#i don’t think they’d fight physically

[cometrose]

i know the popular theory about why zhongli avoided neuvillette is to avoid conflict but how would he know like…this is the same neuvi that got duped by furina for 500 years and has never left fontaine like how would he know???

zhongli doesn’t have the gnosis anymore and i don’t think neuvi has met an adeptus before so like how would he know it’s the geo archon and not some powerful adepti walking around???

like maybe zhongli still has divinity all over him but like this is zhongli the guy is a master manipulator surely he could’ve come up with a sweet excuse like HOW HE WOULD KNOW???

[princessbrunette]

“you still mad at me?” while balls deep with rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫.

GODDDD U ATE W THIS PROMPT 😩 like my jaw dropped

rafe was always doing this.

he’d make empty promises, plans even — talk to you all sweet with a warm hand on your back whispering suggestion of “that was the last time i’m getting involved with all that crazy shit, baby. i swear. s’just me you n’me now, you hear me?” and you being the fool, believed him.

until of course you’re catching him pulling back up to the drive on his motorcycle, yanking his helmet off with that ill-tempered expression of his that just tells you enough that somethings gone on, you know, the one where his teeth are grit, lips pressed together like they’d been sewn shut. that’s not even where it ends, because often times barry is close behind, pulling up alone side so they can debrief loudly in the living room, stinking up the place with pot. even if you were mad, you know the rules. no coming down the stairs when barry’s over.

you almost had started to enjoy the feeling of sulking when rafe would eventually skulk up the stairs after barry had left, shoulders heavy and ready to grovel. naturally, you put up quite the fight — and what might surprise you is that rafe let’s you mouth off, even if he knows you don’t understand the importance of his situation and likely never will.

“again and again rafe! how many times am i gonna have to put up with you just running off to god knows where when you promise me you’re not doing all that anymore! you were supposed to be with me today!” you nearly stomp your foot, that last sentence coming out childishly like an abandoned middle child. he nods, jaw ticking as he stares at the ground scratching his forehead, waiting for his lashing to end. once the tears start to roll, that’s his queue. like clockwork.

“come on, hey. y’know i love you, sweetheart. i’m sorry, okay?” he rushes to your side, sliding right up next to you on the bed and thumbing at the first batch of tears on your cheek, his hand so large it cups your skull at the same time. you want to preen into his touch, so elated with any affection after a day of missing him, worrying about him — but you don’t, because you’re still mad. be strong, you tell yourself.

you’re weak. you hate yourself.

not even 10 minutes of your sobbing and complaining later and he’s got your legs over his broad shoulders, balls slapping lewdly against you whilst he all but pumps you. his hands that are on your waist, using you as leverage reposition themselves so that he’s holding himself up over you more. a large hand wraps gently around your ankle as he does so, making sure your leg doesn’t slide off the strong slopes of his shoulder.

squeals and more tears are being punched out of you with each thrust, but he can see you physically relaxing, he can see you reaching out to him with a wobbling bottom lip so that you can hold onto his arms like you always do when he fucks you. it’s neutralising you.

“fuck, that’s m’girl.” he pants, mouth gaping at the way your pussy flutters around him. you’re so reactive to his voice he can’t believe it, never having met anyone who is so enamoured with everything he does. shit, maybe he should treat you better after all. he keeps talking, because he thinks you deserve to cum a whole bunch tonight, after putting up with all his shit. having a girlfriends made him gone all soft.

“you still mad at me?” he tilts his head, and you’re not sure if it’s intended to be mean or mocking, because it certainly doesn’t come out that way — his voice kind and eyes kinder, rolling the well kept muscles in his core to grind his cock against that spongey spot deep within. you don’t answer his question, clinging onto that last crumb of dignity and restraint. you pout through your whimpers, turning your head a little. he takes that opportunity to burrow down into your neck, his open mouth panting against your tepid skin as he speaks lowly again. “dont be mad at me baby. i’m only tryna look after my girl, you want that right?”

“mhm…” you reply before you permit yourself.

he slides his arms under you now, letting your legs down from his shoulders to hook around his waist instead. he’s holding your body close to his as he grinds, his pelvis smushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re so god damn close it hurts and you’ll do anything to cum.

“so good to me, baby.” he sighs and you cry out, arching your body harder to his. “i know. let it out. i’m so bad to you sweetheart s’the least i can do.” he mutters self pityingly before letting out a groan, cock pulsing inside you. you remember thinking about how right he was about that when you fell over the edge into a white hot orgasm.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen? 

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave. 

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching. 

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless. 

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out. 

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood. 

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats. 

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was. 

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened. 

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently. 

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!” 

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears. 

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked. 

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side. 

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean. 

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean. 

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice. 

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves. 

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair. 

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that. 

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked. 

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled. 

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who has sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve had my share of [Crowley voice] you idiot thoughts at both of them over their terrible communication skills and severe chronic inability to say what they mean. But like. I get it.

For 6000 years, they had to talk in code. They had to express themselves in grand gestures and subtext and plausible deniability, out of fear of being found out. And they got really good at it! They developed a whole secret language of ways to say I love you because they couldn’t say it out loud.

But now that they can—and need to—talk about what they are to each other with actual words, they don’t know how.

Neither of them know how to say what they want, openly, and to ask what the other wants. And (I think this is a crucial component) they don’t know how to fight. They’ve had enough spats to have a 350+ year old apology dance, but they have repeatedly avoided talking about the really big differences in their worldviews and what they value, because those conversations would immediately bump up against the things they try hardest to avoid (doubt and guilt for Aziraphale; rejection for Crowley), and because that could lead to a real disagreement that they don’t know how to get around. And then where would either of them be? Alone.

So they bicker and they have drunken philosophical debates and they make up and do little dances all while not really talking about the big differences in how they see the world. And then when the pressure is on they have horrible miscommunication blowouts where they end up talking past each other and hurting each other deeply because they don’t even realize they’re not on the same page.

Upon rewatch I think this is part of why Crowley seems so unhappy in the early episodes. I think he did hope that once they weren’t working for Heaven and Hell, things would go in a more explicitly romantic direction. (But of course he won’t just come out and say that, until the absolute last ditch moment.) From his POV, he’s made his desires perfectly clear (he hasn’t) and I think he thought that working for Heaven was the last thing holding Aziraphale back. And then they cleared that hurdle and nothing changed. Or not enough. Because the problem goes deeper than that.

And bless(/damn) them, they’re still trying. The confession was clearly so hard for Crowley, and would have been even without the first half of the scene, because he’s working against his deepest insecurities. He can’t even finish his sentences, and yet he’s still trying. And I do think that Aziraphale was working up to his own version of it (he’s so openly physically affectionate with Crowley this season, much more than in the past) but he’s always moved a bit slower with these things, and then it was too late. (It’s always too late.)

But even if they’d both been able to openly say their I love yous, they still have this thing sitting between them, which is that Aziraphale doesn’t understand why Crowley would never go back to Heaven, and Crowley doesn’t understand why Aziraphale would want to. And having that conversation goes right to the heart of how they’ve both been damaged by the system of Heaven and Hell, which is why I suspect they’ve both instinctively avoided it before now. And at some point in s3, they are going to have to talk about that.

[bunny-yan]

Hi i was the anon that Requested the p2 of Yan Hero and it got me thinking....

What would happen If The demon Lord Fell in live with Y/n and took her...BUT the Demon actually cares about her and Gives her freedom As Long as she doesn't escape?

Ngl i just wanna Know what tasman's reactiin would be tbh I hope im not Bothering you sorry!

Thx for reading :)))

Also can i be 💋-Anon?

Hi 💋~ Anon! No need to apologize! You aren’t bothering me at all. I think a traumatized darling would be hesitant to jump into the arms of someone else that could potentially repeat the relationship that they’d been so desperate to escape from, but the Demon King is perfect because they would be able to protect you from the hero unparalleled by anyone else in terms of strength and influence.  It also feels nice to go to the one person Tasman regards as an enemy. He’d told you over and over again how he was doing this for the greater good and how he needed to protect you from the big bad Demon King, but it’s hard to believe that when the proclaimed villain treats you better and with more respect than he ever did. 

TW: threats and descriptions of violence, mentions physical abuse, language, death threats —

He’d taken his eyes off of you for two seconds. Two fucking seconds.

It wasn’t the smartest idea to bring you to an active battle, especially when his enemy had come to meet him, but he didn’t trust you enough with one of the other members in his party after what happened last time. And he especially didn’t trust you to leave you on your own. That left bringing you along, despite knowing how dangerous it was. 

It was why he told you to stick close to him. He needed to be able to protect you at a moment’s notice, so you had to remain by his side. 

Why did he trust that you would listen?

Walking across a large expanse of land, he felt an imminent threat of danger, only having enough time to grab you and jump out of the way just as a large shadow swallowed the ground in the exact spot his foot would’ve landed.

“Ambush!” one of his teammates yelled, and the situation descended into chaos just that quickly. 

Snarls from demon dogs echoed throughout the field as the party fought to fend them off. They were huge, standing taller than some of the trees that were sparsely located, and they were fast. Despite that, dealing with them was easy, when he didn’t have to fight to protect you as well. 

Rudy, the party’s tank was struggling to hold back one of the monsters by himself and Annalise, the party’s healer, and Morrigan, the party’s mage, were pinned by two others. Despite their calls for assistance, Tasman brandsihed his sword, eyes narrowing on the Demon King at the head of the attack. 

“The others will protect you if something happens. Stay right here and don’t move.” he told you, locking you with a gaze that promised trouble if you were to disobey. The next moment he disappeared, hurtling forward at an inhuman speed to strike the Demon King. 

You weren’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned you to fight, but it was never easy and always nervewracking to be left so open, so exposed while death and destruction surrounded you. A part of you was screaming to run away from the danger, but the last time you had, you’d almost died, experiencing a pain that you couldn’t begin to describe when your body was almost ripped apart. If Tasman believed he could trust you to be protected as long as you stayed in this one spot, you would stay. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to witness a battle you were helpless to aid or run away from, but it wasn’t long before your resolve began to wane.

At the sound of a low growl, you peeked, regretting it instantly at the sight of a snarling dog, snout dripping with saliva, looking dead at you. 

“T-Tasman.” 

The dog took a step towards you, ears pulled back as the growling increased. Your eyes were wide, too afraid to look away from the staring contest as your body began to shake in fear. With another step in your direciton, you felt yourself backing away, only to freeze at the phantom pain that shot through you from the last time you’d moved from the spot he placed you. 

“Tasman.” you said louder this time.

Another step had your body tensing painfully. You didn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. You were sure you’d die the last time you were attacked and no matter how advanced Tasman’s healing magic was, it didn’t help you forget the way your body felt as if it was being torn apart.

When it crouched, bunching it’s muscle in preparation to lunge, something snapped. “Tasman!” you screamed, sprinting away despite knowing that you wouldn’t be fast enough to get away. You shouldn’t have trusted his words. His party members would be happy if you disappeared, leaving the chance for one of them to mend his broken heart. 

You were fucked from the start.

He’d been lost in the heat of the battle. He could hear you calling his name, but he didn’t have time to cater to your delicate sensibilities. However, he could hear the fear bleeding in your tone and his heart dropped when he finally caught a moment to glance towards you. 

Face drowning in fear, you ran as one of the monster’s jumped to attack you. 

What the fuck were they doing‽

He turned, desperate to get back to you, but an unknown force sent him hurtling away. 

You yelled, silently pleading for the goddess to spare you before something appeared. Bumping into whatever it was, you didn’t question it as an arm wrapped around your waist before the two of you were met with impact. 

From your ragged breaths, you knew you were still alive. Your body sagged in relief, tears leaking involuntarily from your eyes. Despite how cross you were that he’d put you in danger in the first place, you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tightly. 

“I told you I didn’t want to be here, you asshole.”

After taking a deep breath, you backed away to glare at Tasman before your face went slack in shock. 

This… was not Tasman. 

Dark pools that lacked irises stared back at you. You, who had just cursed at this inexplicably handsome stranger. You, who still had your arms wrapped around said stranger’s waist. 

Ripping away, you backed up quickly to bump into something else. Something soft tickled your neck and you felt queasy at the heavy breath that made your hair stand on end. Looking up, your eyes went wide at the sight of the demon dog and when it loosed a terrifying snarl, you found yourself jumping back into the stranger’s arms. 

Unfazed, he placed a hand on your back before staring up at the enormous creature. 

“Down.” he said, silky voice holding such authority, the beast whined before obeying his master’s order. Looking at the monster now, he resmembled a scolded puppy begging its owner not to be upset. If the puppy had two sets of eyes, a spiked tail, and was big enough to use trees to play fetch. 

You looked back to the handsome stranger when he removed his hands from your waist, grabbing your hands to remove the death grip you had on his cloak. Your face was hot in embarrassment, but you mumbled gratitude for saving your life. 

“How peculiar.” The stranger cocked his head to the side. “How has a bonded soul sustained such damage?”

You were going to ask him what he meant, but you were pulled into a sudden embrace. Placing a palm up, your eyes widened as the ground cracked from the force of Tasman’s blow against his shield. When the world settled, the man released you once again to face his attacker. 

“Lover, get away from him! He’s dangerous!”

You looked at the man who saved you and from the force of Tasman’s words, instinctively you knew. 

This was the Demon King. 

But he appeared nothing like what you heard. He didn’t have a foreboding presence that promised death and destruction. You didn’t see ghastly horns or grotesque features. He looked human. Normal, even. Nothing like the stories you’d heard growing up. 

“Lover!” Tasman snarled, making you jump as you turned to face him. His eyes were wild with panic as his hands pushed against an invisible force. “Come here.”

You felt something shrivel inside of you at the sound of his voice, fear bleeding in your eyes as you began to slowly make your way towards him. Something was telling you that you were going to get in trouble for being rescued by the Demon King. 

Tasman visibly relaxed the closer you got, preparing his strength to blow away the barrier the moment you were near, but when you were almost within grabbing distance a hand caught your wrist, halting your forward movement. It wasn’t aggressive and despite the fact that he easily towered over you, his grip was light enough that you felt you could yank your hand away at a moment’s notice. It was funny that you felt no inclination to. 

“Fear for the person claiming such an intimate role?” 

You looked in their eyes and it surprised you to see concern. Your mouth opened, but you flinched at Tasman’s sharp “Don’t touch-”

“And was this their doing as well?” the Demon King continued, completely unfazed by the anger that cowed you, brought you to heel, and demanded your obedience. He turned your hand to reveal an angry hand-shaped bruise. It was from this morning. You’d attempted to reason that it wasn’t safe for a normal human being to be in an environment with monsters that, even at the weakest level, could kill you. He brushed off your concern, claiming he’d be able to protect you and when you insisted he lost his patience. Grabbing your wrist, he didn’t temper his strength and you felt it might break as he dragged you from the room and down the stairs. Not healing it as a form of punishment for the nasty look you’d given him. He claimed that you might learn to appreciate him if he took away what little he did offer, even if he was also the cause of every miscolored imperfection. 

Your silence was enough. 

Looking from the bruise around your wrist to the hand that held yours gently, Tasman grit his teeth as he punched at the barrier in anger before attempting to calm down and switching tactics.

“Lover, you don’t know the things he’s done. The village’s he’s destroyed. He is dangerous. Come to me.” he said holding out his hand. When you didn’t move after a moment, his voice sounded choked with desperation to hold back the force, the anger. “Come to me.”

Releasing your hand, you almost felt disappointed. A part of you felt guilty thinking you would no longer be able to use the Demon King’s grip on you as an excuse for not rushing back to Tasman’s side. Something he would be sure to berate you for when you made it back. You didn’t understand why you were making things harder for yourself. You hated the way that sounded, but if you wanted to keep Tasman his happy, kind self, you did what he said. When you wanted to see some of his non-hero like aspects, you did the opposite. And that was what you were doing now. Delaying the inevitable. You didn’t want to imagine the terrifying expression on his face when this man left you to fend for yourself. 

‘I would offer asylum, should you be inclined to accept.’ Your head jerked up in surprise at the sound of the voice in your head. ‘Apologies for intruding on your thoughts, but the scenes you projected were hard to ignore. I do not ask you to trust me, but if you’re willing to take the chance to see that I’m not the monster he claims, all I ask is that you take my hand.’

Lifting his hand, you looked at the enticing offer. 

Looking between his hand and you, your gaze focused on whatever the bastard offered, Tasman felt dread and a newfound sense of desperation to get you back. “Lover, don’t. He’ll kill you. He’ll devour your soul and give your body to his underlings to do with as they please. Don’t do this. Don’t-”

You thought about what Tasman said. About how dangerous this person was. If you took his hand there was a chance you were subjecting yourself to a worse fate than what you had with your hero. A chance that he simply wanted the gullible human to follow him back to his domain before he took his time devouring his easy prey. 

You thought about him destroying villages and for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty as you thought, So what?

The Demon King destroyed villages. The same villages that Tasman threatened to destroy, to rampage if you didn’t come out from hiding after finally managing to escape. The same villages that turned a blind eye when you were kidnapped from your mundane life. The same villages that were complicit in your imprisonment if it meant they would be protected from the big, bad Demon King. The same Demon King that was offering you a chance to escape from all of this. You could be walking into a trap, but you didn’t care. If he devoured your soul it wouldn’t return to the awful cycle you were stuck in and eaten, it would find peace. 

You wanted to laugh at the incredulity of the situation. At the hopelessness that drove you to this point.

Fuck those villages. 

From the look in your eyes, Tasman knew what you were going to do. He began banging on the barrier with all his might, summoning every ounce of strength as his face contorted into ugly rage. 

“Lover!” he snarled, howling with rage when you placed your hand in the Demon King’s. He pounded the barrier, cracking it bit by bit as he hurled threats to you and the Demon King. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

“Maybe one day, but not today, child. Use this time to reflect on the actions that led to this outcome.” With a hand around your waist, you looked at Tasman, at the rage you never knew he could possess, at the terrifyingly possessive look that had you stepping back into the Demon King. 

“I’ll find you, lover.” he said with a terrifying calm. “And when I do-”

You didn’t get a chance to hear what he was going to say. One moment you were on the battlefield, the next you were swallowed by shadows that brought you to the edge of a serene forest. 

Releasing you, the Demon King quickly wrapped his arms around again when your legs threatened to give out from underneath you. 

“Thank you,” you said, voice trembling with emotion you couldn’t begin to describe. Were you afraid because of Tasman’s threat? Grateful that you would get even a moment away from him? Scared of what the Demon king planned to do to you? There was too much to consider and you didn’t have enough time to process everything that had happened up until this point. 

“No need.” he said, surprising you as he cupped your face in his his hands. The warmth from his hands lulled you into a false sense of calm and when he came closer, you panicked. Was he going to kiss you? Was that a requirement to devour your soul‽

Shutting your eyes tight, you assumed something was wrong when he placed his forehead against yours, but after a quick chant and a warm sensation on your forehead, he released you, leaving you reeling in what just happened. 

“The mark I’ve bestowed will help the creatures in this territory recognize you as one of us. All I ask is that you do not harm them.”

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say. 

You didn’t know what he had planned, but once again you were frozen in shock when a small smile appeared on his face. 

“Peculiar human. A kiss would only be the first step.”

Your mouth dropped open, but if he noticed the stupor he placed you in, he didn’t say. Walking forward, he called behind, “Come along. I will show you the room that is meant to be yours and allow you to explore to your single heart’s content.”

Without a word or a sense of hesitation, you followed.

[hopepetal]

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--

They had been running for some time now, chasing after Gem and Scott ever since proclaiming themselves allies. Chasing, without end, prey that was an expert at evading. It was frustrating, and not to mention exhausting.

Pearl took a moment to gasp for air, her footsteps stumbling to a halt. It took Scar a moment to notice, but when he did he stopped as well, turning to look back at her. “You good, Pearl?” he asked, tilting his head slightly in question. 

“Yeah,” she got out, “doin’ lovely, mate. Don’t worry about me, just need a second.” She bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she gasped. Her lungs and legs burned from the strain, and despite his calm demeanor she knew Scar was feeling the same.

It took Pearl a moment to realize that her hair was cascading down around her, falling into her face despite the fact that she had tied her hair back earlier. With a groan, she realized her ponytail had come loose, the ribbon she had used still tangled in her hair. “Hold on,” she got out, straightening back up, “I have to tie my hair back up. Can’t be fighting with my hair down.”

“Wait!” Scar set down his shield and bow before stepping forward. “I have a better idea.” Before Pearl could protest, he gently took the tangled ribbon from her hair. 

Pearl frowned. “What are you planning, Scar?”

“Sit down, Pearl.” Scar lowered himself to the ground and sat with his legs folded beneath him. “I’ll braid your hair.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, laughing. She still clutched her bow in her hand, looking around nervously– they were almost a full death game in, and she still was on edge. As if she was planning on winning. “You know we don’t have that kind of time, Scar. Gem and Scott are still out there, and who knows what they’re planning?”

Scar shook his head, patting the ground in front of him. “Sit down. We need this rest, you know. Can’t fight too well if we’re exhausted.”

Pearl sighed, reluctantly setting down her bow as she sat. She kept her shield in her hand, laying it across her lap and fidgeting with the handle. “Alright.” She felt Scar pull her hair back, gently beginning to comb his fingers through her tangled locks. “Y’know, the final fight would go a lot easier if you killed me.”

Scar shook his head, still continuing to carefully brush through Pearl’s hair. “You know why I won’t do that, Pearl. I don’t like all those ‘heroic sacrifices’.”

Pearl laughed, continuing to fidget with her shield. Something about her laughter sounded a little bitter, nostalgic for something that had never happened. “Yeah, I can’t imagine why.”

Scar began dividing her hair up into sections, humming softly as he began to braid. “You have nice hair,” he commented, “very shiny. And soft.”

“You think so?” Pearl asked, free hand drifting up to play with one of her free locks. “Honestly, it just gets in the way during these games. I’m thinking of cutting it.”

Scar gasped, though the smile remained on his face. “Oh, I can only imagine… this game hasn’t even given us hairbrushes, the nerve!” After a moment of silence, he continued. “If you cut your hair, I won’t have any to braid, you know. How’s a man supposed to keep his hands busy like that?”

Pearl laughed, finally seeming to relax slightly as she set her shield to the side. “Grow out your own hair, you goof.” There was a sadness in her voice that Scar couldn’t physically understand– he’d never had long hair, so why did she sound like she was grieving something that never happened? And something so small at that.

For Pearl, the reason why was simple. How could she not grieve the parts of her friends that they’d forgotten they’d ever had? A smile that was missing its mischievousness, a laugh that was missing its depth. A look that had no recognition, no shared secrets. Memories like missing puzzle pieces, lost somewhere unknown. That was what she saw every time blood stained the ground, every time family was pitted against one another like soldiers at war.  

Scar continued to braid Pearl’s hair, humming a cheery tune that Pearl knew he couldn’t recall learning. Deft hands paused, lightly holding the strands of hair, before Scar pulled away to grab something. Pearl heard him pick up his sword then hesitate, considering something. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me stabbing you in the back?” he asked, to which Pearl laughed. “What? It’s a serious question!”

Pearl turned slightly to look at Scar, giving him a smile. “If you were going to stab me, Scar, it would’ve been when I asked you to. Besides,” she added, turning back around, “even if you did stab me now, I wouldn’t be upset. You’d get ten extra hearts.”

“Eh,” Scar dismissed, far too nonchalant for a discussion of death, “I don’t need ten extra hearts.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see that. “You might not think the same when we’re fighting against Gem and Scott, mate.”

Scar cut something with his sword before setting it back to the side, his hands taking Pearl’s hair in them again. “That’s a problem for future Scar. Present Scar doesn’t kill his only friend in the entire server.”

Pearl felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. She knew that feeling well– loneliness, grief. Loneliness was an old friend that had once been her only companion. She recognized that in Scar, in his voice and his eyes. She had seen it once before, in the second game. Not that he would remember it.

He might, soon. The voice that whispered to her was none other than her own, her deepest thoughts given words. He could win this. He could become like us. 

I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she shot back, unknowingly tensing up. It was a little silly, getting into an argument with herself, but Pearl had always been a rather silly person. Unconventional, even. At one point, she’d been called insane. Perhaps it was fitting.

And yet you want him to win. The voice made a good point– she made a good point. If she didn’t want Scar to win, she could easily just kill him now. She should kill him now if she so desperately wanted to spare him the fate of the victors. He’d put up a fight, and he was good with a sword. Pearl knew that much, knew that there would be a moment of surprise before his eyes narrowed and heart hardened and the battle began. She also knew that he wouldn’t win against her on the chance she did try her hardest, that she fought with all her might.

Scar knew this too, and perhaps that was why he teamed up with her in the first place. Maybe he had found kinship in their shared loneliness. Maybe he’d wanted protection. Maybe he needed a friend. It was unlikely, but maybe he’d felt drawn to her by a bond he couldn’t quite understand, one made by witnessing the violent and sudden end of a server he couldn’t remember. There were a thousand possible reasons as to why he’d chosen her, and perhaps she’d truly never left the tower after all, because the fact he had chosen her at all still slightly baffled her. 

Well. No matter. He chose her, and in the end they’d all die anyway. 

“You have gentle hands,” she commented. “Joel tried braiding my hair before. Nearly tugged my whole head off my neck, that man. It’s a wonder Lizzie’s put up with him this long.” No matter what memories they lost, it always seemed like Joel and Lizzie’s marriage remained an unchangeable fact. Maybe it had something to do with “‘til Death do us part’”, though Pearl wasn’t really sure. 

Maybe she’d try marrying someone when they got back to Hermitcraft, just to see if it carried over to the next death game. And wasn’t that a strange thought, the next death game? There would be another, Pearl knew, if Grian had anything to say about it. He was a little strange like that, but she’d come to expect those kinds of things from her brother. 

“Why thank you!” Scar was beaming, she could tell by his voice. “This just comes so naturally to me. Maybe I should’ve been a hairdresser instead of a trader.” 

Pearl laughed, remembering the intricate braids Scar would put his hair in during Last Life and their home server, Hermitcraft. Although he couldn’t remember them, he remembered how to do them. That was a small relief, at the very least. It was nice to know that her friends kept some parts of themselves, instead of being the blank slates she had originally thought when she first regained her memories. 

“Maybe,” she responded, starting to pick at the grass in front of her, plucking a small flower from the ground. “I’d go to you all the time if you were my hairdresser.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt as she continued. “Just as long as you promise not to do anything too crazy with my hair, alright?”

Scar giggled, his laughter another part of himself that he had kept even after the loss of his memories. “I can’t promise anything, sunflower! Who knows what might happen if you stop paying attention? I might turn you blonde if you aren’t careful.”

Pearl snorted, twirling a strand of grass around her finger idly. “And where do you suppose you’ll get the dye for that, mate? Or the means to make my hair lighter so it’s easier to dye? We’re not exactly exploding with resources here.”

“Hmm, true…” Scar hummed thoughtfully. “We’ve found ourselves in a bit of a pickle, Pearl!”

Pearl shook her head, rolling her eyes. “No, Scar, we aren’t. I didn’t want to go blonde in the first place, so there’s no need to get the materials we’d need for it. Just keep braiding my hair, you goof!”

“Aww, alright!” Scar laughed softly as he went back to braiding Pearl’s hair. “Almost done.” His voice took on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “How are you feeling? Injuries, exhaustion? General… mental state?” He gave a small chuckle on the last one. “I mean, other than the obvious. This game has been… a trip.”

Pearl groaned, stretching out her arms in front of her. “Tell me about it. I lost all of my Mounders.” Her shoulders slumped. “I really wanted them to win, Scar. I really did.”

“I know,” Scar murmured, “and I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that through. You did your best, Pearl.” He paused. “And what about you? I would’ve thought that after all your allies… got out… that you would want to take up the sword and win for them. But you haven’t really… been doing that. You even offered to let me kill you.”

Pearl held back a shudder, wanting to wrap her arms around herself to fight off the sudden cold that had settled over her. “I don’t want to win,” she mumbled, “Even if I did, I don’t think they’d be too happy if I tried.”

Scar made a confused noise. “What was that? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She took a breath. “I just don’t want to win. Don’t see the point in all this, really. Never have. What’s a victory when everyone else around you is dead?”

Scar hummed thoughtfully, thinking about it. “I suppose you’re right. But in the end, isn’t it better for it to be them than me?”

Pearl chuckled sadly. “Not when you have to live with the consequences.”

Scar paused for a moment, as if struck by a sudden revelation. “...I think I understand. Thanks for, uh, answering my questions.” He continued braiding for another moment. “Alright, I think we’re all done!”

Pearl stood with Scar, reaching back to gently touch her braid. There was a shallow pool of water nearby, and she walked over to check her reflection. “Really, Scar?” Woven into her braid was a sunflower, which must’ve been what Scar cut with his sword earlier. 

Scar laughed, joining her by the water. “Doesn’t it look pretty? I thought it was fitting. And!” he continued, over Pearl’s soft laughter, “it adds some brightness to the whole ensemble!” He gestured at Pearl’s outfit, the same she had worn in her past games.

Maybe she would change up her red look next game. If there was a next game. “It does, it does,” she agreed, stifling her laughter. “Thank you, Scar. I look very pretty now, and my hair is out of the way.”

Scar looked over at her, eyes wide. “You mean you won’t cut it? You promise?”

Pearl smiled, reaching out and putting a hand on Scar’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t cut my hair, Scar. Not after you put so much effort into braiding it. I wouldn’t do that to ya, mate. That’s just cruel.” 

Scar grinned. “I knew I could trust you!” With that, he turned away from the water and walked back to where he had left his sword and shield. 

Pearl spent another moment there, gazing out at the water. Did he really mean that? Did Scar truly trust her? If so, had it just been this small moment that made him let down his guard? No, surely not. Scar was intelligent and cunning, and rarely did he let his walls down for anyone. Something must’ve happened for him to feel this way towards her. Something she had done, or said, maybe.

And that was just if he was being truthful with his words– she knew Scar wasn’t one to ignore the benefits of weaving lies and charm into his speech. He was a masterful manipulator, she knew many underestimated him for the cheery, unassuming front he put up. But that was just another reason as to why he was dangerous.

“Pearl?” Scar’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked back at her ally. “You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Pearl jogged over, feeling much more energized than before. Picking up her bow and her shield, she did one last check to make sure everything she had was in order. Once she was certain, she turned to Scar with a smile. “Lets win this one, Scar.”

Scar grinned in return, red eyes shining. “Why, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” 

Lightning struck the ground as Gem took Scott’s sacrifice, and once again Pearl stopped Scar. “My offer still stands, you know. Kill me and take the hearts, you’ll stand a better chance against Gem if you do.”

Scar pretended to think about it. “I think I’ll stand a better chance against Gem if I have you on my team. So, no thank you! But thanks for the offer. Come on, we can’t let Gem get away!” 

The chase continued, feeling much more light-hearted than the ones at the end of Double Life had been. To be fair, she had gone a little insane in the last few days, but still. Maybe it was Scar’s jovial attitude about killing. Maybe it was the fact that she still had an ally this late into the game. Maybe it was something Pearl would never be able to put her finger on, no matter how hard she tried to think of a reason.

The two inevitably caught up with Gem, who had grown exhausted from the chase. Despite being enemies now, Pearl still felt guilty as she raised her sword to attack, Gem’s wide eyes and shouts of an unfair fight making her hesitate and pull back. It was two against one after all, and Pearl had no intentions of winning. Ganging up on Gem like that felt wrong, but maybe that was just her old bond to the other holding her back. Scar had no such qualms, swooping in when she pulled back to quickly cut Gem down. 

Pearl could hardly believe it had happened until lightning struck the ground, and silence rang between the two as Scar stood over Gem’s body. They’d discovered that bodies remained after the last death when Jimmy had died, but it was still a little disturbing to just see Gem laying there. Like she was asleep. 

It didn’t feel right. 

Pearl had to bite back a snort. Four death games in, and she was still disturbed by the sight of dead bodies. Honestly, it was a little pathetic. She’d killed, and been killed, and yet… somehow, it never got any easier. Somehow, it just got harder. The blood staining her hands had become so much that it was hard to hold onto her weapon, and her scars ached whenever she killed. 

Pearl brushed her braid back over her shoulder and lowered her bow, offering Scar a weak smile. “You did it, Scar. Good job.”

Scar laughed softly, not turning around to face her just yet. “It’s just us two left, then. The last ones alive.” “Mhm. What’s your plan now, Scar?” Pearl kept her voice casual, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. How are you going to do it?

How are you going to kill me?

Scar answered her question by turning and raising his bow. Pearl hardly had any time to blink before he shot her, the force of the arrow sending her stumbling back with a shout. Instinct took over then, and she ran as Scar continued to shoot at her. All thoughts of sacrifice fled her mind as she dodged the flying arrows that missed her just barely, reminding her just how good of a shot Scar was. 

“Going for it immediately, huh?” she shouted back as she ran, pulling her sword. Not that she intended to use it, not to kill. But she would put up a fight. If Scar wouldn’t let her sacrifice herself for him, then she would do the next best thing. She would fight him, and he would earn his victory. Not like the hollow sacrifice Scott made for her, where victory was force-fed to Pearl by his hands. No, she wouldn’t do that to Scar. She respected him too much to throw the fight. 

That didn’t mean she would try to win, not in the slightest. But she would do her best to not make it easy for him. His victory would be painful no matter what she did, but at the very least she could make sure it wasn’t a hollow one.

The next arrow hit her as she ran through the field of sunflowers they had been sitting in just earlier, when Scar had offered to braid her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago as she crashed into the ground, yelping in pain as she tried to scramble back up. “Really, Scar?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she ran, the pain shocking as adrenaline flowed through her veins. 

“This game!” Scar called, continuing the chase as he spoke. “There were more of them, weren’t there? And you won.”

Pearl stumbled, surprise catching her off guard mid-stride. She cursed and turned back, swinging her sword down and catching Scar in the side. He stumbled back, granting her more time to flee– but not enough. As she ran, Scar drew back the bowstring, aiming carefully. A running target was harder to hit, but Pearl was moving in a relatively straight path. All he had to do was aim a little ahead, steady, then release. 

It was over the moment the arrow flew, striking Pearl in the chest and pushing her over the edge of a cliff, sending her plummeting into the caves below. Lightning struck, and then all was silent. 

Scar stood, clutching his bow in a white-knuckle grip. “Pearl?” He took a step forward. The wind blew around him, rustling through his hair and shawl. Sunflowers bowed against the breeze, gesturing in the direction where she’d fallen. “Pearl?! Pearl, sunflower, where are you?” 

The breeze led him a few steps further in a stumbling haze, until he stood at the edge of the caves that he’d sent his friend? Enemy? falling into. He didn’t know what he expected– maybe to see Pearl gazing back up at him, a smile on her face and weapon drawn, hurt but alive– but as he looked down into the caves, he found only the body of his first and final ally.

A presence danced around him, heavier than the wind but acting just like it. She’s dead, Scar. You won. Five words whispered in his ear, as thin as the passing breeze. Five words that would’ve meant the world to Scar, once upon a time. Five words that now meant nothing to him as he gazed down at the body of his only friend.

Crouching, Scar swung his legs over the edge of the cave, slowly and carefully lowering himself down. He had to find footholds so that he wouldn’t fall and possibly lose his life as well– the fight with Pearl had left him with fewer hearts than he would’ve liked. “Hold on, Pearl,” he mumbled as he made his way down to where Pearl lay. “I’m coming to get you, I’m… I’m coming, don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

He dropped the last few feet, wincing as pain shot up his legs and sapped at his strength. Luckily, the drop wasn’t far enough to cause any actual injury, but it was closer than he would’ve liked. He stumbled to catch himself, pulling himself to a halt in front of Pearl’s body. 

It was hard to look at her like this. Pearl was someone who was so full of life, always. She was strong and fierce, fighting for what she wanted every day, every moment. She never gave up, not once in all the time that Scar knew her. It hadn’t been long, and it was hard to really get to know someone during a death game like this, but Scar had always been pretty good at reading people. 

He knelt by Pearl’s body, brushing her hair out of her face and gently closing her eyes. He didn’t delude himself with pretending she was asleep– what was the point of avoiding death now, when he had caused so much of it? His hands were stained red with blood that he would never be able to wash off. 

Scar lingered a moment longer before shrugging off his shawl and gently wrapping it around Pearl. He was careful with her body, handling her as gently as he could as he settled her back against the stone. There wasn’t as much blood as Scar thought there should’ve been, but he wiped the blood that was there off Pearl’s face as best he could. 

Then, his hands went to the braid. It had held up well, keeping the sunflower he had woven in secured in her hair. He hesitated for a moment before untying the ribbon that held it in place and beginning to undo the braid. 

He began to hum while he worked. Slowly, reverently. A song that came from a place he couldn’t quite remember, a home he once thought he’d never forget. In another world, he would know he was humming the last rites for a loved one, to send them off into the stars. In this world, all he knew of it was the deep, longing ache in his chest and the tears that it caused to spring to his eyes.

Carefully, Scar took the sunflower from Pearl’s hair, placing it down in his lap. He gently combed his fingers through her hair one last time, before tucking it into the shawl. Picking the sunflower back up, he leaned forward and gently kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sweet sunflower. And goodbye.”

He stood and once more began humming softly, climbing out of the ravine with the sunflower still in his hand. Scar took extra care to not crush the delicate flower as he pulled himself up onto solid ground. The sun was just beginning to set as he made his way toward the Secret Keeper, the intimidating statue that reigned over the entire server. The towering tyrant seemed to gaze down at Scar with eyes he knew he couldn’t see, taunting him with a victory that tasted at best bittersweet. 

It grew dark as Scar approached the buttons, but he held tight to the reminder of the sun’s light in his hand. It gave him the strength to push forward even as his legs threatened to give out from under him. He could not hide the trembling, however, that came from the rush of adrenaline and fear. 

He raised his eyes to meet the invisible ones looking down on him, a challenge held in his gaze, “You wanted me to be the villain?!” he called out, the weight of being watched settling on his shoulders. “Fine! Here I am!” He reached out and pressed the button to succeed. 

Welcome home.

And Scar… remembered. What sounded like thousands of voices overlapping filled his mind, causing him to stumble back with a yelp. He dropped the sunflower, clutching at his head as he was forced to his knees in front of the Secret Keeper.

Sacrifices offered and refused. Atonement rejected, forgiveness given. Arms outstretched, to offer a helping hand. Tears falling into blood-stained water as the two left locked eyes. “For all you have done to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.”

Bloodied sand, prickling cactus spines, heat waves and cool nights. Two impossible friends, against the world. Traitorous actions, painful fists, a killing blow. “Scar, whatever happens, I think we can count this as a double victory.” 

A loneliness that echoed in the silence around him, howling as the wind at night. Bonds broken off entirely, leaving him with only the stars for company. “Everything that happened last season is null and void. Doesn’t count, okay?”

A bitterness that came from once tasting too much sweetness, like slightly burnt cookies. A loneliness that ached worse than when he had been truly alone, for this ache was born of lies and deceit. “I made them, they’re for your secret soulmate.” 

A moment of joy, in the midst. A time of family, friendship, and security. Before the secrets, before the lies and the pain, before the fire and the red wars. “We’re the cockers!” 

Allies for the first time in what felt like forever. People who truly had his back, no matter what. A place where he could let his guard down and smile, laugh, and live. If only for a moment, he knew what it was like to be loved. He was protected, and he was protective. “You don't go against the family.”

You are seated in a field, surrounded by grass blades, ebbing and flowing through the gusts of your imagination. Each of those blades represent a past life. Memories. Desires. Dreams. And past loves… By plucking one you shall reveal–

“Home,” Scar gasped out, eyes snapping open. “I need to go home.”

You are home.

The presence became louder, more unbearable. Each voice clamored for attention, every new memory begging to be heard. The weight of the universe pushed him into the ground, making him gasp for air in a strained panic. 

It was too much. All the memories, all the emotions– it was too much. Scar yelled in pain as it just grew louder and louder, the pressure growing as the weight pushing him down increased. Just like a volcano, it felt as though he was going to erupt at any minute.

And then a cold wind brushed up against Scar’s skin, weaving and dancing around him. “Enough.” 

The voices instantly quieted, the pressure vanishing as Scar collapsed to the ground gasping for air. He tried blinking away the tears and black spots that cluttered his vision, making it difficult to see properly. 

What he could see, though, took his breath away.

Pearl stood in front of him as a shimmering silver spirit, facing the Secret Keeper with her wings flared out to their full span. She glowed as if she were made from moonlight and stardust, and Scar couldn’t help but stare at her in awe. 

“He belongs with us. You will leave him alone.” Her voice was thin and brittle– as if it might snap were someone able to reach out and grab it. There was an echo to it as well, ringing in Scar’s mind as she spoke.

The feeling of being watched vanished completely, and Pearl turned back to Scar. She smiled a silvery smile, and held out her hand to him. “C’mon, mate. Let's go home.”

Scar took her hand, gasping at the sudden coldness that flooded his body– Death. He stood up, trying not to look down at his body that lay where he had fallen just moments earlier. As he stepped forward to join his friend, he couldn’t help but glance back and notice the sunflower lying beside his body, just inches away from his open hand. Nothing he could do about it now. 

Scar turned back to face Pearl, noticing the three other spirits that had gathered. He remembered them all now. The winners of the previous games. His allies, his enemies, his friends. His eyes caught Grian’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well hello there,” he greeted his old ally with a grin, letting go of Pearl’s hand to bow dramatically. “Guess we finally cashed in on that double victory, huh?”

Grian laughed, rolling his eyes. His expression warmed as he took a step forward, reaching out to take Scar’s hand in his. “Little late, but I’ll accept it. How are you, Scar?”

“Well, he’s very dead, so I can’t imagine he’s doing great,” Scott interjected, ignoring the glare the two avians gave him. “What? I’m not wrong.” 

Scar shook his head. “That you are! I’m actually doing much better now that I remember everyone’s going to come back. Makes me feel a lot less guilty about killing all those people!” 

Pearl sighed, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “Y’know, I felt the same way after I won Double Life. And now the games are so much easier for me! It’s nice to get all the murderous urges out now that I know everyone’s going to be fine eventually.”

“This is why everyone calls you two insane,” Martyn muttered, crossing his arms. “Now can we go back home now? I don’t like hanging out in these servers longer than I have to.”

Grian let go of Scar’s hand to pull up some sort of screen, typing commands into it. “Sure, just give me one second.” He continued typing on the screen, swiping through various options and closing others. “Good game, by the way,” he added, without looking up, “I don’t think anyone expected you to win.”

Scar gave a half shrug. “To be honest, G, I didn’t either! Totally thought Gem was going to get this one.”

Grian nodded. “But that’s just how these games go, mhm? Expect the unexpected. Pearl’s win should’ve taught us that much.” He spent another moment typing before closing the screen. “…Alright, we should be heading back to our respective servers soon enough.” He reached out to take Scar’s hand again, taking Pearl’s hand in his other. 

“Can’t believe we almost have all of the Boatem crew here,” Scar blurted out, “do you think Impulse will join us next time?”

Pearl laughed. “I hope so! I don’t think Mumbo will be winning any time soon, though. So we might just have to settle for four out of five.”

Scar nodded sagely. “You speak very wise words, Pearl. I fear Mumbo may be too… how do people say it? I fear he may be too much of a wet cat.”

Martyn groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

Laughter rose from the group as the code began its work, and they all began to fade away. Grian held tightly to Scar and Pearl’s hands, locking eyes with the both of them. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?”

Pearl giggled, squeezing Grian’s hand in return. “See you soon, Griba!”

“Goodbye!” Scar called to Martyn and Scott, their responding farewells faint as the server faded away around him. 

And then there was darkness. 

And then Scar woke up.

[babyleostuff]

hi~ can I request a seventeen reaction to their girlfriend, who is usually very closed off, being affectionate to them out of nowhere?

S/O BEING AFFECTIONATE OUT OF NOWHERE | OT13

the ones that wouldn’t say anything because they’d be afraid that they’d scare you off -  they’d just hug/ cuddle you tighter/ closer and place a gentle kiss on your forehead: 

・❥・ seungcheol, jihoon, seokmin, chan

these boys would not dare to utter a single word when they’d feel your arms around their waist, because it’s not often you are so affectionate with them. they know that physical touch is not one of your biggest love languages, or that it might make you uncomfortable, and they respect that 100%, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’d freak out everytime they’d feel your hands on them.

still, they’d be too afraid to mention anything, scared that you might get shy or embarrassed by the sudden display of affection so they’d settle on pulling you closer and pecking your forehead lovingly. 

+ not that you’ be able to see that, but they’d have the most lovestruck expression, like that idiot is. in. love. 

when it comes to jihoon i know he’s not the biggest fan of physical touch, but i stand by the fact that he loves it when it comes from his s/o. and also because he’s so closed of himself, i think he’d love to have a s/o that initiates the skinship, so he’d never dare to comment on it

at first they’d have a heart malfunction, because how dare you to be this cute, but then they’d pull you closer and tell you how much they love when you’re being this affectionate: 

・❥・ soonyoung, wonwoo, mingyu, vernon, seungkwan 

their first reaction is: immediate heart attack. it’s not often that you lay in their lap just because, or put your head on their shoulder, so it always comes as a big surprise for them (not that they complain). so it would take a couple of seconds for them to recover from the sudden sugar rush, and when they’d do, you bet they’d pull you closer, so they could wrap their strong arms around your body crushing you with love. 

i see soonyoung, mingyu, and seungkwan literally kicking their feet from the cuteness, and because they are so cute themselves you’d just end up cooing over each other, and fighting who’s cuter 

for wonwoo, and vernon - i guess this might be a bit of an unpopular opinion? (i know they are not the most lovey dovey, touchy feely people), but i genuinely think they’d love their partner to be affectionate, and initiate the skinship (similarly to jihoon), because they are too shy to do it themselves. but they love the reassurance of their s/o through touch, and they’d make sure to tell you that

the ones that’d try to tease you a bit, but the second they feel you pulling away they’d wrap their arms around you so tightly you wouldn’t be able to escape them: 

・❥・ jeonghan, joshua, jun, minghao

we know that their first instinct is to tease, no matter what situation they are in. so it’s not like they truly make fun of you, they would never, that’s like their coping mechanism. it’s not everyday that you are so affectionate with them, so they just don’t know what to do, because what the hell is going on?

and they wouldn’t want to admit that they are fucking melting and freaking out because of how gentle and loving you are with them, so’d they kind of freeze and laugh, BUT the second they feel your grasp loosen they pull you right back in, and hold you ten times tighter.

+ someone sedate me, because i can clearly hear hao’s giggles, as you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face into his bare back, as he prepares tea for you before bed.

amen

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @nidda13

[sehtoast]

The Mentor and The Mirror (Homelander x Reader)

700 words, similar powers!reader, gender neutral reader.

Ask prompt: What if Homelander was "given" someone, by the higher ups of Vaught, to mentor? They have powers like his, but are a bit weaker and different. What Homelander doesn't know is that they are from the lab like him.

If he found out this person grew up like him, do you think he'd be meaner or sympathetic to them?

“Someone could kill you with a sneeze.  They really think you’re worth training?”  He asks bitterly.  You two have been out in this field for hours now, and he’s fucking over it.

Well, for the most part.

There’s something endearing and fun about teaching your pet new tricks.  See, they’d told him flat out that you were his to mentor, but all he heard was you’re his. The sentence stopped there.

You’re a peculiar thing, equipped with all of his same abilities, except that you lack invulnerability.  You’re a liability for crime fighting, but those fucks on the board of directors already made their choice.  Besides, either he trains you or Stan will be an ever present thorn in his side.  Last thing he wanted was to deal with that asshole.

“Why the fuck can’t you fly yet?  Just do it,” he gestures with his hand, “like a… I don’t know, a normal person?”

“Sorry-”  You blurt out, accidentally flipping upside down.  “I uh, they didn’t let me practice much in the rooms growing up.  Ten foot ceilings, you know?”

He blinks rapidly at that, cocking his head slightly.  What rooms? 

Homelander stores that little bit of information away for later, chuckling instead as you plummet to the ground and land on your ass.

You groan pitifully.  This has been absolutely awful.

“I don’t think I can do it…” You murmur dejectedly, sitting upright.  “It’s hard.”

Now that bothers him.  No student of his is going to fail and make him look bad, and you’re certainly not going to make him have another fucking meeting with Stan.  He rolls his eyes in exasperation before leaning down to lift you.

“Wh–”

You’re weightless in his arms as he spins, winding up to–

“N- NO, NO, NO!”  You shout as he hurls you into the sky.  You flap your arms and legs, begging your powers to work as you ascend past the clouds, further and further until the air gets thin and the world below is square patches of various greens.

“Always gotta do these things the hard way,” Homelander muses, clicking his tongue below.

You continue falling, tears spilling as you plummet faster than you can gather yourself.  You see your life flash before your eyes until–

Oh.

You flex your shoulders back and suck in a breath, and suddenly…

“About fucking time!”

He’ll never admit it, but the excitement on your face and the hug you give him makes him so fucking proud of you.  

Later that night, he delves into your files.  Madelyn’s access codes still work, and he finds your full file with ease.  Your record is squeaky clean.  No past employment, no education, no family records…

There’s nothing. 

And that’s how he knows.

He knows exactly what you meant earlier, and he knows exactly where you came from.

He knows because that’s how his file looks, too.

He knows because he came from there, too.

The next day, when you excel with laser practice, he’s proud, but he’s also resentful.  You’re not just his student now; you’re him.  You’re a physical reminder of everything he’s gone through.  

He hates you for it.

But he hurts for you, too.

It breaks his heart when you pass the medical ward and shuffle closer to him.

He used to do that, but there was never anyone walking with him.

The next time you two are out in that field, he’s much more patient despite how much it grates his nerves to watch you flounder in the air again.

He looks at you and suddenly he’s back there.  Remembers when the doctors would correct his mistakes with enough electrical voltage to actually hurt him.

It always made the lights flicker.  Made the room smell terrible– all hot and rotten.

He hears Vogelbaum’s voice.  

Not good enough, John.  Do it again.

He’s angry that you clearly weren’t subjected to the same. How the fuck was that fair?

And yet…

He’s so fucking happy knowing you weren’t.

If nothing else… they clearly didn’t hurt you as much as they hurt him.

This time, when you fall, he catches you.

Just like he wished someone would have done for him.

[breeloveschris]

You’ll Never Understand Pt 10

Pt 9 Pt 11

Pairing: Chris sturniolo x Reader

summary: Y/n always been best friends with the triplets.. until one random day in sophomore year Chris despised Y/n, and till this day Y/n still don’t know why. Nick and Matt will never understand why Y/n has never stopped being sweet and caring to Chris as if nothing ever happened.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, physical fight

Y/n’s pov:

Before I can even look away Chris throws his drink on vinnie, a little getting on me making me stumble back letting out a small gasp. Vinnie doesn’t miss a beat and throws a punch to Chris’s face, missing the hit. Although he missed the hit, his hand was close enough for Chris to grab his hand and pull him in closer to hit him directly in the nose making my eyes widen.

Vinnie falls and hits the ground as chris climbs on top of him throwing punch after punch. “Chris! Stop!” I yelled getting teary eyed. I hate fights. “Chris cmon, get off of him!” I yelled once again yet nothing was happening. “Someone help?!” I yelled looking around at everyone who was just watching. Fucking idiots. “Why arnt y’all helping??” I yelled full on crying now. Where is Nick and Matt when you need them.

I feel frozen. I can’t look away even though I can see blood on chris’s hands and I can see vinnie making a few hits on him. I hear a few footsteps running towards us but I still can’t look away from the drama. All I can see is two guys that I only caught a glimpse of and Matt trying to pull them apart from each other. I can feel someone tugging on my arm to remove me from how close I was standing to them.

“Cmon Y/n/n” Nick whispered yelled. As soon as I recognized Nicks voice, I turned around and threw myself in his arms sobbing. As me and Nick make out way out of the house I turn around seeing Sam and Colby pulling them away from each other. Fuck.. well there goes a good first impression for me. We continue the walk outside to the car. I can’t stop crying. I know I sound pathetic to Nick right now. He probably thinks I’m stupid. “Hello? Madi where are you? Chris’s dumbass got in a fight, we gotta go” Nick said in his phone.

“Okay, that’s fine.. yeah.. just let me know when you get home” Nick said hanging up the phone. “Madi said she’s gonna stay for a while and get an Uber home” he said as we got to the car, I just nodded and wrapped my arms around his torso somehow crying more. I pulled away from him and leaned against the car. My breath hitched when seeing Matt and a bruised and still very angry Chris walking to the car with Sam and Colby trailing behind us.

“I’m sorry guys but unfortunately we’re gonna have to kick y’all out” Sam said with a sigh with his hands in his pockets. “That’s okay, we were just leaving. Thanks for having us tho man, we had fun” Matt said with a small smile making Chris scoff and let out a whispered “yeah, tons”. Sam and Colby turn and walk back up to the house. Nick waits till they’re out of earshot to speak up, “Chris what the fuck was that??” Nick whispered yelled just in case they can still hear.

Chris sighed and looked at me, I was looking everywhere but him. “Can we just go home and talk about this later? Y/n needs to get home, she’s drunk and hysterical.” Chris said looking back at Nick. “No, Chris you’re drunk. Starting a fight like that?? Are you actually stupid” Matt said raising his voice a bit. I can’t help but bounce my eyes back in forth between the three of them. Chris threw his head back with a groan. “ I don’t even know why I did it, it just happened” Chris said sighing.

“Can we just go?” I mumbled quietly not sure if anyone heard me but the way all eyes on me made me know that they heard me. “Yeah, let’s go.” Matt said with a sorrow look. The thing about the boys is they always hated to see me cry. Always. In middle school they’d always buy me some kind of candy if they were the reason for making me cry. Now if someone else made me cry? Either the boys would drop them or if it was a guy Matt would always get into a fight about it.

We’ve been in the car for about 5 minutes with only the radio playing lowly. “Y/n? Do you wanna stay the night at our house? Or do you wanna go home?” Matt asked looking back at home through the mirror. “Can I stay with y’all? I don’t wanna be alone” I said in a hushed tone making Chris look back at me with guilt in his eyes. About 20 minutes later we make it to the triplets house.

We all went inside, it was still very quiet between the four of us but it was a nice quiet and not an awkward silence. I make way straight to Nicks room and into the bathroom to change out of my dress. But with my luck tonight I took my last set of extra clothes home. I groan and make my way back downstairs only seeing Chris sitting on the couch looking at his phone.

“Hey, where’s Nick?” I asked in a soft tone holding my hands behind my back. Chris looked back at me with a frown. “Matt and Nick went to the store” he said still looking at me. Oh. “Uhm.. I’m sorry to ask you this but I really want to get out of this dress like now, do you have a shirt I can borrow?” I asked very fast, I’d be surprised if Chris even caught on to what I said. Chris smirked before standing up “yeah I got you, wait here” he said about to walk past me.

I grabbed his wrist gently making him stop and look at me with wide eyes. I just look at his eyes and back down to his busted lip and I slowly reach my hand up to gently touch his lip making him wince. I quickly retracted my hand but before I could get too far Chris grabs my hand and puts it back on his face. Chris is looking down at me with a small smile but guilt is still glistening in his eyes.

Chris Grabs my waist with one hand and pulls me flush against him. Still looking down at me he brings both his hands up to my face bringing my face closer to his. He leans his forehead onto mine making me let out a content sigh. “I’m so sorry ma” he whispered while holding eye contact. He leans away and kisses my forehead dropping his hands to my hips. “I’m gonna go get that shirt for you before they get back” he said while he squeezed my hip and walked away. Well fuck.

I should’ve named this story Whiplash 🙄

If you wanna be on the TAGLIST go here

Taglist: @stuniolobbg @iloveneilperry @freshloveforthefit @keira324 @nicksmainbitch @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosreads @novasturniolo03 @robins-scoop @jennss23 @hearts4chris @creamoncreamoncream2 @tcvazq @bunbunbl0gs @lacysturniolo @chrisloyalgf @lilsstvrn @youaremyfiveever @whicked-hazlatwhore @katie-tibo @gnxosblog @annamcdonalds67 @1blowyourmind @ilovedasturniolos @bellbottombaby @dlyansworld @sttzee

[bella-goths-wife]

How would the Vees reaction to their pet falling to stockholm syndrome? Do they loose interest, do they become more obsessive, does this make them act out more to try and gain more control? So many questions!

Yandere Vs reaction to pet reader falling to Stockholm syndrome

Warnings: Valentino, abuse, punishments, verbal abuse, pushing boundaries

I think it all depends on in what way the Stockholm Syndrome presents itself

If it meant that you becoming less hesitant about doing what they asked and being more submissive while still retaining your personality and keeping your humanity in tact, they would adore it

They would instantly become more obsessive over you, because the lack of resistance would mean that they would get more pieces of you than before

They’d get to experience a certain vulnerability with you, and it would make them feel powerful to know what a command they have over you

I mean, you actually look at them with affection now

You’ve accepted your respective role as their daughter figure/pet/personal entertainment

And this would cause many more fights over who could have you for the day

They have an established schedule put in place for you because at the start of you working there, there would be many times when one of them would interrupt you when you were working with another one and steal you away

So they made a schedule that is only allowed to be disobeyed for punishments or emergencies

But after you become less resistant to your role, they’ll all want to spend every moment with you

So one will interrupt another one’s day with you and cause an argument over you

But Vox will quickly fix this by updating the schedule to suit these needs and forcing you to spend more time with them outside of the working hours

However, if Stockholm syndrome caused you to be more submissive while also loosing your personality they would absolutely hate it

Sure they love that your following orders, but your not filling their social or entertainment needs while doing so

They wanted you less resistant, but they didn’t want to completely break you

You wouldn’t fulfil your role as their pet, your just an emotionless puppet who cleans up after them

They will do anything they can to bring out your personality again

At first it was bribing you with things that are seen as rule breaking, such as offering you time outside the tower without them or being let out past curfew

But you didn’t want to leave without them, you said that you couldn’t break the rules

So they started leaving situations for rule breaks out for you to try and coax your spirit back, like leaving food your not allowed to eat out or pushing you to spend alone time with someone they knew you were physically attracted to

But you’d leave the food and always kept it professional with your old crush

So they turned to punishments

They went through voxs punishments, and nothing

And then velvettes, still nothing

And finally Valentino’s punishments, and still nothing

They even did all there punishments combined when they became desperate, but you just accepted it and asked how you could improve your work for next time

They gave up, they couldn’t do it anymore

They still somewhat cared for you, in their own sick ways

So they wouldn’t completely lose interest, your very presence would be enough to keep some interest going

And your useful, so they would keep you around and they don’t move you out from their floor of the tower to the employees floors because they still have some care for you

And sometimes they will all come in for some affection from you, although it isn’t as fun for some of them anymore

Even though your still useful, they keep you around kinda like you’d keep the extremely old dog that can’t care for itself anymore because they were passed on to you

Your just no fun for them anymore, but that doesn’t mean they can’t keep you around for when they feel the need to hurt or hold someone

Tag list so far :)

@buttercupfangirl @the-faceless-bride @lilyalone @repostingmyfavs

[arachine]

my eyes r rolling omffff waht is wrong w u and how r u so talented! it’s not fair 🙏 but anyway i can’t stop thinking about more stepbro!neteyam and how you’re going through heat and he helps you out

claiming 🫘 if it’s not taken 😁

— sinful desires !

+ pairings :: step!bro neteyam x female na’vi!reader 

+ genre :: mature

+ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language)

+ content warnings :: characters aged up (20), dark content, pseudo-cest, reader gets her heat, corruption, dacryphilia, vaginal sex, f/m ejaculation...not proofread

+ note :: hi nonnie bb! wrote this as a thirst…went a little overboard hehe :3 + not my usual format ;( bc i wrote this before going to the dining hall LOL! but yeah, this is just smth light before i get started on my actual WIPS.

“c’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he thumbs your cheek, tilting his head with an avian flutter of his lashes. neteyam could be so…generous. always too eager to help—too eager to make everybody’s problems, his problems.

right now he had you splayed out in a clearing, one hand holding his weighty cock, and the other holding the back of your thigh. you’ve been in this position for a while, all heavy breaths and squirms, physically (and mentally) fighting the urge to relinquish your body to him—to let him you.

you always pictured your first heat going a lot smoother than this. that when the time came, you’d be prepared and mated—but you were neither. so, one could only imagine the moral dilemma that arises when you’re forced to choose between two (very bad) options: 1) doing nothing and ultimately succumbing to the pain, and 2) fucking the only guy who conveniently happened to be within proximity.

the latter was obviously, not something you would’ve chosen for yourself—but the pain was excruciating—debilitating, and your current location wasn’t giving you much room for choice.

“look, you can stay here and suffer, bound to the forest soil, or you can let me help you,” the boy slides the weeping tip of his cock over your exposed folds, “which one sounds better? wallowing in pain or big brother helping you, hm?”

the tail of his query is accompanied with a prod to your hole, and you whimper in response, arching up to grasp at his chest. neteyam finds amusement in this, chuckles under his breath and gets real low on top of you.

“c’mon, baby, say it. tell me with your words. not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do,” and with that he’s lifting your chin up, using the pad of his loitering thumb to swipe away crystalline droplets.

you nod your head slowly. first once, then twice, lifting your hips up to meet him halfway. he takes your silent acquiescence as an invitation to glide into you. and, fuck, it’s so easy…fits right in like a glove. overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

you’re trouble, he thinks. because he knows that after he fucks you, gives you what you want—he’ll only want more. and that hunger will only grow, it’ll fester and fester, until the only way he can get off is with you. and that couldn’t happen, no—because this was only supposed to be a one time thing.

what would the people think of their future olo’eyktan messing around with his little sister? surely, they’d denounce his claim and deem him unfit to lead, right? and what would your parents think? they’d probably disown the both of you, or worse, disown you. and that’s the last thing he wants—to ruin you.

which is why this has to be the first time and the last time.

“‘teyam make me feel good please!” you clasp your hands behind his neck, forcing him to lay atop of you, “wan’ it to stop hurting…please, just…help me.”

there’s a flicker in your eyes when you say it, and he likes it. makes his spine tingle and his pupils dilate. because he wants to hear you do it again.

“you want me to make you feel good, huh?” a slow, drawn out thrust, “want big brother to make it feel better here?” he unsheathes himself from your gummy cunt and taps the top of your mound with the weight of his length.

“mhm, need you now, ‘teyam. please, hurry!” of all the years he’s known you, he’s never known you to be a beggar. the sheer desperation in your voice alone was enough to make him forgo all of his disciplines.

without pause, he guides his mushroomy head back to your leaking hole, and pushes himself all the way in until the fat of his balls is plush against your ass.

its’s so swift, the way he completely takes charge, like he’s done this before—like he’s been inside of you. your body was foreign to him, a stranger, and yet, it wasn’t. and he convinces himself as much because of the way you’re responding to him.

you are putty under his touch, and every moan, grab, clutch, and clench only confirms this.

faster, deeper—harder, you preen. and he obeys. does it when you command it, and doesn’t ease up. it’s almost unreal, the way the two of you are moving in perfect synchrony. like you’re liquified metal, melding together to form one.

“shit, feel you clenching. are you close, baby?” he syncopates each word with a harsh thrust, letting his weight distribute to one arm as he encases the side of your head. you nod eagerly, mumbling a string of expletives, followed after a series of strangled cries.

“f-feel it coming, don’t stop.” you’re so close, so, so, so close to that sweet release that you’ve been chasing after since it happened, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

unconsciously, you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, and pull him down by the neck until his face is mere centimeters away from yours. you’re close—too close. so close that if he were to dip his head down just slightly, he’d kiss you.

your eyes flit to his lips, to his eyes, and then back to his lips. calling. beckoning. pleading.

kiss me, is what he thinks they’re saying. but he’s scared it’s too…intimate. a kiss would solidify things—feelings—and he didn’t have the mental fortitude to come to terms with that just yet.

this was supposed to be something he did to help you, he reminds himself. he was just doing you a favor, because that’s what brothers did, right? just a favor. nothing more, nothing less.

but eyes stare back into eyes, and breaths intertwine with breaths, and shit, he’s a weak man. this was another deadly combination that could only be blamed by the forced proximity. damn this.

he presses his lips to your own, harsh and heavy, leaving no room for anything. no room for hesitation—air—not even for protest. and when you kiss him back with just as much want, just as much need? he’s melting into your touch, ramming into you with such unbridled velocity, that you don’t even register the accidental love bite you gave his lip.

he works through it though, licks the blood up and continues his assault on your cunt. lays thrust after thrust until your body falls lax in his hold and your thighs clench shut around him.

“that’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “go ahead, give it all to me.” with the encouragement of his sweet words, you come undone all over his cock, with his own release not too far behind.

“fuckfuckfuck, where you want it?” he grunts out through broken moans.

“inside, do it inside!” you sob, grabbing for his neck once more, pulling him down to your chest. you help to draw his release out by moving your hips in unison with his, holding yourself up on your forearms as he sheathes himself in and out of you at a dizzying pace.

with a final piston, he finishes inside of you. the two of you stall in the air briefly before he gently lowers you down onto your back, him following soon after to lay on your breasts.

when his breaths even, and the bioluminescent plants begin to glow, he unsheathes himself from inside you and sits back on his knees. you look so pretty, he thinks. with his spent seeping from your hole, and your skin all slick with sweat.

“this can never…” you breathe, chest still heaving and breaths ragged, “never, ever happen again.”

a beat. he doesn’t answer. and you repeat yourself, only this time, with more power behind your tone.

“hey, this can never happen again. got it?”

he can only manage to give you a nod, but he doesn’t give you his word.

because this? this wouldn’t be the last time. he was going to be selfish, and if that meant ruining you for anyone else in the clan—if that meant keeping you from finding a potential mate, he’d just have to ruin you.

© arachine 2023

[itstheghostofmypast]

Thanatophobia

Idol Choi Jongho x (F)Reader

Summary: How long does it take one to actually give up on you? How long does it take the other to realise that love is more than just an act of receiving, where bottled-up fears and insecurities may be enough to pull someone away from you, especially the someone Jongho had begun to take for granted.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.4k

Est. Read Time: 20 min

Warnings: Strong language, thanatophobia (fear of losing someone you love)

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Choi Jongho was anything but heartless, he was arrogant at times, he was stubborn most of the time, he was emotionally clueless sometimes, he was sarcastic most of the time, he was petty at times and he was straightforward most of the time, but what he was not, and he quotes, was a ‘heartless moron’. Now, he wasn’t one to fight, in fact, they’d barely ever get into a fight, usually because she would be compromising or choosing to accept defeat, but tonight was not one of those nights where he was given this privilege, where she would easily accept defeat and brush off his sarcasm, no, it just escalated into something ugly and gruesome.

It all started when he came home early for once, the dorm was empty too, or so he thought, for the moment he had flopped down on his bed, face forward, someone had jumped on him, scaring the daylights out of him.

“Boo!” “HOLY SHHHH- what are you doing here?” he whined, rolling over when she rolled off him, both of them lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling, well, he had his eyes closed, she turned her head to look at him with a pout, scooting closer, wrapping her arms around his arm as she pressed her cheek smush against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of her baby bear, “I had the spare key, Wooyoung gave it to me last time I came over but you were out, so he was like I should have it, gave me his saying he’d get another one and-” Cracking open an eye he scoffed, “You sure talk a lot to Wooyoung huh?” turning his head to meet her gaze, she had stopped her monologue, to stare at him in utter shock, “What? I’m not wrong, I didn’t even know about the key thing- Sitting up she glared at him, “That’s because you weren’t home, Jong.” The tension between them was getting thicker, he was tired physically, but she was tired mentally, “You haven’t been responding to my texts or answering my calls, so I doubt you’d know- “I have a job, you know?” he scoffed, following suit, as she sat on his bed on her knees, frowning at him, and he sat at the edge of the bed, both in a heated stare off, he was actually waiting for her to avert her gaze, or mumble an apology or whine cutely to end the fight, so he’d feel like he’d won like he had control, some form of dominance, “I can’t just respond to your every whim.” That was probably what set it off, because the next thing he knew she got off the bed and snatched her phone off the side table, slamming the bedroom door shut when she marched out of the room, her tantrum just set the whole forest on fire as he marched behind her, slamming the closed door open and calling out, “Yah? Are you in your senses? Why are you being like this!?” reaching out to grip her wrist he turned her around, ignoring how she was trying to pull away, “What is your problem? Are you mad about the Wooyoung thing? Cause I’m right about that! You’re my girlfriend, not his!” by now he was yelling, furious, frustrated, fed up, but at what? At his hectic schedule or her? Or perhaps he was upset over how he was unable to spend time with her and the time he had been given was ruined by his own pride. “Y-You think I don’t know that?” she yelled back, snatching her wrist out of his grip, “I know you’re busy too, but the least you can do is leave me on read, can’t you? You don’t even open my texts! I can’t magically guess your schedule!” He should have stopped there, he should have, he had realised that he was in the wrong, but was he willing to accept it so easily? No. Why? Because he was jealous, he was upset and more importantly this was the first time she had ever ignored him, ever chosen to show how his nonchalant attitude had upset her, this was not what he expected, he just thought they’d go on for ten minutes and she’d probably change the topic, not list down why he’s a bad boyfriend. “Doesn’t mean you get all cosy with Wooyoung.” “I-” she stared at him standing in the hallway for a good minute before taking off her ring and throwing it at him, the clink of the gold ring hitting the ground resonated within the silence, before her words cut through it, “You’re a heartless moron.”

That was three hours ago, three hours ago when he had let her walk away like she didn’t even matter to him, instead, he stood there watching the ring on the tiles, the ring she had gotten for them on their first anniversary, it wasn’t a promise ring, but more of a ‘just know when we’re far apart across the world, you’ll always have a piece of me and I’ll have a piece of you’ kind of ring- why’d she throw it at him, shouldn’t she have taken it with her and asked him to give the one he was wearing back to her?

“I love how that’s the only thing you’re worried about.” Wooyoung sighed, climbing up the stairs, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he carried two bags full of groceries up the quiet staircase, “You’re a real idiot you know, she did come over three times last week, the poor thing sat outside the apartment for an hour the third time and that’s when I gave her my key…Hongjoong told me that was the right thing to do too.”

“I- I was busy.” The youngest huffed, staring at the gold band, twirling it around in his fingers, “It’s not like she told me, I was too busy to read her texts, so she should’ve understood-”

“Understood what? That you’re a shitty boyfriend?” Wooyoung stopped at a step, the step that led to their floor, someone was sitting on the floor next to the door to the hallway (Yes Woooyoung had used the fire exit to come upstairs, San had told him this was a great way to work out- he’d kill the bastard for that tomorrow), hugging their knees, head resting against the wall, puffy eyes closed- was she asleep?

“What? Why!?”

“Jongho, did you even call to make sure she reached home safe?”

“Well… I…no.”

“I’m amazed you found someone who loves your useless a**.” With that Wooyoung hung up, sighing as he walked over to her, placing the grocery bags on the floor to crouch down and gently shake her shoulder, “Excuse me miss, but are you in your senses- how are both of you this dumb?”

.

Jongho slammed the front door open, not even bothering to put on his mask as he hastily made his way out of the apartment, only to bump into a smaller form, hearing a familiar yelp he instinctively reached for her, wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, pressing her against him. He let out a breath of relief, at the realisation that it was in fact her, she was too tired to pull away or even push him away, and that was why she just stood there, letting him wrap his arms around her, resting her forehead against his chest, too drained even to protest. He looked behind her to spot Wooyoung standing there, grocery bags in hand with the most disapproving look he could muster, “Found her on the staircase, poor thing cried herself to sleep there- then there’s you, a bastard with an ego as big as the sun-”

“H-her phone was powered off.” He quickly defended himself, pulling her even closer as he tightened his arms around her, not wanting her to escape. The moment Wooyoung hung up on him, he realised how bad he had f*cked up, Wooyoung was never one to leave a conversation hanging, that is until he completely gave up on the person, and if Wooyoung had given up on him, did this mean his patient, compassionate, honeybee had done the same? Though his question was answered with a loud sniff, causing him to look away from Wooyoung and look down at her, only to meet her teary gaze, his gut twisted at the way she asked the dreaded question with her voice trembling, as if it was being thrown around by her pestering insecurities, insecurities that he had brought to life, that he had helped manifest within her, by constantly pushing her to the sidelines, by ignoring her beckoning calls, by looking right through her even though she stood right in front of him, with a warm smile and a heart of gold- one he was not worthy to call his own; “D-do you not love me, anymore?”

It was this very question that had him look up at Wooyoung in panic, a cry for help, though the fox-like man shrugged and walked past them, mumbling, loud enough for him to hear, because he knew the girl crying in the younger man’s arms was sobbing so loud, the floodgates of all that pain and anxiety that was slowly drowning her had now enveloped her completely, leaving her a mess, a mess he was supposed to fix, so she couldn’t hear him, she didn’t hear him, when he side-eyed the youngest, and walked past them, “You f*cked up, fix it yourself,” slamming the main door shut behind him, finally leaving the two alone in the corridor.

An eternity later the two were sitting on the same staircase where Wooyoung had found her, the two were staring at the window ahead, she thought she was tired before, but all that crying just amazed her, at this point, she felt like she’d faint if he pushed any wrong buttons. Though they had been sitting quietly for the past hour, he had not uttered a word, which meant he wasn’t going to be the first to break the tormenting silence, as usual, it would be her, to kneel and-

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened at the foreign choice of words, slowly turned her head to stare at him with shock through her puffy, swollen, eyes, licking her dry lips before speaking. Still, he cut her off again, this time turning to face her, the determination in his eyes somewhat scaring her, she’d only ever seen that look when he was going to sing a song that wasn’t the easiest when it came to the number of high notes, perhaps he was going to sing a perfect melody that was just for them, in tune with their pent up love for each other- for his locked up love for her, a symphony she wouldn’t mind hearing over and over again.

“I- I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you need to understand I did not doubt your loyalties or misjudge your character, I was only self-projecting my insecurities, I know you’d never do such a thing, I know you love me and I- I” he paused, watching how her breath hitched, eyes widening in expectation, biting her lower lip unsure of how he felt about her, “I love you so much it turns me stupid- it scares me how much I want to be around you, I- I want to be vulnerable around you and…what if you don’t like it? You don’t like me when I’m not my at my strongest or my best…and I- I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he reached in his pocket to pluck out the ring, showing it to her, “Could you please find it in you…to give me another chance- you don’t have to say yes right away, I won’t force you, I could never…just…let me drop you home this time…yeah?”

She stared at him quietly, blinking slowly as his words processed before letting out a sigh, scooting closer as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck as she placed a soft kiss against his warm skin, sighing when she felt him pull her closer, gripping him tighter when she heard him sniff, feel his body trembling against hers, letting him finally let it all out against her, but never looking up, her face buried in the crook of his neck, mumbling sweet positive affirmations or kissing the skin as she let him have his moment, only to feel him slowly push her away, looking down at her with puffy eyes that matched hers, and a nose pinker than hers, “Please…stay.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, you dummy.” Sighing she pulled off him, taking the ring from him but he didn’t let her, instead, he slipped it back on her finger, “I was waiting for you to come and give this to me…if I wanted to leave you for good, I would’ve told you to give me the ring you’re wearing back.”

Letting out a dry chuckle he shook his head, he was an idiot, one who couldn’t read situations as well as he boasted that he could- he guessed he was clueless when it came to love, at least he had someone as patient as her to help him pull through his minefield, frolicking through it like it was a field of daisies.

“Thank you…” he sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, before leaning closer to capture her lips in a kiss, only to realise how long it had been since he had kissed her, making him pull her closer, cupping her face as he tried to make up for lost time.

Finally pulling back she smiled at him out of breath, watching how he took in equally deep breaths, his cheeks all puffed out and pink, “I’m out of practice.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got all night.” She smiled.

“I prefer taking things to the bedroom, not a voyeurism guy.”

“Choi Jongho.”

“I love you” he chuckled, watching her shake her head in defeat as he pulled her up to her feet, laughing when she whined at how he was speed walking to the apartment, mumbling, “Do you want me to carry you? Because I will, for as long as you want, honeybee.” And that’s what Wooyoung saw before Jongho closed his bedroom door, carrying her half-asleep form in his arms, bridal style as he mouthed a thank you to Wooyoung before going to finally cuddle up next to her like she had originally planned for the night.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky

[delcakoo]

sharing a bed with enha₊˚ପ⊹

requested

ღ PAIRING ! enhypen x gn!reader

ღ WC ! 2k

ღ GENRE ! fluff n’ crack

a/n: ty for the request ! i put a lot of thought into each member and what i think they’d be like hehe enjoy <3

// LEE HEESEUNG !

besides when he’s trying to be sneaky and play video games under the sheets, sharing a bed with heeseung is very peaceful

not that you can talk much about his late night gaming habit 🧌

he successfully kidnaps you into playing with him at least once a week despite your sad attempts to save your sleep schedule

you’ll both just be lying in bed with heeseungs switch connected to the tv absolutely screaming and firing insults at each other

listen, super smash bros was very serious and intense, romance didn’t matter anymore.

you and kirby were absolute menaces, even though you sadly lost to heeseung and link a couple of times

he just got lucky though 🙄

as for when it’s actually time to go to bed, you guys don’t exactly have a set sleeping position or routine

the most he’ll do is lazily fling an arm over your waist

but usually the two of you just try to find any position that’s most comfortable

if that means hugging each other to death, then so be it

or if it means facing away from each other with limbs all over the place, that’s cool too

if you hadn’t noticed, hee is just very very chill

you’re in for perfect nights 98% of the time with this boy, especially after late night game sessions since you’re both absolutely exhausted

10/10 bed sharing companion <3

// PARK JAY !

mister grump..

when you guys are in bed, he’ll just be like “night.” and then boom he’s out

yeah, jay is not much of a romantic when he’s tired </3

however he might give you a lil peck on the cheek or forehead if he feels like it!

sleeping is just very serious business for your boyfriend

i mean remember that one en’oclock episode where he somehow fell asleep in like five minutes even with all the other members giggling around him?

yeah, he can and will sleep anytime, anywhere with no struggle at all

so sharing a bed with him is amazingly easy :0

no snoring, no shuffling or moving around, nothing

he’s basically just a log next to you

buuut that doesn’t mean you don’t move around yourself

which jay finds extremely annoying, because why can’t you be perfect and fall asleep instantly like him? 🙄

“what are you doing?” he grumbles, eyes closed as he feels you flip onto your other side for the hundredth time

you scowl, “not all of us can fall asleep in ten seconds.”

suddenly, two strong arms yank you into a warm embrace, preventing you from fidgeting around any longer

“sleep.”

you huff in fake annoyance, but in reality it feels amazing to be pressed up against his warmth

any night you need to be held, he’s ready with open arms!

or if you want to hold him, go for it, he really doesn’t care as he can fall asleep no matter what

but enjoy dealing with grumpy, confused jay in the morning~

// SIM JAKE !

CUDDLERRR

bro needs to hold you !

you’re right there next to him?!? of course he needs to touch you !

you’ll literally get into bed, and like a hungry piranha he just grabs you

for the rest of the night you’re stuck there as his personal teddy bear

not that you mind at all

however if you do find yourself needing to change position he’ll reluctantly release you, as long as there’s some kind of physical contact remaining

even holding hands is enough <3

he’s too cute 🙁

each night you guys talk for a while, jake likes to tell you funny things the members did and what promotions were like

then he listens intently to you ranting about your day, nodding along enthusiastically the whole time and making comments along the way

“that’s so stupid! i should go to your work and tell them off.”

“he seriously said that to you? i’ll fight him!”

yeah, your boyfriend gets all the tea and gossip about your work

then when you’re both finally ready to sleep he lazily mumbles out a “g'night, luv you.”

*forehead kiss* (or at least he aims for your forehead, it’s pitch black after all)

everryyy single night <3

and now you can’t fall asleep until he says that and gives you your kiss :’)

// PARK SUNGHOON !

mf acts like you’re such a nuisance being next to him in bed even though he’s secretly relishing in your presence

“wah, you even want to sleep with me now? you’re so obsessed 🙄”

*a minute later*

“i’ve just granted you a once in a lifetime opportunity to sleep next to the park sunghoon and you’re not even going to hold me?”

yeah, you may think with those big arms of his he’d wanna be the big spoon but he really does find it comforting being in your embrace

sunghoon is so glad the darkness hides the cheesy grin he makes every time you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him right up against you

he’ll simply melt into you, sometimes throwing his much longer leg over both of yours and tangling them together even though he knows it’s a habit of his that you despise

“hoon, your feet are popsicles! get away from me!” you yell, making the boy let out a mischievous snicker as he shuffles even closer

“you love it~”

however on some nights when he wants to be all protective and “manly” as he calls it, he flips you around so your back is against his chest and traps you there for the night, leaving small kisses on the back of your head

“hoon, too tight. i can’t breathe.” you whine, desperately tugging on his muscular arms practically glued to your waist

your boyfriend scoffs, loosening his hold slightly, “wow, you’re so ungrateful. you know how many people wish they could be in your position right now? 😒”

if he’s feeling extra mushy or just seconds from falling into dreamland, he may offer a quick, barely audible “love you”

and when you say it back he gets all flustered, pushing his face deeper into the crook of your neck

you can’t help but giggle at his duality

have lots of fun teasing this man in the morning for being all soft with you~

// KIM SUNOO !

sunoo would be so happy to share a bed with you!

it’s a literal bonding activity to him even if it’s just the both of you lying there waiting for your body to lose consciousness

but before sleeping you guys will usually take the safe environment as an opportunity to vent to each other or let things out

sunoo usually tells you about any worries or insecurities he feels, or if he needs advice about the members

then you do the same with your school/work

despite him usually being the one laughing and trying to brighten the mood in more serious situations, sunoo is also a very good listener

for physical touch, sunoo prefers to be hugging you in some way, even just putting his arm over you is enough

or he’ll randomly throw a leg over yours to pull you closer

and being very the observant boy he is, he always notices if there happens to be more blankets on his side and will pull them all onto you :)

once you announce you’re ready to sleep, he’ll usually say “goodnight jagi, sleep well~”

and if you’re facing him, he’ll try to peck you on the lips despite the darkness

but if you’re turned away he settles for kissing your neck, making him laugh as you flinch away from the ticklish gesture

oh and, sunoo loves getting blackmail pictures of you asleep in the morning, drool falling down your chin, hair a mess

he thinks you look adorable and makes it his lock screen 😒

when you wake up he’s dead

but still, softest and caring boy as usual <3 won the jackpot with this boy fr

// YANG JUNGWON !

now this one

he would be a bit chaotic to be honest

all day he’s stuck being a mature, confident leader for the members despite being the second youngest

so when he gets the chance to just relax and be alone with you in bed he’s giggling like a kid on christmas eve

“y/n~”

you snap an eye open at the sound of your boyfriend’s very much awake voice, “it’s like midnight, what do you want? i was almost asleep.” you complain

he straight up bites your cheek, making you yelp and swat him away

laughing, he suddenly gets on top of you, crushing you under his weight, “i can’t sleep.”

he’s a bit of a child yes, but please baby him like he deserves <\3

after you’ve successfully been forced into staying up with the hyper cat, you end up watching anime on his phone, curled up as close to each other as possible

“i love korosensei, they won’t actually kill him right?” (assassination classroom is my favorite anime okay i had to mention it somewhere 🙄)

you scoff, “of course they will, at the end though.” jungwon pouts at your prediction, scooting even closer into your arms as you continue, “first they’re going to make sure we love him a lot before breaking our hearts.”

your boyfriend frowns, “they would never do that! obviously they’re going to convince the world he’s actually a harmless, loving octopus slash teacher and everyone will cheer for him and live happily ever after.”

you chuckle at his defensive tone, “sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”

after you’ve watched so many episodes to the point where both your eyes start to burn, jungwon turns on his lamp and declares you take ‘3am selfies’

you decide to not question him anymore

when he opens his camera app, you grunt in jealousy as somehow he still looks amazing despite the time displayed on his phone

meanwhile you’re next to him feeling like a sewer rat 😞

all in all, sharing a bed with won is amazing as long as you’re ready to stay up all night !

// NISHIMURA RIKI !

well

sharing a bed with niki will be.. an interesting time!!

after watching weird youtube videos and taking the worst pictures of each other possible all night, you’d have to be the one to declare when it was bedtime

he’ll agree, but that doesn’t exactly mean he’ll sleep right away too

this mf will definitely put his cold ass foot on your thigh out of nowhere, cackling when you scream and try to escape

after that traumatizing experience you’ll be like “okay, goodnight for real now.”

he’ll kiss your nose quickly, “okay okay, goodnight y/n~”

ah, silence, finally.

nope

suddenly the body next to you is moving slightly, and you realise it’s niki trying as hard as he can to hold in his laugh

you open your eyes, groaning, “yah! what could possibly be funny right now?”

he lets it out, laughing maniacally, “i’m sorry! i can just barely make out your face in the dark and it’s just—“ he gets cut off by his own cackle, hiding his face in the pillow

of course he’s laughing at your face 🧌

“seriously? why am i even dating you,” you mutter, flipping over to your other side so your back is to him, “is this better?”

“now i miss your cute face~” he giggles, suddenly hugging you tightly from behind

brat

anyway your boyfriend moves a lot in his sleep, which leads to him slowly nudging you every so often

eventually the pushing continues long enough for you to plop onto the ground

the worst part is neither you or niki even wake up from this

in the morning, pray that he doesn’t wake up first

because if he does and wakes up to find you on the floor, he will tease you for months and definitely take lots of pictures

if you’re lucky enough to wake up first, it ends with you yelling at him in confusion while he apologises through much much laughter

i don’t know what you wanted from this mf <3

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ feedback are always appreciated and motivating for me !

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount

[cloudyswritings]

More vessel biology headcanons?

Vessels are actually really, really good at burrowing. It’s probably how so many escaped the abyss after they got sealed. They got it from both parents, and the void. Which per my silly little brain, can old be contained in round glass.

the void basically erodes/decays things in fast forward otherwise?

Vessels all have one major flaw or imperfection the void couldn’t remove, THKs was either a desire for perfection or being able to make familial bonds.

Ghosts flaw is an endless well of willpower. They will never, ever, stop. They inherited from their mothers conceptual side, because their will is the slow burrowing of roots through stone and the deceptively gentle trickle of water on metal. Greenpath vessels was a sense of adventure/desire to explore. And the nosk vessels all had a sense of longing for companionship which led to their deaths.

The vessels also seem to have physical flaws too? Like structurally I mean. The prime example is THKs missing arm, in the pure vessel boss fight that same arm is what they use for the void tendrils attack and by the time we fight them in the egg it’s entirely rotted off. I think it honestly was never as strong or stable as the other arm and was bound to be lost eventually. Broken Vessels flaw would be their third horn(the one that’s broken off).

Vessels actually do still have some of their own light, you can see this in game actually—even without the lantern you give off a subtle glow. I think that some vessels actually retained some of the godly light and status they otherwise would have had, only a little though.

The above idea comes from my headcanon that Wyrms specifically are really resistant to void as far as gods go, because they always dig deep and far and in that sometimes burrow into pockets of void far below the surface. They need to be able to survive contact with it in the short term at least. This nature would explain how some vessels retain minute traces of light, and why the pale king was the one actually standing at the mouth of the abyss waiting for vessels.

given time, soul, and light a vessel can grow to enormous sizes- or eventually metamorphose into a wyrm proper. Albeit one still tarnished by the void

in fact I wonder if any of the seeds/eggs dropped into the abyss hatched young Wyrms instead of vessels? Maybe they escaped or something? I don’t think this is likely but it’s a cool idea.

vessels are deceptively light, as in like hornet could carry THK on her back if she needed to- they’re literally hollow in a way

Void and water don’t mix, it’s like oil and water. That’s why we float in the blue lake.

The void itself might be the remnants of an ancient sea that covered the world beyond Hallownest before the age of bright gods. It would explain the trilobite creature we see in deepnest and the way the abyss and the rest of Hallownest appear to be made of fossilized shells. Plus if it’s the remnants of the sea then it could be something like a microbial mat that’s really toxic to life? Like maybe it’s a magic microbial soup? Magic microbial goop even. Vessels are goop.

Vessels are really really strong compared to other ways of containing things, like THK held the radiance for a long ass time. If a vessel tried to contain a weaker god they’d probably just be able to tbh. Like anything weaker than the nightmare heart if probably fair game for yoinking.

Vessels also sometimes inherit the hunger of Wyrms, and looking into their eyes gives the sensation of falling into the maw of some great beast. Godseaker did call Little Ghost a wielder of nail and eater of soul

Vessels are also really susceptible to outside influences, kinda like evee if they were Pokémon. This is how Ghost can use so many charms at once but also why said charms can change them so easily.

Theoretically a vessel raised by or containing a god could take on some of their traits-either by force or by accident.

Unrelatedly THK has a voice to cry out with…

I think radiance may have eventually tried turning them into something more like Grimm is for the heart, a body for her to use and a mind thoroughly broken to her will.

after-all she shines brightest against the darkness…

If they could eat, Vessels would have a truly remarkable number of tastebuds, because Wyrms will eat anything and I feel like the white lady has ways to “taste” the soil to see if it’s nutrient rich and has fertilizer.

man I’m just realizing, vessels would like some weird food, they’d definitely eat dirt

THK crunching on crystals?? Likely

Finally the horns of vessels are actually their “branches” and will keep growing indefinitely unless trimmed or broken periodically, this comes from both parents. Wyrms need to constantly replace burrowing teeth and Roots are beings of constant growth and pruning.

[strangersmunsons]

fried egg I'm in love

Eddie makes you breakfast.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!reader, established relationship, pet names, Eddie fries you some eggs because you should always eat breakfast before a big day. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of Y/N. Warnings: mentions of food & eating (obvi). Word Count: 1,200-ish i am completely delighted by @mcbeanzontoast 's artwork and these sweet lil drawings (1, 2) of Eddie are all i can think about, thank u for the inspo bb! <3 btw srry if this isn't how you like your eggs or if u hate alt-rock themed puns. but personally i feel very strongly about the over-medium thing.

“Eddie. Eddie.”

There’s still no response from the motionless lump on the bed. He’s twisted up in the thin, pilled sheets like he tried to fight them and lost. 

His breathing is slow and even, clearly still in a deep sleep. You hope his dreams are pleasant, but not so pleasant that he’ll be upset with you for what you’re about to do.

You lean closer to where you think his ear might be. It’s hidden under a mass of thick curls, but you're pretty sure you’re in the right spot.

“Eddie!” 

It comes out even louder than you intended. Oops.

“Huh!”

Eddie jolts awake and tries to roll over, but only succeeds in tangling himself further in the bedding. He squirms and struggles against the taut fabric for a minute, before giving up and letting his body go limp. His face scrunches against the brightness of the room, peering at you with squinted eyes.

You, who have already been awake for an hour. You, who have already washed and dressed and tidied yourself up. You, who are looking at him rather expectantly…? His full lips pull down in a frown.

“What gives?” he grumbles, unhappy to be conscious before noon. As usual.

“Sorry honey, but you didn’t hear me the first four times I tried.”

He sighs, then lets out a sudden gasp. He tries to sit upright, lurching sideways, still thrashing against that damn sheet. “Your interview!”

Bingo!

“Yes, my interview,” you say, too amused and in love with him to be exasperated. “Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time. But you can barely function when you first wake up and I can’t have you falling asleep behind the wheel. I figured I’d get you up now so you have time to adjust.” You reach out and cup his face, rubbing a thumb over his stubbly cheek.

He turns his head in your hand so he can kiss your palm. “Good thinkin', sweetheart. That’s why you’re the brains of this operation.”

You help untangle him and wander out into the kitchen while he heads for the bathroom. Because even bone-deep exhaustion is no match for Eddie's mouth, he pokes his head out so he can talk to you. “How’re you feeling, baby?” The words are garbled and foamy with toothpaste.

“Okay,” you call back from your seat at the table. Well, that’s kind of a lie. “Actually, I’m really nervous, but that’s normal, I guess.”

You really want this job to work out. Eddie’s dying for you to come and live with him in his apartment, but you want a little more financial stability before you move out of your place. You promised him that once you landed a higher paying job you would take the leap. The shiny prospect of perpetual domesticity with your favorite boy is riding on this position, and it's making you gut-wrenchingly antsy.

“You’re gonna be great!” he shouts from around his toothbrush.

Eddie joins you in the kitchen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s in nothing but his boxers and mismatched wool socks. One is maroon, the other is green with stripes. “Great. You hear me? They’d be lucky to have you. In fact, you should be interviewing them, asking why they deserve to be your employer.” He’s teasing you, but he also means it.

Your stomach flutters at the praise, and at the sight of all that skin he’s showing. You know in your heart that he’s still so warm from sleep.

 He yawns, and stretches dramatically. “Have you eaten yet?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No way. No appetite.”

“Well, you gotta eat. You need fuel on a day like today.” He crosses his arms and frowns at you.

That's humorous, coming from the guy who attended six years of high school running on nothing but mini-pretzels and Mountain Dew. “Eddie, I’m way too anxious to eat right now.”

“Listen, you’ll feel worse if you don’t eat. Because if you don’t have something in your belly, and you’re nervous, you’ll get lightheaded and pass out in the middle of the interview, in which case you won’t get the job, 'cause then they’ll all be thinking, ‘This girl has the temperament of a fragile Victorian woman. Why is she even here? She should be sent to the seaside for her health.’ You know?”

“I…guess so?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you have to eat breakfast. Let me make you something.”

The Something in question is simple: toast with butter, and fried eggs, over-medium. “Runny enough to dip, but cooked enough so there’s no snotty white stuff,” he says sagely. “It’s the only way to eat 'em.”

You hum in agreement, but you’re more focused on the way he looks standing half-naked in front of the stove, spatula in hand, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He insists on making your portion first, sliding the plate in front of you and kissing your head when it’s done. “Eat up, doll.”

You thank him quietly and start to eat, watching as he goes through the process over again for himself. Now that he’s taken care of you, some of the tiredness he was staving off returns. His movements get clumsier as his attention oscillates between assembling his breakfast and being your personal cheerleader. He bumps into the counter, nearly burns his fingertips on the stove, and knocks over a glass of orange juice, but steadfastly refuses your offer to take over. Stubborn. You put a pot of coffee on for him.

You feel calmer now, watching his ministrations, listening to his reassurances. You've found that Eddie’s presence seems to be the salve for all your silly little troubles. His throaty morning-voice and dimpled smile send a rush of warmth through you, putting you at ease, like a cup of something hot on a cold day. You feel so lucky to be loved by him.

While you’re adoring him, trying not to get misty-eyed thinking about it, your sweet boy’s about to transfer his second egg to his plate. He's almost done it when he’s wracked with another full-body yawn. It's powerful enough that his eyes close, and his arm jerks the wrong way, and the egg slips out of the pan. It hits the kitchen floor with a wet slap.

Quickly, he looks down, then at you, and then back at the egg. In one swift motion he scoops it up off the floor. “Five second rule.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ed…” You’re tempted to chastise him more thoroughly because who knows when that floor was last cleaned? Certainly not Eddie. But the way he’s doting on you today makes you hold your tongue.

He shrugs. “Fine. I’ll wash it off.”

He turns the sink on so a thin stream of water comes out. He picks the egg up with his hands, and holds it under the faucet, turning it carefully so that each side gets a gentle rinse. It gets tossed casually back onto the plate.

Completely unbothered, he joins you at the table and digs in.

He finally catches the look on your face. Without swallowing the huge bite of food he just popped in his mouth, he goes -

“What?”

Afterwards, Eddie drives you to your interview just like he promised he would. When you emerge from the building some thirty odd minutes later, feeling victorious, he's right there to celebrate with you.

Neither of you say it, but you're both thinking the same thing. One bed. One kitchen table. One little apartment. One home.