#”can’t seem to see you” tearing at the ground :)

[dark-and-kawaii]

Nanami Kento, the one who entwines his fingers with yours as his cock fucks you at a punishing pace.

The man who’s cock is so large it feels like it’s crushing your womb, and each time you whimper his hand gives yours a reassuring squeeze before kissing away the tears that escape your eyes.

Nanami Kento, a gentleman through and through- even during the throes of passion.

Who is so handsome with his tousled blond hair and the most alluring eyes you have ever seen. The one with the strong jaw that clenches with every thrust.

Nanami Kento, whose breath hitches as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and bites his lip when your walls clench around him so nicely. Your ever loving, attentive, Nanami, who tries desperately to hold back so many noises because he wants to hear yours. 

The man who when he can't hold back, whispers your name against your lips, moans it in your ear and makes you see stars, calling to you over and over as if you're his only anchor to this world.

Nanami Kento, whose hips are unyielding, driving his cock into you over and over and over again. He is relentless, his stamina god like, and the only thing that keeps you grounded is the feeling of his sweaty skin against  yours- his lips ghosting over yours and his cock stretching your pussy so wide you can’t help but wonder if it’ll ever return to normal.

Who pulls out seconds before cumming so he can paint your pretty tummy with his cum- stroking himself through his orgasm, watching as he paints you like a canvas, admiring the masterpiece that is you with his lips slightly parted. 

Nanami Kento, the man who leans over you afterwards- his cum dripping down your stomach and onto the bed as he presses a tender kiss to your lips and tells you how beautiful you are. The same man who always pulls you to his chest- his strong arm wrapping around you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, never caring if his own spunk ends up on him too. 

Who cradles you in his arms- his embrace a sanctuary where you always sleep safely… where you always feel cherished and time seems to stand still. His breath tickling the nape of your neck as he inhales your scent, committing to memory before drifting off to sleep. His lips curved with a beautiful smile, his features softened by pure contentment.

You can see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch- an undeniable warmth, and taste it from his lips… This is a man who has never truly known love until now.

Nanami Kento, who doesn’t just fuck you, but instead makes love to you as if each moment were a precious farewell- as if each night would be his last. Pouring his heart into every fleeting second.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Smarter Insight 1 Insight 2 Insight 3

You can’t breathe, it’s the only thing you can think of as the door swings open and your pulled into the house, you can’t breathe, you can’t get any oxygen into your lungs as they try desperately to get you to clam down, as they try desperately to try and understand what’s going on but you can’t speak because you can’t breathe and in a moment of panic they shout “I’m calling Leah ok.” That seems to help a bit as you let out a gasped no.

They looked confused as you still try to draw in a breath but you don’t want them to call Leah and that doesn’t seem to make any sense, nothing you gasp out is making any sense “it-it won’t-it won’t fit.” You’re lent over the counter your palms pushing into the cool top trying to ground yourself “it-it won’t fit.” You say again “her ring-her ring it-it won’t.” You feel light headed now but a voice in the back of your head screams at you that you’re not just breathing for yourself, you’re breathing for your baby and that seems to flip a switch as you place a protective hand on your stomach.

“Her ring-Leah’s ring it-it doesn’t fit.” Leah grabby looks at you eyebrows scrunched together in confusion “her wedding band, of course it fits darling.” You shake your head “It’s not her ring Granny, I-she.” You feel your stomach twist again as Leah’s granny tries to understand what’s going on.

“She’s cheating on me-Leah’s cheating on me.” Granny feels her blood run cold as her face drops “that’s-are you sure.” You nod as the pieces play in your head “she-she wasn’t wearing her ring- I told her I’d take it-her-she said her hand was swelling from practice and when I went to put it on-it doesn’t fit.” Granny can see the struggle, the way your hunched over scared that if you let go of the counter that the world will slip away. She sees your hand grasping at your stomach protectively and she herself starts to feel nauseous.

“Where is the ring Y/n.” You shake your head at the memory “I-i-SHE wears it around her neck.” Granny reaches for your hand grasping it tightly “who darling.” A tear tracks its way down your cheek “the girl she’s sleeping with.” Granny freezes, that ring had seen forty five years of pure love and happiness it was given to Leah so she could show it the same instead it’s been disgraced.

“I-what-what do I do.” You ask as granny leads you to the couch “I-i-we were supposed to have a baby.” Granny feels her heartbreak at your quieting voice “I was going to tell her it worked, that-that I’m pregnant.”

You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t notice granny calling Amanda, or the rest of your family, you don’t notice the blanket she’s draped over you and you definitely don’t notice that you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up to voices in the kitchen.

“I-how did she end up like this, I mean why would she do something like this to her marriage, to Y/n.” Amanda looks shell shocked as she sits talking to granny her hands wrapped around a mug “Do you think she’ll let us still see the baby.”

You place your hand over your stomach again “I-I can’t do this on my own .” You say stepping forward Amanda turns to you standing in the hallway “I-please don’t make me do this alone.”

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twelve: Under Watchful Eyes

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

P t 1 P t 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

In-ho’s presence was a fortress around you. The second those VIPs started circling, closing in, you felt it—his body went rigid, his movements sharp, calculating. His mask still covered his face, but you could feel the weight of his every decision through the air. He was a wall between you and them, and you clung to that wall like it was the only thing that could keep you from crumbling under the pressure.

The VIPs weren’t hiding their excitement anymore. They were pushing forward, murmuring to each other with that sickening tone, their eyes hungry, searching for any crack in your armor. It made your skin crawl, the way they watched you, the way they talked about you like you were nothing more than a toy to pass around.

You couldn’t let them see how scared you were. Your legs were shaking, but you refused to show it. Instead, you pressed your hand to In-ho’s back. It wasn’t for him, really—he didn’t need reassurance. It was for you. His body was so solid, so unshakable, that it grounded you, even if just for a moment.

And then, like a shadow looming over everything, he appeared. The man in the panther mask stepped forward, his presence practically oozing arrogance. You could feel his eyes on you even before he spoke. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that, Frontman,” he said, his voice low, slick like honey but with a venomous edge. “Your job is to please us, remember? To meet our needs.”

The words hit you like a slap. The air turned colder, tighter. You wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the wall behind you, but In-ho didn’t flinch. His back remained straight, his posture strong, like he wasn’t going to let them tear you apart, not if he had anything to say about it.

The pack behind the panther-masked man started laughing—low, cruel chuckles that only made your stomach churn harder. Some of them leaned forward, eyes scanning you like you were a prize to be fought over, something they could break and take for themselves. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt like prey, but this time? It felt like they were all waiting for In-ho to slip. And if he did, you knew there was no way you could escape them.

But In-ho didn’t slip. He didn’t even budge. His voice, when it came, was like a warning. “No,” he said, his tone smooth but firm, like he’d just drawn a line in the sand that none of them could cross.

You could feel the tension rise. The panther-masked man didn’t back off. Instead, he just tilted his head, like he was sizing In-ho up, testing him. “You seem to forget your place, Frontman,” he said, stepping closer, the mockery thick in his voice. “You’re here to serve us. All of us.”

The other VIPs seemed to edge closer too, sensing the shift, their eyes dancing from In-ho to you. You could feel them closing in, their hunger more than just physical. It was like they were watching a spectacle, waiting to see what would break first: In-ho’s resolve, or yours.

In-ho’s hand never moved from his side, but you saw the tightness in his fingers. He wasn’t going to back down. You could see it in the way he stood, unmoving, the line drawn in the sand.

The panther-masked man wasn’t done, though. He stepped forward, his eyes glinting with amusement as he spoke again. “You can’t keep her safe from all of us, Frontman,” he mocked, his voice almost playful. “You know what we like.”

The laugh of his posse rang out again, sharp and ugly, but In-ho didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his posture steady, his voice calm. “Step back,” he ordered, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. And somehow, they listened. Just for a moment.

The leader’s smile flickered, but only for a second. He wasn’t used to being defied, but he wasn’t stupid either. He knew better than to push In-ho too far. At least, not in this moment.

Instead of arguing, the panther-masked man turned toward the others, his voice rising just enough for the rest of the VIPs to hear. “We’ll see about this.” His tone was still mocking, but there was a chill to it, like he was putting a pin in the situation for now, waiting for the next round.

You didn’t take a breath until the crowd began to slowly pull back, still murmuring, still watching like they were waiting for the next fight to break out. In-ho didn’t relax, but his presence softened, just enough for you to feel the change. His hand brushed lightly over your wrist as he turned, silently guiding you toward the exit. His pace didn’t falter, and you followed him without question.

The second you were out of the room, In-ho’s grip on your wrist loosened, and you felt the weight of everything press down on you. You stumbled slightly, but In-ho caught you before you could fall. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to—but the moment stretched out, his hand still steady on your back as he guided you down the hall toward your quarters.

As you walked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of their eyes on you, the hunger of their stares still burning against the back of your skull. You didn’t even want to imagine what they were thinking, what they were planning.

When you finally reached your door, In-ho didn’t hesitate. He unlocked it, led you inside, and then closed the door behind him with a soft click.

For a moment, everything was still. The world outside seemed miles away, but the memories of those men—of the laughter, the jeers, the way they saw you as nothing more than a game—were still there, lingering in the air.

In-ho didn’t speak immediately. He simply removed his mask, the last barrier between him and you. The moment it came off, it felt like a weight had been lifted from the room. For the first time, you saw him fully—no cold eyes, no emotionless expression, just In-ho. The man who had just stood between you and those monsters.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was hidden beneath the mask: the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He didn’t need to say a word. You knew how heavy the situation had been for him too.

“You’re safe now,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than you expected. But there was relief in it, an assurance that he wasn’t going to let you go.

The words didn’t make you feel safe, not really. Not in this world. Not when you knew what was still waiting out there. But they did something else. They reminded you that, even if your father didn’t lift a finger, even if you were alone in the chaos, you had In-ho. He was here. And that, for now, was enough.

You didn’t say anything at first. You couldn’t. Everything felt too much—too raw, too new. The feeling of being watched, of being cornered, was still fresh, still eating away at you. But you could feel In-ho there, steady and unshaken, even when you couldn’t be.

And then, without thinking, you stepped closer, your hand finding his. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t some romantic act—it was just a way to ground yourself. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to exhale.

But the night wasn’t over. The game was far from finished.

———————

Chapter 12! Updates might be coming slower as I’m back in school but we’ll see.. lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[niki-phoria]

花樣年華

pairing: park sunghoon x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 912

notes: inspired by in the mood for love bc it's my fav movie, i'm not sure how much sense this makes if you haven't seen the movie lol, begging and pleading on my knees pls dm me if you also like bae173, this is barely proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes <33

the night is filled with the heavy pattering of rain and the flickering glow of streetlights. no matter how quickly you race along the sidewalk, you can’t seem to escape the raindrops falling from above. taking a sharp right, you turn into a nearby alleyway. 

the small awning you find shelter beneath is a familiar one. you had grown accustomed to it - the noise of ceramic dishes clattering against each other from the nearby restaurant; the stray cats that would occasionally pace around the dumpsters searching for food; the kisses you would steal in the night. the cover overhead shielded you from the prying eyes of others. it protected you from the weight of your own feelings. 

you sigh quietly as you begin staring into space. stray droplets splash back up from the asphalt and land on the tips of your shoes. the sound of puddles splashing accompanies PARK SUNGHOON’S heavy footsteps as he runs through the alleyway, only slowing down once he reaches your side. from the corner of your eye, you just barely catch the way he folds his umbrella back inwards before leaning it back against the wall beside you. 

for a moment you just stand there; your bodies are side by side as you listen to the comforting noise of the heavy rainfall. sunghoon folds and unfolds his hands anxiously. he opens his mouth and then closes it. his mind races with possibilities of what to say before he finally settles on, “it’s raining so hard.”

you hum quietly. “mrs. suen thinks it’ll be good for the crops.”

sunghoon takes a step closer. his eyebrows furrow slightly when he leans in. he tentatively rests his hand against your cheek, examining your features in the darkness. “what were you thinking?” he chuckles almost exasperatedly. “it’s cold out. you’ll get sick.” 

“i wasn’t planning on being out this late,” you shrug. “i only came to get some noodles.” 

sunghoon purses his lips. his shoulders falter, but his hand doesn’t fall from its place against your cheekbone. instead, he runs his thumb against your skin. silence hangs heavy in the air. for a moment, you’re not sure if he wants you to pull away. if you should. 

“thank you for meeting me,” he finally says. “i know it was short notice.” 

you nod. “what did you want to talk about?” 

“i think you already know,” he sighs. your stomach twists itself into knots when his hand falls away from your face. despite yourself, you frown softly at the lost warmth. sunghoon pushes a hand through his hair. he catches his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before he takes another deep breath. 

your throat feels uncomfortably dry. you swallow harshly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze once again. “i didn’t think you’d fall in love with me.”

sunghoon chuckles dryly. he looks down at the ground as he kicks a small pebble beneath his foot. “i didn’t either.” 

this time, the silence is unbearable. you wrap your arms around yourself, shifting uncomfortably. the night is cold. the rain makes it even colder. and now the weight of sunghoon’s words hang heavy in the air. 

“do you ever think about it?” he finally asks. sunghoon turns, finally meeting your gaze once again. for just a second, you swear you can see the glint of tears in his eyes. “being together?”

you purse your lips. amidst the indiscernible chatter coming from the nearby restaurant and the still-heavy rainfall, you murmur, “of course i do.” 

his hands curl into fists at his sides. he steps closer - so close that you can almost feel his breath ghosting against your face. sunghoon moves quickly. his hands cup your cheeks as he leans in until there are only centimeters between you. “i love you,” he whispers. “i love you. i want to be with you.” he pauses. his eyes shut as he takes a breath. “please tell me you want this too.” 

“sunghoon,” you find yourself moving without thinking. your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. your heart beats erratically in your chest. “i love you too.” 

the man in front of you freezes for a moment. and then-

his lips meet yours in a flash. you get lost in the flurry of emotion. your fingertips tangle into the fabric of his jacket while his hands slide to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. sunghoon’s lips feel soft against your own. you gasp when he nips at your bottom lip, making him chuckle in response. it’s hard to focus on anything but him. 

when you finally pull away, you’re breathless. your lungs burn in your chest and you feel a little dizzy. “was that okay?” sunghoon asks. 

“it was perfect.” 

sunghoon steps out from beneath the awning. raindrops slide down the slides of his sleek black umbrella in waves. he pauses, hesitates for a moment, and then turns to face you once again. the warmth of his hand contrasts against the otherwise frigid night. somehow, sunghoon’s body fits perfectly with your own. his fingers slide until your hands are intertwined. you follow his lead, stepping out from beneath the awning and joining him under the safety of his umbrella. 

sunghoon smiles brightly. he tucks you closer to him until you’re both huddled together. “are you ready to go?” 

“yeah,” you say softly. for the first time that night, you can’t hide your smile. you gently squeeze his hand as you nod. “let’s go home.” 

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out more enha imagines or enha reactions <3

[livesincerely]

They arrive on scene—a grassy, fenced-in playground teeming with children and families—and are immediately met by a frantic young woman.

“Oh, thank god,” she says, a huge diaper bag thrown over one shoulder and her arms filled with screaming toddler. “I swear, I looked away for, like, two seconds, Jaime was crying and I couldn’t figure out where their mom packed the juice boxes and when I looked back, she was halfway up—“

“What’s her name?” Bobby interrupts.

“Harper,” she says. “She’s right over here—“

And sure enough, there in the far corner of the playground is a tall oak tree, and about twenty feet up that tree is a little girl. She’s maybe seven or eight at the most and clinging tightly to a branch, her face streaked with tears.

“Hey, Harper,” Bobby calls, calm and steady. “What’re you doing up there?”

“I’m stuck!” she wails.

“I can see that,” Bobby says. “Are you hurt at all?”

“‘M okay,” she sniffles. “But it’s too far, I can’t get down!”

“Hey, that’s alright, we’re gonna send someone up to come get you. You just sit tight and keep holding on, okay?” Bobby tells her. “We’ll get you down from there in no time.”

“No way we get the ladder in here,” Chim observes, pulling off his sunglasses. “We’re fenced in on all sides and the trees are too close together to get a good angle from the curb.”

“How’d she even get up there?” Ravi wonders, squinting up at her. “No way she’s tall enough to make the jump up to that first branch. I’m not tall enough to make that jump.”

“Never underestimate the ingenuity of a determined elementary schooler,” Hen says wisely.

“I can climb up to her,” Eddie volunteers.

He moves closer to the trunk, knocking against the bark to check for soft spots, but it seems simple enough, as far as he can tell. It’s a healthy tree with lots of thick, sturdy branches—plenty big enough to hold steady beneath his weight

“You sure?” Bobby asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, I got it. I just need a— a boost or a chair or something to get started, but I’ll be fine after that. Then she can hold on to me while I climb back down.”

He glances around, searching.

“Maybe we can drag that picnic table over and—“

“Here,” Buck says, stepping up behind him.

He fits his hands around Eddie’s hips, a long line of heat against his back.

“What are you—?”

Eddie’s feet leave the ground and all thoughts leave his head.

Buck lifts him like it’s not even hard, like he could do this all day, not a hint of strain in those massive biceps. Eddie fumbles clumsily for the branch, all the blood in his body rushing south so quickly he almost goes dizzy with it.

“Eddie?” Buck prompts, lifting him just a little higher—like maybe the problem is that Eddie can’t quite reach. Jesus, he doesn’t even sound winded.

“Right,” Eddie mutters, pulling himself the rest of the way up. “Uh huh, yep.”

[solivagant242]

jupiter ⋆｡°✩☾🪐

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: blood, some angst, fluff

this is based on the song jupiter by flower face, since it's my current obsession on spotify.

enjoy!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

overwhelming ecstasy

our bodies move in harmony

always waking breathlessly

from dreams that leave me wanting more of you

how long ago was it that you met? you can’t remember; far more years than seems possible. 

you’d been a wide-eyed, gangly kid with legs and arms that seemed too long for your body. 

you saw dean winchester for the first time in the driveway of his house, sitting outside on the curb and staring at the sky, painted richly by the evening colors. 

you didn’t know why he was outside so late- wasn’t it time for bed? your parents had already closed your door and tucked you in, the sultry summer air drifting in through the open window.

the window that was far too close to the ground outside for its own good.

you were outside and in the front yard in less than a minute, clutching the astronomy book you’d gotten for your eighth birthday to your chest. shyness swelled in your chest as you approached him, so still and dark-looking in the twilight. 

“are you looking for stars?”

he looks at you with his small face unreadable. “isn’t it too early?”

“a little. i think Jupiter is visible, though. if you look that way.”

you point towards the horizon and dean squints. “i can’t see anything.”

“it’s right there. see the bright?”

he looks, and his face softens. “oh. you’re right.”

that was how it started, on that hot july night so long ago. 

these silly games we play

stupid ways to make you stay

my heart's split open on display

i can't wait another day

to touch your face, to hold you

i just need you by my side tonight

you’re in high school now. towards the end of senior year. both you and sam have applied to college, and both of you have been accepted. him to stamford, you to princeton.

the letter is in your hand, the envelope freshly torn. 

dean’s face is swimming in front of you, tears clouding your vision. 

“please don’t go.”

your arms close around him, just like they always have. you hold his face close and kiss away his tears. 

overwhelming ecstasy

your name repeated endlessly

ice cream by the movie screens

we'll make out in the backseat of your car

ripped shirts and perfect throws

'til my body overflows

in the summer afterglow

i love you more than you will ever know

lazy summer nights, the feeling of dean’s lips and rough stubble. he’d grown bigger, older, harder somehow about his jaw and eyes.

but he’s soft with you. he’ll always be soft with you, his girl, his star girl. 

but it's alright

just keep it all inside tonight

we can leave right now, never come back home

you're all i need

forget everything that we used to be

take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter

we can run away

but i'll always be at home with you

“come with me,” dean pleads outside your window less than a year later. 

your face is streaked with tears again. you can hear the rumble of his car outside, a tight-faced sam in the passenger seat. “i can’t, dean. i can’t leave my parents, my home”-

he comes closer, cupping your face in his hands. “run away with me. i want to take you somewhere safe, somewhere you won’t have to worry- you don’t even have to stay with me if you don’t want to”-

his lips taste salty with your mingled tears. 

overwhelming ecstasy

your skin is like a melody

your heartbeat brings me to my knees

just begging for a chance to simply

taste the moonlight on your lips

the fever sings, the honey drips

curtains closed, the record skips

no one's has ever loved like this

silver light is draped across your bed, casting dappled shadows across your bare skin. you’re wrapped in dean’s arms, face buried in his chest.

his body is curled protectively around you. In the shadows of the dingy motel room, his face looks aged and worn and far older than it should. 

you trace his lips with your finger before nestling back into his embrace and drifting off to sleep. 

i'm certain, it must be holy

to feel something so pure

overwhelming ecstasy

twisted in your entropy

clinging to you desperately

and i can taste the sweetness of your breath

the hunt hasn’t gone well and dean has been getting quieter and quieter, those green eyes dulling. when he kisses you now, it feels almost starved. desperate, like he’s trying to drink you in and can never get enough.

his fingers leave red marks in your shoulders when he embraces you. his face always crumples when he sees them, the evidence of how rough he’s become, the life he’s living steadily battering at him.

you rock him to sleep with his head in your lap. 

the stars are screaming loud

the world outside is breaking down

burning cities, whispered vows

and i can feel you all around me

nothing feels the same

nothing feels quite like you

the world is falling. stars plummet from the sky, and creatures whose names you don’t know are livid in the gutters. everything is black, the end of the world looming over you.

dean holds you like a prayer, clutching your bruised and bloodied frame to his chest. his tears are falling fast, faster than your steadily ebbing life force. cas’ blue eyes are hopeless. 

“i can’t fucking lose you, sweetheart. not now. come back to me- come back”-

we can leave right now, never come back home

you're all I need

forget everything that we used to be

take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter

we can run away

but i'll always feel at home with you

and if you run, i'll be right behind you

you can feel dean’s rough hands on your skin. there’s a roaring in your ears that won’t dissipate, a dreamy euphoria settling into your bones.

for a moment you can swear you’re under the old tree at the winchester house, sharing the tire swing with dean, a mindless blur of stars lodging itself behind your eyes. you are young and innocent once more, and dean is resting his head on your shoulder-

but you can see a light in front of you, flickering in time with dean’s sobs, and you claw your way towards it. 

you cough out blood and dean breaks down in sobs, holding you to his dirty leather jacket at the sensation of your heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

we'll make it out

nothing left between us but light and sound

take me into outer space, fly me up to Jupiter

i am yours forever

and i'll always be at home with you

years later, many years later, when you and dean have found a permanent resting place beneath matching headstones, the angels still tell stories of you.

they speak of the pair of hunters whose love transcended pain and sorrow, who loved each other to death and back again.

and they name a new constellation after you, a scatter of glowing stars that surrounds Jupiter and is visible in the early morning and evenings. if you turn your head and squint, you can see that it faintly resembles the embracing arms of two lovers. 

and that’s what it’s called. the lovers. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

comment/reblog if you enjoyed this!

[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"The odds are ours."

Remy Lebeau x fem!reader

A/n: HERE IT IS!! it got delayed twice but its here!! thank you for all the love, for making this possible. Here's the FINAL part of the main series. To answer your question..no! the series is NOT over! i plan to continue this in little oneshots! tiny extras! now, without further ado! here's the last part! as usual, Angst/Comfort. Enjoy!! <3

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

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To say you were pissed was an understatement, you were livid.

You should have stayed. Ran back to the face you’ve been so familiar with for just a few hours. The very face that handed out a clean, fresh start. To forget the pain of the past, to live on with him.

But luck never favoured you. 

..Neither did gravity.

You learned that when your back slammed into a car. The force of it sent white hot pain up your spine and you could barely resist the urge to curl up and scream. First you leave behind a solid connection and now your ribs are broken. Nice.

Wade groans, hoisting himself off the car while Logan just..slumps.

“Holy shit that's deadpool!!”

“And wolverine!!”

..well, at least they don’t recognize you. You're half thankful, half offended.

“You're damn straight it is! Fox killed him. Disney brought him back! They're gonna make him do this till he’s ninety!”

Wade points his finger at Logan. Amusing the children and earning a scoff from the older man. You get a brief meeting of this..Peter guy that Wade has been yapping on about. He seems..sweet. Really sweet. That's a nice change. 

- - - - - - -

You follow the ketchup and mustard pots to the street. Seriously, the pain in your ribs is killing you. You’re almost tempted to ask Logan to carry you..or play dead.

That’s when you see him, the phony bastard. Paradox.

“No! Piss off! You’re too late!” 

He yells at all three of you, waving his arms until Logan snaps at him.

“You’re fuckin’ done.”

“Why was Thor crying!?”

  Wade jumps in, pointing an accusing finger...Well, now you just have to get a word in.

“Why’d you send him to get me!?”

You point to Wade. Seriously..why are you tangled up in this mess?

“How dare you! No one comes back from the void! I didn’t send him to get you! It was his idea!”

Paradox lets out a frustrated little huff. Logan speaks up, interjecting with an almost comedic growl.

“Tell that to Cassandra Nova.”

Oh, right on cue. The beam of orange tears into the empty space. The sound of boots and..it’s the man from before. The one Logan punched real hard. God you just want to see Remy again. 

“Paradox, we have a problem.”

His head twists to the side, A shuddering snap of bones occurs before Cassandra Nova steps out. Tossing the corpse to one side. She speaks, her tone is playful. Like she's bantering with Paradox.

“You tried to kill me.”

You tense up. Just the sight of her makes you feel cold. God, you wish you could just go straight back to Remy. The portal is open. The void is there. You can see it. Hell. Fuck it. 

You move to rush forward, not even paying attention to the conversation ahead..

“Now shoo. Mummy and daddy are having a conversation.”

You’re forced backwards, Flying back alongside Wade and Logan. At Least they’re cushioned by a car. You, on the other hand, smack to the ground with an obvious thud. You don’t have as much strength as you like, You can’t pull through, not like this. Your brain feels fuzzy, your eyelids are heavy and with one last curse from Wade..you fall unconscious.

- - - - - - -

The Fire is warm on your skin. It’s comforting. The familiar scent of burning wood and..Tobacco. Your head rests against the warmth of another body.

You jolt. You don’t even realise someone else is there, neither do you realise your surroundings.

The library. In the mansion. Your home.

You look up. You dread to see what you’ll find. Memories itching to tear from your weary bones. Begging for freedom against the confines of your mind..

But a familiar face stares back. Eyes soft with affection.

“Remy–”

The words die in your throat. You just stare. He takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Its soft, a gesture you could never scrub from your mind even if you tried.

“Mon amour..”

He coo’s so softly. It’s a sound you’ve missed. Before you can stop yourself. You throw your arms around his neck. WIthout missing a single beat, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I–I thought– I thought I'd never see you again! How— How is this–”

He stops you, pulling you away just to cup your face. He avoids the question. Instead..he gives you a word of advice.

“You need t’move on Chère. Dis ain’t healthy. Holdin’ onto the past.”

It makes you feel sick. Why is he telling you this? Does he not want you to stay?

“But– I can’t let you go–”

How could you? You’ve loved him for years. Your affection never wavered for him.

“I know dat. Trust me, Gambit knows all dat.”

Despite his instance, you couldn’t. Why? Why would you? He was..everything.

“It ain’t gon’ be easy..but you gotta try– Gambit don’t want you stressin’ for de rest o’ yer life..”

He leaned down, his hands resting on your shoulders. Such a foreign feeling but oh..you missed it.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. He pulls away so slowly, like it hurts him to part from you. He’s always been a gentleman, he breaks your heart so softly.

“You deserve good t’ings mon amour..all dat good stuff is gon’ be yours..you just gotta take it.”

The flames in the fire roar. It's sweating hot. Remy seems to panic a little. His brows knit together and he cups your face.

“You’re never gon’ have to carry de burden anymore– everythings gonna go.”

Is it selfish to say you don’t care? It might be. The people, the friends, the history. Gone.

But this place isn’t a home, no without him.

Your Remy. Your Dashing Cajun.

A man who has seen so much but never loves too little.

A fresh, painless start is what you need.

He’ll find you. He always does

- - - - - - -

Your head feels like it's splitting open. God, everything is hurting. Your ribs, your knees, your heart.

Fuck, what the hell happened?

Oh, right..

You sit up, immediately regretting the decision. Pain climbs up your spine, causing you to wince.

“Easy, bub.”

A gravely but surprisingly soft tone comes from the all familiar Logan.

His hand rests on your chest, gently pushing you to lay back down. For a moment, he watches you. Eyes taking inyour trembling form. His hand, still resting on your chest, twitches softly. These hands have spilled so much blood yet they’re so tender on the people he cares for. Hah, lucky you. Sneaking into Logan Howlett’s heart, making him play doctor. There's an authoritative yet parental touch.

He lets you relax before he breathes out a quiet sigh, shaking his head.

“Wade’s playing hero. Said something about a gift to you for all your..hard work.”

You can tell he’s trying not to laugh. A breathy chuckle leaves him as he sits back down in the arm chair.

“How long have i–”

Your voice is..embarrassingly raspy. Seems like it's been out of action for a bit but Logan knows what you're asking him.

“Day and a half at most. You ain’t missed much. We saved his universe and uh..essentially became his roommates. Hah. I see that look. You seriously thought you could get away from ol’ mouth?”

You throw your head back with a groan. Shaking your head. God, first you lose your home and you’re already checking in to a new one? It’s happening way too fast for you to even–

“You think I still have that spare mattress? I can’t remember if i tossed it out yesterday or–”

Wade, completely geared out in costume, casually struts out of that blazing orange portal with..

Remy. 

The Remy you met in that dump–

He’s battered, for sure. A nasty cut lines his cheek and his nose is coated in more of the sticky red liquid. He’s limping. Straining to get inside without toppling over. His usual charm seems to be tossed out the window as he coughs into his fist, shoulders trembling.

“Oh there’s our sleeping beauty! Hi sweetie! Did you have a nice coma? Look what your buddy Wade got ya– and he’s all yours! We can sort out a collar tomorrow–”

He’s obviously making it sound like Remy’s some kind of dog– leashed and collared and to be honest? He might as well be. Look at those puppy dog eyes.

“Chère..”

He breathes out so softly. For a moment..it’s like you’ve known him your whole life. Wade backs up and grabs Logan’s arm. Muttering about needing to “find the mattress.”

You rush forwards, stumbling slightly and without thinking you crash against the Cajun’s chest. It’s so warm, so comforting. A breath of fresh air after the polluted heartbreak. He caves immediately. He wraps his arms around you, cradling your head against his chest.

“There's my girl..”

He speaks so softly, like you’ll shatter under his touch. You know you're crying. Pitiful cries slip past and he hushes you softly like he did that night in the hideout. It breaks his heart to see more tears but he knows it's out of relief. 

There's no need for words, not when he swoops down to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to pepper your forehead in featherlite kisses. 

He came from nothing. Living off the scraps of garbage and the skills he had. You, a version of you, changed his life for the better. He lost you once before and now he’s never losing you again. This is the start of the best new leaf anyone could wish for. Some call it relighting old flames, but is it really an old flame if it never burnt out?

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. Something clicks in your head the minute he leans in closer..

He pauses, he's a breath away from taking your own but he waits..he needs to know you're ready. It doesn’t matter if it takes years. He’d wait a thousand years if it meant he got to return to your loving arms.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait any longer. You meet him in the middle.

His lips are incredibly soft against your own, he tastes like liquor..it's no surprise or a shock. You already knew the taste. It was seared into your mind for good.

He outright groans in satisfaction. You can tell he’s overjoyed by the way he fumbles. He’s not sure where to hold you. It's cute, his hands try to find purchase anywhere they can. They settle on your waist before his arms decide to wrap around you, pulling you in deeper.

He’s breathless when you pull back. Cheeks flushed such a pretty pink. The tips of his ears are red. His brows furrow before he noses your cheek lovingly and presses his forehead to yours.

This is exactly where he wants to be.

He lets out a breathy sigh once more, his gaze meets yours.

“Might need to start hopin’ through portals some more if I get welcomed like dis..”

He laughs softly when you hit his shoulder gently. He pecks your nose in response, squeezing your hips.

“Ah, Behave chère, Remy’s only teasin’..”

Such a fool, but he’s claimed himself as your fool. 

The odds have always been in his favour. And this time, they brought him home.

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Taglist: @techs-stitches @kaidan-z @tetra-stark @aisling1985 @trinswhimsys

Thank you all so much! i love you all SO MUCH!! <3

[ellswritings]

Code Breaker 1x12

“No, I’m not letting you leave them here,” Stiles shakes his head, his voice breaking at the thought of leaving them here to die. He couldn’t look Michael in the eye and tell him that he let his daughter bleed out on the lacrosse field.

Peter wiped the blood off the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, “You don’t have a choice, Stiles. You’re coming with me.”

“Just kill me!” Stiles screams. “I don’t care anymore!”

Peter walks over to the boy, sticking his claws under Stiles’ chin, lifting him up by simply using just the tips of his fingers. “Call your friend. Tell Jackson where they are. That’s all you get.”

Stiles pulls out his phone, his hands shaking as he calls Jackson. The explanation is rushed, leaving the blonde with a plethora of questions Stiles didn’t have time to answer. He feels like his world is falling apart every time his eyes meet Fallon’s form. He can’t even tell if she’s breathing. A few tears finally slip from his eyes, him quickly wiping them so Peter wouldn’t see. He just hopes that Jackson brings Issac or someone to get them both to the hospital.

The only thing Stiles didn’t seem to notice was the way Fallon slowly sits up as soon as he and Peter turn to walk away. Her mind is fogged, nothing making sense to her. There’s a dull sting in her side, she feels like she’s walking through a dream. The world around her seems to be in a purple haze. Every direction she looks is covered by the pretty color. She’s not quite sure if what’s happening is real, or if she died when Peter bit her. Lydia lays still beside her, shallow breaths leaving her body. Fallon tilts her head, feeling the urge to reach out and touch her, but a more primal need fills her. She has somewhere she needs to go. Someone she needs to find.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The woods were a maze of twisting shadows and silvery moonlight, and Fallon stumbled through them, disoriented, her mind fogged with confusion. She could barely remember how she’d gotten here. One moment she’d been at the dance, the next... darkness, followed by pain. Everything after that was a blur.

The only thing that seemed clear, cutting through the haze in her mind, was a single command that pounded with every beat of her heart: Find Derek.

But why? Why was that the only thought running through her mind? Her legs were heavy, her body exhausted, but she couldn’t stop moving. Fallon didn’t know how long she had been running. Maybe hours. Maybe minutes. Time seemed warped out here, twisted by the shadows and the overwhelming sense of urgency that filled her.

Find him.

The thought echoed in her head, like a voice that wasn’t her own, yet completely hers at the same time. She didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t ignore it. The forest pressed in around her, branches clawing at her arms and legs, her footsteps uneven and unsteady over the rough terrain. The cold bit at her skin, but there was a strange heat radiating from inside her, a burning sensation she couldn’t explain.

Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, each inhale sending a sharp pain through her chest. She stumbled over a root, her knee crashing into the earth as she hit the ground. Fallon groaned, clutching her side as she gasped for breath, but the pain didn’t stop her from getting back up.

She couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The moon hung high in the sky, bright and full, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Fallon stared up at it, squinting against the light. There was something about the moon tonight. It felt... powerful. She could feel its pull, like it was connected to her somehow, drawing energy from it. The burning in her veins flared again, and she clenched her fists, trying to fight off the sensation.

She had to keep moving. She had to find him.

Derek.

His name pulsed through her like a drumbeat, and her feet moved forward before she even realized it. Her body felt different, almost like it was working independently of her mind. Her senses were sharper—she could hear every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig underfoot, every breath of wind that swept through the trees.

But there was more than that. She could feel something else—something raw and primal stirring inside her. Something that both terrified and exhilarated her. It was as if her body was changing, becoming something new, something powerful. And it frightened her.

What is happening to me? Fallon wonders, her thoughts barely audible over the sound of her own rapid breathing.

The wind carried no answer, only the distant howl of a wolf in the night. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, her heartbeat quickening in response. She felt exposed out here, vulnerable, yet stronger than she’d ever felt before. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

She pressed on, her feet sinking into the damp earth as she moved deeper into the woods. The trees loomed over her, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to grab her. But Fallon barely noticed. Her mind was too clouded, too focused on finding him.

Derek. He was the key to this, wasn’t he? He had to be. Why else would her mind keep returning to him? She needed answers, and Derek was the only one who could give them to her.

But where is he? Why does she need to find him?

The moonlight flickered between the trees, casting strange shadows that danced across the ground as Fallon wandered deeper into the forest. Every step felt heavier than the last, her body aching from the relentless push forward. She wasn’t even sure where she was anymore. The forest seemed endless, and every direction looked the same.

Her pulse was racing, and the burning sensation in her chest only intensified the further she went. Fallon could feel it, that primal energy, bubbling just beneath the surface of her skin. She didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know if she could stop it.

The branches whipped at her as she broke through the thicket, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She had to slow down. Just for a moment. She needed to think, to figure out what was happening to her. But every time she tried to focus, her mind clouded again, that same thought overpowering everything else.

Find him.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stumbles into the hospital, out of breath and a strong feeling of panic in his chest. Nurses, Doctors, and patients all whirl around him, only making his anxieties grow. He just got away from Peter, the older man stealing his Jeep in the process. He got Derek’s location for the man and now his only priority is finding Lydia and Fallon. His only hope now is that they’re still alive for him to find.

He charges forward once he sees Lydia’s room, but is stopped by his father. Noah pushes him back slightly, jabbing his pointer finger into his son's chest. “You know what? It’s good that we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles stammers emotionally, “I’m– I’m sorry. I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here,” he explains trying to get a glimpse of the strawberry blonde. He hasn’t heard anything about Fallon yet.

“Stiles, I don’t care!” Noah exclaims angrily.

The boy finally sees Lydia in full, the girl completely unconscious, receiving her oxygen through a tube. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asks tiredly.

Noah sighs, looking back at the teenage girl with unsure eyes. “They don’t know…” he answers. “Partially because they don’t know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there’s something else going on with her.”

Stiles’ chest tightens, “W-what do you mean?” He asks broken heartedly.

“The doctors say it’s like she’s having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock.”

Stiles’ face falls as he realizes that means her body could be rejecting the bite. Suddenly a more prominent worry takes over his mind. “W-what about Fallon?” he asks with wide eyes. “Where is she? They told me Lydia was up here, but I didn’t hear anything about Fallon.”

Noah’s face scrunches in confusion. His own heart rate quickening, “What do you mean, ‘what about Fallon?’” He questions his son.

“Wait–” Stiles’ lip quivers. “Did Jackson not bring her in? I told him that Fallon and Lydia were on the lacrosse field,” his breathing quickens when he watches his dad get very worried in a short span of time.

“Stiles, Lydia was the only one Jackson brought in.” Noah reveals.

“No–” Stiles shakes his head, trying to keep his fear at bay. Where could she have gone? She was unconscious. “No. Dad, she was there, okay? She was hurt, bad. Like bleeding out from a wound on her side bad. She’s supposed to be here. Why– why isn’t she here? She couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away!”

Noah’s heart drops, but he calmly presses the button on his radio, “All units, I need an APB out on a missing girl. Brown hair, about 5’5, blue eyes.”

“She was wearing a pink sparkly dress with a slit on the side,” Stiles interjects, trying to give as much detail as possible.

His dad nods, ”Her name is Fallon Donovan. Was last seen wearing a pink dress with glitter embedded in it. She won’t have any ID on her, and according to a witness is injured. Wound to the side.”

Stiles runs a frustrated hand through his buzzed hair, his breathing more ragged than ever. He lost his best friend. His best friend since third freaking grade. He lost her. She could be dead, and it’s all because he let Peter control him.

Peter. Maybe he’s the reason she’s gone. Did he send someone to get her body? Why would he do that when he promised he wouldn’t hurt them? His mind runs at a million miles a minute until his dad pulls him out of the rabbit hole he’s going down.

“Stiles,” he snaps his fingers. “Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them? We could use that to try and narrow down the search.”

Telling his father about Peter would mean revealing the entirety of the supernatural to him. He couldn’t risk putting his father in danger. “No,” he lies, hoping there’s another way to find Fallon. “No, I have no idea.”

“What about Scott?” Noah questions.

“What do you mean? What about him?”

“Did he see anything?” Noah elaborates, practically working with nothing to try and find his own best friend's daughter.

“What do you–” Stiles breathes out, confused. “Is he not here?”

“What are you talking about?” Noah furrows his eyebrows. “I've been calling him on his cell phone. I've gotten no response.”

That’s when Stiles remembers. Scott doesn’t have his phone. Derek does. “Yeah…” he mutters looking down to his feet. “And you’re not gonna get one.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon staggers, her legs nearly giving out beneath her as she pressed her back against a tree, trying to catch her breath. The world around her seemed to spin, the trees blurring into a dizzying swirl of darkness and light.

Her chest ached, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her skin prickling as that strange energy surged through her once again. It was almost too much, like her body was on fire from the inside out. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself.

The urge to give up is present, but she needs him. She needs to know where he is. If he’s okay. If he can help her.

She pushed herself off the tree, her legs trembling as she forced herself to keep moving. There was no time to rest, no time to stop. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep going, but she didn’t have a choice.

Suddenly, she heard it—a growl, low and menacing, echoing through the trees.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she froze, her eyes darting through the darkness. The sound sent a wave of fear through her, but there was something else, too. A strange sense of familiarity. The growl wasn’t just any growl.

It was Derek.

Without thinking, Fallon took off in the direction of the sound, her legs moving on instinct alone. Her mind was too foggy to fully process what was happening, but she knew she had to reach him. She had to find him.

Branches snapped beneath her feet as she raced through the forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Fallon’s heart pounds loudly. She was getting closer. She could feel it.

The ground seemed to slope downward, and Fallon stumbled, her body careening forward as she slid down the incline. She hit the ground hard, her knees scraping against the dirt, but she barely registered the pain. She pushed herself back up, her pulse racing as she darted forward again.

The growl came once more, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was closer now. Much closer. Fallon’s heart raced as she pushed herself harder, her legs burning as she sprinted through the trees.

The moonlight flickered overhead, casting strange shadows that seemed to dance around her. But Fallon didn’t care. All she could think about was Derek, and the primal, animalistic sound of his growl pulling her forward.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the growl stopped.

Fallon skidded to a halt, her breath catching in her throat as she stood in the middle of a small clearing. The forest was eerily silent now, the wind barely rustling the leaves overhead. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she scanned the area, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Derek?” Fallon’s voice was shaky, her body trembling from both fear and exhaustion.

But there was no response.

The silence was deafening, and Fallon’s heart sank as she realized she was alone again. She hadn’t found him. Not yet. But she was close. She had to be.

Her legs felt like they were made of lead as she took a few hesitant steps forward, her chest heaving with each breath. The burning sensation in her veins has intensified, and Fallon could feel her body vibrating with that strange energy. It was overwhelming, like her body was on the verge of breaking apart.

She staggers forward, clutching her chest as she gasps for breath. The moon seemed impossibly bright overhead, its light almost blinding as it bathed the clearing in an otherworldly glow. Fallon squinted against it, her vision blurring as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

She shakes her head, the purple in her vision becoming more clear as she tries to push through. A low growl emits from her own chest as a newfound energy finds its way into her veins. She sucks in a breath, the pine trees above making her chest pang from the freshness. The air is too crisp to avoid the jabbing in her chest, but she ignores it.

The growl she heard reverberates in her head as she tries to follow the sound. It scares her how her body seems to know exactly where to go just by sound alone. She replays it over and over again until her body halts in front of a familiar structure.

The Hale House.

Her brows furrow, until she gets a rather strong smoky scent of leather and pine. It fills her nose and she closes her eyes. It’s him. He’s here. That’s when she also notices a different scent lingering in the air. It’s familiar to her. Fresh soap, cedar, with a slight hint of eucalyptus. It smells energetic and warm. Much like Scott. He’s here too. He found Derek the same way she did.

She travels through an unnecessary amount of brush and weeds, finding an underground entrance. Her mind is still repeating the same mantra over and over again. The scent gets stronger and pulls her through the winding pathways of the underground looking jail. All of her senses are on overdrive. She can hear, smell, and see things that no normal human should be able to.

“Ready for some more fun?” A dark voice fills her ears. She assumes it’s a hunter. She’s careful not to give away her location, walking on the tips of her toes to remain unnoticed. “To be honest, my knuckles are kind of hurting... So, I brought some help. But, I need to warn ya– I used to play in college.”

She stops when she hears the sound of the bat being caught. Right before she turns a corner, she notices Scott standing in the middle of the hallway, no doubt staring the hunter down. “…I brought a little help too.” Derek reveals.

Scott moves smoothly into the room, eyes glowing yellow as Derek knocks the hunter out. Fallon wonders how neither of them have picked up on her scent, but that’s a question for later. She clutches her side, the bleeding slowing, but still rather prominent.

Chains rattle as she moves further down the way. The brunette stops right before the room Derek’s being held in. She peeks around the corner, watching Derek struggle to pull his other arm out of its restraint.

“Scott, help me with this,” he commands urgently, not wanting to get caught by Kate who is no doubt going to return soon.

“No.”

Fallon fights the primal urge to growl at the defiance. She doesn’t understand why her anger is so high, but what she does understand is that Derek needs help. And if Scott isn’t going to do it, then she will.

“What?” Derek looks at Scott in disbelief.

The younger boy takes a brave step forward, standing up to Derek, “Not until you tell me how to stop Peter.”

Derek tugs at the chain again, “You really wanna talk about this right now?” He asks exasperatedly.

“He’s going after Allison and her family. He’s going to kill them.”

“So what?!” Derek shouts, not exactly caring if the Argents end up dead. Fallon can feel his anger, the bubbling rage that he uses to keep himself human. The purple tint over her eyes makes the room around her look much more menacing, darker than it actually is. She hides in the shadows, creeping carefully against the wall, using the lack of light to her advantage.

“So, tell me how to stop him,” Scott demands calmly.

“You can’t!” Derek reality checks him. “All right?” He once again frustratedly tugs in the chains holding him in place. He angrily looks at Scott, “Now, I don’t know when Kate’s coming back, so just get me out of this right now! Get me out right now!”

“Promise you’ll help me,” Scott persists.

“You want me to risk my life for your girlfriend?” Derek asks furiously, baring his teeth at Scott. “For your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing? You're not in love, Scott! You're sixteen years old! You're a child!”

“Maybe you're right…” Scott nods, conceding to his point. “But, I know something you don't. Peter said he didn't know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right? He lied.” He pulls out a crumpled up autopsy report from his pocket, holding it up for Derek to read. “Remember this?” There’s a dead deer in the center, a spiral embedded into its side. “This is what brought your sister back to Beacon Hills, right?”

“Where did you get that?” Derek asks breathily.

“My boss told me three months ago, someone came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. Do you wanna know who it was?” Scott asks rhetorically, planning on revealing the information without an answer. “Peter's nurse. They brought your sister here so that Peter could kill her and become the Alpha, and that's why you're going to help me.”

Derek’s jaw clenches with anger, his nose flaring as he processes the new information. He balls his locked up hand into a fist, making Scott think he’s still being defiant. The boy turns around with a sigh, “Just say you’ll help me, and I’ll help you unlock your other–”

Fallon takes that as her opportunity, she sneaks up behind Derek, ripping the cuff off of his wrist. Scott stops in his tracks when he hears the metal hitting the ground. He spins around and sees Derek freed, with a very dazed Fallon standing behind him, her eyes flashing purple.

“Fallon?” Scott’s eyes widen. It takes Derek a moment to process that the girl is the one who just released him. He takes in her appearance. Still in her winter formal dress, the right side of it torn and drenched with blood. Her feet are caked with mud and dirt and that’s when he realizes Peter did exactly what he told him not to.

“He bit her,” Derek says angrily.

“Derek…” the girl mumbles, swaying back and forth on her feet. “Found… you,” she barely manages to get that out before collapsing. Derek surges forward, catching the girl in his arms.

He cranes his neck to fully assess the wound, his heart pounding rapidly. His breathing speeds up and his eyes grow worried at the thought of her dying from this. But he slowly calms when he sees that the injury is healing. Her body isn’t rejecting the bite. But she’s still in no condition to be running around in the woods.

“We need to get her out of here,” Derek says. “Now.”

Scott nods his head in agreement, leading the way out of the cellar. They climb uphill and out of the gate and begin trudging through the forest. Fallon’s limp body sways back and forth, Derek cupping the back of her head so she doesn’t accidentally break her neck.

“I don’t understand,” Scott turns to the man. “If he just bit her, how did she know where to find you? I didn’t even think people could adjust that quickly after being bitten.” He says, completely lost as he stares at his best friend with concern.

“I don’t know…” Derek mutters. “But she hasn’t completely adjusted, that’s why she passed out.”

Fallon’s eyes flutter open, but this time they’re her regular color. She groans as the pain in her side returns, no longer just a dull ache. It’s come back with a stinging vengeance. Though the wound is definitely not as bad as it would be if she wasn’t rapidly healing.

She startles when she notices she’s in Derek’s arms. The last thing she remembers was running outside to find Lydia. “Derek…?” She questions, voice groggy. Her head spins and that’s when she notices her best friend, “Scott?”

“Fallon!” Scott exclaims, practically ripping the girl out of Derek’s arms.

She wriggles her way out of Derek’s hold, planting her wobbly feet on the ground. She uses Derek’s shoulder for support. “What the hell happened?” She asks, looking at her own appearance with disgust. “And why am I in the middle of the woods?” That's when she suddenly remembers what Derek did to her a mere few days ago. She slaps his chest roughly, “And where have you been?! You sneak into my room and try to kill me only to disappear for two freaking days!”

“You tried to kill her?” Scott asks angrily.

“I didn’t try to kill her,” Derek rolls his eyes, annoyed. “I gave her a warning, one she clearly didn’t listen to considering the fact she has a whole chunk missing from her side.”

“I didn’t exactly have time to build a relationship with a whole family of hunters,” Fallon replies snidely. “I had about as much time as you were missing.” She looks down at her hip, swallowing thickly as she watches the skin literally mend back together. “So– I–” she sucks in a breath. “Does this mean that I’m…?” She looks at Scott and Derek, both of them sensing the fear in her.

“We don’t know yet,” Scott says comfortingly. “We didn’t see much, but you managed to find Derek on your own. You don’t remember any of it?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “The last thing I remember was going to find Lydia on the lacrosse field. She was looking for Jackson.”

“Well,” Scott sends Derek a worried look. The only thing they do know is that she’s not a normal werewolf. At least not one they know of. Her eyes were purple. “We don’t know for sure, but we do know that you’re something.” He watches as her face falls and tears begin to well up behind her eyes. Of course, being who she is, she tries to hide them. “I’m sorry, Fall.”

She sniffles, waving her hand in the air. “It’s fine,” she mumbles. “I’m fine. Can we please just get out of here?”

Derek has never felt more guilty. He told her he wouldn’t let her get bit. He might’ve threatened her, but that doesn’t mean he actually wanted this to happen. His goal was to protect her, and he did the exact opposite. The very person he’s been helping hurt her. Knowing Peter killed his sister and deliberately went behind Derek’s back to bite Fallon makes the man beyond furious.

Scott helps Fallon climb up the small hill that leads away from the Hale house. All the girl wants to do is sleep for the next twenty years. She’s never felt more exhausted in her life. But apparently, traveling with these two means that request is simply too much to wish for.

“Hey, hold on, hold on, hold on,” Derek stops them, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He analyzes the woods around them. “Something doesn't feel right.”

Scott slings Fallon’s arm over his shoulder, trying to ease the pain she’s feeling as much as possible. Now that her adrenaline has worn off, she’s going to feel the ache of the bite for the next hour or so. That's what happened to him. “What do you mean?” He asks, both him and Fallon trying to see what’s making him skeptical.

“ I don't know,” Derek exhales. “It’s- it's kind of like it was–”

“No!” Scott interjects loudly. “Don’t say ‘too easy.’ People say ’too easy’ and bad things happen,” Derek rolls his head to the side irritatedly. Scott raises his eyebrows challengingly, “What, do you think finding you was easy? Getting away from Allison's dad? Fallon getting bit by your uncle?! None of this has been easy!” He exclaims.

Derek nods his head with a sigh, realizing he might be being a bit over dramatic. “Fine. You're right.”

Scott throws his head back, “Thank you. Now can we please go–”

Scott is cut off by a loud and high pitched whirring. Fallon’s head snaps into the direction it’s coming from, and she gasps as an arrow lodges itself into Derek’s shoulder. He topples over weakly, the wind being knocked out of him as his energy is still depleted after being tortured for the past two days.

“Derek!” She yells, rushing over to him. Another arrow flies through the air, nailing him in the leg. She drops down next to him, moving quickly to try and remove the arrows. She glances in the direction where Derek once had suspicions of and she sees Allison with a large bow in her hand, Kate standing by her side. She whispers something into her niece's ear.

“Now the flash-bolt.”

Fallon’s eyes widen, “Scott!” She screams. “Cover your eyes!” She surges forward, hiding Derek and her own face with her arms, hoping Scott had enough time to do it for himself.

He didn’t. The arrow fires, hitting the tree next to him. A bright light flashes, momentarily blinding the werewolf as he also falls to the ground. He grunts out in pain, the bright light giving him an instant headache. Derek clenches his teeth as Fallon finally pulls out the arrow in his leg. “I know, I know,” she says. “I’m sorry. But you gotta get up.”

She pulls him to his feet, their combined strength being enough to get both of them up. They pull each other closer to Scott, Derek grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. They stumble and fall as they try to run away. Fallon trips over a branch on the floor in front of the Hale house due to Derek losing his grip on her. All three of them fall to the floor, incapacitated in some way.

“Fallon! Scott! Go!” Derek begs them, hoping that they can find a way to escape. Scott sits there, his vision still not fully focused as Allison comes out of the tree line. Fallon grits her teeth in pain, having fallen on the side that’s still healing. Once Derek sees the hunter coming, he pulls Fallon over to him, blocking her body with his own.

Scott scoots backwards as his girlfriend/ex-girlfriend continues stalking towards him. “Allison, I can explain,” he says in a panic.

“Stop lying,” the girl stops him, not interested in what he has to say. “For once, stop lying,” she hisses.

“I was gonna tell you the truth at the formal. I was gonna tell you everything... because everything that I said, everything that I did–

“Was to protect me,” Allison interrupts rudely. She tilts her head condescendingly as Scott looks up at her with pleading eyes.

“Yes,” the boy confirms.

Tears well up in Allison’s eyes. She shakes her head at his sentiment, “I don’t believe you.”

Kate groans in relief, nonchalantly waltzing over to the scene with a gun in hand. “Thank God,” she huffs tiredly. “Now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.”

Fallon feels Derek tense up when Kate draws near. The newly bitten girl reaches forward, gently placing her hand on Derek’s back to assure him she’s still there. She shuffles around, moving into a more defensive position. Watching Allison betray her friends so easily makes Fallon realize where her loyalties really were this entire time. They were never safe with her. Maybe Peter was right.

Allison looks back at her aunt nervously. She blinks a few times, not comprehending the request. “You… you said we were just gonna catch them.”

“We did that,” Kate nods patronizingly. “Now we’re gonna kill them.” She raises her gun, firing one shot at Derek’s chest, right where Fallon had just pulled out the arrow. Fallon goes to try and attack the woman, but Kate is quick to cock the gun at her. She tilts her head, a menacing smile covering her face. “Too bad you had to go getting involved in things that didn’t concern you,” she pouts fakely. “I actually kind of liked you.” That’s when she pulls the trigger, a bullet whizzing into Fallon’s thigh. She grunts in pain, falling to the floor as blood pools around the wound. She starts applying pressure to it, trying to get the bullet to come to the surface. She remembers Derek saying that it won’t heal unless the bullet is out.

Allison feels the urge to run towards Fallon, but stops when Kate approaches her. “She-she’s innocent,” Allison says with glossy eyes. “She hasn’t done anything. She isn’t a werewolf.”

“Oh honey,” Kate giggles. “Why don’t you look at that big bite mark on her side? I’d beg to differ.” She turns her attention back towards a terrified looking Scott. “Now kill him.” Allison shifts uneasily. Her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for what to do. She can’t just kill the boy she loves. Kate’s face falls, a small groan leaving her lips. “Oh no… I know that look. That’s the ‘you’re gonna have to do it yourself’ look.” She sighs, clicking her tongue, but doesn’t hesitate to hold her gun up, directly aligned with Scott’s head.

Fallon ignores the bullet still lodged in her leg as she tries to crawl towards Scott. However, Derek is able to gain enough strength to pull her back down. He tugs the girl into his chest, preventing her from going anywhere near Kate or Allison. She whispers Scott’s name, calling for him, telling him to run. She wants to protect him, to throw her body in front of his, but Derek’s tight hold stops her. He keeps his arms coiled around her midsection, not giving her any room to escape.

Allison surges forward, “Kate– Kate, what are you doing?!” She tries to stop her aunt, but Kate is quick to shove Allison to the ground.

The older woman tilts her head, “I love those brown eyes…” She cooes before placing her finger methodically on the trigger, but just as she’s about to shoot, someone calls her name.

Chris.

“Kate!” The man’s commanding voice gets all of their attention. His gun is gripped tightly in his hand as he stares down his sister. He takes a step forward, “I know what you did,” he says accusatively. “Put the gun down.”

As the chaos unfolds around them, Fallon lays on the cold ground, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The pain from the gunshot wound radiates through her body, mingling with the strange, pulsing energy coursing under her skin as the transition into a werewolf slowly takes hold. She clutches her thigh, her fingers slick with blood, as Derek pushes himself up beside her, his own pain evident but masked behind his usual stoic expression.

"You need to focus," Derek murmurs, his voice low, barely above a whisper as he presses his hand over her wound, applying gentle pressure. His face is tight with pain, but his gaze never wavered from hers. "You’re healing… but you need to control it."

Fallon clenches her jaw, fighting to keep the overwhelming pain at bay. “It hurts, Derek…” Her voice is strained, barely managing to push the words out as her body trembled. She could hear Kate and Chris arguing in the background, but it felt distant, almost like a blur compared to the searing heat of her wound.

“I know,” Derek replies, his voice still calm, though the urgency in his eyes was clear. "But you’re stronger than this. The moon is giving you strength. Use it."

She nods weakly, squeezing her eyes shut. The energy from the moon seemed to flicker within her, almost like it was waiting for her to take control, but it was slipping through her fingers. Her breaths were shallow, each one sending a sharp pain through her chest.

Derek’s hand moves to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. His face was closer now, his eyes piercing through the fog of pain clouding her mind. “Fallon, breathe. You have to let the pain fuel you, not overwhelm you.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze meeting his, the connection between them grounding her in a way nothing else could. For a moment, the chaos around them fell away, and it was just Derek—steady, strong, a quiet force anchoring her. Fallon took a shaky breath, her fingers curling around his wrist for support. The warmth of his skin against hers was the only thing keeping her tethered to the moment.

“I’m trying,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Derek’s grip tightened, a flicker of something almost gentle in his otherwise stoic expression. "I know you are. You’re going to heal, Fallon. You’re not going anywhere."

The sound of Kate’s voice rang out again, “I did what I was told to do.” It’s a harsh contrast to the moment between them, but Derek didn’t flinch. Fallon, despite the agony she felt, found strength in his words. She took a deep breath, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest next to hers, feeling the energy begin to shift inside her. The pain was still there, but it was duller now, less consuming.

"Stay with me," Derek murmurs, his voice low but firm. "Just a little longer."

Fallon nodded, her hand still holding onto him as the faint glimmer of healing began to take over. She wasn’t sure if she could fight off the transition completely, but with Derek beside her, she knew she wasn’t alone.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people! There were children in that house, ones who were human,” he stares at his sister with nothing but disappointment in his eyes. ”Look what you're doing now! You're holding a gun at a sixteen-year-old boy with no proof he's spilled human blood! We go by the Code– Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Allison whispers, suddenly regretting all of this evening's choices.

Kate rolls her eyes, moving to try and shoot Scott again, until Chris points his gun directly at her head. “Put the gun down,” he commands firmly. When Kate doesn’t surrender, he pulls the trigger, the bullet barely missing Kate’s face, launching into the tree behind her. “Before I put you down,” his voice is laced with warning.

Kate finally listens, allowing Scott a moment to breathe. Then there’s a small creaking sound that makes everyone tense up as they look to the front door of the burnt down house. Derek is quick to scoot him and Fallon back, both of them getting the sense that the following events are not going to be pretty.

“Allison,” Chris cautiously calls out to his daughter. “Get back.”

The door opens slowly, an eerie tone filling the atmosphere. Chris and Kate’s gun immediately goes to the door. Scott shoots up to his feet, claws out and ready for a fight. Derek and Fallon on the other hand stand up slowly and carefully. Derek’s eyes flash blue, “Stay behind me,” he whispers.

Fallon scoffs, her own eyes flashing back at him in offense. She can’t control them, but it was the perfect moment of retaliation. “No,” she defies him, moving to stand at his side. “I’m helping.”

He growls under his breath, but figures this isn’t the best time to lecture her. He rolls his neck, his Cannes slowly revealing themselves. Fallon gulps, realizing that might be her by the time the next full moon rolls around.

Instead of heeding her father’s warning, Allison gets up and grips her bow tightly. “What is it?” She questions.

“It’s the Alpha,” Scott answers.

One by one, the circle of people are taken down by Peter. Chris goes down first, then Allison, and then Scott. Which leaves Kate being the only one standing. She spins around, trying to catch Peter in a moment of weakness, her gun at the ready. “Come on!” She taunts the powerful man, urging him to try and get her. “Come on!”

For whatever reason, Peter leaves Derek and Fallon untouched. They both watch curiously, waiting for a moment to intervene. But watching Kate squirm wasn’t such a terrible thing. Fallon would probably have cared a bit more if the woman hadn’t just shot here a mere three minutes ago.

As Kate spins around once more, Peter appears in front of her. His hand grabs her wrist, the one holding the gun. She grunts out in pain as he squeezes her arm so tightly that his knuckles turn white. She fires her gun, desperately hoping one of the bullets hits him, but it’s of no use. Every single one of them fly in the air, the casings gracefully falling down to the floor.

Peter hits her hand roughly causing the blonde woman to scream and drop her gun. Her scream is halted by Peter wrapping his hand around her neck. Apparently the Hale’s have a thing for strangulation. She screams in pain as Peter chucks her across the clearing and onto the front porch of the house. She cries out, her back hitting the rotting wood with a loud thud before Peter drags her into the house.

“No!” Allison screams, running into the house in hopes of saving her aunt.

A lot of commotion goes on inside the house. Derek moves to go towards the front door, but once he notices Fallon trying to follow him, he stops. He grabs her by the arms, picking her up and setting her down far behind him. “You’re not coming with me,” he says.

“Yes,” she corrects him. “I am.”

“No,” he mocks her tone. “You’re not. You’re going to stay out here where it’s safe.”

“The second you leave I won’t be safe!” She argues with him. “Just stop being a stubborn ass and let me go with you!”

Derek lets out an annoyed breath, but nonetheless allows the brunette to follow him in. Scott also joins them as they dart inside the house, just in time as Peter starts to advance on Allison. Scott and Derek transform easily, baring their teeth as they get ready to attack Peter. Loud growls escape their lips as Fallon just stands there, struggling to even get her claws to show. They make this look much easier than it actually is.

Scott charges towards Peter, the two of them fighting which gives Derek enough time to help Fallon. “Stop thinking so much!” He yells at her. “It won’t happen if you overthink it.”

“I’m trying, Derek!” She snaps, ducking as a piece of wood flies at her head, courtesy of Scott and Peter. “Not exactly like riding a bike!”

Peter turns his attention towards his nephew after he’s satisfied with throwing Scott around. Derek grunts, “Dig deep!” He advises. “Find something that makes you angry. That makes your pulse rise, and lean into it.”

Peter laughs, punching Derek in the face with no remorse. “She’s not ready. You’re sending her to her death, Derek.”

Scott stands up and lunges at Peter, claws outstretched, but Peter sidesteps effortlessly, sending him crashing into the wall. Fallon watches, heart racing, knowing she needs to help, but her body isn't responding. She’s stuck between human and whatever she is, unable to break free.

“Fallon!” Derek barks at her. “You can do this. Focus on your heart rate. Get angry and use it.”

Fallon squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to block out the sound of Peter’s taunts, the chaos around her. She focuses on the rhythmic pounding of her heart, letting it grow louder in her ears. She thinks about the fear she felt for Allison, the anger towards Peter, and the fire in her blood when Derek yelled at her. The tension of the moment surges through her body, sparking something deep inside.

Her pulse quickened, and with it, she felt the shift. Her body responded, bones snapping and realigning as her form began to change. The pain is excruciating, but she embraces it, letting the power of the full moon wash over her. Her senses sharpening, her vision clearing, and suddenly, the wolf inside her is unleashed.

The energy coursing through her feels unstoppable, like she can tear the entire house apart with her bare hands. She locks eyes with Peter, her eyes glowing a bright shade of purple, her lips curling back into a snarl as she steps forward, her claws glinting in the dim light.

Peter’s smirk falters, just for a moment, as he takes in her form. “Interesting,” he muses, “but still inexperienced.”

Fallon charges at him, moving faster than she ever thought possible, her claws slicing through the air. Derek and Scott flank her, working together to keep Peter on the defensive. Fallon’s blows are powerful, each one sending shockwaves through the room, but Peter dodges them with ease, his experience as an Alpha giving him the upper hand.

Scott manages to land a punch to Peter’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. Fallon sees her opening and leaps forward, swiping at his chest with all her strength. Her claws meet flesh, leaving deep gashes across Peter’s torso, but it isn’t enough to bring him down.

Peter roars in fury, his red eyes glowing with rage as he swipes at Fallon, knocking her off her feet. She crashes into the wall with a grunt, the wind knocked out of her. Before she can recover, Peter is on her, his hand wrapping around her throat as he lifts her off the ground.

“You think you can fight me?” Peter growls, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re nothing but a child playing with power you don’t understand.”

Fallon claws at his arm, trying to break free, but his grip is like iron. She gasps for air, her vision blurring as the edges of her consciousness begin to fade.

Suddenly, Derek is there, ramming into Peter and knocking him off balance. Fallon falls to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Derek stands over her protectively, his own body battered but still standing strong.

Scott joins them, standing beside Derek as the two of them face off against Peter. "Fallon, stay down!" Scott shouts, but Fallon isn’t done yet. She pushes herself to her feet, her body trembling with exhaustion but her determination unwavering.

Peter chuckles darkly, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Is this all you’ve got? Three against one, and you still can’t take me down?”

The three of them run at Peter together, their attacks coordinated, but it still isn’t enough. Peter is faster, stronger, and more experienced. He blocks their blows with ease, countering with vicious strikes that send them sprawling across the room.

Fallon tries to stand again, but her body wouldn’t obey. The shift has taken too much out of her, and her strength is fading fast. She watches as Derek and Scott continue to fight, but they are losing ground.

Peter grabs Scott by the throat, lifting him off the ground just as he had with Fallon. Derek tries to intervene, but Peter swatted him away like he was nothing. “This ends now,” Peter growls, his red eyes glowing with lethal intent.

He throws Scott out of what could’ve been the only window left standing in this house. His body hits the woodsy floor with a loud crash, leaving Derek and Fallon badly beaten on the floorboards inside. Peter jumps out the window, fully transformed as he focuses his full attention on Scott. Fallon groans as she tries to crawl over to Derek who is writhing in pain on the floor. She hears a loud honk from outside and immediately gets a whiff of Stiles’ scent.

“I’ll be back,” she whispers to Derek, placing her palm on his chest. “Don’t move. Let yourself heal,” she instructs him, leaving before he could protest.

Once she exits the house, she jumps backwards as a bottle of liquid flies past her and towards Peter. A Molotov cocktail. She smiles, happy Stiles remembered that little tidbit from the night in the school. Unfortunately, Peter catches the flask with ease.

“Oh, damn…” Stiles says weakly.

Scott’s eyes travel to Allison’s bow and arrow. His golden eyes light up with an idea, “Allison!” He shouts, throwing the weapon over to her. Fallon is quick to jump out of the way as the hunter fires an arrow, hitting the glass dead on. The collision causes the flask to explode, fire encasing Peter’s form.

Everyone watches in complete horror as the man tries to put out the flames on his arm, but it’s no use. Especially when Jackson chucks another flask at him, hitting his other side. His entire body is now on fire. He growls in pain, staggering aimlessly around the front yard of his old home. Fallon would feel bad for the man, he’s about to die the same way he did the first time, but he did try to kill her and her friends countless times. Her empathy can only go so far.

She notices the flaming Alpha about to attack Allison. A low growl reverberates in her throat as she charges at him without much thought. Scott does the same, both of them striking Peter harshly, which sends him spiraling into the trees in the other direction.

Peter shifts back into his human form, his skin completely torched. Scott and Fallon heave heavily where they stand, both of them still stuck in their werewolf form. Or in Fallon’s case, what appears to be a werewolf-like form.

Inappropriately timed, Allison carefully walks over to Scott, kissing him softly. Fallon looks away, not believing after just trying to kill them that Allison has the audacity to do this. Especially in front of her hunter father.

Stiles’ eyes glaze over Fallon’s form. He lets out a relieved sigh, knowing she’s alive and well. But he’s also slightly terrified. She’s a werewolf. At least, he thinks she is. He watches as the brunette closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath and suddenly she transforms back. Not a trace of werewolf on her. She did that a lot quicker than Scott did.

Fallon twirls in a circle, wondering if Derek ever made his way out of the house. She gets her answer when she hears leaves crunching under someone’s heavy footsteps. Her eyes snap over to Derek who is stalking towards Peter, a clear mission to accomplish.

“Derek?” She calls out softly to him. He doesn’t stop moving. He doesn’t even look back at her. She furrows her eyebrows, “What are you doing?”

He stops over his Uncle’s twitching body, straddling him. The only thing on Derek’s mind is vengeance and power. His claws protrude out where his nails should be and Scott scrambles to his feet. “Wait!” the boy begs Derek, running over to stop him. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family–what am I supposed to do?”

Everyone watches tensely. Derek doesn’t even bother turning around, he just keeps his burning gaze on Peter. No one’s sure what his next move will be. Most of them hoping he chooses the path to help Scott.

“You've... already... decided…” Peter says weakly “I can smell it on you...!”

Without even a second's hesitation, Derek raises his hand in the air, claws at the ready. “Wait! No, no! Don’t!” Scott shouts, but it’s too late. Blood flies through the air from Peter’s slashed throat. The man gurgles on his own blood before the red fades from his irises, the power transferring into Derek.

Fallon’s jaw is on the floor. She takes a step back from Derek, a small amount of fear creeping up inside of her. She didn’t think Derek would kill anyone. Even though Peter was a psychotic serial killer, she still never expected Derek to take his life. Let alone for the power of an Alpha. His eyes meet hers, his once blue irises turning into a deep shade of red. One that she isn’t used to.

“I’m the Alpha now.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Do we really think this is necessary?” Fallon asks Scott quietly as he unlocks the door to the animal clinic. “I’m really not that curious.”

“You might not be, but the rest of us are,” Scott counters. “And I think Deaton might be able to help give us some answers.”

“How could your boss possibly know what I am? Last time I checked, his specialty was dogs and cats, not were-people,” she says sarcastically.

“He knows a lot more than I do,” Scott tells her with a quickened tone. “Trust me. I think he can help.” He guides her to the back room where Deaton is already waiting. He has a small smile on his face as if he were already expecting them to come in.

"So," Deaton begins, his voice steady, “I hear you’ve had quite the night.”

Fallon offers a tired, sarcastic smirk. “You could say that.”

Scott, still trying to process everything himself, jumps in. “Deaton, you have to help her. She’s different. The way she shifted, the strength—everything’s just... different.”

Deaton’s brow furrows slightly as he looks from Scott to Fallon, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Different how?”

Fallon shifts in her spot, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “I don’t know… It was like I couldn’t control it at first, but then, when I finally did, it was… intense.” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “It felt like the moon was... in me. Not just influencing me but actually... fueling me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Deaton leans back slightly, a rare hint of intrigue flickering across his normally composed face. “The moon was fueling you?”

Scott nods enthusiastically. “It’s not like how I turn, Deaton. She—she’s different. Like, stronger.” He pauses, “And her eyes are purple!”

Deaton moves toward one of his bookshelves, pulling down a heavy, worn tome. He places it gently on the table, opening it with care as Fallon and Scott lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever knowledge the pages hold.

“I’ve read about something like this before,” Deaton says, flipping through the pages. “But only in legends. The kind of thing passed down through the ages, not meant to be believed, just stories.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he stares at the book. “Legends?”

Deaton stops on a page filled with intricate drawings and old, faded text. “Lunar Sentinels. Guardians of the moon’s power. Werewolves unlike any others, tied directly to the lunar cycle. But not just influenced by it—amplified by it. The moon’s energy flows through them, granting them heightened abilities, strength, and instincts.”

Fallon blinks, trying to absorb the gravity of what Deaton was saying. “So… that’s me? I’m a Lunar Sentinel?”

Deaton nods slowly. “It’s incredibly rare. I’ve never encountered one in my lifetime. I’ve only read about them in texts like this, and even these are more legend than fact. Most werewolves don’t have such a strong connection to the moon, but you... you’re different.”

Scott shakeshis head in disbelief. “Wait, so Fallon’s... like a werewolf, but more powerful?”

“Not necessarily more powerful, but... unique.” Deaton explains. “She’s directly tied to the moon’s energy, which can give her abilities other werewolves don’t have, particularly during certain phases of the moon. But with that power comes unpredictability.”

Fallon’s brows furrow. “Unpredictability?”

Deaton closes the book softly, his gaze meeting hers. “The stronger the connection to the moon, the more volatile it can be. You’ll need to learn control, Fallon, perhaps even more than Scott did. The moon’s phases will affect you differently, and you may find yourself stronger during full moons... and more vulnerable during new moons.”

Scott rubs the back of his neck, still processing. “So, what do we do? How do we help her?”

Deaton smiles faintly. “You’ll need to train, both of you. Fallon will have to learn how to harness this power, how to control it. The strength that comes with being a Lunar Sentinel is a gift, but without control, it could be dangerous.”

Fallon swallows, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of everything is now suddenly overwhelming. She never asked for this, never wanted it, but now it was hers. The idea of being something so rare, so powerful, scared her as much as it intrigued her.

Scott reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, Fall. We’ll figure it out together.”

She nods, feeling a surge of gratitude for Scott’s unwavering support. “Thanks, Scott. I... I appreciate it.”

Deaton, ever the calm guide, stands once more. “I’ll look into more information about Lunar Sentinels, but for now, just focus on grounding yourself. The moon may fuel you, but you are in control of your own power.”

As they turn to leave, Scott couldn’t help but glance back at Deaton one last time. “This is crazy. We’re really dealing with something... legendary here, huh?”

Deaton smiles knowingly. “In Beacon Hills, Scott, legends have a way of becoming reality.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Returning home from the animal clinic felt odd to Fallon. She doesn’t know what to do with all this newfound information about herself. She barely even knew what to tell her dad about her disappearing after the formal. Thankfully, Chris Argent gave her and Scott a pretty good alibi, despite the older man pretty much hating Scott.

She collapses onto her bed, her eyes going straight up to the ceiling, “I’m a werewolf…” she mumbles.

“That’s one way to come to terms with it.”

Fallon shoots up in her bed, eyes widening as she sees Derek just casually sitting in her desk chair. He gently closes the book he was reading, his eyes meeting hers with their usual stoic glare. Yet his words have some sort of playfulness to them.

““Jesus, Derek!” she yelps, clutching her chest. “Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

He shrugs, his usual intense stare is locked on her. “I needed to see you,” he explains shortly.

Fallon rolls her eyes, her pulse still racing from the jumpscare. “Well, you scared the crap out of me. One of these days, you're going to actually give me a heart attack.”

Derek’s expression softens ever so slightly, but his eyes hold the weight of everything that had happened. “I wanted to apologize.”

Fallon frowns, crossing her arms. Apologizing isn’t exactly Derek’s thing, so whatever this is, it has to be serious. “Apologize? For what?”

“For killing Peter in front of you,” he says quietly, standing from the chair and taking a step towards her. “And for not being able to stop you from getting bitten.”

The sincerity in his voice hits her like a punch to the gut. Fallon shakes her head, trying to brush it off. “Derek, you don’t have to apologize. Peter was a psycho. I’m not exactly losing any sleep over him being dead.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, and he glances down as if weighing his next words carefully. “Still... I should’ve protected you better.”

Fallon huffs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I don’t need protecting, Derek. And, in case you forgot, you were kind of busy getting your ass kicked at the time. I’m not exactly holding it against you.”

Derek looked back up at her, his eyes searching hers. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“Being bitten and turned into a werewolf? Oh yeah, piece of cake,” Fallon remarks sarcastically, though the smile on her face told a different story. She rubs the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension. “I mean, it’s a lot to process, sure. But it’s not like I can change what happened. So, I just have to deal with it.”

Derek’s lips twitched slightly, a ghost of a smile. “You’re handling it better than most would.”

“Well, I’ve had good company,” Fallon replies, smirking. “Plus, Deaton gave me some... interesting news today.”

“About what you are?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding, the weight of the information still settling in her mind. “Apparently, I’m not just a regular werewolf. I’m a Lunar Sentinel.”

Derek’s brow furrows, though Fallon can see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “A Lunar Sentinel?”

“Yep, a living myth,” Fallon says with a wry smile. “Deaton said they’re rare. You know, super special. No big deal.” She shrugs with a polite brag.

Derek crosses his arms, leaning against her desk. “He’s right. Lunar Sentinels are rare... almost unheard of.”

Fallon raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “So, you’re telling me I’m one of a kind?”

Derek’s lips quirk into a faint smile. “Always were.”

Fallon snorts. “Right. Because if there’s anything I needed on top of this whole werewolf drama, it’s a mystical title and the weight of centuries-old legends hanging over my head.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Derek says surely. “You always do.”

“I guess,” Fallon shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “But seriously, if I’d known turning into a werewolf would come with this much responsibility, I might’ve considered running a little faster when Peter came at me and Lydia.”

Derek’s expression shifts to something softer, almost amused. “You didn’t run.”

“Yeah, well...” Fallon waves a hand. “Maybe I should’ve.”

Derek shakes his head, stepping closer to her. “You don’t run from anything.”

Fallon glances up at him, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Neither do you.”

For a moment, they stand in comfortable silence, the tension between them gone, replaced by something else. Something lighter.

“So,” Fallon says, breaking the silence, “are you done lurking in my room, or...?”

Derek smirks. “I don’t lurk.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Fallon teases. “Next time, try knocking. It’s a pretty standard practice among normal humans.”

“I’ll consider it,” Derek replies, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Fallon can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re the one that keeps letting me in,” he shoots back, his eyes flicking over her face before softening again. "But seriously, if you ever need help... with the transition, the shifting, any of it... I'm here."

Fallon nods, her teasing demeanor melting away for a moment. “Thanks, Derek.”

Derek gives her one last lingering look before turning to leave, but Fallon calls after him. “And next time, I better hear a knock!”

Derek’s only response is a faint chuckle as he disappears through the window.

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329 @avengersheart @random-fangirl003 @mysticliars-blog1

[bill-ciphers-nightmare-blog]

"Billy, Is that you? I was told by something that you were here.. But I can't seem to see you?"

Sincerely, @scalene-geometry-cipher

..DROP THE ACT. I KNOW THIS IS JUST ONE OF YOUR SICK, PATHETIC, SENTIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGICAL ATTEMPTS TO MAKE ME CRACK. WELL GUESS WHAT, GENIUS! YOU CAN’T SPILL AN EMPTY GLASS.

DON’T TRY THIS AGAIN. YOU’LL REGRET IT.

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[hoshigray]

Hellooo, I have a requesttt. Bully!Geto & bully!gojo x reader please!!

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: didn't know how to tackle this, but I think I got it >:3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting; satosugu + you are juniors - sex in shared space; college dorm - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - oral (m! receiving) - facials - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - Eiffel Tower/spit-roasting position - slight degradation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, good girl, plaything, pretty girl, sweetheart) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside, tho) - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

“—Gaaahh!! N-Noo, shtop! No more, no mo—Oooh!”

“Aww, don’t go cryin’ on us yet; let’s see how much this pussy can cum!”

“Satoru, keep playing with their nipples; they keep gripping my fingers like crazy…”

Being bullied seems to be an everyday thing for a wimp like you—especially in the hands of Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto.

What kind of person lets two of the hottest guys in the school bully them? You’re practically nearly a full-ass grown adult; you shouldn’t be letting people push you around like it’s middle school! And yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to stand for yourself, too meek and reserved to step up the ladder of confrontation, even if it’s from people who’ve tormented you most of your life.

Gojo and Geto have been your bullies for nearly your entire academic life, starting from first grade. To say that your life was hell on Earth was just the surface, coming home in tears and wishing to disappear every single day. The emotional toil was too much to bear, so much so that you did everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up in the same high school as the two, a task that you’re proud to act on as making friends and getting through the final four years of your primary education became easier to accomplish. 

However, this fulfillment was thrown out the window when you walked on campus grounds and discovered that after two years, your bullies had transferred to the same college as you! Not only in the same place but in the same dorm section and sharing the same class—had the world gone mad?! Just when you have accepted this new chapter in your life to start anew and fresh, these two spin back and the pool of anxiety swallows you back up and pulverizes your heart. There was no way for this situation to be envisaged.

“Ohaaa!! Shtooop, t’ooo fasst!!”  

And now, they have new methods to diminish your dignity.

Against your comfort, you and the two were assigned a spreadsheet to work on and have it done by Thursday, so you three were supposed to be working in the living room of their dorm apartment. Nevertheless, you don’t think lying on the couch with your back to Gojo and Geto between your legs has anything to do with the assignment…

You were squirming, Gojo’s slender hands cupping and fondling your chest, tips of his fingers tweaking your nipples roughly so that you whine helplessly. Legs spread open for your panties and bare cunt to be exposed when you were stripped from your leggings, and Geto toys your private part with his fingers. The sensation of his middle digit inside you was hard to believe, like the howl from curling onto the upper wall of your vagina.

“Uuuwww, ohmyGoooood…!” You throw your head back to the shoulder of the white-haired one whose forefingers circle the buds of your mounds. “W-We can’t be—hic—doing this…”

“Ehhh, c’mon, baby,” hearing Gojo talk to your ear so close has to be something out of a dream or nightmare. “Who says we can’t play with our favorite person, huh?”

You gulp at the lick of your earlobe. “Because…we have work to d—Aaahh!”

“Don’t think about that assignment when I’m busy shoving my fingers in you,” Geto reminds you, the pace of his digit increasing and the scrape of his fingertip having your toes curl. “Doesn’t the pretty girl wanna play us like old times?”

A hand grabs his wrist, yet that does little to hinder the raven-haired one’s diligence within your leaking chasm. “B-But…We can’t!” Jesus, it’s tough to think adequately the more Geto pushes and pulls his finger, brushing it up against your texture. Tears welled up in your eyes, your body sore from their constant touches.

“God, still cryin’ from being teased, huh, crybaby?” Gojo chuckles while cupping your cheeks. “Still a cutie, though…”

No way, there’s absolutely no way! You had to be dreaming because there is no way you’re awake to see the day Gojo is kissing you! Biting your bottom lip and shoving his tongue inside, your brain practically explodes as you moan in his mouth, and your slit contracts the rub of Geto’s finger. Did you just cum from a kiss?!

“Oh wow, they’re spasming like crazy,” Geto chortles at the sight of your legs trembling and your genitalia fluttering around the digit. “Cumming from a kiss, huh? Heh, so easy to mess with.”

Your response was deterred to that of imperceptible wails, crying into Gojo’s pillowy lips as he sucked on your tongues to hear you sob more. This was so unfair; this situation was not in your favor once you were dragged into their apartment.

Not even in the next phase of this meet-up.

Your clothes are discarded from your body to the living room floor, mounting on the couch on all fours, Geto to your front and Gojo to your back. The three of you are too far gone to think about the damn assignment—your frame too occupied by their cocks to evade them so.

Soapy lips suck on the dick of the dark-haired other, puffy cheeks making room for the limb burrowing inside your mouth. He fucks you orally with vigor, snapping his hips to your lips as your head pounds with every jab to the back of your throat. You’re not left with a second to breathe calmly, his girth overwhelming.

“Fuuuhhck, Jesus Christ,” he curses, grinding his pelvis and moaning at the feel of your tight throat. “Such a good girl, sucking me so well; got the mouth of a great cumslut.”

“Has the pussy of one, too!”

The words burn your ears, coming from behind as the guy with snowy hair plunges his length into your vagina. His hands are situated on your waist to keep you on him, the curve of his cock scratching your sweet spots too accurately that you’re forced to scream on the other’s shaft.

Gojo throws his head back with a sigh, “Fuckin’ shiiiit, this pussy…clamping on me so hard, you wanna milk me dry?” He bends down to your ear, “Want my load so bad like a little whore?” Squeezing on him was inevitable, making him hiss. “Fuck! Don’t do that…”

“Damn this throat, man,” you peer up to Geto. Your eyes have already released the tears stricken down your face, the lower part of your face all hot from the frequent hits. He chortles, “You look so good all messy like that, sweetheart…Holy shit, you looked so fucked out.” 

Of course you were; they’ve been toying with your body for ten minutes with no rest! Your frame was aching so bad, sobbing because of the cock busying your throat and the dick grazing your G-spot. It was too much to catch up with, especially when Gojo sneaks a hand to your clit to rub and swipe. Your eyes roll to the ceiling, and a scream is muffled, your figure submitting to the pinches on your sensitive pearl.

“Wanna cum?” Silver brows trench together at the clamp of your walls. “Do it, cum on my dick, you nasty crybaby.” 

More tweaks to your clitoris coincide with the erratic pistons of Gojo’s thighs, and you have no choice but to climax once more. Your cunt tightens around his cock with every hit of your orgasm, and he makes sure to get his raw cock out of you to ejaculate his milky fluid onto your back, painting your skin with his load.

The same goes for Geto as well, who grabs your head and roughly pulls himself off to paint your face with his essence. You whimper with every quiver and addition of his sperm, spurting to your forehead and decorating your cheeks to slide down your chin. You never felt so dirty in your life, your tongue accidentally tasting it from licking your lips. “Good girl,” he compliments with a teasing pinch to your cheek.

Gojo rubs his length on the cusp of your butt. “Man, cutie, you keep driving me crazy.” His fingers aimlessly play with your clit. “Now I really can’t leave you alone…”

Dread weighs your bones at his words, and you can only question how you can survive these upcoming semesters with these harassers. And now that they’re hooked on you, this fresh new start has become much more suffocating…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[spectorgram]

FAN BEHAVIOR

characters: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake summary: batboys with a celebrity! reader content/warnings: fem! reader, fluff

DICK GRAYSON

You’re an actress who has had a meteoric rise, moving from doing small, one-off parts in TV shows to becoming a breakout star on a particularly popular series to being cast in major movie productions

Your stardom is still a little surreal to you and when you’re invited to a wayne enterprise charity gala, you contemplate not going — what business do you have being somewhere with people far more famous than you? But when you tell your agent this, she gives you a look that says you’re insane for even considering declining

You’ll forever be grateful that she urged you to do so because that’s where you meet Dick

He’s standing with Bruce Wayne, chatting with some frequent donors, dressed in a perfectly-tailored navy blue suit when he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he lights up. He approaches you first with that megawatt smile and introduces himself with an extended hand and says, “I’m a huge fan! I’ve been watching your stuff since you were in Legends of the Kingdom!” And the rest is history

Dick goes to every red carpet event you invite him to and he makes it a point to attend every private premiere screening and public opening night

He definitely shushes anyone who talks during your movies or TV shows and does not care if people think he’s obnoxious.

You’re definitely the ‘it couple’ and your faces are plastered constantly on magazine covers and two-page spreads

There are people who try to sow discord in your relationship and their go-to is either pointing out how different you are to Dick’s former girlfriends; that you’re not his type, that this isn’t going to last, etc., or that you’re not talented enough for the fame you have or to be dating Dick Grayson

It definitely gets to you and does nothing to whatever lingering imposter syndrome you harbor but Dick is such a grounding force, reminding you that it’s all just noise and that he loves you completely and unconditionally

At home, he likes to rewind your scenes in shows and movies, and it flatters you as much as it flusters you

He also likes to read through scripts with you when he can and his voices for the various other characters bring you to tears from laughter 

So many intentional and unintentional thirst trap couples pics. Like, a selfie you post one morning — Dick is shirtless and you’re in one of his old t-shirts and its sliding down your shoulder and showing your collarbone and you’re both laying on your stomachs in your shared bed, hair sleep (and sex) tousled with the morning sun making both of you look like you’re golden and glowing 

JASON TODD

You meet Jason as Red Hood first when you’re running from the paparazzi but you don’t know it’s him

They chase you down a couple of blocks before someone tugs you into an alleyway and you’re about to scream for help when you see who it is. Red Hood shields you as the paparazzi pass and when you ask him why he helped you, he simply says, “I hate the paps and you looked like you needed a hand.”

Once he’s sure the coast is clear, he walks you back to your hotel using the back alleys of Gotham. You make several attempts to strike a conversation up with him in the first few minutes of your walk but what seems to catch his interest is when you start rambling on about just finishing Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. 

You’re disappointed when you arrive at your hotel and you’re rush inside to find a pad to scribble your number on but he’s gone when you return, disappearing into the night

It’s by chance that you meet him again (unbeknownst to you), this time in his civilian identity as Jason Todd. You’re in disguise at a bookstore in Gotham when you bump into him and spill his iced coffee all over both of you, apologizing profusely and offering to buy him another drink, which he accepts. (His voice is oddly familiar to you but you can’t put your finger on why) 

You two keep in touch and start dating privately. The long-distance is difficult at times given your very different and busy schedules and Jason is pretty cagey about what he does but you both make time for each other as much as possible

He tells you that he listens to your music during his workouts and in the background while he’s doing stuff around his apartment. He hums along too.

He recommends your songs to anyone who listens, which raises suspicions in the Batfam, and it obviously doesn’t take long for them to figure out that he’s dating you but he makes them promise to keep it to themselves. 

Whenever you have a concert in Gotham, which you make a point to do frequently, Jason is in the VIP box, bobbing his head and mouthing along to your songs. When it ends, he’s right there backstage with flowers and a thermos of tea for your throat

Your relationship goes public when fans capture of video of you two leaving one of your concerts together, Jason’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders

You eventually move to Gotham to be closer to him and the two of you spend every free moment either of you have together, making up for lost time. 

You still try to keep your relationship as private as possible but fans eat up any crumbs they get, including the occasional selfie of you both 

He is your biggest inspiration for songs and also your biggest help. You love bouncing ideas off of him and he likes sitting with you when you pick at your guitar strings and mumble a half-formed melody

(You eventually do find out that he’s Red Hood when he tumbles through the window of your bedroom, bleeding profusely, and you have to take his helmet off to assess the damage)

TIM DRAKE

You’ve known Tim since you were kids given that your parents ran in the same social circles

You started out as a child model in department store clothing catalogs. Tim did some shoots with you too but while his parents eventually stopped auditioning him for such jobs, you continued until the present day, and you’re now a well-known supermodel 

You two have been friends forever and the internet laps up your interactions together. There are compilations of videos and photos of the two of you at banquets and red carpet events and memes with text like “when will someone look at me like that?”

Before you two even started dating, there were articles about a supposed romance and sexual tension between you two. In interviews, you would vehemently deny anything asked about it and reiterate that you two are just good friends

At some point, however, you start seeing your childhood friend in a different light. He’s kind, brilliant, funny, attentive, and very handsome. It’s not that you didn’t know that before but it’s different now. You find yourself shying away his casual touches and suddenly conscious of your actions around him — did you laugh too loud? Is your hair in your face? Does he know how you feel? Can he tell?

You don’t want to ruin your friendship, as cliche as it sounds, so you did your best to keep your feelings under wraps, which resulted in you distancing yourself. When Tim would text to congratulate you on your latest Vogue cover or runway show, you would simply shoot a simple ‘thanks!’ text back instead of the usual ‘THANK U’ followed by five heart emojis. 

He confronts you about it one day and you’ve never really been a good liar in front of him so you tell him, bracing for a gentle rejection but instead receiving a kiss. 

You made a hard launch post with him on Instagram and received hundreds of DMs of people saying they were vindicated in believing that “friends don’t look at each other like that”

Tim is in the front row at every single runway show you have, dressed impeccably in an expensive suit. He takes pictures of you and visits you backstage with your favorite sweet treat.

After fashion shows and other events, you return to his apartment to let your hair down and put your feet up. You do your skincare routines together, sheet face mask and all, and snuggle on the couch for some TV or just to hang out and talk endlessly

You’re very active on social media with him and you two have a lot of couples posts together. When you both have time, you do Instagram lives where people watch you two make dinner together or answer some questions from viewers. A fan favorite is when you choose outfits for each other.

During a runway, you blow a kiss at Tim in the audience and the camera zooms in on his face, where he just watches you with a lovestruck expression and bright red ears — it’s in almost every video compilation that’s titled something like ‘15 minutes of Tim Drake being a simp’

[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Animal Town (2) | Only Human

Part 1, Part 3

You awake from your midday nap to the sounds of shouts from a man and a woman. Sounding like the latter is in distress you immediately run for your bat opening up the door facing the road. To find a billy goat man pulling a cow woman towards your doorstep; similar to their animal counterparts the man is short and wide sporting a dirtied tank top sleek with sweat. The female cow being pulled by tiny horns on her head is bent awkwardly wearing a revealing top with underwear and a jockstrap. Before you need to say anything the billy goat man is gruffing in your direction.

“Oh, so this is where the rumored human is. Well, aren’t you pretty?”

You don’t bother answering that. “What are you doing to here and what are you doing to her?”

Your question has him looking at the crying girl and spitefully pulling her closer as her knees buckle to the ground. All the while she’s crying and pleading incoherently. None of that seems to bother the goat man though as he spits in disgust.

“I’m showing this heifer ain’t nobody gonna want her! Dry as the Sahara this cow is she ain’t give make me any money for the food she eats.”

For emphasis he throws her to the ground, waiting for her to crawl back to him. When she opens her mouth to continue pleading he kicks the sandy dirt in her face. It makes you sick. 

“I’ll take her.”

They both look up at you in surprise. The billy goat man belts out in laughter as a disgusting smirk spreads on his face. 

“Oh, I see! Looking for another kind of milk, huh? Good luck with that!” He kicks at her again as he turns back to his truck. “Enjoy it Heifer you might actually be of worth for once.”

As he speeds off in his rickety, rusted truck she cries out making a desperate attempt to follow. Tripping over the dirt, barely a couple steps in; scraping her knees in her unconventional wardrobe. She crumples into herself crying with her hoarse voice, you let her go on for awhile before lifting her up and into the house.

You don’t know the ethics or the inner workings of farming when it comes to hybrids. Only barely catching the surface of the unregulated and often cruel practices that ensue because it’s a market for hybrids to be typically successful. With this in mind your careful to be gentle to not take it personally when she refuses to speak to you. You can’t imagine what she’s gone through.

“Here’s a towel and some soap and a washcloth. I ran a bath for you.”

“.....”

“I’ll come check on you in a bit. Take your time.”

She only wordlessly follows your commands with a sullen look on her face. Even when Titan comes around poking and prodding at the new face, she hardly reacts. 

“Hey, you! What’s your problem, huh? Why aren’t you smiling, huh? Why are you wearing (Y/n)’s clothes? It’s not fair!”

“Hey Titan give her space she’s having a rough day!”

“Well when I’m sad I just go to you. Why can’t she do that?”

“Sometimes I just don’t make everybody happy, Titan. And that’s okay.”

“That’s stupid.”

“.....Waaaaaaaaa”

“Titan!”

“Sorry!”

After canceling your dinners with the neighbors for the week much to their displeasure you settle her into a bedroom close to yours. Just in case. It isn’t until the next morning that you wake to tears on your face. Sitting above you her bust taking up most of your vision is the cow woman silently crying as she pulls at her teats only for nothing to come out. 

“I’m useless. I can’t even do this for you!”

You spend the day comforting the cow woman who’s drenching herself in endless tears. With lots of assurance that you ask for nothing from her and talk to her about her ‘job’ she finally opens up.

“...It’s Eudora.”

“Eudora…that’s a beautiful name.”

“It was what they called my mother before…he…took over. She never officially bequeathed it to me…because she never got to retire.” 

Lots of hugs and praise are what fills your days with Eudora. Breaking the unhealthy practices regarding eating and what she did throughout the day. Instead of letting her lay in bed and stew in her dark thoughts, you invite her to your picnics and follow after Titan as he explores the groves of your property. Without the fear of not producing milk or verbal abuse she finally starts to smile and actually taking your advice. 

“You are a queen Eudora, just like the others at that farm.”

“Hahaha me? A queen?”

“Yes!”

“Is this some city thing you guys call people?”

“Kind of but the point is, is that you barely realize how gorgeous and desirable you are just because. It’s a way to remind you of that.”

“....Wow…that’s really sweet, (Y/n)....”

“Just being honest–”

“That’s not fair if she’s your queen I wanna be your king!”

“Titan, she’s not mine. She’s nobody’s but her own.”

“💜”

“Gross. Can I still be your king (Y/n)!?”

She really starts to settle in as your roommate, helping you with your growing list of chores. Learning alongside to cook with you as you entertain the neighbors that continue to visit so eagerly. Despite letting herself get pushed to the side when they come around she’s really come into herself. Taking the clothes you’ve given her and styling it into something that works for her. Spending time and your money into her appearance. And if that wasn’t great enough she woke up to a curious surprise. 

“AAAAAhhhh!”

“W-what’s wrong!?”

“Milk spots!”

“What?”

“I’ve got milk spots! I’m leaking!”

Turns out all her body needed was a little TLC and it felt the need to lactate better than she’s ever had before. Days in the past spent blissfully walking through your fields are spent milking herself into whatever glasses you have. As it continues it gets worse better enough so that she eventually has to call on you to help. It’s a tad awkward for her to fling the maternity breast pump you bought for her as she demands you do it for her. 

“E-eudora c’mon I’ve never done anything like this I’m not going to—”

“NO!! I NEED YOU TO DO THIS! Otherwise it’s going to take all day!”

So there goes an hour in the morning to help her release the gallons of milk her happy body produces. Constantly hearing the wanton moans of the cow woman you’re doing such a big favor. When you're finished, you have Tank frantically sniffing you both for some odd reason as he comments about the suspicious noises he was hearing.....from miles away. Eudora doesn’t bother clearing up the misunderstanding you just aren’t picking up on.

“So I believe you too were awfully loud this morning”

“Oh, you heard us, did you? Lucky dog, I’m sure you wish you were in my position.”

“Uhm I don’t know why Tank would want to do what you were doing.”

Tank is whining. “It doesn’t smell like what I think it was.”

“Ha just because you can’t smell it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Well if you’re smelling milk then that’s accurate. Eudora made way more than we can cook with so we’re going to take it to the market today.” 

“oh…milk….The kind that comes from-?”

“Her? Yeah. What kind of milk could I be talking about?”

“Come on, (Y/n)! We’re going to lose daylight talking to him.”

“I–I–wanna come too!”

With all the publicity from the suddenly amazing milk from the odd human that’s recently moved in floats around. Of course, the sweaty gross billy goat is circling back to your place. Spitting and pointing when you finally come out to the enraged short man. The cow woman and the dog boys on your property at the time are all on guard.

“I want ‘em back! You cheated me you hairless skank!!!”

“You can’t have her if she doesn’t want to go!”

“Why you–”

“Grrrr!”

“Wait (Y/n)...I’ll handle this.”

She agrees to go with him. Kissing you on the cheek as she promises she’ll return by tonight. It feels like you’ve failed as she walks into the passenger seat with her now confident strut and proud smile in an outfit she feels comfortable in. It feels like you’ve lost that is until that rickety truck pulls up again in the dead of night. Tiffany staying up with you after attempting to put you to sleep and joining you as you run to see if your friend truly had returned. 

“I’m back~!” 

“Eudora!” 

The hug is your victory and it’s also a little off center. 

“Uh, heels?”

“A gift from the girls back home. Turns out the ownership of the farm was recently called into question and I’ve recently been included in a new business venture. An opening was recently made.” 

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in back there?”

Eudora hates how eager Mama Tiffany sounds with her speeding tail.

Eudora delights in the wagging slowing down with her next words

“No, I just figure I’ll be contributing a bit more to the home. Is that alright (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I’m so proud of you Eudora!”

Mama Tiff is livid along with her sons as she watches the cow-woman move in with designer bags and start paying to reinforce the fence on your property starting with the flap Titan loves sneaking in through. From then on she too comes with you when you head into town, not afraid to pull down her designer pink glasses to verbally put down anyone still brave enough to talk down to you. But by now it isn’t all hateful talks, she’s still chasing off anyone with mildly too positive intentions.

“Look feline if you don’t back off now I might be convinced not to starve your family.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Ah, but I can. Would you like to see?”

She’s sure she doesn’t need the extra help from your puppy neighbors but she’ll take it. If only to keep her nails clean, she’ll stick to her own strengths. Happily pulling you behind your market stalls because she desperately needs to be milked. She only trusts you–her human to do such a thing. No one else in this town is worthy of squeezing the liquid magic she can create than you– her dear one and only human.

“Come (Y/n) I need you. You are my special human—the only human I trust to help me fuel my empire. You won’t refuse me, right?”

Part 3: Here

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares @xrenka @candlesworlds-blog @00hellohello00 @lem-hhn @kawaii-cakes

[viridescentelf]

Yandere Elf x Reader - Escape

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru (thank you so much for making him, I owe you my soul)

Part 2

Word Count: 1000

The silky hair bellowed behind the tall, grinning elf, as he skipped back home. Having found wild strawberries and thyme in the forest, Silas was excited to bake a beautiful cake for his little treasure.

Oh, how they love my cakes with my special fondant! I can’t wait to see them!

The elf practically floated back to your shared home, wanting to see your cute little face when he burst through the door. Briskly strutting to the oak tree door, he grasped the handle, infusing it with magic, and opened it quickly.

“My sweet! I’m back! Look what I found in the woods!”, he called gingerly.

No answer. But this was normal.

“Daaaarling!”, he cooed with his hand next to his mouth, placing the basket on the dining table, after closing (and locking) the door behind him. Silas looked around, his tresses floating as if in water behind him. The home looked just like when he left it, with a few furniture items moved slightly. That was no cause for concern, either. His darling usually stacked items in his absence. Why, he did not truly know.  

Is this the game you like to play? Conceal and Find, was it?

Silas looked in closets, under the bed, under pillows, under rugs, in big kitchen pots, in every nook and cranny he usually found his sweetheart tucked away when he played your game. Still with a slight smile etched across his face, that flickered briefly, the elf placed his hands on his hips and looked around the living room once again.

“Oh, darling. You’ve got me. Come out now, it’s almost time for dinner!”

Silence, besides the brief rustling of his attire while he traced around the room, checking a few spots he had already looked at. A cold ripple slithered up his spine. He had usually found you by now with his keener senses.

Silas felt the kiss of a breeze on the back of his nape, turning his head to see the high window slightly ajar. Below it was a dining room chair. On the ground, three big boxes of his collection of human toys lay upside down or strangely tilted, a bit dented – like they had fallen down from somewhere.

Squinting his eyes slightly, he identified soft nail markings on the windowsill and foot scrapings on the wall. Even some of that gorgeous hair his beloved had, littered the frame of the narrow window.

His whole being thundered with horror. The, albeit slow, realization that … you had gotten out! Through the high window – a feat the elf had thought was impossible for such a short being.

Silas crashed through the door, whipping his hair back and forth in a frenzy.

“Darling!?!” he squealed. “It’s not safe out here! Come back to Mama!” His eyes darted to the ground, where he quickly discovered some deep footprints, even knee markings, in the wet soil. Thank the trees it had rained the night before. It seemed his precious had fallen from the window down into the soil. Oh no! Were you hurt????

The tears stung his eyes and marked his ethereal, yet panic-stricken visage, as he bolted after the trail you had unwillingly left behind. Pummeling through the trees and thickets, a few branches scraped his wide chest and cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice or care. Loud whimpers escaped him, but these were dedicated to the potential loss of his love.

Silas bolted through the forest, looking erratically in every little corner his wet elven eyes could pear into, continuously squeaking the words “Darling” and “My love” into the distance. As he dashed into a small clearing, he saw the footprints once again, leading to a hollow tree trunk.

Sobbing loudly, he tilted his head, as he bent down, letting his golden locks collect on the grass. A pair of angry eyes met his.

“DARLING!”, he yelped, seeing your small frame crumbled against the wood holding a severely bruised knee. His face was completely soaked, with new tears cascading down relentlessly, in sweet relief that he had found you.

You stared at him weakly, but said nothing. Internally, you were screaming. Why had the window been so goddamn high? And why had it been so freaking tiny? If not for the stinging pain in your legs, you probably would’ve gotten away.

Silas forcefully pulled you out of the husk and squeezed you into his body, your face buried in his scratched up, enormous chest.

“YOU’RE HURT! MY POOR LITTLE ANGEL!”, the tears were dripping onto your head, drenching your scalp. The elf pulled you up to him, hands under your armpits and forced you to stare into his desperately weepy face. He sniffled disgustingly, looking down at the bloody knee: “Here, let me-“

As he tried to bring your wounded leg up to his lips, you recoiled hastily. Silas lost hold of your leg, but still maintained his grip on your back.

“Oh, my love. You must be in so much pain! You must’ve been scared to death out here!”, he croaked and slung his massive arms around them – despite the excessive wriggling. He put his thumb on your chin and yanked you into a deep caress. Feeling your soft lips made his tears dry slightly, as he sighed heavily into your face. No matter how much you tried to wince away, Silas hold was so robust, that no amount of struggle helped.

That damn saliva of his. You felt your body weaken even further, with a tingly sensation trailing through your lower half.

Finally releasing your lips, his eyes glittered as he gently stroked your face, ignoring the death glare.

“Come, let’s go home. I can treat your wounds better there.”

Carrying you in his arms and plastering kisses all over your face, Silas walked briskly towards your home.

“I found strawberries!” His mood was suddenly as chipper as a small child’s in the rain as he pranced through the forest. “I’ll bake you a cake after our bath!”

You let your head hang in defiance, but there was no point of fighting.

“Fine,” you murmured through gritted teeth.

What was it with this stupid elf?

[rainrot4me]

Eyeless Jack General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jack as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw! Mentions of gore

Words: 2.3k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- The definition of nonchalant, doesn’t convey his emotions very well at all so he lets his actions do the talking.

- Even though he may put on a front of being calculated and detailed, everything he does is purely instinctual or off the top of his head. He’s never made great plans or thought further on a problem than he had to, relying solely on time or for everything to work itself out. Ben calls it ‘thuggin it out’. He may seem all cool, calm, and collected- but really, he just doesn’t care.

- Drives a brown 1989 Ford F-250. Found it discarded on some old hunting grounds and spent the next 3 years learning about truck parts just to fix it up. It’s nothing pretty and the A/C doesn’t work half the time, but that doesn't stop the proxies from either stealing it for missions or Jeff cruising it to gas stations.

- Loves his alone time. If ‘Do Not Disturb’ was a living being.

- Incredible sense of smell, a blessing and a curse.

- Even though he doesn’t really feel emotionally tied to anyone or reliant on anyone's attention, he would never pass up a good conversation with Jeff or Toby. Finds their problems interesting (and funny).

- Even though he doesn’t have any eyes, he can still see. How? Who even knows? The demon would describe it as more of a viewing like he can detail everything that’s happening, but he can’t physically see it. Cryptic stuff even he’s too dumb to figure out.

- Despite everything, probably the most upkeep and clean member of the mansion. While eating organs and harvesting them can be messy, he doesn’t like the grime and prefers to clean off as soon as he can. The same goes for his clothes and room/office. Surprisingly tidy.

- Not as smart as he likes to present himself. Sure, he’s a medical student with more experience than anyone in a 50-mile radius, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing all of the time. Whenever the proxies roll in with serious injuries, the demon shoots them full of antibiotics, cauterizes the wound, and prays it doesn’t get worse from there. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean he knows it’ll work 100% of the time.

- A silent panicker. Will absolutely tear his brain to shreds worrying or fighting with himself, but keep a stone look on his face the entire time. Gauging his emotions is like conversing with a brick wall.

- Dry humor. Absolutely will answer your long, emotional paragraph with a thumbs-up emoji.

- In some sick way, slightly prefers the life he’s living now. It may be grotesque and depressing, but his knowledge of the medical field and human bodies is infinitely more broad than it would’ve been. He quite enjoys the freedom he has now.

- Never happier than when winter is fizzling out and the first signs of spring show up. The warmth, the colors, the vibrancy coming back. He can’t get enough of it. Absolutely will get lost just studying the snow melting from the new flower beds.

- Locked in the basement of the mansion at all times. Only comes out to eat or on the rare occasion he’s assigned a mission. The only place he truly feels comfortable.

- Will get oddly emotional when light reflects on the lake just right or the fog settles on the ridge just perfectly. You’d never guess, but he’s a big poetic bum.

- Purrs. Like a cat. Ears flick around like one too.

- With music, he’s a big lyric listener. The song could sound absolutely terrible, but as long as he resonates with the words, will enjoy it anyway.

- Unorganized organization freak. Everything has a place, even if you don’t know where that place is.

- Seriously underestimates just how overtowering he is. He’s nowhere near Slender’s height, but the demon easily doubles in the average human’s vertical. When he was human he was taller, but never like this. He’s still getting used to it.

- Lanky but quick. Limbs and features are longer, but the muscle index makes up for it. He’s seriously fit, but everything is evenly distributed. Serious muscle definition in his arms and back, though. What he lacks in strength, he makes up in speed and agility.

- Enjoys Radiohead, Cigarettes After Sex, Paramore, and Three Days Grace. Will also never admit it, but really enjoy the Twilight soundtracks.

Dating Him/SFW:

“My pet…” “Little thing…” “Pretty thing…”

- Gift-giving love language. Loves to make you things unexpectedly and watch the surprise on your face. Steals jewelry or clothing from his victims to gift to you.

- It takes a lot for the demon to even consider you a friend let alone a potential love interest. But you best believe once he’s decided he wants you, that’s it. You take precedent, anything and everything else in his life takes a step back and you become the focal point. Heaven help if you ever change your mind about him.

- “My pretty thing… my lovely little pet… all mine…”

- Physically can not get enough of your smell. Whether it be sweet or sour, whatever emotion you dwell in, this demon will bury his nose into the crook of your neck and waste away there. It’s intoxicating to him, like an emotional tie he’s bound to.

- Like to study you. Your movements, your voice, the way you react to certain stimuli. Everything about you and your personality just intrigues him to no end.

- Possessive in the, ‘If they look at you, I’ll kill them’ way, but also is sure enough in himself and you to know he doesn’t need to go that far. Would rather lock you away for only him to see, but respects you too much.

- Has a deep-rooted fear of hurting you, so any fight or disagreement turns him distant. He’ll come back eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable enough to get all touchy-feely again just yet.

- A lot like Edward from Twilight, he wants to taste you the most. It’s seriously a bad habit to nip at your skin or get lost in your scent because he knows how easy it would be just to take a chunk out of you. Has to be very aware and cautious of himself.

- Even though it took a long time for him to be comfortable enough to take his mask off around you, he still gets wildly conscious about it whenever you’re around. Loves nothing more than when you’re caressing his face or kissing his skin because he knows it's genuine.

- For a cannibal, he’s an insanely good cook. Will only cook for you, however. He says it's out of love, but really he knows deep down he wants to control what you eat so you have good organ health. You best believe he’ll have you hitting those core diet needs.

- Doesn’t sleep often, but when he does it's for long periods. The problem is, he likes to completely swallow you with his body and wrap around you, keeping you there until he eventually wakes up. Really enjoys the body heat you provide. Lowkey a small spoon.

- Slouches to your height.

- His favorite time is after a long day, curling up in a big chair with a book and you in his lap. You cocoon in his arms as he leans back, a blanket draped over the two of you. He’s naturally cold-blooded so he would stay there forever if he could.

- “You smell so good, pet… So good…”

- Talks in short, mumbled sentences. The mansion residents started using you as a translator because he would only say more than 3 words at a time around you.

- Absolutely never cared about how he looked before you. You taught him decent clothing styles and now he rocks the ‘dark academia/soft boy’ aesthetic like a champ.

- Made you your own special corner in his lab just because he couldn’t deal with having to be away while working.

- An intense kisser. It’s never soft pecks but full-on mouth-consuming makeouts. He’s a hungry guy who can only be satisfied if he feels like he’s swallowed enough of your tongue and lips with his own. Your lips and chin are absolutely soaked with slobber afterward.

- Firm believer in carrying you. No matter where or how far, he likes to bridal-style haul you around or have you latch onto his back.

- “I could eat you up. Just kidding… yeah…”

- Goes ridiculously insane when he can see the chubbiness on your thighs or stomach. You sitting down or lying out, you best believe he is fighting every demon internally not to take a massive bite on your skin.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Again, skin. No better than a man during the dark times when you flash just a little too much leg or abdomen. He’s on you in seconds and clawing your clothes off to see more.

- You will never leave an encounter without cum dripping out of you. Refuses to get off anywhere else but deep inside of one of your holes. Call it a breeding kink but his animalistic tendencies just won’t let him pull out. Grunting and panting against your nape as he slams inside as far as he can to keep you from squirming away

- “You can take it, I know you can… Need you full of me… All of me…”

- A greedy kisser. Grabbing your jaw and fucking his tongues into the warm wetness of your mouth, teasing to just push them further past the tightness of your throat. Even when you squirm and gag, he just pushes them deeper, testing your resolve.

- You reach your breaking point longggg before he does. A couple of orgasms deep and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet, just milking your body for all it’s worth. It may be because he has a high sex drive, but it’s mainly because he gets off best when you’re pliable and numb to his touch. It’s a domination thing.

- A pussy worshiper. Much like his adoration for any organ, he really appreciates all of his knowledge of the female anatomy and how good he is at eating you out. If he can, or if you can take it, he’ll press all three of his tongues deep inside and spread your plush walls to his content. Likes to swap between focusing on your cunt and your clit, but mainly both at once.

- Bite marks galore. Has to be careful with how much blood he draws, but you’ll never get by without at least one good bite mark on your shoulder. Likes to possessively mark you all over just for others to see. Same feeling with claw marks.

- There’s some cognitive switch in his brain that flips when he gets to a certain point of desperation, like after not seeing you for a long period or after a particularly difficult day. It’s like a starved creature hungry and desperate for anything. He’ll ravage your body and mind, fucking you both to pure exhaustion or until he physically can’t cum anymore.

- On that note, ruts. They’re seasonal, usually coming around the first two weeks of spring and fall. He can’t control when they show up, but once started, they usually last 3 to 4 days, each day getting less intense. Since it’s such an animalistic ordeal, he loses all restraint or moral compass on how to treat you. Bites, blood, wounds, and injury are all possible. They’re not intentional, but he physically cannot control his mental or physical, blinded completely by lust. Thank god his sperm isn’t compatible with human anatomy, because that’s the only place he’ll cum.

- “I’m sorry- sorry, pet- Just one more time- just one more- Fuck- I promise-”

- Both ankles wrapped in one claw. Two claws overlapping around your waist. Yeah…

- Starts slow, so achingly slow you want to rut your hips and get him deeper. He likes the feeling of entering you, of spreading your plush cunt around his cock and finding its home deep inside. He’ll get faster eventually, but for now, he just wants to drink up the sights and smells of your desperation. That first gasp gets him every time.

- Mating press or nothing else. If you want to try something new, he’ll happily oblige, but the only way he’s truly happy is if your legs are pushed back to your shoulders and his hips are slamming down into yours. He’ll take the occasional doggy style, but only if his teeth are latched on to the back of your neck and holding you docile.

- Could watch your face come undone all day. Loves to see your eyes roll when you come, or the sweat and tears dripping off your cheeks. The dark flush of your skin gets him so hungry he has to physically restrain himself.

- “You’re so gorgeous- so fuckin’ pretty- Ah- Look at me. C’mon, don’t get shy now…”

- One time, after a particularly messy organ harvest, he couldn’t wait to get to you. He was so livid, body practically shaking with excitement when he snuck into your room that he didn’t even have time to clean himself off. Blood (not yours) stained your sheets and skin, messy claws dragging across your stomach and chest to coat you in dark red, his tongues quick to shoot out and lap at the stuff. You, covered in blood and his mess, sent him spinning. That was the fastest he’s ever came.

- Growling, panting, snarling, huffing, chittering, teeth gnashing, LOUD ASF

- Has a size thing. Comparing your hand to his makes him so horny and eager to just pick you up and fuck you. Admires how small and easy you are to just throw around like a doll.

- Absolutely has had sick fantasies of fucking your organs like a fleshlight. He’d never tell you, but the thought of cutting a slit in your abdomen to push his cock into the tangle of intestines and muscles makes him drool. He can almost imagine how warm it would be.

- Gets a high when you squirt. Feels accomplished to be covered in your juices and having you completely ruined for anyone but him.

- “You can take it for me, yeah? Go ahead and make a mess… It’s alright…”

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