. Thank you for always–”

“Taking care of you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” His hands were wrapped in the gauze you applied; rough, yet softer than people think it is. A bit like Jack in a way, you guess.

“Alright, just no more fights for a while. You’re using up my entire bandaid supply.” He smiled at that, unable to stop the furious wagging of his tail again. But he didn’t mind it so much this time.

Azul Ashengrotto ○ The Benevolent Sea Witch

Doing eyeliner when their face is inches away from yours.

"I don’t know why I agreed to this."

And yet here he was, sitting cross-legged in front of you while you were dipping the brush back into the bottle for more of the liquid substance. Letting out a small exhale at the notion, you began to softly press the tool just below his waterline.

Sure, you were focused on making sure that you don’t accidentally poke your friend’s eye out, but you’d be lying if you said that was all you were focused on.

“I mean, I don’t know why you need eyeliner when your eyes are already so mesmerizing.” You teased, leaning in a little closer to add some more liner in the innermost corners of his eye.

He tensed up at the statement, wanting to pull away and look to the side so that his hair could cover up any small smile that threatened his cool, composed behavior. But with a firm grip on his cheeks, you stopped him from moving away. (And stopped him from messing up all his liner.)

Moving onto the other eye, you decided to continue to tease the poor boy. Think of it as payback for all the times he’s left you speechless with his words.

“Oh I’m sorry, should I have said hypnotizing instead? Or maybe alluring? I mean–”

"Stop it."

He breathed out, the skin of his face was getting warmer by the second the more you held it. You chuckled, having way too much fun flustering him.

Azul, on the other hand, was tempted to hide in his octopot forever.

Deciding that’s enough teasing for one day, you two fell into a comfortable silence as the blush on his face slowly dimmed, but his eyes stayed as sharp as ever.

"Can you hurry up? I have a client I’m meeting later today." He grimaced at the thought of having to leave you so soon, but he has a responsibility of helping those dumb- I mean, poor unfortunate souls.

“Sure thing, hun.”

Yeah. He was really regretting agreeing to this.

┊┊ ˚✧ ┊┊┊┊ ˚✧ ┊ ┊┊ ┊ ˚✧ ┊┊┊┊˚✧ ┊┊

[essycogany]

Amy’s Eye Color

Since I couldn’t get this off my mind I’ve decided to dive deep into the abyss of character design. I’ll mostly add on to what I said in my tags in the, “What Eye Color Looks Good On Amy Rose,” voting post and elaborate.

Short History

Amy’s eye color from the start of her redesign in Sonic Adventure has always been the same as Sonic’s. A warm green that use to be apart of Amy’s classic dress. Which is a nice detail in my opinion. The pink hedgehog’s eyes has been somewhat consistent with Sonic’s from official art, 3D models, to the comics.

It almost always been that way aside from Sonic X. Where her eyes are on the cooler side then Sonic’s. Jade or Emerald to be specific. Her eyes are closer to the color of jewelry. While Sonic has a warmer grassier colored green. I like jade or emerald on Amy’s eyes as well, but I want to keep the topic consistent and less complicated then it already is.

Anyways, I think the minor inconsistencies was done for artistic vision or whenever the lighting would change in the comics. To be honest I’ve noticed color inconsistencies all the time when it comes to Sonic characters. Which isn’t a bad thing. It just shows how much variety you can have when it comes to these characters.

My Thoughts On Amy’s Eye Color

I don’t mind Amy’s eyes being the same as Sonic’s. It doesn’t look bad on her and is one of the reasons her design is as iconic as it is. Especially since it’s been a part of her for so long.

But let’s get into why I personally prefer teal.

I’m no color theory expert, but I’ll do my best. Also, not every Sonic character or cartoon character period, follows these rules. Just a good majority of them do.

Sonic: Blue is a primary color and green is a secondary color. Because green complements blue Sonic’s eyes stands out. Not to mention they symbolize his energy and love for nature.

Blaze: Purple is a secondary color and gold is a primary color. Her purple fur works amazingly with her harsh gold eyes. Symbolizing her fire powers. Also I’ve noticed a few artist add a bit of a reddish orange to her and Silvers eyes and I think they look lovely.

Amy: She’s a bit complicated. Since her red dress takes up most of her design I’ll use it as Amy’s primary color. I believe teal would be a better secondary color for Amy because it stands out a bit better and is less harsh then green. It gives Amy a softer look too.

Teal and pink is also a wonderful combination in general because they balance each other out. With pink’s warmth and energy going with the teal’s calm and coolness. Giving off a more enchanted and mystical feeling to Amy’s eyes. It perfectly compliments her personality too because she’s an energetic character with a soft and sweet nature.

Here are some characters with similar color tones:

They’re not all similar characteristically, but what most of them have in common is they’re kind natured and they’ll protect the people they care about. Just like a certain pink hedgehog.

See how the eyes are the first thing you notice?

These are around what I have in mind( jade/emerald are cooler greens so they work too):

The main reason I prefer Amy’s eyes to be teal is due to a lot of amazing fan-artist. I won’t give out names, (because there’s a bunch of them) but they are so brilliant and I appreciate what they bring to the Sonic feast of wonderful art.

I’ve seen it so much to the point when I think “Amy Rose,” I see her with teal eyes. I know it’s silly, but that’s genuinely what I feel works for her. Besides I enjoy talking about weird topics like these. It keeps the mind turning, you know.

I appreciate the official artist and 3D models as well. Even if Amy’s eyes are barely ever teal, she still looks wonderful without them because of those talented people.

Conclusion

Will Amy’s eyes ever be teal? Probably not. Does any of this matter? No.

Teal eyes or not Amy Rose is a wonderful Sonic character. I hope you had fun with me on exploring this wild world of colors and character design.

Stay Creative! 💜

[dawnisdreamlanding]

Chapter 4

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor!au and Roommate!au

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Hey!! my 3 month hiatus is finally over!! I finally have time to write hahahasdf I hope you guys like this chapter :) Lmk if you wanna get added into the taglist.

Truth be told, Konig could have come back home to you ages ago. But ever since his mission ended a month ago, he’s chosen the stiffness of his military bed over the softer, more appropriately sized bed that’s waiting for him at home. Why, you may ask? Well, it might have something to do with the way the blood of his enemies still cling onto him no matter the amount of times he’s tried to scrub it off and the thought of your horrified face when you find out that it was him who spilled their blood.

It’s a foolish thought to think that a man like Konig could live a normal, civilian life. He’s a battering ram made for the battlefield, and he’ll be that way for the rest of his life. He looks over at his desk which is nearly free of any reports. He’s been trying to find every excuse he can to not go back to your apartment, but it’s the promise he made with you to watch that stupid, stupid show of yours that finally gets him packing to go home.

—

You’ve never been so glad to hear that familiar long tired sigh that only your roommate makes. You practically rush out of the kitchen, dishes forgotten and greet him. “Konig!” you say with a smile. You excitedly stand in front of him, but you know better and keep your hands to himself. He’s never really been a big fan of touch since day one, and you swore to yourself to respect his boundaries, no matter how excited you may be to see him after so long.

So you’re very much surprised when Konig was the one to actually hug you first. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close and tight, making sure you couldn’t run away — so much so that you couldn’t even lift your arms to hug him back. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry into his private life, waiting patiently until Konig is the one who tells you about his life. It’s one of the qualities he likes about you so much. You don’t pry into his life yet somehow have the capability to care for him somewhat endlessly.

He takes a long, deep breath and it feels like half of his burdens have been lifted from his body when he exhales, the same way you drop a heavy bag after coming home from a long trip. He doesn’t let go of you for quite some time.

While Konig wishes he could be in the moment and enjoy this small comfort he has  in his bloodshed-filled life, he is stuck in his own head. How would you react if he told you the nature of his job? Would you push yourself away from him right now? Would you be so disgusted, you’d tell him to never come near you ever again? Konig would understand why.

His fingers press against the cotton material of your cloud sweater you’re wearing as an effort to ground himself. The feeling of your soft sweaters, the way his arms wrap around your body so easily, would he lose all of this? Would “Ko” cease to exist? 

It is then that he decides not to tell you — not quite yet, anyway. Call him selfish all you want, but he wants to keep you around and hug you a little more. Spend a couple more nights laughing about dumb characters in pointless shows and watching you eat his cooking after you come back from work. Just a little more of those moments before you slip away from his grasp.

—

The smell of butter melting on bread that wafts into your room wakes you up. You opened a bottle of red wine last night -- a Pinot Noir -- to celebrate him coming home after a long 3 months. He politely declined it when you had offered a glass to him, saying that he didn’t drink. Which struck you as odd, because you swore you remember seeing a can of beer lying in the trash the last time he was home.

You don’t remember much of anything that happened after you downed the 4th glass of red wine but hey, at least your head wasn’t pounding. You pull the blanket off you and you realize that you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The bed creaks as you get up and can be heard all the way from the kitchen. “Maus?” Konig calls out.

You show yourself in the kitchen not long after, and he serves you bread rolls with butter and strawberry jam. “I eat this when I was young.” He opens up as he places the plate in front of you. You realize that Konig has opened up more to you in the last 24 hours than he has since you first met him, but you aren’t complaining.

“It’s good.” You say. It’s simple bread and butter, quite literally. Not much Konig could’ve gotten wrong anyway. He seemed nervous as he watched you take that first bite but after your comment, he lights up. “I’m glad.” He says. It takes him a moment to snap out of it, but he sits down opposite of you and he begins eating his own share of the bread rolls.

You can’t help but stare at him in slight wonder, watching him slip the bread rolls under his hood to eat them. “Does it ever get hard to breathe?” Konig freezes momentarily at the question and he thinks that maybe you’ve caught on to the monster he truly is. But after a short moment of silence, you motion to his hood and it all makes sense.

He looks at you; truly looks at you. A little bit of strawberry jam smeared on the left corner of your mouth, a sweeter shade of red than the usual blood he sees on the field. “Sometimes.” He answers with a subtle hint of a secret meaning that he doesn't dare utter. You continue eating but he can't help but stare at you. 

He leans forward and his thumb swipes the jam off your face, leaving you a little stunned and a little embarrassed. The jam on his thumb is the same color as the blood on the battlefield but with you in the frame, it isn't blood; it’s a peaceful breakfast eating bread rolls and jam with you on a Sunday morning.

Taglist: @gojo-mochi @itsthealice @multifamdom-lover3 @sleepyoriana

[vinelark]

do you have any good reverse robins fic to rec?

oh hell yeah!

Reverse Robins: Joker Junior series by miyaji_08 i rec’d the second fic in this series over here for the timkon of it all, but the series—two parts, both complete—is also one of my absolute favorite reverse robins stories. it goes the joker junior!tim route, so heads up for A Lot of tim-centric trauma, but gives tim (and everyone else) so much healing, too. it also gets creative with the robin of it all, as in, the call sign for batman’s partner is different from the jump because dick wasn’t around to originate “robin” for it, which i always think is a fun extra detail. the batfam characters are great and the young justice crew is also great, so read for top-tier hurt and comfort and great characters and satisfying plot and tim and damian competing to see who is the most Tired big brother of the bunch.

blood of the covenant by envysparkler robins are angsty in any order, but man does this hit the angst sweet spot, which in turn makes the soft parts feel even softer. i genuinely can’t decide what my favorite dynamic is in this AU, between damian & tim (damian wracked with guilt, tim hurting and still wanting an older brother even if he’d never admit it) and tim & jason (no spoilers but chapter 4 especially lights my brain up like a supernova) and tim & dick (i think about the part where dick grayson [tiny, cheerful] uses tim [undead, annoyed] as a jungle gym like once a week).

Wing Beats in Reverse by firefright a longfic where jason gets kidnapped by the mysterious red hood, who turns out to be jason’s not-so-dead predecessor. the jason pov here is great, and i was so compelled by how this AU explored his place in the bat family, and how it managed the emotional fallout from the kidnapping. tim is also so interesting in this—it does something i love in a reverse robins concept, which is make tim’s motivations (and lazarus pit effects) less about anger/hurt/revenge and more about ice cold logic, about being the villain so the bats don’t have to/whether they want him to or not. plus some league of assassins trauma as a cherry on top. also, kon gets to show up for a bit. (as a fair warning—and spoilers ahead—the fic has a somewhat hopeful ending for tim, but doesn’t reach full reconciliation in the scope of the plot.)

i woke up so worried that the angels let go by circees a short but potent batkids age reversal au that’s also a grisha au, starring duke as the coveted sun summoner that damian is trying to deliver to safety without mentally adopting a new brother (damian fails on the second part). even with my limited memory of grisha lore i could tell a lot of thought was put into this au, and i have a feeling it would be even better if you are able to catch all the details. i also love that even in a fantasy world where some of the bat family have magical abilities, duke is still extra special—a great analogy to being a metahuman among the bats.

The 90s Are Back! by RedWritingHood saving the two silly ones for last to lighten the mood! in this one, red hood!tim gets de-aged to sixteen and meets all his new siblings. it’s like .01% angst and 99.99% shenanigans, and pretty much all the dialogue is super quotable but Dick holds out his hands like he's calming a bunch of wild animals. "Okay, I know everyone's real upsetti spaghetti right now, but I think we all just need to calm down." might take the cake.

Clowns Don’t Kill People by mademoisellePlume very short, very silly reverse robins brother shenanigans, in which tiny dick grayson isn’t scared of recovering joker junior!tim because dick, having been raised in the circus, doesn’t associate clowns with evil yet. the fic is fun (and a great palate cleanser if you need a break from the angst above), and the author’s note at the end made me fully laugh out loud.

[wifey-ohara]

I'll fill the silence for you

Sick hobie& younger sibling! Reader

So in my hobie hcs i said that we took care of him after the spider bite soo i just wanted to write it out, because nothing else was moving along, hope you enjoy this little drabble

Notes: platonic, Siblings love, comforting hobie, painful spider bite, reader can sing, lyrics and verses from don't speak by no doubt because ive been listening to it none stop, proof read by my friend angel(thx love), probably gonna add to it

@randomaddict1 asked if i have more hobie and sib reader and the answer is, always

"and if it's real i don't want to know~"

And you sang along what songs you remember..

It was 5 am in the morning, and the sun started to shine in you and your older brother's little speace you called your home, unfortunately, you haven't had a blink of sleep that night.

Not that the timing was unfamiliar to you, you two were all too happy with staying up late and even skipping a whole night sleep before going to living your lives, doing your jobs as if you rested the night before, spending those sleepless nights partying, hosting concerts, singing and having fun, or just on some roof you two climbed, staring at the stars, talking about life, the future, your plans, or running in the rain, playing as if you were children again.

But tonight,your voice echoing around the quiet place, arms creating random shapes in his arm, the other on his back, repeating a mindless tapping motion on it, you were doing everything in your power to keep yourself awake.

You haven't dared to stop holding him and singing ever since you almost fell asleep after him and he started whispering in pain and kicking slightly two hours ago.

You don't think you'll ever forget the image of him on the floor, back arched forward, chin to his chest, jaw so tight you're suprised his teeth are still intact, eyes sealed shut yet cheeks wet from sweat and tears, loud grunts of pain escaping him.

You ran to his side, looking for any gunshot wounds, stab openings, any proof of the intruder that your dagger was drawn out for, yet none were apparent, actually, he seemed perfectly fine.

"it was a spider!" he yelled, gasping before he drew his lips shut again.

You're still confused about it, but you held him through it all, whispered in his ear comforting words, rocked him back and forth, let him squeeze your hand, encouraged him to scream it out, until he tired of it and began to take deeper breaths, eyelids fluttering shut, snuggling to your shoulder.

"sing f'me... Please" he sobbed "of course" you replied.

And thats how you two ended up like this, his head on your shoulder, both arms around you, finding safety in your touch and yet protecting you at the same time

..

He woke up to your humming, feeling your hands hanging by his shoulders, as your head was dropped back on the couch.

It was soothing, never failing to ground him and put him at ease, and now, it makes the needles running under his skin somewhat softer, and the heaveiness of his head lighter.

"don't tell me because it hurts" he said matching your humming, lifting his head off your shoulder to take a look at you.

And any soothing feelings he had when he woke up disappeared into thin air.

You lifted your head as well, smiling at him, Your eyes were red and puffed out, covered in sweat and tears.

"don't speak, i know just what you're sayin' " you replied, voice raspy and it sounded like it hurts you to talk.

"trouble what the hell is this, why you lokin' like that?" he asked still tired and sick but he has other matters to take care of, like knowing why his sibling looks like they walked through hell and back.

And then he remembered.

"little one, did you sleep?" he asked, voice softer this time.

"i couldn't.." you said, and he frowned at you.

"Comeon then" he was still sick and every not fit to change positions with you in his arms but he did anyway, ignoring the sharp soreness the consumed him whole,and the wave of dizziness that came with it ,turning to the side so he could put you on top of him, feeling that urge to throw up fading a bit to the back of his throat.

He reached up and started playing with your hair, messaging your scalp gently, already scolding himself for letting stay up watch over him all night and halfway through the day, planning on calling whoever you had scheduled a job with today and tomorrow and tell them that you won't be there.

It took him awhile to go back to sleep but he did, eventually.

[benjaminthewolf]

Internal Glow (Vore Story)

HAPPY VORE DAY!

I'm probably not coming back because I'm moving into my college dorms in a little over a week and then it's back to school. But I am here with you now to celebrate this special day!

I can't wait to see all your interpretations of this piece!

      The feral, beastly winds of the winter sink a snap of icy fangs into the twitching fingers of your tiny body whilst you grasp, in rigid agony, the curved surface of the screw’s head. A surface caked wholly in a layer of snow and ice, searing the stinging burn of their bitter frigidity deep into the skin of your palm, and down your forearm.

     Forcing an acceptance of the pain’s presence in order to wrench the frozen screw counterclockwise, you close your eyes and grunt whilst gathering your remaining energy into the tingling forearm. The screw makes a sort of metallic scraping sound as it grinds around within its socket.

    Reality roars into both your numbed, solid ears, while flurries of snow-and-ice-packed winds surge onto your being from the left. As if intent on hauling you up and among them, carrying your defeated, spasming form to the drift it would settle to die.

      You yank out the now sufficiently loosened screw, and drop it into the snow where it would meet with its three companions. The cover of the air duct clangs to the ground, the tunnel now open to you.

     You’re instantly pushed by your instincts to shove your quivering body inside, causing the external screams of the wind to give way to the jolt of an internal, tightening warmth. 

***

     Cautiously sliding your hand sideways through the leftmost slit of this new air duct cover, which stood between you and the house’s interior, your still chilled, yet better dexterous fingers tap their tips onto the screw head. The final one to unscrew, no less. You extend your arm further past the cover, in order to firmly grasp the metallic hemisphere. Twisting your wrist counterclockwise, you can feel the screw rising out of place, before pulling it out the remainder of the way. Finally, the screw falls to the carpet, and you slide your arm and hand back through the slit.          

     This duct cover makes a far softer landing onto the dark purple shag carpet, before you enter at last into the room. 

     It appears to be space and alien themed, with a color palette of dark purple, black, and bright green. The blanket on the bed, and many posters on the walls, contain the classic symbol of an alien head: bright green, and guitar-pick shaped, with black, almond-shaped eyes.

     You take a few steps forwards, pondering as to what, exactly, you’re going to do now.

     *THWACK*

     “Wh-ah-.....” the owner of the room stammers in sudden bewilderment, standing in front of the newly wide open door. You know he’s the owner, as the very same alien symbol is present on his black t-shirt. 

     As the stand-off continues, you take the opportunity to vehemently scrutinize the man’s appearance, as to add him to your records of the people you have encountered over the years.

     A purple striped long-sleeved shirt lies underneath his black t-shirt, and he wears a pair of glasses with purple rims and red lenses. His skin is pure white, his teeth are sharp and jagged; and his upwards pointing, somewhat spiky, jet-black hair has hot pink dyed tips. 

     His yellow eyes with black sclera narrow in building rage. 

     Your body stands unable to respond.

     “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

     Your eyes dart around in their sockets, searching vigorously for a good place to hide. In doing so, you note the sign taped onto the now-visible front of the door, telling you that, whoever this man is, his name is, (or at least he calls himself), “MJ 182”.

     “YOU…YOU! No. Nah. You know what?”

     MJ 182’s abrupt drop in volume sends a jostle of terror through your nerves.

     “GET’CH’YO ASS OVER HERE YOU PUNY LITTLE SHIT!”

     And thus, your body chooses flight.

     Jerking down onto all fours, your limbs propel you past MJ 182 and into the white carpeted hallway, following the sprinting motions of a wild mouse. Thrusting your arms outwards as your legs finish launching you forth, the slight amount of airtime you experience gives you the moments you need to haul your arms back towards your chest.

     “HEY! GET BACK HERE!” 

     You sense MJ 182 calling out behind you before heavy, rushing footsteps pound out the door. With them progressively gaining volume as time continues, it then becomes apparent that running away is no longer an option.

     Heaving your head upwards, your peripheral vision examines the states of the wooden doors on both sides of you. A slight crack in one door on the left lurches your attention to it, dragging your form behind as a result.

     Skidding to a halt on the dark red striped carpet once hidden behind the door’s shape, you soon hear MJ 182 sprinting past. Thus, you spend a few seconds hunched over, hands on your knees, simply catching your breath. Until the door creaks open and a looming shadow shrouds your field of view.

     Your body chooses freeze, and you find yourself unable to breathe. A pure white hand wraps its fingers around you to hoist you up off the floor. Your being gives a spasm as you brace to meet MJ 182’s furious, poignant face.

     A face bearing a tender, sympathetic gaze meets your frail form instead.

     “...who are you?” the face asks, with a smooth, soft, and gentle tone of voice. 

     “...why are you so cold?” it continues, with discernible rising concern.

     The face bears a pair of round, pink glasses, and a large purple hat with two long strips of cloth at each side. Two yellow strings dangle at the end of each strip, and atop the hat are two yellow horns. A light blue stripe lies upon the hat’s brim, under which hangs strands of jet-black hair.

     “Hey…I’m KC Glow.” The man eventually introduces himself. His other hand, retreated inside the long sleeve of his dark red striped hoodie-sweater which he wore backwards, rises up to give you a cautious stroke. “You were probably caught out in the winter storm…here, I’ll try to warm you up.”

     With that, KC Glow begins blowing humid air onto you from his dark purple mouth, before his sweater-covered palm delicately rubs itself over your body. With each huff, the steamy mist sinks deeper into your skin, ensconcing you within its breadth.

     A wavering exhale shivers out of your lungs, the tension in your muscles releasing.

     “KC GLOW? DID YOU SEE ANYTHING ENTER YOUR ROOM?”

     In the following moments, KC Glow’s instincts take over. With his eyes and sense of time both dilating in tandem, the palm that holds your being flies forwards, flinging you en route to his widened mouth. The instant a heavy weight lands on his tongue, his jaws click together.

     Suddenly, you are consciously aware of your situation. Gazing silently upon the rough ridges on KC Glow’s hard palate, while sprawled out on your back in immobilizing shock, you eventually turn your head to the right. Resting it upon the heated, squishy, dark purple tongue, you start becoming more attentive to the natural heat within the fleshy chamber. A voice then calls from outside.

     “KC GLOW?” MJ 182’s voice, lowered in both volume and intensity, repeats the man’s name. The door squeaks open as he enters the room.

     “Uh…eauh…no…I didt ee aythin…” KC Glow stammers in response, doing his best to not move his tongue or open his lips significantly.

     You press your back deep into the warm, pillowy muscle.

     “...what?” MJ 182 responds with genuine confusion.

     KC Glow’s jaws internally stretch as far as they can before his tongue swings to the right, dropping you into his right cheek. The slick, malleable pocket of dark purple muscle bulges outwards. KC Glow immediately attempts to suck in his cheek as close to his jaws as is comfortable for you.

     “I said I didn’t see anything!”

     You attempt to stand up as straight as possible in the curved pouch, your feet stabilizing you against KC Glow’s lower gum line. 

     MJ 182 raises an eyebrow just slightly. The sudden enlargement of the cheek hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. “Hey, what’s that in your cheek?”

     “What?” KC Glow asks in palpable discomfort.

     “Yeah, I saw that happen!” MJ 182’s voice raises in a subtle, accusatory tone. “What was that?”

     “...........air.”

     MJ 182’s eyebrows drop to his narrowed eyes. “Really, now?”

     With MJ 182 making his suspicions very obvious, reality slugs you in the face. You won’t be able to hide in here for much longer. The second KC Glow’s mouth was pried opened, it would be all over, probably for the both of you. 

     Left with literally no other option, your eyes begin to shift towards KC Glow’s dark purple pharynx.

     “Say aaaaah.”

     Thus, it became your turn for time to dilate around you.

     Crouching down and leaping through the gap between KC Glow’s jaws, your body rebounds upon the springy, sleek surface of the tongue. Swiveling around midair towards the back of KC Glow’s throat, the subsequent bounce launches your momentum forwards, resulting in a collision with the man’s bulbous, dangling, dark purple uvula. Gravity drags you to the ground near the root of the tongue, the uvula swinging frantically above you, where you’re able to gaze into KC Glow’s laryngopharynx below. The front of your face can just barely detect the short, heavy breaths heaving in and out the man’s lungs through his larynx. His vocal cords almost appear tightened from inability to respond to MJ 182.

     Shoving your arms up underneath your chest, you push the weight of your being forwards, and watch as the epiglottis flops over the laryngeal inlet whilst the pharyngeal constrictor muscles slip you past the upper esophageal sphincter.

     And then, everything was over.

     “Come on, buddy. Open up. You don’t have anything to hide in there, do you?”

     “No!”

     “Then open up!”

     That's when KC Glow became aware that you’re no longer inside his mouth. Yet, with his top priority at the moment being getting MJ 182 off his case, he opens it up. Any and all thoughts and emotions about this fact would have to wait until later.

     MJ 182 shoves his face right up to the thing, to find… nothing. Eyes narrowing in instantaneous disbelief, he steps back to angle his view towards KC Glow’s left cheek pouch. Empty. Then his right cheek pouch. Empty as well.

     “Push your tongue all the way out.” he orders. 

     KC Glow obliges.

     Glaring zealously down at KC Glow’s pharynx, his tonsils, larynx, and epiglottis all on full display, MJ 182 spends twenty-three seconds strenuously examining the area. Only to come up empty, again.

     Steadily pulling back his mellowed, yet flabbergasted face, he merely stands still for a few seconds, dumbfounded to his very core.

     “Dang. I…guess I was wrong.”

     Within the resulting silence, KC Glow detects something relatively large and bulky squelching its way down his esophagus.

     “I uh…wow. Sorry about that, man.” MJ 182 continues. Realizing seconds later that KC Glow is still in shock from the whole situation, he turns towards the door, instead of waiting for a response. “I’m just gonna leave you alone now.” he concludes before turning the doorknob, walking out, and closing the door behind him.

     Halfway down KC Glow’s esophagus, you realize you are finally safe.

     Your body huffs out a shudder whilst the esophageal muscles behind you contract. The muscles in front of you simultaneously relax, squeezing you further down towards KC Glow’s stomach.

     And yet, that fact doesn’t scare you at all.

     Why would it?

     KC Glow on the outside, meanwhile, finally processes the situation.

     “Uh………are you ok in there?” he pulls himself together sufficiently enough to ask.

     It’s a little difficult to hear him since you’ve slipped into his chest region by now, causing his heart rate to boom through your form, but you nonetheless attempt to assure him that you feel perfectly safe at the moment.

     “Great! Should I get you out now?” There is a rising undertone of panic present in his voice.

     In an effort to quench this panic, you assure KC Glow with full confidence that you’re going to be perfectly fine.

     The instant your words hit KC Glow’s brain, he jostles in a horrified stun, his brain crackling and staggering in error as it fails to process your words. His nervous system frazzles with confusion and uncertainty. Instinct, intuition, and rationality all come to the same consensus. He inhales a labored breath in an attempt to say something about the danger you’re in, semi-voluntarily lifting a finger as he does. Only to realize after that he has absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it.

      Deep inside KC Glow’s dark purple esophagus, a subtle grin of comfort forms on your face as you soak in the tactile sensation of the cushiony esophageal walls which squeeze in against your being before releasing. The rhythmic squelching presses the walls’ natural heat and glossy texture against your skin. Though of course, you know it’s only a matter of time before the esophagus would drop you to your ultimate destination.

     A deep, echoey gurgle releases somewhere below you, and you give a nod of acknowledgment that that time is soon approaching. 

     KC Glow, meanwhile, remains locked in incapacity to wrap his head around your current behavior. Your profound, unwavering confidence in your safety. Any possible logic, any possible interpretation, anything that would make it all make sense. He simply can’t find it.

     “But…how?! How are you so sure you’ll be ok?!” he eventually yelps out, the tension and worry even stronger in his voice. He sits himself down upon the edge of his light red blanketed bed, just in case his sense of balance fails him.

     You almost feel sorry that KC Glow doesn’t know. But you know. You always know. Unable to provide him the full answer, you simply insist he trust you on this. 

     KC Glow senses a twinge in his heart. For a while, the muscle beats at allegro. His vocal cords quiver with well foreseen inarticulacy. What to do in this situation is something entirely lost to him.

     Eventually, however, he resigns himself to silence as he scoots himself into the wall which his bed lies against. He places a sweater-covered hand over his abdominal region, and braces himself for the worst. His heart settles back to moderato. 

     Grounded upon this slow, steady tempo, the low-tone stomach below provides a rumbling melody. Improvised solos of growls and gurgles periodically interject. Occasionally, a high-pitched note is reached, before the peak gives way to the valley once more.

     At last, the lower esophageal sphincter enters your view. The instant your head is squeezed out, you can see that KC Glow’s stomach walls, like the rest of his digestive system, are colored dark purple. Finally, the rest of your body slips beyond the esophagus, and you plunge into the juices below.

     KC Glow convulses as he senses the resulting splash. His stomach begins sloshing and churning more actively, and gives an audible growl from the outside.

     “I-” KC Glow’s eyes begin to well up as the reality of the situation fully kicks in. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ARE YOU ALIVE?” tears begin to stream down his cheeks as the prospect of receiving no answer ruthlessly overwhelms his mind and senses.

     “Yeah I’m alive!” you respond. 

     Why wouldn’t you be?

     Standing within the pool of harmless stomach juices, you begin to wade your way over to the stomach walls.

     “B-But aren’t you questioning why the liquids aren’t digesting you? ‘Cause I am! Why is it not digesting you? How-how is this working? WHY? HOW?” KC Glow cries with a strained, shaky voice.

     Sealed within KC Glow’s stomach, you are only able to shrug your shoulders. 

     You knew how it worked. You just never questioned why it worked. Why would you question it? What would the point even be?

     You tell KC Glow that there’s no point in questioning it, as you lie yourself down against the squishy, cushiony walls.

     “.....so you’re going to be ok?” a wholly defeated KC Glow squeaks out.

     Snuggling up against the goopy, churning walls of his stomach, you assure KC Glow that you’re both perfectly fine, and extremely comfortable.

     You nuzzle your head into the warm, pillowy, shifting smooth muscles, before rubbing them over with your hands, hoping this will help him calm down. 

     “...I don’t understand how you can just…accept it. Even if you don’t get hurt.” KC Glow speaks up again. “Don’t you want to know why, and how this is happening? This goes against…everything we know, and you act like it’s completely normal! Like everyone knows that, how, and why this works! You should be getting scientists to do a case study on you! You could be famous! You could take partial credit for any scientific advances that happen from the scientific community understanding what’s happening right now!”

     With the gurgles echoing around your ears, and the stomach’s internal heat ensconcing your skin, you attempt to dissapear into the surrounding ambiance.

     “I was terrified for your life, and you acted like you expected me to act the same as you! Don’t you understand how-” KC Glow’s speech halts. 

     “No…no…that’s enough from me. That’s more than enough.” you can sense deep regret in his voice.

     “Please forget I said anything at all! You just wanted to get comfortable after getting through a life-or-death situation, and now I’m just…” a silent, steady flow of tears trickles from KC Glow’s tear ducts and onto the body of his sweater over his abdominal region. He places his two sweater-sleeve covered hands on top of the area.

     “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” he sobs audibly before his head falls straight into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

     Sinking deeper into KC Glow’s rumbling, cushiony stomach walls, you ponder what you could possibly say to make the poor man feel better.

[yandereloversblog]

Chifuyu yan vs dere where u tell him that u can’t see him other than soft 😭 this man frfr knows how to hide his rough side

❤ 𝐘𝐚𝐧 𝐕𝐒 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞 💘 -> 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Neither can I cuz HE ♡- also I'm not gonna take any requests for today cuz the event was suppose to be over after October started and stuff- so I'll just be writing the requests that are left.

💘 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞 💘

"What?" Chifuyu blinked at your sudden confession "I just can't." You repeated with a sigh, head on his shoulder while staring down at the manga you were both reading "You're so good to me Fuyu, I know you're in somewhat of gang but I really can't see that. You're always such a softie." Your face nuzzled the soft hoodie he was wearing.

"I'm literally one of the best fighters there! I'm not soft- I can be really mean if I want to!" When you looked up from his shoulder you saw Chifuyu pouting and you couldn't help but to coo, reaching up and pinching his cheek "Yeah I know, good job Fuyu~ so cute~" The male playfully narrowed his eyes into a glare but then nuzzled your hand, losing his pouty expression to lean closer to your face and gently kiss your cheek.

"As long as you... You like it then I'll be even softer for you [Y/N], I'd do anything..." Chifuyu mumbled gently, his facial features relaxing when he whispered out the sentence, your face heated up when his arm wrapped around your waist and then he hugged you, burying his face on your shoulder.

You waited for a minute, getting over the small shock and the way your heart skipped a beat to chuckle and pat his head "Did you get embarrassed?~" A grin appeared on your face once noticing how even his ears had turned red at this point 'Cute~' Especially once Chifuyu nodded his head to admit the question, lightly gripping at your shirt. You hummed softly and hugged back your boyfriend, waiting until he got over his embarrassed state.

"I'm so lucky to have you, [Y/N]~" And once he did Chifuyu mumbled happily, leaning just inches away from your face with a happy grin and red face "I love you so much." The blond's grin softened into an adoring smile and loving look "Everyday when I wake up I feel so happy because I know I have you in my life!"

❤ 𝐘𝐚𝐧 ❤

Chifuyu stared at the tied up man on the ground; his hands tainted with blood, eyes narrowed into a cold glare while Chifuyu harshly stepped on his chest without hesitation, groaning in annoyance at the muffled pained scream "So disgusting and weak, this hurts for you doesn't it?" The blond snarled and stepped off, expression twisted as if he just tasted something sour.

Chifuyu then crouched down in front of the beat up person "But you know what hurts more?" His blue-green eyes held disdain and insanity as he punched the already beat up face yet again "The shit you did to [Y/N]." And again, cracking sounds being heard "Don't you know all the trouble you made for my [Y/N] caused them to get stressed?" Chifuyu started panting from the rage building up "Fucking bastards like you deserve a trip to hell as soon as possible!" Seeing tears running down the man's face Chifuyu all but scowled, no ounce of sympathy in his rough glare.

"Quit doing that shit with me. Do you think I'll feel pity because you're crying? Huh? Maybe you should've thought with that small brain of yours to have treated my [Y/N] better." Chifuyu didn't care if this was just your classmate who had dipped when you were both doing a project, you canceled a date because you were stressed to complete it in time, Chifuyu is so worried for your health now! Nor like the last time when someone bumped into you during a date and dropped their coffee on you- Chifuyu knows they purposely spilled it on you to burn you! Your poor arm stayed red for a few days after!

Chifuyu hummed, a blank face with wide eyes, small pupils staring down at the body in a crazed state "If I let you go you'll tell my [Y/N] and lie to them about something. Not to mention you'll scare them with that disgusting blood." Chifuyu trusted you, but who knows what this trash could make you think "I guess I'll kill you then~" The outcome wasn't going to be any different anyways. The male grinned and stood up, grabbing the tied up person by the collar of their bloody and dirty shirt to drag them away.

"Wonder where should I bury you... I'm somewhat glad Toman is starting to get dirtier, this shit is so easy to cover up now~" Chifuyu chuckled to himself, taking his phone out and seeing a picture of you as the lockscreen, eyes immediately lighting up in adoration "Don't worry [Y/N]~ I'll take care of all the trash that dare bother you, you deserve nothing but the best my darling~"

[themarginalthinker]

Saves Nine

(Marko can't find his sewing kit, so he and Paul look for it. They find Dwayne in a bit of a state. A look into how Dwayne's vampiric bane manifests sometimes)

-

"Ow, fuck," Paul hisses, shaking out his fingers as he works on his bass.

He eyes the red line between fingertips, knowing it will be gone by the end of the evening, but also knowing it's going to be majorly annoying. He's waited too long to get all the strings on his beloved instrument replaced and now he's paying the price.

From the other side of the quiet den, Marko wanders in. In his hands is a jacket.

Denim, sturdy. It's new, the actual fabric of the original article still the main base of the structure, but Marko has been steadily working on replacing that. Like the Ship of Theseus, transforming it bit by bit into something unique. Embroidered sections stood starkly contrasted with pre-constructed patches, buttons starting to dot one sleeve, real silk ribbons snaking their way through the shoulder and cuff of the other side. No one was ever quite sure what drove Marko's design choices for his art - interest, pique, maybe just sparkly - but it was always fun to watch the piece come together, themes and transitions between sections revealing themselves in unexpected ways.

Right now though, Marko was looking less than pleased with his project. Well. Not quite the project itself.

He looks up at Paul, tucked away in his window nook about ten feet off the ground, accessable only to someone able to defy conventional laws of gravity. He catches Paul's eye, who just raises a brow.

"Where is my sewing kit."

Paul's brow now furrows. He shrugs a little.

"I dunno. I'm not your stuff's keeper, dude."

Marko growls, mouth setting into a line as he comes closer.

"I put it with your boxes of CDs. I know I did, because Thorn broke the shelf I normally keep it on and that was the next best place."

"I didn't touch your stitch kit, Marko," Paul sighs.

Marko throws his arms out, looking incredulous. "So, what, it just got up and walked away?"

Paul testily drops the little philip's head screwdriver he'd been working with into its own box of various other tools, snapping the lid shut decisively. He sets aside his bass, leaning it against the nook wall, and then jumps down.

He lands with a whisper on the ground, socked feet and joints of a predator built for taking much further falls swallowing whatever sound might have been made. Marko watches with a grouchy expression.

"I'll help you find it, huh?" Paul concedes. He was getting tired fingers from stretching strings anyway. "Mike probably moved it while looking for something."

Marko's mouth loosens a little, deal accepted.

"If he did, I'm taking it out on his ass - one for every minute it's gone."

Paul snickers, leaning into his mate's side as he rumbles like a displeased engine. "Easy, tiger. Babyteeth knows his place, you don't gotta go feral on him every chance you get."

Marko smirks, not letting up the growl, but letting it fade into something a little softer. "You like to watch when I do."

"Well, obviously."

They share a look at the possibility of potentially getting to do something more active and just as satisfying with their evening if they indeed found Michael as their wanted culprit, and start wandering the sprawling haven.

The old cabin had already been something of a small maze when they'd found (or, been directed, rather) to the abandoned building, and since hollowing it out and then making their inhuman additions, it had become somewhat labyrinthian. Doors leading to rooms stuffed with things, little nests tucked away, bookshelves filled or in the process of being so. Clothing in boxes, random bits and bobs shoved wherever the pack chose to drop them.

The room with Paul's current curated collection of music disks was thoroughly assessed, top to bottom. Marko looks over ever corner of the room, sure in his own memory, and not understanding why reality isn't matching.

Maybe someone needed something from it, and just didn't ask him? But they usually did, and it wasn't like they didn't usually have their own stashes to use...

Paul makes a noise, disgruntled. Yeah, same mood, Marko thinks.

Then across the bond, the why for that sound makes itself known. Not displeasure at Marko's quest having failed, but something of his having been disturbed. Marko blinks and looks up to Paul.

Paul has pulled a box down from a shelf and is pawing at the cases inside. Flipping through them, one by one, before looking up at Marko.

"Dude, they're not supposed to be like this."

"What?"

Paul lifts a lip, a hint of sharpness showing. "I put all the years together because it's how I want to find them - look," he tilts down the box to show Marko, who cocks his head. "Cassettes, LPs, and disks. Now it's. It's just CDs. What the fuck-"

He drops the box on the ground and starts yanking others off the shelves, and sure enough, almost all of them have been rearranged. It's going to take hours, nights even, to put it back how he'd had it before.

Marko and Paul look at the new mess, and then to each other.

An idea floats between their heads, finally catching the spark and illuminating.

Together, they extend the bond out, and find who they're now both looking for.

-

Dwayne is upstairs, a room just below the attic. He sits on the floor (covered with many different rugs of all kinds), and before his crossed legs, spans an array of things.

Another box of music. An ungodly array of pens and markers, all attempted to be lined up in some unknown way. All the shoes from various places they'd wound up in the den. A jar of rusted nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and yes, there in Dwayne's hands currently, Marko's sewing box.

Dwayne's fingers flicked over embroidery floss, spools of thread, the pincushion having been relieved of all its needles which had been lined up from smallest to largest on the damn floor.

Marko feels a flash of anger, sucking in a breath and starting to take a step forward...but when Dwayne's eyes flash up to him, connecting minds...

Thorn had been gone for a while - a week now, out on excursion. David and Michael had left a couple hours ago, wouldn't be back until almost dawn most likely. Dwayne had finished tuning up the bikes, making sure the van was functional. He'd wandered in the woods for a while, didn't find anything particularly interesting. In the middle of spring as it was, the animal activity had been so...loud. Nothing to distract him.

Paul sighs. "I'll get the jar."

Marko stepped closer, hands reaching out for his kit, but as he does, Dwayne's lips lift, flashing long, white teeth. The faintest growl in his throat. A threat against anyone who dares to disrupt the order, the flow he's created in the arranged items. Woe befall the poor sod who fucks with them before he's finished.

There's an immediate apology in the bond.

Marko sighs through his nose. Not withdrawing his hand - it's his stuff - but not pushing it.

After a few minutes, Paul returns. He sets the large gallon tub down in front of Dwayne, who locks eyes on it immediately, predator focus zeroing in.

"Carpet or floor, bud?" Paul asks.

Dwayne's jaw flexes a few times, teeth unlocking from their tense clench.

"...Carpet."

Paul nods. He unsnaps the lid of the jar, and upends it.

Across the floor, hundreds of beads spill out. They range in every possible style, size, and material. Wood, plastic, metal, ones shaped like flowers, animal heads, chunky and clacking to minuscule and sinking into the folds of the rugs.

Dwayne's on them in a second. Fingers digging into the pile, spreading them out so he can see them all. One hand reaches over, almost absent-mindedly, and grabs up a needle from Marko's sewing box, and begins using it to start scooping up the smallest beads. Already they can hear him muttering under his breath in counting. Locked with supernatural concentration. It would take an act of Hell to move him now.

Marko just scoops up his sewing materials, placing them back how he wants into their container. Paul crouches by Dwayne, mindful of his activity. He lays a gentle hand on his shoulders.

"They'll be back, man. They always come back."

Dwayne knows. But the absence, the inability to line them all up where he can see them, feel them close, have them all in their proper places...

Across the bond, he sends his thanks to his packmates, for this small relief.

Paul pats him a couple times, before leaving with Marko.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hello, rotting again too many thoughts, too little of a brain. SR is chillin with the one of the boys and its golden hour (when the sun hits just right and makes you look <33) and sun is hitting her just right making her look all pretty. And she's just talking about how a tomato is a fruit or not, and she turns to look at them, and her eyes staring at them with the sun hitting her so prettily is just so intense. That suddenly, they are unable to answer her,; just stuttering, or unable to find the the will to form words at all(seeing flustered Giorno or Bruno who always is so suave now trying to speak but their toungue feels so useless, unable to form words, and now simply opening and closing their mouths like a fish, trying to save their pride) as SR's eyes slowly go softer from her previous excitement into more of a mellow confusion, asking them if something is wrong, even putting their hand on their head to see if they are sick. And most of the boys have never had this experience before, seeing someone so pretty that they can't even speak properly (we've all had those moments irl, ik I have) and they 're all red in the face and even the ears are red. (even better if they're not dating and the boys just flounder about, Narancia genuinely thinking it's a stand attack fighting for his life just to form a sentence, while Fungo and Abbachio just can't handle and look away or even walk away 💀Mista trying so hard to make a joke out of it, while beat red in the face ) End of rot rant, sorry if i'm sending in too much stuff.

you have nothing to apologize for omg,... these are beloved asks... i am cradling them gently in my hands ....

'And she's just talking about how a tomato is a fruit or not,' LMAO i love this it captures SR reader's energy so perfectly tyhjrtkmg

giorno would be sighing, resting his chin on his palm, feeling kinda bad for zoning out because he likes you to know you have his attention but. his brain stopped working properly. he can't think of anything especially dazzling to say, just that he sometimes struggles to believe you're real. bruno would be stuck in a similarly difficult predicament. you just make him feel so warm on the inside and in moments like this, it's almost too much. you make him feel human again. his responsibilities melt away, nothing aside from you registering. he could get drunk on the feeling.

fugo hits you with the legendary line 'stop... doing that. being... pretty.' shakespeare who? he screams into his pillow that night in embarrassment. it's amazing how you can turn such an intelligent man into a blubbering fool. he doesn't mind nearly as much as he lets on. abbacchio just getting up and walking away though PFF he'd be clutching his chest the second he left the room, trying to regain himself while your footsteps pad on over. you motivate him to get a physical again to make sure everything's working right in there. he's fine, though, just lovesick to a worrying degree. he has no idea how you do it.

narancia ... he's such a sweetheart... he already feels emotions so strongly, so this is messing him up. in a good way though. you'd have to reassure him that no, this isn't a stand attack (probably?), and that he's got to calm down. take some deep breaths. you'll think it's the cutest thing ever when he explains his reasoning. mista does a somewhat better job at playing it cool, since he always wants to give off this debonair vibe. chokes on his spit a little though and ruins the atmosphere. if pistols have been filched a snack recently, the little snitches will gather around to profess mista's innermost thoughts to you. apparently he's convinced a religion could be started in your honor.

[wordsbymae]

hiiiii i’m new here but i love your writing and your characters!! especially, and predictably, alwyn, BOY do i read all his stuff over and over just foaming at the mouth 💖💖💖 thinking about him has my brain firing on all synapses and ik you’ve already kind of covered this but it still got me thinking about reader eventually leaning into the dirty nicknames and treatment because she knows it’s his way of showing love, and she’s just so desperate for validation she’ll do whatever it takes for the positive attention, plus being surrounded by rowdy outlaws for so long would slowly wear down her noble reservations, not to the point where she’s any more comforted by being rammed into out in the open, but when it’s just her and alwyn she lets loose a little bit, crying out for him and agreeing whenever he calls her his little whore, as long as shes his, and he’s just ecstatic that she’s so into it, grinning and silly and love-drunk the whole session, the happiest he’d ever been and thinking she was too, at least until he catches reader by herself, with tears plopping onto the pages of a pure-hearted romantic scene in her book, or sadly singing and dancing the way she imagined she would on her wedding day, mourning what could have been, and it just wrecks him to see her silently suffering, to the point where he goes out of his way to listen in on things cheesy things couples say before stripping them clean of all their valuables, even skimming through and stealing a couple lines from the books he stole for her (if he can even read idk if not dw lol), doing his damndest to restrain himself and be a bit softer with her and switch from his go-to “compliments” to the flowery language that’s so foreign on his tongue but is instantly overshadowed by the heightened warmth and whimpers from you, all in all putting in that extra effort so he can love you the way that would make you happiest, and reader’s heart just SOARS and she falls for him all the more and alwyn adores the positive feedback which encourages him to do it more and they just go back and forth and oh my GOD i’m obsessed sorry here take my brainrot—

Hi!!!! Welcome!! It's so nice to talk to you!

I wanna say thank you so much for all of this ^^^^^^^^^^ It made me so happy and I'm so grateful!!!!!!!

Anyway moving on!!!

Oh boy! I never thought Alwyn would become my most popular oc, especially since I thought what I wrote was not very relatable, so it makes me so happy to see everyone loving him! Fun fact I stole his name from a character out of a book I was reading at the time. I kinda had a crush on the character soooooo..........

You are spot on!!!! The reader is so so desperate to be loved and seen as attractive she is willing to throw all her self-respect out the window. It would take some time to feel somewhat comfortable with him calling her vulgar words. I still think she would hate being called a heifer and a whore, but I think she allows some others. He loves calling her sweet cheeks, his pretty little slut and yeah while she absolutely hates being called his little whore she sees how much he loves it and in an attempt to not rock the boat she lets him. But not in public!!!! She has and will slap him if he calls her that in public. And pretty little heifer is a massive no-no, even though he fucking loves calling her that!!!!!! She still sees it as a dig or backhanded compliment about her looks or size.

She used to yelp and blush and hide away when he slapped her ass or squeezed it, in the early days he would do that and worse in front of his men. After days of him and his men laughing at her beet red or adorable yelps after being slapped and squeezed, Alwyn makes the mistake of surprising her from behind and squeezing her tits. The reader is livid and Alwyn sleeps outside for a whole week. He never does that shit in public again, but he will do it behind closed doors. He acts like a teenage boy sometimes. Reader bends over and grabs her hips and pretends to rut into her from behind. He gets her to sit on his lap during dinner and smirks when she complains about his dagger sheath.

Oh yeah! She wants to be reminded daily she's his, that she's someone, that someone wants her. And his just this stupid man acting like a fuckhead. He's so fucked out and happy he doesn't notice anything, how she cringes when he calls her his little whore, or how she keeps grabbing his hand to hold it when he fucks her from behind, desperate to feel like he loves, cares and respects her.

YES!!!!!!!!! She loves reading romance books and will stay up way past midnight reading and swooning and crying. She gets upset the most during proposals, courting scenes and sex scenes. The men are so caring and romantic and actually gentle with their women. Reader never got any of that, she was never courted, wasn't proposed to and sex with Alwyn is all grunts and moans and dirty words. There aren't any gentle touches or soft confessions.

And the dancing?????? YES!!!!!!!!! She was told as a kid that she should never marry someone if she hasn't danced with them first. And she has never danced with anyone. Expect her father and other male relatives. She's never been asked and never had a man hold her tight in such a sweet embrace. She gets really really sad one night when the bandits have a party. Some of them start to ask each other to dance, and she looks at Alwyn with such hope. Instead, he just laughs at the others and tells her why dance when you can just fuck each other, not realising he's just broken her heart.

Omg!!! What an idea. He is so desperate to be romantic, something he's never been, he's making notes and obsessing over it like he would a heist. Yeah, he can read! His father was a knight so he was expected to follow in his footsteps!

The reader would get such a shock when he starts being romantic. at first, she's scared that it's just a cruel joke. He's gonna tear it down and mock her and her wanting of true love. But as the days pass, he is more heartfelt and gentle with her and she just swoons over him.

He starts writing her letters, asks to meet her in secluded areas for a picnic and no sex, and gives her gentle touches when he walks past, barely touching her hand. The reader feels as though he's courting her and she fucking loves it. It makes her so happy to feel as though he is trying to get her attention and prove himself. And Alwyn is so happy cause shes actually talking to him now not just replying to what he's saying.

Then comes another party, couples start to dance and the reader is left sitting alone, for her this is normal until Alwyn comes into sight holding out his hand and asking for the pleasure of her company. They dance all night and the reader is laughing and giggles. And Alwyn is just in awe at her.

Thank you so much for sending that in and I loved it! Feel free to send whatever you want in!!!!!!!!

Lots of love,

mae xx

[greatideas-badwriter]

SasuSaku: Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Chapter 5

Akuma was gone when Sakura next woke, leading her to believe the prince had regained control of his body at sunrise and left.

'All these things have happened, and I've yet to speak with the prince face to face.'

She had no idea what type of personality the Uchiha man had because he'd always been shrouded in mystery. All she had to go on were the rumors that circulated the halls of her home and what Akuma had said.

Two days passed without catching a glimpse of Prince Uchiha, day or night. Sakura was too afraid of what Akuma would do if he found out she wasn't taking care of herself, so she'd given up refusing meals. It didn't take long for her strength to begin returning.

The Haruno woman had so many thoughts and worries swirling around in her head that she often became dazed. 'Should I trust Akuma to give me a purpose in life? Is it okay to allow a demon to determine my future?'

She didn't hate the idea of having her decisions made for her because that was how she'd lived her life thus far. She'd never known anything else. Her concern was what would happen if her family discovered the prince's secret. If they asked, what would she do? Should she tell them? They were her family, after all, and she owed them for keeping her alive all this time.

But what about Akuma?

He was a bloodthirsty and prideful being, but he vowed to destroy anyone who'd bring harm her way. How long will his attention last? Was it just temporary because he was amused? In the end, Sakura decided to just do as the demon wished because if he did grow tired, she'd be in the same place she should've been all along: dead.

On day three after waking from her long sleep, Sakura was sitting at the windowsill in the massive library with an open book in her lap as the falling snow distracted her attention. It wasn't the first time she'd seen the elegant precipitation, but it was rare for it to be so thick and constant where the Haruno estate was located.

She quite hated snow because it reminded her of the times she'd been sent out to shovel it without proper garments. Every year, she'd get deathly ill from carrying out such orders, and every year, her family didn't bat an eye. Even the maids and butlers were given thicker clothing than her.

The memories sent a shiver down her spine.

"Are you cold, Lady Haruno?"

Sakura turned her head in surprise to see a somewhat familiar face. 'It's the prince! Why is he here now? And Why?' Gasping, the woman got to her feet so she could properly bow her head, "My Lord, it's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"Please raise your head. If one of us should show our respect, it should be me." The Haruno woman's spine straightened as she watched in awe as the prince bowed his head, a hand to his chest as though something there was causing pain. "There is nothing I can do that will ever sufficiently make amends for what I've put you through, but please allow me to properly apologize. Because of my negligence, you've experienced such terror."

'He's...different from Akuma.'

Not only was his personality much less demanding, but his features were somehow softer. Red eyes were a deep black and filled with exhaustion and sadness. His lips seemed unable to turn upright, instead stuck in an attractive frown. The overwhelming, petrifying energy that Akuma often had crackling around his aura was gone, leaving something that felt tragic and self-loathing.

'So this is the monstrous second prince. He's nothing like the rumors.'

If Sakura didn't know the truth of his curse, she'd consider herself extremely lucky to have been sent to marry such a polite and mild-mannered man. His beauty was out of this world, too, regardless of which personality was present.

"N-No, please don't lower your head, My Lord! It's improper!" Prince Uchiha straightened his posture, his brow slightly furrowed as he spoke, "In our situation, I fear formalities and expectations would be a luxury."

'...He seems so sad....'

She very much disliked such a negative emotion on someone who seemed so pure, so she attempted to flatter him, "Above all else, you are a prince of the royal Uchiha family and should be shown only the highest value of respect. It pains me to sense the consideration of your unworthiness."

The man seemed mildly stunned but quickly overcame it. He gestured toward the window, asking in what almost seemed an unsure manner, "You were looking outside. Are you partial to winter weather?"

'I think he's trying to determine if I find the living conditions bearable.'

Sakura lied, closing her book and holding it to her stomach while glancing out at the snow once more, "It seems so peaceful at this estate. I've never experienced such an elegant environment."

"...."

He didn't speak, so the woman looked his way again, only to see him staring at her with an unfamiliar expression. "My Lord?"

He shook his head and changed the subject, gesturing at the book in her hands, "You seem to enjoy literature."

A warmth met Sakura's cheeks. She bashfully brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze, admitting quietly, "I've found comfort in books since I was a child. My youngest sister and I share this trait."

"Yes...regarding your sister. Would you mind joining me for tea? There's an important matter to discuss," The prince suddenly felt more awkward than before, which made Sakura uncomfortable, but she had no choice but to agree. The pair walked in silence to one of the tea rooms.

Once they were served and alone, the Uchiha cleared his throat, "I understand this topic may be sensitive as I don't have much information to base my questions from." He unblinkingly met Sakura's gaze, his guarded emotions becoming more so, "May I speak bluntly, My Lady?"

She bowed her head, "Of course."

"Everyone in this manor, myself included, believed you to be Lady Haruka Haruno, eldest daughter of The Baron."

'I shouldn't be surprised. Almost no one outside of my home knows of my existence,' Sakura took a sip of her tea to give herself time to come up with a response, 'I wish Father would've at least sent a letter of explanation. Would he wish for me to lie? If I make my family appear negatively in the prince's eyes, it'd be doing them a disservice.'

"I see. If I'd known, I would've properly introduced myself sooner. Please accept my apologies." The Haruno woman steeled her nerves and plastered on a calm expression, a skill she'd had much time to perfect, "My name is Sakura Haruno, eldest daughter of Baron Haruno. I am twenty-two years of age."

She lowered her eyes and voice to answer the question she knew was coming, "I was never properly debuted into society due to my shortcomings. I beg of you not to blame my father. I'm sure his intention was not to deceive you."

The prince's eyes studied her in a way that made her feel as though he wasn't missing a single detail. His tone was straight, "What are these shortcomings you've mentioned?"

'Oh, no. I didn't expect him to ask that. ...What do I say?' When Sakura thought back on all the reasons she'd been given for her treatment over the years, she had enough sense not to reiterate them to a member of the royal family. 'He'll surely send me home in an instant if I answer honestly.'

"I-I hope you don't mind my hesitance to respond. You see, I've been awaiting a chance to speak with you about our betrothal. I fear if I focus on the negative aspects I have to offer, you'll be discouraged and reject me once more, My Lord."

Prince Uchiha sipped his tea with a face that said he understood that she wanted to avoid the topic. He cleared his throat while setting the glass down again, "The Curse did tell you I may reconsider since he's given his blessing."

"...Was he mistaken?"

The room became silent for a very long time while the duo stared at one another. Eventually, Sasuke spoke, but he didn't answer her question, "How much do you know about my condition?"

"O-Oh, well, I know that Akuma takes control of your body at night-" "Respectfully, do not refer to The Curse as though he's a human while in my presence, My Lady."

Sakura swallowed nervously but agreed, "Right, my apologies. As I was saying, I'm aware The Curse has control of your mind and body at night. I suspect he at least is aware of some things that occur during the day when he isn't in control. Other than that...."

"I see," Sasuke sipped his tea again before explaining, "I was given this burden at the age of twelve by a wizard who held a grudge against the royal family. Before his death, he stated there is a way to rid my body of this sickness."

"Truly?"

"Yes. In his words, I will only be rid of The Curse once I lose someone I hold incredibly dear."

"If that's the case, have your previous fiance's died because-" "Only two have perished, neither on purpose."

Her mouth clamped shut in shock, but she quickly swallowed and asked, "You've been unsuccessful in finding someone you hold dear?"

"That is not accidental, My Lady."

'...What is he saying?' "You've purposefully distanced yourself, then?"

"Yes."

'I don't understand. If he needs to find someone to hold dear and lose them in order to save himself from this torment, why hasn't he-!' Sakura's eyes widened, filling to the brim with tears. The prince's gaze dropped, an aura of shame filling the room. "You...You've done this to protect those around you."

'Prince Uchiha and Akuma are two very different people. This man before me is willing to suffer for his entire life if it means that no one will be knowingly sacrificed for the sake of the wizard that cursed him's prophecy. Akuma only cares about serving himself; he said that on his own.'

Sakura took a strengthening breath before forcing herself to be brave, "My Lord, let's proceed with the marriage."

"You understand what you're saying, Lady Haruno?" He seemed bewildered like she'd developed a second head.

"I do, and I'm humbled by your concern, but you must understand that I've been raised and sent here to die." Sakura's throat tightened as she tried not to cry. Her voice shook, but she managed to remain mostly composed, "Until now, I saw my death as a means to an end. Knowing that a pure soul such as yours may be saved in the process gives me purpose I've never experienced."

"You barely know me, Lady Haruno! How can you lay your life down for mine?" A sad smile met Sakura's lips.

She explained, "My mother was a traveling dancer. I don't have many memories of her because she died when I was very young, but I remember her telling me never to live my life as a prisoner." Green eyes lifted to meet black ones brimmed with tears, "I have been discouraged for far too long. I was content to accept my father's order to die by your hand simply so my sisters would be spared. I've been disheartened and nonsensical."

"But now I've met you and The Curse, and it's like my eyes have been opened for the first time," she offered a reassuring smile, "Dying for the sake of someone as kindhearted as you will act as the key to unlocking my shackles. Preventing The Curse from causing destruction to you or others will free me of my burdens, Lord Uchiha. Please allow me to do this."

'As much as I believe Akuma will protect me, his amusement is surely limited. I'll be tossed aside once he's had his fun. Even before that happens, who knows how many he'll slay as carelessly as he did Butler Yamamoto? To stop that from happening, I can die happily.'

"You are like no other woman I've met, Lady Haruno," the prince breathed out. She sipped her tea with an air of acceptance. "If you're absolutely sure, I'll proceed with this union."

"I'm sure."

He tilted his head with a grimace, "I'll begin preparations, then. If you should have a change of heart before our wedding, I swear not to bear a grudge."

'That won't happen, Lord Uchiha. I've lived a far too tumultuous life. In fact, you'll be doing me a favor by allowing me to be your sacrifice.' 

[getblackout503]

Hello y’all, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve made an actual chapter for the Greyche spy fic but here is chapter 16 enjoy

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Grey walked the dark hallways of their base, she didn’t know how she was going to sleep tonight. She had so many thoughts swirling around in her head, what if Dante found her, what would she do then? Was she to just accept her fate? Or would she fight? The ladder didn’t seem all that possible. She could fight somewhat but it was mostly just self defense, if it were an actual fight she could never do it mainly for the fact unlike most of her comrades or hell unlike many normal people Grey was more on the weaker side, she could jump, run, do handstands sure but hand to hand combat was out of the question. While she was in her thoughts she suddenly hit something, it wasn’t a wall it was too soft for that, but she put her hands on it and it felt like a chest? A Chest!?

Grey quickly looked up and saw Gauche looking down at her, immediately her face turned red and she stumbled back in a stuttering mess unable to find the right words to explain herself properly.

“G-G-Gauche?” She squeaked out. “W-What are y-you doing up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Grey.”

“I-I-I u-um” She stuttered over words, trying to explain herself.

“Just…sorry Grey, I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Gauche sighed. “Are you okay?” He asked in a softer tone, making Grey calm down somewhat.

“I…I don’t know,” She told him honestly. “This is all it’s…it’s all so terrifying.”

“I know what you mean.” Gauche said, as he walked to a nearby window with Grey soon following him to it.

“I’m sorry”

“For what?”

“All of this, if I hadn’t…if I weren’t born then maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Grey, why would you say that?” Gauche looked at Grey. “Grey if you were never born our lives would have been terrible, I mean you make everyone’s day better. Yami cares for you, Vanessa loves being with you, Zora seems to just want to protect you, you’re important in all our lives.”

“But just by being here I’m putting everyone in danger.” Grey said, as she tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill out, she had cried too much today, she needed to stop being pathetic. That’s what she told herself at least, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t healthy.

“But we’re willing to fight for you, Grey.”

“But Gauche, how are you not afraid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…how are you not afraid of anything, y-you’re so confident with everything, you never show and speck of fear, you’re…you’re everything I want to be.”

“Grey…I may not look it but, most if not always, I'm terrified.”

“W-What?” Grey was shocked, Gauche being terrified? “But you’re…you?”

“Even I get scared, Grey,” Gauche looked out the window. “Especially when it comes to my sister. I know what the others say, I know they joke about my obsession with my sister but, it’s just because I’m terrified of what could happen to her, I’m her older brother after all it’s my job to worry. And after our parents…passed on it’s only gotten worse, that’s why I became a spy, I knew the risks but I didn’t care. As long as I get to take care of Marie I don’t care what harm may come my way.”

“Gauche, I-I never know…I wish I had an older sibling like you.”

“Do…Do you have a family?” Gauche looked at Grey. “You…don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“N-No, it’s okay,” She took a deep breath. “I never met my mother, she died giving birth to me but from what my father told me, she was the nicest woman you would ever meet, always being able to brighten the mood.” Grey smiled softly. “I wish I could have met her, b-but my father wanted me to have a mother so he married my stepmother at the time. Things were okay at first but she would soon start acting more hostile towards me, and it got worse over time and when my father…passed on, she was able to show her true colors. And she was horrible, making me do all the chores, verbally and physically abusing me, and sometimes she would…lock me in the basement for days on end for not doing something right…”

“Grey I-”

“It’s okay, it’s my fault for letting them do that to me”

“Grey, it’s not, you were just a child.” Gauche told her. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for past events that were out of your control.”

“Then who do I blame?” Grey turned to look at Gauche. “My late father who simply wanted his daughter to have a mother?”

“No Grey, but that doesn’t mean you have to place it on yourself.”

“But”

“Grey, It’s not your fault, you were put into situations beyond your control, placed with people who had the worst intentions. But never should you blame yourself for that, you need to learn to accept that something isn't your fault. And just keep going, that’s what I tell myself.”

“G-Gauche.”

“You may not hear this enough but, you’re enough, you’re more than anyone could have asked for,” Gauche slowly gets closer to Grey, with her doing the same. “You’re the greatest thing to ever happen to any of us, you’re everything to me.”

“Gauche.” Grey is inches away from his face.

“Grey…I love-”

BOOM!!!

[igc0]

I just translated this from spanish so if there is any mistake please tell me.

lucerys psycho!

Aemond doesn't blame them, the same accomplishment realized with a glance in one of the store's mirrors.

His hair is too long, his eyes are somewhat puffy from sleep and he has dark circles under his eyes that are even more noticeable due to his pale skin that has not received sunlight for a long time. In addition to the fact that before everything, people already looked at him with suspicion. He was tall and likes to work out so he could be intimidating to some people and when you add to that his numerous tattoos, his dark clothes and his fucking eye patch... people were prejudiced.

His hands were sweating, he doesn't know how long it's been since he gently touched the boy in front of him on the shoulder but it sure has been a long time since the silence feels tense. He tries once more to order the words in his mind and makes an even greater effort to convey them.

"I need-...."

"Oh you're here, I've been looking for you, have you got your cookies yet?"

His shoulders tense and his hands tremble as someone else's intertwine with his own and soft lips press against his cheek.

"friends of yours?" Lucerys turns to the couple who are watching him curiously.

Aemond only limits himself to denying even when it is unnecessary.

Lucerys knew he didn't know them.

Lucerys knew everything about him.

"My pleasure, I'm Lucerys Velaryon" he said with one of those soft smiles that were always contagious and of course this was no exception.

The couple smiled as if by innate reflex and shook his hand saying their respective names but Aemond's mind was too far away to process them.

Moron.

Coward.

Witty.

They are being deceived.

The conversation continued for only a few more seconds but that did not prevent the smile on the faces of the two people from growing more and more delighted by the wonderful illusion that was presented to them.

Aemond could feel the bile rising in his throat.

Already in the car, he saw the man who sat in the passenger seat with his jaw clenched and his hands clenched with an iron force behind the wheel.

Lucerys was looking at him with a pout on his plush lips and his eyes brimming with tears.

"You wanted to leave me Qybor"

His hands tighten more on the wheel to the point where his knuckles turn white, he wants to take that little face in his hands, he wants to tear out those bright eyes and he wants to kiss those lips until the boy cries and screams and begs, he wants to hold him and smell his hair.

The boy moves closer until their noses meet in an Eskimo kiss and his whole body is tense. He sees the sadness in those eyes and Aemond might feel guilty if he wasn't completely sure it was false, a lie. The boy was a total chameleon.

"I wasn't going to do it" he says, but the only thing that goes through his head repeatedly like a mantra is 'yes yes, yes, leave, never see you, never touch you, nor breathe your intoxicating self that leaves me high'

They both know it's a lie as soon as it leaves their lips but neither says it. Aemond because it is convenient for Lucerys to trust him so as not to lose this newly won freedom and Lucerys because he does not want the man to know that he sees through him, that he watches him and knows everything about him.

Lucerys smiles, that smile that makes his cheeks look even softer and he wants to bite him and kiss all over his face. he hates it.

Their lips are pinking when Lucerys stops smiling and gives him a chaste kiss but Aemond follows when he tries to pull away. He doesn't do it on purpose and everything in him tells him to stop, to stop kissing the sweet mouth of this fucking son of a bitch but he can't pull away until Lucerys is gasping for air and his hands are clutching at his shirt and the only thing What is heard is the wet sound of their mouths and the small moans that come from Lucerys.

By the time they separate, the boy's mouth is red and swollen, traces of saliva trail down the corner of his mouth, and his gaze is blank. An emotion takes shape in Aemond's chest, and when he finally identifies it, he is horrified.

He is satisfied. As if having that effect on Luke was his job, his duty. That creepy thing on his chest grows and desperately screams "we are his, we belong to him, only him, by him, for him"

Aemond opens the car door as bile rises in his throat along with his breakfast and the retching continues even though there is nothing left in his stomach and his body is spasming and he is breaking out in a cold sweat. Aemond's breathing accelerates and when he feels he can't breathe anymore and that the air burns more than helping him, when he feels that he is suffocating a hand touches his shoulder and another cups his cheek and raises his face.

"Come on, breathe with me, okay? Slow breaths"

And when he is supported by that touch and his eye observe the face in front of him with irritating attention and he obediently follows the breaths of the opposite and calm floods his body is what he knows is screwed , who must find a way to escape, to escape this monster with soft cheeks and angelic appearance.

How fucked up do you have to be for the person who makes your heart race to the point that you excite is also the person who causes you deep fear, who gouged out your eye when you were only ten years old and is also the only one who calms you down when you suffer a panic attack and if this does not border on the unusual it is also its kidnapper.