#i feel maybe an off black like a very dark purple may be the way

[catboyieejeno]

don't kiss and tell: part 3 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: maybe you indulged yourself too much. you always knew that if any of you caught feelings, things would get complicated. if you knew, then why did you let it get this far? content: non-idol au, explicit smut, cursing, pet names, angst, foursome with switch! reader, switch! mark, switch but sorta sub! haechan, sorta dom! jeno, unprotected sex (pls be safe), hair pulling, fingering, oral sex (male recieving), creampie, there is plot (please read parts 1 and 2 to fully understand!) wc: 10.2k

masterlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

18+ minors do not interact !

!¡

“no.”

“but mark-”

“absolutely not.”

“mark, please.”

“we end up doing this every time.”

“this is the last time, i promise!" you plea, one hand resting on his tense arm, "and if i remember correctly, the last two times we did this, it was your idea!”

with the heaviest and most dramatic of sighs, mark’s shoulders sink down in defeat, head rolling back. the last syllable is dragged out as he complains again, "but we've seen this episode before!"

"yes, but it was so long ago that i don’t even remember what happened, please!" you insist, black remote clutched stubbornly in your hand. when he takes longer than two seconds to conjure a convincing argument, your finger presses the middle play button without missing a beat, just in case the boy next to you decides to protest again.

as revenge, the bowl of buttered popcorn, still warm from being recently made, is snatched off of your lap and clutched between mark's palms as he settles under the blanket.

"alright, fine. but pay attention this time so that you don't start asking questions," he's only half-joking, even when he tilts the bowl away and out of your reach playfully. incapable of really denying you anything, mark notices your puffed out cheeks and snorts, compliantly setting the bowl between your bodies. you're busy rolling your eyes, muttering something under your breath close to the effect of "i don't ask that many questions."

while your right hand reaches in to grab a few pieces and pop them into your mouth, you train your eyes on the tv in mark's room. it's the only source of light in the otherwise dark space, illuminating the sharpest points of your faces in cool-toned hues of blue and purple.

maybe it's because he has already seen this episode and is only re-watching it to appease you—and reinforce your lacking memory of the plot—but mark's dark orbs find themselves troubled with the task of concentrating on the screen. instead, they're fixed on you, swimming over the curves of your features.

he's caught himself thinking about you more often these days: jumping for his phone in hopes that it's your name that appears when he gets a text, or staring at you with no intention of looking away unless there's a chance you may catch his eye. at first, he considered knocking some sense into himself and snapping out of this risky habit he's developed, but how could he do that when the very mention of your name provokes a whirlwind of thoughts?

without tilting his head too much in your direction and giving himself away, mark watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. much like his gaze, his mind is preoccupied with all that is you, disregarding the content on the screen.

he finds his mouth salivating as a quick flash of you hovering above him crosses his mind, suddenly reminding him of the way your weight felt on his face, shaking thighs on either side of his head as his tongue swirled around your folds to savor your taste… thank god, he's under the blankets.

and the sounds you made for him? the sweet sounds you made might very well be responsible for his newfound infatuation. mark catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to remember the way his name slipped off your tongue like velvet-

"mark?"

just like that.

"mark!"

ripped from his daydream and forced to return to reality, mark quickly blinks, eyes snapping to you and widening slightly as he orients himself, "what? sorry i-"

"i asked if this is the guy who was caught with the killer last episode?"

mark gawks at you, a certain amusement or perhaps endearment behind his eyes, be it intentional or not.

it takes him a moment to register your ask because, well, he fully expected you to ask questions because you always ask questions, regardless of what's playing—but for reasons unknown, your little quirk felt particularly familiar today, wholesome even. it's enough to make his heart slightly swell.

"or wait, no! isn't he the one who- why are you looking at me like that?"

he shakes his head softly, unaware of how beguiled he looks, and mutters out "no reason." as his lips press together again, they curve into a little grin.

you raise a brow in confusion, "i know you said not to ask questions, it's just that i wasn't sure if-"

"oh, i don't mind."

as you inspect his face, trying to pick apart what's going on with him, mark's attention starts dwindling once more. why had he never noticed how pretty you are? i mean, he's always thought you were pretty, but something feels so distinctly different now. so, what changed?

for starters, the kiss—no. it wasn't the kiss. he had already doubled back to check if that was the moment that you decided to take a piece of his heart for yourself, and it wasn't. that day, nothing that you did or said solidly implied you might have wanted to be more than friends.

then, there was the time you sat on his face. as exceptional and undeniably revolutionary as that moment was, he wasn't the only one who ate you out, and mark is almost positively sure that he started feeling like this after you deliberately singled him out; something you had done had distinguished him among the other boys and made him feel as though there was a connection between you, more than just the sexual aspects of the bet.

Or, perhaps he's just deluded, searching for any minimal interaction between you that justifies how his ever-waking thought is you. he considered that possibility, also, but it doesn't feel as likely, or at least he sincerely hopes it isn't the case.

so when? when did you make mark lee feel so special that his heart decided to beat wholly for you? it's on the tip of his tongue.

he hasn't uttered a single word in two minutes, despite your burning gaze. "okay, seriously," you sit up, ceasing the playback at once, "what? do i have popcorn in my teeth?"

"no."

"then, what is it?"

baby. that's what it is.

when you called him baby, that's when he started feeling this way.

he's never been keen on pet names, they sounded foreign or misdirected when others would use them on him. but when it came from you? it was heavenly.

ever since you called him that, voice airy and thin as you drowned in the pleasure he gave you, mark had never been the same. moreover, he could not seem to forget a single, minute detail: all three of the boys ate you out, but the only person who you called baby was him.

"why did you call me baby?" he surprises you and himself, the question leaving the safe space of his mind before any consultation is made with his better judgement.

your eyes flicker between his, "what?"

"you called me baby."

quick to object, you lean back, "no i didn't. when?"

"not right now," he shakes his head, "but that day... the day you, uhm- sat on my-"

"oh." in the wake of your realization, your heart begins to wildly leap in your chest.

it's impossible to forget the events of the game night; in fact, any time you're in the same room as any of the boys, you can't help but think of it and wonder if they do, too. often times, the memories follow you even in their absence, at moments where you're alone and randomly dwelling over your exchange with mark.

the two of you cuddling while you were fully naked and in still your post-orgasmic bliss, right before he left to grab you some clothes for the night and offer you his bed, tugging a long a blanket so he could crash on couch for the remainder of the evening...

yes, that exchange. you proceeded to not sleep a wink that night, despite the lingering smell of him on his sweats and sheets that lulled you to comfort.

however, not once since that day had any of you dared to bring it up in conversation, especially as bluntly as mark just had. so, naturally, your cheeks are blossoming, sporting a bright shade of red that is evident even under the tinted blue glow of the tv.

in your shock, you can't tear your eyes away from mark's. you're frozen in place, blinking at him as your brain urges you to spit out any moderately coherent response.

when you finally find your voice, you're a stuttering mess, "well, it's just that, uh- it just felt right, i guess. i mean, why are you asking?"

"because," he pauses, the nerves finally catching up to him, "from the moment that word left your lips, i haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"mark..."

"please tell me i'm not crazy." he interjects, fearing there's a rejection coming. if he doesn't speak out now, he might never get the chance to, so he continues, using every last bit of courage he has, "i really, really like you," his voice cracks slightly, "but, if you can look at me and tell me that you don't think about me the way i think about you, i'll never bring it up again. we can forget this all happened,"

you've been staring at him the entire time but somehow, you failed to notice the way he had inched closer at some point during his confession. when you don't pull away or immediately refuse his feelings, he starts to lean in, letting his eyes freely travel down to your lips. very carefully, he reaches up to hold your face, wary that a single wrong move could rob him of the virtue that is tasting your lips again.

little does he know that not one single fiber of your being intends to interject or stop him. when your eyes flutter closed, giving him silent permission, he presses his mouth to yours gently.

god, if you thought the first kiss you shared with him was slow and torturous, nothing could have prepared you for this one.

tenderly and gingerly, mark moves his mouth against yours, finally free of any distractions or time constraints. his fingers disappear into your hairline as he rotates his head to revel in the feeling of your warm, plump lips finally grazing his.

with no hesitation, you reciprocate his affection, sinking into the warmth of his touch. it's as exhilarating as ever to kiss him, even with the slight awkwardness that radiates off of both of you.

at first, he's modest about using his tongue, but it soon swipes against you a few too many times, pleading for entry. his eagerness becomes increasingly evident when he delivers a slight but sharp tug at your hair that causes your lips to part and his tongue to freely swipe at yours.

fuck, everything he does is so hot, and you're suddenly bursting with the need to get closer to him in any way possible.

without breaking the kiss, you reach to move the popcorn to the bedside table behind you, hoping it doesn't fall although you can't be bothered to care if it does. slowly, you move to straddle him, the skin at your waist heating up under the contact of his guiding hands that place you right over his lap.

by now, there's a growing arousal between your legs, made so much more apparent when his hardened cock brushes against your cunt and you feel how cold your wetness is, pressed flush against you. it doesn't help that he's feeding breathy whimpers into your mouth.

unintentionally, you whine out the pet name in return, and he pulls away for the first time, checking if he heard you correctly. baby: four letters and he instantly feels his heart rattle against his ribs.

"holy shit, say it again."

"fuck, baby, please."

"please what?" his eyes stare into yours—deeply, attentively, like an unbreakable trance—he's hanging on your every word, disposable to fill any demand.

with a soft batting of your eyes, you mutter, “kiss me,”

he doesn't need you to ask twice; a guttural growl leaves his throat and mark dives back in to capture your lips, bucking up to rub his erection into you. with a seemingly insatiable hunger, your hands start busily exploring his chest and shoulders, clawing at his shirt running through his hair, grabbing everything you can reach. your fingers slide up from the expanse of his shoulders to his locks, where they settle, allowing you to pull him even closer.

in this moment, mark is thinking about absolutely nothing and everything all at once. turns out, he didn’t imagine your affection, it was really there the entire time. his mind is racing; he thinks about how the swell of your breasts feel against pressed against his chest, how your tongue licks his teeth and wets his lips, meanwhile you're grinding yourself down to feel more of him— sure, you two were already on the same page about one thing, but there’s still an issue at hand, an issue that won't leave his mind even with all the wonderful things distracting it.

when the air is beginning to run short in his lungs, he pulls away again, chest heaving. leaving his forehead pressed to yours, he mumbles out a question that makes you instantly dizzy.

"do you wanna do this?"

you quickly nod, but the weight of his question isn’t clear.

"no, like, do you want to do this,” he emphasizes what he means with an index finger that points between you and his implication clicks. the sigh the breezes past your lips makes his shoulder’s immediately tense up. mark fears he may have completely ruined the moment. that is, until you answer.

"i think so," you nod slowly, taking him by surprise. a small smile sits on your lips, thumb coming up to swipe his cheekbone affectionately. he leans into your touch as you continue, "we can talk about-"

"-no, because there's no way that you actually think the earth is flat." distantly, a set of voices are heard, along with the sound of the apartment door closing. the first belongs to jeno, obvious despite the way it's muffled.

"i'm just saying, bro, there's a possibility."

"you're actually an idiot, donghyuck, oh my god," their footsteps are rapidly approaching, heading straight towards you.

"watch, i bet you mark agrees that-"

you and mark don't have time to scramble off of each other before his bedroom door swings opens with a thud. simultaneously, you both turn to face the boys who skid their heels to a stop, taking in the scene before them.

hyuck's eyes widen, but he masks his shock by simply striding inside and letting his hands sit at his hips, "woah, what did we just interrupt?" his tone is mocking and accusatory, and jeno rolls his eyes.

"oh, we were just-" you finish climbing off of mark, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

the boy looks between the two of you and the tv, nodding in understanding, "netflix and chilling?'"

jeno shakes his head, "i don't think they got to the chilling part, hyuck."

"then it looks like we got here just in time. got room for two more?" he scoffs playfully, wiggling his eyebrows at his own lewd comment that more than likely, isn't a joke. at your silence, the youngest boy sits at the edge of the bed, ready to state his case.

"i know how that sounds," he sputters quickly before you or mark can object, "but seriously, think about it: it’ll be full circle! we started with the kiss, then i proved i'm the best at head, and now we can- ow!"

you've lost count of the amount of times jeno has had to smack him over the head recently. "what hyuck is trying to say," he explains, "is that he's a horny fuck who can't keep it in his pants. come on, bro,"

mark snorts, slightly amused at the situation. he can tell you're a little flustered from being caught, even more from being proposed such an offer. he knows hyuck can be quite relentless.

the boy in question shrugs off the hand that jeno placed on his shoulder to pull him away, stubbornly whining out, "you're telling me you're not even a little bit curious about what it's like to fuck all of us at once? think about it, princess. we'll be at your disposal, again."

no because when you put it like that...

fuck, fuck, fuck.

how do you always find yourself back in the same situation? in fact, why are you even considering this?

your first instinct is to turn around and look at mark, since you're not entirely convinced that after tonight's confession he'll be jumping at the chance to share you. the two of you are stuck between friends and something more, as a result of the boys interrupting before you could continue your conversation. still, there's no denying what you feel for him.

it's not any less true that your panties are soaked and ruined at the mere idea of having all of them in palm of your hand, competing to pleasure you for the third time. even so, your decision remains an easy one: if mark isn't okay with this, then you aren't either.

you want to prove to him that you're serious about him, not blatantly disregard him and agree to hook up with his friends right after he told you about his feelings.

when your eyes land on him, however, whatever resistance you're expecting to see is nowhere to be found. mark's slumped posture implies he's completely relaxed, and he's looking back at you through a low-lidded gaze.

“what do you think?” you ask him timidly.

“is this something you wanna do?” he no longer refrains from touching you in front of the boys, letting his hand reassuringly slide under your shirt and the tips of his fingers rub circles on your lower back.

shuddering under his touch, you blink, “is it alright with you?”

the fact that you’re even checking with him reinforces that you really do like him. it boosts his ego, gives him a certain sense of ownership over you. now, he knows that if he told you he wanted you all for himself, you'd be his without a second thought.

surprisingly, there's a lack of jealousy bubbling in his chest; the idea of you bouncing on his best friends' dicks doesn't bother him. if anything, it pushes him to fuck you even better.

if they can make you moan, he'll make you scream.

"if you want to, i don't mind doing this one more time," his lips curl up to small smile, "but it's the last time."

when you turn back around, hyuck can't seem to contain his bubbling excitement. laughter rumbles in his chest, a devious expression taking over his features.

even jeno, who originally wasn't as persistent with the idea, is taking long steps over so that he can quickly come up to stand beside where you sit. it's not in his nature to overstep boundaries or even push them, and you've noticed he always seems more apprehensive when things escalated to this point. weirdly though, despite his initial shyness, he always seems to surprise you.

unlike mark and hyuck, he wears a bit of a nervous smile, but you can still see the outline of him in his pants where he grows harder and harder.

you shake your head, laughing breathlessly, "you're all crazy."

"maybe. but if that pussy feels half as good as it tastes..." hyuck trails off, licking his lips, "what do you say, princess?" he leans closer until he's slightly hovering above you, propping himself up on his hands. he's not shy about the way he gawks at your lips with unfaltering focus, waiting for them to mold and utter a yes.

so you give him exactly what he wants.

between your legs, your clit throbs, and you don't know it, but the innocent, doe-like look in your eyes makes the precum leak angrily from his tip.

the word has barely left your lips before hyuck leans in, pressing his lips to yours roughly. the first thing you notice is that it's so different from your recent kiss with mark. hyuck has always been greedy with his affection, that much you know, but it's made painfully obvious in the way he kisses you now—it's like he's in a frenzy, edged on by how hard you make him, furiously turned on and desperate to sink himself in your folds.

you were so busy molding your mouth into his that you almost missed the sensation of all their hands on your body, each with a different placement and intention. one of hyuck's hands made its way between your legs, palm pressing into your clit while the other grabbed his own erection to grope it over his jeans.

on your left, jeno comes in, rolling your shirt up so that your boobs are exposed, nipples boldening when the cool breeze hits them. his thumbs flick the buds distractedly.

mark groans quietly from behind you, squeezing the skin on your ass and thighs between his fingers before running his hands up and down your spine. he sits up to remove your shirt.

you and hyuck break the kiss for a moment as the material comes up and over your head, and he takes the opportunity to remove his own shirt, but before he can dive back into the sanction of your lips, jeno's grip on your throat turns you to him.

he lets his mouth brush over yours, a thumb tugging your jaw down. you're practically panting in his face, and you may have otherwise been embarrassed if he didn't look to be so absorbed.

"i'll try to be gentle, but every time we end up back here," his breath is hot, "i get the urge to ruin you."

indeed it seems that he plans to surprise you this time around, too.

there is such intense fervor and impatience burning though your veins right now, and his provocative words aren't helping. you want to be devoured right now, to have your clothes ripped off so that you can be used.

he casts his gaze all over your features, "speak up. what's running through that pretty little head of yours?"

you speak with the absence of shame, letting the need drip off your lips, "i want you to make me feel good,"

"you're so fucking hot, fuck," he praises, voice resembling a growl. an involuntary whine escapes your throat, perhaps out of frustration because he's still teasing you with a kiss, or maybe pleasure, since hyuck's hand is still rubbing into your core, setting you aflame with want.

or, it's could very well be because behind you, mark's hot tongue has started sliding across your skin, over your shoulder and into that sweet spot where your collarbone meets your neck.

"alright," mark breathes the words into your skin, pulling you slightly toward him, "i go first."

hyuck is quick to object, getting up on his knees, "why should you get to go first?"

"i don't know if you recall," the clanking of his belt being unbuckled makes you drool, "but you two interrupted us,"

"wait," you insist. mark looks at you expectantly, pausing his movements, "let me,"

something about the way his eyes flutter, softening as he watches your fingers inch closer to the waist band of his pants, drives you absolutely mad. it tugs at your heartstrings to see his cheeks so flushed, his features suggesting that he's both taken aback and contented by your sudden initiative.

you're basically crawling over to him now, lowering your face so that you're eye-level with his crotch and your ass is up in the air—don't worry, this new position doesn't go unnoticed by the other boys.

while you busy yourself tugging down his jeans so that they're looped around his upper thighs, jeno mirrors your actions. in less than two seconds, your shorts are slipped down and pooling where your knees meet the mattress, leaving you in only your panties.

when haechan reaches to slide it off, jeno's blocks him, "not yet. look at this," a single finger prods you, swiping down the tiny piece of fabric that covers your folds. he's pointing out the blotch of wetness to the other boy, a darker shade than the rest of the material around it.

mark's eyes are set on you, unmoving, watching the way your comparatively small hand wraps around the shape of him. he had made you feel so good last time, and because you were unable to return the favor then, you felt the need to impress him now—you wanted to see his eyes roll back as he came down your throat.

in an effort to tease him just a bit, your tongue darts out, licking a stripe across the outline of him over the black boxers he's wearing. his pouty lips form an 'o', right hand brushing your hair from your eyes.

"quit teasing and take this off for me, baby."

obediently, the tips of your fingers hook his waistband and pull it down, letting his hardened length spring free. your eyes widen slightly, meeting his, and the first thing you notice is that all of him is pretty. tussled hair, soft eyes, hollowed cheeks that suck in a breath, pink tip that glistens with silky pre-cum.

you waste no time, letting your lips slide against him, tongue collecting every drop of his arousal. as soon as your hand wraps around his base, he lets out a hiss through his teeth.

as much as you'd like to keep your focus, it proves to be slightly difficult, considering the way jeno's fingers are rubbing you, still refusing to discard the last piece of clothing that remains covering you. he's simply spreading your wetness, getting off on the fact that you're so aroused and barely anything has happened yet.

"you like that?" hyuck asks you.

you can only hum, lips wrapped around mark's slit. he hisses again, bucking up at how sensitive he is while your sounds vibrate against him.

"we should prep her," jeno thinks out loud. you clench around nothing at the thought, "how else is she gonna be able to take all three of us?"

"let me take her panties off,"

"no," he simply tugs them to the side, exposing your slit.

hyuck huffs with exasperation, "why?"

"don't you wanna watch her panties get ruined?"

from the silence, you can only assume that he's been convinced. before you know it, one of jeno's long digits is pushing into your entrance. you lift off of mark with a pop, letting out a soft moan.

it's been months since you've had sex, so you're grateful that they've decided to ease you in. you don't know how you would've handled the burning stretch otherwise, especially now that you've seen mark's impressive size.

jeno pumps in and out of you slowly, watching the way his finger becomes coated with your juices. you cry out as he adds another finger, then another.

returning to the task at hand, you replace the thumb rubbing mark's head with your mouth, sinking down as far as you can until he's disappeared past your lips.

"oh, yes, baby, just like that. your throat feels so good," he whimpers, slurring over his words. he didn't know if he was better off grabbing a fistful of the sheets or of your hair so he greedily settles for both. gathering all of your hair with his right hand, mark tugs you up.

when you gasp loudly, he gently coos at you, "breathe, baby. remember to breathe."

you nod, although you're not sure you properly processed the information. the feeling of jeno's three fingers curling in your core and hitting so deep inside of you have your mind a bit preoccupied. mindlessly, your eyes flutter closed.

"look at me, pretty baby."

with a hum, you oblige, blinking at him. your face is pinched in pleasure, your orgasm approaching quickly, but you're determined to pleasure him. you take his cock in your mouth again, cheeks hollowed as you bob up and down, taking care to swirl your tongue long the bottom of his shaft.

"ohh-aah."

you pop up for air once and mark thinks he might get a break, a second to admire the string of saliva that connects his tip and your lips, but you don't give him that liberty, quickly sucking him off again.

it's his turn to gasp now, a low groan rumbling in his throat. when his eyes close, you stop your movements, breathlessly retorting, "look at me, baby" just as he had said to you moments ago.

what were you doing to him...

mark smirks, tongue pressing into his cheek. he only manages to uphold this amused expression for a second, because when your nose bumps against his base again makes his teeth clamp down on his lip.

and when you swallow around him-

he quickly pulls you up by your hair, "don't do that again or i'm gonna come,"

"but baby, i want you to come-"

"no." mark pants, "i wanna be inside of you before i come."

your hand is still pumping him, subconsciously matching the pace jeno has sets with his fingers in your cunt. there's a wet squelching sound from between your legs, and your thighs beginning to shake.

jeno curses, landing a slap on your ass, "fuck, i feel you clenching around my fingers, you're so tight."

what sends you over the edge is a perfect combination of a few different things: jeno maintaining his speed, knuckle deep in you, hyuck taking his thumb to rub circles on your clit, and mark, even when dazed from the way you we're just pleasing with your mouth, holding your face in his hand, a string of encouragements and praises leaving his lips.

"come, baby, please. i wanna see your face as you come."

"oh, shit, shit, shit-i'm-" the pressure in your stomach snaps and cuts you off. your hips instinctively begin to roll back desperately until you're basically grinding yourself into the boys' fingers. for a moment, you cant make any sound, just letting out labored breaths in the midst of your blinding bliss.

but, as you start to come down, you realize the boys haven't let up, and you finally find your voice when the pleasure slips into overstimulation, leaving you a fidgeting, whining mess, clawing at mark's shirt for any way to ground yourself.

he takes your hands into his, admiring the sight of you overwhelmed so early into the night.

jeno draws his fingers back, instantly bringing them to his mouth where he sucks them clean.

"she's ready for you," hyuck smirks, "and you were right," he turns to jeno, gesturing at your underwear and the enlarged stain that keeps spreading as your juices continue slipping out. he uses both hands to spread your ass cheeks, "this was a sight worth waiting for."

mark slides off the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt off in the process. he doesn't bother fully taking off his pants or underwear.

"c'mere"

you scoot closer, bringing your legs together so he can slide your shorts up and toss them aside. then, with no hesitation, mark spreads your legs with both hands, hungrily taking in the sight of your wet and slick core.

there are so many nerves bubbling in your stomach right now. with the way he's staring at your figure, you swear you're about to burst into flames. the tiniest details of his being are absolutely the most mind-blowing. there's a single drop of sweat sliding tentatively down his long torso, lean and defined. his chest keeps rising and falling quickly, and you can tell from the way he looks you up and down that he, just like you, is trying to soak up every last detail of how you look.

he thrusts into his hand a few times before guiding his tip towards your folds where he slides himself between your lips, poking at your bundle of nerves time and time again. he rubs himself into you, teasing incessantly until your back arches and pleads are falling from your mouth.

"please, mark, please.."

he sucks his teeth, "please what?"

"i wanna feel you,"

and he complies, cause he's so lenient when it comes to you. he gives you a small nod that tells you he's satisfied with your response, then slips just the tip in. you had started to moan out but as soon as he pulled himself back, you end up whimpering instead.

"shh, baby, i know, i know," he bends down to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes close, pushing himself in again slowly, "i don't wanna hurt you."

after a few more patient thrusts, he bottoms out inside of you. your stomach tightens at the feeling of being full of him, deliciously stretched out and warm.

when you blink your eyes open, you notice that beside you, hyuck has pulled off his jeans and is kneeling in his underwear with his dick out, rubbing himself and spreading his leaked pre-cum over his swollen tip. he's clearly frustrated, cheeks red and bottom lip puffy from biting at it.

jeno hasn't taken his length out yet, but you can't imagine it would take him much longer. the tent in his pants, constrained by the black denim of his jeans, must be killing him.

you reach out to help hyuck and the boy shudders before you've even grasped him in your palm. he's sensitive, crying out quietly for you to give him more. for a second, you consider laughing, the peculiar sounds taking you aback.

hyuck who's normally a smart-mouthed menace is suddenly begging for you to please him?

irony aside, you happily adhere to his pleas, spitting in your hand so that it's easier to slide up and down his length. he’s a mess by the fourth or fifth stroke, leaning his weight back on his palms as he struggles to not blow his load yet, especially with the way jeno squishes and plays with your boobs.

he’s for sure a boob guy, constantly fondling them and tugging on your nipples until you wince. you suspected it since the last time, but it’s rather obvious now.

hyuck is intently watching everything, practically thrusting into you to increase the friction.

between your legs, mark rocks his hips a little harder, enough to graze a spot inside you already so sensitive from jeno’s fingers. you sigh out, reaching for him with your free hand to pull him closer.

when he fucks into your spot again, you clench, making his movements buffer momentarily. “oh, my god.” he sighs out, gripping your waist tightly.

“you’re so deep,” you're drinking up every last moan from him, hyuck, and jeno, the last to unbutton his pants. he releases his dick from the white boxers brief's and as the air hits it, his head falls back. you don’t refrain from marveling at the sight.

as mark moves to push down on your lower stomach, your eyes roll back.

"mark, baby, fuck," truthfully, mark doesn't know what he did in a past life to deserve this. you're sucking him in so tightly, your walls gripping him with no intention to let go. under his palm, he can feel where the head of his cock hits inside you. the layer of sweat on your face makes you look like you're glowing, and your soft hair is fanned out around your face, like that of a halo.

"yeah, you like that?"

you nod breathlessly, breasts bouncing up and down as he pounds into you. the hand that wraps around hyuck’s dick begins to lack consistency as you lose yourself in the feeling of mark in you. desperately, hyuck rushes to place his hand over yours and guide you up and down.

there's a coil about to break within you, your second orgasm hurling toward you with no plan to stop.

you're foggy, dizzy—the only thought in your mind is how intense the ecstasy is, how good you feel in this moment. your walls squeeze tighter and tighter until you announce:

“oh, i'm gonna come-"

"baby," he slows down, speaking softly "not yet."

"what?" you lean up, lids snapping open, "why?" your orgasm is ripped away from you as he pulls out, leaving you writhing and empty. you're left fluttering around nothing, yearning for release.

"i don't wanna tire you out before they have their turn," he looks to jeno and hyuck.

in disbelief, you pout, pulling him closer by his forearms, "but i wanted you to-"

"i will," he kisses you, momentarily calming your mangled cries, "believe me, baby, I wanna come with you. let's let them have a go, yeah?"

you shakily nod, still mourning the feeling of having him filling you up. nonetheless, in an effort to be good for him, you sit up and turn to hyuck, who's been edging himself for the last few minutes.

"fucking finally," he groans, realizing that your gaze trailing down to his cock, tells him it's his turn.

wasting no time, he scoots up to lay down on the bed and up you go to follow him, crawling over so that you're straddling his lap, only a few inches above his throbbing erection.

he urges you to come down and jeno tsks, shaking his head, "both of you are so impatient."

your entrance is already so wet that when your fingers direct his tip there, you’re able to sink right down, both of your heads rolling back at the relief.

"i want you to ride me," hyuck sighs out, gripping your hips to roll you against him. knowing that it would only heighten the experience, you reach for jeno's shoulder, bringing him closer. he's quick to reciprocate, pressing his lips to yours as his hand holds the back of your head. at first, he only rests it there, but as your hips roll faster and the moans start resonating in your throat, he pulls on the strands he grips.

"is this okay?" he murmurs, giving another test tug.

"yes," you breathe out quickly, nodding, "yes, jeno."

you hold yourself up on hyuck's bare chest, nails digging into his skin. he's especially deep inside of you because you're sitting on his lap and every sway of your hips provides your clit with friction as it rubs against his pelvis.

progressively, his and your moans get louder as both of you get sloppier. jeno busies himself by mercilessly fisting your hair, studying the way he can make you gasp out and wince.

mark is droopy-eyed, leaning in to kiss your shoulder blade.

“yes, ride me just like that. fuck, i think you’re close cause you’re-“

“i am close,” you confirm, jaw slack.

“use me, princess. keep using me until you come all over me,”

god, you want to, but the burn in your thighs is becoming unbearable. you slightly whimper “i can’t,” and hyuck starts with pleading with you, begging you to keep going.

“m’so tired, hyuck,”

you’re starting to sweat, legs weakening with every time you try to urge them to move.

hyuck realizes that you are indeed struggling, and he grips your hips tighter.

“it’s okay, i got you,” with an unsteady thrust up, hyuck manages to lift you enough to buck his hips up into you at an impossibly fast pace, chasing his own climax and prepared to deliver yours. within a few seconds, you’re coming again.

jeno tightens the grip on your hair and your high suddenly hits you that much harder—even as you come down, you’re floating, reaching back for mark who whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he drags his lips along your cheek, lazily kissing you.

“oh, shit—i’m gonna-“ hyuck slips out of you, using his hand to stroke himself until he spews his milky white liquid into his stomach, trembling below you.

“do you need a second?” mark wonders, looking over your body that glistens with perspiration. you shake your head, though it’s not very convincing.

“no, i can keep going.”

jeno lightly brushes your hair over your shoulder, his hold on it loosening when your orgasm came to a end. now, he settles for rubbing soothing circles onto your smooth skin.

"i'll be good to you, yeah? i'll take it easy." he assures you, helping you climb off of hyuck who's just barely beginning to regain his composure, dick still twitching where it lays on his stomach.

jeno practically carries you, placing you on the side of the bed that was unoccupied. as mark lightly blows cool air in your face, jeno takes his shirt off, kneeling on the bed so that he's right behind you, your back pressed to his chest. like this, you're sandwiched between both boys, your exhaustion quickly fleeting as you feel their skin against yours.

shaky fingers come up to hold mark's shoulders, and he sweetly kisses you. as you arch your back, you can feel how jeno's hard and potent tip brushes between your folds, teasing your entrance.

even though you're sensitive, you're still dripping with need. your essence is coating your thighs and mark's sheets, and now, jeno's dick, which he slowly seeps in.

you whine into your kiss with mark, breaking apart to lean your head back onto the broad chest against your backside. both pairs of hands are roaming your skin freely, and you're unable to distinguish whose is whose or predict where they'll go next. you settle for savoring every touch and grasp they leave in their wake.

you can tell jeno is reading your body language, interpreting each gasp and reaction you give so that he can speed up when you're ready to take all of him.

"you can go faster," your permission comes out mumbled, but you’re too restless to sit at this speed. he hisses at the way you wiggle around temptingly, walls massaging him. he never thought you’d be so warm and so, so wet. it takes him biting his cheek to not bust right then and there.

bringing a hand down to your ass, he gives you exactly what you want, grunting with each thrust, slamming into you at an angle that makes your breath get caught in your throat.

there are stars swimming on your eyelids from how hard you're squeezing them shut, your hips subconsciously pushing back to meet jeno's with shameless desperation, needing to feel him closer.

everything about the scene is so lewd: the sounds of your skin slapping against each others, the bed creaking rhythmically in accordance with jeno's thrusts, the drops of sweat that slide down his chest and side burns and make him glisten, even in the dim light...

mark begins lowering himself so he can take your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing the bud till it darkens and perks up, brings his fingers to your clit to rub you.

your mind is clouded with lust, vision is fuzzy and glazed; it's like something out of a dream. both of your forearms are held behind your back in one of jeno's large hands while the other one wraps around you, holding your neck and tilting your head back so that he can look at you. when he isn't watching your face, admiring the way it contorts in pleasure, he's kissing and sucking the skin on your neck.

and the sounds he makes as he fucks you? otherworldly.

the grunts he's delivering to your ear are delectable and you involuntarily clench around him, yelping out when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder at the way your walls squeeze his cock.

"shit, jeno!" you breathe out when mark lifts his fingers, dipping them into your mouth. when you lick them clean, he places them back where they were, leaving you a shuddering and fidgeting mess. jeno stills his movements, pushing himself as far into you as possible. "oh, god, you're so deep," you mewl.

with a smirk on his face, he slowly starts moving again, spreading your cheeks so he can watch the way his cock sinks into you time and time again, disappearing between your wet folds. just the sight makes him twitch.

"i'm close," he warns, twisting your hair around his wrist and pulling you close to kiss your cheek affectionately. you nod weakly in agreement, leaning into his touch. though you’re unable to utter a single intelligible word in response, a series of quiet whines leave your lips as you sit on the verge of your third orgasm.

"is he fucking you good?"

you nod at mark's question, reaching for his hands again.

"i wanna come on your ass,"

"p-please," your voice must sound no better than pathetic by now.

your stomach churns on cue as mark's speeds up his motion, teasing your throbbing and puffy clit until you find yourself gushing around jeno's dick, walls fluttering from overstimulation. it's well worth all the sensitivity, because you’re coming so hard.

god, and you still have another orgasm awaiting you.

you're suddenly being bent over as jeno puffs and huffs, sliding out of you and working himself until his hot cum covers your ass and back in stripes. he pants loudly, teasing himself until every last drop has been emptied and your covered in his release.

"yup. that was hot. i'll be back, i'm gonna go clean up," hyuck pipes up for the first time in a while, tapping his hand to his stomach to watch how his load sticks to his fingers in webs. he scoots off the bed and leaves, presumably to the bathroom.

"you gonna clean up, too?" mark asks.

jeno shakes his head, still heaving breaths, "nah, not yet." his eyes land on you but mark quickly shakes his head.

"we're gonna wrap it up here, i think," mark explains, holding you up by your waist, "i don't think she can take any more,"

"i can," you stubbornly argue, "mark, you haven't even finished, baby."

between your bodies, his dick is standing as tall as ever, red and inflamed and knocking against your lower stomach. he's undeniably rock hard, and you'll be damned if you don't get to watch the look on his face when he orgasms.

"it's okay. i can take care of it myself. you-"

you lean in to kiss his jaw, cutting his words short. when he stops talking, you bring your lips to his ear, you whisper, "i want you to come inside of me,"

his eyes widen, and you catch the way his cheeks get red when you lean back. his reaction makes your heart beat faster, and you reach to hold his face.

"are you sure?" the shock dwindles into concern again.

"if i was too tired," you peck his lips, "i would tell you. i'm sure that i want this." he grins softly, scooping you up by your thighs to lay you on the bed, diving on top of you and situating himself between your legs. he's still kneeling, and in order to kiss you, he has to lean over, lips landing on yours with so much delicacy that it takes your hand on the back of his head for him to sense that you want more.

your other hand reaches to grab his length, slowly pumping it. as you run it up and down, his breathing changes and he moves to kiss down your chest. effortlessly, mark picks you up again by your hips so that your head is the only part of you still resting on the bed.

you're so filled with desire that you moan even before he touches you. he doesn't make you wait long, though, wasting no time and guiding himself to your entrance, sopping wet and ready for him. as he directs your hips closer, you help tilt his tip down. finally, he's inside of you again with a shiver and the sexiest drawn out groan, stuffing you full.

his jaw tightens instantly at the pressure of you squeezing around him, and when he speaks, it's through gritted teeth, "you're so wet," he moves with caution since you're still hypersensitive, "and after how many times you've been fucked tonight, you're still so fucking tight. shit, i can feel you sucking me in."

slowly but surely, he starts picking up the pace, working you until sweat droplets are sliding down the side of his face.

he's fucking into you so mindfully, making sure that he pulls out enough to see most of his head, then pushing in so far that you're flush against the base of him, jolting up when he hits a spot that's particularly deep.

every time that you cry out his name, his eyes flash up to yours, taking in your fucked out expression. your hair is a mess, makeup running just a bit. all of your features are scrunched up, mouth open and panting, and currently. you're holding a hand over your mouth, the other placed over his where it meets your hip.

damn, he could come at the sight of you like this.

and he does.

he's filling you up in more ways than one now, spilling into your cunt, grip tightening enough to leave bruises along your waist. he realizes in this moment that after today, there's no way he's not pussy-whipped by you.

how could he not be, when you were taking him so well? when you asked him to come inside of you?

he also realizes that you still haven't finished and his thrusts are beginning to stutter. voice strained, mark chokes out, "aah, shit. are you-?"

"just a little more, baby, please," your words are muffled by the hand on your mouth but he gets the message nonetheless, grimacing at the overstimulation of keeping up such a speed now that he's so sensitive. he keeps going, because he has to help his baby ride out her high.

your fingers dig into the sheets as your orgasm hits you, waves of pleasure flushing through your core. your face is red hot, vision blurred, cunt booming with a pleasure so intense, nothing like you've ever felt before. a mix of your wetness and mark's cum is coating his cock now, making a ring at the base of it and spreading all throughout his length. when he'[s sure you're done, he cautiously pulls out, watching as his seed leaks out of you.

"that was-," he pauses—inexplicable, heavenly, incredible, mind-blowing—"there's no word that even comes close."

when you look over, jeno had come a second time, the sticky white substance all over his hand and thighs. he resembled both of you, breathing heavily. you take in the sight of him through your lashes, shoulders are rising and falling, hair sticking to his forehead.

the bedroom door opens about half way, and hyuck pokes his head in, "i could hear all of you from the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. it was impressive, really. oh, and sincerely, i feel envious of your future boyfriend. that dude's gonna luck out." you can feel everyone's eyes on you, face getting red, "i'm gonna knock out. thank you for that, yeah?"

"yeah," you reply, offering a bit of an awkward laugh.

mark kisses your forehead and lips before getting up, pulling his underwear and pants up. he walks over to his drawer to grab a change of clothes for you as jeno gets up, too, dressing himself.

he gives you a nod, "stay here, okay? i'm gonna grab something to clean you up with."

it wasn’t like you really could move anyway, at least not yet. your thighs were burning, and if you tried to get up, your wobbly legs would give out.

as jeno leaves, mark brings over a folded shirt and a pair of boxers for you to wear, setting them on the night stand.

“i’m gonna shower,” you lean up on your elbows, flashing him a tired smile. mark brushes your hair behind your ear, nodding.

“you wanna stay over, pretty?"

"i'd love to."

"good. wait for me, i'll be right back."

when he clicks open the bedroom door to leave, jeno is on the other side. he was about to reach for the handle. as mark shimmies out, the boy walks in, a warm, moist towel clutched in his hand.

you laugh as he shields his eyes, coughing awkwardly. "sorry, uh-is it okay if i-"

"jen, you're acting as if you didn't just fuck me. you've seen me naked twice now."

he lets out a little snicker, casting his eyes over you softly. when you reach for the towel, he shakes his head, "here, let me. can you sit up for me?" you do as he asks and he gets closer, "you have some- let me get that for you," trailing off, jeno holds your face as he gently wipes away the black smudges from your under-eyes.

you're simply looking up at him, but for some reason, when he meets your gaze, his ears go red. he really hopes you don't notice.

in an effort to hide how flustered he is, jeno moves away, going around the bed. you let out a little squeak, shivering when he starts wiping away some of the stickiness from your thighs and ass where he relieved himself earlier. then, he moves to the front, wiping between your legs with hesitance.

"why are you so nervous?"

he instantly tenses up, stilling his eyes on the bed instead of on you, "huh?"

"you're all... shy. i don't know. it just seems like after we do..." you look around, trying to find the right word, "well, this—you're a completely different person."

"oh," he looks like he wants the earth to swallow him, and you slightly pout at his reaction. maybe you shouldn't have said anything.

"you know what, forget i brought it up." you sigh gently, "it's not a bad thing, i swear, it's just... i don't want this to affect our friendship."

"it already has." he mutters defeatedly. as he finishes wiping you off, you take mark's old shirt, throwing it over your head so that you're not completely nude. his statement doesn't slip your mind, though. not at all.

"what? what do you mean?"

"the reason i get nervous," he starts, but it takes him too long to continue and you're interrupting him again, kneeling up and tugging him to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

"if you didn't wanna do this, you could've said something, jen. i'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable or-"

"no, no. it's not that. like, genuinely, it's so far from that." he laughs lightly, finally finding your eyes. you immediately relax at the sound that rumbles from his chest.

"so, tell me." you shrug.

for a few seconds, jeno tries to organize his thoughts, but his efforts are futile. he can't remember a single time he didn't wish he could tell you what’s been on his mind. in fact, for the last six months, it's been the first thing that's popped into his head when the two of you entered the same room.

fuck, man. no matter how many times he's rehearsed the same speech, it's not any easier—especially not now. you look as pretty as ever, and it doesn't help that he's made you come around his tongue, fingers and cock-

spit it out, jeno.

"i like you."

if you were expecting to feel any bit of relief, think again.

the burden that was meant to be lifted is now immediately heavy on your shoulders, and you're convinced your face has gone entirely pale.

"i've liked for as long as i can remember. and it was easy to ignore at first, until the day we kissed.” his eyes fall to the ground, “for a while, i was so mad at hyuck because i didn't want to put myself through that if i knew i wouldn't be able to have you. b-but even then, i thought ‘i might be able to forget. it was a ten second kiss that was for a bet, you know?’"

oh, god. your heart beats so loud that for a second, you think he'll hear it.

"but then, after the night we were drinking after today... after today, i don't think i’ll ever be able to forget." his hand is paced over yours as he gulps, "i was even gonna ask if you wanted to stay in my room, but i know you and mark are close and i chickened out. i think-" he takes a breath, "i think i'm in lo-"

the door creaks open and mark walks in. saved by the fucking bell. "okay, i've got you some water, a towel, and i brought the sheets so that-"

before you can even open your mouth, jeno gets up awkwardly, slightly disappointed, too. he coughs, cutting mark off. "we'll talk later, yeah?" he walks past him without sparing either of you a second glace, consumed by embarrassment and leaving you to call after him.

"yeah, o-okay." you shout, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

no, no, no. there's absolutely no way that just happened.

guilt bubbles thickly in your throat, burning bitterly as your breathing picks up.

"baby?"

you need to go home. you can’t stay here, that much is obvious. moving to get up, your heels hit the floor and you clumsily stumble, mark reaching with his free hand to hold you up.

"woah," he waits for you to stand steadily, then turns, putting down the things he brought in on the dresser before taking long strides to return over to you. his hands rest on the back of your arms. "you're probably sore, yeah? do you want to- hey, hey." he notices the puddles beginning to pool under your eyes, "what's wrong? does something hurt?"

"no, it's-" you let out a shaky breath, reluctantly meeting his eyes, "it just sucks to be right."

"what are you talking about, babe?"

"stop calling me that." you shake your head. at once, mark's face falls—it absolutely crumbles, and so does your heart.

he mutters your name lowly, leaning so that he's at eye-level with you. with a heavy heart, you brush away his hands, wiggling out of his embrace and moving to grab your clothes that scatter the floor. he doesn't move to stop you, yet.

beyond confused, mark just watches you gather your things; his breath is caught in his throat, meanwhile his brain racks to piece together a single reason or cause for your behavior. he’s drawing blanks, though. everything was going so well.

after a few seconds of standing in the same spot, he speaks up, a hand reaching for your shoulder.

"can we talk about what happened? you just-"

“mark, nothing can happen between us.”

dumbfounded, he reaches out to stop you dead in your tracks this time, "what? why?" his eyes are narrowed, eyebrows pinched.

"it's too complicated,"

"no it's not. i like you, you like me. what's complicated about that? is it because of what we all just did? because i don't care about that, i told you it was okay and i meant it-"

“no, mark you don’t get it—“

“then tell me so that i can understand why-“

"jeno just told me that he had feelings for me!” it didn’t matter that you were whisper-shouting. the words carried enough trouble on their own without needing any volume to make them any clearer or alert the man of the hour, whose room was right down the hall.

you decided to keep his much more serious confession to yourself, the one where he almost professed his love. mark didn't need to know about that. it didn't matter now, anyway.

at your statement, his persistent rambling ceases.

"what?"

"while you were gone, he told me. so nothing can happen between us, and that's that."

he shakes his head in disbelief, tightening his hold around you when you attempt to break away again, "i'll talk to him. i'll explain that you and i are already-"

"no, you won't, and no, we're not, mark. drop it." you escape his grasp which weakens at your harsh proclamation. without a second thought or any elaboration, you’re sliding your shorts up your legs. hurriedly, you begin to travel the room, collecting your phone from the night stand, slipping your shoes on, and putting in your bag your previously discarded clothes and undergarments.

"baby, you're giving up on us before we've even begun,"

fucking damn it.

you halt your packing, turning to glare at him, though there isn’t much anger. it’s hurt that reads instead, reflecting the one in his own stare. "how would you feel if i started going out with jeno?"

"what? so now you wanna go out with jen-"

you roll your eyes, rephrasing. "no. i'm asking: how would you feel if i started going out with jeno?"

begrudgingly, he grumbles, "terrible," under his breath.

"precisely."

maybe you indulged yourself too much. you always knew that if any of you caught feelings, things would get complicated.

jesus, you didn't think it would actually fucking happen.

if you even suspected this was a possibility, why did you let it get this far?

all of your belongings are gathered. your hair is tied back and your keys are in hand. your mind is racing, but there's not much you can do to help that now.

before mark can utter another word, you cast him one last, sad glance, and walk out the door.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

[romantichoneypie]

Headcanons for Lilith!

Author's notes:Just making headcanons for one of my favorite girls from nightmare mode, both sfw and nsfw!

Historic moment: She was born in the Victorian era, when she hears a great growth of vampires, and in the midst of this context she was born.

Family:

Sister: She is Anazareth's half-sister, Anazareth being the eldest sister while she is slightly younger,Anazareth is close to Lilith and the two became friends quickly, in addition to always getting along.

Mother: Lilith's mother was a witch and creator of curses and potions related to a vampire In the year 1790, she was one of the few witches who survived To the Salem witch trials Because of her husband, She had had a relationship before with a normal human and had a daughter who was Anazareth, she loved her husband but he died for ensuring her and their daughter's safety, and then had Lilith from a relationship with a vampire.

Father: Lilith's father was a vampire who lived at the same time as her mother,He was a thirsty vampire who ended up dying, his attacks were famous and many people were converted to vampirism because of him, he did not kill, he fed and turned his prey into vampires,In addition, she was successful with women, there is no doubt that Lilith may have many half-siblings. (if you look closely, Lilith is similar to yog and only the two have fangs and Lilith's token doesn't say anything if she's also a vampire)

Appearance:

About 234 years.

Lilith has dark brown hair with purple tips, they are not dyed but natural the slightly purple ends of the hair.

She wears the blindfold because she has visual impairment underneath, she was not born with this disability, she ended up being attacked by hunters and well they ended up throwing a kind of poison on her while she hunted, her face had scars but they were healed over time without leaving marks, but the young vampire lost her sight.

She uses the blindfold to compensate for her lost vision, this increases her other senses and in addition makes her see both through the blindfold and through the tattoos.

Even after years she still loves Victorian fashion for her it was the best thing she had at that time,because the sanitary conditions were terrible, many people died due to the terrible living conditions, the children, many do not exceed 5 years old.

Their favorite colors are the darkest ones, such as black, dark blue, dark green, purple, burgundy and red.

She loves gothic fashion and especially black color such as flats, black boots and dresses and dark jewelry.

She loves piercings, like the ones she has in her ear and maybe she has a bat between her breasts, with open wings and a moon.

She loves her earrings but sometimes forgets why she takes them off to sleep, they are a little heavier than normal, I think maybe she has a perforation in her navel like a small crystal.

Her veins are marked on her skin, in a dark blue tone because her blood is a dark tone almost black.

Sometimes she makes light cuts on her hand because it is necessary to use in some potions but she does not usually use hers because she is a vampire.

Her body is definitely cold, and for her it doesn't make the slightest difference, she doesn't feel cold or hot.

Her fangs show up in her smile when she talks or laughs, she doesn't like it very much but it's still cute.

Relationship:

Lilith is the affectionate type but in a more reserved way, she likes soft touches and kisses on the neck

She daily enjoys drinking her partner's blood as the meal of the day, although she does not consume other people's blood

She likes to teach her things like making potions, and especially when you help her do those things.

She doesn't consume many things like food, even though flesh and blood from animals, even so she keeps sweets and other things in the fridge for when you're there with her.

She is definitely attracted even by the smell of your blood, and that's why she loves to bite your skin.

She likes to walk with you holding your hand and showing you your favorite places in the city, such as a remote park with no one to watch the stars

She's definitely kind to you, but during sex, not exactly.

While you're both having sex, she loves to really mark you as hers, filling her body with hickeys and bite marks, her body is slightly sore the next day.

She really needs to control herself when she's with you so she doesn't bite you and transform you at that moment.

I think she really couldn't live without you after years of relationship, at some point she would turn you into a vampire, either because she doesn't want you to die or because you have some disease.

She's kind to you but only to you, and when you first met you were surprised why she wasn't as rude as the others

Her favorite body part is her thighs and neck

She loves to suck you, in every way

She enjoys having sex during your period, the taste of her blood is perfect and she feels happy to satisfy you and also to relieve your pain.

She likes to wake you up in the middle of the night with kisses on the neck and massaging your breasts

She is jealous but not exactly because of you but if someone flirts with you she would get very angry with the person and ask Anazareth to put a curse on the person

She doesn't really like affection in public

She can use potions to increase your horniness level

Kink:

She loves back scratches

Bites and marks will always be on your body in the morning after you sleep together

She is slightly dominant and loves accessories such as ropes and also collars

She loves to pour scented candles down her body to give it a slight feeling of warmth

You will like to overstimulate you

She prefers to give than receive pleasure, she loves to be between your thighs and also when she is up your face and you suck her

She loves aftercare for you

What does she like?:

She definitely loves reading books about macabre tales and horror stories

She likes to do piercings because she likes the slight sensation of pain at the moment and also finds it beautiful

She loves dresses and dressing as she did in the Victorian era

She loves affection especially kisses on the forehead

She loves to eat animal flesh

She likes cats and has one that sometimes enters her apartment with anazareth but he is free to come and go and only spends the nights

I think she would also like tarot a lot,and when he was bored he would read whatever the tarot cards said

She loves to sleep with you wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning her head on your shoulder

Definitely likes it when you say you like her real eyes because it was an insecurity.

She loves what sweet you are with her and worried

She loves that you want to learn how to make magic and potions

I think she likes history in general

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

I am so happy you write for fast forward because so many people think it is stupid when it is one of my favorite seasons of the 2003 series. I was wondering if you could write for all the turtles or just one (the wheel of wow can choose) where the reader has a dark version of themselves. While the turtles are fighting dark!reader , dark!reader start to flirt with the turtle saying things like “I can understand why my other version has a crush on you” and “You should get with me, I am totally the stronger and more hotter one” The reader gets jealous and insecure because well… dark!reader is hot and a great fighter. Maybe a confession or fluff at the end. I hope this wasn’t a confusing request. I am just a sucker for jealousy tropes. Thank you so much, love :)

Dark Version (Angst?/Fluff)

(FastForward!Michelangelo x reader (dark!reader)

A/N: The wheel of WOW said Mikey! The wheel has spoken!😂 I’ve made a few changes in the dialog, but otherwise it's exactly the same🧡 Also, since it has been some time since my last writing, it is a little short, since I need to get back into my game. But I hope you’ll still enjoy🧡

Warnings: Spelling🧡

The moment you first met the kanabo version of yourself, you were shocked. Their shape and features was exactly like yours, except for the purple kanabo skin, the light eating black hair, sharp fingernails and teeth and red eyes. Just like the other kanabo clones, your dark counterpart matched your personality, yet with a dark twist. Instead of being a pleasant person with a warm presence that pulled people, your clone was all consuming and domineering. Her words sounded promising, and she was quick to make people trust her, just like you. Except, she would use that trust against whoever she had fooled, proving to have a wicked mind that was able to put all of the other clones to shame.

The original turtles saw this clone of yours as nothing but a bad imitation. Though she may have had an appearance that matched yours, she was nothing like you, their best friend, that had managed to get accidentally transported with them to the future of 2105. They did not like her. But no one disliked her more than you did.

From the day you had first met her, you had felt threatened by this new enemy of yours. Not just from her horrid intentions, but from the storm that she managed to rise within you. You did not like to admit it, but you were, to be quite honest, very jealous of her. There was just something about the way she carried herself. From the way her spine stood straight, the way she would lean on her hip, her full hair, and her smug smile. And her fear of absolutely nothing. To put it simple, your kanabo clone looked and acted like the hottest person on earth, and was not above saying sultry things, just to catch the turtles off guard. But that was nothing compared to the day, where she would rip the rug out from under your feet, sending your world crumbling down in embarrassment.

The kanabo clones had managed to catch you and the turtles off guard one night, backing you up in some far corner of a New New York City alley, leaving all of you with no other options than to fight your way out. Or the turtles fighting while they made you hide behind some dumpster, not allowing anything to happen to you.

You watched them from your hiding spot, seeing your kanabo clone lash out at Mikey with her long sharp nails, making you shriek as he dodged. She was about to pull back, ready to throw another launch at him. But Mikey, being the fast ninja turtle that he was, managed to catch both of her arms, making her struggle to get free. But of course, that was not enough to make your clone back down. It never was.

Your dark counterpart heard you shriek, seeing you hiding behind the dumpsters. She smirked, knowing damn well what you were feeling and thinking. She knew what you had been feeling and thinking for several years. Especially about the orange clad turtle that now held her wrists in an iron grip, with no intentions of letting her go. It was time to do what she did best; catch the turtles off guard. And this time she would not hold back, intending to bring you down in the fall.

“I see”, she smiled, stopping her fight to get out of Mikey’s iron grip. “It makes a lot of sense now”.

“What makes sense?”, Mikey asked, not able to hide his curiosity. Dude couldn’t hold his curiosity for anything, even if his life depended on it.

“Why my hiding counterpart over there has such a giant crush on you”, she smiled smugly, enjoying Mikey’s flustered expression. “You’re cute”.

And just like your dark counterpart had wanted it, Mikey pulled his hands from her wrist with an unsure look on his face, all while you felt the ground under you grumble into dust. There was no way she just told Mikey your biggest secret. You knew very well that she knew things of your past, sharing the same memories as you did, and using them to trick you and the turtles. But it had never once dawned on you, that she was aware of your biggest secret of several years - your crush on Mikey.

You kanabo counterpart smiled smugly, catching your eyes momentarily, before landing a hard blow on the side of Mikey’s chin, causing him to lose balance for a moment. That short moment was all you clone needed, before she made her way past Mikey, making her way towards your horrible hiding spot. Her red eyes glistened at you as she cracked her knuckles, not sparing a moment to see how the other clones were doing.

For a split second you managed to fear, shaking behind the dumpster, as you watched this kanabo imitation of you, taunted you with her steps. You had never been a good fighter, which was the reason why the turtles had made you hide behind a dumpster, instead of partaking in the fight. And she knew that. It was a fact she often brought up, in an attempt to pull your confidence apart, and now as she walked towards you, she glowed in the energy of your fear, somehow looking even more confident and attractive than before, letting your self esteem grumble and fall into the pit of your stomach.

Your dark counterpart got ready to launch at you, with the strength and speed Sh’Okanabo had given her. But before she could leap at you, she was harshly pulled back, an alarmed yelp sounding from her mouth, as Mikey threw her towards the other side of the alley, her back slamming into the wall with a groan, an angry fire burning in her eyes, before she escalated the fight with Mikey, with the other turtles soon coming to his rescue.

The alley battle continued, until the dark turtles had to pull your dark clone back, citing that keeping the fight up would only prove to be a disadvantage for them, especially with the sun rising within a short time. Reluctantly, your clone followed their lead, leaving the battle behind, but not before turning towards Mikey one last time, making sure you could hear and see her.

“If you get tired of her, you know very well where to find a better option”. That comment made your jaw drop, watching stunned as she left with the kanabo turtles, hurrying towards their hiding spots in the shadows. All your emotions were running high. You felt small, weak, insecure, now with the burning flame of jealousy in your stomach. But then, when Mikey turned your way, you felt embarrassment rush over you, your eyes falling to the ground, not ready to look him in the eyes, and admit to what you clone had let him know without your permission.

Mikey’s brothers, sensing the need for you and Mikey to talk alone, did just that - they left the alley, leaving you and Mikey alone back in the alley, while they slowly made their way back to the penthouse, hoping that this would be the time you and Mikey would come clean to each other.

For a long moment, there was silence between you and Mikey, with neither of you truly sure what to say. You played with your finger nails, while Mikey played with the handles on his tech nunchucks, now safely secured in his belt.

The silence between the two of you was loud. No sound, yet it was ear piercing, making your heart beat faster and faster, the palms of your hands growing sweaty due to nervousness. But then finally Mikey spoke up. You were surprised to find that he was wearing an almost proud smile on his lips, standing in the sunray that slowly made its way into the city.

“You really have a crush on me?”, he asked, still smiling bright.

You bite your lip, finding your embarrassment slowly turning into fluttering butterflies, flapping their wings around inside your stomach. “Yes”.

Mikey blew out a sharp breath of air in a chuckle, taking a few steps towards you. “How long?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe for a few years now”.

Mikey moved his foot round on the pavement, looking more and more pleased, unable to stand still. “So maybe the same time as my crush on you?”

You almost lost your breath, unable to think clearly for a moment, almost stumbling and falling in front of him. However Mikey was quick to catch you, holding your arms in his big three fingered hands. You looked each other in the eyes, realizing how close you were, leading to the two of you smiling and giggling.

“You have a crush on me too?”, you asked, still not really sure that you had understood him right.

“Of course I do”, Mikey said, as if it was obvious. “I mean, who couldn’t? Only an idiot!”

You giggled at this, letting Mikey pull you in close for a hug, both of you smiling from ear to ear, before taking the time to look at each other’s faces. It was here that Mikey leaned closer to you, waiting for you to reciprocate his actions, before your lips met in a sweet and tender kiss.

And there you stood, in each other’s arms, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against each other, with the warm rising sun making all the dark shadows seem so far away.

[silent-raven13]

High School AU

(Au: All the Spider gang are in high school except for Miguel, Peter, Jess, Ben, and etc. Miles and Hobie are dating. Gwen is Grunge aesthetic with Hobie's group of friends. Pavtri is dating Gayatri being the typical high school sweethearts.)

In Brooklyn Vision Academy, Miles giggles being pin against the school lockers while his tall skinny punker's hand on his waist muttering very dirty, yet romantic words towards the graffiti artist.

Miles is only seventeen years old having on his white collar uniform with spray paint stains and embroidered sunflowers on it, his blue jacket around his waist. His hairstyles into twist part is dye red.

The Academy may be strict on their educational system, and provide more opportunities, they are quite strict on dress code. Luckily, Miles always stated he's part of the art club and they are working on a massive mural right outside in the courtyard.

However as for Hobie, the punker didn't care how many dentition, warnings and all the other lectures, he does what he wants and wears what he wants. And he never steps out of bound from the dress-code policy, he specified how his ripped pants is suitable for low income students, and brings up classism. Either way, the principal normally left him off the hook not wanting to hear him.

So here's Hobie with his wicks tied into a bright blue loose ponytail, he wore two belts of different colors of yellow and pink, and miss match shoes and socks. His blue pants with patches, ripped white collar shirts and piercings. His lips painted black, wearing eyeliner and a messy smokey black eyeshadow with a bit of dark purple. All breaking dress code in the eyes of older teachers.

The seventeen year old teenager smirks at his boyfriend having to whisper to him again, "Mi, you gonna ditch Spanish or what?" His lips hovering over his Sunflower's lips as they make out.

Miles wraps his arms around his punker's neck, "Bae, you know I can't miss Spanish. My mamí got mad for having a B in class."

"Tsk," His punker sucked in his teeth then whispers again, "Luv, you can skip a couple of classes. Yuh a smart lad." His cockney accent coming out from time to time.

"Mmm," Miles' big doe eyes on his hot boyfriend, still thinking about it. When he thinks to himself, he does this put pout where his lips puckered out.

Hobie's heart flutter by his Sunflower's cuteness. Ugh, he wants to be greedy for today, so he flirted some more. "Come on, Sunflower." He purrs having his voice low, his hands pulling his boyfriend's hips forward feeling his crotch. "Don't do me like this. I want you to go to my pad and maybe we can you know."

"I know what?" His Sunflower asked pretending to not know what his boyfriend means.

"You know," The tall teenager leans over for another kiss, his lips feeling such soft sweet lips. The sounder of their lip locking echoes up in the third floor in building A, a place no one is ever around. "Hmm?"

"Mmm," Miles sighs loving how great of kisser his boyfriend is, "Okay, but if I get in trouble I'm gonna be mad at you."

"Luv, I'll take all the blame as long I'm with you." They made out with tongue this time, Hobie purrs lowly as he pull away, "Your so fine, right now. I gotta have you." His mouth hungry for more as he went in another heated kiss.

"Ohh, mmm." His Sunflower's knees felt weak feeling those soft lips. Pulling away to kiss him, "Bae, you're too much."

"But you love it." This made Miles bashful, he does love it when his boyfriend spoil him. They were about to kiss again, until one of the doors to the second floor opened wide open. The two froze seeing their happy bubbly friend spotting them.

"I knew you two would be up here!" The brown skinned preppy boy happily said, he saw Hobie looking annoyed. "Awe, don't be mad."

"Pav! What are you doing up here?" Miles asked. He tries to avoid his boyfriend's grumpy attitude.

"Gwen kept texting you if your gonna skip your last class, but never responded." Pavtri chuckles, "and I knew it's because ya'll were up here. Were you the ones leaving used condoms on the staircase." Just joking around, he likes seeing Miles' face. So priceless!

"What! No!" The Black Latino looks so horrified like hell he'll get caught in the school. Sure him and his boyfriend done things like touching each other, but never full blown sex in the school staircase. "That's so ballsy! I'm not the type!"

Hobie chuckles, his Sunflower is too cute. His arms wrapping around his hips. "He's only teasing, Sunflower."

"Yeah, like you ever done that." Pavtri cracks up. "Anyway, are we down at your pad, Hobie?"

"Miles said yes, so yeah. We should get going!" The punker chimes.

"Alright, I'll go let the gang know. See ya there." Their friend left them alone, which was a lot better.

The punker was about to go back to kissing his boyfriend, until a hand stops him. "What?"

"If I'm skipping, I need to get my art supplies from my club. I left it in the art class instead of my locker." Miles pointed out. "And my painting is there."

"Okay, we'll go get it, but first..." His mouth went in for another kiss. The two happily share kisses.

[nightmarefuele]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?  Ren smells of bleak, ancient, betimes aphotic things; he smells of dense, static charges before a storm, the ozone and atmosphere; when near, he occasionally carries copper, and iodine, or musk, and upturned soil under midnight rain; there is always something vaguely soporfic to his scent, vital and throbbing. Kylo carries the copper and the ozone, but they're sharper, untempered, untamed. He provokes the senses more than the later Ren might prefer to artfully subdue them. Ben smells more of the vanillic pages in leather books, and candle smoke; the apricot-and-pine duotones of osmanthus, of open, brisk air.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?  Leather. (If you get Ben/Kylo variant (by the time he's the fully-realized 'Ren', he doesn't take off his gloves) hands, the palms and fingers are callused; sometimes scarred.)

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?  What is food? (Ben was brought up on Chandrila, and therefore would've been accustomed to Chandrilan cuisine—particularly the kind reserved for wealthy politicians and/or royalty. I suppose he would be a meat eater, and he probably likes seafood. I don't know why. Maybe he's partial to cheese boards. Kylo eats whatever's around, if/when he thinks of it. Ren doesn't eat.)

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?  Sure. Ben has a lovely singing voice. (Kylo is out of practice; Ren is way out of practice. His vocoder whirs nicely, though.)

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS? Ren is better at maintaining composure than his priors. If he begins to pace, physically oscillate/posture, deepen his steps, you've probably made a mistake. It's okay, though. He won't leave you guessing. If he's angry, Kylo will roll his shoulders, posture, his fingers will spasm; his & Ren's emotions primarily show through physicality, as he's, naturally, a very physical entity. But if he's nervous, upset, or afraid, he's more likely to go physically blank. If the mask is off, you'll see that reflected in his face — meaning, you'll see nothing. (His eyes are his biggest tell, but only if one knows how to read them.) If he's seated, the tendons in his arms may flex more prominently to account for the lack of motion. He rarely bounces his legs. (Yes, he does, on occasion, run his fingers through his hair. You're welcome.) ((It's more a 'raking' motion. He doesn't care about his hair as much as you think he does. He's just naturally blessed like that.)) Ben has more ticks, each of which are (usually) less angry, and his face is slightly more readable; the tells come through in his jaw and his lips, the tip of his nose/his nostrils. Fingers-through-hair thing again, just less frantically. (Although, he's the most likely to get 'frantic'/outwardly overwhelmed out of the bunch. In which case he'd cup/rub his face, lock his jaw, et al.)

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR? ...Black. (Ben opts for minimal, rich garments, but they're usually dark. Of the blue, purple, or otherwise muted variety.)

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW SO? Yes. If violence counts. (Where Ren is concerned, that is very much not a joke. @kylo-wrecked and I are both in agreement that he likes bumping heads/helmets, too.) ((He's more inclined to watch objects of his 'desire' from afar, rather than engage.)) Kylo may appreciate the occasional, ambiguous finger touch. Or he'll just stare. Watch people sleep. Pick them up and cradle carry them. Totally average, everyday, normal things. He goes to therapy. Promise. (A serious answer: If he's inclined to initiate/engage in touch, he's more likely to find inconspicuous reasons to do so. He's (generally, but certainly not always) less likely to initiate anything unless provoked into doing. Remember, kids: He responds well to anger.) Ben is still repressed, stressed, in the middle of being traumatized, etc; he's more likely to be affectionate but, once again, it takes a little doing. Especially when he means it. With feeling.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?  Ren doesn't. Or does unwillingly. Kylo is a less severe version of this; he sleeps when excessively tired, and for whatever reason, I imagine him assuming somewhat of a fetal position; he twitches, shivers. He doesn't favor dreams. (He learns to, as time wears on — in some iterations, he stops dreaming altogether. He sinks.) Ben is probably the most 'normal' sleeper of the three, but exact position can range anywhere from limbs askew to coffin-straight. As he finds himself dissociating from his environment/its people, he'll start moving toward fetal. 

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM? Yes. (Unless he doesn't want you to.) ((Kylo is the version most prone to losing sight(?) of the sound(??) he makes.)) (((Anyway. The full-bodied clip of rich soles is a beautiful thing.)))

tagged by: @petitsdieu, the one and only.

tagging (under no obligation): @brooklynislandgirl, @valkxrie, @etoilebleu, @kylo-wrecked, @swede, @renkniighted, @mayxthexforce, @walkeddeath, @pohlepen, @acharnemcnt, @grace-of-gotham, @cxcasiris, @haiiling, @popularmxnster, @chromium-siren, @iniqutous

[violetsees]

LITTLE GAME AU: A WHAT-IF STORY

Y'all remember my Little Game AU? Yeah. Me neither. Anyway, here's a Little Game story I did for an English assignment that I'm kinda proud of as it's the most words I've written.

(Song that started this stupid AU)

THE BLACK KEY:

WORD COUNT: 2,381

Here we go:

Janus's dark eyes bore into mine. Yes, I know Janus isn't his name. It's Rose, but it feels like Janus fits him more. He's two-faced; he isn't a pretty rose. He's a nightmare, a freak—a beast in the shadows, waiting and waiting for the right moment to strike, to force his way to me by his Master's side and steal the hope I desperately cling onto. I know his game. I know what he wants. But does his cold counterpart want the same? No. Or so it seems. Rose stares at me, one arm hidden behind his back. His stare makes me uneasy, so I try to ignore him and focus on Holder, who's serving me a glass of unknown purple liquid. I take a small sip from the glass, worried it's poisoned. My hold is delicate as I am weak from chasing after Warren Davis for the last few days. I'm met with the surprising taste of grapes. It's grape juice, something I haven't had since childhood. Supposedly, it's Warren's favorite. I'm not sure why Holder mentioned that about his Master to me. I didn't pry. I don't care enough about Warren to want to know what he likes and what he doesn't. Holder is better than Rose. Rose lies, and Holder tells the truth. Unfortunately, sometimes it changes. I'm not sure how to feel towards these Butler twins. I don't like them. They bring me pain and suffering. 

I didn't feel like attending the feast Warren Davis set up for me today. I just didn't feel like looking at my captor and seeing him play with the ornate key, my only way to escape from this horrid mansion. He's cocky about it. Whenever I do come out to eat, which is becoming rare, he laughs, cracks jokes, and pretends we are good friends. Why would he do such a thing as no one but me, him, and his butler spies attend? I know the smiles he gives me are fake because they never reach his eyes. He makes me uncomfortable. So, here I am, in my bedroom with Rose and Holder. Rose is standing near the door, keeping his white-gloved hand on the wooden door. Warren sent them to drop off my food, and they did, as the silver tray was on my lap, but they were still around. Maybe they do like me.

"You two can, uh, go now. No need to stand around and watch me eat," I say, my voice meek. I laugh nervously. "You're both, um, dismissed," I say, trying to copy Warren to get them to leave. The two only listen to Warren's commands. They keep lingering. I look around my room, its blood-red walls a sort of comfort for me. My white candle is the only light in this grand room; its fire is dim, dying. I need to find a new one, but I'm unsure where I'll find another. I'll ask Misty, the living doll. She might know. Or I'll ask Madam Alice. Warren favors her, so he may have told her secrets about the mansion I can use to my advantage. Shadows dance on the wallpaper. They grasp each other and make themselves dip. They tango, shadowy black dresses sway. I try to eat. It's some sort of meat with vegetables and mashed potatoes. Who makes the food again? Warren? That's a very good question. The fact he pretends to care about me is sickening. This thought alone almost made me not want to eat, but I know I’ll have to. If I don't eat now, I won't be able to for days. Hell, Warren may even strap me down and force me to eat. He'd done it before when I first arrived. A mistake, it was, thinking about that day. I wish I never came. I wish I never stepped foot into this wooden prison. Now, here I am, playing hide and seek with Warren for eternity and getting fed every few days. Holder backs off, walking to his twin brother. He whispers something in Rose's ear and leaves the room. Rose comes closer. "I have something to give you, Jared," Rose said. His hand goes to his back pocket. I avert my eyes, grabbing the glass of grape juice. I sip while he searches. I almost spit out my drink when Rose pulled out a black key. What? "I, much like Holder, want to escape this place. But I and Holder can not as Master needs us." He stares at me like he always does. "So, I beg of you, please live in the outside world for us." He hands me the key. Its cool metal on my bare hand sends shivers down my spine. I shoved the key into my pocket. I'm terrified I'll lose it.

"Wha… How?" I ask. 

My eyes shrink. I make my way towards him, hopping off the bed and dropping the tray onto the floor. It spills. I grab his shoulders. 

"Why would you do that? He can hurt you. Won't he know?" I plead. Rose and I never had a good relationship, but the idea of someone putting their life in danger scares me. I wanted freedom. But I didn't want it to be given to me like this. I was hoping for a change of heart from Warren, even if it was hopeless. I didn't want this. Please let this be a joke, even if it's cruel. Please let this be a joke. Please let this be a joke. Please let this be a joke. Please let this be a… Please… I don't want this.

"It's okay," He admitted in a monotone voice. It's like his life isn't important to him when it is. All lives matter. His response to the idea of possibly dying is too calm. He forces my hands off his shoulders, his wavy blonde hair swaying with the movement. "It's okay." He repeated.

"No, no! It's not okay!" I yelled, not loud enough for others outside the room to hear. 

"Escape tonight. I'll distract him." 

He walks out, ignoring my pleas. I grab his wrist, but he keeps going. I dig my heels into the carpet and pull back, wrapping both hands around his wrist to keep him from leaving. His other hand shoots up from his side and drags my hands off him. The sound of my door shutting marked the end of our conversation.

Eight hours ago, I had that conversation with Rose. I pace around my room, worried and scared. I stop when I see the food on the floor. I forgot about that. I keep pacing. I need to stop walking as my legs burn, the embers shooting pain when I move. I'm tired. So, so tired. Another day of seeking and chasing. But my fate hangs heavy in the air. My mind is racing, moving too fast, I can't keep up with it. Will it go wrong? What will happen? I can't get over why he would do that. I don't understand, no matter how much I think it over. It's weird. I turn my head to the balcony window, the night sky a reminder of what I'll be doing. The moon shines brightly, white light blinding me. It seems Crescent is in a good mood. I look away. I can't stand it. The idea of the Moon-god being happy when I'm not irritates me. A knock on the door makes me jump. Who at this hour needs me? 

I open the door to see Misty, with her long raven hair and round pink glasses. What does the maid need?

She stands tall compared to me. Her fair porcelain fingers tug on the brown, white, and gray feathers of the duster. She seems antsy. Why?

"It's time."

"What?"

"Goodbye, Jared."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll miss you."

She walks away, leaving me with more questions than answers. It takes me a few seconds to process what she said. Warren is distracted. I need to go. Now. I look around the room. I don't have much to take since I only bought the clothes I wore when I arrived. Warren forced me to change into the suit I have now. He made me slick my hair back. I'll quickly say goodbye to Madam Alice. I dash out and shut the heavy, dark, wooden doors of my bedroom.  

My footsteps thump against the crimson carpet. I search for the hall with Alice's portrait. It takes me a few more seconds to find it, these mansion halls are like a labyrinth. They all look the same, with the same potted plants, wallpaper, tables, and paintings. The walls seem to close in. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I need to go. 

"Alice?"

 I call out to an empty hallway. I have a feeling her painting is around here. I walk a bit and stop in front of an ornate frame. It's gold glistening. It's hard to see her. I should have brought my candle. I forgot to bring it in the heat of the moment, even if it was dying. My hand goes up to touch the frame. 

"I'm not sure if you're there, Alice, but I just wanted to say goodbye, for real this time." 

The silence is deafening. I keep my eyes on the painting. Madam Alice is a moving painting, but she sometimes leaves her frame. Her reason for leaving varies, but she mostly leaves because "standing alone for hours and staring at an empty hallway is boring."

"Jared?" 

She finally spoke. Her head peeks from the side of her frame, curious. She looks at me through the black veil that covers her eyes. She adjusts her hat. "Why are you saying goodbye? And what do you mean 'for real this time'?"

I stand on my tippy toes and place my hand inside the frame, trying to find her hand. She helps, placing her gloved hand in mine, long fingers intertwined. 

"I'm sorry, Alice, but I need to make this fast. Rose gave me the key so I could finally leave. I can finally escape." I smile. I let go of her hand and ran. She called out my name, but the call of the outside was louder. 

I pass by a room, the blood-red wallpaper the only thing I recognize.  The beautiful sound of a violin matches my panting, creating a bizarre symphony of instruments and humanity. I hear a tense talk when I press my ear against the door after curiosity gets the better of me: Two voices—both masculine. One voice sounds alien-like, and the other is more flamboyant and higher. Rose and Warren's voices. Rose sounds worried, contrasting with his usual confident and deceitful tone.

"Something is wrong."

"Nothing is, Master." 

"The house is saying something."

"Let's go back to practicing, shall we?"

"I'm already good at it."

The violin stops.

"Yes, but you can get better."

Shuffling and rustling of fabric. Hard thuds of footsteps against the wooden floor. It creaks. Warren's footsteps match the beat of my heart. I feel something wet run down my cheek. I place my hand on my cheek and pull back. Clear liquid. Sweat. I'm nervous. I should stop, but I can't. Footsteps stop. Sound of wood meeting wood. Warren must have set the violin down somewhere. Most likely a table. 

"What does that mean?"

Silence. Unease. Rose clears his throat. 

"Well… you are already good at the violin, but you can get better, do you understand?"

"I think."

"So… let's pick it up and play again."

"Sure."

This conversation was weird. I was thinking about how peculiar this talk was when it hit me. This is Rose's distraction. So I ran. If Rose loses Warren's attention, I'll lose my progress and the key in my back pocket. But it turns out Rose lost his attention after I ran. Warren had gone after me without me knowing. The walls are closing in. Shadows dance. Chandeliers fire flicker. My legs are tired. So tired. I take out the key. The front door is so close, I can see it. I see the dark outside from the small glass window on the front door. 

"Don't go!"

I hear from behind me. Huh? It's Warren.

 "Please, I need you," He spreads his hand towards me. Tears pour from under his red glasses. This is so odd. Why is he acting like this? I can't help but feel bad. 

"Jared…"

I stare at his tear-stained face. I feel dread. My head hurts. I feel the pain from behind my eyes. I raise my hand to ease the pain, but I stop. My hands go to shove the key into the hole to get out. I fumble with the key. 

"Please…" 

He's getting closer, and my heart pounds in my chest. My hands are shaking. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock! I'm panicking. He's even closer.

"Please stay with me," He whispers. His voice is so soft. What's wrong with him?

"I don't want to die," 

That makes me stop for a moment. I look at him. He looked like a small child, terrified. His eyes are tiny. He's trembling. His gloved hand goes towards me. I'm uncomfortable. I unlocked the door and slammed it shut. I put my weight against the door, panting and taking in the fresh air I desperately needed. 

I'm met with the sounds of chirping birds, a lovely harmony. My back is against the door. The door's intricate design is digging into the skin of my back, so I pull away. It's over. It's finally over. 

Please don't let this be a dream… 

Please tell me I won't wake up in that mansion… 

Please… 

Please…

Charise!

I have to see my beautiful wife. After years of being apart, I deserve to be with her. I raise the key to eye level. Ire ran through my veins, so I threw it into the murky pond. I threw my black blazer into the water. I ripped off the green bowtie from my neck and threw it onto the floor. I raised my hands to mess up my neat hair. I scream. All the years of suffering had finally caught up to me. Waterfalls meet my hands. Sorrow and pain and… relief. Finally, freedom. 

I'll see you soon, Charise. 

(Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Especially specific ones hee hee)

[hazbinhappy]

Hey there! It's always fun to see people engaging in creative and fun things in their spare time. Enjoy your spring break! <3 I would like to request a match-up, if that is alright. I identify as she/her and am heterosexual. My personality type is ISFP, and I love performing arts! I have done both backstage and on-stage work as a theater girly, performing in musicals, more specifically, is my specialty. I love the thrill of being on stage, knowing I am bringing joy to people just by being entertaining. Singing, acting, and dancing are my bread and butter. I also like writing poetry and my own music. I play multiple instruments and like experimenting with new ones,DJ boards are fun too, and I recently got into that technology. I love classic literature. I am also the kind of person to dress up, even for video conferences, lol. If I had a demon form, it would probably be very pale, shoulder-length dark wavy hair, kinda big head with eyes that resemble cds if you actually look for too long, and generally is kinda on the short side in comparison to others, long black nails that she keeps in stiletto style, likes to wear purple and blue dress clothes a lot, and possibly have bunny ears too that she tucks into her hair since they are floppy. I just came up with that off the top of my head for giggles since why not. I can't really think of anything else to throw out there, take care, and have a fantastic evening/morning/afternoon/night! <3

Your Matchup is....

Vox!

Hear me out hear me out hear me out! I paired you two up because of the ability to be personable! Lemme me elaborate:

I won't lie: I have no clue how anyone would meet Vox! It can go so many ways! But I think you being someone who just makes music videos on social media (think of tiktok) for fun and you were gaining a lot of traction! Maybe you also were working for someone to run their social media PR

I'm not too sure but I am one hundred percent settled on it being you having gained his attention through social media

now that seems like Velvette's area, right? Yes, but I think Vox has a say in that department as well because come on? He has to at least have some voice in the PR of VoxTech

Anyways: let's say that Velvette suggested you as someone to join the PR team for the V's because their last one got themselves murked in the most recent extermination

Vox didn't care really until you showed up to get a video approved (that you happily voiced and created)

he didn't want to seem too interested but he liked that you had the personality that drew people in and kept them smiling and entertained

so of course he exploited that... at least in the beginning.

he kept you WORKING until you complained and said something which was a little dispute but y'all worked out a schedule

this was the slowest of burns because the man will not admit his feelings for the love of god

most likely you having to come and call him out on his behavior because the constant stalking and assignments just to see you was getting annoying

once y'all are together it's of course not all sunshine

he is constantly bitching about Valentino or Alastor or even his consumers and employees (just a whiner honestly) but you offer occasionally advice or just listen so he has a place to vent

he is of course going to make sure you have everything up to date! and you'll probably be the safest because he knows where you are

you probably avoid trying to use his money, but wow there is suddenly a VoxTech theatre??? That is so crazy and oh my gosh what is that?? You're in charge of it all and get to manage it and do whatever!!

it may sound like a weird match, but please see the vision, I see it.

"Hello, my dear-"

"Vox, you know I absolutely love your technology, obviously, but..." You frowned as you stood on the ladder fiddling with one of the many cameras in the theatre hall.

"But what?" He frowned as he watched you through the camera, "The cameras help with people being disruptive or just in general being a bad audience-"

"Yeah, but they glow. They ruin the ambiance."

"So?"

"Soooo they ruin the fact that the theatre is supposed to be completely dark so you can watch the show."

"... I suppose I could find a new solution."

"You better or I'm finding a way to take these all out myself."

[clarafell]

@nagarese has made a contract.          —         ★

The rumbling of distant thunder does not bother the sleeping, wilting-looking girl in the bed in the beginning. The second time the thunder lashes upon the calm yet slightly chilly Mitakihara City is what instantly stirs the girl from her sleep with a panicked jolt. A patchwork quilt is far too heavy upon her body, even though she. The heaviness of the quilt causes her to shove the heavy warmth from her body, uncomfortable and lost in a fog. The sound of heavy rainfall and thunder makes her feel stiff and uneasy, so she has to take some deep breaths to calm herself down.

Where am I? What happened— Her first instinct as soon as she is free from the blanket is to look at her left hand to make sure the silver ring on her finger is still safe and sound. The purple gemstone is clear and beautiful, but... Something is off. She stares down at her ring a little longer until the pieces click together in her head, slow yet still far too hard.

Her ring, the one holding her soul, is safe... The real issue is how part of her power was stolen by some giant WRAITH. She couldn't remember why she made a contract in the first place either. They took her precious crimson ribbons as well, leaving her in the dark. All she remembers is staring at the fluttering ribbons in the wraith's hand until everything faded to black.

She has lost the ability to invoke her weapon. She was tempted to try summoning her weapon, but it was too risky. She didn't know where she was, after all. She felt the loss in the very depth of her core. Losing her weapon is the punishment for biting off more than she could chew by fighting by herself— It was a really big punishment. She needed her weapon to fight...

What was her purpose in this world if she couldn't fight?

Damn it. Why can't I have my shield? All of my weapons inside that shield would be more helpful since I could still use them... But I don't have that shield anymore, do I? Doubt bit into her flesh as soon as she thought about the shield. She has always had these memories of another life, another world, for as long as she could remember. The problem with this is the fact that she had no proof. All she had was sheer stubbornness and perhaps a little bit of faith that these vivid memories were not delusions of a lonely girl.

A quiet knock makes her flinch while simultaneously bringing her her back to the reality of her situation. She was in someone's home. The cozy style of the bedroom looks warm and familiar, but she was still in someone else's bed. She still had her magic to help her out if any troubles came her way... At least when it came to humans, anyway. Finding wraiths would be another issue.

The knock came again, more sure of itself. Homura remained sitting up in the bed, unable to do anything else but stare at the door. The storm outside grips her heart, coaxing the memories of a storm and a torn city to come to the surface of her mind. She stares at the door, quietly wishing she could pause time to flee. But she couldn't do that anymore. Maybe, just maybe, she has never had such an ability.

The knocker opens the door, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Violet eyes meet gold.

❝ ...Mami... ❞  Homura breathes out the familiar name, forgetting all of her usual formalities. She was not expecting to see her here. The tension in her body, however, does not disappear. It only grows, though now she has to force herself to not be an open book. She needed to be unfeeling, ready for any surprise that may or may not be in her way. She still stiffened up as soon as thunder or lightning reminded her of its presence outside. There used to be a time where she liked storms, reading on stormy days were always nice, but those overwhelming memories tainted any of her attempts to relax during a storm.

❝ What... What are you doing here? ❞

It hasn't clicked yet that she was in Mami's bedroom.

[teamdarkweek]

Let us consult the text of origin together:

My thoughts under the cut, but you can just enjoy the video.

General observations:

Let us never forget Rouge's wings are pink here. In sa2 they were black, they have since been purple. I think it's possible she covers her wings in some kind of think fabric or latex to match her outfits and maybe protect her - but primarily for the matchy matchy

In the shiny toy-ish style of heroes, Omega looks incredible. He looks so much better than everyone else.

Team Dark take in turns to be the most determined; it genuinely feels to me like they all do want this. Nobody is just in it for the loyalty or ride.

Team Dark should get to fight Team Rose. I would love them to duke it out with the Girl Scout commander and his two most loyal members.

Opening Cutscene:

First let us appreciate: Rouge just broke in to Eggman's again. Iirc she inserts herself into SA2 basically the same way. Plot driving queen.

It is odd to me that Rouge had no idea what she was finding, but did know the code. This 'happening upon' Shadow has always seemed strange to me and I am suspicious of it. It seems to me they might have wanted her to be looking for him, but bottled it at the last chance. Especially because she doesn't seem to be working for GUN here, this is just very convenient.

Omega is legitimately scary when he's first introduced, with a lot of the hallmarks of classic horror monsters in this first sighting of him (the close ups, the prey-through-predators eyes shot, all the action shots to keep you confused, minimal speaking etc.. I have no statement on this, it's just neat.

It must be quite a traumatising thing to wake up to, but Shadow takes little time to react. I really like that he doesn't recognize his name when Rouge says it.

It is weird to me Rouge just sits in shock at being shot. Was she not expecting a trap? Perhaps she got hit in the head or something?

Omega's aiming just before Rouge splits them up is so funny. I said I wouldn't use screenshots so this post doesn't become too slow to load but look at this:

His hands just circle around wildly. Shadow is going straight for you. Either you're not aiming for him or you're not calibrated correctly my love.

Rouge's exhausted and shocked face is adorable and I love it so so so much. This is peak Rouge IMO

The fact we see Eggman's base trashed - loudly trashed - and he does nothing about it could be a first nod at his current predicament we see in the Chaotix story, but I may be reaching.

I love the start of the chorus as they're coming to an understanding. I love This Machine, maybe more than I love my boyfriend but not more than I love my cat. It's so up there though.

Rouge bounced Shadow off Imega when she scooped him over and he rebounds into a defensive stance. No notes just cute.

Shadow's eye roll as she makes them all put hands together. You just woke up how are you so sassy? Amazing. No notes.

The actual skipped conversation must have been quite short, since Shadow knows nothing and Omega is a new robot, but I hope it included Omega inteoducing himself at least a bit. They don't say his name in this cutscene, or Rouge's but the audience probably knows her. Its just odd to me because I feel like team sonic say eachothers name a lot, but my memory may be faulty.

Seaside Hill + Ocean Palace + Egg Hawk

"Immediate destruction if distracted." Omega fully threatens to kill them if they don't work hard enough. I am not complaining, but he is a scary boy and we should remember this.

We should have known this wasn't Eggman because he reacts to Omega (an obvious E series robot) and not Shadow (a literal living weapon he had had locked away that should not be walking around). But me personally was a dumb kid who was too bad at video games to get to play team darks story before I had to go home so here we are.

Grand Metropolis + Power Plant + TC

Rouge has the least reason to be targetting Eggman, but she is quite determined here. I would suppose it is on behalf of Shadow, since she doesn't know Omega that well to be heart broken for his plight. It's nice to see that she too expresses her sentiment by violence, something often reserved in fanon for Omega and arguably Shadow.

Further to the above: she starts a fight with Team Chaotix literally and only because she is in a fighty mood. They were fr walking away, minding their own business. I also think that Espio's assumption that they might have it in for the client is valid, since they've probably been jumped by enemies of clients before. Rouge is literally just on a warpath and mad at the world. Iconic of her.

Casino Park + Bingo Highway + Robot Carnival

I do wonder what Rouge was wondering. If she was wrong, perhaps? Or what the Chaotix were doing? She couldn't suspect they're working for Eggman, could she?

Omega works in metres because he is no fool

Shadow is actually very calm talking to Eggman here. It suggests that either Rouge has not filled him in on anything much about Eggman, and/or he wants to learn for himself and isn't taking her and Omega's hatred at face value. This may make him seem a bit dozy here, but I actually think it's a sign of how untrusting he is, and with good reason. I have often seen the take that Rouge should have told him what's going on, but I propose that it is possible she told him some, he didn't believe her easily, and so she stopped telling him before the crazier stuff, because he'd never believe that. A bit of a leap I know.

Rail Canyon + Bullet Station + Egg Albatross:

This is the first time I think Shadow seems really determined. I propose it's because Eggman snubbed and disregarded him, and that is literally a tortuable offense. Joking aside, it's nice to hear the change in his voice now he's more set on his target.

Rouge is less sure of herself now. Tbh, it's probably been a really stressful day for her. She may need a rest.

Shadow offering Omega his revenge instead of fighting him for it is a nice touch. What a good team player!

Omega's shaking fist at the fake Eggman gets me. I love it. It's so ott and goofy but also a great way to communicate with his limited face.

The Shadow Android scene is actually quite frightening, like with Omega's introduction it has a little touch of horror. Imagine how you'd feel, if it were my android clone I would feel pretty nauseous and scared.

'Ultimate Life Form Data' - Metal answers the question of 'is Shadow a Robot?' As soon as it was asked, but nobody has ever listened to Metal Sonic about anything, and they aren't about to start today 🥰❤️. But did Metal know what Shadow was? We presume it had seen the Shandroids, and knew they weren't him, otherwise Metal would have just copied one of them.

(Frog Forest + Lost Jungle) + TS

"Talk about being stubborn and full of surprises" is so uncalled for from Shadow's perspective. He's never met this guy, how dare he read him like that.

This fight is so stupid, I almost believe it's just them being friendly. You know Sonic's pretty freaked out at seeing Shadow again, but I have had kittens before and sometimes they just have to show their excitement with biting. I think this might be that? Because Rouge left no particularly bad blood with Sonic. Now if she and Knuckles started it, I would understand the hostility, but Shadow and Sonic totally start this one.

Do you think Sonic felt bad that he went straight in to fight Shadow when Shadow fully just had no facts in his head to help him make good choices? I'd feel bad lol.

Hang Castle + Mystic Mansion + Robot Storm

Shadow tefuses to answer Rouge's question then proceeds to loudly answer it to himself with her just metres away. Keep being you, Shadow.

I like that they refer to Omega to ask if it's the real one, even though he can't - nice team trust moment.

Egg Fleet + Final Fortress + Egg Emperor

'Even if I'm not real - I'm still the Ultimate Life Form' resolving Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) before it even begins. In seriousness, it's quite a contradictory statement, probably because he doesn't know much about what that means. Has Rouge told him? We haven't seen someone explain that in the cutscenes, so I presume so.

Rouge immediately turning away from Eggman's body is so funny to me. 'K cool bye'

The first time I'd forgiven her not seeing that it was clearly Shadow in the goo. But Rouge, come on now. Why would they all be the exact same alien goo container with a spiky starshaped thing in them? You have seen Shadow Android. This shock is not necessary.

Why is there not enough goo to cover the ears? They can hear you guys.

'Hey Omega, did I ever tell you that Shadow is a Robot? And, well, nevermind - good luck." ARE YOU TRYING TO GET HIM KILLED? I also have to presume she genuinely believes this here. It's such a weird line.

Omega is so smart. He has been dumbed down of late, but he's not stupid anywhere here. It is perfectly reasonable to assume that the one kept separately with it's own guard robot is at least more important than all these mass stored without an E unit dedicated to protecting it.

"Some things never change, do they?" How would you know? Did she tell you this? That's such a funny portrait of herself for Rouge to paint. Forever unsuccessfully trying to steal chaos and master emeralds, generally predisposed to being rude and disobedient? Or did he just observe that himself.

They leave it off like Omega may not be a recurring character from here. I wonder if they weren't sure if he'd be liked, since in SA2 they killed off a character that ended up being the most popular thing they'd made since the series began. Nobody is competing with Shadow's cult fanbase, but I wish more people like me loved big robot boy.

[nouveauxamoris]

i think u should post more design hcs... if i may suggest the big three in the bitch brigade :3

IM SO ON IT! just like the last design hc post, i’ll add little rundowns of some of the design traits!

DAZAI

my dazai design has gone thru a LOT of phases, as well as just a bit of exploration… a few common and solidified traits about him however:

- dazai’s very tan, and his hair is VERY curly, bordering coily. in my hc he’s ethnically mixed :3 (japanese and bangladeshi!)

- soft but sharp face, big nose, and soft big eyes. thick eyebrows too! i based his colour scheme off the manga one, so, dark brown almost black hair instead of a lighter brown, and dark brown eyes instead of a chestnut brown.

- SNAKEBITE PIERCINGS! in me nd the lovely @fiftyofhearts ‘ hcs (hes the asker here hai ethan :3), he got them done w ranpo and yosano.

- he’s fat. okay. i said so. the silhouette of his big ass clothes (the trenchcoat specifically) makes him look a little smaller, but thats still very much true.

- he’s scruffy. goes through periods of shaving vs not shaving but generally has a little bit of wispy facial hair more often than not. also, he’s transmasc!!! he binds w bandages also its not good. don’t do what he does. i don’t encourage unsafe binding

- 14 to 16-zai was very hyperfem. i don’t think he had that realization that he was trans until a liiiil bit later. maybe around 17? very subtly transitioned. i dont think he outwardly came out to many people other than probably chuuya, oda, and ango. everyone else just caught on eventually. he definitely went solely by his last name to disassociate from his deadname and eventually chose the name “osamu” as his first later on

- prisonzai is FULL of facial hair! his hair has gotten a lil longer too. that’s due to the fact that i’d imagine honestly his hair grows Very fast. and they’re not gonna give him a razor to shave this is literally prison

- he’s a lesbian btw

SIGMA

somehow, the sigma design has stayed relatively linear.

- LATINA SIGMA REALNESS!!!!!!!!!! a little ethnically ambiguous canonically because she was made from a book. duh. but tbh i think shes argentinian

- tan skin, very cool undertone. soft and droopy eyes, SUPER thick eyebrows, and white eyelashes. very round face and big and wide arched nose. she has a bit of a pathetic and sopping wet look to her, but she still looks very kind and gentle. most of the time while she’s masking (usually while working), that kinda works in her favour. adds to the warm and inviting feeling she’s got goin on. however, her resting face is very sad and miserable.

- she’s tall and lanky, kinda skinny. very lean and relatively average build. her colour scheme and outfit design is adjacent to the way she’s drawn in the manga. i love her so much but i dont like the anime depiction of her outfit… sorry bbg. she’s perfect in every way however

- i think generally, she’s very androgynous. enjoys dressing very androgynously too. you know how in stormbringer lippmann is described as like, so androgynous to the point where if he dressed femininely men would go crazy ‘nd if he dressed masculinely women would go crazy?? yeah. she’s got something similar goin on. switches between dressing femininely and masculinely and very in-between often. always doing something cute.

- in my eyes she is so transfem. no sort of medical transition, tho… just socially. came out that page serving cunt and she’ll continue to the day she dies

- she wears press on nails me-thinks. usually black almonds or stilettos, sometimes she switches it up to purple however.

- hair cut is kinda weird but like ???? its like if u mixed a hime cut w a wolf cut basically. or smthn like that. lots of layers. yes that’s her natural hair colour btw, she’s just cute like that.

- she’s also a lesbian btw

JŌNO

i’m only rlly getting into drawing jōno recently.. so lots of things keep changing. however, i HAVE decided on something.

- jōno is very much so blasian. lightskinted…. hair is pretty wavy but rests pretty straight just cuz of the haircut. the red is dyed btw. she didn’t care much abt the colour, someone asked to fuck w her hair, and she begrudgingly told them to go crazy. everyone seems to like it however, so she’s down w it.

- SMILE LINES. SMILE LINES AND EYE WRINKLES. product of keeping her eyes closed literally all the time. and her stupid smug resting face. she’s also filled with freckles and beauty marks. majority of them are on her face, but she’s definitely got some around her body as well.

- jōno is Tall. around 5’11” ethan has decided. she’s got a very graceful build but she’s NOT small, nor thin. lots of muscle and fat collecting around her thighs and legs, her strongest asset when it comes to physical strength methinks. have you SEEN how violently she’s able to kick people??? cmon now.

- very elegant woman in every aspect Except personality. i love her she’s actually SUCH a bitch

- again. TRANSFEM! if i like a male character.. heh… well… let’s just say they’re no longer male. (unless you’re dazai. he’s boybossing it up every day)

- she’s ALSO a lesbian btw

- i don’t have a lot to say for her i just love her so much omg

[chaosgremlinmunson]

I don't have a title for this, I wanted to explore the feelings and thoughts that come with anxiety and depression and how that could have affected Max during season four.

Tw: suicidal ideation, depressive episode, trauma and just very sad thought. Please read with caution if any of this is triggering for you.

Max sat in her dark bedroom, surrounded by blankets and shadows as she stared at her wall, blankly. Lately, everything had felt empty, devoid of any of the joy she'd been grasping for, try as she might, she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. Her life had continuously been spiraling for years. Ever since she was young and just starting school she'd been the butt of jokes - the unwanted, unneeded friend trying to worm her way into people's lives and hearts. Before Hawkins she'd learned the hard way to lock her feelings down - let no one close to you, keep those walls up and defenses up higher. So high even the dragons in town couldn't break them down. 

She scoffed inaudibly as that last thought had crossed her mind. Who'd have thought she would be sitting here thinking about dragons of all things? She'd opened up and let these annoyingly endearing geeks into her heart and then she'd lost the one constant in her life. Her shitty family, and now her mother and step-father, Neil,  just stared through her. Like she was the reason this family was fractured. Of course it was her fault, everything was always her fault. 

She gripped her knees close to her chest, her tears silently falling down her cheeks. She just wanted the pain to stop, for the void to go away, and for once to not feel like she may just bring down everyone around her. She'd overheard Neil telling her mother how if it hadn't been for her, maybe Billy would still be here. How she'd overheard her mother scream back that he'd been the black hole, the reason her daughter was slowly falling away from them. Max had heard everything about how she was the problem, she was the reason, or her reactions were the reason. Part of her wanted to scream out for it to stop, to pull so far into herself that maybe, just maybe, she'd disappear and no one would be hurt from her existence anymore.

She reached over the lip of her bed, picked up the shoebox of letters, and held them close before opening it, clicking on her bedside lamp. She caressed a purple envelope worn over time, still just faintly smelling of jasmine and chamomile and opened it - spreading out the letter she'd memorized years ago. 

She read the words again as they ripped into her heart - her first love, Jessica, and how she'd broken things off after her parents had found out - seen the photo booth strip where they'd kissed chastely - and told her that she couldn't be Max's friend anymore. She begged Max not to contact her, She'd written that Max was the reason her parents didn't love her anymore. Max was the reason they looked at her like she was a demon. Max didn't know why she kept the letter, just that Jessica had been the first person she loved. Then she met Lucas and now how long would it be before he too walked away from her? Before he realized she was nothing more than a walking, talking black hole who would destroy his life too.

She rubbed her chest in circles, her breathing starting to hiccup as she fought to keep her thoughts to herself. To lock them away, find the mask with her smile and lock it into place, better than to bother anyone with how pitiful she truly was. 

She closed her eyes, wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, and willed herself to sleep for a while. Lord knows tomorrow she'd have to show up to school and pretend the world wasn't a vast abyss filled with pain and suffering. “Tomorrow,” she thought to herself, “tomorrow we'll try again.” And let herself sink into a dreamless, restless sleep.

[house-of-slayterr]

Zsasz Family Headcannons:

An: I’ve had a very long, but good day, so I don’t want to write full fics rn. But I can’t just not post today that’s lame lol. More Hannibal family to come soon, and I might start a new Lost Boys series, I haven’t decided yet.

Tag: @keffirinne @flaysthings @howl-fantasies

Victor:

Big old fucking softie!!! SOFTIE ALERT!!!

Like he’s not as hard as he thinks he is

Boy listens to disco, ain’t nobody truly evil ever listen to disco! That would just be anti black of them. And if there is one thing Victor Zsasz isn’t, it’s a racist.

You’re telling me, despite not being a hero, this goober wouldn’t cut off a racists hands to prove a point? 👀 I mean think about it!!! Like he’s not gonna go around saving people, but he’s also not just going to let it slide if he sees it

Now, after that complement, he deserves a diss as well. Mother fuckers favourite ice-cream flavour is chocolate! Which is never the right answer!

Victor is an excellent dancer. Carmine totally made him take ballroom lessons as a young boy. And when he’s not at work, he’s taking Y/N out dancing! But we all know what activity that ends in 👀

Victor may think he’s invincible but he’s really not. He doesn’t know when enough and enough, but he will listen to those closet to him. If Maggie or V or Y/N begged him to take a day off and rest, he’d reluctantly do it. Victor doesn’t like feeling useless, so he wouldn’t like not working.

This applies mentally as well. He’s insane sure, but even is insane folk need a mental health day or moment sometimes. I think Vic may be physically unable to cry, but that doesn’t mean the feelings that cause tears don’t get to him. He fronts it all with rage and jokes, but I think no matter how duly, he does feel other emotions. I mean fucker loves Y/N with everything he has, he’s got a heart, he just needs to be taught how to use it.

I do think he would loose it if someone in his “family” died, I mean even with Falcone Victor went a little more off the rails then usual. But as we discussed in a previous headcannon, Victor SNAPS if his Y/N, his amazing wife, the love of his life, his soulmate, dies. And I don’t actually know if anyone, even the others could bring him back from that. Before Y/N, the thought that he’d one day fine someone to actually love him how he is, was what kept him going. Once he found that, he’s not letting it go for anything.

Back to a little more lighthearted. Victor does own colours… they’re just in his second closet. He has a work closet, and a regular closet. I still think he likes to keep it dark, but I can see him adding white, and royal, dark colours like reds, greens or purples. Just a little pop to make him feel special. And match whatever his beautiful wife is wearing, which he thinks she looks best in red (I wonder why🤨)

I think he enjoys being pampered. Both he and Basil are confident in their masculinity and don’t really let feminine things stop them. I mean neither man is one to let other people tell him what to do in the first place. They don’t care what anyone thinks about them. But I can see him taking Y/N or his girls to get mani pedis. He’d not get any colours, but he’d get his nails cleaned up and do a clear coat, or maybe a very subtle glitter. I mean man loves disco, a disco ball on his nails is the way to go!

Y/N:

She also tries to hide her feelings like Victor. But believe it or not, she’s not as convincing as she thinks she is. Even Jim has been able to pick up on some of her minor tells.

Y/N is a control freak. She doesn’t like deviating from the plan, and takes things like being on time very seriously. The only time she ever breaks script is if she’s horny, or caught up in another emotion. I think she actually feels her emotions too intensely. Her impulse control is strong, but as a learned trait. But if she’s truly caught off guard by an emotion, she’ll give into whatever urge that spurs up in here. Sad, run away. Happy, be vocal about it. Angry, kill. Horny, fuck her husband until he forgets any name other than hers.

This is why I think she was so quick to adopt that motherly role. She never wanted to be a mom, it wasn’t something she planned. But I’m the cases of Basil and Maggie, she was overrun by an emotion. Maggie was curiosity, and Basil was greed. Even with little V it was pity when taking on the role of step mother.

Y/N, unlike her husband, is not afraid to take time off. In fact sometimes she does it just to see if Oswald will get upset. She still likes to know her schedule, but when she’s in charge of the change in plans, she’s less worried about it. Wether it’s time off just because she wants to, needs a mental health day, is too injured to work and needs time to heal, or one of her “kitty’s” needs mamas help. She will gladly take that time. (Selena and Brucie are included in her kitten litter, but obviously Maggie and Basil come first)

She cares a lot about appearance, and in tern her families appearance. She totally plans family spa days to make sure everyone is looking their best at all times. But hey, she doesn’t hear anyone complaining. She totally feels like a school field trip aid, trying to wrangle all her ducklings. He husband included, he usually needs the most wrangling.

Y/N may or may not have a teeny eeney addiction problem. She’s turned to drugs and alcohol I’m the past. Because miss girl does not know how to talk about her feelings, at least not before Maggie comes along. And she’s not that great of an influence about it at first either. She pressured Maggie into joining her for drinks and drugs before. But she probably took a long hard look in the mirror after that and realised that she shouldn’t drag people into her problem. I feel like despite still struggling with it, and not really in the headset to give it up yet, she’d probably flip if any of them started to turn out like her. Like a few drinks here and there are fun, but there probably an unspoken “no hard drugs allowed by anyone in this house or your loosing your hand privileges” rule. If she need a loophole around this (if she gave into the cravings to curve her pain) she proably say something dumb like “well I didn’t bring it into the house” she knows it doesn’t comfort anyone but it makes her feel better.

She’s never gonna be a hero, her and Victor like their lives as villains. Having the title of Gotham’s most feared couple. But especially if she grows closer to Bruce, she does genuinely want a better Gotham for her children. She doesn’t want anyone to have to go through all that she’s gone through. She pretends nothing can traumatise her anymore, but those first scars in her mind burn the brightest. She grows more cautious and carful with age, not haphazardly throwing herself into danger anymore. She has proper plans in place if anything were to happen to her or Victor, she just doesn’t tell anyone about it. Can’t have them thinking she’s going soft or anything. And she does try to be a good example for her children in her own way. Sure, teaching your child the proper way to stab and disarm someone isn’t a traditional thing for a parent to pass down, but it’s practical. She’s teaching them how to survive, and hopefully thrive here in Gotham. It would kill her to see one of her little birdies shot down before her. Again, she doesn’t vocalise it though. Jim might not agree with everything she does, but she’s not a monster. She always does the “right thing”, but her version of right might just be a little different. But whatever she does, she does it with certainty and conviction. Her hearts in the right place, she just had things twisted for her from a young age.

Now while she might not vocalise her love for her family very often. She is a PROUD mama bear. Let me tell you. If any goon in Gotham is dumb enough to go after one of her kids… she will make it very known how much of a mistake that is. EVERYONE in Gotham knows very well that you don’t mess with Mama’s kids. But some of them are dumb enough to do it anyways. I could imagine when Jeremiah first joins the side of the villains, and goes after Bruce or V, she’ll give him a warning first. “You see that,” points to them “that right there is one of mine. And next time you put your grubby little hands on one of them, I will cut them off and shove them up your ass!” She doesn’t need to tell them she loves them, it more than shows in her actions.

She enjoys her dumb little domestic moments, just as much as she enjoys killing. Surprisingly, even though she doesn’t think so, she’s in her element in both.

Maggie:

I don’t think Maggie knows how to put herself first lol. Even in the beginning with Oswald, she compromised what she wanted for what she could have instead. Having Oswald as a friend was more important than her original plan. She’s willing to change her life at the drop of a hat, if it means making someone else happy. And when she does put herself first, she feels selfish and panics.

When Maggie loves, she loves intensely and she falls hard. And that’s in any kind of relationship, friends, family, lovers, even one night stands are full of passion with her. I don’t think she knows how to do anything casually. She wears her heart on her sleeve and sometimes it gets her hurt. But I think she falls in love more so with the idea of a person, instead of the person themselves. She ignores so many red flags because of this, because she craves the attention and the warmth love gives her.

I haven’t mentioned it in a while, but Maggie does have her Bachelors in Botany. She is a professional at her job. Her little flower shop adventures aren’t just a means to an end job. She truly enjoys it and feels at home when surrounded by plants. I think she really likes nature in general. She really loves animals but I don’t think she would ever take a pet for herself. She thinks it’s best to admire from afar.

Maggie fully encourages V’s education. She’s the one that drops the girl off at school everyday, and picks her up from Bruce’s house at the end of her shift. Maggie is the one Victor would give custody’s too if anything happened to him, cause he knows V will be in good hands. I can see her staying up late and helping V with homework.

I think Maggie seeks great comfort in her family. She probably ‘borrows’ an item from of them because it smells like them. Like stealing Basil’s hoodies, Y/N’s dresses, V’s beanie or Victor’s knife holster. Sometimes she wishes she had something of Jim’s, but she’s not creepy like Vic and wouldn’t take something without him knowing.

V:

My girl is gay and she has it fucking bad. Of course, she doesn’t really know that’s what it is at first. She never expected her first ever crush to be on Selena Kyle. And Maggie is the one she’d go to to talk about it. Y/N and her dad aren’t going to be sensitive about it, and she’s a sensitive girl. Maggie helped her understand what she was feeling, and couched her on what to do next.

V is also really fucking smart. Like she’s constantly reading something new. Despite never having gone to a proper school, she was able to teach herself most things. Growing up on the streets of Gotham, you had to be smart. Anything less as an immediate death sentence. She probably used to break into the library and borrow their computers to learn more.

She doesn’t talk much unless provoked. She grew used to be all on her own, so it’s strange for her to grow used to this new full family. She never even expected her dad to except her, and now she had more family then she knew what to do with. But that’s not a bad thing, she can just be a little sheltered is all. Beside, what teen wants to talk about their feelings?

V sees violence for what it is. Violence born out of necessity and survival doesn’t bother her. But she’s not as crazy as her father. She tries to minimise the damage she does unless she’s deemed someone as “unsavable” in which case she won’t hesitate. Sure, maybe it’s playing god, but she’s got time to mellow out.

She’s also not immune to emotions, like at all. Poor girl is a raging hormonal mess. She lashes out, and screams until her lungs are dry. Normal teenage shit. Except normal I’m Gotham is normal everywhere else. She doesn’t feel guilt for killing out of survival, but she may express regret for killing out of anger. She doesn’t like being angry, or the things it makes her do.

She dreams of one day getting out of Gotham. Experiencing somewhere new, somewhere brighter. It’s what drives her everyday, knowing she’s working toward a better future for herself. She’ll weasel her way into Bruce’s private school so she can receive the best possible education. And by “weasels” I mean Y/N and Victor having a little “chat” with the principal. Victor thought her want to go to school was stupid, but Y/N supported it fully.

Basil:

Aromantic/Asexual, why, because I said so and we need more representation. I mean yes, there was love and reproduction on his planet, but even back then, he didn’t really understand it. Out of all of them, Basil is the one that genuinely does not feel him emotions. His are probably the most stunted. There’s not really a facade for him to drop, he doesn’t pretend to be anyone unless the mission directly calls for it.

I mean why would a perfectly stable (at least from an outside view) fine young gentlemen, give up his perfectly fine life in National City with his family, to go love with a Villain from Gotham? Of course, no one from National City knows that Y/N is like one of the top villains. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. He grew sick of pretending back home with his sister, and while of course he would come running if his sisters life was in risk, he has no intentions of ever calling that place his home. Kara fit in, he didn’t. She loved it there, he didn’t. The choice was simplex

Perhaps that’s why he took to Maggie so fast. Replace one older sister with another. And Maggie was much more “down to earth” both literally and figuratively. Kara was naive and lived with her head in the clouds, Maggie has a little more reality ground into her. But some parts of her remind him of his sister, like her almost always cheerful persona, her willingness to help, and the way she’s the only one who can make him feel like a person. Maggie makes him feel human, which at first scared him, but the longer he spent around her, the slightly less disdain he had for their kind. Maggie makes him see the good in humanity; but it a way that was less Disney Princess than Kara. Maggie’s optimism was palatable and contagious.

His relationship with Y/N isn’t the healthiest one. It borders on almost Stock Holm syndrome at first. He blindly fallows orders and would do anything without question. He respects her greatly; as she was the first person to make him feel something other than boredom for the first time in his life. She made life exciting and he craved that little bit of adrenaline he was capable of experiencing. Y/N is sort of like an addiction. But it mellows out as he grows more in touch with his emotions, and their relationship becomes a little less formal.

I’ve stated it before, but Basil doesn’t really get along that well with Vic. He’s indifferent to most people, but he actually dislikes Victor and Jim. Why you might ask? Because they’re going after his girls. Yes HIS girls, that is how he sees them. It’s not jealousy though, there’s nothing to be jealous of. He simply doesn’t think they’re good enough. Victor is unpredictable, brash and reactive, often times getting Y/N hurt either emotionally or physically. Basil also thinks Victor to be stupid (which he is not, Victor just doesn’t really share his knowledge with anyone. He liked being seen as the goofy assassin) Basil once tried to kill Victor when Y/N got seriously hurt (of course Victor wasn’t taking it lightly either, he was probably pissed at himself already) and only Y/N herself was able to stop him. Since then he can be Civil for her sake, but he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Victor the second something he did for her killed.

Basil is also capable of being Civil with Jim. I mean he was able to convince Oliver Queen that he was a friend, how hard would it be to feign an acquaintanceship with the cop? But unlike with Victor where he’s more likely to give the man the silent treatment, he is vocal when Jim does something he doesn’t approve of. Y/N is grown, she can protect herself, but despite Maggie being almost three years older than him, he most definitely views her like a child. And he’s seen first hand how fragile she is. He doesn’t appreciate the Detective playing with Maggie’s emotions. Y/N probably had to remind him sometimes that Maggie is infact a big girl and can handle herself. But even she babies the girl sometimes, so who is she to judge. Maggie’s fiercely overprotective of the two of them.

Now when V comes along… oh dear god. My boy is a MESS. That’s a child! That’s a literal CHILD!!!! His own little sister 🥺. If Maggie thought he was overbearing with her, Lord did she underestimate him. He is fucking putty in V’s hands. Anything the girl wants, she gets. He can’t say no to her. I mean do you blame him? She bats her eyes and his brain just shuts off. He doesn’t like touch much, but Maggie and V are the only two he seeks that sort of comfort with. Yeah, Y/N is allowed to touch him, but that’s not really the nature of their relationship. Maggie almost always initiates touch with him. But with V, he just picks her up all the time. He keeps her close whenever he can cause he likes having her around.

Basil cares as little about Oliver’s team as he does about his sisters team in the DEO. He’ll come if they really need him, but his top priority is protecting immediate family. Sure would Maggie be devastated if he let Oliver or Thea die? Of course, but that didn’t matter, because she would be safe, and he could be there to console her. He tries not to have to visit National city or Star City much because faking all the time got tiring.

I don’t think this man has ever actually smiled in his entire life. Yeah he can be a cocky shit, and besides a frown, a smirk is the only other thing that’s graces his face. But he doesn’t smile. Now that doesn’t mean he’s not happy; he just doesn’t know hot to convey that. But his happiness is reserved for family, and they’re able to read him just fine.

Uncle Harvey:

Totally doesn’t accidentally blame himself for Y/N addiction problem. He was supposed to be the one “good” constant in her life. He arrested the girl enough times, that she began to jokingly refer to him as “Uncle Harvey” and that’s sort of how their relationship went. He was willing to turn the other way on somethings as long as she never took things too far. The couple of times she’d shown up at his apartment and needed a place to stay, sure he was always nice to her, but there were always empty bottles around. I’m pretty sure it’s cannon in show he has an alcohol problem. Harvey wasn’t a saint, but he at least tried to help Gotham.

I high key get Dad vibes from him. I think Harvey originally wanted children, but something went wrong for him. The way he looked at Scottie in that one episode, I could just tell he wanted to start a family with her. And he grew Bitter and pessimistic after things fell apart and he fell more into his bad habits. Probably convincing himself he didn’t deserve that family he had in his head anymore. So when Maggie came around and actually wanted to spend time with him, he was annoyed at first. But it grew on him. And he saw the same thing in Jim when he looked at Bruce and Selena. He’s got his own little unconventional family now. Jim, his partner in crime, Y/N, Maggie and Bruce. He doesn’t really interact with V or Basil much, and he avoid Victor at all costs! Selena isn’t much of a fan of his either. But he already has his hands full.

Harvey shows up when things are important. Maggie’s goes back to school and is graduating? He’ll be there. Y/N is having a mental breakdown and has no one else to turn to, he’s all ears. Bruce throws one of his Gala’s Harvey is always on time. He’s supportive when they’re doing well, and a little more lenient than Jim when they fuck up. A few slaps on the wrist never hurt anybody right? Harvey wasn’t perfect, why should he expect them to be? He’s been in Gotham longer than the Young Detective and doesn’t have his same blind optimism. He understands there can never be no crime in Gotham City, that’s simply not how things work.

An: yea I included Harvey, I love him and I don’t include him enough in stuff. So deal with it 😈

[demoiselettes]

May i participate in the match up?

Name: Ruby

Appearance: Short black hair that's a wolfcut, hazel eyes, reddish lips, dark skintone, 5'3

Age: 14

likes: rain, books, dresses and suits, pancakes and jewelry!

Dislikes: thunder, loud noises, small spaces

Favorite color: Purple, red and yellow<3

Personality: I'm a bright person that tends to hide my anger issues but also get anxious very easily, i have really wide mind thats filled with so much nonsense, im also very curious and can be distracted easily,

My zodiac sign is capricorn, im an enfp, type 4 and an extrovert:)

extra information: my class says i tend to befriend evryone in the classroom uninteonally and they say im very "street smart" ( i think theyre lying )

I hope this isnt too much😅

Eventide

I match you with Genya Shinazugawa!

•Congratulations, you got matched with the literal simp! Zenitsu could never

•No, seriously, he’s enamored with you, he’ll literally fight(or eat) demons for you

•You’re quite..short compared to him, and though he finds it adorable he never teases you about it because he doesn’t want you to feel insecure about your height<3

•…okay maybe he very subtly and shakily teases you like asking you if you need help to reach something and all, but he’d be damned if you found out he’s trying to tease you

•He has quite a lot of trouble speaking to you, and you often gotta wonder why tf his face is all red whenever you’re around

•It’s like that one scenario with Mitsuri during the swordsmith village arc. You can be talking to him about whatever and poor boi will just be short-circuiting because the love of his life is—addressing him???

•He adores your eyes and your skin tone and your hair and your— well, everything. he sort finds you to be pretty in an ethereal way and i cannot tell you the amount of times you’ve caught him staring.

•When you do catch him staring, he’ll get an awful lot grumpy and won’t speak to you for the rest of the day

•God help anyone who dares to throw an insult your way they probably won’t be seeing the light of day again

•Sanemi is like, so tired of witnessing the puppy love emanating from you both akfbskrben

•He really wants to play with your hair, but you don’t know that. Because he’ll never tell you out of sheer embarrassment.

•Also.,,, he really wants to kiss you. but you didn’t hear it from me okay? Everytime his mind drifts to your lips, he gives himself a slap.

•During rainy days, you’ll find him at your doorstep, with watermelon and your favorite snacks, ready to cuddle although he’ll just make up a half assed excuse like ‘you’re gonna piss yourself alone if you hear a bout of thunder’

•But it’s really an excuse to cuddle you without.. y’know, cuddling you? 😭

•If you guys are hanging out and someone makes even the slightest loud sound and you flinch or show any sign of discomfort he’ll glare at them until they say sorry or something

•With Gyomei’s help, he was able to get you a couple of books! He tried to see which genre you like and he’ll curate the books he gives you according to that! He also gave you a bracelet or beads him and Gyomei worked their butts off to make

•Ya like jazz purple? He’ll never take off his yukata.

•Your personality reminds him somewhat of his older brother’s, save for the fact that the wind pillar isn’t exactly..bright.

•He panics so much when you get anxious. He isn’t the best at comforting or sorting out emotions, so his solutions is really just.. violence. if it’s a person who made you anxious.

•But if he notices you growing uncomfortable of his methods, he’ll resort to simply threatening them.

•If it has nothing to do with someone, but rather it’s a bad day for you, he’ll silently sit by your side ready to hear you rant or vent if you need. Otherwise he’ll awkwardly pat your back with a red face.

•He can hear you talk about your interests for hours. he basically drinks in your words.

•Compared to you, Genya isn’t very extroverted. He isn’t the best at making friends and neither does he really want to make friends, but he’ll try to make himself more outgoing for your sake! He won’t hold you back, just remind him to take is slow and easy

•You’re gonna go around befriending people and Genya’ll just trail behind like a bodyguard

•Scary guard dog privileges

•Since he grew up on the poorer side and didn’t exactly venture out into cities too much, he likes to learn a lot from your experiences!

•Though i can’t exactly tell if he’s learning or just- staring at you.

•The simp.

[wil-is-done]

Out of Season

Summary: Dipper has transformed the Mystery Shack into a haunted house for one of his projects. Nothing wrong with it, par for the course when it comes to Dipper, except for the fact that he’s doing it in the middle of May.

Word Count: 1.225

-

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Even before entering the clearing, Norman could already see several things wrong with the Shack. One, the jack-o-lantern pumpkins everywhere. Two, the new black and sinister purple paintjob. Three, the tormented wails and bloodcurdling shrieks coming from the windows. Four, the dark clouds hovering ominously above the building, shooting off lightning and howling winds, in an otherwise clear summer sky. And five, the ‘S’ in ‘Shack’ was back where it’s supposed to be.

Norman glanced to the side. “What am I looking at?”

“Dipper’s newest project,” replied Mabel. “Converting the Mystery Shack into a haunted house that could literally scare you to death.”

Huh. The first part sounded more like something Stan would come up with, but the second part had Dipper written all over it.

“And you and I get to be the first ones to experience it!”

“But it’s May.” And it’s not even close to Summerween.

“So it’s a test run?” Mabel shrugged. “And I guess that makes us his guinea pigs.”

Norman took another look at the transformed Shack, and sighed. “I feel like I should be mad at him.”

“But you don’t because you love him too much?” Mabel didn’t hold back with that cheeky smile.

“I also have a job that I love. He knows I should be doing that right now.” Norman sent a pointed stare at the girl beside him. “You do too.” 

Mabel made a weird, high-pitched noise. “It shouldn’t take that long. What’s the usual haunted house length, ten minutes?” Her exaggerated shrug didn’t fool anybody - there was an ulterior motive here. “Look, the way I see it, we do Dipper a favor and we get a free haunted house walk! You love haunted houses!”

Norman let the stare last for three more seconds before letting up. If it’s Mabel, it couldn’t possibly be anything too bad. Maybe.

“He got permission from Soos, right?”

“‘Course he did. He’s mad, not rude.”

Norman sighed.

“Alright, this actually looks pretty cool. Let’s do it.”

“Right behind ya!”

The front door opened slowly, accompanied with the appropriate high pitched, creaking whine, leading into a dark corridor. Norman took the tentative first steps past the threshold into the structure. He was not at all surprised when a burst of wind picked up, and the door behind him slammed shut, plunging him into near-total darkness. Alone, he found out, as he spun around and saw that Mabel was not with him. Not surprised, and not quite disappointed either.

“Yep.”

Candles burst to life by themselves from the corners of the room - wait, room? - bathing it in dim, eerie green. The wooden door behind Norman was no more, replaced with a solid wall, with the only exit from this room being a hallway shrouded in shadows. He couldn’t hold back a smile. A subtle teleportation spell, followed by a simple fire spell. Leave it to Dipper to infuse real magic into a hokey attraction. 

“GREETINGS, O FOOLISH, MISGUIDED SOUL.”

A booming voice rumbled, shaking the entire room, striking fear into Norman’s very core. A booming voice that, despite being heavily altered and modulated beyond recognition and enhanced with fear-inducing enchantments, Norman still recognized belonged to Dipper.

“YOU HAVE BREACHED UPON MY DOMAIN. IT IS A REALM OF DARKNESS AND NIGHTMARES. A REALM WHERE LIGHT COWERS AND THE DEAD DO NOT REST. WHATEVER MADDENED INTENT LED YOU TO THIS PLACE NO LONGER MATTER. DOOM IS ALL THAT AWAITS ALL WHO VENTURE HERE.”

Norman couldn’t keep himself from grinning. This was the kind of cheesy shit that he loved.

Indecipherable runes revealed themselves, lining the walls of the shrouded corridor, bathing it in a sickly green glow. 

“PROCEED THROUGH THE THRESHHOLD, FOOLISH SOUL… TO A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH.”

Norman clasped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. “Don’t mind if I do.”

With reckless abandon, Norman entered the corridor with a skip in his step.

And damn did Dipper not disappoint. 

First, the corridor opened up to a forest of decaying corpses, hanging by their necks by miles upon miles of barbed wire. Halfway through, the corpses fell to the ground, shuddered to life, and started chasing after Norman. He eluded them all and dove into an open mausoleum with a hearty chuckle. What a delightful start.

But the floor of the mausoleum suddenly collapsed, sending Norman plummeting into the abyss. When his bearings returned, he found himself tangled in a web of black silk. Apparently he had landed in a nest of horrible, mutated spider-leech hybrids, and the swarm was rapidly converging upon him. Using a piece of debris and a lit candle that just so happened to be conveniently within reach, Norman escaped, scurrying into a network of tunnels. Now that was delightfully harrowing.

He emerged from the tunnels into what seemed to be a ruined alien city, where ruthless scavengers scour the wasteland, willing to do anything to survive. A deadly cat and mouse game ensued, Norman darting in and out of the shadows of fallen skyscrapers. He eventually stumbled upon a haven of survivors who hadn’t given in to their basic instincts. He listened to their plight, helped them secure a foothold to rebuilding their civilization, and procured a method to get off-planet. He’s beginning to think some kind of time perception-altering enchantment was in place here. This was starting to feel a lot longer than ten minutes.

And the ride continued on. He ran afoul of a storm of vengeful specters. He was chased by a rake-wielding serial killer. He faced off against one of the Horsemen. He caught a glimpse of Hell itself. It was disturbing. It was expansive. It was captivating. It got way too pandering and out-of-focus, if he was being perfectly honest. But above all, it was fun. Terrifyingly, exhilaratingly fun.

Now, after diving bodily into a witch’s cauldron, Norman was dropped, ass-first, into what seemed to be a nondescript dark room. Brushing himself off and taking a closer look around, Norman was certain this room used to be the Shack’s spare bedroom. His cheeks grew warm, despite himself, as a rather fond memory surfaced, of his first kiss with Dipper in this very room.

A sudden hiss sent Norman into high alert. His guard didn’t drop even when he saw it was only caused by a pedestal rising at the center of the room. He approached, slowly, and spotted a black box on top of the pedestal, small enough to fit in his palm.

Norman snatched up the box and immediately braced. No crumbling ceiling. No hail of arrows. No swarm of fire ants. Curious.

The box was not secured with a lock, Norman realized, so he pried it open. He expected an ancient key, a cursed idol, or an enchanted talisman. What he got was a simple, yet beautiful, silver ring.

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

A flash of light from behind him sent Norman into high alert once again. He spun in place, ready for anything, yet was still unprepared, caught off guard by the sight before him. Dressed in gaudy, edgy, high-collared vampiric robes, kneeling on one knee, and smiling gently up at him, was his beloved Dipper.

Norman blinked. And gasped. 

Everything suddenly clicked. The extravagant presentation. The attractions blatantly pandering to his tastes. The ring. Of course Dipper would pull something like this.

“Norman… will you-?”

“Yes!”

-

This fic was commissioned by @/orbmanson7, who wanted some cute Parapines moment in Halloween. Can’t keep myself from making fun of the fact that you asked for this in the middle of May, sorry about that. Sorry also for shoehorning in my ‘Dipper gets crazy good at magic when he’s older’ headcanon. Hope you still like it though! Hell, hope all of y’all liked it, it’s pretty fun to do.

[emiavermilion]

Boruto character design that wasn't made by kishimoto is just.... Disappointing. I can see Ikemoto has a liking to punk / old fashioned style. The design alone is still tolerable but the colours combination ... ughh. It may be his style but those dull, contrasting colours really feel out of place.

Delta outfit colors are just chaotic. Yellow + dark green + pink + black + white. Too much colours that doesn't harmonize!

look at Code, for a cyborg that supposed to use advenced tech, he wears something like a vampire looking outfit

Not enough with Sumire, here comes Eida, more ripped off version of Hinata. Sure, Hinata don't own the haircut but Sumire uses purple colour, Hinata's signature colour! While Eida dark blue hair is very similar with Hinata hair colour. They could've pick other colours, right? And those ornaments on Eida pants tho.... Those ornaments make her and Daemon like a Christmas tree. Maybe I'm too harsh but their fashion doesn't fit the ninja universe

Meanwhile the anime characters has super bright color and monotonous. Making boruto looks like kindergarten anime

Team 15 (excluding Hanabi) is a perfect example of monotonous colours. Their design alone is ok but the colours chosen could have been better. Each of them is dominated by one colour with different hue.

I'm fully aware making good character design is never easy but the way I see boruto characters, they looks unfinished. It's kinda you're still in the design process but then gave up midway.

[narcoticv3nus]

A Kiss Left of You ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

summary: simon and you, introduced by mutual friends in the military, enjoy a heartfelt moment outside a bar. you engage in playful banter, and despite knowing you will soon part ways, you express genuine affection for each other. tags/trigger warnings: f!reader, sfw, reader is not from the uk, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, soap makes an appearance, simon is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, self-indulgent, hints at reader being autistic wc: 3.7k

a/n: this is a very old wip. i may or may not make this into a series. anyway, this is just a short collection of drabbles between simon and you. any constructive criticism is highly encouraged. enjoy!

pt. 1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

Breathing deeply, Simon admires the evening scenery as the last rays of the Sun disappear beyond the horizon. Hues of orange once highlighted it, but now it has turned into a deep shade of blue. Exhaling, a puff of smoke escapes his lips as he taps the lingering ashes along the railing. He stands just outside a dingy bar, its label, "Velvet Verve," gleaming brightly, casting Simon underneath its neon purple glow.

The cool night air chills Simon's lungs as he pulls deeply on his cigarette. His dark brown eyes follow the specks of snowfall as they dance through the air. As the soft flakes of snow drift by, Simon remains still and unbothered; he can appreciate a good view, and the evening air offers him that chance. Taking deep breaths, he savors the wind's chill against his skin and the scent of the air, which has started to take on a crisp note.

It's fucking freezing. You think to yourself as you step outside, feeling tipsy as you shiver against the wind's icy gust. There are specks of snow twirling downwards just in front of you, teasing you and your distaste for the weather.

Looking to your left, you spot Simon leaning against the railing as he blows out puffs of gray smoke. His signature skull balaclava is pushed past his lips, resting on his crooked nose. He seems lost in thought, yet he somehow always remains alert.

The man was large, much larger than you by far. He was slightly shy from 6'3 with an even more impressive frame. His right forearm consisted of a sleeve of tattoos in swirling black ink. His voice was deep and smoky, yet he rarely raised his voice (or let alone speak). He didn't come off as shy; he just seemed to prefer his company to others—which you could relate to. He was very aloof and a bit socially unskilled in his blunt and impolite nature, but underneath it all, you could tell he was a good man. He has this element to him that no one seemed to be able to cross, like how he was now: secluded and lost in his mind. You wondered what he could be thinking of.

A familiar scent of perfume catches his attention, and upon realizing it's you, Simon flicks his cigarette over the railing and turns his attention to you. The slight smile on his features turns into a more visible grin when he notices your intoxicated state. Simon watches you shiver as chills make their way through your body, your breath forming in front of you as you glance up at him. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he watches you momentarily before finally speaking up. "Aren't ya’ supposed t'be drinkin' inside, or did they cut ya’ off?"

Giggling, you made your way over to where he was standing, the heels of your boots clicking against the hard wooden tile. You could feel the effects of the alcohol warm your belly, leaving your brain fuzzy. Keeping a respectful distance, you stand before him, assessing him thoughtfully.

Simon was very different from many of the men you'd met, yet so stereotypical at the same time. He was mysterious, an intangible force of nature that had always piqued your curiosity. However, you never let yourself wander too close. Unlike many others, you weren't scared of the man. He was intimidating, sure, but never had you felt genuine fear in his presence. Maybe if you were one of his soldiers, or god forbid one of his enemies, you'd think differently. And yet, Simon never gave you any reason to fear him; if anything, it was safe to say you felt very protected under his watch.

You’d met under curious circumstances. Kyle Garrick, a buddy of yours, was stationed in northeast Britain while you were vacationing. After you had met at a bar to reminisce about your past, he introduced you to many of his army buddies. One of them was his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, who most of them referred to as "Ghost." He's always been some enigma, ever since the start. He always sported his typical skull balaclava, which you had yet to see him without, and only pulled up past his nose to take a swig of bourbon or smoke a cigarette.

"Just needed some air." You smiled, watching as your breath formed into wisps of condensation in the crisp, navy-blue sky.

Simon's lips curl into a smirk at the sound of your voice. "Careful there." He gently warns as you stumble, his voice still deep but with a hint of amusement. He reaches forward to steady you, only to stop just before he touches you. His eyes meet yours, and Simon feels the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you." You mumble, gazing up into his brown eyes, the top of his face hidden behind his mask.

"Aren't you cold?" You asks curiously, dipping your head to the side with a grin. Your voice had a hint of teasing mixed in with genuine concern.

Simon remains quiet for a moment before finally responding. "M’ fine." He answers coolly, turning his gaze back out into the evening sky. He leans over, the cool winter breeze brushing past his skin. His expression is genuine as he offers a gentle smile. "But you," he glances back over your shoulder at the bar, "maybe we ‘oughta get ya’ back inside."

"But it's so loud in there," you whine, leaning against the wood. "Need a minute."

The corner of Simon's lips curls up in a half-grin as he watches you. "I di'n't know ya’ can't handle yer alcohol." He murmurs, teasing once again.

"I can!" You protest with a giggle. "I'm just a bit tipsy."

"Jus’ a bit?" Simon echoes, chuckling softly to himself.

"Mmm…” you hum, half-acknowledging him. You close your eyes, embracing the moment as the cold nips at your nose. Out in the distance, a lamp post flickers off and on again, its warm yellow light blinking in contrast to the melancholic blue-and-white atmosphere.

Simon shakes his head internally, wondering when he allowed himself to babysit whining drunk girls stumbling out of bars.

He watches you for a long moment as your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward further. His face takes on a slight hint of concern for a second before he returns to his usual expressionless state. His eyes follow the lamp pole, his thoughts drifting off somewhere far from here. The world seemed to come to a standstill as he watched a million different scenarios in his head. His mind wandered between thoughts of the both of you perched like two birds in the frigid air and going your separate ways like strangers passing each other in the night.

A sudden gust of wind sends the snow swirling around the two of you again, and Simon turns towards you. His eyes take in your appearance, noticing how the cold seems to dig its icy, unforgiving claws into you. He takes in every detail, from the slope of your nose to the slight quiver in your bottom lip. He takes note of the way you huddle yourself inside your coat.

"S'bit nippy, innit’?” He asks, his voice low and warm, a welcomed ironicity. He keeps his eyes on the drifting snowfall, allowing you to meet his gaze at your own pace.

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." You admit sheepishly, grinning up at him as you burrow yourself further into the warmth of your furry coat.

Simon can't help but raise an eyebrow at this. "I take it, it's warm where yer from?" He asks in a puzzled tone, and though he's trying to keep his voice neutral, his curiosity gets the better of him.

You nod animatedly, a small smile hidden underneath the jacket.

A small laugh escapes Simon as his mouth curves into a small smile. His tongue traces along the top row of his front teeth as he watches the small grin form beneath the fur of your coat. A silent moment passes between you before he finally speaks.

“Mus’ be nice.” He murmurs, his voice still maintaining an even tone despite his body language giving way to a more keen and interested one.

You shrug your shoulders with a heave, followed by a long sigh. "Until it was summer," you mumble dramatically. "unbearable."

"So, it's either too 'ot or too cold wit’ ya’.” He observes softly, and something about the fact that he's paying so much attention to this seemingly dull conversation baffles him.

You grin, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, eyes wide and glowing. "Pretty much," you murmur, your smile toothy.

The corners of his lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes follow your mouth for a moment before shifting back to your eyes again. The grin spreads across his face, almost like a blush, as he stares back at you. His expression lightens further as your eyes meet, and it is as if he feels something stir deep inside him when he looks at you.

You breathe a short laugh through your nose, taking in his expression. "I should probably get going soon.", you acknowledge, closing your heavy eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Aye, prob'ly." He murmurs, still grinning. Simon's thoughts return to a thousand scenarios as his eyes travel around you momentarily. There's no doubt that he feels something soft make its way inside him, something he hasn't felt in a while. He shifts his weight, his body leaning against the wooden railing as he turns his head toward the bar again, letting out a slow breath.

"Think you could give me a ride?" you ask, leaning into his personal space.

His expression shifts quickly, his heart racing at your playful suggestion. He clears his throat before glancing back at you, his face momentarily caught off guard by your closeness. His eyes meet yours, and he can't help but feel a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's almost as if his body is slowly reacting to yours, the chemistry of a connection.

"Aye, dun't see why not,” he murmurs, his tone shifting slightly more severe with his agreement.

"Thanks! You're the best." You shoot him a playful wink before turning back to look out towards the flickering lamppost, yet refuse to put the space back between you.

"Hmph..." Simon's voice comes out with a tinge of a teasing hilt, and he feels just the right amount of comfort with this closeness between you. Another gust of wind rushes by, sending snowflakes into the air again; he watches as they make a home on your head and shoulders.

"Come on, yer gonna freeze out here." He murmurs, not wanting to let you linger in the frigid cold much longer. He finally shifts his weight off the rail and paces towards the parking lot.

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the rail to follow closely behind him. "I think I'm starting to get used to it now." You chirp from behind him, not even attempting to keep up.

“Us'd to what?” He forgets about your pointless conversation as he turns back, watching you and laughing softly at the image of your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“The cold,” you answer, humming to yourself. Your eyes stay closed as you stuff your hands into your coat pockets.

The parking lot is a short distance away, and Simon's steps slow as you approach his truck. He opens up the passenger side door for you, waving you over.

You giggle, strolling towards him with an attempt at grace. "Thank you, Lieutenant." you grin, saluting him with the wrong hand before clambering inside.

He shuts the door with an unimpressed shake of his head.

“You smoke?” Ghost asks, offering you the cigarette between his fingers.

“Not those cancer sticks.” You turn your nose up in disgust, not caring if you offended him. To your surprise, he shrugs before placing it between his lips.

He smirked as the cigarette hung from his mouth, not seeming to mind your aversion towards them. You’ve always been straightforward, preferring to precisely say what you’re feeling or thinking rather than hiding it behind politeness or social conventions. He knows that your tendency to be so direct can sometimes rub people the wrong way. But this is just one of the many things he finds refreshing about you. He leans back against the wall with a sigh and slightly glances at you before saying, “Does it botha’ y’ then?” He mumbles in between a drag.

You take a moment to consider his words before shaking your head. "No, not really. You're a grown man; you can do whatever you want." You shrug, appreciating how he turns his head away from you to blow the smoke from his nose.

"Mmhm..." he mutters, nodding in understanding but looking you over when you aren’t paying attention to him. Your relaxed attitude appeals to him, and he grows more comfortable around you.

He watches, his eyes drifting up and down your body as he takes in your appearance, his gaze landing on your exposed neck. It's a rather tempting sight, as the smooth skin of your throat is only made more attractive by how you lean forward while talking. He watches you intently as you form words with your mouth; your accent, which he used to find unusual, now strikes a chord within him—a voice he can only describe as heavenly.

"Ghost?" You ask, turning to look up at him. Confusion is written on your face when he stays silent after you ask him a question.

He snaps out of his reverie, his body twitching as he realizes you’re now looking at him. A slight smirk flashes across his face as he sees the perplexed expression on your face, as he had been so caught up in his admiration of you that Simon hadn't even realized he was supposed to be paying attention. "Sorry, luv," he says softly, his voice slightly teasing as he maintains his gaze on you. "Wot were ya’ sayin’?"

“Here, try some o' this.” Commands John, otherwise known as “Soap,” as he slides you a glass of tequila. For the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to consist of Kyle’s task force forcing you to try their taste in alcoholic beverages. A vodka-lime wasn’t impressive according to their standards.

“Why do I have to try out every single one of your stupid ‘manly’ drinks?” You grumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol as you took a quick sip of his drink.

“Is tha' tequila?” Ghost scoffs as he appears in your peripheral vision, causing you to cough and sputter in surprise.

“Why do you always do that?” You complain, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips as John laughs at your misfortune.

Ghost’s eyes widen in what either looks to be humor or surprise—probably both.

“Gettin’ the lass tae expand her horizons,” John explains after collecting himself.

“You sound like an alcoholic,” you mumble, your face warm in embarrassment.

“Why tequila?” Ghost interrupts, still seemingly confused by John’s choice of beverage.

“Whae naht?” The scot shrugs, taking a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows. You glance back and forth between the two men, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“Ya,’ tryna kill her, mate?” Ghost snorts in sarcasm, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, but John’s eyes flicker back and forth between you two knowingly. You hide your shame behind another long sip.

“Are you?” You mutter, staring out the window as silence fills the air.

“Wot?”

John’s laugh rings loud as your face sets up in a blaze.

“Do you like it?” You inquire with anticipation, watching him take a bite of the cultural dish you had made for him to try. You asked him to stop by your temporary place so you could cook him something other than British cuisine. He seemed a bit irked but agreed nonetheless.

“S’ alright.” He mumbles after swallowing, refusing to meet your eyes as he takes another bite.

“You like it, c’mon.” You giggle, poking his bicep, which he swats away, simultaneously shooting you an annoyed glare.

“I said it’s alright.” He reaffirms, chewing slowly. “S’ a bit spicy.” He comments in a neutral tone, but you assume it was supposed to be his form of constructional criticism.

“Yeah, well, everything is spicy to you people.”

He rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh.

“You could’ve just said ‘thank you.’” You sass, hands on your hips.

“I’d 'ave t'be thankful for it first.”

You swat him in the arm this time. He chuckles in response.

Simon grunts as he slams his fist into the black fabric of the boxing bag. The thick material of his gloves protects his fists, but he can almost picture the bruises and cuts decorating his knuckles as he bashes the face in of that smug-looking private.

Simon had nothing against the man—personally speaking anyway—yet he still couldn’t get over how he looked at you. How he danced with you, twirling you around like some bloke, tripping over his feet and his words to impress you.

And you just smiled and laughed, batting your pretty eyes up at him with a sweet smile—the same way you do with Simon.

Simon furrows his eyebrows, pulling his face into a deep frown. He clenches his fists a little tighter as the images of the man dancing with you and making a fool of himself flash through his mind. Simon can also clearly see how you responded to his advances in those images: your saccharine smiles and bashful glances, your symphony of laughs that could bring a choir of angels to shame. He grits his teeth and raises his fist to strike the bag again; his jealousy is getting the better of him.

The more he seethes, the more those memories twist into something else entirely. He can't help but imagine the way the man must have touched you, maybe even kissing you or pulling you into his arms—holding you close. The thought of that makes him even more furious, as he's now thinking about him putting his hands on you in a way that only he is supposed to—or would if only he just asked.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side as you sit across from Simon in a booth, enjoying the meal he had gotten for you both.

He stops eating for a moment, his busy thoughts halting a little as he hears your voice hit his ears, concerned with a hint of indignation. He hesitates for a second before answering you, not wanting to admit that he's felt a little insecure about his relationship with you. "Nothin’," he gruffs softly, forcing disinterest as he looks at you. "Why?”

You run your tongue over your front teeth as you assess him before looking past his shoulder in thought.

"Is it because I have to leave soon?" You ask softly, deciding to poke at your food with your fork to remain casual.

The mention of your departure only makes his frustration grow even worse, as the thought of you not being here with him brings forth an uncomfortable hollow feeling deep in his chest. "No," he mutters softly, but his response carries a hint of irritation because he believes you have seen through him too quickly. "I jus’...'ave some things on my mind."

He stares at you silently for a moment before looking away and grunting. He can't help but feel slightly guilty for not wanting to be honest with you. Especially when he knows you’ve always been upfront with him, and now he's keeping secrets from you even though there's no real reason for him to. The guilt compels him to consider admitting a little more, but he realizes that doing so would mean ripping back the layers he’s built up around himself for so long. So instead, he says, "It's nowt important."

"Then stop acting so weird."

You sigh, swallowing your frustration. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me." You promise with an empathetic smile.

He sighs and looks away again, feeling even more shameful now that he has to look into your pitful expression after lying straight to it. Simon has been so busy hiding his insecurities that he's lost track of how he’s been treating you, and now Simon realizes that he needs to open up, or else you’ll probably start feeling as if he's abandoning you. "Yeah..." he mutters, shaking his head slightly in disappointment with himself. "I know, m'sorry...I'll be fine."

You soak in the awkward, silent tension for a few more moments, trying to make peace with it.

"Y'know..." you begin tapping his leg under the table with your foot to get his attention. "I'm gonna miss you too." You confess with a bittersweet smile.

His expression softens just a bit, his gaze shifts to make eye contact with you for the first time in a while, and upon seeing your sweet and somewhat sad smile, his discomfort shifts towards a bittersweet tenderness rather than the frustration and resentment he felt before.

"Y'will?" he asks softly, a small smile forming on his lips as he looks away almost immediately, his heart now fluttering at the thought of someone as kind and gentle as you, missing someone as cruel and fucked up as him.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, your eyelids lowering as you admire him with a strange fondness. “But I’m glad—I’m happy I got to meet you, to miss you.” You smile, abandoning your attention on everything else and redirecting it towards him.

“I’d rather miss you every day than not have gotten to meet you at all.”

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