#'the dark' not technically a fear; doesn't count

[daylightflaneuserie]

i never used to get boggarts in harry potter because as a child my deepest fear was 'the inevitable death of the universe' and i was like "okay boggart, how are you going to visualise that? turn into an image of the universe being destroyed? that would just look pretty cool. seeing a cool rendition of it wouldn't activate the fear" but now i am an adult (YIKES) and i wish my fears were that simple. i wish i could live in a world where my biggest problem was the fate of the universe itself. but no, going through my fears, my biggest fear is probably a certain friend of mine being mad at me but then thinking that i feared that too much and wouldn't show me it, hence her retreating from me and hiding the fact that she was mad at me, stopping us from working through it. And can you imagine how embarrassed i would be for her to see the boggart turn into a reclusive version of herself who won't talk to me!?

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

The original meaning of the term "Final Girl," from 1987's "Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film" by Carol J. Clover, was "a woman who is a sole survivor of a group who are chased by the villain, and who gets the final confrontation with said villain [whether she wins or not is not considered] because of some implied moral superiority." As an example, Jamie Lee Curtis's character of Laurie Strode in 1978's Halloween is the sole survivor of the teenagers that Michael Myers hunts, and gets the climactic scene with him, though she's not the one who defeats him. Her character is the only one of her friend group who does not (onscreen at least) partake in drugs, alcohol or sexual activity.

The term "final girl" has expanded over the years, often losing the moral superiority clause (see: Sidney Prescott in Scream, Maxine in X) or having other survivor(s) so long as the girl gets the final confrontation (the sisters in the recent Scream movies, Dana Polk in Cabin in the Woods). The most common deviation is losing the moral superiority clause, with the characters either being just as moral as their group or even being morally in the wrong but still surviving as a subversion or deconstruction of the trope. A common addition is a prior connection to the villain, though this is not necessary.

With all that being said,

As always, Girl is a gender-neutral term when it comes to having fun. I decided not to count Knuckles because we don't know his full backstory in-game and the word-of-god answer is that his species died of disease, and also because he'd be the funny answer everyone would pick immediately so that doesn't count guys.

Important Notes to Consider:

Tikal:

Last Survivor: Somewhat. Other echidnas seem to have survived Chaos's attack, but Tikal was the last character alive shown onscreen, and the only other named characters in her time period did not survive.

Final Confrontation: Applies. She is the one to seal Chaos into the Master Emerald.

Moral Superiority: Applies. She's the only one in her tribe willing to stand up to her warmongering dad.

Shadow:

Last Survivor: Applies. While some people seem to have escaped the ARK massacre (like the Commander), all other named characters are either killed or captured and killed afterwards.

Final Confrontation: Debatable. There isn't actually a singular monster attacking the ARK, instead it's the entire military. Shadow however does get a confrontation with the Biolizard and later with Black Doom. Do they count for this though? You decide.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Shadow isn't inherently morally above or below the other people on the ARK who died.

Cosmo:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. She is the last survivor specifically of her species. Everyone else in the Sonic Crew survives to the final confrontation, but her species is toast.

Final Confrontation: Applies. Cosmo is the last to interact with Dark Oak in the initial genocide, and the one to eventually defeat him (along with Tails, but really it was Cosmo's sacrifice that actually killed him).

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. The rest of her species are portrayed as innocent and undeserving of their fate, and her survival was purely due to her fear making her accept a deal with Dark Oak and the implication that he's her father.

Silver:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. He and Blaze are the only seen survivors of Iblis's assault. Blaze absorbs Iblis and dips, but Silver does have a fight with Solaris in the final ending.

Final Confrontation: Somewhat. Blaze and Silver both boss fight Iblis, and Blaze gets the final confrontation and defeat. However, Silver partakes in the defeat of Solaris, who technically is Iblis.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Silver isn't given moral superiority towards anyone who dies.

Sonic Forces Avatar:

Last Survivor: Somewhat. Avatar is the last survivor of their village due to them fleeing from Infinite. They join up with a group following this and assist Sonic in defeating Infinite.

Final Confrontation: Somewhat. Sonic is also there.

Moral Superiority: Debatable. Like Cosmo, the other civilians are portrayed as innocent and Avatar only escapes due to their perceived cowardice. They are shown to be Extra Special Besties with Sonic which helps them defeat Infinite through the power of Love, so that may count?

Whisper:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. Whisper is the last Diamond Cutter after Mimic kills her entire squad and betrays them. She goes solo until eventually confronting Mimic and then helping found a reformed Diamond Cutters.

Final Confrontation: Debatable. Mimic is still an active threat in the comics, but Whisper did get a climactic confrontation with him in Tangle & Whisper.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Whisper only survived because Claire requested she stay behind due to her intuition.

Sonic in '06 specifically:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. Sonic is the only character who remembers that the '06 timeline occurred, making him the technical only survivor of its events. Ignore the fact he died at one point, he got better.

Final Confrontation: Mostly Applies. Sonic leads the attack against Solaris in the Final Boss fight, but Elise is the one to blow out the candle and reset the timeline.

Moral Superiority: Debatable. All the other characters are "heroes" but Sonic is the Biggest Best Hero Of Them All That The Chaos Emeralds Love Soooo Much, and he also is the one to selflessly insist on the timeline reset so that the whole Solaris Destruction Thing never happens.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I’m falling out of obsession love with konig..will you do me the favor and respark my love for him i need an obsessed in love man to match 😓

Word count: 1.9 k

Summary: He comes to see you after a mission.

CW: Mild smut, angst, fluff, emotions. +18 only

A/N: This is part of the Just Friends universe, but pov is 2nd person (you instead of she/her). I'm not sure if this is what you asked for anon...but it's what you're going to get 🥹 

Rain drums your window. You've left it open a crack, and should get up and close it, but you don't have the strength. You can't sleep, you can't get up: it's the wolf's hour and the mood is heavy like the rain clouds that have circled the base for hours now.

It's the first time you hear him breaking in. Well, technically speaking, he's not breaking in anymore, now that he has a key. But it always feels like he comes to see you when you least expect it.

The five-day mission has turned into a four-day and half a night mission, then.

You feign sleep and listen how he takes off his boots. He's illegally quiet without them for such a big man. His shirt meets the floor, then he opens his belt – you know he's about to come and ravish you, and for the first time since forever you are not up for it.

The bed lets out a terrible creak of a wail as he crawls next to you. You fear it's only a question of time before the old metal and wood give in under you two. It's basically a miracle the sturdy bunk hasn't yet broken into pieces from your love.

His length touches you first as he settles behind you. It's hot and hard, lean and sleek, like the rest of the man that soon surrounds you like a copper cable with a pulse. His hand is warm as it slips under the covers and under your shirt. Or actually, his shirt.

"I'm home," he half whispers the obvious. Calls your room his home… Or perhaps it's just you. You're his home now.

The hand drifts to your hip, and it's possessive: he always starts there. You win nothing by pretending to be the sleeping beauty, so your hand comes to rest on top of his.

"Did you have fun..?"

It's a bit of a sick question. But it is what it is. And what's more, he doesn't even answer it.

"I need a fresh pair, Engel," he says with an odd honey to his voice.  "The last one is completely ruined."

You know he's talking about another pair of panties, a comfort object and a lucky charm he takes with him now that he's back in the field again.

The rain taps the window, and the darkness of the room is only pierced by distant hues of blue. The base is never dark, never fully asleep. His hand drags the shirt up, then stops on your ribs.

"You have my shirt on."

It's not a scolding, not at all. It's only a happy, shocked surprise.

"You… You left it here," you turn a little to look at him. You can see his lashes from the darkness of the hood as they drop: he's looking at you with tenderness, although the demanding flesh against the small of your back is far from tender. 

"Mm. You have my shirt and I got your panties... A good deal, eh?"

His hand wanders further under the shirt, cups a handful of your breast. You can feel the cords of muscle bunching against you: abs that contract, thighs that press and lift yours, his cock that gives a taut pull between you two.

Your nipple is caught between hard fingertips, as he twists it like a volume control. Your abs crunch too, out of the sudden sensation that bleeds.

"Hey…"

"I can't concentrate on missions because of you," his voice drops another note or two. And now you are being scolded. But so, so tenderly still…

"Mh, König… Not–not tonight," you whisper, wondering if this man can even take a thing such as a simple no. He lets go of your nipple, but not your breast. 

Not you. Never you.

"You have worries?"

You. You're my only worry.

Your mouth closes, draws into a line. You can't tell him.

“No… No.”

"Let me have you, angel. I've waited so long." His breath is growing heavier, the lean pulse against your back, thicker. 

"I'll make you feel good," he tries to bargain when you're not responding. In a way, you want him too, but for the first time during your... acquintance, you would like him to just hold you. Without the need to throw yourselves off a cliff first.

"Not tonight." You move, then turn in his gentle, throbbing hold, and he almost draws his hand away. "Please, König…?"

"Ok," he says, but looks like he doesn't quite know what to do. Just...hug you? Go to sleep while holding you? It's a change in protocol, but he's willing to do it for you. For that knowledge alone, your hand slithers down, finds his length and wraps around it.

"I can help you? If you want?" 

The rain is thin now, as it bats the glass. He lets you go and gradually leans back, falls to the mattress and allows you to give him a good, long stroke.

"My saving angel," is the only thing he says as he falls as slack as he can – a state which can barely be called relaxed – under your palm.

He's a needy man, and deprived since the last time you saw him. Which is why you know it doesn't take long. You barely see him in the electrically illuminated darkness, but you can feel how the choked sighs ripple across his body. You feel everything: the tight trembles, the density of the air around him. You hear the moist click as he swallows, the panting that rises. The occasional groans that sound like he's crying although he's not.

It's the only way he knows how to feel good, and someday, it just might make you cry. Even the sky cries for him, it seems, because a sudden gust of wind sends an entire sheet of rain against your window.

He's exceptionally quiet, probably because you didn't let him inside you this time. But then you remember he's usually this quiet only when he's emotional.

He's missed you...

That's what this is about – the ever demanding furnace of flesh. He wants to drown in you, burn until there's nothing left. It's been days, and he might've found some privacy to fantasize about you while ruining your lace, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

His hand flies on top of yours after you find that perfect angle, the one he likes. A harsh moan coats the night air, and shoots fireworks inside your stomach. He moves your hand up and down his cock like you can't do it right, but the connection, in truth, speaks of intimacy. The touch is affectionate. It says: 'we'…

Us.

Together.

He hisses, as if he's in pain. But he's just close, and you up the pace: his own hand is now only a loose, gentle cage around yours. He's so long, it seems like it takes forever to travel from the tip to the base, and you're trying to be quick and strong on top of it all. Just milk him well so he can sleep. 

So that perhaps you can sleep.

He looks at what you're doing to him, then looks at you, and it's the vulnerability in that stare that makes you understand he feels equal to that rain. You're his only summer sun. 

Then those lashes flutter, and his eyes turn to glass just before he comes. He spills all over himself with a long groan and a soul-ripping jerk, a giant coming undone under your palm and on your poor bunk bed that has seen so much already. The load is so generous you wonder whether he has even had the time to jerk himself off during the mission. If your innocent lace has barely been touched…

The last spurts are sadder, a few gushes that float to coat your hand, and he finally stills into some form of peace. He breathes in the night, relaxed and empty. You feel like you just worked on an emotional volcano, but he gathers himself quickly, raises to a half sit and tears his shirt off and over your head. Using it to clean himself and your hand, he throws it somewhere on the floor and pulls you on top of him.

Your breasts meet the solid chest, your thighs barely have enough time to go about his hips as he closes you in one of those bear hugs. The half-hard tip of him still throbs against your folds, and only then do you notice you're wet.

"I missed you," he sighs through the mask as you're held tight against his slowly settling pulse. He holds you exceptionally firm, squeezes you against him like you're his favorite toy. He tightens the hold around your middle until you are forced to let out a whimper. Only then does he loosen the hug and give out a gentle chuckle.

"Immer so gut… You feel so good. Always."

His confession is such a normal and yet, such a fragile thing to say, that you feel tears burning in your eyes.

"I missed you too," you say while trying to hide your tears from him.

"If you have worries, you can talk to me," he then says and starts to caress your back. The window is open, and the cool night air rolls in but in his embrace, you don't feel cold. You squeeze your legs and arms around him, feeling like a leech who never wants to let go. Finally, he's holding you, just the way you wanted to…

"It's nothing," you say, when in truth this man has you worried day and night. He's like a fridge you stock full day after day, only to find it empty every morning. And the things he gives you, the things he stuffs you full with… It's like having a cat who likes to fall asleep with you, a tame, purring beast who brings you fat rodents. If you don't praise him for them, he starts to hide them around the house until you wake up one morning to a terrible smell.

"You're the first who's ever hugged me," he mutters somewhere next to your ear. The golden fire inside your stomach turns into pity, horror and pain. 

"Are–are you serious…?" You whisper in the darkness of his mask that's spilled all over your pillow. You know he has had women before you, but apparently, they have never attached to him like this. Like tiny little leeches to a bear.

"Didn't your mother hug you when you were little?"

He thinks on his answer for a second or two, maybe three. The fact that he has to think about it should tell you enough.

"No."

Then, "I can't remember…"

Your lip tugs, your lashes bat away the fire that burns. He's breathing calmly under you again, satiated by a simple handjob and a hug. Although it feels like he's the one hugging you while you're being held captive there on top of him… It feels like he doesn't even quite know what a hug is.

"She had her own troubles," he mutters, sounding like he's about to fall asleep. Even on the brink of oblivion, he defends the woman who didn't know how to hug her own child, because he can survive without touch. No matter what, he will survive. 

His breathing starts to even, and your tears begin to fall. You think of moving from on top of him, to give him space and comfort to get some sleep. But it seems it's not an option, the way he holds you like a plush toy he will never let anyone take from him.

"I think I'm going to sleep now," he rasps, somewhere between awake and sleep. The rain has stopped, and you wonder whether it has only moved somewhere else, if it's now raining inside you. His hold of you tightens just before he slips to sleep.

"Don't let go, Engel…"

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Propaganda:

For Orufrey: "They're tragic wlw who have devoted their lives to each other since they were kids. They live together, they cook together, they're raising four girls together and they're doing the best they can. Olruggio would do anything for Qifrey if Qifrey would just Let Him 😭 but Qifrey is dead-set on protecting Olruggio and keeping him safe and in the dark no matter what it costs... i cant 😭..."

"Man I don't know they just have the vibes. They have toxic yuri energy but they are two grown men. They've known each other since their apprentice days and have stuck together ever since. Qifrey's main magic type was something he took up because Olruggio proposed that he learned to control the water he feared. They live together away from most of society with Qifrey's four apprentices, living the sapphic cottagecore (ateliercore???) dream. Qifrey, due to the fact that his eyesight is very much failing, something which is very problematic when it comes to witches, who need their eyesight more than most, is getting very desperate to get all he lost to the Brimhats, the witches who took one of his eyes and his memories, and Olruggio ends up noticing this pursuit and is implied to have done this more than once. Qifrey does not want Olruggio to know about both his failing eyesight and his goals, so he ends up completely wiping Olruggio's memory of those things, and laments that Olruggio is a kind person, and one who would most likely forgive him again, but also one who would try to save him, even when he didn't want to be saved. He also apologized right up until the moment Olruggio's memories of his secret were gone. In general I think chapter 40 is the somewhat toxic guy yuri chapter ever. I'm very tired so I do not know how to explain any of this, I just thought "wow Orufrey reminds me of this one poll I saw on Tumblr" and then spent three days straight hunting for your blog before completely forgetting my reasoning for Orufrey being yuri right before I submitted this."

For Joongdok: "Well first of all Yoo Joonghyuk has a whole arc that is transfem coded as hell (has a power/technique that can technically only be used by women but somehow he can also use it, for a time he even turns into a woman to wield it and it's. Actually just let me get the quote "The ines of the face had changed but it was clearly Yoo Joonghyuk. No, it was even more than before.") that just kinda happens,, and doesn't get brought up again but anyway. Second of all just look at them. You see the vision. Also a bonus observation is that these two often get shipped in a poly ship with Han Sooyoung and whenever I see people make a "regular couple, yaoi couple, yuri couple, I see no difference love is love" meme with them the combination of which pair among these three is which of the categories is always different"

Note: This submission also mentions Han Sooyoung, but I decided to count this polyship submission as guy yuri as well.

"They love each other, they pretend they don't care for each other but all their actions prove they care too much, if you remove someone from the trio then the resulting duo is extremely dysfunctional, as evidenced by more than a million words of canon. Is it technically guy yuri? Well, Han Sooyoung is a woman, but in a way she's one of the guys. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are men, but the text heavily hints that Yoo Joonghyuk is a trans woman who's just too busy and stressed out to transition yet, and Kim Dokja has just never thought about his own gender a single day in his life. They made the world for each other, they went back in time countless times and waged countless wars for each other, they wrote and read and lived a story, their story, for each other and that's what saved them all. The way Han Sooyoung writes Yoo Joonghyuk's story to save Kim Dokja and loses herself in the process, the way Yoo Joonghyuk voluntarily lives the story to the point of losing himself too and even forgetting why he originally decided to do it, the way Kim Dokja read Han Sooyoung's story which was Yoo Joonghyuk's life and that's how he found himself, they all took so much from each other and gave so much of themselves to each other, this is all very yuri."

"they're so yuri you have no idea. they have every staple of a yuri ship. unwavering devotion. waiting dozens or thousands of years for each other. dooming themselves and the world for each other. so much yearning. i also see them genderbent a lot (including inn canon in the case of yjh) and they're right both of these people are women. i genuinely can't even see them strictly as men at this point they're just yjh and kdj and they are yuri do you understand."

"they're so yuri. the abscense of yuri is the presence of yuri etc etc. these two guys are all ABOUT abscenses. also one of them is a part time woman. the other guy is a guy but like in the same way a square is a rectangle. anyway they're so guyyuri to me. bonus points also because they have a mutual girlfriend and when she's present they're girlyaoi but that's not relevant to this specifically"

[angry-geese]

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything. 

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7. 

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer. 

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room. 

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost. 

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say. 

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two? 

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path. 

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!” 

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn. 

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself. 

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying. 

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her. 

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says. 

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable. 

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring. 

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter. 

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him. 

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised. 

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet. 

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this. 

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable. 

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away. 

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in. 

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself. 

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway. 

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do. 

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments. 

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well. 

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in. 

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt. 

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee. 

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger. 

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all. 

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

[just-some-random-blogger]

I LOVE TEN AND ONE SO MUCH YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i know you said that you’re not yet in soft!daemon feels but what if reader already got pregnant and seeing her pregnant makes daemon so feral & just want to breed her so much…………

Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After trying to get pregnant for months, you fell into a state where all you could do is cry. It left Daemon erratic and so easily triggered. To clear both your minds, he thinks a ride on dragon back would help, but it seems even Caraxes is not in a good mood.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Mentions of failed pregnancies/miscarriage, wife!reader, depressive episodes, smut (sad fucking, rough fucking, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, impregnation kink, claiming kink, cock warming ig), angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: CONGRATULATIONS FOR ACTUALLY CONVINCING ME TO MAKE A P2 OF SOMETHING. a word of caution though, it's probably not exactly what you expect. btw if you're new here, this is technically a part two to Ten & One, but you don't have to read it to get this. It will help you get in the feels more probably, but you don't need to read it to understand. I'd appreciate it if you did read it though LEAVE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS I HELD BACK ON THE PRAISE KINK BUT I ASSURE YOU MINE IS VERY REAL ISTG IM GOING TO GO FERAL IF NO ONE REPLIES TO THIS

"Our home was once so warm," one of the head servants sigh to the two younger servants, "and not because of how Caraxes sometimes has fits, but because the lady of our house warmed it so," she shakes her head, "now she has done nothing but cry and my heart hurts for Lady Targaryen."

"I do hope she finds comfort soon," one younger servant adds with a frown, "my cousin said that her late lady eventually fell ill after grieving so long that she succumbed to her illness."

There was no ill-intent in their words, and yet he could not stand hearing it.

The sharp sound of a sword unsheathing promptly halts the servants.

Daemon is in front of them, coming out of the chamber they were meant to enter. He points Dark Sister at them, jaw clenching tightly at the words he heard them speak.

The three look to their master in fear as he takes a few steps closer to them, "I will not tolerate any word from any tongue about my wife."

Daemon watches them quiver under the gaze of his sword. Had he not been attentive of his wife, he would have killed them out of annoyance. Yet he doesn't, "do your task and leave at once."

The head servant nods and the servants scurry off into the room.

I was lying in bed, chest down, when I heard the telltale sound of footsteps. I peel my teary eyes open and mutter against the cushion, "Mileva?"

My childhood handmaiden turns to me and frowns, "yes, milady, I'm here. I have come to serve you your food."

My eyes begin to water again as I watch her set the food out on the table.

On theme with my other thoughts, I recall how she took care of me as a child, and then how she excitedly told me she was eager to do the same for my children. Her hair was now grey and yet I still had not even one child.

"Mileva," I whine, lips quivering as I reach my hand out to her for comfort.

Daemon walks back in, face hard and tense.

Mileva turns to me and sighs, "oh, sweet child." She walks over to me, taking my hand, kneeling by the side of my bed, "cease your sorrow. You will fall with child soon enough."

"But it's been a year since I've been wed," I sob, pulling her hand towards me, "what if something's wrong with me?"

"N-" "There's nothing wrong with you," Daemon quips before Mileva could speak the same words, albeit with more softness.

Mileva turns to Daemon who stood by the door, as if guarding it, then back to me, pressing a kiss on my knuckles, "my lady, take heart and regain your strength. I know you are going through a difficult season, but soon you will have what you so desire," she brushes my tears away with her calloused hands, "it is not uncommon to experience what you're going through. I myself grieved the same things you do when I first fell with child."

"Oh, Mileva," I weep helplessly, moving to sit up, "I had no idea, and I-"

"Enough, my girl," she hushes, grabbing both of my arms in her hands, "now please, do us all a favor and eat. I would never forgive myself if I allow you to lose yourself completely."

Daemon watches as I move to the table near our bed. Once I sit down, my husband speaks, "you may go now."

In exchange of the company of our servants, Daemon comes upon me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I dumbly look at the food I once loved.

"Your dear Mileva is right, you must regain your strength," he mutters, walking behind me, massaging both my shoulders.

"I feel I will be sick if I so much bring a spoon to my mouth."

He stills his actions then the drags the other chair close to me with a screech. "Shall you prefer I feed you then?" he asks, sitting next to me.

Daemon does nothing but look at me as I gaze off into the abyss that was a plate of food before me.

"I don't think I will ever find peace, Daemon," I mutter, mostly I think to myself, "I was with child," I start to feel tears burn in my eyes, "then I was not."

He brushes his fingers on my cheek, "The gods are to blame, not you."

I finally turn to my husband, chest heaving as salt water runs down my face uncontrollably. He frowns as he sighs, hand taking mine in comfort. I choke on more tears and fall to his side, unable to withhold the helpless yelps in my throat.

Daemon wastes no time in readjusting in his seat, expertly unclasping the holster on his waist, allowing his weapon to clatter to the ground. He then in one scoop brings me onto his lap, allowing me to nuzzle on his neck and pour my sadness onto his skin. His arms envelope around me, behind my back and over my thighs.

I bring my hands up to his cheeks, attempting to even out my breathing as I take in his familiar scent.

Once I finally felt like I wasn't suffocating, I begin to fiddle with Daemon's silver hair.

He leans against my touch. I pepper kisses on his cheeks.

For a moment, he is satisfied with this, but then decides to meet my lips with his own. His hands begin to tighten around me.

I release as sigh, pulling my hands away so I can readjust his grip o me and maneuver my legs over him. He makes no fuss when I straddle him, in fact his arms fiddle with the nightgown I did not bother to change out of from the night before.

My fingers travel to his tunic, and I begin to undo the its clasps. When my hand finally rubs the bare skin underneath his clothing, that's when he halts and pushes me off him to stop our kiss. He is finally certain of my actions.

I look at him. His eyes are closed and yet I could see his resolve dwindling. I place a peck on his lip as I grind down on him.

He groans, legs spreading beneath me. For a moment, he allows me to continue, but then his hands grab on my waist at an attempt to stop me.

I halt at just as he wants, but feel betrayal rise up my throat as I speak, "will you not even have me now, husband?"

Daemon releases a prolonged sigh, leaning his head back on the chair, lightly scratching my sides with his fingers, "with all my strength, I am not strong enough to even think of doing that."

I continue to buck my hips on him again.

His grip tightens but not in an attempt to withhold me.

"Then do not kid yourself by resisting me."

Daemon's eyes finally open with a grunt. The dizziness in his mind clears when he sees my face. He knits his brows and wipes my tears away, "my love."

I blink rapidly as I whine, "have me, Daemon, and end this mourning."

He calls my name, stilling me again with his hands.

This time, I bang on his chest in anger for trying to stop me, but then all at once, I crumble against him in a fit of tears.

Daemon kisses my cheek as he tightly pulls me against him.

We remain like this for a long while.

After being calmed by the sound of his breathing, I finally have the strength to cease my weeping. "I do want you, Daemon," I mutter against his cheek.

"I always want you, my queen," he replies, rubbing my back, "but I do not wish to take advantage of your sorrow."

I move against him again. He loosens his arms around me as I turn to him with glassy eyes, "then have me for no other reason than my own desire to have you, Daemon."

He is about to say something, but my hand on his hardened member takes the words out of his mouth. I palm his through his pants, "will you require me to beg for it on my knees?"

I pull away, hands snaking behind his nape, "I will be most eager to do so," I whisper, hips rolling atop his, "anything to take my mind off this, Daemon."

"Fuck," he hisses, hands tightening around me yet again.

This time, Daemon carries me to our bed and pushes me open underneath him. He hungrily kisses my neck and begins to rub his clothed member against my burning core.

"Take your clothes off," I whimper, urging his tunic and pants off.

In an instant, not only is he naked, but as am I.

Our lips take each other's desperately, and a satisfied moan fights between our kiss when I feel him enter me slowly. My limbs latch around him out of instinct and my fingers dig into the small of his back, urging him to move.

He whispers my name in my ear. He does so with much care that my heart quickens at it.

"I will try my best to be gentle, my love."

I whine at his sentiment, but I nibble his ear in response, "fuck gentle. Ruin me, Daemon. I don't want to walk around any time soon anyway."

Daemon begins to rut his hips into mine upon hearing this. He moves slowly at first, as if to measure the truth in my words. He then enters me at a quicker pace, exhaling deeply against my skin.

I whine his name out, "Daemon please, please, please, fuck me."

He heaves against me, "say that again."

I claw at him and whimper, "please, fuck me so hard I can't walk, Daemon." I match the movement of his hips, "make sure I have no choice but to stay in bed."

That's all it takes for him to thrust into me like a man gone mad.

The sound of skin slapping each other almost makes me unable to hear my cries.

He enjoys breaking my legs open and hammering into my heat. He enjoys it so much that he remains in this position for a while, savoring the feeling. He soon decides to move his hands up my legs and push my knees to my chest. Daemon lifts himself a bit, so he could hook my ankles by his shoulders. The more compromising position makes me stretch my hands above me and grip at the pillows for dear life.

I cry so hard that I don't hear anything else. I'm sure even if there weren't anyone near our chambers, my screams would still be heard.

"Do you like it when I take you like this, wife?" he asks, or challenges almost.

I'm too fucked up to reply and only the in sync rising and falling of my voice to his relentless slamming was what he got out of me.

He finds a more secure stance on his knees, and he latches his fingers under my knees as he drives into me like it was what was going to keep him alive.

His breathing is unbelievably controlled in comparison to my raggedy hitches.

As Daemon looks before him, his hands reach out to my core then to my belly. His mind floods with obscene images of previous couplings. He groans at the ideas flooding his head. He rubs my belly, "you will look so glorious filled up with my seed."

I whine as his hands grab my breasts.

"Maybe I should fill up all your pretty holes, hmm?" he pants, "but maybe then your body wouldn't know what to do with my seed anymore."

I release a string of curses as my hands shoot up to grip his biceps. My back arches to better feel him and mentally thank myself for it, screaming ecstasy when he knocks on me just right. He chuckles in satisfaction, "so fucking eager, my love."

In a twist of fate, he pulls out of me.

I'm too delirious to even realize it or manage to complain. All at once I'm being flipped onto my knees. I do however know exactly when he pulls on my hips and slams into me with dare I say more intent. I don't even manage to push myself on my arms as I am utterly boneless against him.

"Daemon."

His response to the sound of his name was to rub my sensitive nub with his keen fingers. His other hand yanks on the roots of my hair, "who does your cunt belong to?"

I growl, one hand coming to his that was pulling my head back. I am even more unable to push myself up. I scream his name.

"Mine," he growls, "mine," he flicks his hips.

He yanks on my hair again, "say it. Who do you belong to?"

"You," I heave, "you, you, you, you-"

"Good," he praises as I loose my mind, "I'll make sure you only ever cry over how good my cock makes you feel," he mutters breathily. And although his words are lewd, there is a certain sincerity to it.

Much like before, because I never really stopped, tears begin to drip from my eyes in a tinge of pleasure, pain, and residual sorrow.

Daemon massages my scalp with his fingers as his thrusts reach a quick and steady pace. I can almost feel him hit inner most parts of my mind and taste him on my tongue.

My head helplessly crumbles onto the cushions when he releases me so he can piston inside me at a better angle. My screams are finally muffled.

My husband seems not to appreciate it as he yanks my hair back and forces my shouts to me audible again, "let them hear me breed my you, wife, scream out who makes you feel like this."

At this point, I've left my mouth gaping too long that my throat dries up and the sounds of his name that I produce leaves a burning sensation.

I feel my stomach begin to tighten at his ministrations.

"That's right," he encourages, "chase that feeling on my cock," he says, "come around me, darling. Come on."

My hips instinctively buck against him at the sound of his encouragements.

Daemon revels in the repetition of his name. He feels like he is invincible at the praising sounds.

I inevitably quake around him as if it was the surface beneath that forced me to do so. My voice is absolutely wrecked at the cry that leaves my lips.

Daemon rubs my core again, milking my reaction for all he's got.

Once even my knees began to give in, that's when I feel Daemon's heat shoot into so sharply that my body quakes all over again. He fucks into me even after. There is so much of him that I feel him drip out of me with wet squelching sounds.

My womanhood is practically crying at this point.

"I'll do you well, wife," he announces, pace drastically slowing, "I'll fuck you good even if the gods obstruct your womb from carrying my seed."

I repeat his name over and over again.

Daemon finally stops, but he does not exit me. He rubs my butt in a soothing attempt, "let me stay like this for a while, your cunt is leaking."

I shake my head, "no please, turn me over. I want to hold you, Daemon."

He does not dare deny me this.

He quickly uses his strength and expertly has me on my back, barely pulling out as he does so.

He wraps my legs around him snugly as he eventually presses his chest against mine. I seal his torso in my arms. He sighs in content when he finds his face on the crook of my neck. He lazily kisses my skin as his his arms loop around my own body.

"I love you, Daemon," I mutter, fingers lightly grazing his skin.

"I love you," he responds, "I will continue to be a slave to your desires."

"Good," I pipe up blinking away the tears that were left in my eyes, "I don't want you to leave me today. Stay right here, like this."

Daemon kisses my neck, "I wouldn't dare move from where I lie."

A good seven days passed, and I was feeling a lot more myself.

Daemon, in all his paranoia that something would happen to me the moment he's not looking, made sure to either not leave my side, or to bring me everywhere with him. And since he really did leave me in quite a discomfort after our intense fucking, it was only now that he was able to bring me along to accomplish his errands.

In all his smugness, he offered to carry me if I still found it difficult to walk. I, of course, slapped him because of this. It obviously didn't hurt him, because I meant it not too, but he promised me he'd get even for it.

Today, we were apparently going for a ride on dragon back.

"How have you been, boy," Daemon calls in High Valyrian as we made our way to his dragon.

Caraxes whines the way he always does. I smile at the creature, sensing somehow that he had missed his rider. Daemon catches this and squeezes my hand in response.

All at once, Caraxes whines shift into a louder more desperate version, dare I say it was a form of discomfort. The unforeseen reaction makes me nervous, especially when the large creature makes his way towards me.

Daemon feels Caraxes' agitation, but he is more concern about mine, which is why he releases my hand and raises it up to the dragon. He promptly scolds the beast in a long string of High Valyrian I wouldn't have been able to understand even if I wanted to.

Caraxes screeches, seemingly determined to go to me.

I decide to walk back slowly, although I do this out of concern more than fear. Perhaps he wanted his rider all to himself. I agree with my mental thought, since deep down, I knew Caraxes would not turn to me will ill-intent.

One of the keepers, I find, is suddenly ghosting a hand over my arm. I gasp at the unexpected touch and furrow my brows at his words that I do not understand.

Daemon's gaze rips away from his dragon over to the keeper, "what did you say?"

The keeper turns from me to my husband, hand pulling away so he could motion to the restless Caraxes.

Daemon's face contorts at whatever it was that he was told. My concern now drifts from the dragon to his rider, "Daemon? What is it?"

He turns away from me, back to Caraxes, hushing him, "I understand now, boy."

I look at Daemon as he offers me his hand without turning away from his mount. I wordlessly take his hand in mine. Daemon pulls me slowly in front of him, hands going to my sides.

Caraxes stands on his legs upon seeing me, letting out a powerful roar.

I reel back, pressing against my husband's chest, "Daemon, I-"

"It's alright," he mutters against my ear.

Daemon looks up to his dragon then screams some sort of accusation.

Caraxes lands back on his claws, huffing out so deeply that there is a strong gust of air that nearly blows me away. Had it not been for Daemon behind me, perhaps I would have fallen on my ass.

Suddenly, I hear Daemon shudder. His hand travel to my belly. He takes one step forward, moving in front of me and calls my name out in praise before kneeling before me.

I look down at him in concern, almost not noticing how Caraxes brings his snout close to me.

I am distracted by the dragon head that I almost don't hear Daemon say, "you're with child."

My hand darts up to Caraxes and my eyes widen as I turn back down to my husband.

He kisses my skirt, but I shake my head in disbelief, "don't mess with me, Daemon."

Daemon looks up at me then stands. He hushes me as he takes my face in his hands, "Caraxes can sense it," he presses a kiss on my forehead, "the gods have finally bended to my will."

Tears begin to glaze my eyes. "Daemon," I grip his wrist and look up at him, "I'm so happy, but what if-"

"Shhh," he pulls me against him, "I will not have you speak ill of this glorious discovery."

I begin to weep, and it seems Caraxes does not enjoy it for he huffs helplessly upon hearing it.

"I will be here, my love," he mutters, "I will do all I can to make sure nothing harms you or our child."

Caraxes makes a sound that seems to be of agreement.

[dearmantis]

Written Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Reader

Summary: As the librarian of the Grand Palace library, you're expected to take care of the books, maps, letters and other documents stored there. You don't expect the General of the Second Army to show up randomly and ask you for a book recommendation.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors' Note: Technically this isn't really fem!Reader but there's a part that kind of makes more sense with a fem!Reader which is why it's tagged that way, just fyi. I just want to be safe here and not disappoint anyone. The library is also inspired by the library in my home town which is huge but also very chaotic with shelves standing around everywhere, forming what's basically a big labrinth. It's really cool, honestly. This is also not edited and I'm not a native English speaker.

You smile when your eyes find him, quietly walking through the entrance of the big library, finger gliding along the spines of the many books resting in the shelves as he takes his first steps into the labyrinth of bookcases. He looks at peace here, you think.

On the few occasions where you have seen him outside of your little domain, his muscles had been tense, his jaw clenched and a cold, sharp look on his face, eyes as dark as the fold itself.

But now he looks kind. Kind and sweet and good, even in his dark, scary clothes, his big, heavy boots and bulletproof kefta. He doesn't carry himself as if his whole body is one big weapon anymore. He always takes time to speak with you when he visits, soft spoken and polite as he asks you about your day, the books you read and your work in general.

And other than the other Generals he respects the system after which the books are sorted. He puts everything back where he finds it, brings the materials he borrows back before the due date with no exceptions, and he is quiet, steps always immediately decreasing in volume as soon as he walks through the doors of your library.

Well, it's not your library, technically, but it's close enough. It's not like the king, queen or their children ever made a singular step on the dark wooden floors you sweep twice a day. No, it's just him and the other members of court who visit you.

You don't know why General Kirigan visits though. You've seen the library of the Little Palace on a few different occasions now and it's quite beautiful there. While it's definitely smaller than the library of the Grand Palace you don't think it's lacking in anything.

A part of you is tempted to compare the inventory list of the library in the Little Palace with the borrowing history of the Shadow Summoner, but you can never bring yourself to actually do it. It feels like a violation of his privacy, and what would you even do if you found out that he's borrowing books he could get in his own library here from you? It's not a crime to prefer the Grand Palace library after all, and you do have a much larger variety of books here.

And in the back of your mind there's a quiet voice, whispering that he may be coming here for you, and you fear that the voice will get louder if you choose to compare the lists and find out that he does in fact borrow books from here that he could get in the library of the Little Palace. It's a selfish, foolish thought you shouldn't entertain, but it's also the only explanation that really makes sense. The only clear differences between the Grand Palace library and the Little Palace library is the amount of books and you, and if he's not here for the books-

"Excuse me?" Your gaze finds the eyes of a young servant girl who hesitantly smiles at you. "Could you help me find a book? One of the guests has asked for a copy of Epitome Astronomiae Copernicanae. He says he has unfortunately forgotten his own copy at home and desperately needs it if he's supposed to present his own observations and research at court tomorrow."

Mirroring her smile you nod, opening the folder you use to keep track of all the books, maps and other materials currently outside of the library and placing it on the desk in front of you, before waving your hand to silently ask her to follow you.

Back when you were new here you had a small little map scribbled on a thin piece of paper that you carried everywhere with you, showing where exactly all the categories of books are positioned, but after several years here you know every shelf like the back of your hand. There's not a single book in this gigantic library that you can't locate in thirty seconds maximum, so the little scrap of paper got to retire.

Quickly moving between the many shelves you have to force yourself to slow down a bit to make sure the woman doesn't get lost on the way, waiting a few seconds every time you walk around a new shelf to make sure she can catch up, until the bookcase you're looking for is finally in sight.

You're so deeply focused on finding the book quickly that you don't even notice that someone else is standing two shelves next to this one, your eyes glued to the spines to find the fight title.

"It should be... ah! Here it is." It's a beautiful book, with carefully dyed dark blue leather binding, its title painted on in silver ink. It's so beautiful you could swear that a Fabrikator must've gotten their hands on it at some point in its creation. Slowly pulling it out of its designated place in the shelf you give it to the servant girl.

You're about to walk her back to your desk to fill out the required documents when a voice behind you stops you.

"I'm sorry, could you please help me find a book?"

Whirling around you almost freeze in place when you realise the person who asked for your help is none other than General Kirigan himself, the man himself standing a few metres away from you, spine straight and shoulders stiff in the way you've seen him act outside of the library.

How odd. I thought the library brings him comfort?

"Oh, of course! Uh..." Eyes darting between the General and the Servant for a few seconds, the young woman frees you from your predicament with another kind smile.

"I think I can find my way back to the desk on my own. If I have any trouble filling out the documents myself I will wait for you, alright?"

Nodding quickly you wave as she leaves, before turning back around to the Shadow Summoner, who's now patiently waiting a few steps away from you.

"Alright, General, what can I assist you with? Which book are you looking for?"

His gaze visibly softens, muscles slowly relaxing until he's no longer standing straight like a candle. He finally looks like the version of him you're used to again.

"I'm looking for a novel."

"A novel?" You echo, unable to stop yourself in time. "The novels are in a different corner of the library. What exactly are you looking for?"

He smiles slightly, hand moving to the back of his neck as if he's a bit embarrassed by the answer. "I would like a recommendation from you, actually."

It takes you a few seconds to register what he said. It's quite literally the last thing you expected to hear from the man.

"A recommendation?" you echo quietly, frowning, and watch as he nods.

"You spend all day around these books, and every time I'm here you're reading. I can't imagine anyone else being a better source for book recommendations than you."

To hide the bashful smile sneaking its way onto your lips you turn around, asking him to follow you as you lead him to the other side of the enormous library. This time you don't feel the need to slow down as you walk around the labyrinth of shelves, the General's long legs making sure that he's never far behind you, no matter how quick you are. You already know which book to give him, despite how sure you are that it's not going to agree with his own taste in literature.

When you finally stand in front of the right bookshelf you don't even have to look around to see where the book is, eyes automatically moving to the familiar leather bound object. "I don't think you're the type of person to be interested in this type of stuff, but it is my favorite book, so..." You whisper, more to yourself than to him, carefully pulling the book out of the shelf.

"Oh? Why is that?" the General asks, eyebrows lifting curiously.

You can feel how the apples of your cheeks heat up when you realise that he heard what you said. "Well... uhm. It's just...". It's hard to find the right words, the risk that he's going to take your comment as an insult a bit too big for your comfort. "I don't think you'd enjoy things like silly love stories."

"Silly love stories?" The General sounds scandalised, but there's an amused glimmer in his eyes that calms you down before you get a chance to start panicking.

Humming quietly you nod, holding the book out to the General. "Don't misunderstand me. I think everyone deserves to lose themselves in sweet stories, but you don't seem like the type of person to agree with my mindset. If I had to guess, I would say you're the type of man who thinks all of this soft stuff is just an unwanted distraction from the war."

He purses his lips, eyes focused on the book cover you're still holding out to him, before he carefully reaches out and removes the book from your grasp to open it and read the first page.

"What is it about? I mean, besides the love story. What is the conflict?"

When you take a few seconds to answer him his dark gaze moves to meet yours again, eyebrows slowly lifting as he waits for you to summarise the plot.

"It's, uhm..." Turns out simply recommending someone your favourite book is one thing, while actually having to summarise it to explain why they should read it is an entirely different issue. You're not sure if you can find the right words to explain the plot without sounding like a foolish, overly romantic idiot.

"It's about a servant, Sophie, and a member of the royal court who fall in love." You don't specify that the servant's love interest is technically a General. "So it's mainly about that and the taboo aspect of it, but there's also a whole war going on that is quite important in the majority of the book. It would probably be more accurate to say that it's a political drama with a romance subplot, but I loved the romance so much that it overshadowed everything else in the story for me."

When you finally finish your explanation he has that soft smile on his lips again and a warm feeling starts to become noticeable in your chest.

"Why would I not like a political drama with an outstanding love story subplot?" The shadow summoner asks.

"Well, like I said. I didn't think you would be someone who'd enjoy the love story aspect much, and I think that's what makes this book better than a lot of other political dramas."

The General looks at you for a few seconds, deep in thought, before he closes the book and starts to look through the shelves.

You want to ask him if you can help him find what he's looking for, but he holds his hand up to silence you before you even get the chance to open your mouth, as if he already knows what you were about to say.

"It should be here somewhere..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, a deep frown on his face.

It takes a bit but after a few seconds the serious look on his face turns back into the smile you love, his hand moving to pull one of the books out of the shelf. When he holds it out for you to take there's a boyish glimmer in his eyes, a spark of excitement that you usually see in children, and you wish you could immortalise it somehow, keep it alive in this sad, tragic world. It feels special to see this type of expression on the usually cold and distant face of the Darkling. Like the Saints gave you a special gift, just for you to keep safe and cherish.

Carefully taking the book out of his hands you let your gaze glide over the ink-black leather cover for a few seconds, fingers tracing the silver drawing of a crescent moon on the front, before you open the book and begin to skim the first page.

"This is my favourite love story." he explains before you even get a chance to question why he has given you this book in particular. "This is the story of Andrei and Isolde. Andrei moves around the country, from town to town, to hide the fact that he is an immortal beast, cloaked in the skin of a human. In one of those towns he pretends to be a Prince from a foreign country and meets Isolde, a clever woman who works as a seamstress. He asks her to make him a cloak for the upcoming winter, and during the weeks she spends working on it, she begins to uncover what Andrei truly is."

Your eyes widen a bit, intrigued by the premise. "What is Andrei?"

He laughs lightly, a sound that reminds you of cold nights during the winter, drinking warm tea and reading a nice book. "You will have to read the story to figure that out."

Closing the book again you move to press it tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself in the process to stop yourself from nervously playing with your fingers, trying to force the words out before you end up wasting this glorious opportunity. Your mind is racing but this is a chance, an opening, the possible start of something new.

"How about we read each other's book recommendations and then meet up again to talk about it?" you propose, voice a bit too quiet and anxious for your liking. The General is silent for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and you're suddenly very sure that you have misread his softness towards you. That his kindness has just been simple politeness and he has absolutely no interest in spending time with a servant below his own social standing.

"Like a date?" he asks, and before you can get a chance to give into your fear and backtrack, he nods, the smile on his lips widening into a full grin. "I think I would enjoy that, yes. I will try to keep my schedule free for... let's say next week?"

You can't stop yourself from beaming up at him, the happiness you feel rushing through your body like a wave. "That sounds great. I can't wait to start reading. A love story recommended by you can only be fantastic."

"I hope the book brings you as much joy as it has brought me. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on Andrei."

"And I can't wait to hear what you think of Sophie."

[chiisana-sukima]

Hello, what do you think about the take, and what Dean says in that one episode, that Sam is not like John than Dean?

Hi, Nonny! Thanks for the ask!

I'm guessing the episode you mean is 04x19 Jump the Shark, where Dean says Sam is more like John than he himself (Dean) ever was. If not, my apologies for misinterpreting, and I hope this is interesting anyway.

Imo accusations in spn of someone being like John are mainly about four things: anger, stubbornness, the desire for revenge, and child endangerment. And about those, my main thought is this:

image source

I do think early spn makes comparisons between John and Sam that are intended to represent character flaws Sam needs to struggle against and overcome. Sam is sometimes angry, he's often very stubborn, and there are multiple seasons where he's driven in part by desire for revenge. For better or worse though, I don't find the comparison very compelling; mainly because anger, stubbornness, and desire for revenge are all morally neutral. The only actual bastard in that combo up above is the child endangerment, which isn't really relevant to early seasons Sam.

Anger, and even hate, don't actually lead to the dark side of the Force; maladaptive responses to emotions do. Whether one wants to go to Blackwater Ridge like Dad said to practice one's vigilante serial killing profession or search for Jessica's murderer to do the same is not the compelling ethical problem spn makes it out to be. Either option results in killing (people-like-)monsters that are killing people while being too busy to kill other (people-like-)monsters that are killing other people. And everyone who's dead at the end of the day is equally dead regardless of whether one's motive was "pure" (saving people) or "stained" (revenge).

To give spn what credit it's due, s4, where this comparison from Dean occurs, *is* the closest Sam ever comes to having anger and desire for revenge drive him into maladaptive and harmful behavior. Especially in the flashback scenes to when Dean was in Hell, Sam is at least having a really rough time of it, even if he still honestly seems to not be harming anyone (more than usual for a hunter) but himself.

Any moral dimension is significantly undercut by the fact that Sam's kill count in s4 is not especially high (Sam 9/Dean 10), as well as by the fact that the behavior Dean doesn't approve of is saving possessed hosts instead of offing them indiscriminately as collateral damage to get at the demons inhabiting them.

And this quote itself is especially weirdly vibes-over-substance in that Dean is just disillusioned with Sam because Sam is disillusioned with life. There is no actual moral element to discuss. Adam was long dead before they got there. Sam is technically on the correct end of the argument: being left in the dark--the path Dean was advocating throughout the episode, and that he's bitter in this speech that Sam disagreed with him on--did possibly factor into getting Adam and his mom killed. Certainly Sam disagreeing with Dean in the present did not. But honestly, who cares either way? None of it is relevant now. Dead is dead, and neither Sam nor Dean had anything to do with it or has anything to be ashamed of.

Which brings me to the one thing the person who did have something to do with it actually should have been ashamed of: John treated all his kids badly. Whether he was motivated by anger and a desire for revenge or by fear for their safety or the side effects of alcoholism or not being able to keep it in his pants or whatever else is really only minimally relevant in terms of how much harm his behavior caused them.

And while I'm not a huge fan of the "Dean is Sam's parent" reading of spn, there's no doubt that because of John's neglect and parentification of Dean, Dean often feels like he was functionally Sam's parent. Which is fine! Feelings are neutral! But he also conducts his half of their relationship from within that paradigm; which is not great in the show's present because Sam is an adult.

And given all that, lets get back to Dean's "you were more like him than I'll ever be". Who, by the end of the season, is endangering their "child" here? Who, in Levee, puts their own needs and the needs of the hunt above the life of the person they (feel they) raised? Who says "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back"? And how likely do we all think it is that the writers didn't do that on purpose?

[mustainegf]

→ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖

The night  had blurred by; both of us were extremely tired but satisfied that the nursery was set up. When night began to slip into darker hours, we went to bed. I was surprised when James crawled into bed beside me instead of heading for the couch. It was a tender gesture, one that made me feel good.

Awkwardly, we lay on our backs, me due to my pregnancy and him due to his injuries. Hands reached out to each other in the darkness, fingers intertwining. With only our breathing in sync and faraway noises from city traffic, the room was otherwise quiet.

James coughed, breaking a rather awkward silence. "Honey," he started softly, already sounding unsure. "I want to level with you. If I'm going to commit to you and the baby, I don't want to lie. You deserve the truth."

A knot of fear tightened my stomach. His words, though well meaning, only filled me with fear. What was he going to tell me? 

"I... I have to tell you something," he continued, his voice tight. "A few nights before my accident, I slept with some groupie. I was hammered drunk, and it just happened. I know it wasn't technically cheating because we weren't together… but- I still feel terrible about it… and you deserve to know."

It hung there, heavy and suffocating, this confession. My heart fought inside my chest as I tried to digest his words. Anger mixed with hurt and betrayal, yet relief also blackened the strange feeling twisting through me. He was being honest with me, he cared enough to come clean. And for that, I wasn’t upset.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "James," I said quietly, my voice shaking. "I appreciate you telling me… because it shows you really want to be a committed dad, you care enough to tell me the truth."

His eyes searched mine for any sign of forgiveness as he squeezed my hand. "I couldn’t hide it from you. I know it doesn't count as cheating or anything, but it feels wrong, and I’m sorry. You and the baby mean everything to me, and I need you to know that I’m real about changing. Just looking back on it makes me feel gross."

Slowly, I nodded. My mind had still been reeling because it was too much to take. "I'm not mad about what you did," I confessed, my throat tightening. "I understand that we weren't together and we've both made mistakes, but… why are you telling me this now? Of all times, why now?"

James winced, his brow furrowing as he looked for the right words. "I just... I wanted to start fresh. No secrets, no lies. I wanted to tell you sooner rather than later. I thought—I thought it was the right thing to do…”

I closed my eyes to his confession; its weight was upon me. The room seemed stifling; the atmosphere charged. "I need some time to think," I finally responded barely above a whisper. "Go sleep on the couch, James. We'll talk in the morning."

He nodded, etched on his face the sadness, but I knew he agreed. "Okay," he said softly, "I understand."

He bent at the waist, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft, gentle kiss. "Goodnight," he whispered, his tone rife with regret.

Another I felt a lump in my throat as his lips brushed against my belly. "Goodnight, little one," he whispered, his voice breaking a little, which only made me sadder.

I watched silently as he rose to his feet and walked slowly out of the room, stiff and openly in pain. The door shut softly behind him and closed me in behind with my thoughts.

Sleep did not seem to want to come to me that night, for my mind kept running on and on about what James had said. I was trying to zone in on the positive notes, it was his willingness to be honest, to change, but it wasn't that easy to rid myself of hurt and confusion.

Next morning, I woke up to the first light of dawn peeping through the curtains. All that happened last night rushed in front of me, and it  settled within the hollow of my chest. I knew we needed to talk.

Quietly, I got out and crept into the living room where James was sleeping on the couch, his worried face from sleep reflected his problem. I stood there watching him, feeling my heart fill with love and pain.

Gently reached to shake his shoulder, "James," I said softly, "Wake up."

His eyelids flickered open, and his baby blues rose to mine. He winced, jerking up into a sitting position, confusion clouding his expression before understanding finally blossomed. "Hey…” he spoke in a low, husky tone, wincing again. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded. My face felt tight and a little numb as I sat beside him. "We need to talk," I said. My voice was surprisingly even, if a little flat. "About everything."

He nodded, his expression very guilty. "I know. And I'm ready."

"James, I appreciate your honesty," I began softly. "But the timing of your confession. Why then? We're trying to rebuild something, and it feels like a setback."

He nodded, regret in his eyes. "I understand. I just didn't want to start this new chapter with any secrets. I wanted you to know everything."

"I know," I said softly. "And I'm glad you told me. But this is going to take some time. We have to help each other through this."

He reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm willing to do whatever. I want to be the best father I can be."

I looked into his face, into his eyes, there I saw sincerity and how truthful he was really being. "I believe you, James."

He nodded, his expression set. "One step at a time."

The only sounds inside were those of our soft movements and the occasional murmurs of conversation. Yes, the morning had brought heavy emotions, but there seemed to be clarity brought by such honesty, even though the way ahead remained… uncertain to say the least..

James sat, his shirt off to give me better access to his injuries, on the bed's edge. His burns were bad, angry red skin blistered off his body. It hurt me to see him like this, yet I was determined to help him recover.

I gathered the ointment, some clean bandages, and gauze, then sat beside him. "This is going to hurt a little," I said softly.

He nodded at me, bracing himself. "I trust you."

I took a deep breath, careful not to hurt him further as I began to apply the ointment. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath, but didn't move. 

"You're doing great," I murmured, trying to comfort him.

James held a small smile. " I don't know what I'd do without you."

I continued to clean his cuts, but all the same, I couldn't help my mind from straying to the ultrasound appointment later that afternoon. I needed him there, for me, for us to see this baby and feel closer. Things between us had been really shaky, but this was important for both of us.

"James," I said, breaking the silence. "I, um… I have an ultrasound later today. I want you to come with me."

He turned his eyes to mine; his surprise was obvious. "You want me to come?"

I nodded as I finished the last of the bandaging. "Yes. I think that would be good for you to see the baby, to be a part of this."

He took a deep breath, his face quite serious. "I want to be there for every moment."

I smiled, a warmth spreading through my chest. "Thank you."

We sat there for a moment, our hands finding each other again, the connection between us fragile but real. 

"I'm trying," James said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "I'm trying to be the man you and the baby need."

"I know you are," I said, squeezing his uninjured hand. "And I see it."

It was late in the afternoon when we finally arrived at the clinic. James stuck close beside me, a reassuring comfort. His eyes showed he was really very nervous while we were sitting down, but there was excitement.

My name was called, and we both rose to enter the examination room. The technician welcomed us with a warm smile and led me onto the bed, directing me as he started to set up the machine. James stood beside me, his hand gently rested on my shoulder.

She smeared the cool gel on my stomach, and, in mere seconds, the screen came to life with the image of our baby. James's eyes grew wide, and his face was a picture of pure curiosity.

"There's your baby," said the technician, leaning forward to point at the screen. "Everything looks good."

James leaned further forward, his eyes fastened upon the screen. "Wow," he breathed. "Look at that..."

This was so much more than a simple medical checkup; this was bonding, I could see it in his face.

"Can you see those little hands and feet?" I asked softly, looking over at James.

James nodded, and his eyes welled up with tears. "Yeah..."

The technician continued the scan, showing us various details and making sure everything was going well. James asked questions, and it was obvious that he wanted to know every detail about our baby and be involved in every phase of this pregnancy.

"Do you want to know the gender?" she asked, looking at us both.

Mine fell on James, his eyes seemed to dance with expectation. "I think we’re going to keep it a surprise," I said softly.

James smiled and nodded in agreement, still speechless looking at the screen.

The scan resumed as I reached out and took James's hand, squeezing it gently. 

The appointment was over, and with a fresh set of ultrasound pictures, we were all set to return home. James handled these pictures like they were pure glass, as if they were the closest things to gold he had ever held in his life. 

When we got home, James was insistent on putting up the new pictures in the nursery, carefully pinning them to the bulletin board. He stood back, admirably gazing at the images.

"This is our baby," he said softly, turning to me. "I want to do everything right."

I walked to him, putting my arms around him cautiously because of his hurt arm. "We'll figure it out," I said, trying to sound braver than what I was feeling.

He bent down, kissing my forehead first, then my belly. "I'm ready," he whispered. "I’m ready to be a father."

As we lay down to bed that night, lying close and holding hands, being so close with him, helped me feel better. 

We drifted to sleep, breathing slow, James’ hand on my growing belly. We were ready for this baby, out at least as ready as we could be.

IM SO SORRY GUYS I KNOW THIS WAS LONG AWAITED, IM GONNA BE UPDATING THIS STORY MORE FREQUENTLY NOW THAT FORGET ME NOT HAS FINISHED!!!

[ghostytoad]

🎃 ROTTMNT Halloween Headcanons 🎃

Horror Movies

Summary: The Hamato siblings & horror movies

Headcanons for: Raph, Donnie, Leo, Mikey, & April

Halloween Headcanons - Haunted House Edition

Halloween Headcanons - Haunted House (x Reader ver.)

i added a few horror movie references here and there (betcha can't name 'em all!)

Raph:

Favorite genre: Zombie horror

Least favorite genre: Gore/Torture

isn't too fond of horror movies; would rather watch action movies

he's convinced that 'based on a true story' movies are 100% real

easily jumpscared but tries to laugh it off every time

leo will tease him about his fear stink tho

believes twilight technically counts as horror

"it's a movie about vampires and high school! how'zat not scary?"

might watch horror movies alone if he's surrounded by plushies and his blanket

won't sleep all night tho

leaves the light on after a horror marathon "just in case"

Donnie:

Favorite genre: Psychological when done right; Time-loop horror

Least favorite genre: Found footage

isn't too bothered by horror movies

but plot holes will frustrate him to no end

and he WILL make his brothers listen to him rant about it afterwards

"SCOFF! he was OBVIOUSLY a ghost, literally no one else noticed him or talked to him!"

prefers j-horror (subbed even tho he understands japanese)

he doesn't have a favorite movie but he does like the japanese film 'horrors of malformed men' (江戸川乱歩全集恐怖奇形人間)

considers found footage horror movies inferior and 'lazy'

spends most of the movie criticizing the characters and making fun of the villain

was terrified of pennywise as a kid (dvd rental mix-up that went unnoticed by papa splinter)

for the longest time, he thought pennywise lived in their sewers

Leo:

Favorite genre: Slasher movies; Parody horror

Least favorite genre: Classic

he loves horror movies and binges them for halloween

joins in on donnie's commentary, which mildly annoys mikey and raph

most of leo's commentary is just making fun of his brothers

"oh hey, don bon! i had no idea you were on tv... congrats on the blob monster role~!"

finds silent horror movies to be incredibly booooring

enjoys campy 80s horror (evil dead 2, gremlins, creepshow, ect)

unironically considers killer klowns from outer space a masterpiece

is banned from picking movies bc of this

might get spooked from time to time

not that he'll admit it

nothing can shake this ninja warrior, nuh uh no way

Mikey:

Favorite genre: Paranormal/Ghost movies

Least favorite genre: Psychological

considers himself a "horror expert" and owns all the classics

likes to play "who would survive this plot" with his brothers during the movie

according to him, leo's usually the most likely to die first

has a plan for every possible zombie apocalypse scenario (that he totally didn't get from a bunch of zombie movies)

"i'm not saying that he *should*, but donnie could totally build a giant prison maze for ghosts. it'll be just like the movie!"

will occasionally watch scary movies alone in the dark

overestimates his fearlessness every time-

loves a good ghost movie but he's a bit of a scaredy cat

might need a few cutesy romance movies afterwards to feel better

April:

Favorite genre: Found footage

Least favorite genre: Slasher/Killer horror

loves a good horror movie binge and will jump on any chance to watch them with her brothers

always ready with halloween themed snacks and candies

is also a self-proclaimed "horror expert"

she knows a lot more than mikey tho

can tell you about the directors, the history of horror movies, and the stories the movies are based on with complete detail

"movie night at my place? i've got just the thing to scare y'all out of your shells~"

rec is probably one of her top 5 favorite movies

likes the idea of creating her own found footage horror movie

mikey, leo, and splinter are all on board to be in her movie

donnie and raph? not so much

[emocl0wnpp]

Finally i had time to write the LJ headcanon post..or well my "LJ rewrite"...so here it is!

My LJ rewrite/headcanons!!

( I'll try to leave my oc x canon stuff out of here as much as i can)

🎪

Basics:

Name: Laughing Jack or LJ (or Jackie if you're very close with him)

Age: probably over 200,but in human years honestly no idea-

Gender: AGENDER/GENDERLESS LJ PROPAGANDA!! (He presents as male and refers to himself as one,but technically he can be anything)

Pronouns: honest to god he doesn't care,but since Issac called him a boy,he uses he/him,but otherwise he don't give a fuck

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 225cm/ 7"3

Twins with Laughing Jill(he's younger by like 10 minutes,Jill treats that as 10 years)

Idk how to list this but he's british🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

🎪

Personality:

Honest to god i don't remember his canon personality💀💀

Basically,he's a jerk. A little dipshit who will cause trouble with his tricks and pranks,especially if he doesn't like you. At first glance he's quite mean and sarcastic,buuut if he finds you cool enough/gets attached he's a whole different person(totally not projecting onto him rn)

Once he actually likes someone enough to consider them a friend,he's much kinder and sweeter.

He's pretty caring actually

He will hold back on his mean and sarcastic comments..unless you're into that

He tries ANYTHING to keep his friends close,literally anything. Magic tricks,jokes,drowning them with candy and affection,tieing them up in his circus so they can't leave,the usual things

He has trouble understanding emotions in general,especially other people's,and has trouble managing his own,ESPECIALLY his anger and saddness

Terrible,horrible abandonment and attachment issues

He's very impulsive,he usually does/says things without thinking them through first(again totally not projecting)

I'll dare to say that my version of LJ has Borderline personality disorder

Idk if this counts to personality or no but my man is touch starved. Touch him once and he won't let go of you

🎪

Other important stuff idk how to categorize:

Scratches himself a lot,especially when he's uncomfortable or nervous...and since he has sharp claws they leave marks(that's why his arms and stomach are wrapped up)

Used to be ashamed of his freckles so he covered them up with makeup(not anymore tho :3)

His favourite candies are lollipops

Dark humor is his favourite thing in the world

my man can stretch his limbs as long as possible,comes in handy when he's lazy to get up to grab something

His british accent comes out when he talks too fast

Throws around medival knight words for fun/to annoy others

He has a circus :^D

And in that circus he has little ghost kids running around(he won't admit but he's kinda like a father figure to them)

He has a little doll collection at his circus

He mostly kills kids between the ages of 10 and above,unless the kid is like extra annoying or something

Like i mentioned before,he's terrified of abandonment

Claustrophobia. Specifically he's terrified of small spaces(thanks to being locked in a small box for god knows how long)

Also fight me but he has a small fear of the dark,mostly in small spaces

🎪

Design/looks:

CONFETTI FRECKLES!!!

Like a lot of them all over his face and body

He has a little mole under his left eye

Scars on his stomach and arms(mentioned above)

His nose can bend (and it goes limp when he's sad/j)

His tongue is long af and is striped

Now that i mentioned stripes he has some on his arms

Used to wear his hair in a low ponytail,but after some time he just stopped caring about his hair..and himself in general

Okay this one involves a bit of oc x canon but hear me out, he was very lanky and skinny,but after meeting Claws he got a bit thicker and more muscular

Small matching tattoo with Claws!!

(For those who find this post before any of my other posts Claws is my creepypasta oc-)

I'll add more pictures of my design for him but i don't have much yet--

Aaaand I can't add any backstory related stuff cuz haven't really changed anything yet-

But i'll edit this post if anything else comes to mind!!

[faceofpoe]

My CX-2/CX-Tech contemplation ahead of 3.12 & beyond:

(i.e. fuck it, as others' hopes dwindle as we count down to the finale, Poe is doubling down)

(i.e. enjoy myriad ramblings that are somewhere between 'this is how I'd do it' and the perils of watching with confirmation bias/Winter Soldier-lover glasses on LOL)

the tl;dr is: ignoring things like "domicile" and whatnot - compare CX-2's behavior and attitude and ruthlessness at various stages: 1) upon arrival on Teth 2) after getting knocked into the wall and buried under all the rocks 3) the escalating rage while fighting Crosshair culminating in the nearly drowning him/possibly pausing/getting stunned and falling and 4) getting to and while on Pabu.

I think it's really interesting how the same operative who went "rogue" (twice), who recklessly endangered his target by shooting down her ship and firing chaotically into the group she was with, is so precise and controlled on Pabu.

I think it's really interesting how Scorch tells him to "eliminate" the others if they get in the way and the operative who killed most of Rex's cell on Teth conveniently manages to "neutralize" 2/3 of them without killing them (creative but "technical" interpretation of orders?). Somewhat notably perhaps, his orders upon activation to Teth are to "neutralize" the compromised operative, the intent to kill him before he can talk is not ambiguous. Cannot imagine he's under any delusions that Hunter & Wrecker are definitively dead at the time he reports them "neutralized."

I think it's really interesting how he places the final explosive on the Marauder right on the wing by the ramp where it might be noticed when he surely just needed to blow the engine. I think it's interesting that we've seen what a precise shot can do to ground a ship but the operative chooses instead to loudly announce what's coming.

I think it's really interesting how there were presumably three potential targets when the gunship was compromised - the pilot, the ship itself, and Hunter - and the operative went for what had to be the trickiest shot (through the window!) that took out his own guy and left Hunter alone in the water to make his way back to shore.

I think it's really interesting how he gets tunnel-vision feral on Crosshair in Extraction, that shit got personal, and doesn't react to having him right in his sights in Point of No Return. (I also think it's interesting that he's got some sort of facial recognition thing going on in ep11 but I don't know what to make of that). I think it's interesting that the thing that dooms them to losing Omega - being separated, where no one has any backup - is also the thing that saves the boys from going down in a final desperate stand to protect her and saves Pabu from being caught in the crossfire.

I think it's interesting that aside from the docks, we don't see Pabu meet the fate we all feared and he doesn't give the go-ahead to light it up until he's maneuvered them into a position where surrender is the only choice Omega will see left to her.

(if we find out in 3.12 that the stormtroopers razed Pabu before departing um... ignore this point/possibly this whole manifesto? lol)

I think it's interesting that the operative had no update for Hemlock until Hemlock called with his impatient/Disappointed-in-you voice and then had enough of an update to get him off his back. (also I really wish we had any gauge of the time lapse between any of these episodes) (Am curious about the allusion to Cid and "pulling" intel though that's dark implications lol; but makes for a curious juxtaposition against the careful way he approaches/avoids Phee on screen; which makes for a curious juxtaposition against the gives-no-fucks about collateral damage on Teth).

I think it's interesting that episode 3 is called Shadows of Tantiss and it's the first time (I think?) we see one of, as Rex&co call them, the "shadows" on Tantiss even though it's almost a parallel shot to the two glimpses Omega gets of Crosshair in the corridors during ep1. We're getting a very slow drawn-out reveal on the program, from the glimpses of Crosshair & co in ep1 to the shadow in ep 3 to the ruthlessness of the program in 6&7 to finally getting a glimpse of the lab in 10. What happens to CX-2 after he delivers Omega?

The ep titles this season are clever. The Return - to Pabu, to Barton IV, to the squad. Harbinger - hints of the mystery surrounding Omega, hints to what's coming for Pabu. Identity Crisis - Emerie but also the crisis of being identified as Force-sensitive.

Anyway, I think how you pull off a CX-Tech plot this late in the game is that every episode he's in (or whatever shadow we see in 3.3), the title is also about him. Infiltration makes sense; but Extraction... what is that pause, as Crosshair is about to drown?

What if this below is the extraction? From the river, from the prison his mind has been locked in? (shoutout once more to the (maybe twitter?) post I can not find (sorry!) comparing his slumping over on the river bank to the way Crosshair collapses after ordering the engines turned off on Bracca/probably the beginnings of the end for the chip)

The way he works with the reinforcements on Pabu vs the way he did not on Teth, at all - I think something started going haywire after the quick succession of 1) the explosion 2) getting thrown against the wall and 3) getting buried under the rocks. He then gets a tiny bit blown up again by Crosshair in the stairway, and then tumbles off a smaller waterfall before we see the absolute feral rage at Crosshair and "you had your chance/chose the wrong side."

All of this to say -

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is that he doesn't need freed from his conditioning anymore, he's already broken all or mostly free after all the getting blown up and being stunned and tumbling down a giant waterfall and almost drowning his brother; he just needs freed from Hemlock and his bio trackers and surveillance and whatever the hell else is keeping him trapped.

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is that he's now playing a game against himself, both working for Hemlock and figuring out how to take down Tantiss. (Tragic consideration here: operative can't bring a tracker back in Omega's pocket, but knowing/anticipating Crosshair, potentially was expecting/counting on a tracker making it onto the ship) (Though this hypothetical setback also sets up the crucial role we might now expect Emerie to fill in somehow enabling a rescue effort)

The way you pull off CX-Tech this late in the game is by building towards what's actually a sort of mirror of the buildup to Return to Kamino - you follow orders and capture the piece that will bring the cavalry to the rescue - of the clones and the children, not just Omega.

And then you make an epic trick shot and take off the mask and fuck up Hemlock's whole day. (Poor dude just wanted to be made Science Minister)

"Why have I been activated" remains such a curious introduction of this guy. Made all the more curious by Hemlock lamenting that he's got no other operatives ready to deploy. Maybe... this one wasn't quite fully cooked yet either.

(Side conspiracy theory: Crosshair knows it's him but thinks he's past saving.)

[duckapus]

So in the Self-Help Hotline AU I'm starting with just seven Ashes, eight when you include the central Ash who's just starting out. I'll probably add a few at certain milestones (definitely when he goes to a new region (including the Orange Islands that totally counts) possibly after movies and similar Big Legendary-Related Disasters but I'm undecided there). Arceus gave them all nicknames because otherwise it'd start with the chat filled with nothing but "Ash Ketchum" and it'd be impossible to tell who's talking.

Mini-Me: The central Ash who just got a Pikachu who hates him but is technically giving him a chance (you really think he couldn't have just ran away whenever, even during the fishing line bit?) and left Palette Town on the Pokemon Journey of a lifetime. An arrogant, overconfident little dumbass elementary-schooler with a heart of gold who constantly switches between having an ego nearly as big as Gary's and having no self-esteem whatsoever with no in-between.

O.G.A. / TheLlamasErrandBoy: The Ash from the end of the main timeline (or at least a timeline so extremely close to it that it's functionally the main timeline), with all the character development and Trauma that entails. Arceus gave him Admin Privileges and Dipped after explaining what the chat was made for so he's allowed to change nicknames and immediately abuses that power to roast The Original One Itself.

QueenOfTheWorld: Ashley Ketchum. She had a few Realizations during the stuff in Celadon so she's transfem. Her Journey had the fewest differences from the Main Timeline of the six AU Ashes since being a girl didn't change that much about her life.

L.G.M.: The version from my Invader Ash AU. By now he's aware that his mission wasn't what he thought it was and is fine with being Earth's hero instead of its ruler. He's still morally a very dark grey and kind of crazy though. He is still an Irken and still loyal to the Empire (particularly Tallest Delia) after all.

Aaron Jr: an Ash from a world where the Aura Guardians never faded into obscurity and he received formal training from a young age. Insists that he doesn't count as a child soldier since he stumbled across disasters on his journey for Chosen One Reasons just like the other Ashes did rather than the Order deliberately sending him to solve those problems. Actually the fact that this literal child keeps ending up in so much danger despite their best efforts is one of the Order's biggest headaches. The fact that he's so good at dealing with it (and is one of the most powerful Guardians in decades) only eases their worries a little.

Spooky: A version of Ash who succumbed to the injuries and exhaustion he sustained during the Spearow chase and became a Misdreavus due to a hasty halfway-too-late resurrection attempt from Ho-Oh. He's currently a Mismagius, a master illusionist, the World Monarch just like most of the other Ashes, and has long since come to terms with his death and species change. He does still have a vengeful hatred (and slight fear) of the Spearow line, but can you really blame him?

MyJobIsBeach: An Ash who stayed in Alola to help fully establish the League after becoming the Champion. He did technically go through the plot of Journeys but instead of being a research assistant he just kept running into Goh and Chloe while working his way through the World Coronation Series. He is still friends with them but not quite as close as in most timelines.

DoTheMario!: An Ash who's somewhat more familiar with the Multiverse than the others because his world is permanently linked with a version of the Mushroom Kingdom following a recent adventure. As in, he just finished dealing with the related Big Disaster and stabilizing the connection (since for Complicated Space-Time-Continuum-Could-Get-Torn-Apart reasons they couldn't sever the connection) a couple weeks before the chat got made. Since the point of divergence was so recent (and post-series) he's the second closest to the Main Timeline out of the starting lineup after Ashley.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

On a Technicality Part 2

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: implied/referenced abuse, starvation, touch-starvation

Pairings: intrulogical

Word Count: 3244

"A sacrifice for you," the zealot says quickly, trying to appeal to the demon's focus, "a token of our appreciation and worship."

The demon's head tilts. Remus looks up at them, pain and blood loss working in tandem to make it a struggle to even keep his eyes open, his vision growing fuzzier again. The demon's fingers twitch.

"O Great and Powerful—"

"Are these people bothering you, my dear?

***

Remus is having a wonderful dream.

The barn is warm, for once, like he's been able to sneak up to the rafters after the sun's been out all day, and he gets to lie on the bare boards and soak it in like some big, plump housecat. There's a light gust of air blowing, which means that the smell doesn't stick to his skin and linger. Instead, it just smells very faintly of grass and woodsmoke. Honestly, quite pleasant, all things considered. And his clothes feel like actual clothes for once! Not like the hay wraps and potato sacks he has to fashion his normal stuff out of, these feel like actual clothes clothes, like fabric that won't tear on the first sharp piece of metal he scrapes by.

He shifts a little, trying to nuzzle his face into the sunlit patch, and the sunlight rumbles back. That's a bit weird, sunlight normally doesn't make noise, but who is Remus to judge? He makes all sorts of noises that he isn't 'supposed' to make, and that doesn't stop him, so that's cool. The sunlight seems to approve of his thought process and another wave of warmth passes through his hair. So maybe the sun has hands too. That's also cool.

Would the moon have hands too?

The dream shifts; the sun sets but not unhappily, the sky turning pink, then orange, then red, then down to a soft and rich blue. The moon comes out—Remus likes the moon. Sometimes. Most of the time it's nice, because then he can see what he's doing when he goes to look for food and shelter. But sometimes when—

Clattering. Yelling. The burn of torches. Fear grips his chest with iron hands and—

Shh, the moon whispers, cool touch gliding gently down his spine—so the moon has hands too? Awesome—and the mob fades into mist. None of that, now, little one.

The moon is nice. Most of the time. Remus likes the moon.

I'm sure it likes you too.

Yeah—wait, what? Why is the moon talking about itself in third person?

The moon rumbles again, like the sun did, and ruffles his hair. I'm not the moon, little one, as flattering as the comparison may be.

Remus furrows his brow, curling up a little more, trying to shift into the warmth again. The warmth is more solid this time and he can't quite move into it—oh, but it shifts a little and it wraps around him, that's nice. He's still confused but at least he's warmer now. There's another rumble, another quiet thing that Remus can still feel in his cheek where it's pressed against the boards, though now that he thinks of it, these boards don't feel very much like boards. They're…softer, somehow. There aren't any gaps for the freezing wind to come through when the night is at its peak.

"I'm not boards either." The hands—or one of them at least, a hand settles at the base of his skull, smoothing a thumb over the place where his neck meets his ear. "Shh, you're alright. Just wake up slowly, you're still likely to be exhausted. You haven't slept for that long."

He mumbles. An ache suddenly reaches his chest, sinking through his ribs, his spine, right down to the ends of his fingers and down his legs. Like he's had to swim across the river to get away from the dogs, and then swim back in the same night because it's dangerous to spend so much time in the forest after dark. But he hadn't gone swimming yesterday, at least he doesn't think so, so what's—

Oh.

Oh, right.

The zealots. The summoning circle. The demon.

So that probably means that the hands and rumbling that he felt weren't the sun and the moon—why the fuck would he think that?—but were actually…

"Shh, shh," he hears, murmured tenderly into his ears as the hand at the back of his head cards through his hair, "you're alright, little one. Don't move so much, your body's still bound to be exhausted from all that happened."

But he's awake now. And being awake means that he can't ignore the fact that he's trying to snuggle up to a fucking demon.

Remus takes a deep breath and slowly, slowly tries to pull away from the demon's hold. The hand on the back of his neck flexes and for a moment, his heart nearly stops out of desperation, but then it gentles and he sits up, wincing at the tug in his muscles. He blinks a few times to shake the sleep from his eyes, only to frown when he sees a stone floor instead of a wooden one. Did—they didn't leave the abandoned building? It's still nighttime? How long has he been asleep?

"Remus?"

He turns on instinct and electric blue eyes meet his. He swallows despite himself.

"There you are," the demon murmurs—Logan, Logan, that's right, his name was Logan— "are you doing well, dear?"

"I, uh—I'm—"

Logan's brow furrows in concern. "Is there something wrong with your throat? Are you in pain?"

Soft fingers brush against the front of his neck and he flinches on instinct, only for the arm still around his back to tighten just enough to keep him from falling. They do it again, still as light as anything, and Logan hums.

"I can't feel anything," he says softly, "did you strain it yesterday? I heard you scream as I was summoned, or perhaps from the crying?"

If it were asked in anything other than this painfully soft voice, Remus might have been offended or chastened by it. Instead, all he feels is a strange feeling in his gut that he tries to swallow away. "No. 'M fine."

"That's a relief. You still seem to be sore, though…the combination of the magic and the injuries are still taking time to work themselves out, I believe." His hand rubs at Remus's shoulder, right over where the knife had plunged into him. "Does this hurt at all?"

The tingling-burning sensation of being touched is back, but other than that, no. He shakes his head. Logan smiles and adjusts his grip—he's still in his lap. He's still in the demon's fucking lap, what the fuck, what the fuck—

"Hey, hey, it's alright, little one, I'm just shifting so you can lean against the wall if you'd like." The hand cupping the back of his head tilts him back until it gently bumps against something solid. Logan shifts his grip to his hips, and now he's balancing in the demon's lap, leaned back against the wall with his hands idly stroking his hips and sides. Sure. This is his fucking life right now. "Is that comfortable?"

"Mhm."

The shift from being pressed up against a warm demon to the cold air makes him shiver, though, and he wraps his arms around himself. Logan notices with a chuckle.

"And yet you've immediately covered a vulnerable part of yourself."

"It's cold," he mumbles, trying not to sound like a petulant child and failing. Logan chuckles again, hands sliding under Remus's arms to press against his tummy. "Wha—oh."

"Is that better?"

"You're so warm."

"I'm afraid I can ascribe only part of that to being a demon," he says, "the rest of it…"

"Touch-starved," Remus mumbles, "right."

"Don't look so despondent, it's hardly through fault of your own." When Remus is quiet for a moment too long, he tilts his head. "Is it?"

"I mean…sort of?"

"Have you sworn off touching other mortals?"

"What? No."

"Have you implemented some sort of system whereby anyone who lays hand on you shall suffer poor harvests for the next three years?" Remus stares at him. "Or do you carry some curse that would pass gruesome boils onto whomever made direct contact with your skin?"

"Those seem like they're really specific examples."

Logan shrugs. "Well?"

"No, I haven't done any of those things. Or—had them done to me."

"Then how could you be responsible for your own touch starvation?" The hands on his stomach are really, really fucking warm. "Don't apologize for needing something that you have been deprived of."

"Demons aren't supposed to be this tender," Remus blurts out.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The one thing he's fucking not supposed to do is piss off the only person that's been kind to him for as long as he can fucking remember. But oh, no, Remus is not allowed to have nice things, he has to open his big fucking mouth and ruin them. Maybe he really is cursed, that he can't think before he speaks for two fucking seconds, but it's not his fault, it's not, he just thinks of them and then he says them because everyone always talks about how important it is to ask that things make sense and to say what he's feeling but not him, oh, no, not him, not Remus—

"Oh, little one," he hears faintly, and then the hands on his stomach are pressing gently to help him slow his breathing, "shh, calm down, now, it's alright. I'm not offended."

"You're—you're not?"

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. "I suppose I'm not acting as the rumors about my kind would have you believe, it's no pain to have you ask about it. You don't have to fret so much. You're far too sweet."

Sweet? Sweet? Remus isn't sweet. Remus is a pest, pests aren't sweet. When he voices that thought too, Logan frowns, and his fingers flex ever so slightly.

Remus squeaks.

Confusion ripples across Logan's expression before a slow smile spreads across his face. He does it again, just a little, and it sends a jolt through Remus's tummy. He chuckles.

"Ticklish?"

Remus doesn't say a fucking word. Logan spreads his fingers and does it again and Remus squirms—

"I think that's a 'yes,' little one."

"Don't!" Remus squeaks when his hands start to move again, trying to move away from this weird feeling that is too warm and too weird and it's making his stomach do all sorts of weird flips and Logan chuckles again. "Don't do that, it feels—it feels weird."

Logan's smile fades. "Have you never been tickled before?"

Remus shakes his head and Logan hums, hands moving to his sides just to hold him.

"Another time, perhaps."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'another time?'"

"I meant what I said, you know," Logan remarks, the smile returning, "you're very interesting, little one. Do you really expect me to just leave you be? When my curiosity has been piqued?"

He shifts again under the demon's watchful eye. He's not…he's not interesting. He's a pest. He's the thing the villagers chase off. He's the monster parents warn their kids about becoming. He's the thing the guards train their dogs to chase. There's nothing interesting about that.

When he says as much to Logan, though, the demon's expression darkens and his electric blue eyes almost crackle as he shifts. Some of his body turns back into that smoke Remus remembers from the ritual and despite himself, he grows smaller. That seems to tip whatever scales back in his favor, though, as Logan takes a deep breath and resolidifies.

"Perhaps I was right in my initial assessment, then," he says lowly, "that this place is plagued by those with small minds who would rather fret about themselves than endeavor to learn something for once in their pathetic lives."

The sheer derision dripping from each word isn't doing much to calm Remus down.

"And you, little one," he continues, voice deepening with something that could almost be wonder, except he's talking about Remus, and nothing about Remus is wonderful, "are fascinating. You speak so freely, and you don't have the shame that most mortals carry with their bodies, and there is so much you have yet to learn and you don't seem afraid of it…"

His smile grows and Remus swears he has a few too many teeth.

"How could I not be intrigued? How could I not be expected to want to keep you?"

"Keep me? What do you mean, keep me?"

"Precisely that. Or did you think the traditional deal for a mortal soul was simply a trifle?" When Remus can't muster the words to respond, he leans closer, bringing Remus up to meet him like he weighs nothing. "Demons are meant to be creatures of temptation as well, are we not? Can I not tempt you into letting me keep you, little one? Away from this place where they would hurt you, hunt you, could I not persuade you to let me bring you somewhere you would be treasured?"

"What—" it's hard to think with electric blue eyes on his— "what would you get out of it?"

"Aside from the pleasure of your company?" He tilts his head. "I've told you, Remus, there is so much that is interesting about you. Do you not wish to study that which you find interesting?"

A demon is telling me he wants to put me in a glass jar and study me, basically. This is fine. Is this fine? What the fuck is happening?

His hesitation must come off as disbelief—which is only partly true, the rest of him is trying to wrap his head around the fact that this is happening, still—because Logan hums and switches to holding him up with just one arm, which…is another thing he has to get over now, thanks.

"Do you not believe me still?" Before Remus can say anything, he's already opening his mouth to swipe his finger across—are those fangs? "Here, allow me…"

Remus's eyes widen as blood—it has to be blood, but then why is it black?—wells up from the cut on Logan's finger. He draws something on the floor next to them and the blood turns gold, shining in the shape of a sigil before becoming part of the stone itself. Logan smooths his thumb over the cut and it heals.

"What's that?"

"A basic protection sigil. None may enter this building without your consent now."

"…why?"

"A show of good faith. If I intended to harm you, don't you believe I would have done so by now?" The hand comes up to cradle his cheek. "I don't mean you any harm, little one. Truly."

Remus swallows. "So what do you want?"

"At some point, you'll make me believe you like hearing me say it," he teases gently, "I want to keep you. Let me learn about you, fascinating thing that you are. And in return, I will keep you safe from those who could never hope to understand you."

Well, he sure wasn't fucking kidding about demons being creatures of temptation, because that's really, really fucking tempting. But that's just it_ there's no way there isn't a catch. Is he going to be split apart like some butterfly, pinned up to be examined? Is he going to be put in a cage? What's the catch?

"You are agreeing to be taken away by a demon," Logan says wryly when he asks as much, "most would view that as the catch."

"But you're being nice. You're—you're offering to save me, not hurt me."

"Does it not speak to your current situation, then, that you would view being taken by a demon as being saved?"

That's a good fucking point. He chews on his lip absentmindedly. Logan lets him think for another moment before he sighs, bringing him close to cuddle him again.

"You could say no," he says, as gentle as ever, "and I would…well, I wouldn't be happy, but I would accept it. And I would help you remake this building into somewhere you could be safe. That sigil will hold whether you're here or not."

"You—you would what?"

"You could stay here, if you wanted. We could make it into a proper house, if you didn't want to come with me. I could visit, we could talk, but you wouldn't have to agree to be kept."

"Wouldn't this be another cage?"

Logan frowns, but it's not an angry frown. No, he looks more…melancholy. "I would never keep you if you didn't want to be kept. You're not a prisoner, Remus, you can go if you want to."

"I can?"

Another pause, and then Logan starts to pull away. As soon as his hands leave him, the cold rushes back and a mortifying noise leaves his throat. Logan hushes him but he doesn't come back, instead fully moving away and standing up. He offers a hand and Remus would be embarrassed at how fast he scrambles for it, only for Logan to catch him and steady him as he shoots to his feet.

"Easy," he murmurs, "don't rush…you're still weak from everything that happened."

Remus clings to him as he tries to get his feet under him, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and chest, and definitely ignoring the tingling warmth in his hands. Logan holds him for another moment, just to make sure he's steady, before he moves away again. Remus watches, rooted to the floor, as Logan retreats all the way to the other side of the room.

Empty stone stretches endlessly between them.

"You can go," Logan says, voice still as soft as if it were still being whispered into his ears, "I won't stop you. This isn't a test, Remus, if you truly wish to go, you can."

Remus turns to look at the door. On instinct, his body moves, walking silently across the stone to step through it cautiously. He hesitates for just a second, wondering if it was all some grand farce and pain would sear through him at any moment, but it doesn't. Instead, his foot settles in the dew-damp grass and a shaking breath leaves him.

The moon is out. The world is bathed in silvery light. He can see the silhouette of the other buildings a ways away, even the roof of the barn.

He could go. He could go back to the barn and curl up in the rafters. He could live another day, when he was so sure he was going to bleed out on some stone floor. It's cold, he realizes, with a bone-weary certainty that he's only now able to name. It's cold. It's so, so cold.

Logan is still standing there as he looks over his shoulder. Slowly, he opens his arms.

Remus all but throws himself at the demon as he races back inside, letting Logan catch him with barely a grunt, lips pressed against his ear as warm warm warm arms wrap around him once more.

"Keep me," he says in a rush, "keep me, please, please, keep me, I'll do whatever you want, please—"

"Hush, now, little one, you don't have to beg." Logan's hand runs up and down his back. "Shh, calm down, now, I'm right here, I have you."

Remus manages to draw a shuddering breath before Logan's holding the back of his skull and gently bidding him to look up. He does, meeting those electric blue eyes once more as Logan smiles.

"I will keep you, little one," he says, voice somehow sounding like it's coming from inside his head, "and in return, you will let me learn you. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes. Yes, that sounds fair, that sounds great, yes, yes."

Logan smiles with too many teeth and his eyes glow, and for the first time in so long he can't even fucking remember, Remus feels safe.

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[knightyoomyoui]

Jeongyeon x M/F Reader - "Won't Go Home Without You"

HAPPY 1000 FOLLOWERS TO ME ON TUMBLR!!!

As my way of saying thank you and sending back the love and support that you guys have given me to my works and to me as an author, here's a DOUBLE UPDATE, one for a Set 6 main entry and one special one-shot both featuring Jeongyeon!

Hope yall enjoy reading these two updates of mine! Gladly, I was able to finish both of these today because I don't have classes and it's been over a year since I made a double update at the same time. Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

Twiceland has never been at rest since the incident, which has imprisoned the inhabitants inside their own nightmare. Every day, the people go about their lives feeling empty-handed and uneasy about potential threats that may arise at any time.

However, yesterday grew much worse, making it difficult for individuals to focus on what they do as they were all gathered about in their own homes, with the designated spectators keeping an eye out for the arrival of a group of people to whom they owe their lives the most.

They are the annihilators of their land, swore to protect and avenge those who are fallen and victimized, for the sake of the people and the nation's freedom. They are composed of eight warriors, all of them are female. Technically, they were nine of them, what happened to one of them will get to that later.

While the watcher is sipping tea and rolling the butt of his gun on the sandy ground, he saw some figures approaching from the shadows on the distance. He patted his fellow watcher who is sleeping and alerted him, pointing at those figures.

All of the watchers began directing their firearms at it until the familiar count of people made them slowly decrease in relief.

However, that doesn't mean that it was now assured that it was the annihilators who just arrived, because from the look of one of them, something happened really badly.

"QUICK! GET HER SOME AID!" The oldest of the group, Nayeon shouted at the officials as they all saw one of the members unconscious and being carried by her fellow member.

They all ran immediately to search for the rescuers. Placing down their comrade's damaged condition on the blanket, they all let out a huge sigh of defeat, exhausted from the life-threatening battle they just participated earlier.

"I can't believe it." Jihyo spoke first, shaking her head in disappointment. "She really did it. I never thought there would come a day where she would turn her back and forget everything we've done together for this land."

"From the look of her face earlier, it's not the Jeongyeon I've known before." Sana said, with a fear and shiver in her voice as she remember her contact with Jeongyeon during the battle. "It's completely different. Oozing with cruel and evil motivations is what fills her up inside now."

"I'm not gonna be shocked." Tzuyu reacted seriously. "Just look what she has done to Dahyun-unnie. Do you all really think that she's still the friend we knew? She would never dare to inflict pain to one of us in case it's needed for trainings. That, right there... is her pure intention."

"So what does this mean now?" Mina inquired. "Are we really going to view her now as our enemy? We're just gonna let her add more problems to us? Is it really over now to-"

"No." Chaeyoung stood up, staring at Mina then glares around at the rest of the members. "We're not going to let our eyes peeled off on unnie. Our target is still on the downfall of the Emperor. She's just a distraction."

"So what do you have in mind, Chaeng?" Momo asked, curious at what the younger is insisting for them to do.

"We continue on taking down the Dark Side while at the same time, we also try to distract Jeongyeon to not get involved too much at this chaos."

"How?" They all questioned.

Chaeyoung paused and lowered her head before exhaling and glanced at them with determination. "We have to find him. He's the only one who can manage her."

"But Chaeng, we don't even know where he's at now?"

"Only some of you, but not me." Chaeyoung stated. "I think it's time that get some back-up into this ongoing mess, but first we're going to prepare a lot of convincing."

-------------------

Miles away from their town, a certain person is training some children who are aspiring to be the future warriors of the sacred land. The kids were following every fighting moves and listens to his/her masterful advices he/she provides on the lessons in order to provide assistance for them.

During their break, the tutor was reorganizing the weapons they used when a villager called your name before barging in to the tent.

"What is it?" You asked without even looking at the guard.

"Master YN, I've come to inform you there are outsiders from another town who wants to see you."

"How many of them?"

"Four, sir."

"And what do they want?"

"I'm afraid they didn't mentioned-"

"Then I decline. Please, get them out of here." YN glanced at the guard, rotating your eyes on you while the latter saw cautious and well-aware you are of any possible danger these strangers might brought to you, but more importantly, to your people.

"But sir, one of them said you all know each other. And they have something very important to tell you."

You gave the guard another glance again, sensing that he's telling you that everything is going be fine with his communication at these mysterious people.

With all trust, you gave up and sighed. "Fine. I'll be out for a while."

You stepped outside and waved the tent's canvas to let it open. You were shown to be correct when bright lights suddenly blinded you for a brief period of time before gradually disappearing and making everything clearly visible once again. You were familiar with the individuals in front of you, and as was always the case, you felt compassion and never dread for them.

"Chaeyoung." You muttered as you stared at the smallest girl out of the four before looking also at the rest of them. "Girls? W-what are you doing here?"

"Long time no see, YN." Chaeyoung greeted him. "And we're here to talk with you in urgent."

------------------------------------ Many different types of spacecrafts were seen flying around outside the Star Destroyer, a moon-sized space station floating in space which is used as the ultimate destruction weapon of the Galactic Empire, a mighty military force influenced by the Dark Side of the Force.

This serves as the Imperial officers' headquarters as well, where they formulate plans and carry out the commands of the formidable and evil Emperor Jeonghan, the commander of the Knights of Doom, whose only goal is to subjugate new territories and destroy their enemies, the Jedi. Yoo Jeongyeon, the high ranked leader of the Sith and called as the Dark Lord of the Knights Of Doom , was inside the station polishing her bloodstained helmet before slamming it on an ovular tray filled with the ashes of the Empire's fallen victims. She recalled what she done to Dahyun as she looked in the mirror, realizing that she was the one who had injured her friend and former group member. She just followed through on her obligations, knowing that by doing so, she would gain the Dark Lord's complete trust and be granted her proper position within the organization. But when the soldiers told her that Emperor wanted to meet her, an anxious expression came to her face. The troops marched beside her as she went. As she continues walking in the path that would bring her and the Emperor of darkness to the same location, her heart begins to race.

They reached the door, the troopers escorted on opening it, and Jeongyeon was let to enter the room first. There, he saw Jeonghan eating at the head of the table.

"Come on, have a seat and eat." He invites Jeongyeon who kept on watching him just busily devouring his food.

She followed and eat, the helpers assisted her to eat comfortably before they left her alone with him.

It went for some few minutes of silence as they gave more time to satisfy their hunger before Jeonghan initiated the first move to start their conversation.

"The status report has reached to me that you were this close on your mission." Jeonghan said, gesturing the size of her chances of accomplishing that given mission she had to finish in success.

"But I'm afraid it didn't go well as expected."

Jeongyeon shuts her eyes and curses herself in disappointment and frustration. "I-it was them. They are becoming more aware now of our next move."

"I know." Jeonghan said. "And we both know it doesn't have to go that way further. We have to compromise a plan that they cannot avoid. It's their fate to die in defeat with our own hands, and soon we will rule the entire galaxy... together." He glared at Jeongyeon, she felt his sincerity and hoped that the day of that to happen will come by sooner.

"But I'm not here to express my letdown or disgrace what you've done. In fact, I should be rather... impressed."

Jeongyeon became confused, furrowing her eyebrows. "F-for what, sire?"

"You managed to disable one of them, am I right?" Jeonghan said, referring to what she did to Dahyun. Jeongyeon became guilty, her face became interestingly fell as she got reminded again of what she did to her former friend.

"Y-yes. She tried to defend a family against us. She got on my nerves and... I-"

"You don't need to explain, I know. Pests can be a lot irritating." Jeonghan calmed her down. "I congratulate you for not holding back on your desire, my Lord. You remained dedicated on the plan, on your mission. It didn't matter to me if you didn't completely made the mission done, atleast to me... learning that they suffer on our wrath and prove who is the bigger threat here is enough to me."

Jeonghan stands and walks towards Jeongyeon who is still unmoved and staring at her plate. He held her shoulders and gently squeezed it. "You can feel it now, don't you? Let it all in and control you, Jeongyeon. Soon, you'll finally become one of us and then... like I told you, everybody will respect and treat you highly unlike you've never seen before, and I will be there for you to provide all of it. Embrace the dark side."

He gave her few playful pats on her cheek before walking away, leaving Jeongyeon who shivered in her touch, speechless as she kept her composure despite being uncomfortable, resulting to develop a sudden longing sensation from somebody she knows who could do much better than what Jeongyeon is trying to make her prove.

---------------------------

"So, what do you want to talk about?" YN said after giving them food and water as his treat to his surprise guests.

All four of them looked at each other before Jihyo, the leader of the annihilators nodded at them in signal. "It's about Jeongyeon, YN."

You stared at her and escaped a bitter smile at the mention of the name before it vanished and went back on being serious. "What's with her?"

"She's now being controlled by the Dark Side, YN; and she is now following orders under Dark Lord Jeonghan." Nayeon reported. "She even hurt Dahyun during the battle."

"Wait what do you mean hurt?" It grabbed your attention. "How is Dahyun doing?"

"Still recovering from her wounds, but that huge slash that Jeongyeon did on the skin of her arm with her lightsaber might put her out of action once the troopers arrives again and try to destroy the town."

"YN, Twiceland is next. The previous town was badly damaged by them few days ago, and I suppose they are now coming for us in return for ruining their goal." Chaeyoung said to you.

YN wasn't shocked to hear any of this being caused by Jeongyeon, but rather you are heavily disheartened and dismayed at what she has become. You knew it already that her betrayal would go this way, but still you couldn't help yourself to put all the blame to yourself for what happened to her.

"You know, until now, I still feel like I didn't do better enough to be her friend, which I know all of us are definitely feeling the same but... the effect of that on me was worse because... you know what I mean, girls. She meant more to me already. I could've been there to observe closer and prevent Jeongyeon get abducted and be manipulated by the scheme of the Dark Side." You expressed your own fault at the girls as you remember how she started to slowly change whenever you talk to her, the lovely smile, her adorable laughs, the color in her mood were all gone. She became even more secretive on her own worries to you. You could've just done better for her, from what you believe in.

"We understand, YN. We all know we wanted to change and hope that all of these should've never occured but what else can we do? It's now here, and all we have to do is to face the consequences." Jihyo said. "But... this doesn't mean that time is already out for us to do something that will grant us... redemption."

"YN, we all know here that you are the one who is most capable of protecting and saving Jeongyeon." Chaeyoung said. "We have this feeling that even if she thinks that she already has found the place where she belongs, there's something that-"

"Icks us inside? Yeah, I've been having that, every single day." You admitted. "Last night, I woke up from a nightmare. She appeared in my dreams and it was very fast, but all I could witness is that she's in trouble."

"So you have it on your own too. Don't you think that... this could be a sign? That Jeongyeon isn't really going to receive the better treatment she seeks for?" Nayeon suggested. "And this is a right timing for us to come here and request if you could... join us for one last time?

You looked at all of them who has their eyes now glued on you as they wait on your response. "YN, we all want to do better, and this is this time that we make a move for it." Chaeyoung said. "This is not just an ordinary battle, but a bloody, horrific war once they step foot into our land. Everybody involved will not be assured of safety BUT, it's better to die trying than let them achieve control over the entire galaxy and watch millions of innocent people suffer in their reign."

"Jeongyeon is THE key here, YN. If they think they just took the biggest advantage for our downfall, they have to be proven wrong, and we cannot do that without you, YN."

Chaeyoung pleaded at you and gave you the exact encouragement you need in order to participate in this plan.

Your mind started to get occupied again with the thoughts of Jeongyeon as you watched the kids and the people just doing their business outside the camp from the plastic window.

"The real her is still there within her. I know it, I can feel it, and I couldn't wait anymore to see again that Jeongyeon that I once loved."

You turned at them which they are now standing on their seat.

"I'm going with you all. I will save her and bring her back to where she belongs. To us."

-------------------------

The following days, the group with YN now on their side tries to trespass into the Dark Side's base and steal the chip that contains the information and destroy the power core that activates the entire planet.

They went to proceed to the mission, but due to Sana's clumsiness of getting bumped with a trooper, they were accidentally discovered by them. YN was alone on doing his task when he heard the siren.

They got separated from each other and tries to find a way escape. YN ran as he tries to figure out the paths until you unexpectedly crossed paths with none other than Jeongyeon, now in his Dark Lord appearance. She is now wearing an all black hood with a tight fitted suit that accentuated her perfectly sculpted figure, her hair all sprayed down and her menacing helmet that hides her beautiful face.

Startled and tension arise between them as they finally met once again after a long time, YN stopped on her tracks as he finally comes face to face with the ghost of his past.

"J-Jeongyeon?"

"YN/LN. You are under arrest for trespassing and committing a crime of stealing a confidential information. Stay where you are and don't make any move."

You just stared at this... unknown figure in confusion. She doesn't sound like entirely at all like her. This is a complete different being. It's like a new evil persona was put into her to disguise and enslave her in order to make her fall in line with them.

"Stop acting like you don't know me, Jeongyeon. I know you in there!" You shouted. "I'm not going to follow or be intimidated to any of your orders. I came here with a sole purpose and nothing will do to stop me. And that is to put the Empire down!"

"If that is what you came for, then you just made the biggest mistake for costing your life." Jeongyeon takes out her red lightsaber and wielded it.

"Snap out of it, Jeongyeon! Please, can we just talk and listen to me? You have to take a closer look at the bigger picture here. Don't you see what you're doing? This isn't the Jeongyeon that... that I know." You stammered at the last words. Behind the mask, Jeongyeon felt like her heart was tugged on it's string with your acknowledgement of witnessing her unwanted transformation.

"Don't try anything stubborn that might get us in the hard way here, YN." She tried not to listen. You sighed and shook your head. You released your blue lightsaber and wielded it.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jeong. Please. Don't make me do this."

Jeongyeon was certain of her decision, so she sprang and lunged at you, threatening to slam the lightsaber in your face, but you deflected her attack by protecting yourself. After that, you two clashed in a lightsaber combat in which she tried to strike and you just let her, being care to defend yourself. Since you are aware that you are unable to truly harm the lady you love the most, you were speaking the truth when you said that you didn't want to hurt her.

Jeongyeon uses her force but you countered it, forming your hands and clenching all your finger tips as you aimed it on her, making each of you to be tangled within each other's force field. A tug of war of your own powers, none of the sides wants to give up.

Both of you screamed in rage before the force field went stronger that results to the two of you getting flung away in the away, crashing to the metal bridge painfully. Just as when YN was about to stand up, you were surprised by the arrest of the troopers as they quickly grabbed your arms.

You tried to resist before your vision went dark.

------------------------------

As Emperor Jeonghan walks into the detention cell, he is pleased to discover YN still and handcuffed with high tech steel cuffs, having been brought in by Jeongyeon, who had captured you like a rat that had attempted to get into their territory. As this is going on, the group manages to escape and notifies the town to prepare for a fight. They are aware of the consequences now that awaits them as they were unable to recover the chip.

Back at the base, YN was brutally tortured by the troopers, hitting you with their space guns, turning you into a punching bag, and electrocuting you while you are hanging in the ceiling with your arms still tied.

It may not be seen in her face clearly because of her helmet, but Jeongyeon didn't lasted long to stand there, listen to your screams of despair and watch you get abused. She went outside of the room, halted in her steps, her breathing became ragged under the helmet as your shouts of desperation echoes in the background.

Jeongyeon on the other hand, was enjoying it and finds it hilarious to see the woman still have the soft spot for the man, encouraging him to do worst things possible for the man.

Hours later, YN was back in your consciousness and in your surprise, you find Jeongyeon treating all your wounds and bruises. This time, her helmet was off, and you can see her face again. She didn't changed at all. She may look like she became even more angsty and cold, but she was still gorgeous. In fact, she looks even more stunning than before, you never thought you would admire her a lot now with her new short black hairstyle.

"You're awake." She noticed before applying aid again on your bruise which made you hiss in pain. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You should've listen to me."

"I don't much care about it." You said. "They can torture me however they want, but my mind won't change. Soon, the empire will crumble and the Dark Side will end."

Jeongyeon smirked and mockingly pouted. "If you say so. Goodluck with that then. I'm telling you that it will hard."

"I know, but I'm here to try, and I'm not doing this only for the sake of Twiceland... but for you."

She looked at you, her face softened for a second before she switched back in her monotonous demeanor.

"I don't need your help, YN. I never asked for you anyway so just leave me alone."

"Jeongyeon, what has gotten to you?" You wondered. "That day. There's something wrong happened between you and the girls. I know because they mentioned to me about it, but they never got to expand the reason for me to understand it."

Jeongyeon stopped on what she's doing before she turned back and prepared the equipments. "Oh really? I thought they would make me sound like I'm the one who's being troublesome."

You squinted your eyes, suspicious of Jeongyeon's bitterness over the girls. "I don't really get what you're trying to say, Jeongyeon. But why? How can you do this to them?"

She slammed the kit on the table and sighed deeply, her anger starts to boil her blood but she tried to be calm, wanting to match your state. You were taken aback at her aggressiveness, and you just had to watch her take her time to control her emotions that you might've urged her to feel by revisiting the moment that led her departure and betrayal. "Fine, I did turned their backs on them. I didn't want to do it, but their constant mention of my disadvantages has what threw me into my breaking point."

She indicated that the actual cause of their altercation was a misunderstanding between her and Jihyo, the group leader, which made her feel disrespected and insulted, making her believe she was the weakest and least important member of the group. She was under a lot of stress and pressure at the moment trying to figure out how to meet their expectations. She had been feeling as like she didn't really belong in their group for a while until Jeonghan occurred to see her in a gathering talking about what had happened. As he learnt about Jeongyeon's situation, he offered her a help, promising that if she learns how is it like to stand in their side she would become more powerful and hold more purpose than she ever has in their group. She declined the offer at first, but then Jeonghan didn't gave up on her, still letting the offer stand. That thought had lingering around Jeongyeon's head for quite some time.

"Then that day arrived, when a battle emerged between the group and the Knights, I just suddenly snapped when Jihyo started to command me and...all I know after that was I threw her to the tree with my force field. I walked out with the group staring at me in utter confusion, letting them in grave danger as I joined the troopers." Jeongyeon continued as she stares at the wall, in terror as she lets the flashback run in her head. "I arrived at the base, Jeonghan welcomed me with open arms, and he started to do exactly what he promised for me, something that the group could never do to me."

"Yeah, and that is to manipulate and take you for granted." You glared at Jeongyeon who knitted her brows at your change in aura, twisting her words. "Whatever fight you two may had, I know they never intended to hurt your feelings and they just want the best for you."

"You don't know what you're talking about, YN." Jeongyeon said. "Don't sympathize for me."

"And why I shouldn't be? Jeongyeon, you're my friend and so as they."

"BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN I NEEDED YOU!" Jeongyeon yelled at you, her eyes watery and reddened, both her face and fists clenched in anger and heartbreak as she got recalled again of that another memory. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!"

You stared at her, confused from the blame that was put to you by Jeongyeon. You can see how it hurted her badly and knowing that this time, you are responsible for making her feel like that made you instantly owe a sincere apology to her.

"I was at my low when I am having trouble on improving myself, I didn't want to talk to any of them at first, and so I remember that I had you." Jeongyeon started to cry between her words. "I had you, YN and I felt fine at first that I know I still have someone to share my problems and seek comfort but... when I started to look for you, you weren't there.

Every day I waited for you, hoping that atleast I could be happy being with you just like you always do whenever we're together but... why, out of all times, you suddenly disappeared when I needed you the most?

And now you here again, trying to understand a problem of mine that I already buried and wanting to save me when I don't need it anymore? Tell me, what else do I need to have from you?"

You stayed silent, now completely aware of the pain you inflicted on her. It was never intentional to hurt such a pure woman like her, you wanted to explain but you believed that there's something more important that has to be done first."

"I'm sorry, Jeongyeon... for all of that." You muttered. "I know I couldn't fix what I broken, but... I don't want to waste my purpose of putting myself in this situation, with you."

You reached for her hand laying on the vacant space of the bed beside you, Jeongyeon teared up more on your touch, she wanted to admit that she missed it a lot, but what you did would still take some time for her to process. "I'm going to make things right, Jeongyeon. I may have not showed up at the time when you needed my back, but believe me when I say that I never gave up on you."

Jeongyeon stared at you and gently shake her head before she used her force field to make you fall asleep. She emotionally watches you in your peaceful slumber, while thinking twice about his proposition as she remembers all the memories she shared once with the girls, especially Jihyo.

In order to put an end to this once and for all, the annihilators prepare Twiceland for the Knights' arrival during the ultimate battle. When they arrived, Dark Lord Jeongyeon led the troops' charge as they watched the battle unfold, with Emperor Jeonghan keeping watch from his position. The troopers started shooting every peasant and combatant they came across. Additionally, they started using their lasers to demolish the structures until the annihilators started taking out the adversaries one by one. Additional troops march from the ship while others use their spacecraft to take the fight into the air. They started shooting at anybody below, without really caring who they hit in the process.

Their attacks stopped when strange set of lights aligned from the dim distance until they were all startled when one of it fired a destroyer spacecraft and exploded. An X wing then immediately appeared and flew towards the another, blasting it with a laser cannon.

The war was taken below and up above the sky. Emperor Jeonghan and Dark Lord Jeonghan were spooked at the arrival and unexpected alliance of the Rebels and the Annihilators to protect Twiceland.

"Send the scum here." Jeonghan instructs a trooper and went out of the base for a while before returning with his comrades, carrying the injured YN on his arms.

You were brought at the center, near the window where they forcefully had you watch the brutality and destruction that is being unleashed on Twiceland.

"No... w-what are you doing? Leave them a-alone!!!" You tried to scream despite of the pain and exhaustion you feel but then Emperor Jeonghan zapped you with his electricity.

"SILENCE!"

Even Jeongyeon couldn't deny that it stings her to see her beloved hometown and the people being put through hell by the Dark Side.

Jeonghan looks at Jeongyeon. "And now, for your final task, you must claim Twiceland, capture all the people, take those pieces of junk out of the sky and kill those worthless Rebels! With these, you can now fulfill your destiny of becoming the rightful Dark Lord not only by the Empire, but by the entire clan of the Sith." He proudly presented to her.

Hearing the biggest and most difficult task she has ever been given to that involves her hometown and her former friends that stood as her first family, Jeongyeon hesitated on that command.

"Jeongyeon, no don't listen to him. Please! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!" YN hurriedly pleads on her again as he recalls all the good things they have done for her.

Jeonghan fights back by striking him with electricity, attacking YN. "This is what you get for your lack of faith and vision that we have for the galaxy. Your convincing is the same as your powers, all have no match for the Dark Side!" He said before releasing another tingling shockwaves of electricity to YN, twitching intensely in pain.

"Remind you that we have a promise Jeongyeon, you said it yourself! The desire you have led you standing here with the power you wanted to possess, so why bother throw it away for a half-witted scum like him!"

The disarray of it all was beginning to aggravate and anger Jeongyeon. She then glanced at YN, whose clothes was now smoldering from the amount of electricity you had taken, and she instantly felt a sorrow in her heart. Memories flashed across her mind: when Jeongyeon and YN initially became friends, they vowed to stick by one another through hardship and to support one another through it. She knew you failed, but you are too irresistable for her, mainly brought by the feelings she has blossomed from your connection with her. A series of explosions rocked the town as multiple destroyer fleets fired lasers at anything below, destroying all that was left, including the structures and every beings scattered in fright and madness.

"YES... MORE! MOREEE! MOREEEEEE!!!!" Jeonghan's eyes sprung up in excitement, his face crunched creepy as he shouted and laughs in rage and sinister.

As he continues to harshly electrocute you until you get toasted alive, Jeongyeon walked away beside him as she has made up her decision, removes her helmet, threw it at the wall, grabs her lightsaber and slashes Jeongyeon's back, falling unconscious.

The Knights that were all standing around them in the room shocked at Jeongyeon's betrayal. They began cornering her and unleashed their blazing staff, in which she prepares her fighting stance and gripped her lightsaber tighter.

"Come on, you sons of bitches." Jeongyeon gestured at them to come at her and all of them did, in which she prevented them all by attacking them at once.

Jeongyeon shielded herself from a lightsaber smash before throwing the Knight away with a force through the midsection.

She went into a clash with the second Knight before catching his hand and twisted her lightsaber, yeeting his staff and cutting both of his hands effectively before snapping his head off with her force.

Jeongyeon felt a kick on her back as the third Knight surprises her with a blindside attack. The fourth Knight cooperated, about to slash her head off but she spun aside, the staff hit the floor instead.

She did a kip up, slashing the third Knight to his waist, cutting him in half before rotating the lightsaber backwards, stabbing the fourth Knight behind and pull lightsaber upwards as it slashes his torso open.

The fifth Knight threw his staff on Jeongyeon, she was aware but it was too late. It hit the handle and got thrown away from her hold. She collapsed on the floor and the Knight walks towards her, ready to kill her.

She was about to ran out of energy and get outnumbered before suddenly, the fifth Knight kneeled as YN went back up by grabbing Jeongyeon's lightsaber and stabbing his knee. Jeongyeon then force choked her until his neck snapped.

Jeongyeon slowly stands up and looked at you from above, she lends her hand and you looked at it before focusing on her face. There it is, the same old Jeongyeon that you once knew is finally back in control.

Without any further do, Jeongyeon immediately hugged you tightly and cried on your shoulder. You reciprocate her embrace and patted her back.

"I'm sorry, YN." She sniffed on her tears. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm glad you're back, Jeongyeon." You said with a smile on your face. A teardrop finally escaped in your eye.

You seperated her from your body and looked at her closely. You wiped off her tears and swayed away some strands of her hair. "You asked me what I want from you and I want to give you my answer fast."

"Hope is hard, I want you to believe it's still there. I know the damage has been done but there's always a time where you can start all over again and avoid repeating the same mistake twice. That's why I don't want you to keep on running because... it's harder to stay, Jeongyeon."

"I want to make you feel okay. I failed before but that didn't made me give up on you." You said as you said it to her from all of your heart. "Let me save and protect you again, and this time; I want to make sure that it will be the best thing I ever did. I love you, and please come back... because I won't go home without you."

Jeongyeon cupped both of your cheeks and pulled you closer to her, bringing you to a kiss that you once always imagining to share with her, and now it's here, with her turning it into a reality. It may have been done in a wrong time and wrong setting but, being with her will always going to be special.

"Then take me with you, I have no other plans to leave anymore."

They proceed to make their way escape to the planet as they set it into self destruct. You two encountered more troopers, in which both of you fought them all side by side. Jeongyeon was the one who push and pull them off while you are the one in charge of stabbing and slaying them through their deaths.

As the path were now cleared and continued to make your way out, you ached as you felt a burning sensation on your thigh.

"TRAITOR!!! WHO SAID BOTH OF YOU CAN LEAVE!"

It was then you found out that Emperor Jeonghan is stumbling on his feet, he just fired a lightning on the part you felt the sting. He slowly making his way towards them. Jeongyeon pushed him away with her force field.

"Jeong, listen to me. Go without me and help the group fight the troopers."

"What?!" Jeongyeon was astounded. "No, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you."

"Jeong, we're running out of time here! I'm injured, it will take much time for us to get out." You said to her. "I'll be here to take care of him."

"No, I'm not going to leave you here alone! But how about you?!"

You stared at Jeongyeon who is about to cry again, the panic and worry of your condition triggering her emotions.

"I'll do my best." You smiled. "Just please, save yourself for me. I came here for you,  right?"

Jeongyeon pressed her head against yours. "Damn it..." She hiccuped on her sobs, irritated that there's nothing they can do. She quickly kissed you again. "I'll be waiting for you out there, YN."

You nodded and she immediately ran towards the airbase where she can retrieve some destroyer fleet from there.

Now back on their feet, YN and Jeonghan stared at each other with deadly eyes. "Let's finish this."  The tension brought them opportunity to attack together, turning it into a brawl as the two beats the hell out of each other. Jeonghan threw the first blow, a ball of electricity about to bump on your face, but you dodged it and made a spin with a swing of your lightsaber.

Meanwhile, Nayeon was hiding behind a tree, struggling to face three troopers who are looking for her. She was about to build up her courage and whisper "May the force be with me" before she heard grunting and shrieking sounds.

All she know after that is that the troopers are down, and a familiar figure is standing between them.

Nayeon points her lightsaber in fear at her but the latter just smiled and lets out tears as she slowly walks towards the older member and her former friend.

Nayeon turns off her lightsaber and started to look back at her emotionally. "J-jeongyeon?"

She nodded and softly smiled before she hugged Nayeon, the two shared an emotional moment while the rest of the members watched them. Jihyo was the most relieved out of them all.

As she got reunited with the group she instantly became worried that YN isn't showing up yet as the planet slowly crumbles.

With half a minute remaining before the destruction, you finally killed Jeonghan by slashing his hand gripping on the rail, making her fall down to the energy core of the base. However the heavy injury you took unabled you to quickly escape the planet.

You looked at the timer and sat at the middle of a metal bridge. Pulling out the necklace you wanted to give to Jeongyeon after this, you wore it instead around your neck as you went back at the time where you first fell in love with Jeongyeon.

And when you saw her again, you could see the same tenderness in her face but this time it was evident that it was almost the same as what he's feeling. The same love that you've been keeping from her throughout these years.

He smiles in a bittersweet defeat as he accepts his fate.

"Jeongyeon, where are you going?!" Nayeon shouts as they saw Jeongyeon start to sprint away from them.

She continues to run ahead back to the planet but in a flash of a second, everything turns red and yellow as she was splashed away by a huge airwave, a loud explosion could be heard in the background.

--------------------------

A week later, Twiceland is slowly being repaired by the villagers. The group entertains the children while also serving and assisting the villagers on what they need. In addition, they celebrated the defeat of the Knights and the fall of the Dark Side, freeing the galaxy into the peace it deserves.

Jeongyeon who is now recovering from all the trauma, finally made amends with her friends and her hometown, and learned also that the cause of your short disappearance when she was looking for you was that you were sent to another planet to search for more materials through barter and tutor more children to fight. That explains why you have an idea on what she did to the group but never had the chance to learn the reason behind all of it.

She walks through the top of a hill to take a visit at YN's grave. Wearing a black dress to grieve, she sat down and traced her engraved name on the tombstone with her fingertips. She lets out a faint smile for that.

She viewed the heavenly sky and breathes out, preparing herself to engage in a talk with an imaginary YN, who might be peeking at her from the clouds above, a wide grin and delight in your heart to see her finally back to where she rightfully belongs.

"I know I haven't been able to say this to you, but I know you're watching me and I'll just take the chance to say this only for you." Jeongyeon then glanced at your grave. "I love you too."

She couldn't contain it, her voice broke. Head hanged low, her vision became blurry as tears welled up around her eyes. "I'm still attached to you, and you were pulling me apart from them, having me conflicted if it was truly the right decision that I joined them."

"I was lost. I didn't knew which way I'll go. What side do I belong to. Fortunately, even without your presence, your existence was still helpful enough to help me at my worst. I couldn't even say this to you too but... thank you and I already forgave you, for everything YN. And I'm sorry if I also put you along with them to suffer with my wrong doings. We're fine now but, still I'm gonna be able to forgive myself for that."

Jeongyeon pursed forward, her tears dropped the grass as her tender hands pressed against your name. "I could wish you're here beside me, hearing it directly. I still couldn't sink it within me that... I went back home without you, forever." She muttered.

Jeongyeon rose up and straightened her clothes after nearly an hour of giving you some of her stories about rejoining the villagers and the group. She grabbed the necklace the villagers had crafted for her before turning to leave him. Based on one of your notes where you drew when they were recovering from your items that were given to Jeongyeon to be kept safe, the design was identical to yours. She looked at the necklace appreciatively, knowing that the other one is in your possession since she remembered you wearing it when you saved her.