#this is crack to me im so delirious rn

[absurdumsid]

I was talking about this

https://www.tumblr.com/onionchives/705592916893106176/so-on-the-set-of-underverse-sans-what-does-cross

It was from uvstudio where you could ask characters questions from underverse questions

its ok anon this isnt the canon blog

X! Sans/Cross belongs to jakei95

Fell! Sans belongs to Fella/Vic

[todayisafridaynight]

uhhh something something 'the only time a yakuza should laugh with his teeth is when he's with family or in trouble' something something arakawa gradually doing so more and more when hanging around jo something something Uh Oh™️

[isa-ah]

send me some asks i am experiencing anxiety!

[hiemaldesirae]

Ok so imagine an au where early on into their friendship Vox gets the idea that he’s probably just some entertainment to pass the time for Alastor and that their friendship will end in Vox being heartbroken and Alastor moving on like nothing happened I mean he’d seen it happen with Alastors other business partners so it’s only a matter of time before that it happens to him and the way Alastor doesn’t seem interested when Vox talks about anything certainly doesn’t help so why would Vox put his all in a friendship that was probably doomed from the start so instead of just waiting for the eventual heartbreak Vox slowly becomes more and more distant he would talk less give short answers to any questions and worse of all he wouldn’t talk about any of his ambitions anymore ensuring that they would just quietly drift apart and for the most part it’s all going well but Alastor isn’t dumb he realized pretty quickly what Vox was trying to do you see Vox was right about a lot of things he didn’t really value what they had as much he was planning on just abandoning Vox whenever he got bored but that was in the beginning now it was different Alastor got unexpectedly attached to Vox even seeing him as his inspiration his muse and only his he can see that Vox is trying to leave him and that just won’t do Vox would stay by his side no matter what.

HOLD THE PHONE... nonny youre cooking. youre cooking like hell rn im literally frothing at the mouth for this concept

ill be fr i feel kiiinda like a hypocrite saying i like this sort of storyline because i kinda hate seeing it displayed in popular media like time-regression manhwas and stuff, but for some reason it just feels like such natural progression here i cant find anything wrong with this specific portrayal of them because. Yeah. in a world where vox is a little more cognizant with perhaps cracked rose glasses, he'd probably realize that alastors just toying with him early on. and maybe at one point he might have thought, no but i can fix him... but as time went on, he slowly grew more and more disillusioned and given how dangerous he knows breaking off the alliance directly with alastor would be he probably begins to collect allies elsewhere and branch off from alastor slowly- tries to make himself quieter, more withdrawn and *boring* so that he can make alastor break it off with him first and disregard whatever he does next

but ALASTOR on the other hand... oh he is Not taking that !!! at first if he'd seen vox slowly inching away, he might have paid a blind eye to it and let it happen- that is, if that was back when they'd first met. now, with years of having vox by his side... how could he possibly go back to a world without that delightful, silly little picture box of his? no, no, this couldnt do- if vox was going to try and slip away, that little rascal, then he'd just have to work harder to keep him by his side!

thus starts a bunch of shenanigans where vox, suddenly treated to alastor paying MUCH much more attention to him than ever before and lavishing praise and affection on him for no apparent reason is simultaenously terrified out of his mind (is he lovebombing me just to kill me later?!?!?) and also deliriously happy (because alastors finally paying attention to him, does this mean he wont kill me??) and its a silly romcom if you ignore the fact that alastor looks like hes about to atticwife vox the second one more person looks at his muse

[circus4apsycho8]

hey hey! i was wondering if i could maybe get a kai x reader oneshot where the reader is sick.

nothing serious or anything like that, just a cold that makes them slightly delirious and cling onto kai more than they usually do (aka they don't normally do it at all lol)

no pressure if you can't/don't want to do this, btw, i just thought it'd be cute tbh /gen /npa dw

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 :) 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

clingy. | kai x reader

You tried to drag yourself out of bed. You really did, considering how much you hate skipping training. 

But today is different – the lopsided pressure in your head is making you dizzy when you try to stand. You’re able to lay back down before you lose your balance. 

Stars, your head is throbbing. Combined with your stuffy nose, sore throat...yeah. Absolutely icky. 

It takes a matter of seconds for you to give up any hope of getting up. Suddenly met with a cold chill, you pull your blanket closer to your chin. 

For a few minutes, you simply lay there, not wanting to move. You’re too achy to even think about standing. 

To no avail, you try to go back to sleep. But you just can’t. For a few minutes, you find yourself tossing and turning until a knock sounds at your door. 

“Huh?” you grunt, throat too sore for you to speak anything coherently. 

“Babe?”

Relief courses through you as Kai steps through, his warm eyes already darting across your bedridden figure. It doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

He sits beside you, one of his hands coming to your cheek. “Oh no...you caught whatever funk Jay brought back, didn’t you?” 

You nod, pointing to your throat. 

“Your throat hurts? Damn. I’ll see if Sensei can make some of his sick tea. Here,” he trails off so he can unhook your phone from its charger, handing it over to you. “Text me until your throat feels better. Just tell me if you want anything to eat or anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Thank the stars for this boy. You don’t know what you’d do without him. 

You immediately open your messaging app, thumbs zipping across the keyboard: 

You: can i pls have some medicine too 

You: i feel like i got hit by a truck 

Kai: u got it gorgeous 

Kai: sensei making tea rn, im bringing u medicine for now 

You: thank you sm 

Glad that he’s returning, you shut your phone off and set it on your chest as you close your eyes. 

Soon enough, Kai returns, bottle of water and medicine in hand along with his laptop cradled in his other arm. He sets it at the foot of the bed so that he can crack the bottle open. 

“Okay, can you sit up for me?” he questions, once again having a seat at the edge of your bed. 

You nod, shifting until you’re upright. Kai patiently waits for you to get comfortable, gently dumping two pills into your hands before giving you the bottle of water. “I know your throat hurts, but this will help lighten the nastiness up a little bit.” 

You down the pills with a gulp of water, cringing at the feeling of the pills sliding down your sore throat. 

“I know it hurts, babe, but it’ll help. Make sure you keep drinking water, too. You need to stay hydrated.” 

You nod, sighing through your stuffy nose. Kai climbs into bed next to you, reaching for the laptop. You open your phone again. 

You: don’t get close! I don’t want you to get sick too

Rather than sending it to him, you just turn the screen towards him so that he can read it. 

“Nah, I’m staying,” he replies. “I know it sucks to be alone when you’re sick. Besides, we haven’t had a whole lot of time together lately anyway. Let’s watch something, yeah?” 

You nod, understanding by the tone of his voice that his mind won’t be changed. 

“Great. So, what do you want to watch?” 

You type your answer out, followed by: 

But you get to pick the next one!! 

“Fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “Let me go check your tea first, though!” 

A hint of a smile appears on your lips as you watch him leave. How did you end up so lucky? 

While you wait for your boyfriend to return, you take another sip of water. The pain in your throat screeches in retaliation, though. Yeah, you should probably wait for the tea. Sensei Wu’s special tea always managed to help a little bit. 

Kai returns a few minutes later, your cup of tea in hand. He settles in next to you, handing you the mug. 

You sigh gratefully, taking a sip. The hot water does wonders to soothe your throat. 

“That’s better,” you mumble, leaning your head on Kai’s shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you,” he replies, shooting you his adorably dumb smile. You can’t help but smile too, watching as he sets up the show and leans back. 

For a while, you simply lean against him, content that he’s staying with you for the time being. The warmth radiating from him wards the chilliness away, allowing you to flutter in and out of sleep as you rest. 

After your show ends, you feel Kai stirring from his spot beside you. You turn to him, watching as he starts to untangle himself from the sheets. 

You find yourself upset that he’s leaving, setting your mug to the side as you latch onto his arm. 

“Babe,” he coos, chuckling as he glances back down at you with those gorgeous amber eyes. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” 

“But I want you to stay...” you mumble shyly, not letting go. 

“It’ll be super quick. I’m just going to go grab a snack. And I can refill your mug, too!” 

You sigh, releasing his arm slightly. “Okay...thank you.” 

Kai presses a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed, a rush of cold air replacing his warmth. You reach over to your laptop so you can pause the video before laying your head back on your pillow. 

A few minutes pass, and you find yourself missing Kai. Why are you feeling so clingy today? Normally, you’re not like this, but for some reason, you just want to hide with him until you feel better. 

You grab your phone, sending him another text: 

kaiiiiiii 

where'd you go?? 

:( 

To your dismay, Kai doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Stars, why are you feeling so sensitive today? Is it just because being sick makes you feel vulnerable? 

Thankfully, Kai responds shortly after: 

im otw, sorry...got caught up talking to sensei 

He returns a few seconds later, now with snacks and a refilled mug of tea. “Sorry, Sensei was asking me a few questions. He’s letting me take the day off so I can take care of you.” 

“Good,” you croak, shifting around as he settles back in beside you. “I just...need you right now.” 

Kai smiles softly, pulling you against his chest as the two of you lean back. “You know...I hate that you’re sick, but at the same time...I kind of like this side of you.” 

“I don’t, but I can’t help it. When I get better, it’s straight back to the ass kicking. Yours included.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Kai jokes. 

You sigh, too tired to return the banter. “Thank you for staying, Kai.” 

“Anything for you, babe. Get some rest.” 

With that, your eyelids grow heavy as you snuggle up to him, eventually letting yourself sleep for the day. 

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

[lemmetreatya]

It Was An Accident!!! — Zeke x Eren x Jean x fem!Reader

synopsis: jean is dead, zeke killed him and eren doesn’t care about any of it. how on earth did you get wound up into any of this?!

content: modern au, afab!reader, slight crack, fem! masturbation WARNING — dark themes, mention and depiction of murder & death

please. there is absolutely no part 2 for this. there will never be a continuation. i have abandoned this work and given it up to god but i just neeeeded to share it since im in a zeke brainrot rn

Mornings like these were always horrible.

Nothing to do with the blazing hangover headaches or the overbearing feeling of guilt — you’ve long developed immunity to those leverages bumming your mood.

No, mornings like these were horrible because of who you shared them with.

“Stop staring at me.”

You blink rapidly at the sudden deep grumble of Zeke’s voice in front to you.

Naturally your first reaction is to coo because the blonde whispers of hair that crown his face and the squish of his cheek onto the blanket almost make you snort with laughter. But only almost, because there was nothing funny, or amusing or even endearing about waking up next to this monster of a man.

“I’m not staring at you.” You mumble, hardly embarrassed from being caught.

You avert your eyes away from the man although your cheeks stay flushed against the pillow.

Zeke still doesn’t open his eyes but you can see the tort of his eyebrows slightly crease. His expressions seemed so much more expressive when he didn’t have his glasses to cover them.

“Yes, you are. I can literally feel your evil eyes on me. It’s the sole reason why I woke up.”

Zeke’s morning voice is low but in some places it’s whiney. He’s only ever this whiney in front of you.

Briefly closing your eyes, you don’t even think to retort back with the expected ‘I’m not evil’ cry. At this point, you don’t even think you could deny his claim. In a sense he was right.

Besides, being defensive around Zeke wasn’t an option nowadays, especially not when he knew so intricately in how to annoy you.

Instead, you decide to question him.

“How are you always this much of a pain this early into the morning?”

Opening your eyes again, your met to see that Zeke also has his open but they’re not looking at you. They’re squinted, still getting adjusted to the morning light. But despite that, Zeke still finds away — even in the delirious state of just waking up — to barter off of you.

“Being a pain is my coffee. My caffeine. Being a hater fuels everything about me.”

Zeke’s words are followed with an unapologetic yawn. As the man’s hot breath breathes into your face, you turn away. You make a gagging sound as your hand plugs at your nose.

“Fuck, man. Please don’t do that shit right in my face! Like go brush your teeth or something.”

Zeke doesn’t say anything in reply but you do hear him dryly snicker. His reaction rises a shallow simmer of anger inside of you and so you kick his shin underneath the covers. The laughter ceases.

“Next time, share a bed with Eren.” You grumble as you fling the duvet cover off of you and slide out of bed.

You can’t see his reaction but you know Zeke’s got something witty to say; he’s always got something witty to say.

“What, and leave you by yourself with Jean?”

You shrug as you scratch at your ass, already trudging to the en-suite bathroom.

“I don’t think I’d mind.” You spit. “I’d rather share a bed with a corpse than with you.”

Breakfast was mostly quiet, bar for the loud chomping of Eren chowing down his food. Sometimes you wonder whether he was the one raised without both his parents as opposed to Zeke.

The hotel was serving a continental breakfast and so Zeke thought the least he could do was ‘pay’ for everyone to eat. After the night you’ve all had, it was definitely needed. You believe the gesture was kind and was even about to thank Zeke for the thoughtfulness. However, once you realised you were already entitled to the food since you’d already paid for the second hotel room, you ceased your tongue.

“You know,” Eren waves his fork in your direction, his mouth still full of food. “This shit ain’t even real egg. It’s just yellow muck in a packet that they add water to.”

There’s a part of you that wants to ignore him, brush him off and continue to pick at your own food but in all honesty you were scared of the brunette Jaeger. Both brothers were sick in the head but Eren was on a different level of unhinged.

You didn’t even want to fathom what he’d do to you if you pissed him off in the slightest.

“Oh, really?” You plainly muse.

You take a bite out of your food to keep your mouth busy. Maybe if you showed signs of oral occupation, he’d eventually leave you alone.

“Yeah. Real gruesome stuff when you look into it but I honestly don’t think it matters. I say if it taste good, then I’m eating it! Don’t worry or care about where its come from or where its been.”

Eren gives you a suggestive look as he wiggles his eyebrows in your direction. You don’t even linger or question what innuendo he was suggesting but either way you were put off. Part of you wants to throw up the little of what you have in your stomach but you know that wasn’t the best case scenario for anyone.

Luckily, Erens interested in his Fake Eggs again and so he takes a hasty scoop of the food before cramming it into his mouth. You’d think he hadn’t eaten for days.

“Okay, so this is how it’s gonna go.”

Zeke turns his iPad towards the two of you. He’s been drawing and tapping and scrolling at it all breakfast.

“All we gotta do is frame Jean’s death as an accident. I’ve done a bit of research and we can easily propose it as if he’d just been a bit too silly and girlbossed too close to the sun. If we really back trace our steps, we can cover shit up and make us look like the victims.”

Zeke pushes the device to your direction before sitting back and folding his arms.

“I honestly think it’s a master plan.”

Both you and Eren lean in at the same time to witness an opened Procreate file that had scribbles and illustrations of Zeke’s supposed mind-blowing plan on.

Part of you feels that whatevers happening here is doomed because who the fuck even uses an art creating app to create a master plan of how to frame a murder? But then the other half of you just didn’t care. You’d gone beyond worrying about these type of things.

As Eren’s eyes glance over the page, his face suddenly breaks into a looped smile.

“Heck yeah, I get to play the mourning boyfriend? Sweet.”

At first you didn’t know how to react because maybe Eren was joking about being assigned a real role for the plan, but it’s when you saw how sparkly his eyes looked that you knew he was serious.

With a sigh, you give the Jaeger a pitiful look.

“Eren, you already are the mourning boyfriend.”

Seeing Eren’s emerald eyes peer through the side of his hair at you and you momentarily fear for your safety, fearing his reaction. But once he swoops the dangling piece behind his ear and shrugs, your defenses are slightly lowered.

“Yeah, but now I get to play the part. It gives me a reason to actually be sad about what happened. Surprisingly, I don’t feel anything right now.”

Slightly unnerving but you don’t dispute it.

The things that pissed Eren off weren’t simple — the brunette found it easy to be erratic about the smallest of things. But god forbid he feel an ounce of something for the death of his late boyfriend at the hands of his half brother.

You then figure Zeke probably allocated Eren that role just to make him feel included because in all reality, what good was the brunette for if not fucking up a role that didn’t make sense to him?

Looking back to the iPad, your eyes glide over the plan.

Not like you’d know whether things would work or not but Zeke had a cool nick for being able to calculate situations and their outcomes. Sometimes you think to commend him for his efforts because if it’s one thing about him? It’s that he’ll always get the three of you out whatever mud you’re currently in.

But then, he does something stupendously idiotic that absolutely grinds your gears, and makes you wish nothing but death and malice upon his life.

“Wait, why do I have to be betrothed to you again? What the fuck?”

Zekes in the midst of having a coffee mug against his lips, and he makes a hum at your words, as if you asked a insightful question during a seminar.

Lowering it, he ponders upwards before replying smoothly.

“To make it more plausible.”

“Bullshit.” You snap.

Zeke raises his shoulders but in a questioning stance. The look on his face makes you feel imbecilic, like you don’t know what you’re playing at, but you know Zeke well enough to know it was most likely a ruse.

“What else do you suggest? That you’re just gonna play the loner who decided to tag along? That suspiciously has connections to no one but the dead guy in the bathtub?”

“I don’t have connections to him!” You hiss.

Zeke raises his eyes at you and your next words are fumbled.

“He just…happens to think I’m his office competition! Eren has more connection to him than I do. His dick has literally been up his ass!”

“Believe it or not, it was always the other way round.” Eren chirps.

“Come on, be real for once. We’ve done this way too many times for you to have a problem with the arrangements.” Zeke takes a nonchalant sip at his coffee. “Is it because you’re still angry about this morning?”

Something inside you clicks.

Because why does Zeke always reduce your emotions to petty experience? If he truly believes that you’re angry simply because of a sleeping arrangement or because of how annoying he is or because of morning breath — then how lowly did he view you?

With a sarcastic huff of amusement, you look upwards at the ceiling before rounding down to watch Zeke in his face.

“Is that what you think this is about? About silly morning pillow talk?”

Zeke doesn’t look bothered nor gives an answer but he’s definitely listening. Eren only continues scoffing his face with food as his eyes dart between you both.

“It’s never about ‘this morning’, Zeke. It’s about every time that you call me out for ‘quick drinks’ or ‘a friendly catch up’ that we always seem to end up with a dead body on our hands. And now, you’ve gone and done it, because you’ve gotten Eren’s boyfriend involved.”

Eren raises his fork in thought, his face showing clear signs of nostalgia.

“We never really liked to use the label boyfriend. We liked Evergreen Other more — gave it more meaning, you know?”

Zeke slightly snorts, because he always finds shit funny, but there’s a switch in you that’s jammed and won’t allow you to turn off how his reaction digs at you.

Scraping your chair backwards, you gingerly pick up Eren’s room key before getting up to leave.

“Fuck this.”

Zeke’s eyes follow you cautiously, his expression fixed in a light smirk despite him being concerned.

“Where you going?” He muses.

You only stick your middle finger up at him before marching out of the dining room.

“To check on Eren’s Evergreen Other.” You say.

In all honesty, you’ve never been good with dead bodies.

You’re not sure why you came back to the room but you guess any excuse to be away from the Jaegers.

But there was something about the lack of life in dead people that haunted you a bit more than say, animals. But most of the dead bodies you’ve seen and known before this were never of people you knew. Yes, the odd occasion where you attend the funeral, but this was different.

Stepping into Eren’s room, your heart drums against your chest because you were expectant to see the dead body of someone you knew.

Of a coworker, that Zeke killed — and not in the context of a funeral.

As you slot the key and turn the handle, you open the door to then step into the room.

The place is a dump.

You’re not sure how, considering you’d only booked into these rooms yesterday night and that none of you had any overnight stay belongings. You toe away an empty bag from the door so that you’re able to clear a path and move.

It’s clear Eren had no home training despite his declared dual income, middle class, nuclear family upbringing.

You honestly do question whether he and Zeke got their sob stories mixed up. You wouldn’t put it pass you. So much of what the Jaegers lived for was fabricated and fucked up. Who says their back stories weren’t following the same pattern?

You take a seat on Eren’s unmade bed first but you know it’s because you were stalling. You were dreading going into the bathroom at all costs.

Not that you blame yourself — not even 24 hours ago, you were bartering with Jean back in the office break room — and now he was lifeless, void of any warmth or vim he previously had when alive.

“Maybe I should just mind my business…” You mumble to yourself before lying back down onto the bed with a bounce.

With your hands folded over your stomach, you wonder how you’d gotten into this situation. All you did was accept a messy invitation to be down for a quick fuck and now look, you were an accomplice to a murder.

Now that you think about it, you didn’t even get what you’d come all the way down here for and as you thought about it, your hand subconsciously started to lead down to your crotch and beneath the zip of your jeans.

For the past 12 hours you’ve been on an absolute edge. With everything that’s gone on, you’d forgotten the twinging neediness of your body. Quickly, you find yourself scooting upwards onto the bed and propping your legs up. As soon as your fingers are able to delve deeper beneath your jeans and feel the wetness of your underwear, you realise that you were more wound up than you thought you were.

How on earth did it get this bad?

“Zeke…promise me this is the last time.”

The blonde male disregarded your half moaned words as his lips treaded up the plough of your skin. His hands, as daring as ever slid their way up your shirt.

“You know I can’t promise you anything.”

Despite the blaring alarms in your head telling you not to engage with the man, you couldn’t help deny the tell-tale signs of your body that clearly wanted him. No matter how many times you told yourself you didn’t like him you always seemed to find yourself in this position more times than none.

The both of you sank into the puffed duvet of the hotel bed, the blankets engulfing you both.

You’ve so got to stop answering his ‘dtf?’ texts.

“Why you in town anyways?” You sigh as your hands tug through his blonde hair. It’s definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him.

Zeke bites down into the suckle of your flesh which makes you whine in retaliation. His hands wash over the plump flesh of your breasts.

“Mm. Had to do a bit of work for Eren.”

You almost comment that it’s nice of him to be looking out for his younger brother but you figure it’d spoil the mood. You hadn’t seen the brunette Jaeger in almost four years. You wonder how he’s doing?

Although as if on queue, the door to the ensuite bathroom of the hotel room bursts open showing none other than a rather bored looking man.

“Zeke, he’s not breathing.” He says.

Both you and Zeke jump up and off each other but for different reasons.

“What?”

“Eren?!”

The brunette, totally oblivious (or maybe just unphased) to your naked presence gives you a nonchalant nod.

“Oh, hey.” He says before he turns back to Zeke. “Jean. He’s in the bathtub but he’s not breathing.”

Automatically, Zeke’s getting up from the bed, boxer crotch still bricked as he half runs into the bathroom behind Eren.

Using the large duvet, you fold it over yourself for decency. Eren doesn’t seem half as bothered but you definitely notice the way his eyes scanned over your body.

”Since when did you get here?” You airily question.

It takes him awhile to realise it’s him you’re talking to but he eventually gets it.

“Oh, me?” He says as he points to himself. “Been here all along. When did you get here?”

You don’t even get a chance to mention that you’ve been here for a good half an hour already because Zeke’s voice echoes from within the bathroom.

“Fuck!”

Eren’s turning around to walk back into the ensuite and see what’s up. You quickly try to grab your shirt so that you could at least have it over your body.

As soon as you walk into the bathroom, you’re met with both Jaegers giving each other concerned looks. Since you’re unsure of what’s going on, you squeeze between them both to decipher the issue.

“What’s actually going o—Oh my fucking God!”

A massive gasp leaves your mouth as you tumble back into Eren’s chest. The brunette catches you but your legs still feel weak at the poorly sight you’re seeing.

There, lying limp in hotel bathtub with his eyes wide open, is none other than Jean Kirschtein — your colleague from work.

At this point, you were deep into a fingering rut. With your jeans pooling at your ankles and your tshirt hiked up, silky moans left your mouth as you continued to finger your cunt and pinch at your nipple.

Your high was so close! — Damn Zeke for leaving you on such an edge.

But before you could even finish at a climax, the door to the ensuite bathroom haggardly opens up on you again for a second time.

“Shit—” The voice croakily said.

You quickly pull your hands away from your folds with speed and squeeze together your legs in embarrassment of getting caught masturbating. However, once you realise who was in from of you, you let out the most blood curdling scream of your life.

How the fuck was Jean Kirschtein alive?!

[yoitssabrinee]

To Mercy We Plead

I am actually quite dissatisfied with how this turned out, but it got a little too long (is 7 pages and 3263 words long? lol) so here’s the first chapter of what I think is decent enough for a Prompto + Reader thing? Yeah lmao

Many thanks to @inconsistencys​ and @projectcherry12​ for their help, feedback, and all the references they have provided me with--i could never do this without their help and support (and for Christ’s sake please follow them they are amazing people ok thank u) and also i need u guys to point out what i did wrong here and what i amiss because i am seriously delirious rn oh my god

p.s. this is unedited btw lmao i’m still in the dark about what to write for the summary so here’s to nothing!

SUMMARY:

A lifetime of repentance would never erase the regret building inside you as long as the person you’ve hurt are still bound to their past. But maybe redemption is on your way, and you’d be damned to let that chance go. (Prompto Argentum + Reader)

WARNING: Mentions of bullying, harassment.

prologue - part 1 - part 2

It was eight in the morning.

Sun was way up in the sky; the air smelled fresh and nice; the sky was clear; and it seemed to be the perfect weather for a stroll in the park, or maybe a casual walk through the city sidewalks, staring at street-side stalls selling kebabs and ice cream cones or just simple trinkets like key chains and cheap bracelets.

Yet here you were, face down and backside up, spine sore and screaming in pain at the hit it took from the blunt object across the room.

That made it the fifth time you’ve been kissing marble floors in a span of nearly one hour.

Your vision was swimming, unshed tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and body singing with exertion, but you’ve mapped and memorized the layout of the room so clearly from days moving all around it to know which corner was which even when you had your eyes closed—the trick here was to maximize your hearing sense so you could make out the movements of the other recruits, who were crowding the outline of the stage, silently snickering behind their hands.

Lips thinning in defiance, you quickly whirled and jumped into position, scrambling for the makeshift wooden sword laying just a ways away—previously knocked out of your hand—from you and biting back a sob as you stumbled forward, facing the opponent that had been handing your ass back to you in the past fifty-five minutes.

You knew this was not part of training—it was just a simple reflex-based move, dammit—but still your face felt hot with shame.

Not to mention that it was an extremely important day, and you totally blew it.

Baby blue eyes watched you and your opponent’s forms from the side line, silently judging your performance the whole hour you had been on that floor, eyes squinting whenever you took a hit on whichever part of your body that was left open for your rival to strike. It was humiliating—both from having Cor the Immortal’s eyes on you and seeing disappointment crinkling them every time you hit the deck, and catching the glint in your audience’s narrowed orbs as they silently cheered on your loss.

You were a hundred percent sure you just failed the test.

Cor’s voice rang across the expanse, “You’ve got five minutes left. Make it count.”

Make it count.

Like hell you would.

With a yell you charged, wooden sword swiping forward with unrelenting force, your intentions loud and clear—bring the enemy down in one fell swoop and spare yourself from yet another day of insult and embarrassment.

But, of course, this was one of the top fighters you were dealing with—top jock of the elite Special Forces, newly initiated as recruit barely six months ago but he was already making his way up with amazing performance. At this rate even you wouldn’t be surprised to see the likes of him flanking Cor’s side as his right hand man.

Which, to your dismay, just solidified everybody’s—minus yours—opinions on him as he sent you sprawling a final time to the floor, concluding the day’s events.

It was barely nine in the morning.

The applause that followed nearly made you deaf, but you were too busy willing yourself not to cry as you stand up, using the sword as support to steady your stance before you made your way toward the threshold. Ignoring all the pointed looks aimed your way, you trotted toward where the Marshall was standing, clipboard in his arm.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to plead to him to give you a second chance. You’d do anything to make up for that lack of performance, the absence of focus that was the main point of all the training you’ve endured for the past nine months. Yet the moment you stood before him, saluting and addressing him by title, the look on his face gave him away. At this rate even disappointment was an understatement; you turned your gaze to the floor, finding interest on the cracks between the tiles.

Hours of toiling and getting decked in the shins at ass o’clock by colleagues who just wanted to bring you down had all amounted to nothing.

You heard him call your name, and when you lift your eyes from the floor you were met with icy blues boring deep into your skull, his lips thinning into a straight line. “I want you to know that you have potential. I want you to know that I know that potential is somewhere in that body of yours, waiting to be brought out.” He was silent for a spell before he continued, “But I also want you to know that today, you didn’t meet the expectations I’ve set up for most of the recruits that have joined us here today. Your posture is off, your stance needs more work, your overall performance is lacklustre at best, and I’m not even going to touch on the way you handle yourself during mock battles.”

You nod, then finding whatever strength you had in you, you said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He took another moment longer to stare at you before he let out a long sigh, signing something off on the clipboard. You didn’t want to see what it was, but you were fairly sure he had just written you off as a ‘fail’.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling fresh tears stinging your lashes.

“Right now you’re not ready for that. Not yet. I’m sorry, but you know what this means for you, right?”

You nodded, not daring to lift your eyes to meet his, fearing that the tears would actually spill should they make contact.

Cor let out another sigh.

“You’re dismissed.”

And just like that, you failed the exam that would initiate you into the Crownsguard as an elite.

(s)

The Discussion tab was brimming with visitors, as usual; since the last time you were there, it had reached the triple digits in a span of a week, stated by the ever rotating digital numeral widget tucked at one corner of the website. Today, you were contributing another number to that widget by surfing through the page, fingers finding the ‘Post New Thread’ button on default and flying over the virtual keyboard to type.

It only took a couple of taps to get to where you usually frequented on the forum, having the website bookmarked for convenience on your phone. Since the minute you left the training room, every recruit that had passed you at the halls kept turning your way; you were past the point where you wanted to just snap and tell them off. You never know what they were saying, but you figured anything that they have to say was about you—and anything about you was never a good thing.

Especially since every eye seemed to be judging your every move.

Somnus’ Assembly for the Desperate and Needy—it was one of the only refuges you have, ever since you were initiated as a beginner into the Crownsguard forces; one of the only places where you could express yourself and your words without being looked at as if you were mental. Ever since your accidental stumble into the website during one exceptionally spiralling day, months prior, you have been a frequent, if not a little too infrequent, visitor of the page, occasionally posting threads retelling your troubles or giving out advice to those who you think might need it—or, you know, just drop in others’ threads and comment. In that place where nobody knew anybody except for their tales of toil and distress, no one would give you the side eye because no one knew what your history was and they would never judge you based on what you used to be.

Some, if not all, of the visitors have disclosed their own personal details to give vivid descriptions to their stories, but you weren’t on that level of comfortable to even share your past to the internet world. At least, not yet.

The ‘New Thread’ text box was only filled with a line of words, after a couple of minutes of deleting, then retyping, then deleting before retyping again, because every word you used seemed to expose too much, tell too much of your side. You just wanted to be frank, straightforward, and honest, but at the same time you didn’t want to give away anything.

In the least, you wanted a side where you could keep all your secrets without being appraised. The website have been your saving grace.

 {toothless-vore has posted a new thread!}

 Your lips quirked into a small smile at the sight of the bolded letters gracing yet another tab of new thread discussion on the page, a tinge of relief washing over you at finally letting a piece of distress out. You were about to swipe the webpage out, having done away your trouble, when it suddenly refreshed by itself, and your thread indicated that a visitor had read it, and commented on it.

You opened the post, wondering what it was, then felt the smile at your lips growing wider as you read:

 {yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:11AM}

∑(;°Д°) omg are u ok?? im sorry that happened to u!! are u alright???

 It was only a simple thread, the top post lined with only one sentence, read: just failed exam, conked out atm, feelin real down and need lots of choc. But to this person who had gone by the username yellow-birdboy, it was a big deal. Funny how you have trouble making friends in the real world, but on the internet, people like this wanted to hear what you have to say and read all your stories with immense interest, especially since none of you know each other that personally to invest time in strangers on the net. One of the perks of being anonymous and hiding behind fake names, you guessed.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:12AM}

yea m fine, nothing i cant handle dw ( ´ ▽ `)ﾉ

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:15AM}

i know u can, but lemme know if u wanna vent yea?? im always up for a lil motivation!! ( •̀ᗜ•́)ง

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:19AM}

thnx boo, preciate it (✿´ ‿`)

 This Birdboy user wasn’t entirely new in your list of followers and subscribers; in fact, he had been among many who was—supposedly—enamoured by the way you “carried” yourself, as they put it—to them, you seemed like the strong type of person, full of wisdom waiting to be imparted to those who wanted them. You weren’t an admin, not even a moderator, of the forum, so you didn’t know why they would actually take a liking to you, but seeing the increasing numbers of subscribers on your profile, you might as well be one.

It was just that Birdboy—you liked to dub them as that—was one of the few who cared enough to chat you up, lifting your spirits with chats that would carry you into the morning and making you laugh at horrible puns they cooked up for your sake. Contrasting ironically with how the daylight would often turn that smile upside down.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:21AM}

talk bout motivation, it seems like tmro is my 1st apptmt ( •́〰•̀)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:23AM}

oo yea, u mentiond that like last week!! did ya kno who u gonna meet?? ( ◕▽◕)

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:25AM}

idk but if its anything like a therapy i doubt the doc wd be any nice ( •́ᗣ•̀)

aaaand i heard its gonna be group ( ; ≧ 〜≦)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:27AM}

ooh

looks like its gonna be

team-ing w ppl, dontcha think?? ( >ᗜ◕)୨

 You didn’t even realize you were bursting with laughter until the occupant of the bed across yours turned to give you a long, weird look. You immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, snorting into your palm as you tried to calm yourself, fingers of the other hand furiously typing out a response:

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:28AM}

WTF that was bad that was really really bad n u shud feel ashamed of urself omg

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:29AM}

HEY!! ( •̀ᗣ•́)

well at least it made u laugh right?? ( ;´ `)╯

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:31AM}

yea lol

thnx birdie <3

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:33AM}

no prob!! ( ◕▽◕)

oh yea, spk of apptmt, i just scheduled one too

n guess what?? its tmro ヽ( ; ⁰▽ ⁰)ﾉ

im so scared lol

 It was an agreement, basically; if one made an appointment to go through counselling therapy, then the other would support it by making one, too. A promise made during a night where hushed, cynical whispers turned into full-blown brawling sessions that escalated into you—and the party involved—going through the weekend in detention, allowance to go home or anywhere lifted until all of you behaved accordingly.

Not like you actually have a home to go to, but you had plans, and you were quite bummed when it happened.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:35AM}

aw yes u did it bud!!

gud luck 2 both o us then!!

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:36AM}

yep! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

hey i know this is sudden but i gotta go so ttyl!!

n tell me everything bout ur session latr tmro ok??

 You barely typed out ok!! cyaa when the phone was wrenched out of your hand, and you watched in horror as a tall brunette before you—dressed in Crownsguard fatigues minus the jacket issued to every initiate—swiped through the screen, reading everything that was on it while sporting a sideways grin—the same grin that you’ve come to hate, because you damn well know who this was, and you weren’t about to give in to her. Not yet.

Probably over your dead body. Some day.

“Give that back, Adicus.” There’s venom in your voice, and any lesser human would have just handed you what you wanted without even looking at you twice—except you were the lesser human in this case and you knew that the sternness in your tone would do nothing again this person who was literally taller—and bigger—than you were. The two women flanking both her sides did little to assuage your fears; they were larger than you, albeit a little smaller than their taller leader. “Or else.”

But your threat only fell into deaf ears, as this Adicus flung back her chestnut tresses to look at you through raised brows, lips set in a snarky grin. “Or else what, tough one?” she spat out, something dripping from the tone of her voice that made you shiver involuntarily. “Nice of you to try to come at me with that look and tone, considering you just got your ass handed by Melphites and failed your initiate exam.” Then she put a hand over her chest, face scrunched in mock hurt. “Ooh, the pain! Don’t worry, I know exactly how it feels. Too bad for someone who claimed they wanted to protect the people, they just keep failing, y’know? It’s natural.”

Tristus Adicus. You remembered her from your heydays in grade school—the figurative leader of the group you had approached and befriended before a certain fiasco prompted your transfer, thus cutting off your (supposed) friendship with her. She had been in awe of your boldness—that was what she had been telling you, until the moment came to light where you just know it was her doing that had drove you to the spot you were currently in.

Karma had handed you whatever you deserved in return; you didn’t think karma would be this awful.

You were standing now, noting how obvious the height differences were between the both of you as you stood before her, fists clenched, trying to reel in your emotions as to not give yourself—and many others—any trouble. “Adicus.” You weren’t about to lose yourself to her provocations, no matter how bad it was. “Give that back. Right now.”

Provocations be damned. You just failed one of the most important events in your life; you weren’t about to get yourself kicked out of the Crownsguard entirely.

Then, whether it was by common or it was just another Adicus brand of provocation, you didn’t know which, she dropped the phone on your bed, and it bounced once on the springy material before you quickly pocketed it, keeping it out of sight.

She stood where she was, firmly holding her gaze against yours, that lopsided smirk still adorning her surprisingly gentle face before she said, “Just to be clear, I’m still not done about that last time we had it. So be prepared; I might come at you any time of the week, and no one can do anything to stop it.”

Then she left, bringing her two-person entourage with her, and only then you realize how the other girls had been watching the scene, expecting a spectacle, and slowly dispersing under your intense look. But you couldn’t give a damn. You flop down onto your bed, reached under it for the backpack you’ve kept your personal things in, and started rummaging through it.

You opened your phone to see the typed out response still in the Reply text box, but Birdboy had gone offline. As expected. You sent the response anyway, and set about going to tomorrow’s session, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as the stories the internet had told you.

(s)

“You sure you don’t want me to come along?”

It was comical to see that mop of blond hair—spiked up as it was—bobbing up and down as its owner bent his head over the open zipper of the bag, checking its contents for the second time. The dark-haired young man leaning on the doorway next to him kept watch, eyes sometimes straying to the open front door, adjacent to his bedroom, possibly to keep intruders out, but really, what kind of intruder would be stupid enough to invade the apartment, especially when there were guards posted literally everywhere?

“Yeah, I’m good,” the blond said, finally zipping up and slinging the pack over his shoulders, heading for the front. “Thanks for having me over last night. You wanna go out for dinner again sometime after the session? My treat.”

He was saying it casually, partially gloved hand lifting up and down to emphasize himself, but the boy with the dark hair knew better. The slight shake in the blond’s voice was enough to give him away.

He reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder, bare from the sleeveless top he wore since yesterday. Sign of how distracted that blond partner of his could be, when nervousness and second-guessing began to lead his thoughts into panic. He needed distractions, he needed help. And as much as he could get it, he would find help.

He patted the freckled part of the appendage, smirking at the nervous way the blond was smiling—trying to calm himself.

“Don’t worry, Prompto,” Noctis nodded his head at the jittery blond. “You’re doing great. I know you could do it.”

And Prompto smiled—for real.

He knew he could do it.