#that messed with the healing process quite a bit

[hoseoksluna]

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it. 

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too. 

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it. 

He doesn’t think you could. 

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts. 

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it. 

You don’t say anything. 

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately. 

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery. 

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly. 

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head. 

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting. 

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.” 

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view. 

Hobi. 

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air. 

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back. 

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you. 

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery. 

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red. 

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage. 

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way. 

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one. 

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you. 

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched. 

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead. 

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip. 

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.” 

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel. 

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name. 

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room. 

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.” 

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin. 

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else. 

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add. 

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away. 

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all. 

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands. 

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely. 

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again. 

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.” 

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness. 

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.” 

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod. 

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled. 

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light. 

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty. 

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest  and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin. 

His heart jumps. 

“I didn’t catch that, baby.” 

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.” 

Your words tell him a lot of things. 

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home. 

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are. 

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it. 

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.” 

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters. 

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.” 

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes. 

“Make me forget about tonight, please.” 

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you. 

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling. 

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb. 

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can. 

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay. 

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night. 

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit. 

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body. 

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care. 

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you. 

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles. 

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.” 

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit. 

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity. 

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy. 

“Oh my god.” 

Serves you fucking right. 

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.” 

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?” 

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.” 

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens. 

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires. 

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.” 

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes. 

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked. 

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes. 

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over. 

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside. 

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.” 

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more. 

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.” 

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten. 

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough. 

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette. 

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine. 

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.” 

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you. 

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.” 

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before. 

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates. 

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty. 

Wants you to get used to it. 

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching. 

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you. 

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance. 

When he penetrates you there, you scream. 

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again. 

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do. 

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want. 

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm. 

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same. 

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart. 

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now. 

Tears well up in his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy. 

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is. 

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out. 

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it. 

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in. 

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted. 

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled. 

A dream come true. A desire gratified. 

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you. 

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much. 

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair. 

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.” 

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.” 

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore. 

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?” 

“Fast.” 

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.” 

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes. 

One person. One mind, one heart. 

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good. 

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop fucking you. 

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?” 

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies. 

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you. 

Gives you all of his cock. 

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you. 

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?” 

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy. 

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?” 

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it. 

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs. 

“No, feels good.” 

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?” 

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair. 

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe. 

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.” 

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too. 

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead. 

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off. 

He pounds into you. 

You’re no longer smiling. 

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard. 

Merciless. 

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone. 

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you. 

Who is he to say no to you? 

“You just want it bad, don’t you?” 

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him. 

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.” 

The air grows dense. 

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has. 

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned. 

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum. 

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning. 

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you. 

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?” 

You sound just like him. 

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down. 

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in. 

With a barrier in between. 

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you possibly write headcanons for a relationship with Mizu from The Blue Eyed Samurai? Hope all is well with you!

At first being in a relationship with Mizu was heavily strained for a multitude of reasons but the main one being that the people in Mizu’s life don’t tend to stay for the long run.

Which meant that Mizu was always putting a good deal of distance between the two of you as a way to prevent becoming overly attached to you, in the fear that you wouldn’t last as long either.

They acted like your second shadow with how close they stood near you, especially when in the company of unsavoury and shady individuals. A silent body guard that was about as still as a statue unless a move was made against you with ill intentions.

However thar never stopped Mizu from answering the call they had to protect you when needs be but by the time the threat was eliminated, it was back to pushing you away while keeping conversations you had to a minimum, all in hopes of deterring any and all hope you may have for a connection.

It’s not in a mean way but more so Mizu’s way of protecting you without integrating you into their mess, or be targeted by people who would love nothing more then to hit Mizu where it hurts.

It didn’t matter whether you were associated or not, you were still fair game for them to attempt other forms of capture.

Mizu wants the best for you and that isn’t sticking with them.

This often leads to arguments being had between the two of you because you felt as though Mizu was just trying to get out a relationship with you and doing things without your input on them, whilst Mizu believed you to be stubborn and not fully grasping the threat of being with them had on you and your well-being.

Anyway, enough of that angsty stuff.

Once Mizu gotten use to the fact that you weren’t going away anytime soon and rather serious in being by their side through thick and thin. They would slowly start to open up to you more by starting off small such as;

Shielding you from sight when someone becomes aggressive.

Making sure you don’t get injured and even if you did, no matter how large or small or maybe, Mizu would want to heal it themself and oversee your recovery process personally.

Sitting/ standing closer to you than before.

Or even Brushing off the snow from your clothes before it melts and soaks the clothing.

When Mizu gets even more comfortable within your relationship then they��ll start contemplating on how to enact physical contact but never knowing how. It had been a long while since they last allowed someone to hold their hand never less hold them but Mizu wasn’t quite sure you’d like that sort of affection.

So you’ll probably have to make the first step yourself by showing Mizu that you were more then okay with it by grabbing their hand, interlocking your pinkies together, holding on their arm or even straight up hugging the life out of them after a gruelling fight.

‘Thank god you’re okay.’ You cried into Mizu’s chest, breathing them in as much as you could as though the moment you let Mizu go, they’d disappear.

‘You know I’d always come back to you.’ Mizu told you as they reciprocated the hug despite how it pulled at their wounds but Mizu didn’t care, your health and well-being was something they hold in high regard.

‘I know that but I just can’t help my fear of the day I’ll loose you.’ You told them, pulling away from them a little bit and trying not to smile when Mizu instinctively tightened their grip on you. ‘But I also must remind myself that you’ve proven yourself capable enough to hold your own in a fight on multiple occasions.’ You pressed a tender kiss to Mizu’s cheek, chuckling when you saw their eyes widen at the innocent act.

For someone as powerful and amazing as Mizu, you pride yourself in how you were probably the only one that got to see this side of them. It was an honour to witness a moment that tasted as sweet as it looked.

Mizu meanwhile felt warm throughout their body, enjoying the feeling of you holding them as tightly as you were right now. Were they really this touch starved? Yes. Yes they were. Severely so.

They’d crumble internally during the more intimate moments where your both alone to your own devises. Run your fingertips gently across the scars on their shoulders or across their calloused hands and Mizu will be melting like butter. They felt safe within your hold, they felt as though the didn’t need to be on guard with you near and you felt protected and loved within Mizu’s hold, taking comfort in knowing that nothing could touch you with Mizu nearby.

You felt invincible either with Mizu and Mizu felt cherished. You both fill a void that neither of you thought could ever be filled.

Can and will punch Taigen for flirting with you. Mizu has done it before and isn’t afraid to do it again as extra.

[anothermansjeans]

How would youtuber reader react to Spencer getting seriously hurt at work? I'm talking hospital hurt

:(((

cw: mentions of hospitals, spencer gets shot :(, reader is SO worried

wc: 617

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“Where is he?”

Your hair was a mess, you were in sweats with two different shoes on, and you're pretty sure you collected a traffic ticket or two. You didn't care though. Spencer was hurt.

“Y/N!”

You rushed towards Penelope, and any other time you would have minded your tone, but that was the last thing on your mind. “Where is he?” You were panicked– rightfully so.

“He’s still in surgery.”

“Do they know anything?” You didn't mean to raise your voice, especially to Penelope, but you couldn't help yourself.

“He was shot in the abdomen, I’m not sure where exactly, but they're working really hard to make sure everything is okay.”

You pulled at your hair as you fell into the closet seat near you. The team was lingering around, everyone wanting to comfort you, but knew better than to talk to someone in this state of distress.

It was a long wait. Five hours. Spencer would've been able to tell you the exact amount of time. When the doctor finally came out, they had a hopeful look. You didn't want to assume anything, you didn't want to be hurt. They told you he would make a full recovery and that he was lucky, very lucky. One inch to the left and it would've… you don't know, some medical term that scared the shit out of you that you can't seem to remember as you now sit next to his sleeping figure.

You've been there all night, refusing to leave his side. You fell asleep sitting in the crappy hospital chair pulled up by his bed, and it was around 6 a.m the next morning when he finally woke up, letting out a groan that caused you to jump up awake.

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You got up immediately, and moved around the room to grab the cup of water a nurse left.

“Sorry,” his voice was hoarse, and he was still in the process of opening his eyes.

“Here, drink this.” You gently held the cup for him, allowing him to sip through the straw, “and don't apologize, you got shot, you're in pain. I just need you to heal.” Once he had enough water, you placed it down on the table beside him. “I need to call the nurse.”

“Don't go, please.”

You reached down and squeezed one of his hands, “I will be right back. They need to check your vitals, you know this, Spencer.”

And so you got the nurse, she checked his vitals, and got the doctor in to go over what happened with Spencer. He winced quite a bit at the words they were speaking, and when they finally left, you couldn't help the sob that erupted from your lips.

“Hey, what's wrong?” He turned his head towards you, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

You continued to cry, only able to speak in small intervals. “You–” another sob, “Spencer, you could've–”

You don't even have to finish your thought because Spencer already knew, “I know, I know.” He reached for your hand, and pulled you to sit back down beside him. You slumped over so that your forehead was lightly resting on his shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

You were trying to catch your breath between the sniffles and hiccups, “I just can't imagine– imagine you not here. I love you so much, Spencer.”

He hummed and brought a hand to your head, brushing your hair back. He wanted to say it was a hazard of the job, but he knew better. So, the two of you sat there, listening to the beeping of the machines, feeling lucky enough to be in each other's company.

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat @itsleilabxtch @strabarrybat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hey lil bro, hope you had a joyful birthday 🎂 and as always, thank you for what you do.

I'm not sure which format would be best, but it's for those M6 who knew MC before. How would they react or behave if MC comes back with cognitive loss compared to how they were before? Like it wouldn't be really noticeable if you hadn't known them before, but it's not insignificant for those who did?

Totally understandable if this isn't something you want to tackle. (This prompt is unfortunately personal for me so pls feel free to seek clarification if you do decide to go with it)

The Arcana HCs: When MC suffers from cognitive loss

~ for headcanon purposes, MC is dealing with short-term cognitive loss post upright ending due to a head injury/new meds/unforeseen but remedial issue. this manifests as poor short term memory, slowed thinking processes, difficulty putting together words, etc ~

Julian

He hates that you just can't seem to catch a break but he's so, so, so very happy that this is a situation that lets him use his strengths for you. Few things make him happier than knowing he's helping

You do quickly realize that much of the reason he's able to cope with your sudden change in functioning is years of "doctor mode"

That said, he'll turn any situation into a bonding moment

Can't remember the word you're looking for? He'll turn into a walking thesaurus and rattle off any and all related vocabulary he can remember (which is quite a bit, with all that reading)

Difficulty processing information? No worries, he can share his own thought process out loud so you have something to follow. You'll get there in your own time

There are moments when he worries that the care he gives you won't be enough to fix it, but he also knows that nothing about your situation changes who you are, or how much he loves you

Overjoyed when he sees you start to recover and makes a point of commemorating every milestone. He knew you could do it!

Asra

It's a mess and they know it's a mess and the main thing they feel is grief that you have to experience loss like this all over again

Being someone who doesn't process grief or sadness easily, he's going to work towards making life beautiful for you again instead. He is nothing if not resilient, adaptable, and hopeful

Even if you stay this way for the rest of your life, they'll still love you unconditionally and savor every day they get to spend with you

And it's that mindset riddled with hope and triggers that puts him on eggshells. He's not pressuring you, he's not afraid of you, but he's terrified of making things worse or making you feel lesser

So very gentle and accommodating about any new needs. You can't piece your sentence together? Take a deep breath, join your hands with theirs, and they'll work it out through your bond

Struggling to remember what you were going to do today? He'll remind you if he knows, and if he doesn't, it'll work itself out

Watching you work your way back to your usual state tells them all over again that holding out hope for your healing is always good

Nadia

Deeply upset about what you're losing and even more angry with herself for why she's bothered about it - your thoughts and words were what drew her in and made her fall for you

But now, both of those things have been compromised, and under the concern that you're missing something core to who you are is the fear that her love won't be strong enough to weather it

And she hates that about herself

Which is why she's not going to burden you with this set of insecurities. Rather, she's determined to see you get better, and she's going to put all her faith in who she knows you to be

In the process she ends up realizing that slower thoughts and cumbered speaking don't change anything about who you are. You're still you, and she loves you unfalteringly

She also gets terrifyingly good at saying what you're thinking before you even realize you're thinking it in conversations

So, so proud of you every step of your recovery. She's still permanently losing her habit of springing trick questions on you

Muriel

Is it still you? Yes. Are you alive? Yes. So what if you need to take extra time to collect your thoughts? His personal record for deciding what to have for dinner spans days

(A/N: this is called procrastination, and going without eating for that long was not good for him and something he needed to stop)

So what if you don't have words for what you're thinking? He doesn't have words either most of the time. It's all good

He's still bothered by it, though, because you're bothered by it. He can tell how frustrated you are with yourself and he hates seeing the way it affects your self-esteem. He'll help however he can

Don't worry about finishing your thought, life in the woods moves at glacial paces. Take as much time as you need to keep going

It's okay if you can't say the words you want to. Gestures work just as well - in fact, it's never too late to learn a little sign

If anything, it's refreshing to see you slow down to his pace

So happy for you as you recover. It makes no difference to his love for you, but you're happier for it and that's what matters

Portia

Oh, she's upset to the point of coming across as angry

Not at you - of course not at you, she knows this is in no way your fault, but between her empathic heart absorbing all of your frustration and grief and her own concern for you, it's ... a lot

The extent to which she's projecting her own feelings of being held back by her situation onto you doesn't help either

Which is why she's not giving up on you. If you reach a point where you'd rather find a way to make life good as is, then she'll make her peace with it. Until then, it's full steam ahead to your recovery

It's still a struggle with her own impatience, though. She finishes half the sentences you start with uncanny accuracy, and then beats herself up for not keeping your space to work through it

She misses being able to toss ideas back and forth and hearing your feedback right away, but she's learning to value it more

Bakes celebratory cakes and sweets every single time you hit a milestone or seem to have clearly improved, and never stops reminding you what a loved and delightful person you are

Lucio

His only personally negative feeling about this is that your communications lag-time gets frustrating when he's got the attention span of a squirrel in autumn. He's trying, okay?

Other than that, you're not that much different to him. You still love him. You're still here, despite the "oopsies". You're still very kissable

What truly bothers him is the dip in your own self-worth. He'd have to be blind to miss the way you deflate or panic a little every time you struggle or fail to do what used to be so easy for you

To him, you're the best. You're his best. That's how you deserve to feel about yourself. And if you aren't, he wants to help you out of it

His encouragement doesn't come from telling you you'll recover or from putting together a meticulous care plan. It comes in the form of jokes and hugs and "don't worry about it, you're still awesome"s

Which, granted, isn't necessarily the best emotional support for when you want to vent or process, but he's not going anywhere

You saved him, so you're stuck with him for life. He's dedicated to you whatever the outcome, and immeasurably proud of you always

[vulpixisananimal]

(you leave for one loop. One day. And it becomes a blinding disaster. Oh yes, Stardust gets a loop where they can relax and don't need to worry about anything and look what happens.)

(Because of you.)

(I did not do anything.)

(Oh sure! Was I mistaken? Was I mistaken thinking that the one who's always causing trouble, always making things harder, was the one who messed everything up!?!)

(I had to do what I had to do. It's fixed now.)

(Fixed?!? Is that all you care about?!?)

(You grip the sides of the sink. You might be sick again at this rate. You couldn't tell if the nausea was from looping or from the mental argument you were having.)

(It's fine! Really, it's wonderful even! You could share what you learned now. And figure all this out. It's fine.)

(But first, cue Isabeau.)

"You alright, Sif?--" >> "--Just some loopy stuff, not that bad, I'll meet you for breakfast!"

(It's so easy to slip back into the old routine. It's comfortable. It's easy. You can just zone out and respond in exactly the right way. And yet, it made your skin crawl. After all you've been through you're still supposed to memorize a play? What a joke.)

(You go through the motions, get fully dressed, go downstairs, greet your party. Quesadillas again. They'd probably still be tasty, though you wont want them for a bit after these loops.)

"You sure you're alright??--" >> "--Do you think that's why you're sick again?"

(You were zoning out a lot. Change things up.)

"That would make sense, craft exhaustion, right?"

"Alright eat up then 'Frin, gotta get your energy back." (Nille gave you more food like last time.)

"At least let me finish first breakfast." (You say, smiling.) "I am hungry though."

(You still weren't sure if you felt better or worse after taking some time to relax. Although, that 'relaxing' time was cut short. You take a bite of the quesadilla.)

(??!?!!?!)

"Is Bonnie feeling okay?" (You ask.)

"They woke up with a headache, I think it's from that bonk from yesterday." (Nille looked worried at you bringing it up.) "Just, don't mention the burnt food."

(Odile spoke up from behind her book.) "It shouldn't be from that bang on the head. No concussion, any booboos they had Mirabelle healed up."

"Well what else would it be then."

(You quietly eat up the quesadilla. Just think for a second, Loop. It's probably nothing. Just focus on the task at hand.)

(You and I know that it's impossible for the past to change. If something did change, it would be us who did it.)

(So why does Bonnie have a headache?)

(. . .)

(You're still not giving me all the details~)

(It does not matter, it will distract you.)

(You're afraid arent you~ You're afraid that things are going to change~)

(As are you.)

(I'M at least trying to-)

(You bite your tongue.)

"Blinding-" (You exclaim.) "Ow."

"Everything alright, Siffrin?" (Odile asked.)

"Oh I just bit my tongue, eating too fast."

"Aw no!!" (Isa said, concerned.) Want me to check if it's ok??"

"So you can kiss it better?" (You reply, almost instinctually.)

"!??!?!!!?!?"

"HA!"

"Get a ROOM you two!"

(Isabeaus face was getting off shade, it took you a second before you processed what you just said and what it meant.)

"OH. UH. I DIDNT??? MEAN, UH???"

(you hide yourself in your hat. That's??? So embarrassing?!?!? Oh stars you said that as a JOKE. "I banged my elbow kiss it better." Stupid, stupid Loop! You're making such a fool of yourself.) ". . . S-sorry."

"Noit'sokI'mokit'sfine." (And now Isa was covering his face.)

(. . .)

(Not a WORD from you.)

(There's a bit of an awkward pause before casual conversation starts again. You mostly just zone out untill Bonnie comes back.)

(They looked. . . Fine? It was hard to tell from last time, maybe a bit more tired looking? Nothing physicaly wrong, not that it looked like, they caught you staring at stuck out their tongue at you and make a "nyeeh" noise. You stick your tongue out back.)

"Quite done, you two?" (Odile said without looking up.)

"'Frin started it."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Alright maybe I did."

(Mirabelle gasped.) "Siffrin? Admiting to cheekyness??"

"Truly a dark day." (Odile commented.)

(You all chuckle.)

(Here again. Back at the explination table. You know you could keep the loops a secret this time, but no. You needed help, you did ask for it after all~)

(Might as well make it fun, though. You look around and see a few scraps of note paper, you grab one and quickly write something down. Next, who to pass it to. . .)

(Odile is still in her book, Mirabelle was checking on Bonnie, Isabeau. . . Passing a note to Isa right now's a bad look. Nille, then. You crumple the paper into a ball and gently throw it at her as she's about to take a bite of food. She pauses and looks at you. You hold up a finger and wink.)

(You lean back in your chair.) "Let's skip going to the defenders, when we head there later today it just becomes a whole mess."

"You looped again!?!?--" >> "--I'll look for one of those next time."

(You hear a stiffled laugh come from Nille, looking over, she had de-crumpled the note and looked at it. She gave you a look and held it up.)

"So do you just have the whole crabbing day memorized, Siffy?" (The note was that whole exchange written down. Nille passes the note to Mirabelle to look.)

(You stick out your tongue.) "Maybe~"

"What's our next line then, Siffrin." (Odile had closed her book, now quite curious.)

"Well, bonnies next line is 'that's crabbing stupid.'"

"Language."

"No that comes after Bonnies line." (Ok this is kind of fun actually)

"Alright, but what's your next line." (Mirabelle says, curious.)

(You nod.) "That this will be try number four, or five, First was me and Odile at the library, rest of you to the Defenders place, Bonnie came running back to us because Mira was framed for kidnapping Bonnie."

"!?!?!?--" >> "--Language."

(There's a bit of a pause as everyone catches up to the exchange that just happened, and laughs.)

"Well, at least you're making light of it?"

"Tee hee, I try~" (Now, how to explain things quickly.) "Next loop we all went to the Defenders and bumped into an old friend of Isabeaus, going by Ramos now. We got split up, Ramos and Isa were acting suspicious, we confronted Ramos and they had a wishing star pendant like from yesterday. There was also a strong mint smell around. And then last loop Mira Isa and Odile went to figure out if mint was a sign of anything."

"That's, quite a lot to take in." (Said Odile.) "Well, did we find anything?"

(You nod) "Yep, a strong mint smell is assosiated with Mind Craft. It makes sense really, with how Isa and Stardust acted~"

". . . Stardust?"

(You wince. Stars! STARS! Oh great you were just TALKING and explaining things and DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. Alright, fine, fine, you'd have to explain this anyways probably.)

(You could try again.)

"R-right, aha, well. . ." (You shook your head, lights, camera...) "Well it's a bit of a story, Mirabelle had the wonderful idea that we take a loop to rest up! Oh very, very thoughtful~"

"Uh, th-thank you?" (Mira looked confused, well, everyone did a little.) "Did, did it go alright?"

"Oh it did! For a bit. And then our good friend Ramos showed up. Stardust, Siffrin, thought it would be a wonderful idea to talk to them to figure out a few things. Buuuuuuuut then Ramos grabed their hand and he started acting ~very different~"

(You felt like you were going to have a heart attack. When was the last time you talked to your party? REALLY talked to them. It was on the final day, wasn't it? And even then you were all worried about Stardust. You just need to keep acting.)

"Let me guess. Siffrin was effected by mind craft in some way, but you weren't?" (Odile, like usual, was ahead of the curve.)

"Correct~ Hello by the way, your friendly neighborhood Loop here to help~"

"Oh! Good to talk to you again then!" (Mirabelle said excitedly.)

"Yeah. Lot cooler than 'Frin." (Bonnie said all cheekily.)

"A devistating blow to someone not even here. Are they around at all, by the way?" (Odile asked.)

"Well. . ."

(We shouldn't bring him to front. They are likely still effected by mind craft.)

(And how would you know that?)

(I don't.)

(Exactly. You tap your chin.) "Well I could get them, but we're worried that mind craft is still effecting him."

"Still?"

"But, didn't you turn back time?!?"

"Yeah, it never happened then, right?"

(You shrug.) "Kinda. Memories stay. Our body keeps some of it's changes, scars and muscle growth, but not wounds. We keep our fighting experience too, naturally. And for some reason, equipment."

"Oh right... Like the bow my classmate got me." (Mirabelle touched their bow, the same one.) "That really hurt my head to think about."

(Nille rubbed her head.) "Well if you get them we can check easily. And if Siffy's still gotten mind crabbery we'll..."

"Then we make sure Loop doesn't get effected either!!" (Isabeau said confidently.)

"Or undo it. It should be easy enough, unless-" (Odile starts)

"-it was powered by a wish." (You finish with her.)

". . This is weird." (Nille says.)

"Give me a day and I could recite those two days in Dormont by heart~"

"Even the sleepover?"

"Especially the sleepover."

(You all chuckle a bit at that. It's. . . Kind of nice, being able to be open about this. Even if you wish it could be in better circumstances.)

"I've got two plans today." (You say, as you take another bite of food.) "First, we'll all check on Stardust and see how he's handling things~ "

"Rude to talk and eat, Loopert." (Nille sais smugly.)

(You choke on your food. Loopert?!?!)

"Hah! Loopert."

"Hehe. It's a cute nickname."

(You sink down in your cloak and quickly finish that bite of food.) "Any chance we could rethink the nickname?"

"No!!! You're Loopert now!!!"

(Great.)

(Well if we they wont remember at least.)

"Alright alright, well the other thing I want to do is try talking to Ramos agian."

"Huh."

"So daring..."

"Are you sure about that, Loop." (Mirabelle seemed worried.)

"Well, I'm curious how they'll react. The last two times we've bumped into eachother they've been. . . acting strange. Oh, and I would like to talk to them one on one if possible."

"You do realize if that mind craft stuck this could be increddibly risky." (Odile looked concerned. Understandibly so.)

"I'd like to be around in case they try anything. . ." (Said Isabeau.)

(You nod.) "Well, if you all could stay nearby in case something does happen, that would be great."

"Why do you need to talk to them alone anyways?" (Nille asked.)

"W-well. . ." (How to put this.) "I don't want to be rude, but you all are terrible actors."

"Ah. . ."

"Oh. . ."

"Ouch, but fair."

"Sorry." (You shrug.) "One of the best advantages of not talking about the loops was knowing exactly how things go. But we made a promise to not keep secrets soooo~"

"No no, I understand Loop." (Mirabelle looked a bit dejected.) "I don't know if I'd be able to keep a straight face."

"Heh, I could do it." (Bonnie said smugly.)

"Sure you could Boniface." (Nille replied.)

"Yeah!!! I could!!!"

"I'll go sign you up for theater classes then."

"NO!!!!"

(Heh, that would be a sight to see.)

(At least we have a plan.)

[ike-garden2024]

Mirror Mirror 🪞

So I read this man’s route. The translated version provided by @aishangotome it was so good! There’s quite a few translations on their page. Go check it out!! 😄 It took me a couple days to process what I read because I binged the entire thing, including both endings 🤣 this is a mess of a post 🙈 the rest of this post will contain spoilers, if that’s not something you want to see please scroll away 😂 anyway thank you @aishangotome for your translation work! Now let’s talk about the man in question, Alfons

Warning ‼️ contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some including but not limited to: death, addictions, trauma, etc.

The tragic fate attached to his curse is exactly what I thought it would be, to be forgotten by everyone who knew him after he dies. I can only imagine how painful that is. Lots of people nearing death tend to talk about their memories a lot and often I’ve heard them say “I’ll be remembered for x,y,z”, Alfons can’t have that… well, not completely… I like that the writers added the part of Roger and Kate doing some research of people who were involved with someone who has the mirror curse. It opened up another avenue, the name and face may be forgotten but the impact the cursed one had on the other person is not. In fact it leaves the person with a sense of emptiness, like they’ve forgotten something important. While that can be painful, it also means that the life of the cursed one matters, they’re important. I can imagine that no one wants to leave their loved ones with that kind of pain, a pain that will never really heal over time because they’ll always be wondering what/who their forgetting and that could potentially lead to always trying to find answers. It can potentially drive a person crazy. Despite all that, I think I agree with Kate. All of that pain and suffering is worth it. Sure you end up making memories that you’ll eventually forget and you’ll forget the important person but, your body and emotions don’t forget, it’s still actively being felt. That’s why Alfons loving Kate means tearing her life to shreds, leaving unforgettable marks on her entire being. It’s also why he’d prefer to die after her, he genuinely doesn’t want to be forgotten by her. I think in the fake wedding event epilogue she says something about dying together 🤔 I can’t quite remember.

Moving on! The way he goes about using his abilities doesn’t strike me as “evil” necessarily. On his personal time I mean!! He’s certainly making criminals go mad as part of his judgement on them 😂 although it’s a bit twisted, the way he makes himself available for random people to use his power is a form of care. It’s not good to run away from the reality of a situation but many times people wish they could. That’s kind of where addictions and bad habits come from. But even if it’s not that extreme, reading a favorite book, watching a favorite show, playing a game, etc. are also ways to escape reality for a while. I like the way the character Alfons basically encompasses the idea of escapism. It’s an extreme version of something everyone does in their own way. I’ve always loved how writers have the ability to create a whole new world where you can just get lost in. It’s what inspires my career choice and seeing people’s reactions to anime, games, stories, etc. continues to motivate me. I’d love to help create a world one day for people to enjoy. Reading Alfons’s route weirdly motivated me more 😂 without moderation, anything can become an addiction, but it’s sometimes hard to create these moderations. Alfons always makes himself available, his free time is literally dedicated to sex addicts behind a bar and people in the east side(?) of London. Moderation is not in that man’s vocabulary 🤣 He can say it’s for entertainment all he wants but I think he’s somewhat genuinely concerned 😂 he’s like a drug though, have a small taste and you end up wanting more and more.

I don’t particularly like the man’s personality but I understand it a lot better now. I can somewhat respect it but thats it 🤣 His lifestyle choice truly is understandable after reading his story and the “why” behind it all pulls at my heart a bit. Honestly the way he found out about his curse and fate did not help at all 😂 like young Roger had absolutely no consideration when he dropped the info on him. To young Roger it was like “a new subject!” Damn, what if he would’ve turned out a little different had young Roger just gone about it a different way. I believe this is the reason they don’t get along(?) it’s my understanding at least. When the route comes out in English I’m looking forward to reading his side stories to get to know him even more. I definitely find him interesting from a writing perspective. Great character concept and execution!

AH! I forgot to touch on the Elbert/Alfons dynamic. They’re so cute 🥰 you can really tell they care for each other. With their silly bets, Alfons leaving Elbert a handwritten note, and just other things 🤭 it’s great

This is such a bad pile of notes, I apologize for any mistakes but I needed to get my thoughts down and out 😂 Thank you

[gotta-pet-em-all]

Pokemon-induced healing

And why you fuckers shouldn't rely on it for everything, Arceus fuck stop forcing your poor Chansey to take care of wounds that you should seriously go to the hospital for

* * * * *

okay. SO. To preface this, I volunteered in a Pokemon center for a while. And while this was just a volunteer position and not something I had medical training for, I've also got personal experience. Due to my poor coordination and shitty connective tissue, I tend to fall over, bump into things, and bruise very easily. So trust me when I say I know what I'm talking about.

So, how does pokemon healing work?

That's a fucking complicated question. So, let's start with the healing moves and narrow it down. The main ones I'm going to be talking about here are Heal Pulse, Life Dew, and Floral Healing.

Actually no I'm not qualified to talk about Floral Healing. If any comfey trainers wanna add on, feel free.

Heal pulse and life dew! So, Heal Pulse is the one I have the most familiarity with, and it's essentially a wave of energy that encourages your body to accelerate the natural healing process. No, it does not artificially age you, and it will not reduce your lifespan, but let's be real for a moment. If you get injured and need healing that much, your lifespan may be in danger for other reasons.

However. There are other dangers to it that really aren't talked about a lot, namely: repairing tissue damage, and infection. There are a lot of situations in which heal pulse can be risky:

-injured person has an artificially suppressed or otherwise compromised immune system.

-injured person has a heart condition, particularly where arrhythmia is a symptom

-injury is infected or contains foreign substance

-dead tissue is still attached to affected area

And I'm gonna break down one by one, why all of these are bad!

So, it's not quite as well known, but heal pulse actually does have an impact on the immune system. In ancient times, it was believed that cursed pokemon would make you sick when they healed you, but in actuality, this phenomenon was simply the pokemon kicking the immune system into gear for a minor/dormant infection that would have happened anyways. However, this can be dangerous for people with a compromised immune system, because you're basically trying to squeeze blood from a stone. In most cases, it can make their immune systems worse, and while this is thankfully temporary, it's still deeply unpleasant and may interfere with someone's plans because you've abruptly shunted them to the hospital when they were going to have brunch with the girls this week instead.

Next is arrhythmia. I've got this one, it flares up from time to time. I cannot stress enough that disabled people are everywhere. We don't just exist as tokens at the edge of your imagination. We're probably at the grocery store or on public transportation. It may just be that I'm a bit jaded, but it pisses me off more than anything that I have to experience symptoms when I would love to be frolicking through the woods. Anyways, heal pulse relies on the heartbeat to synchronize with and distribute the energy-- so when the heartbeat is uneven? Things can start getting a lil fucky. Usually this results in dizziness, nausea, feeling flushed, and on rare occasions fainting. People with heart conditions are more common than you think, please ask us before messing with our bodies.

Third thing is infections. Remember how I said that heal pulse kicks your immune system into overdrive? Well, the immune system is responsible for expelling all foreign matter from your system, not just illness. This is why you'll want to make sure to clean a wound first, unless it's urgent. You can skip the wound cleaning part if it's an emergency, but... it's not really pretty. Seriously. I don't advise it.

Fourth reason! Okay, so, this is gonna be a little gross, but let's say you trip and skin your knee. It's bleeding, you've got a weird little flap of skin hanging off. Normally, that skin will turn white (or at least it does for me; I have light skin, but I'm told it may turn a pale greyish color for people with dark skin. That said, I'm gonna be real. I do not want to look up pictures, so I am trusting the dark skinned folks reading this to know what dead/peeling skin looks like for them) and eventually fall off. HOWEVER. If you apply heal pulse to it? There's a decent chance that your body may attempt to revitalize the dead skin at the same time as it scabs over the wound and then the skin closes up and eats the scab. It won't kill you, and eventually the extra flap of skin will die, but it's still. Geh. It's really not pleasant. Don't do it.

If this sounds fucking horrifying, that's because it is! All of these things are fucking horrifying to happen to your body! Don't ask me how I know this!

Now that you've all been suitably terrified of the dangers of heal pulse, let me introduce you to an alternative: life dew! Life dew does not interfere with arrhythmia, can be stored with special preparation, and generally has much weaker effects. It tends to help with the process of clotting and scabbing more so than healing, so if you've made any mistakes, they're generally easier to remedy.

Pokemon healing, like any other type, requires consent. Yes, there are exceptions-- sometimes a person cannot reasonably consent in their current state, or there was an accident with a wild scyther and consent is the last thing on your mind with all the blood everywhere. Even so, please always keep in mind that you need to respect the sanctity of other people's bodies and take accountability for your actions as a trainer.

That's all!

[milkws-world]

Bitter// Simon “Ghost” Riley

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

•Readers call sign is Circe!

Warnings: ANGSTTT, descriptions of burn out and sad feelings, ghost being a little bit of an ass, two adults sorting their shit out

Summary:

“I’m sorry doll, I really am” he was pressing his forehead against yours now. “I’m not any good at this either, if you couldn’t already tell. But I wanna try, wanna try for you.” Your hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, you felt like you were about to burst. You knew how rare it was for him to say stuff like this and the fact that he wanted to try was pulling at your heart. “Don’t even wanna think about losing you and the fact that I made you doubt that-.” He cut himself off, he looked like he was trying to regain his composure.

A/N: Heyyy lovelies, long time no see. This can be read as a stand alone or as a Pt.2 to Cold Hands. There is a second part to this one with all the spicy stuff so don’t worry😋. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday.

It had been a month since the night he had stayed over at your flat. The night he touched and caressed you like it’d be the last time. You had been intimate before, there was no denying that, but the fact he stayed that night changed everything. You had feared it’d been too much too soon; your mind was a mess compared to the tidy and organized side of the bed opposite you, his side.

He had been deployed with Price and Gaz onto some mission you were only given brief details about.

Urzikstan. Massive cargos. Illegal weapons. Capture the target.

You were on R&R(rest and recuperation) by the captain. Usually, you would have been at the door of his office as soon as you received the news, but it had been a long fucking time since you’d gotten some proper rest. The dark areas underneath your eyes, scars that were still in their healing process, rough hands that could barely be flexed all the way due to the death grip you constantly had on your gun, and the tightness in every single muscle were all indicators towards the fact you needed a break.

The physical aspect of it all was only the beginning to the burn out you had felt coming long ago. You felt like shit to put it quite plainly. This month had you feeling empty and mentally exhausted beyond belief, when these long missions were finally done you no longer felt any sense of accomplishment just relief that it was finally over. It had been hard to get out of bed alone that morning no warning, no note, no nothing. You couldn’t exactly say you were surprised but anything at all would’ve been nice, because it’s what you would’ve done for him.

Now maybe that’s just you going out of your way or falling too hard for a man whose face you had never even fully seen. But it’s also just basic fucking respect from your point of view. Not having much to do was really starting to take its toll on you, too much thinking and reading into things you were sure weren’t even there was driving you insane. But it was only a couple more days before they’d come back to base, before he came back.

Meeting debriefs after missions is always quick, everyone just wants to get out of that room and cleanse themselves of all the horrors and grief that comes with the job. It was coincidence really; you didn’t even know they had gotten back. It was when you and Soap were on your way to the mess hall that you saw him, and he saw you. He had to have. You were right fucking there; you swore your shoulder even grazed a bit when you passed by.

“Glad to have ya’ back Lt.” the Scottish man said. You could tell he was hanging onto that last bit of sanity by the sag in his shoulders and the dragging of his feet, but his eyes said it all for him.

“Soap” the word came out dry and curt, a vocal representation of the man himself.

That was it, no nod or a glance of his eyes over to you to acknowledge that you were there. Just skimmed right past you. That was fine you tried to convince yourself, it’s probably what you were like after coming back from a mission. But it hurt, yet again you knew you shouldn’t expect much from him. You were a grown woman you shouldn’t be thinking about such a short and simple moment like a teenager in high school who can't wait to pass by her crush in the hallways.

Soon enough it had been two weeks since they’d been back, and everyone had gone their separate ways to recover from possibly the longest past 6 months of their lives. Those two weeks on base were hell though and you had never been gladder to be in your own plain and undecorated flat by yourself. He completely ignored you, and you had tried to come up with reasons or justifications but there just wasn’t any that were good enough for you.

It was the third day after the group returned when you tried talking to him for the first time. You figured you’d give him some time alone to gather his thoughts and recover from the long mission, but he was not up for your antics. You had caught sight of him leaving the mess hall and decided to excuse yourself from the group. Your small and quick steps making work to catch up to his long strides.

“Ghost” no response. At this point you were starting to get annoyed.

“Simon” you said more quietly as you were now only two feet behind him. He turns around and meets your soft gaze with a plain one. He looked almost bothered, you could feel it in the way he turned around with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Hey, are you alright or-”

“Fine” his answer was simple as always never a man of many words, at least not in public. You were starting to blank out under his cold gaze. He didn’t make you nervous but with the way he was looking at you right now you couldn’t necessarily say you felt at peace either.

“Ok um, well just wanted to check up on you really quickly” you felt like you had set yourself up. The air was thick, and you could feel your thoughts racing at 100 miles per hour as you waited for a response.

“Look sergeant, whatever you think is going to happen it’s not going to. I’m not here for hugs and cuddles, I'm here to do a fuckin’ job” to say you felt shocked was an understatement, he looked unfazed. “I'd suggest you do the same.” He walks away and you stay rooted in your spot, still processing his bitter words.

To say you were pissed was an understatement, who the fuck did he think he was? The rest of those two weeks were filled with awkward tension and silent fury from your side. It was to the point you couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him for more than a couple seconds, partly because the sight of him made your blood boil and because as much as you didn’t want to admit it you were upset. To have something build up little by little then just have that snatched away like it was nothing was horrible. He had gained your trust just as you had his, not just over a couple of nights but years of knowing each other and protecting one another with your lives. Holding each other at the depths of night and piecing each other back up with kisses and soft yet rough hands.

You couldn’t sleep, the fatigue had been slowly pulling at your bones like a tide pulling you in to the comfort of a vast sea. It was too much though; his words had been taunting your brain over and over again. So, you got up, ripping off the soft sheets which were a blessing compared to the coarse ones back at base. The need to get some fresh air and freeze your thoughts with the cold night air was starting to sound more pleasant than sulking in bed.

As soon as you open the door your reflexes take over for you, reaching for a gun in a holster that was long forgotten in the backpack you had left in your room. You soon realized there was no danger though, just a mass of black with jeans, a hoodie, and a black surgical mask with a hand raised midair. Was he about to knock?

“Ghost” you sounded breathless, even to yourself. Like the wind had been knocked out of you at just the sight of those eyes. Those god damned eyes. So responsive to everything around him, shifting at the slightest sound and showing emotions that could only be understood if one knew him. Knew him like you did. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes with no paint to cover them up were exposing him. “Are you alright?” Your question suddenly brought you back to your brief conversation a couple weeks earlier. You couldn’t help yourself though, worry taking over as there were very few reasons for him to be here.

“Fi-” he exhaled through his nose suddenly stopping himself, ah so he also remembered your conversation. “I was in town just wanted to come check up on you.”

“At 2 in the morning?” you were holding back. You wanted to say how shit he had made you feel for the last two weeks.

“Yeah I know, look can I come inside? I wanna- I need to talk to you.” He sounded desperate, and you considered it for a second, hesitating. “Please” to say you felt defeated as you opened the door wider for him to come in was an understatement.

You waited for him to start; he was the one that had come to you first not the other way around. He looked nervous almost, his tense posture making you feel more uneasy as well, he had that effect on you.

“Circe, I didn’t mean what I said back at base” he was looking at you with pleading eyes. You knew where this was going. “I pushed you away and I was an arse, I didn’t mean to fuck up what we had going on.”

“Simon” you could tell hearing his name took him by surprise by the way his pupils widened “what you did and what you said it fucking hurt.”

“I'm not a good at any of this especially trying to read you when you won’t even look at me but if you don’t want this anymore just tell me.” You continued, “Don’t destroy my trust, don’t leave me to pick up the pieces by myself after you say shit like that.” You could feel your eyes watering a bit, you don’t know why you were getting so emotional, although it was probably because the thought of losing what little you had built with him felt grim.

He couldn’t help it, especially when your eyes were getting that glossy look and your lower lip was pouting out a little. So he reached out, slowly, like a child dipping their feet to test out the waters. He wasn’t wearing any gloves and his hands felt cold as they held your face delicately, as if he was bearing the world's most fine China. He tilted your face up so you’d look at him and fuck, he knew he had screwed up, and if he was going to make it up to you he had to do it fast.

“I’m sorry doll, I really am” he was pressing his forehead against yours now. “I’m not any good at this either, if you couldn’t already tell. But I wanna try, wanna try for you.” Your hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, you felt like you were about to burst. You knew how rare it was for him to say stuff like this and the fact that he wanted to try was pulling at your heart. “Don’t even wanna think about losing you and the fact that I made you doubt that-.” He cut himself off, he looked like he was trying to regain his composure.

“Simon, it's alright” you knew he was being sincere, and you also wanted to try, “just please, don’t do this to me again. Because you know I won’t tolerate it, not even from you.”

“I know, I know” he was pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Alright” he takes you by surprise with his next action though. He pulls back only slightly to tear off his mask, and heavens above he is gorgeous to you. His jaw, sharp and stubbled with short hairs. His nose sharp and straight with a slight bump, and his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that brought his face all together.

“Hidin’ all this from me under a mask?” you were smiling up at him now. “Not anymore” he responds with a sly smirk on his face. His lips are brushing against yours and you can't resist anymore. So, you bring his lips to yours and close the gap. It was gentle, starting off with short kisses but you were greedy it had been far too long. He can sense your eagerness and slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, swiping it over your own and over the roof of your mouth. He tasted like Marlboro reds with the slightest hint of Whiskey, his favorite of course.

You felt whole again, the missing puzzle piece was finally found. You kind of hated how much you were relying on him already, but God was it addicting, like the poison you could taste in his mouth. He was grabbing at you slowly bringing his hand down from your face to your neck to keep you in place. It was getting messy, both of your spit was collecting at the corners of your mouth and you felt like you’d asphyxiate from the lack of air but what he was giving you was more than enough to keep you going. His hand grabbed at your jaw to tilt your head and his hand on your waist dragged you closer making you arch up against him. His mouth slowly trailed down to your neck leaving soft kisses and sucking marks onto your neck as you leaned your head to the side. Then he went up right behind your ear, your soft spot. He pulled back to look at your face, you already felt disoriented form all the affection and he could tell.

He then softly placed his mouth right by your ear, “Let me make it up to you.”

A/N: hey there, hope you enjoyed that😙. In case you didn’t see the note on the top just know that there will be a second part to this with all the spicy stuff🌶️. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday, happy new years!

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Hi!

Have I ever told you this? (Probably! But I'll say it again, ha) It's been an absolute treat reading your Royai fics. Thank you for joining this fandom!

What are your inspirations? 😃 In terms of writing style, but also ideas, etc. Please indulge us all, and please do geek out about your writing process too!

I always love learning about how fan fic writers work and write!

Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

Hey there!

You are so kind. It's hard to put into words how much it means to have had such a lovely reception from the FMA fandom. I used to write a lot when I was a kid, but eventually stopped due to some unfortunate and painful circumstances. Writing for this fandom over the last couple of months has been an incredible journey. It has healed some very intrinsic parts of me that I’d forgotten were wounded, and I have written more in the last few months than I have in 15+ years.

So, first and foremost, thank YOU.

Inspirations: I've always been a lover of fantasy and science fiction. My very first fandom was Star Wars, followed shortly thereafter by Avatar: The Last Airbender. Recently, I've become a huge Sarah J. Maas fan (I read ALL of her books in the year 2023 - minus the new one that came out in January). I've also enjoyed Suzanne Collins and Leigh Bardugo (particularly her Six of Crows duology).

But really, I just love stories. I love adventure, magic, and romance. I look for complex characters, vibrant worlds, strong magic systems, and rich backstories. My favorites always involve women who embody strength (mental, physical, and emotional), capable leadership, and femininity. Characters who are equal parts war-like and compassionate, fearsome yet soft.

But my very best inspiration comes from real-life: my sweet husband. It's going to sound silly, but I feel like I write about true love because I've experienced it. This guy was 100% written by a woman (lol). He's read everything I've written, and provides the most wonderful feedback and encouragement.

As far as style/process, I feel like I am still developing it? Haha! It's only been a minute since I got back into writing. But it usually starts with daydreaming to music (often songs without lyrics; Secession Studies is a favorite), typically while I'm in the car. With my first FMA fic, The Counteroffer, I was listening to "Beautiful Things" by Benson Boone on repeat. Something about the way he sings "Please stay / I want you, I need you, oh God" really set the tone for that story. That, combined with inspiration from the infamous Chapter 54 of A Court of Mist and Fury.

There's usually an moment or a line of dialogue that pops into my brain first (for The Counteroffer, it was Hawkeye lifting the discharge paperwork to find Mustang has also given her an unsigned marriage certificate). I write that bit, then the rest of the story sort of fills in around it. I write in disjointed fragments, adding chunks here and there and then connecting them together. Sometimes I shuffle things around, moving chunks to different locations in the story to see how it changes the flow.

Beginnings, endings, and titles are usually the hardest for me to come up with.

And here's a few of my own patterns that I've started to notice:

I love stories that read with a poetic beat to them (I think the best example of this in my own work is Hourglass).

I use line breaks for emphasis a lot.

I am intentional about keeping things concise but impactful. When it comes to word count, my personal rule is quality > quantity, always.

I try not to use "said/says" without other descriptive words.

If a portion of the story is dialogue driven, I'll read it aloud to make sure it actually flows like real conversation.

I often drop "and" from sentences when I feel like it messes with the poetic flow ("She became familiar with the space between heartbeats, the squeeze of the trigger, the wet sound of a bullet finding its mark." - Hourglass).

In the same vein, I use a sort of "rule of threes" quite a bit. I break sentences into three parts, offer three descriptions of a character's observation/sensation/emotion, repeat the same phrase three times, etc. (Oh look, I've done it again.)

I write in third person, present tense, always from the perspective of one character at a time. I feel like this puts myself and the reader right in the middle of the action, as it's happening. I dive deep into the primary character's thoughts and senses, both internal and external.

I re-read/re-watch the original content (i.e. FMAB, the manga) often, even if it's just in small parts. It keeps me grounded to who these characters are, and prevents me from going OOC. It's so easy to lose track of characterization if it's been too long since I watched an episode or read a chapter.

Hoo boy this got long. Thanks so much for the delightful ask! It was a lot of fun to dive into my own writing process and habits.

[punsmaster69]

11/FEB/20XX

got to practice my healing magic some more today as frisk continually papercut themselves during the construction of a heart garland.

"starting to wonder if that paper's red from paint or your 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 at this point, kiddo."

"I'm not bleeding 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 much."

frisk re-did a section they messed up from being cut, extra careful not to get sliced in the same way twice.

"so..."

"you just make these garland thingies for every holiday now, huh?"

turning to look at me, expression completely unchanged -

"Yes."

they answered confidently.

"..all right then."

they put glue around the edges of a paper heart and dipped it in glitter; repeating this process until they had however many shiny hearts they deemed 'enough'.

by this point, i'd already come to accept the glitter that was going to be everywhere forever.

that stuff doesn't come out of carpet well.

however, apparently me staring at the glitter going everywhere gave frisk a terrible idea.

"Hey, Sans. Look at me for a second."

i did.

i shouldn't have.

with a handful of glitter, frisk blew as hard as they could to coat my face in a glittery pink.

". . . ."

they couldn't stop laughing.

i took what i could off, eventually sure i had to have gotten most of it.

there was a knock at the door.

"Hello, Sans."

"I am here to pick Frisk up."

"Waitwaitwait, I'm almost done! Give me like five more minutes?"

"...Alright, five minutes it is."

"Me and Sans will be outside chatting in the meantime."

"Got it."

frisk sped up their paper-snipping.

"don't cut yourself again in the five minutes i'm not with you, ok?"

"I haven't cut myself THAT many times!"

"...."

".....Okay. I'll be more careful."

me and tori stepped just outside the door. the weather was just cool enough to still be pleasant.

she looked at me and started to say something before pausing.

"..Your eyesockets are looking quite glittery today!"

"."

"it's."

"it's still there??"

"If you mean-"

"the glitter."

"..Yes, it is."

"goddamn it."

"It is not a terrible look."

"thought i got all the glitter out. thought wrong, apparently."

"How did this happen, anyway?"

frisk would definitely get in trouble if i told toriel they blew glitter in my face.

i rejected that avenue of petty revenge.

"fell asleep without realizing i went face-first into the stuff."

"I see."

"If you are really so determined to remove it immediately, perhaps we could try some tape."

"worth a shot."

frisk looked confused when we re-entered the house.

"It hasn't been five minutes yet. It's been like... three and a half."

"I'm extending your time a bit."

"SICK! For how long?"

"..However long it takes to remove glitter from this skeleton's face."

"Oh."

tori poked around the room for some tape.

confused as to why they weren't being scolded, frisk gave me a questioning look.

"(didn't tell her.)"

"(Why?)"

"('s not a big deal, so why bother?)"

"(..Because you didn't want to bother.)"

"(yup.)"

"(Should've expected a lazy reason for it.)"

"If not here, where might you keep your tape?"

"oh, i think i had it in my room."

"..What for??"

i remembered taping things to a certain card.

"probably broke something. who knows."

"Alright then, I suppose."

"Is it alright if I go in your room?"

"yeah i- uhhhhh."

"actually, hold on."

opening and closing my door behind me, i looked around my room. no way in hell was i deep-cleaning the place, but kicking loose clothes under my bed and straightening the sheets a little was a start.

and by start i mean

"good enough."

then i opened the drawer that valentine's junk and the tape dispenser were sharing space in.

"ok, you can come in."

i kicked the drawer shut. tori entered and closed the door behind her. she looked around and inspected the bed for a moment.

"It is much nicer with a frame, is it not?"

"pretty cozy, i guess. still breaking that habit of flopping onto the floor though."

"Is that what that is for?"

pointing to a light i'd attached to the bottom of my bed.

"to remind me my bed's raised."

"Smart solution."

"May I?"

glancing at my bed.

"go ahead, but fair warning that my sheets'll probably make you smell of funky skeleton odor."

sitting down on the edge of my bed, she laughed.

"I do not mind 'skeleton odor'. Whatever it is that entails."

i sat down next to her.

"so, uh."

"you turnin' me into a tape mummy for this?"

motioning for me to turn around, toriel guided my head to her lap.

"...what's-"

tape was suddenly pressed into my left eye socket.

"....."

"no warning, huh?"

"Sorry. I figured you had understood where this was going."

"well i... certainly understand 𝘯𝘰𝘸."

the experience of having tape put 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 my sockets wasn't any less bizarre and slightly jarring than the experience having tape pulled 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 my sockets, but i think i'm pretty much glitter-free. at least she was more gentle from then on.

when we exited my room, i noticed frisk suddenly had headphones on. i tossed the ball of glitter-coated tape at their head to catch their attention. it bounced onto the carpet. they looked up and took off their headphones.

"Oh, you done making out?"

"Frisk! I was not 'making out' with Sans."

"she was helping me undo 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 mess, y'know."

"I thought you said you fell asleep in the glitter?"

"......"

frisk's face begged me not to tell. once again, i set aside the easy revenge.

"yeah, i did. anyway, you better take 'em home before they sparkle up the place any more."

frisk swept their paper and glitter mess into their bag and hopped up from the floor.

"Did you finish your creation, my child?"

proudly unraveling a glittery paper-heart string.

"Yup."

"It is very pretty! We can hang it up when we get home."

they swung up the front door and darted across the lawn to hop into tori's car.

toriel stopped for a moment, pausing to lock her eyes with mine. with a quick glance backwards to see where frisk was, she bent down a little to raise my hand to her lips.

"returnin' the favor?"

"It is only fair."

she gave a hopeful smile.

"You will visit me on the fourteenth, will you not?"

"..yeah. 'course i will."

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Seven!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

The sound of several horses’ hooves clip-clopping against the ground broke the natural quiet ambience of the canyon where Cub resided. There was no doubt that Cub could hear them approaching from quite some distance away, given the amount of noise four horses made, and he opened the door as the knights were dismounting. He did a quick headcount, gaze darting between each knight, before frowning. 

“There's only four of you. What happened?” 

Grian winced, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I think you might want to sit down for this. It's a bit of a long story.”

Cub raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he stood aside and beckoned the knights into his home. He put a hand out to stop Pearl before she could follow the other three in, gesturing to her wing. “Are you grounded?” he asked, a thousand other questions lingering in his gaze. 

Pearl pressed her lips together, nodding tersely. “I'll tell you more when we're explaining,” she promised. “It'll heal eventually,” she added at the end.

“That's a relief to hear.” Cub stepped aside to allow Pearl in, closing the door behind them. “Take a seat where you can find one, all of you. I'll get us all some tea while you're getting settled.” 

Grian sat down on the small bench near the window next to Pearl, gently bumping his shoulder against hers. “How are you doing?” he murmured, glancing at her wing. “Stitches holding up well? Any pain?” 

Pearl gave him a tired smile that didn't quite match the anxious look in her eyes. “I haven't given myself enough time to think about it,” she answered vaguely, and Grian frowned. “I'll be fine, Griba. I promise.”

Grian's gaze darkened, and he clenched his hands into fists, staring down at his lap. “About earlier, when–”

“I don't want to talk about that,” Pearl bit out, leftover panic from the memory of that close call seeping into her voice. “It's too soon. And there are more important things to focus on right now. Impulse's well-being and whereabouts, for example.”

Grian sighed softly, but didn't press the matter. He simply wrapped a wing around Pearl, as a comfort to the both of them. He could've lost her forever. If he had been any slower, if they'd arrived a second later, if he hadn't been strong enough to catch her and fly back up…

If Pearl had died, Grian wasn't sure what he would've done. Would grief have overwhelmed him? Would he have hovered, numb, unable to process what had just happened? Would anger have swept through him like the river swept through that ravine? 

Would he have killed Impulse in a blind rage? 

Grian swallowed, finding that he was suddenly fighting back tears. Now that there was a moment to sit and reflect, the fear from earlier and the overwhelming grief from even the possibility he could've lost his sister crashed into him at full force. 

It was stupid. He wasn't even the one who could've died. Pearl was fine, she was sitting right next to him and she was breathing and she was injured but she was alive, and Grian let out a soft trill. 

He felt Pearl place one of her hands over his and lightly flutter her wings. “I'm here, Griba,” she whispered, and squeezed his hand gently. 

“Thank the void for that,” Grian responded, “I don't know what I would do…” Without you. 

Pearl shrugged. “Well, for one, you'd make an absolute mess of the storage system,” she joked, and Grian fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I can't trust any of you around those chests.”

Though she joked, Pearl's mind was still weighed down by what had occured just hours earlier. She could've died. Of course, it wasn't like she had never had a near death experience before– everyone had near death experiences at least once, it was a part of life!– but none by falling. 

Would she ever truly feel safe flying again?

Pearl knew some avians who had fallen while flying. Most didn't survive. Many considered those who did to be the unlucky ones. Avians who fell and lived to tell the tale lost faith in their wings. The first rule of flight is trust, and falling shatters that trust completely. Unable to trust their wings to carry them and hold them in the air, the unfortunate few that Pearl had known developed an unnatural fear of heights. The connection they had with the sky snapped like a rubber band stretched too far, and they began to prefer the ground and even the water. Avians who fell often never flew again, and a grounded avian…

There had been screaming. Screaming, and blood, and feathers. And she hadn't been strong enough to pull them up. And they had refused to fly. They wouldn't. They couldn't. 

They had said they'd run. And… 

Well. Evolution had gifted them wings for a reason. 

Pearl tried not to think about it too hard. She was fine. She would fly again, when her wound healed. Besides, she was more than proficient enough to defend herself while she was stuck on the ground. She would be fine. 

She had to be. For the knights. For everyone who depended on her. She wouldn't fail. Not again. Not ever again.

Mumbo and Scar sat down at the wooden table, Mumbo fidgeting nervously and glancing around the room. Scar couldn't even bring himself to attempt to lighten the mood, weighed down by the situation as he was. He clasped his hands together on the table and stared down at them, lost in his own thoughts. 

Was this his fault? 

He should've known something was wrong. He had known something was wrong. Impulse had come to him, reached out and spoken with him, and Scar had done his best. He had tried his gosh darn hardest to help Impulse. He thought he had been doing pretty well!

Clearly not, though, given he'd somehow missed the literal demon inhabiting Impulse's mind. Sure, he'd known something was off, but he had never expected that. To be fair, neither had any of the other knights, but still. 

“I don't think you could've done much.” Mumbo's voice broke into Scar's thoughts, and he startled slightly in his chair. “Oh– sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Scar shrugged. “Don't worry about it. You're fine. How'd you know what I was thinkin', anyway?”

Mumbo gave him a nervous smile. “You're pretty easy to read, mate. No offense.”

“None taken.” 

“I just–” Mumbo wrang his hands together, looking away. “I'm thinking the same thing, really. I mean, we knew something– Impulse was struggling, we all saw that, and I just…” He sighed. “I think that whatever is going on with Impulse, we wouldn't have been able to fix. Not with what we knew. I mean, we still barely know what's going on with Impulse. Just that it's not really…”

“Him,” Scar finished, nodding solemnly. 

Mumbo had been thinking. He usually was stuck in his head, lost deep in his thoughts. But this time, it was… different. No longer was his head filled with theories and speculations, or possibilities for new redstone inventions. No, now he was stuck on thinking about himself, and just how weak he was. 

Would he be strong enough to stand against Impulse, should it come down to that?

Not only was Impulse much stronger than him physically, but Mumbo wasn't exactly the strongest in terms of mental fortitude either. He knew that whatever had tried to kill Pearl wasn't Impulse. But it looked like Impulse, and sounded like Impulse, and Mumbo could hardly even bring himself to hurt something that didn't resemble his friends. 

He hoped that he wouldn't end up becoming a burden for the rest of his team. If he lost his place among the knights, Mumbo didn't know what he'd do. He had no home to go back to, after all. He supposed he could just wander. Sell his inventions. Likely die a stupid death because he was too nervous to kill a mob. 

What a lovely thing to think about!

Cub handed out warm cups of tea to the knights, keeping one for himself as he pulled out the chair at his desk and turned it to face the knights, settling down in the chair carefully. “Alright.” He set down his cup of tea on the desk and adjusted his glasses, looking around at the knights. “Who wants to start?”

Scar sat up straighter. “I will. Remember when I told you we thought the whole thing with Impulse had fixed itself? The sleeplessness and everything. It… came back?” He frowned. “Sort of, but not really, I guess.”

Cub nodded. “I see, I see. Can you expand more on that?”

Scar looked down at his tea. “So, he was sleepwalking, and I guess…” he glanced over at Grian. “I don't really know what happened?”

Grian held his cup in his hands, blowing softly on the hot liquid to cool it. “And I… I woke up one night and just felt something so wrong, and dangerous, like someone was trying to kill me. And I may have slightly freaked out.”

“And that's how I got injured,” Pearl continued. “He attacked Impulse and I just…” She shrugged. “It was an accident, but after what happened today, I think things may be a little more connected than we thought.”

Cub frowned. “What happened?”

Pearl took in a deep breath, and Grian noticed how she tensed up ever so slightly. He wrapped his wing a little tighter around her for a moment as a gentle reassurance. “Impulse asked to speak with me alone. I went with him into the forest. For a long time, we just walked in silence. I'm not even sure if he really knew where he was leading me.” She paused. “We got to the ravine, and Impulse and I sat down. That's when he told me he wanted to leave the knights.”

Grian shot her a confused glance, and Mumbo and Scar shared a concerned look. “What? You didn't mention that.” 

“It slipped my mind,” Pearl murmured. “After he told me that, he got really panicky. Totally freaked out, questioning why he led me here. He stood up and began to back away from me.” Her voice trembled. “I thought he was going to fall off the edge and into the ravine. I thought he was going to die.” She took a sip of her tea to calm herself, relaxing as warmth spread through her chest.

Cub hummed softly. “But that didn't happen?” 

Pearl shook her head. “I reached out to him and pulled him back. And…” she laughed softly, in the way that spoke of held back tears. “And he pushed me off, instead. I somehow managed to grab onto the edge, and I saw that his eyes… his eyes were red. When he spoke, he didn't sound like himself either.” She paused for a moment, frowning. “It was his own voice, but there was something else to it. Some deeper undertone, some warped sound– I don't know. But he slammed his foot down on my hands and I fell.” 

Cub's eyes widened slightly as he gasped softly. “Oh, Pearl…” He shook his head sympathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

“I caught her,” Grian added on quickly, “we'd been following them– we knew something was off.”

“I went vex and pinned Impulse down. Cub, man, the moment I went vex I could smell it.” Scar shuddered at the memory. “The magic. It was so wrong. It had to have been the cause of everything that had been happening.” He flexed his hands, glancing down at them. “And whatever it is, it's strong. Cub, I couldn't do anything.”

Cub grabbed a book from the pile on his desk and began leafing through the pages, searching for something in particular. “I getcha, man. I getcha.” He paused on one of the pages and quickly scanned it. “With the information you've all given me, I think I know what we're dealing with.” 

Grian's eyes widened, feathers rustling as he leaned forward slightly. “You do? What is it? How do we beat it?”

“Without doing too much harm to Impulse,” Pearl added on.

“Preferably none!” Mumbo piped up, setting down his tea, “to either party. I mean, that's probably not going to happen, really.”

Cub took a deep breath and started to read from the page. “Blood curse demons are one of the most dangerous types of demons. Taking payment in blood, these demons are incredibly difficult to get rid of without some type of sacrifice, be it the summoner or someone else.” He lifted his gaze momentarily. “That's not all, unfortunately.” 

“That already sounds pretty bad,” Pearl commented, “you're telling me there's something worse?”

Cub nodded, going back to reading. “One blood curse demon in particular made itself notorious in parts of the overworld due to the strength of the demon and frequency of the occurrence. In all recorded cases, it was impossible to remove the demon without death. In my other book, The Art of Summoning - Demons, I discuss this demon and it's curse in more detail, but the most important parts bear repeating.” He paused, flipping the page. “When the demon is in control of the summoner's body, the eyes of the summoner are known to turn red. Those afflicted by the curse are known to sleepwalk, and will always feel exhausted no matter how much they sleep. The afflicted are more prone to acts of violence and sudden bloodlust directed toward those close to them. As the curse progresses, the bloodlust will grow stronger until finally, they attempt to kill someone. If the afflicted is not successful in taking the life of another in a certain amount of time, they will take their own life.

This curse is known as the Boogey curse, and the afflicted have been commonly referred to as the Boogeyman.” 

Silence fell over the room as the information settled heavy on their minds. The knights shared concerned and scared glances, not quite knowing what to say in response to that. 

Mumbo swallowed thickly. “So… you're telling us it's impossible to save Impulse?”

Scar leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “If it truly comes down to it, I would be more than willing to–”

Grian stood up suddenly, fury burning in his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “No one is going to be sacrificing themselves. There are other solutions.” He turned to look at Cub, and the anger melted into desperation. “There have to be.”

Cub looked up at Grian with a guilty, pained expression. “With lesser demons, it's possible to force them out by flooding the afflicted's body with magic. The amount of magic required to force this demon out of Impulse would be extraordinary. Even Scar and I, at our best, wouldn't have enough. It's why there are no recorded cases of this particular demon being expelled without casualties.”

“What about the fae?” Scar asked, “if we make a deal with them–”

Cub's gaze turned cold. “And for what, Scar? What would you offer them when they ask you to pay the price?”

Scar went silent. 

Grian and Pearl shared a look, one that spoke of shared secrets yet to be revealed. For a moment, their eyes met, and they made a decision as one. 

Pearl stood. “There's something we need to show you all.” 

Grian slipped out the door in front of her, Pearl gesturing to the rest of the knights and Cub to follow them. Despite their audible confusion, Mumbo and Scar stood and followed Grian. Cub took a moment to bookmark his page and set the book back on the desk before following the rest. They gathered in a semicircle, with Pearl and Grian standing in front of them. 

Grian looked over at Pearl. “Pearlie, can you…?” He gestured vaguely to his back, and Pearl nodded, going behind him to undo the extra buttons Grian always insisted on having on his shirts. 

Scar crossed his arms. “I know I'm one to talk, but this hardly seems like the appropriate time to be taking your clothes off, G.”

Grian's face turned red as Pearl stifled a giggle. “Oh, Scar, that's not–!” He spluttered for a moment. “I'm not taking critique from a man who keeps making me patch up his chest wounds.”

Scar raised his eyebrows, smirking. “Oh, you enjoy looking at my–”

“That's enough, ya goofs,” Pearl interrupted, finishing with the buttons. “I don't want to dampen the mood, but unfortunately this is a bit… serious.” She took her original place beside Grian. “Do you want to explain at all, or…?”

Grian gave her a tired smile. “When have I ever explained anything?”

Magic swirled like wind around the two avians, and dark scales like small shards of the void began to coalesce around the two. Like puzzle pieces coming together to make a picture, the scales formed shapes– limbs, made of sparkling void and magic. 

For Grian, it was wings that extended from the slits in the back of his shirt. Wings that stretched toward the sky, cut out from the infinite void that stretched below the world. The darkness of the void seeped into his colorful feathers, dyeing them pitch black. Once his new pair of wings were complete, the void shattered like glass and faded away, leaving behind black wings that looked exactly like the other pair. Exactly like a normal pair of wings, except for the fact that eyes of different shapes and sizes now decorated his feathers.

For Pearl, it was arms that slipped through the thin slits in the sides of her shirt. Like with Grian's wings, her new limbs looked to be made of void until they were complete– and then the void shattered, leaving behind normal looking arms. The shards of void didn't fade like they had with Grian, though. They went to her eyes, and when she opened them, it was as though they'd been replaced by the void. Her wings and feathery antennae were also dyed black just as Grian's had been.

As the whirlwind of magic ceased, and wings black as the eternal night stretched toward the sky, the other three looked up in fear and awe. For a moment that stretched on for what felt like centuries, there was silence.

“Holy shit.” Cub was the first to speak, eyes shining as he examined the two siblings. “You're–”

“Watchers,” Grian finished, “yes. Please don't freak out.”

“It was his idea,” Pearl murmured, trying to shade her now ink-black eyes from the sun, “I just followed along. I promised I would make sure he wasn't going to get himself killed. You know how it is.”

Scar stepped back, giving both Grian and Pearl a once-over. “Huh. You know, I thought that Watchers would be taller. All that magic, and they couldn't even give you a couple extra inches?”

That seemed to break the tension lingering on the moment, and Pearl giggled, relaxing. Mumbo broke his silence to laugh as well, nodding. “He's right, mate. For a being that's supposed to be a super myth, you're still super short.” 

Grian's jaw dropped. “I am perfectly fine with my height, Scar! Mumbo!” he protested, “and I could still take you out even though I'm shorter!”

Cub's eyes were shining as he took a step forward. “But extra limbs, and eyes? Can you see from those eyes, what's it like? Do they retain the same function? Does the time spent hidden affect them? How–?”

“It's really bright out,” Pearl muttered, looking incredibly uncomfortable with that fact. As a moth hybrid, her eyes normally were more sensitive to light. As a Watcher, they were even more so. 

Grian raised one of his wings to hover over Pearl, shading her from the sun. “Yes, we can see from the eyes. Our eyes are light sensitive. We can use them to see magic, the people around us, pretty much anything nearby. And, uh…” He glanced at Pearl. “I dunno about Pearl, but my wings are fine when I bring them out, they don't get weaker or anything. I haven't really thought about what happens to them when we switch forms.”

“You can't really think too hard about all this super magical stuff,” Pearl added on, “or you're going to give yourself a headache. Trust me. And my arms are the same as Grian's wings. They don't lose any mobility or anything.”

Mumbo tentatively reached out and poked one of Pearl's arms. “Oh, that's fascinating,” he breathed, before looking up at Pearl. “Sorry! Should've asked. My bad.”

Pearl laughed softly, shaking her head. “You're fine, mate.”

Grian gave Mumbo a slight smile, before looking back over at Cub and Scar. “I'm sure you know about the Watchers and their magical capabilities.”

“Of course!” Cub exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Even individually, Watchers were said to have an incredible amount of magical energy– that's the reason for the extra limbs and eyes, right? Your magical energy increases when you transform, so it manifests in more ways. Oh, that's incredible, man!” 

Pearl let out a breathy laugh. “Well, thank you? I'm glad you're not all freaked out about this. It's certainly a little… weird.”

Grian nodded. “You probably have a ton of questions, but we'll have time to answer them later. After we save Impulse. Like Cub said, Pearl and I have a ton of magic in us. If anyone's going to be able to get the demon out of Impulse, it's us.” His eyes were full of steely determination as he spoke, and he could only hope he sounded as confident as he was trying to be. This would work. It had to. 

“Griba and I will be able to find Impulse now that we know what we're looking for,” Pearl explained, “so that makes achieving our goal much easier, since we won't have to worry about tracking him down. The hard part is going to be getting Im– the demon– to stick around long enough for us to finish casting the spell.” 

Grian had always been better at watching than she had. He always found what he was looking for much more easily than Pearl– she had told herself that was why he was able to be so unorganized. But Pearl had always been better at the magical aspect, more in tune with the ebb and flow of the magic around her than Grian was. They were both proficient enough in casting individually, but together? And against another magical force that would be actively fighting against them? Pearl would be lying if she said she didn't have any worries or doubts about this plan. 

But there was too much at stake. If either Grian or Pearl faltered, or if they didn't have enough magic, or if anything went wrong, someone would die. There was no room for self doubt or error when lives hung in the balance. They would likely only get one chance to succeed at this. Pearl tried not to let her hands visibly shake. She couldn't let herself be scared. Not now. 

Scar grinned. “Oh, don't you worry! Me and Mumbo here will help with that. We need to pull our own weight, after all! Can't just let you and Grian do all the hard work!” Despite the confident persona that he so often displayed, there was an unusual darkness in his eyes. Like storm clouds stretching across the sky, casting the lush forest into shadow. 

Mumbo squeaked, turning on his heel to look at Scar. “We– we will? Are you sure about that, mate?” His voice trembled noticeably as he spoke. “How– I can't really do much, you know, I'm potato boy. Not– not much of a fighter.”

Scar slung an arm around Mumbo's shoulders. “Ah, ah, ah! You are still a valuable addition to the team! Besides, you know how to fight! You don't need to win, just keep him busy! I'll be there too, so you won't be fighting alone.”

Mumbo chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I… I guess! I guess that's that, then!” 

Grian nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan. Once I get a pin on Impulse's location, we'll prepare and head out as soon as possible. When we get to him, Scar and Mumbo will keep the demon occupied while Pearl and I cast the spell. And then…”

“We save Impulse,” Pearl finished, taking her brother's hand. “Then we go home. And rest. And talk.” She smiled wearily at Grian. “See? Isn't coming up with a plan much better than just flying away while injured and getting kidnapped?”

Both Grian and Scar winced, though their laughter was reassurance that they weren't really hurt by that comment. “You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?” Grian asked, sighing when Pearl shook her head. “Right. Well, it's going to take me a moment to locate Impulse and everything, so start getting ready to leave.” He pulled his hand away from Pearl's, and closed his mortal eyes. Spreading his wings slightly, other eyes all over the black appendages began to open as Grian began his search. 

Scar and Mumbo's eyes were glued to the sight, wide in awe. “Amayzin',” Scar breathed. 

“It's certainly something,” Mumbo agreed, his voice a hushed whisper.

Cub watched for a moment, in awe, before he turned to Pearl. “I have something for you.” He hurried back into the house, leaving the door slightly open. He came back out just a few moments later, carrying something wrapped in cloth. “For your wing.” 

Pearl took the bundle and unwrapped it, staring at the contents for a moment before looking up at Cub. “You're kidding. You don't actually– Cub, this is so hard to get!” She carefully ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the potion, gazing at the slightly glowing liquid. “This can't actually be…”

Cub smiled slightly. “A regen pot? You bet. It's the real thing– I brewed it myself. Just… I want to be able to help you all more. If I had been able to catch what was going on with Impulse sooner, then…”

Pearl shook her head. “Cub, mate, you've done so much for us. You've helped so much! We'd be lost without you!” Eyes as black and endless as the night sky met light green– like fields of grass in the bright summer sun, compared to the forest green of Scar's eyes. “Cub, really. Thank you so much. I…” She paused. “I don't want to get all teary on you. So, just… thank you. Thank you.” 

Cub's gaze softened, and he nodded. “Of course, man. Of course. Take that potion, okay? It might feel a little weird, but I'm sure you know that already.”

Pearl carefully uncorked the potion before quickly downing the liquid, wincing from the bitter taste. “Oh, that does not get better the more you do it–” She cut herself off with a soft hiss, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “That sure works quick!” 

Cub laughed, taking the now empty potion bottle and cloth back from Pearl. “They're sought-after items for a reason. You should be good to take those bandages off now. And…” His voice became more serious. “...good luck. I'll see you, all five of you, soon.”

Pearl could only nod as she began to remove the bandages from her wing. Suddenly, a thought came to her. “Hey, Cub? Do you know who wrote that book you were reading? The demon one.”

Cub's brow furrowed as he thought back. “I'm not sure… I think he used a pseudonym? M. Saus, I think it was. Not many people know of him because of how little he wrote, and because he only ever wrote about demons. I remember reading something in the author's note at the beginning– something about an unfortunate experience with a demon when he was younger? I dunno. He's probably long dead by now.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Pearl hummed thoughtfully. “No reason. I was just curious. Thanks, Cub.”

“No problem, man. I'll be right back.” Cub disappeared back into his house, probably to put the empty potion bottle away. 

Not a moment later, the rustling of feathers broke Grian's extended silence. He slowly lowered his wings, letting them rest behind him as he opened his mortal eyes. “Found him,” he announced to the knights. “Get ready. We're leaving now.” 

There was an anxious air hanging around the knights as they quickly readied their horses for the trip. Pearl reverted back to her normal form so as not to spook her horse and to give her sensitive eyes a rest, but Grian decided to stay in his Watcher form for a while longer. Just in case something happened, so he'd be able to sense it. Scar made light idle conversation with Mumbo, knowing how the other knight would get overly anxious if he wasn't distracted. 

Cub stepped back outside, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “You're all heading out, then?” he asked, humming softly when he got confirmation from Scar. “I'll see you all soon, then. And good luck.”

Grian mounted his horse, settling himself in the saddle. “Thanks, Cub. You'll hear from us, one way or another.” 

“I'll keep the side room open if you need. Come here if any of you get seriously injured.” Cub looked between all the knights. “I don't trust any of you– other than Pearl, that is– with looking after yourselves. If I don't hear from any of you in two weeks, I'm assuming the worst.” Despite the light hearted tone he kept in his voice, his eyes were full of concern. 

“Why does everyone always trust Pearl?” Grian complained, mostly to himself. “When I first met her, she had just crash landed. That's not responsible behavior, if you ask me–”

Pearl smacked him with her wing, and Grian nearly fell off his horse. 

Cub locked eyes with Scar. “And you, mister. I want you to promise me you'll come back. That you'll be safe. That you won't do anything unnecessarily dangerous, or sacrificial!”

“Of course I will!” Scar exclaimed. “You have my word. Vex's honor.”

Cub snorted, rolling his eyes. “Vex's honor? I'll hold you to it, man.” His smile dropped slightly. “One more thing. I want you to remember…” He stepped forward, laying a hand on Scar's arm and lowering his voice. “You are in control. Not the vex. You do not need to fear that side of you.” 

Scar's face was unreadable for a moment, before he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Right. Yeah. Of course. No fear. None.” He glanced up at the other knights before looking back down at Cub. “I'll be back. I promise. And I'll bring Impulse with me.”

Cub smiled. “Good.”

The sun began its descent in the sky as the knights rode out, led by Grian. 

–

His head–

Oh, void. 

It hurt. Everything hurt. He was– he was dying, he had to be, his head hurt so much.

Five things, he needed to calm down, five things he could–

He couldn't see

His vision

blurred he couldn't–

Blood.

There was blood 

on his hands, it wasn't, his

He remembered 

A rabbit. 

Thrashing in his hands, and he–

No. No, no no no no

His head. His head hurt. 

He snapped its neck he killed it the demon–

Sleep, little mortal, or insanity will take your mind.

Impulse...

drifted.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Edit thread story of the NDA helping take care of a fever stricken Yuma~ 🌡️

“You’re such a handful… Come. Let’s head back to the agency for you to recuperate.”

Halara escorts a very dizzy Yuma back to base safely lending him their shoulder to lean on. Making sure no Peacekeepers can mess with them. The bright lights of the city aren’t helping his throbbing headache so his eyes remain shut. Halara also picked up the supplies needed from Kanai's shops. (spending their own money in the process no less) They’re still not used to touching Yuma yet so they feel a bit awkward. 💦

“Yuma you’re burning up. And you’re shaking like a leaf. Go sit down and I’ll go and get you a blanket.”

Upon return and Halara’s explanation, Yakou walks over and checks Yuma’s temperature (with the back of his hand) He’s burning and shivering from the fever induced chills. He quickly ushers him to sit down on the sofa he sleeps on. Then he lets him borrow the blanket from his own bed to keep warm. 🧣

"Yuma are you okay? Here, let's check your temperature..."

When Yuma sits down wrapped in Yakou's blanket gripping it tightly still shivering, Kurumi sits right beside him. Although Yakou already checked for a fever, she worries deeply for his state and insists on taking a device reading of his body temperature, using the thermometer Halara bought. When the device is inserted, it turns out to be about 39 degrees (102 degrees f) 🌡️🥵

“Alright Yuma, here's your medicine. Open up, my man. Down the hatch.”

After Kurumi leaves temporarily, Desuhiko sits next to Yuma. He's told by Yakou to give him the liquid medicine that Halara bought earlier. It was a strong fever reducer. After some hesitation, he finally takes it. But it was very strong and bitter. He didn’t like it very much 💀💊

“Here Yuma, I was told that warm soup is always the best if you don’t feel well! This should help to heal you!”

Fubuki cooks and feeds Yuma some nice hot soup from the ingredients that were bought. (Kurumi helps her make it) Even if he doesn’t finish it all, he still enjoys how warm it is with what little he does eat 🥣 It was warm enough to stop his body from shivering.

“This fever is… persistent… What a pain… I wanna die someday…”

Vivia rests in the dark with Yuma after everyone works on cooling him off with ice water. (and ice) due to his fever suddenly spiking later in the night. (rising to nearly 103) So Vivia stays with him until he’s stable. They both end up falling asleep, and Vivia places his cool hand against Yuma’s warm hand. 🤝 They remain this way through the night.

"Sheesh Master, you're so pathetic... Don't worry me like that again. I thought you were a goner for sure..."

Yuma wakes up the next morning with his fever finally broken. Shinigami lays beside him with her ghostly hand over him as if she was hugging him. She mutters something under her breath, and he hears every word. He smiles placing his hand to her form, even though he can't feel it. 👻

He couldn't have been more thankful to have such kind friends

Maybe even a family 💕

~

Yeah, I just wanted to make another edit scenario where the nocturnal found family agency takes care of their frail lil’ trainee needing some help 😷

A different scenario from what happened in my sickfic but similar enough 💕

I love this family so much 🥰 They are perfect.

(Quite happy with how these came out)

[golden-eye-ramblings]

Moore Tomato Headcanon Dump Part 1

Yea ok so I caved this was an inevitably, I need to join in on this. Mashle gives me crumbs so I make bread with it(also sorry no cool gif of Moore he shows up like 3-4 times but you can still admire his handsome face)

----

Moore Tomato

Height: 6ft/184cm

Age: 18

Birthdate: August 9th

Sign: Leo

Gender: Uhhhh??(Agender he hates labels)

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Demiromantic Pansexual(<- he doesn't know the name of these he's purely going off of vibes)

• Likes rock music. Has a record player in his dorm and one at home so he can play his favorite bands

• He is also in a band! It's your typical 4-person garage rock band he started with his friends. He's not entirely committed, but he still shows up for practice(he is actually really good at playing guitar but he downplays his music skills hard)

• Favorite food is tomatoes... Yes he is aware of the very obvious joke.

• He also often prefers being called by his first name than his surname. For obvious reasons. Mr. Tomato isn't a name to be taken seriously...

• Often teased as House Lang's mascot(wolf wulfes joke here). Hates it. Because they don't know how true they actually hit the mark(put a pin in this and stick it in ur brain we're coming back to this later)

• Son of Mr and Mrs Tomato and is the eldest of 5 siblings. The Tomato Family Tree is extensive...

• Moore's family is quite the rowdy bunch, well known beast tamers with their unique summoning bloodline magic Wulfes. Well known for using "pack tactics" in order to subjugate magical creatures.

• Each Wulf is unique to each corresponding member of the family, size varies as well depending on magic aptitude and hierarchy status within the family. With Mama Tomato's Wulf being the largest and strongest with Moore's coming in second.

• The Wulf Bloodline Magic originally was a curse. Though with each generation, that curse eventually was twisted and evolved into the wulfes magic known within the family today. Unfortunately, for Moore, that curse eventually circled back to him.(aha see it circles back)

• Moore is cursed with lycanthropy. During every full moon, he will transform into a werewolf. It is an incredibly painful and terrifying process, as his body will actually physically change. Aching joints and bones growing and breaking and healing, muscles tearing and mending, fur and hair growing. Actually feeling his intelligence and awareness dwindle. Worst yet, he will not remember a single thing he does whenever he transforms.

• He often treats this condition of his as a form of chronic illness. There's not much he can do about it, no known cure as far as he's aware of. So he kinda has to deal with it every time it happens. He becomes irritable and moody whenever a full moon is coming up, so he often pays a visit to the nurse so they can help deal with his transformations. On the days he cannot make it to the nurse however, he often just fucks off to the woods and prays he doesn't get lost when the following morning comes.

• Very few people know of his condition. That being select members of staff, his family and those he considers to be extremely close friends.

• Comparatively to most other known Lang students, Moore is known to be the most... Approachable, despite his rather blasé disposition. While not nearly as ambitious, he still very much prides himself in his abilities. when it comes to succeeding his goals all on his own without the use of underhanded tricks or a sense of crude superiority over others(or whatever the fuck was happening in the Magia Lupus he doesn't wanna be associated at all with that mess). He is extremely independent and rarely asks for help, making him a bit of the odd one out given how tight knit/close his family is(insert wolf pack joke here).

• After the events of the Divine Visonary Exams, Moore found himself spending more time with that Adler student he teamed up with during the trials... Hmm...

[anneapocalypse]

My eternal biggest struggles in FFXIV--and really in any game, but it matters way more when you're playing with other people--are visual perception and by extension reaction time. I have figured out just from talking to other people about how they perceive things that I simply do not process visual information as quickly or comprehensively as some people do. If I am focusing on one part of the screen I am not seeing what's happening in the other corner. When I'm looking at the party list I am not seeing my hotbar. When I'm looking at my hotbar I am not seeing the boss's cast bar. And so forth. The ability that most people seem to have to just absorb all or most of the information on their screen just by looking? I don't have that. I have to constantly, consciously be scanning all the places where I know there's important information. It is not automatic.

Which means that unless I know to look for a specific tell--like a specific cast or a symbol over my character's head--there is a good chance I just will not see it. I hesitate to even explain this to people because it sounds like I'm making excuses or not paying attention when I say "I just didn't see it." But it doesn't matter how much I'm paying attention if I don't know what I'm looking for. I will not process it, which is functionally the same as not seeing it.

And I can learn, is the thing. I know to watch for Ancient Flare in Labyrinth of the Ancients. I know that in Shadowbringers onward, where you'll get strings of really unforgiving, rapid-fire AOEs, that it's better to focus on getting myself to safety and sacrifice a heal or two and then do damage control when they let up, than to miss an AOE because I was trying to heal, and die and force another player to interrupt their rotation to rez me. It just takes practice, and there are things I won't get on the first run, no matter how hard I try.

I do care about playing my job well. I watch guides. I practice. I do my best to learn, because I love the game and it's satisfying to play well, especially as a healer--I want to be the kind of healer that when I'm in the party, you know I've got you, that if you mess up I'll catch you, and it'll be fine. Playing a support role well is very, very satisfying and rewarding to me! And so none of the above means I'm not going to do my best, or that I'm not trying to be better.

I don't get better from people yelling at me or calling me stupid. I get flustered, I lose my flow, I blank out on things that actually are obvious. I get worse.

And the all-or-nothing attitudes from that small but real subset of veteran players is just utterly discouraging. "Either you're playing your job correctly or you're sabotaging." "There are no non-obvious mechanics in regular duties." It reads to me as "Be perfect on the first try or go fuck yourself." That is a standard I will literally never be able to meet. And I'm not saying "poor me," that's not my point. Somehow I doubt that it's a standard the majority of players are able to meet--based on my own experiences playing with sprouts in many, many roulettes.

Everyone has to start somewhere. Everyone learns differently, perceives differently, no matter how rigid the rotation of their job, no matter how "obvious" the mechanics. And for someone else who's struggling I would much rather be the person who gave them a better experience in the game than the person who gave them a shittier one. I don't want to be the person who makes someone quit trying to learn tanking for six months (as someone did to me). If you need to vent about how someone sucks, fine, do it in private. And even then, you know, maybe consider how you talk about it and to whom. Are your comments going to be the reason someone in your linkshell is terrified of learning a new role? Or the reason they're excited to try?

Personally I would rather come out of a duty with a party that struggled a bit but pressed on being kind and helping and encouraging one another and celebrated victory together, than leave someone never wanting to play again.

[slayingqueenchal]

two of hearts, the prank, and the moon | remus lupin x f!reader

Summary : you were apart of the prank, but in the process, you turned into a werewolf but now remus hates you (and sirius)

Warning : angst, happy ending, pet names like 'love'

"Severus!" James screamed, immediately pulling him out of the shrieking shack, but in the process, turning into a human. You and sirius looked at each other. You two messed up.

Remus came howling at the two boys, and running to them. Sirius tried to use his wand but, nothing worked.

James was your bestfriend, although severus was not, you didn't want him to die, so, you did the unthinkable and the most stupid thing in the world.

You thought that if you stood in front of the two, James and severus would be alright, and, you were right, they were alright but, you'll need to pay for it. "REMUS,NO! " James screamed.

That was the last thing you heard other than dog barks, rat sounds, and severus's heavy breathing. That was the last thing you heard before you woke up in the hospital wing.

"Y/n? " Sirius puts his hat down. "Y/n, y/n? You're awake! " Sirius smiled. Though his eyes were a bit dark, he looks happier than ever.

"What happened, siri? " You opened your eyes thoroughly, looking at the bright lanterns around. "Our prank didnt end well, and, i-i think this will be a shock, I think I should tell you after you heal" Sirius Stuttered, his eyes not daring to see yours.

"Tell me, Sirius, it's remus isn't it? He hates me, he hates us right now" You sighed. But to your suprise, Sirius shook his head "way worse than that.. That night, you tried to protect James and severus, and you did, but, well, remus, this isn't remus, but it is remus, remus is not remus when he turns into a werewolf but remus just-"

"Sirius, stop, just tell me" You pulled your blanket, eager to know what Sirius was gonna tell you. "Remus, or, his wolf self, bit you, but, you won't feel it right now, madam pomfrey gave you a lot of painkillers and spells". Suddenly, you didn't want to know.

From that day on, you were a werewolf.

"Does remus know? " You asked, "no" Sirius shrieked. "Does the others know, including Severus? ", " Yes, but, Severus swore not to tell anyone" Sirius said.

"Is remus okay? " You asked, again, Sirius replied "no, not quite" He paused "he's physically alright, but mentally.. Not so alright. Hes been going crazy, talking shit about us, but, we deserve it, well I deserve it, and, don't be surprised if he doesn't want to talk to you for awhile"

Your stomach dropped. You did the wrong thing but, you thought, remus, your best friend, who, you've been flirting with for years, and what you thought was liking each other, hates you now.

"Y/n? " Sirius said. "Sorry, that was just a lot to take in"

From that day forward, you hated yourself more than anything. Most of all, you hated yourself for thinking youre still allowed to love remus and you hate your self for loving remus, after the things he had said.

It was as if the full moon was close for, everyday. Remus became an asshole and a sweetheart. But for you and Sirius, he became an absolute asshole. You hated it. You still have a soft spot for him. You still hanged out with the same friends, and slowly it was turning.. Unbareable.

Everyone slowly starts to disappear, Sirius barely being there, remus talking shit and flirting with other girls, which, is fine but, you've had enough.

So slowly, you drifted away from everything, staying in your dorm longer, and what was so unlikely was being friends with Severus.

"You swear you won't tell anyone, about remus, and my condition" You asked. "I won't, and, why do you care so much about remus now, I've seen or, well, everyone has seen, remus has been a git towards you" Severus said.

"Well, I've never really had a friend like him, well, Severus, how about we make wolfsbane" You gave a small smile. "Let's make it then, attempt number 7,i think this is it" Severus smiled.

In the process of making wolfsbane, remus was not having it at all.

Remus scoots over to his bed in the common room. "Didn't know why I'd care for such a bitch anyways" Remus scoffed. "Moony, everyone here knows you don't mean that, you'll never say something like that about y/n" Sirius said, only receiving a shrug.

"Hey, you know sirius's right" James said. "Really? Cause she certainly made me think that I had to pack up and leave Hogwarts. " Remus rolled his eyes. "You know, we're slowly losing and missing her, and, she's know friends with Severus" Peter said. "Pete, I don't care about her, I don't care if she's friends with him".

"Rem, what happened to 'I love her'? " Sirius asked. Everyone's eyes on him, remus replied "w-well I won't say that has changed but, she for sure has changed".

"Moony, y/n loves you and you need to talk to her, the girl has been running like a lost cat searching for its owner, everyday the only thing she asks was if your were okay, if you wanted to talk to her, if-if you knew-" James said, but was cut off by Sirius "that's enough".

"Continue, James". " I can't" James say, but remus forced him to. "That night, she, she tried to protect us, but- it's not your fault but, you accidentally bit her,"

"What? " Remus said, his heart beating faster, his palms were wet, and his faces suddenly becomes pale. Everything became slow. "No, no, how long have you guys- guys knew- know this" Remus was so shooked and scared that, he was not talking proper English anymore.

"Ever since she got bit, Peter, Sirius, Severus and I know, and, she told us not to tell you, and that, it was because you kept avoiding her and talk shit about her that she became friends with the slytherins, because- she felt like a first year to.. To like you, and she hated herself for it, and she said that she felt more like a fan than a friend, and that, Peter, Sirius and I should keep a distance between her and us, she said that, if she keeps hanging out with us, she might mess up even more" Now James weren't even sure he was using the correct grammar or not.

"But, what? She likes me?, and she turned? She, she, where's y/n, I need to talk to her" Remus stood up from his bed, catching the map that Sirius throwed to him.

The library.

Remus never runned as fast as this. He looked for you in Everysection, and there you were. Sitting and reading your favorite book.

"Y/n" He said. "Rem? " Your voice were soft "what are you doing here". " Is checking for a friend a crime? " Remus asked.

You looked away, tears was coming out of your eyes "friends you say, after calling me a slut and what ever things you've said about me".

"Y/n, I'm sorry" Remus said. "What are you sorry for, I'm the one who's supposed to be sorry, I betrayed your trust, and, you- I'm sorry, I really am.. I suppose you know already? " You asked, still not looking at him, even though he was sitting next to you.

"About, uhm, about me biting you? " Remus asked. "Knew you'd find out sooner or later" You accidentally squeaked.

"Y/n, are you crying? " Remus asked. "No, I'm not crying" You sobbed, even more. "Hey, y/n, y/n, love, look at me" He said, grabbing your hand.

"I'm sorry, Remus, im really am sorry, I swear I didn't mean to do that, and all the things you said were right, and things doesn't need to go back like it used to be but-but, please, just, forgive me" You covered your eyes with your hands.

"I forgive you and I'm sorry, about the things I've said, and I'm really sorry about it, you know, it" Remus said. It was visible that his eyes were glassy.

"Remus, it was my fault, it was my fault that I brought Severus with me, you don't have to be sorry, and thank you for forgiving me.. "

"What now? " Remus asked. "Forget about each other's existence? " You sniffed.

Remus's face were visibly disappointed. "Before we do that, I want to tell you something" Remus said, and you swore that you could heat his breathing getting faster and faster.

"I love you". That was it. "I-i, remus" You shook your head. "I get it, like you said, we could forget about each others existence and move on".

"No, remus, we've wasted so much time" You said. "By that.. You mean? ", " How dense can you get, remus, I love you too.. " You said, finally smiling.

"Really? "

"Really. I do love you, and, I'm sorry about everything that has been going on"

"I'm sorry, my love, I don't mean any of the things I've said"

"Prove it, then"

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait, do you think GE Saeran would have to deal with drug withdrawal effect during the period between his Good Ending and After Ending? It's highly likely, right? I want nothing more than to be by his side and comfort him during those times :(

Unfortunately, yes.

It's not sunshine and roses when it comes to somebody weaning themself off of the kind of drug he was taking. It was a combination cocktail of all sorts of drugs. The solution that makes up the Elixir is never quite the same each time, and the concentrations can be very different.

As far as I know, everything that's in there is bad for you. The Secret Ending tells us a few of the known ingredients but even the doctors are stumped on EVERYTHING that's in it. I've talked about about how he has to be going through a lot of painful symptoms but the game glosses over it because nobody really likes to talk about that kind of stuff. It's not pretty.

Not only that, but it's hard for people to open up about these particular issues since this is stigmatized no matter if somebody is in recovery or not. A good chunk of his time in the hospital has more to do with his physical symptoms than anything else. That is the case for many victims of Mint Eye. The mental duress and exhaustion are going to take a long time to heal, but as for the physical symptoms, some of those issues can be remedied in the meantime. 

It's a mess of migraines, exhaustion, irritability, dehydration, and many other physical and mental symptoms that can differ person to person and substance to substance.

Saeran is going to be dealing with this for a while. Even after he's out of the hospital, I can't see him being comfortable taking any kind of medication outside of something for his migraines. Why in the world would he ever be trustful of medication ever again after he spent so much of his life being forced to take the elixir? Ray called it medicine at one point, you know?

He may not have been taking it for as long as SE Saeran did, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was suffering with the elixir for nearly an entire year. 

He mentions once in the after-ending that he has medication he needs to take, and I imagine that offhand comment has a little bit to do with his recovery process. He takes medicine for migraines, that we know, but given that it’s been nearly a month and some change since we escaped Mint Eye, he’s had time to go to a doctor. Hell, I’m certain Jumin had not only helped him get a doctor, but get his proper government documentation as well. 

So, he is getting the help he needs for his health, but there's only so much they can do for his sake. They can make sure he has the medication he needs to lessen the severity of what he's going through, but it's not going to stop it 100%. He's going to have good days and bad days going forward, and sometimes there will be an itch he just can't scratch.

If you can do anything for him, you should make sure you have your hand ready for him to hold whatever he feels that ungodly feeling that tells him he needs some kind of elixir to make the pain go away. Even though he said he knew he didn't need to take it anymore, it doesn't change his body's response to no longer taking it. He went off of it cold turkey, and I can't imagine it made him feel good in the days following the aftermath. 

Worst case scenario, he keeps up a brave face in front of everybody as you all work together to find his brother, but the minute the two of you are alone, that's when he breaks down and shows you just how bad he feels. It might take a few days for the pain to kick in, but it'll get there, and you'll have to help him talk about… the elixir and what Mint Eye did to him. He may not talk about Rika or V, but he’ll have to tell them why he physically can’t work.