#But he suffers so much from the fact that it will not be mutual

[clj-art-blog]

DFQC and XLH in Lucheng | Aside from all too important and not so important matters and missions

[chatdae]

Grace FUMBLED Ryan! BAD parenting to preach respect and then act contrarily (ie saying she wants him to feel safe, then not allowing him any autonomy). She should've let him leave and come back... or at least explained why she didn't want him to leave before deciding (ex: 'Homelander will kidnap you', etc). She needed to let him make the decision for himself... agh. AAAAA.

And now Butcher's no use because he's committed to being evil and can't offer ANYTHING good to Ryan!!! He was so right, they NEEDED to give Ryan more space... I know the external pressures seemed impossible, but dammit, Grace, this was no way to beat the odds!

(this is about The Boys season four)

[bimbosandbubbles]

All Consuming

Starring Yandere Siren Gojo and Geto

Synopsis- Two months ago you became a sole survivor to a supposed animal attack on a lake trip and because of that you’ve become alienated from everyone else in your much too rural community. However,you’re finally not so alone when two mysterious men are way too interested in you…But something’s a little off about them..

Fic for my Summertime Slashers event!

Warnings-mates,Geto and Gojo kinda have a feeding kink in this(they like seeing you eat bcs they only eat human flesh and obviously you don’t 😭), stalking,cum marking(you’ll find out), voyeurism,mirror kink,mutual masturbation,biting,oviposition,icky flirting(they’re very confused on the fact that humans don’t just mate like sirens do), dubcon,borderline noncon,multiple sex scenes,leg worshipping?,manipulation(you’re very vulnerable in this and they take advantage of that),abuse of super natural power(not clearly stated but implied),panty sniffing,lots of breeding kink,and ofc and always CHUBBY READER!

An explanation on sirens and how I tweaked them from traditional folklore! Just so you can have more understanding on why things happen in this fic! So Sirens typically are beings that lure men in with their beautiful voice and then capture them with their magical touch! This is kinda like that but not really! Geto and Gojo are male sirens so they usually target the opposite sex! Their siren voice isn’t necessarily singing it’s just something they can activate in this fic! Also they can go on and off land if they’re well fed! In this fic I imply heavily that sirens take mates like many other sea life!

WC-6.9K/6,925

"Can you give a description of him?"

"Them." Is all you can answer. Seething hot acid pulls at the back of your throat,begging to come out on the steel table. Your quaking hands grip the very edge of the table for some kind of support—a sense of grounding in this situation.

"Right,them. My apologies. The descriptions though,(Reader)?" You gulp,"Well one was taller than the other had these piercing blue eyes,almost like light itself. The other had these soulless black ones...emotionless and empty kinda."

In front of you there's this quiet man presumingly sketching away the description. "Anything else?" You bite your lip and glance down at your scarred fingers but you quickly look away because the memory of just why those injuries remain are there is much too fresh. "I don't know...everything was a blur. I can't remember a thing other than seeing them..."You swallow a thick wad of spit before you utter another word,"tear into my friends."

The officer in front of you stares into your glassy eyes that you bet are red and bulging to the point it looks like you've been choked instead of crying. He sighs,"Look,(Reader) you seem to be a nice enough girl but these details are just not enough to drive this case. This is the third time we've invited you down to the station and you've said nothing to make us believe two men did this to your friends."

"Please! I saw them! I really,really did! I swear! I wouldn't lie about seeing those—those monsters!" The officer sighs and ounces the bridge of his nose,"Let's be real,when the attacked happened you were intoxicated,right? You were out having fun with your girlfriends and probably doing other substances. Or maybe the shock of seeing your friends mauled by an animal got to you. Whatever the case may be I know it's not two human men who ate your friends in front of you."

You clench your fists in pure disgust at the audacity this person has in front of you. He's not the one who had to see it,he's not the one who had to watch your friends cry and beg for help and couldn't do anything about it, and he's certainly not the one who had to live through their constant cries of pain. You finally raise your voice an octave,"I know what I saw and I won't suffer through some accusations pushed onto me because this story isn't believable enough for you!"

The officer doesn't take lightly to your shouting and doesn't remain so calm with his doubt. "I'm tired of listening to your bullshit anyways! There is no man eating monster with glowing blue eyes! And there definitely isn't another soulless black eyed creep!" He takes a deep breath and stands from the metal chair. You sit there in silence fighting back tears and you have no clue why the liquid is fleeing your eye ducts.

It's probably anger or sadness,or both whatever the reason might be you curl up into yourself and sob in front of the two cops. "(Reader), I apologize...but I can't take this case serious. I know you're hurting,losing your friends in an animal caused massacre but you're wasting resources and precious time for cases that actually need to be solved. So just go home and get some therapy,yeah?"

Through teary eyes you gaze at the officer in his harsh eyes and you're left wondering why does no one believe you? It's been two months since the attack and you're doing all the right things;therapy,self groups,going back to normal life,yet you're treated like some crazy person. You've never been the type to lie. Never been the type to abuse someone's trust,so why?

Why are you so unbelievable? Are your tears not mournful enough? Is your slowly deteriorating appearance not evidence enough? Is the scars on your body just too artificial looking for people not to believe the truth?

With your head hung low you whisper,"Sorry officer,I'll go home."

▂▂▂▂

"Oh my god is that her?" The whisper flows through the dining hall. Another answers,"I think she's totally crazy."  Then another,"Oh be nice,her friends got mauled by some kind of wolf in front of her." "I heard it was a bear actually."

You chew on your mediocre sandwich trying to ignore the constant voices mumbling about you. It's the first week you've been back at uni since the attack and it's not going so well for you. People only pity you or look down at you for not just dying with your friends. Some people think that you're even responsible for their deaths. But it won't be much longer until you're free of the university gossip due to the fact that summer break is nearly two weeks away. And even with that time frame people are already leaving the dorms entirely.

And what makes it so unfortunate is that no one's in your corner anymore. Your parents have turned their backs on you because it's like a sin to have a child struggling with their mental health in this godforsaken small town. And your friends well...gone because of that very event. And you can't even dream about making any new ones because now you're looked at like some disease instead of a victim of a horrifying crime.

But it's okay,that's what you tell yourself. And that's the mantra that keeps flowing through your brain as you take bite after bite into your too cold food. You people watch from the wooden eating area—turning green with envy as you glance from after people enjoying each other's company.

That was once you, eating and laughing among your beloved closest companions. You don't wish to be bitter for others happiness but it's hard not to when you're actively being shunned by your whole town basically.

You glance down at your depressing looking tray of food and decide it doesn't even look edible to you anymore. You debate whether or not you should throw it away or just eat it. Simply because you haven't been eating much since the incident. You nimble on your lip and decide you shouldn't force yourself to eat food you don't even like.

You arise from your seat and wish you didn't because now all eyes are on you as if they weren't before. You sigh and walk all the way to trash trying to power through all the chatter and seething stares. They all look at you like some parasite slowly infecting them with your presence alone. 

Sure,you've been stared at before being that you're a bigger girl in a hick town but this is something different. Something crueler...and more hurtful. It's so hurtful that you're just probably going to skip all your lectures and run away into the comfort of your home.

However your mind sets that aside once you see two strangers sitting at your once empty table. Your brows raises as you walk confusedly back to the table to retrieve your book bag.

Once you come closer you're shocked to be met with eyes black as the night...eyes that are so eerily familiar. "Oh I'm sorry we didn't know anyone was sitting here!" His voice is calm and gentle,gentle to the point that you'd melt into the his arms right now because the longing for comfort roughly tugs at you. Pathetic,anyone would agree to that,however you're just so entirely vulnerable for any type of interaction and touch at the moment. Then you take a look at his face and you're shocked to see how handsome he is.

His long raven locks go past his broad shoulders that is covered with a loose breathable crew neck. Not only are his eyes pretty in color but the shape as well;his kind monolids gazing at you right now practically has you flustered. "It's alright..I was leaving anyhow." You mumble with a nervous smile. 

"Nooo! Stay! This table has so much room!" A chipper,more energetic voice adds in. Your attention is turned to the voice and this time you're even more shocked at how good looking this man is too. He has snow white hair that frames his pretty face along with eyes so blue they're almost hypnotizing. But again something in your belly finds those eyes too familiar almost like you've met the men before.

"Oh no you wouldn't wanna sit with me...people will start talking about you too." The black haired man smiles,"Let them talk," he extends his long arm on the back of the seat next to Gojo,"sit." Gojo moves from that seat to make sure you're the one in the middle of the two men. You shyly nod,"Thank you."

You sit down and feel a sudden presence of something....something intense between the three of you despite just making their acquaintance. "My name is Suguru Geto,"he points to the other man beside you,"This is Satoru Gojo." He smiles and waves,"What's your name cutie?" The white haired man peers at you as he awaits the answer to his question. "(Reader Full Name),nice to meet you guys." 

The both say it's nice to meet you also and you guys chatter about each others day,major etc. "Have you eaten yet?" Suguru asks. "Umm kinda,the food I got wasn't very good so I just threw it away."  Gojo say,"Oh no,eat with us! Me and Guru always eat good food so you'll like it for sure."

"No no it's okay! I wouldn't wanna have you guys pay for anything from the food bar." You used the word pay because all the good food you have to pay for instead of meal swipes. And because you're suddenly shunned from this town you're naturally unable to keep a job anymore,therefore making you broker than a joke. "I'll pay." Gojo says.

"It's o—" Gojo interrupts,his big hand managing to fully wrap around your plump upper arm,"I'll pay." He affirms. You just nod silently and watch as he walks up to the food bar to buy the items. Geto looks at you and smile,"So what's a pretty girl like you sitting all by herself for?"

You look down and feel your tummy doing backflips for two reasons;the compliment and the question. You're nervous to explain just why you're being ignored and you're nervous you'll mess up the chance of making new friends. However,you go for being honest and not lying,just to see if they'll actually be someone you'll want to have as companions.

"Well two months ago an incident happened at the lake with my friends. They were attacked by two monsters and I was the only one to make it out alive. But the weird thing is...I wasn't attacked at all...they just ignored me and only went for my friends. But after they were done they looked at me in this way—this way that was so,"you pause,trying to find your bearings,"haunting. Not like they wanted to eat me but something else entirely..." Your rub your pudgy fingers as you explain and Geto does something surprising.

He grips your hands to stop the constant movement. His smooth fingers rub soothing circles on your now healed skin. And it feels so good to be touched with affection, so good that you almost forgot to finish your story. "I went to the police as soon as it happened and I was told it was probably an animal attack but I know what I saw...I know wholeheartedly. And that's why I was sitting alone,everyone thinks I'm some crazy person making stuff up." Your bottom lip begins to tremble as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes.

"And you probably think I'm crazy now too..." Your voice breaks and your brain is working overtime. How humiliating that you're breaking down to a total stranger in public too! God,why are you so pathetic? So vulnerable to the point you easily melt into the arms of an unknown person. Has your sense of self truly scrambled that far away from you? 

Geto extends his arm to wrap around your supple body,he's warm and smells like ocean breeze mixed with sandalwood. "I don't, I believe you." It's a whisper yet the impact is like a loud shout. "You do?" He gets closer,his soft pink lips muttering so close to the shell of your ear,"I do." You shiver involuntarily,your body unable to contain the way his coo affected you physically.

"Thank you." It's a mumble but still Geto acknowledges it with a soft squeeze on your body.

"I brought the food!" A happy voice interjects. Gojo sets down loads of plates of delectable looking food. And suddenly your tummy rumbles just looking at the many options of food.

Gojo hears it,"You hungry now?" You nod shyly and can't help but look down at the very good options. After weeks of eating too cold food and mess hall trash seeing the hot bar meals would make anyone hungry. White hair bobs as the tall man takes his seat next to you.

"Go on,eat." He smiles a toothy grin. His hand extends to your lips with a forkful of pasta that smells so good you literally inhale it. You instinctively open your mouth only to quickly close it. Because oh my God were you about to let this stranger feed you? Has hardly any human interaction made you so compliant?

Gojo pouts,"What's wrong?" You quickly try to reassure him,"It's nothing...but I can feed myself,y'know.." You almost forgot Geto is still holding you,the only cause for remembering is strictly based on the firm squeeze he gives your upper body. "Eat." He asks,more like demands.

Despite how demanding he sounded it was still gentle? Almost like a calming song in an odd way. You open your mouth and Gojo happily stuffs the fork in your mouth. You chew and melt into the flavors of the yummy dish but you can't fully enough it because the men you're sitting next to are quietly observing you.

Another bite is feed to you and another,then another until the pasta is all gone. Every single time you took a bite Geto and Gojo all watched in admiration. Geto,who still has you in a half embrace would caress the supple skin of your bare arms that are free from sleeves in your cotton cami. The texture of the pads of his fingers would rub you as you ate.

And Gojo would clean up your chubby face if he missed your mouth just a little bit. He'd use his thumb to wipe away the evidence of the mess with his oddly sharp and long tongue. His other hand also stayed close and near to the pudge that hangs low on your abdomen,practically cupping the fat that adorns the area.

And all while eating you didn't realize how intimate this interaction really is. Two men watching you as your spoon fed by one and both touching you so...personally;this is not a normal interaction between strangers. You know that,yet it feels too good to tell them to stop. You haven't been touched with affection in so long so why fight it when two handsome men are practically draped all over you?

"Would you like some dessert?" Geto asks. Gojo chimes in,"You should absolutely have some dessert. I got these cute cakes for you to try." You look down in embarrassment,"I don't know if I should...I just ate the pasta." Gojo quirks his brow up in confusion,"So? You can't have dessert too?"

You smile,"I guess I can." Gojo grins brightly,"Atta girl,open wide." Already with spoon in hand and a sweet treat in it, he moves it to your mouth. Of course you accept and chew happily on the sweet treat until a thought interrupts this indulgent interaction. Why haven't they eaten? You've been here,being fed and talked to by these for at least an hour or more,but they haven't eaten? Why come to the lunch hall then?

You quickly swallow the treat,"Aren't you guys hungry?" Geto answers,"Oh me and Gojo were earlier but watching you eat has satisfied our appetite." His response is followed with an enthusiastic nod by his blue eyed friend,"Mhm! You eat so cute it's hard not to get full."

You make a face full of doubt,"Umm,I dunno if you guys are trying to be overly nice to me but I don't believe that for one second." You push away Geto's hold on you and Gojo's slight grip on you to scoot away from the pair. Suddenly,you've fully realized that this whole thing is really weird even though you truly are enjoying the attention from the very good looking men.

But that enjoyment isn't enough to just ignore how fast and dangerous this all could possibly be. You don't know how you just dazed off and forgotten all about that. You stand up and urgently say,"Look,you guys have been really nice to me and I totally appreciate it but this is just all really weird for me so I'm just gonna—"

Geto stands up with such a quickness it's almost supernatural,"Shhh...you don't mean that sweet girl. Just come and sit with me and Saturo,yeah? We'll make all that confusion will go away,okay?" His words are so sweet,so soft and gentle;inviting to the point you almost relax back to the seat but you don't.

"No—can't. This is so personal and you guys don't even know me...plus everyone can see you behaving this way with me." You go to grab your bag but Gojo stops your exit this time. "C'mon cutie,it's okay. It's just me and Sugu,we wouldn't wanna do anything to hurt our lil pretty new friend. If it's the people watching...we can take you up to our dorm and continue this there."

Geto adds,"That's a good idea, all these people shouldn't be watching you anyways." You look at them in confusion and seriously debate if going back to their dorm is actually a good idea at all. "Don't treat your new friends like this;we're not gonna hurt you." Friends? Are they really calling themselves friends?

You bite your lip and glare down at your beat up sneakers,"I don't know.." Gojo pulls you close to him by gripping your soft hand,"It's okay,cutie. It's just me and Geto,we won't do anything."

You bite your lip,stumped with providing them with an answer,it's useless though because an arm links with yours and already starts ushering you along to exit the mess hall. "W-Wait!" You try to pull yourself away from the limb but it's like forged iron. Geto utters,"It's okay. Just come with us. It's just us."

You were panicked,worried,anxious to the point of feeling like throwing up. The feeling washes away as Geto soothes you with his words;odd considering the fact that he's not explicitly saying anything too calming. He's just talking,yet his syllables feel like warm chamomile tea that just eases your mind and heart.

It feels magical...too artificial of a feeling it's almost like being on a high. The feeling only increases when Gojo joins his friend in talking to you;literally and metaphorically syncing with him as he also links his arm with yours.

The longer they talk the more woozy you begin to feel. Your walls of distrust and logic melt away like rapid candle wax,so much so that you begin teeter into their touch.

Your mind is confused and vulnerable to the point you don't realize you're in front of their dorm room until Gojo pulls you into the room. They both free you of their hold and suddenly you feel more conscious.

"Why'd you take me here? I didn't even get a say.." Geto rubs the apparent flesh on the back of your arms,"It's alright...you'll enjoy being with us." Your brows scrunch and you want to spew something aggressive but his touch and his voice are just too...distracting.

"G-Geto.." you whimper. You don't know why you say his name,it's just the only thing your mouth will allow you to say. "Yes, tell me what do you want?" You snuggle closer into his touch,breathless and confused,"I don't know..." Gojo then walks closer to you,taking up the front portion of your body. His hands cling to your wide waist;digits dig into the dough like flesh.

"Would you like for us to give you an option?" The long haired man whispers in your ear,his lips practically pecking the shell of the cartilage. You're weak and feel all too needy. Needy for what is the real question though.

"Please,yes.." you lowly whimper. With that the two men place you onto a soft bouncy mattress,leaving you without the their touch for a few minutes but that doesn't last for long. Gojo already has his hands on your tummy,practically massaging the flesh with his hands. He leans forwards and starts suckling on the skin of your nape.

He starts thumbing the beginning of your loose fitting shorts,"I think these should come off." You gulp and grip onto him,"I-I haven't shaved just so you know." Gojo starts pulling down the waistband to the point he could see your bellybutton,"I didn't ask if you shaved,I said these should come off."  You gasp as you feel a new pair of hands on your thighs—pulling down the bottom half of the outfit.

Geto looks up at you from the position of him being on his knees;slotted perfectly in between your big thighs. "I agree with Saturo,everything should just come off you." Gojo starts pulling off the hem of your panties and once they're low enough Geto grabs the material and carefully slides them off your legs. He does something unusual,by bringing the damp material to his face and taking a deep inhale. He groans into the panties,eyes closed in bliss and a deep harbored groan flees his lips.

Gojo looks down in jealousy and whines for his other half to hand him the undies. You watch as Geto begrudgingly passes him the undergarment. Gojo brings them to his face and his bright blues eyes almost glow with light as he huffs in the smell of your pussy. "Mate smells so good. Fuck..."  You brows furrow in confusion,what did he mean by mate? It's such a primitive and almost animal like to refer to you as that. You don't have much time to think of it though as demand takes all your attention.

"Spread,so we can see that pretty pussy..." The ravenette orders you. You're about to do it but insecurity nags at you,the condition of your unshaven and wild looking pussy drains away at your confidence. What's the point of spreading anyway? The fat of your lips and hair will block the view of anything worth looking at.

"Spread." Gojo repeats. You shake your head no;embarrassment and now common sense are starting to grow back into your brain. Both of the men huff,annoyed with the fact they can't just view the pussy they can smell from miles away,even in water.

For two months since they last fed,they've been so stuck on finding this woman with an unearth like aroma. The being smelt of brown sugar and sweet honey. They've been so determined to find the owner of the scent they've enrolled in this stupid college and kept tabs on you for so long.

Now they have you,almost bare,snagged in their hypnotic touch,yet you won't even let them see what rightfully belongs to them? No. That just won't do.

"Gojo,bring the mirror over here." Immediately the man sitting next to you stands up and retrieves a long floor length mirror to right in front of the bed. You observe yourself in the mirror,tired eyes that look bothered, your flustered face and your slightly messy hair,all the way to your bare lower body.

Why bring the mirror though? Your question is answered when Geto suddenly arises from the floor,taking the space the former was sitting on the bed. His strong hand grips the fatty flesh of your thigh,placing it on his lap. Gojo,now sitting on the opposite side does the same action. You fluster,"What're you doing?" Gojo hums with a happy expression,"Spreading."

They both extend your legs further til your pussy is completely exposed to them in the view of the mirror. "Perfect." Geto says lowly into the cusp of your neck and shoulder. "So pretty,I just wanna lick it." You tensed at the admiration for such a private area,a private area that four pair of eyes are constantly eyeing hungrily.

"So many things we could make you do..." The white haired man suggests. "Mhm,but right now I wanna see her play with it." Geto answers. "P-Play with it?" You try to close your legs back but their grips are too strong on your legs. You couldn't do that—not in front of them. It's embarrassing;being open and exposing yourself raw like that.

Gojo whines,"You're so mean. Trying to close what's rightfully ours. Just play with it...you wanna make yourself feel good,right?" His words and his touch feel like the law,like you have to obey. He didn't say anything overly convincing,yet your body can't help but comply.

Your pudgy digits reach down in between the plump lips—traveling way down to the pulsing hole. The fingers circle the entrance,barely touching the wet flesh. You huff at the light touch,already feeling needy. "It's alright,you can put one in." Geto urges.

You gaze into the mirror,observing the sight of your finger so easily sliding into the welcoming hole. A gasp flees your lips as the appendage starts moving in and out of you. "There you go...keep going."

You obey,moving the lone finger faster and harder than the first few movements. "Fuckkkk,that looks so good. Mate looks so good playing with her pussy." Gojo howls out. Playing with your pussy is not the only view you're able to see in mirror. Gojo and Geto's are in the displaying glass as well;their hard cocks out in the open as they go up and down at the same pace as you.

You bite your lip,immensely turned on by the view of the two men bringing themselves sweet undeniable pleasure. Their hands wander up and down your legs,holding tight the excess flesh you have on the limbs. Geto groans,"Your legs are so pretty,just like the rest of you. So plump and soft. Perfect for giving you so many pups." You moan at his words,adding another digit for the adding bliss.

Blue eyes close in joy,"Oh? You like that? Wanna get pregnant with me and Sugu's babies? Wanna be full of pups?" His hips stutter up into his o shaped hand,"F-Fuck,say yes! Tell us how badly you want that." A whine falls from your babbling mouth,"Want! Need it so bad." Geto groans as he reaches over you to bite into the soft skin of your neck;sinking his teeth in so deep you can feel the light liquid of blood dribble down. Your back arches at the strange sensation that hurts,yet feels oddly so good.

Gojo also goes for a bite,lower though,he finds the spot of your plump shoulder to be perfect. "Mm,you're gonna take it so well when me and Gojo fuck you." The ravenette mumbles into your flesh. His hand travels down to the pouch of your fat that rest slightly above your uterus,he gives it a harsh grasp;fingers digging into the moldable skin. "Perfect,so perfect for giving babies."

Your digits curl into the wet cavern and your body almost folds itself just trying to reach that special spot that resides so deeply in you. You whimper in frustration,your average sized fingers not being just enough to reach that oh so very special spot.

Gojo laughs,"Can't reach? It's okay cutie,me and Sugu will be touching you there all the damn time. Just continue making yourself feel good,yeah? Want you to cum all over your little fingers so I can lick it off." With that bit of encouragement,you thrust deeper;curling the digits so far they're like hooks going into your sloppy cunt.

"Mmmm,look at your cute face. Making such adorable faces in the mirror for us.." Geto hums in your neck,lapping up with rouge from his bite with his slender tongue. Gojo grips your chubby face in his palm,"Right,look at those pudgy cheeks,just wanna bite em." He releases his hold and goes for a gentle nibble on the fat,almost suckling on it like a baby.

With a loud moan,your hand darts out to get a hold on Geto's hair;an action he revels in,loving the harsh pull on the silky strands. "Feels so good." You stammer. "Yeah? That feels good?" Geto purrs. You nod furiously,too caught up in your own pleasure to chatter anymore.

Geto and Gojo experience the same feeling—their eyes are shut in pure anticipation,their pretty swollen tips throbbing to let out the milky substance. You moan louder at the reflection in the mirror;the glass showing you the two men who are so close to falling off the brink of pleasure. The men who just look so desperate to spill all over your spread form.

Faster,harder,deeper is all the thought your mind allows you to even think. Your fingers are working overtime,trying to get over that brink of sweet ecstasy. With one hard thrust,your essence splays all over the mirror,distorting the clear reflection of the glass.

Geto cums soon after,then Gojo. As they do,they make it obvious the cum is all over your body. It mostly splatters on your thighs and your tummy.

You breathe heavily and look at them in astonishment,"Oh my God..."

You couldn't believe it,couldn't believe cumming in front of people you just met,couldn't believe letting them cum all over you,couldn't believe hearing them call you mate and say things like mate—isn't that really weird? You sit up away from the duo and look at them suspiciously. And again you feel more conscious without their touch on you.  More like you can clearly think and think logically.

"Why'd you wanna do this with me?" It's accusing,the question,it practically spews suspicion if it wasn't obvious enough. Geto reaches to touch your thigh,but you move away. "Don't touch me. I dunno what's going on with you two...but it's weird."

Gojo chuckles,"Aww,cutie are you feeling nervous? It's okay—" You cut him off with a desperate shout,"Answer my question! Please! Why?"

They look at each other for a few long seconds,thinking about what to say. You know they’re probably thinking about some elaborate lie that won’t even begin to fool you. How could you be so stupid? So easily wooed to do something so very intimate with these strangers? God,could you be anymore stupid?

They don’t give you any answers—no,the much bigger men tackle you onto the bed. Their hands grab all and any appendage that could fight back.

There it is again…that strange drossy feeling. It returns with a revenge time,it no longer feels like a light enjoyable feeling. Now it’s overtaking all your senses,stealing away your conscious mind.

“Sleep. You want to sleep. Sleep. You want to sleep.” Both of the voices chant to you,repeating the phrase over and over again. No! You don’t want to sleep,yet the more the repeat,the more they tell you what you want,the more your eyes begin to sag and you no longer see anything more.

Black.

▂▂▂▂▂

“No,Su’ you’re not covering her enough!” The annoyed voice of blue eyed man shouts. Geto huffs,”That’s all we have left in us. We could rub it in to scent her further. Calm down.”

Lips pout out in a childlike manner,”I’m just sayin so we can be careful. So many will probably want out mate,she’s so perfect for pups after all.” A chuckle follows,”You’re so possessive sometimes. No one will want her since we’ve marked her.”

“Oh,I’m possessive? You’re the one who said we should eat everyone just because that little guy friend of her touched her while making an escape. I—“Gojo points to his chest proudly,”just wanted to eat two or three but you got all murdery after he touched her.”

Geto rolls his black irises so far they disappear into the white of his socket,”Whatever. You would’ve ate them all anyways because you’re so damn jealous of others having her attention.” Gojo gasps,offending greatly,”Am not! I don’t get jealous like you!”

Geto laughs amused,knowing exactly how his life long friend works,”Alright,you win.” The white haired man hums triumphantly. Physically saying,”I know that’s right!”

“But are you sure we shouldn’t cum a little more on her?” Gojo cranes his head to look next to him,”No,we have to save some when we cum in her so we fertilize the eggs.” He nods,accepting the answer.

▂▂▂▂▂

When you wake up you’re greeted with the sight of loitering heads hanging above you.

You attempt to yelp only to have a hand roughly clap against your mouth. “Shhh,the yell will only echo in the cave.” A high voice says. Cave? Last time you checked you weren’t in a cave;the last location being a college dorm rooms.

The now known voice of Gojo exclaims,”I’m so happy you’re up though! Me and Geto were getting worried that we’d have to give you pups while you were asleep. Which is no fun cause we can’t hear your pretty little moans like that.” You cringe at his explanation—the thought of being used unconsciously giving you the creeps.

You get more creeped out though,the view of your surroundings not seeming so promising. There’s visible peeled human flesh in the cave,scattered around the stone. And the smell of old iron and rotten flesh takes over your nostrils. Oh God…you fingerfucked yourself in front of a bunch of monsters. And they probably want to eat you next too,just like your friends! Once they’re tired of you, you’re definitely on the menu.

Tears start streaming down your chubby face and your body begins to shake. “Just eat me already! Please don’t play with me and just eat me!” Your pathetic cries are met with laughter. This pauses your sobbing because why are they laughing at you?

“Oh my God! You’re so cute! Eat you? Noo!” Gojo folds over clutching his bare abdomen. Geto joins the laughter,”You’re so silly,we don’t want to eat you! You’re our mate! Imagine that,Gojo? Eating all our future pups like that!” Mate? Pups? These words sound familiar,like the ones they were saying the last time…intimacy happened.

Now that you look them in their true form you see why they chose the verbiage. They have scales matching their hair colors coating all four of their limbs,paired with gills on the neck’s and sides. As they laugh they also show their three rows of flesh piercing teeth. They were definitely some kind of animal like creature. But what?

“So you’re not gonna eat me?” You ask tentatively. Geto nods,”No,we want to make you our mate. That’s why we went through all that trouble of getting you.” Gojo urges in agreement,”Mhm! We just wanna fill you with pups and live with ya forever. And actually,”he lowers his hand down to his bare crotch gripping his already hard cock,”We’ve been meaning to do it soon as we brought you here. But you’re such a sleepyhead we had to wait til you woke up.”

You watch as he gives it a good stroke,looking you up and down as does so. And that’s when you realize you’re completely bare too;with some white milky substance coating your whole body. Another voice joins in,”Mhm,we’ve been dying to get inside you. And I don’t intend on waiting any longer.”

“W-Wait!” You try to protest but it’s no avail,Gojo is already on top of your naked body. Grips and gropes are felt all over from the monster,your chest,your plentiful body,your wide supple hips that sting as his hold won’t get any looser. He licks and bites every fiber in skin in front of him,everything being marked by his rough movements.

Geto comes in front of your laying position,stroking up and down as he watches his companion go feral with his urges. “Warm her up,Satoru. Make her feel good first.” He doesn’t respond verbally,his actions speaking loud enough for him;his mouth moves to suckle on the hard bud on top your breast aching for some type of stimulation.

You moan at the sensation only to be silenced by a passionate kiss from the long haired man. His tongue intertwines with yours creating a languid dance with the pink muscles. Gojo pops off your breast,sounding breathless and needy.

“I don’t wanna wait no more..Wanna be inside.” He whines,already lining up his cock with your soaked entrance. Geto sighs,”Maybe I should fuck her first…I’m more patient.” It’s a loud protest,”NO! Me! Please I want to first.”

You interrupt,swollen mouth readily to spew exactly what you want at this moment,”Just do it. Fuck me.” You don’t know what came over you to say that. Maybe it was their hypnotizing touch? They’re intimidatingly now known power over you? Or perhaps after months of being so harshly ignored you just needed this. Needed to be molded and groomed just to be something again…Whatever it is leads to the man on top of you finally giving into his desires.

With a shaky groan he impales you with his cock. He doesn’t halt nor wait for you to adjust—his urges of breeding being too strong. As he bucks into you he reshapes your legs to his satisfaction,bending them all the way against the fat of your stomach;indulging in the way the soft flesh jiggles with each rough piston of his hips.

“Good! Feel so good!” He howls into the echoing cave. “Look at you,taking it like such a good mate.” Geto purrs,rubbing his now scale textured palm on your soft face. “You see all the faces she makes when you’re fucking her,Saturo?”

“Y-Yeah! So cute!” He thrusts harder into your welcoming cunt,contorting himself to almost nuzzle your face every time he goes in and out of you. You whine and grip onto him,feeling an orgasm coming soon. You face twists into one of awaiting pleasure;the orgasm just teetering away from you.

“She’s about to cum! Go faster!” Geto encourages. Gojo,obliges,each of his harsh thrust definitely leaving bruising marks on the back of thighs and asscheeks.

Every movement is like a symphony—coordinating your final path to pleasure. The instruments? The clapping noises of Gojo prodding your hole roughly and passionately. The applause? The sweet noises you’d let fly past your tongue. And finally with one last shove into you,the orchestrater of your orgasm allowed you to sing his high praises.

You see white,yet Gojo doesn’t stop his hips—No he goes faster until he oozes into you hot white sticky semen. He stiffens for a second then reels back into the cavern,to the point his tip kisses your cervix. He stays in you until an odd sensation travels through your walls.

Orbs or something resembling a sphere fight against the strict wall of your womb. It starts with one,then the second,the the third,and the fourth is when you start to feel the invasion of whatever is being deposited in you.

“W-What’s going on?” Geto leans down and kisses your plump cheek,”Gojo’s giving you his pups. Don’t worry it’ll only hurt when they try to get into your womb,but you’re such a good mate you’ll take all of them.”

“A-All of them?” The reparation doesn’t help with understanding the idea. “All of them! And then you’re gonna take Sugu’s too! Isn’t that great?” Gojo joyfully informs you.

Your brain and body hurts so you simply just nod,pretending like you know what they mean. You’re tired. So tired that you lean into Geto’s gentle cupping of your face,closing your eyes;letting the two beings do whatever they want at this point.

Allowing yourself to be totally and wholly consumed by them.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED 🫶🏽🫶🏽 tysm for reading

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[elllisaaa]

enhypen as isabel la rosa songs

-> pairing : enha x fem!reader

-> words count : 3.2k words

-> genre : smut, angst, toxic relationships, enemies, cheating, friends-to-lovers, age gap, friends with benefits

-> warnings : dirty talk, teasing, swearing, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessivness, degradation, begging, praising, marking, oral (f. & m. receiving), use of 'slut' & 'good girl', dry humping, creampie

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist | 1k event masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG - HEARTBEAT

"i can feel your heartbeat, you hate it that you love me."

→ You never liked Heeseung, and luckily, the feeling was mutual - it meant that you were not forced to act as if you didn’t hate each other all the time. You never appreciated people who thought that everything they had was due to them and who couldn’t respect those who had to work to earn their place ; just like you did. 

“- You’ll never be as good as I am, Y/N. It’s a fact, accept it.

- You can be as condescending as you want but one day you won’t have all that money anymore and I will because I worked hard.”

Despite the disgust you felt for him and his privileges, the most efficient way you found to annoy him was to fuck with him. Yes, you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. And yes, he hated you too, but it seemed that he couldn’t get enough of you. 

“- F-Fuck ! You’re always so tight for me…

- If you think it’s just for you, you’re an idiot.”

Heeseung hated it, hated how his body reacted everytime he was inside of you, hated how much effect you had on him. But it was the truth. Everytime he was eating you out, he felt like he could cum in his pants just from the taste that he could not forget. Everytime you were touching him, he had to close his eyes and not look at you or he would definitely get addicted.

"possessive, you’re not mine, but you imply that."

→ “- You can’t go around and flirt with my friends like that !

- And why not ? You’re nothing to me !”

Heeseung couldn’t stand the thought of your lips on Sunghoon’s ones, of you showing him your body just like you did last night in his room. He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he was. So he grabbed your jaw in between his fingers, forcing you to look into his angry eyes. 

“- That’s not what you were saying when I was fucking you yesterday.

- Go to hell.”

But maybe you were the one who was going to end up dancing with Satan with the way you were acting. Everytime, you told yourself it would be the last time. And everytime, you came right back when he asked you to come over. You could tell yourself that it was only because he had a good dick, that it was because you liked to see him suffer but the truth was that you were just as addicted. And when he pushed you against the wall and shoved his tongue down your throat in front of his friends, and that you simply moaned and asked for more, you couldn’t deny anymore - he called and you came in a heartbeat.

PARK JONGSEONG - CLOSER

"i wanna get closer, it’s getting colder, but maybe in your sweater i’ll be warmer."

→ You hated to be that kind of girl, you hated that you were breaking the girl’s code, but was it really your fault ? Jay had always looked at you in a certain way, and even if he was supposed to be off limits because he was your friend’s partner, you couldn’t help but look at him with the same desire. Because it could only be that. 

“- Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you to get a cold.”

You gladly accepted the piece of clothing, suddenly surrounded by his scent that heightened all of your senses. You could feel the pool of arousal between your thighs growing bigger as he landed his hand on your thigh while he drove you home. Jay had proposed that only to have some time alone with you, and the both of you knew it. Even if nothing ever happened, it felt good to have you close. 

“- Are you finally gonna touch me tonight ?”

Jay spared you a glance, but the way his hand was slipping underneath your panties was enough of a hint that you were on the same page. As soon as his fingertips came in contact with your clit, you gasped loudly, having anticipated this moment for so long.

“- Fuck… If I had known that you were always this wet for me…

- What ? You would’ve fucked me sooner ?

- Maybe.”

"you’re scared to get close, but i promise you’ll be okay."

→ “- I said no, Y/N. I don’t want her to discover everything, and I’ve already bailed on her two times this week.

- And you won’t ask yourself why you feel the need to spend so much time with me and not your girlfriend ?”

Jay stayed silent, but he knew you were right. The good thing to do would be to leave his current girlfriend, if not to be with you, at least to have some respect for her. And he used to be a gentleman, he really was, but then he met you and all his values flew right out of the window. But he was too scared to leave her, too scared to hurt her even if he had probably already done that. 

“- Don’t hide your pretty face from me. You’ve begged me to come fuck you and now you’re shy ?”

You shook your head as best as you could, the way his cock was hitting your g-spot rendering you unable to talk or think. Jay smirked, loving how easy it was for him to fuck you stupid, how easy it was for him to get lost in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, or to get hypnotized by your moans and whimpers of his name. 

“- J-Jay, please… ‘M close…”

One of his hands came down to press on your clit and his lips crashed against yours to muffle your sounds. He was afraid that if he heard you whine one more time, he would become a total asshole and leave your friend to be with you. And he shouldn’t even be doing that, he shouldn’t even think about it, but he needed to be closer to you.

SIM JAEYUN - MORE THAN FRIENDS

"i swear all this shit isn’t just in my head, i know we’re more than friends."

→ Jake was the perfect best friend, and even if a lot of people didn’t believe that you and him could only have a platonic relationship, you were. Yes, he was touchy and sometimes, it seemed like you were a couple. Yes, he was at your place more often than at his, but it didn’t mean anything. Or at least, it was what he told you, it was what you tried to convince yourself of to not go crazy.

“- Ah, Y/N ! You’re too hot, everyone is going to steal you away from me !”

When Jake was saying that type of thing, it was hard to believe that there was nothing more between the two of you. You glanced at yourself in the mirror one more time, admiring how your tight dress complimented all your curves. And suddenly, you felt his hands on your waist, his warm body pressing against your back, his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck. 

“- And you smell so good…”

Slowly, your mind drifted back to the drunk make out sessions in the backseat of his car, to his head between your thighs in the bathroom of the bar, to his cock in your mouth, only two weeks ago, at Heeseung’s party. It wasn’t what friends were supposed to do, but you were too scared to address the situation, Jake’s kissing up and down your neck wasn’t helping either.

“- Jake…

- Mmh…

- We’re gonna be late, we have to go.”

He nodded but he still took the time to suck a hickey just below your jaw to mark his territory before going out. He claimed to be only your friend, but he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else tasting you like this.

"i need, need your hand on my waist, please, save me, god, don’t let me die waitin’."

→ “- Please, don’t go home with him. 

- You can’t do that everytime, Jake, you’re not my dad for fuck’s sake !”

And he knew it, but he didn’t want anyone to be with you except him. It was selfish, and if at least, he wasn’t a coward and had the balls to tell you what he felt for you, maybe it would’ve been more sensible. But he couldn’t lose you, he needed you.

“- But I’m your best friend, and I know when a guy isn’t made for you.

- Sure, all best friends fuck each other, common sense. I don’t care what you think, I’m going back with him and I’m getting good dick from someone who isn’t afraid of their own feelings. Goodnight.”

But before you could turn around and leave, Jake grabbed your hands to stop you in your tracks. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, eyes shining with regret. You wanted to slap him across his face for hurting you like this, but you didn’t.

“- I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that you want me as much as I want you, I’m sorry.”

You should’ve sent him away, but you were weak for him, and seeing him at your feet was nice. So you grabbed him by his jaw, leading him under your skirt, his nose pressing against your clit just right. Jake didn’t need more to start licking you through your panties like a starved man. 

“- You have a lot to make up for, Jakey.”

And he was willing to spend hours and hours worshiping you if it was what it took for you to forgive him and give him a chance.

PARK SUNGHOON - OLDER

"think i need someone older, just a little bit colder."

→ Growing up surrounded by irresponsible adults forced you to mature too soon, and it led you to never finding your place. When you were with people your age, they always seemed so childish and petty, making a fuss about everything, and it annoyed you. You knew your perspective was biased because you were the one that grew up too fast, but it wasn’t easier to make friends. And when you were with older people, it was even worse because they treated you like a child, like the young adult you should have been but that you were not. 

“- I didn’t expect to see you come back this soon, Y/N.”

Your eyes immediately fell into Sunghoon's dark but gentle gaze. He was the librarian you quite literally grew up with. When you were little, you spent all your time with him, reading and drinking hot chocolate. But now that you were older, you couldn’t help the attraction you felt for him. 

“- Well, you’ve always had incredible taste in literature.”

You flashed him a smile, and you could’ve sworn you had seen a glimpse of something more in his eyes when you leaned down over the counter to hand him back your books. You could feel the tension, and you knew you shouldn’t play this game with someone so much older than you, but you couldn’t help it - every time he looked at you through his glasses, you felt on fire. 

“- I was wondering if you also had some romance novels to recommend to me, the ones I’ve been reading lately are boring.”

What you were implying was clear, and Sunghoon didn’t lose anything of the show you were putting on for him - cleavage almost showing your tits, lips pouted and glossed, the shortest skirt known to mankind revealing your legs. He felt guilty, but he was only a man and you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“- Come with me, I’ll show you some more interesting things.”

"baby, am i your little secret ? eighteen, i’m old enough to keep it."

→ “- And here are the books you had reserved, Mrs. Brown, have a good day !”

Sunghoon couldn’t help staring at you everytime you were helping him at the library on your free days from college. It seemed like your outfits were becoming more and more thigh and short as time passed. He didn’t complain, but it made it hard for him to concentrate when you were bending down to replace some books, exposing half of your ass to him shamelessly.

“- You’re acting like a slut, Y/N.”

You turned around, cheeks red and trying to act innocent. But Sunghoon knew by now that you were not. The girl he once knew didn’t exist anymore, only replaced by a demon that teased him all day long. 

“- I’m sorry, can I do something to help ?”

You stepped closer to him, dropping down to your knees as soon as you were in between his legs. Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed as you kissed his boner through the material of his pants while your hands fumbled to unbuckle his belt. 

“- See, you know how to be a good girl, uh ?”

You nodded, and in no time, you were drooling around his cock, one of his hands tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head up and down. It was definitely wrong, but it felt too good to stop.

KIM SUNOO - I'M YOURS

"favorite mistake, friendship’s over, won’t be the same." 

→ When Sunoo loved someone, it was with his whole heart, and he would do anything for them. But it was especially true when it came to you. You had a special place in his life, something everyone except you seemed to have noticed. So when you mentioned having been single for too long and that you needed someone to unwind the tension, he jumped on the occasion to prove that he was worthy of you.

“- Are you sure ? Won’t it be weird if we do that ?”

Sunoo shrugged, his mind already clouded with thoughts of you and your shiny lips on his own. 

“- I’m sure. I want to help you. Plus, we’ve been friends for so long, it would take more than that to break us up, don’t you think ?”

You agreed, and Sunoo was wrong for once. Because the moment you tasted him, you knew that there was no going back : you could never live without all of this anymore. So you kissed him back, letting your tongue slip in his mouth as you sat on his lap. 

“- Sunoo… Touch me, please…”

You didn’t know if it was the desperation talking or if you had been craving him all these years without realizing it, but you moaned when he took a hold of your waist, guiding you to grind against his clothed cock. And it felt so good you weren’t thinking about your friendship anymore.

"nervous, trip over my words, you’re so pretty it hurts, baby i’m yours."

→ “- You’re so beautiful…”

You looked up at Sunoo with glazed eyes, far too gone from the way he was thrusting into you. His cock was hitting just the right spot to make you moan loudly, and he wasn’t doing any better with the way you were clenching so tight around him. 

“- Sunoo… Feels so good, I’m so close…

- I’m going to cum too princess, gonna make you mine.”

You whined at his words, wrapping your hands around his shoulder to get him even closer to you, if it was even possible. When he told you things like that, your heart throbbed and you wanted him to mean it so bad. But even with the recent upgrade of your relationship, you knew that he didn’t feel everything you were feeling for him. 

“- Cum for me, pretty, please.”

As if your body had a mind of its own, your orgasm crashed over you immediately, crying out his name while Sunoo painted your walls white, head buried into your neck, but you still heard the three words leaving his mouth.

“- I love you…

- I love you too…”

Sunoo lifted his head slowly, meeting your gaze again. Neither of you needed more words than that, you both knew how you felt, you both knew that he was yours, and that you were his now. 

YANG JUNGWON - EYES DON'T LIE

"you say that you hate me, then tell me shit nobody knows." 

→ Out of the guys, Jungwon was the one you were the least close to. It was not really intentional, but he never seemed to take an interest in you when you hung out with them, and who were you to force him ? And hearing Sunghoon and Heeseung joking about the fact that the usually sweet guy he was probably hated you made you end up believing that Jungwon might simply despise you.

“- Ah ! Sorry to bother you Jungwon, I’m just here to pick up some books Sunghoon wanted to lend me.”

Jungwon didn’t ask more questions and let you enter their dorm, rubbing his red eyes. He seemed to have cried, but mentioning it would be inappropriate. 

“- Are you okay, though ? You seem tired.”

Your words brought new tears to his eyes, and though you had never talked to each other for more than two minutes before, he told you all about his worries, and you did your best to comfort him. You didn’t know when, but you ended up cuddling with him at one point, your fingers running through his hair to calm him down and your eyes diving into his. 

“- Can I kiss you ?”

You didn’t know what came over you, but you nodded and Jungwon’s lips crashed against yours. But the way he was looking at you with such hunger, the way he had always looked at you really - but you were too much of a coward to admit it - was making your heart beat faster. 

“- Kiss me more, please.”

And Jungwon did just that, not thinking about all the things that were on his mind just moments before, only you occupying his thoughts. 

"say you’re mine, eyes don’t lie, i swear friends don’t get this close."

→ “- Look at me and tell me you feel nothing for me, go on !”

But Jungwon couldn’t do that. After that one time when he made out with you and a little more, he didn’t dare address the subject with you, too afraid of everything you awakened in him. He was playing it off as best as he could, trying not to stare at you for too long but he couldn’t help it sometimes - you just attracted him for some reasons.

“- I.. I can’t, Y/N.”

He couldn’t because the reason he stayed away from you was that he knew that he would fall for you so easily, that he knew you would become vital for him if he ever got a taste of you. 

“- You’re cruel, Jungwon. You could’ve told me you didn’t want anything from me and it would’ve hurt less.” 

Jungwon knew it was selfish, but he kissed you in hopes it would erase what you had just reminded him - he was the idiot in this story, the only one to blame. And the only way he found to make it up to you was by burying his head between your thighs.

“- Don’t stop Wonnie, please…”

And he didn’t, licking and sucking all of your juices , his nose bumping against your clit every time he moved, and his groans of pleasure producing a vibration that felt too good. 

“- Say you’re mine, Y/N, say I’m yours.

- I’m yours baby, please !”

Jungwon doubled his efforts to make you cum all over his face, moaning against your wet folds. He couldn’t deny anymore that he was down bad for you, he couldn’t deny anymore that he would do anything for you to love him. But seeing the adoration in your eyes when he got up to kiss you again, he wouldn’t have much to do for you to reciprocate his feelings.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @snouvllvg @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @lichyuu @foxinnie8

1k event taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@emmaluvsjisung

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, no, still born." -- DPXDC AU

Based off a comment I saw where Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy in the earlier comivs, and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

Instead of Damian, that baby was Danny! Meet Daniel Brown, the 14 year old foster kid whose been living with the Fenton family for the last two years. He's about two years older than Damian.

His last name, "Brown", was a generic surname given to him because the note he came with didn't have one on it. It just had the name "Danyal" on it, but albeit 'Daniel' was the one that had been put into the system for, I'll be totally frank here, racism reasons.

(I looked it up to make sure, and it's generally not permissible for foster parents to change the names of their foster kids even if it's a permanent residency, and for that reason Danny doesn't have the last name "Fenton".)

Danny's got ✨~issues!~✨ He's been through a handful of homes growing up, most of them terrible for a variety of reasons. Which has, as a result, left lasting scars. He's generally a very sweet kid, just very distrustful and jumpy. He's got the signs of a kid suffering from PTSD, and a handful of other issues including attachment and insomnia. His inferiority complex could rival Damian's, and that's going to make for an interesting mutual hatred for when they finally meet.

(something I'll get into later)

He still has the blanket he was found in. It's made of a very high quality material and is a beautiful emerald green with little golden thread accents, it's high quality as a result has Danny clinging onto a desperate hope that his bio family might be out there, and the only reason they gave him up was because of some outside factor. It's been taken a few times in old foster homes, and he's flipped out each time.

While he still calls Jack and Maddie by their names, he likes them well enough. The bar isn't that high though, and while they're some of the better foster parents he's had, "better" doesn't equal "safest". Their laboratory malpractice. Basically, C- Fenton Parents. They're negligent by virtue of being engrossed in their work, but they do care equally about Jazz and Danny. So he doesn't hold it against them that much.

He kinda prefers it that way, their loud affection is overwhelming and Danny doesn't know what to do with their attention, even if he craves it. It's a bit of a complicated situation.

They took in Danny because they genuinely wanted another child, but didn't want a big age gap between them and Jazz. It was actually Jack's idea to foster, and they discussed it with Jazz beforehand. She was all for the idea. Thus, a handful of weeks later, a ton of paperwork, and inspection later, and Daniel Brown entered their household with a trash bag in one hand and eyes like shards of stained glass.

His relationship with Jazz is kinda strained, but that's by virtue of her constant psychoanalyzing and helicoptering. Like with the parents, Danny's overwhelmed by the attention and also just, straight up doesn't like the fact that she's telling him that there's something wrong with him. He knows that, thank you. He pushes her away when she does this.

Other than that though? When Jazz isn't smothering him and is acting like an actual sibling and not a third parent, they're pretty close, and Danny really likes her. They've hung out a few times on their own volition, and Jazz showed him how to take better care of his long hair.

His school situation,, pretty similar to canon with the bullying, albeit with a few more instances of him blowing a fuse and lashing out against his attackers. He's a rather angry kid, but it's quiet. It builds up, piles on top of itself, until eventually, like a volcano, it erupts and burns everyone within radius.

Danny's got a fire core, not an ice core. Phantom's hair is made of white magma; thick and heavy, setting itself on fire when his anger runs hot. When he gets angry, his skin begins to char and split open to reveal pulsating lava underneath, and he crackles and pops like a raging forest fire.

I haven't decided yet on how he meets the batfam -- i've got two ideas but they're both in opposition to each other, and drastically alter how the rest of the plot goes. But I do know that him and Damian hate each other in the beginning. And it has nothing to do with inheritance or "being the blood son" -- although their blood relation absolutely plays the major role in their disdain for each other.

Simply put, they're jealous of each other for the same thing: thinking that the other was wanted.

Damian hates Danny because, unlike Damian, Bruce knew about Danny since conception and wanted him from the moment he heard about him. He had a whole nursery set up, and still does. He never took it down -- just locked the door. Damian was thrust upon Bruce without warning, and he feels like he forced himself into the family. And while on some level Damian knows and understands that Bruce wants him and loves him as much as his other children, that doubt and feeling of inferiority still remains. He looks at Danny and sees him with what Damian always feels he needs reaffirmed.

Meanwhile, Danny hates Damian because he looks at him and sees him with everything Danny's ever wanted. He hates him because Damian grew up knowing both of their parents, with one of them for most of his life, and then moved over to the other. There was never a moment where Damian was (seemingly) left to doubt his place within the family. Damian was raised with the very same woman who left Danny on a doorstep, with no clue to his identity beyond a little green blanket and a note with only a first name. Damian was wanted everywhere, and Danny was wanted nowhere. Damian is Danny's replacement in his eyes.

(It's the little revelation that Damian grew up with their mother that elevates Danny from being quietly envious of Damian to downright despising him. What did Damian do, that Danny didn't? He could live with Damian living with Bruce -- Bruce didn't know Danny was even alive. But him living with their mom? Are you fucking kidding him?)

Damian never outright attacks Danny physically, but it's not like he hides that he didn't like Danny. Meanwhile, Danny, in all his repressive anger, quietly despised him from a distance until finally one wrong snide side-comment has him blowing up and it becomes a screaming match. They're both just enough similar to each other that when they look at each other they really just see a mirror.

They'll work it out together, eventually. But it'll be ugly and cruel and explosive, and they'll start mending the bridge to become brothers in more than just blood relation in the end.

But yeah, stillborn Danny has... a lot going for him.

[greenqueenhightower]

Larys x Alicent Scene in 2x04—Analysis:

The scene opens with Alicent getting a hot stone to ease her abortion pains which were distracting enough that she forgot to hide the moon tea jar. She bids “come” to the visitor who knocks at her door. She’s suffering alone, having refused the maids and servants Larys sent her to tend to her every need. It's her attempt to loosen his grip on her.

Notice how she says “Lord Larys” and closes her eyes when she becomes aware of his presence. He has appeared at the worst possible moment.

Larys knows immediately that something is amiss for Alicent to skip the council meeting, and as per Matthew’s words, whenever something is going on, Larys seeks a way to benefit from it. So he enters the room and Alicent lies blatantly and in front of his face. He doesn’t like that. After all, they had a relationship of mutual trust. Or so he thought. Alicent now reveals that she could never trust him fully, and maybe he should have done the same. There is so much unsaid conversation happening.

Alicent is scared to finally expose herself so openly to Larys who can see right through her and her lies. Look at how Larys stares at Alicent when he says “that is a rich indulgence” referring to the moon tea. The tension is off the charts. He says “it is a sin to deny your appetites” and he means Alicent's natural sexual drives. He is basically telling her that she shouldn’t feel sorry or in need to hide the fact she is having sex; if only she were doing so more openly. Is that an invitation?

“They are what make us fully alive as mortal men.” Larys compares his foot fetish to Alicent's sexual lust. They are both appetites and he offers an excuse for both of them. Larys is already thinking about how he might use this situation to his advantage. 

Alicent is evidently afraid and disturbed. Her secret is exposed. She changes the subject to the council. She has to steady herself and grab a chair. She bends her back and looks more crippled during that scene than Larys who again towers over her. He further examines her surroundings for more information. What is going through the Queen’s mind these days? Has he completely lost his grip on her since she sent all the maids away?

“Ser Criston wins every challenge he faces there” and “you must worry for him”—he knows, he definitely knows, and tries to provoke a reaction. Her general response of only worrying for him because he is the Hand of the King, confirms it. Notice how he stands up to come closer to her and Alicent sighs and holds her forehead; she knows this interrogation is not over.

He tells her that she has not appeared herself as of late. It's him, Larys Strong, who knows the Queen so well that he can offer a comparison. Something is amiss; what has so altered her state? This time he is not fishing for Alicole confirmation, he is referring to her frame of mind. What has upset it? Her response is enlightening not because she lets him in on the toll these events have had on her, but because essentially, she tells him off. She implies that he should mind his place, and stop trying to invade her every thought, the same way he invades her space. That he should let her at least have her mind to herself. But he knows how to get her to talk, and she reveals that she started looking into the histories as a source of wisdom like Viserys did.

Notice how shocked she is when he proves that he can read her thoughts and say: “do you think this is why he changed his mind, in the end?” Damn it, damn him, how does he do it every time? He knows what she's thinking. He knows she's been musing over Viserys’ wish for Rhaenyra to be Queen.

“Do you now doubt his intentions?” Larys is a discerning creep. He manages to get what he wants out of Alicent: she responds in a way that matters so much to him and concerns how the war will be fought. Is his Queen going to chicken out now that she has discovered her misinterpretation of Viserys’ words? How is his Green side going to fare in this war? Should he be looking elsewhere, or do they still have the upper hand and go for the win? Alicent reassures him by saying that Viserys wishes have ceased to matter. They are going to pursue their goal nonetheless. And that is what Larys wants to see and hear: that they are still on the same page and she is ready and willing to play the game for herself. That they are still the cunning and scheming allies they have always been, despite Alicent's revelations.

Or, he starts to think, perhaps even more so now.

[emblazons]

forewarning: this is the longest "this is mike's arc and I'm tired of denying it" breakdown i've done in a min (it's def about gay mike bar none so. skip if you want)

I keep reading posts about "where Mike is with his feelings for Will" all across the dash now, and...while I get the idea of wanting a Mike as devastated by not hearing from Will as Will was because Mike's aware he has romantic feelings, *Arya Stark Voice* that's not him?

In the show, Mike Wheeler wears his heart on his sleeve. He is prone to emotionality and doesn't really track his feelings within himself the way Will does—is "less interior," for a lack of a better phrase, which both plays dramatically into how things are playing out with both El and Will and makes it (dare I say it) out of character to believe he's as "hurt by his own hope" as Will is when it comes to mutual feelings.

Let me see if I can explain.

First: I think it's important to keep in mind that, at least with Mike, you get someone who will subconsciously act on "inner truths" before he even realizes they're true about him—and someone who will behave according to whatever external reality deems "correct" until he realizes 1) its bullshit or 2) its not true for him personally. We see this season over season:

First with how he willfully breaks rank with authority (his parents, the police, even the community) first to find Will and then again breaks rank with even his friends to protect Eleven in season 1

Then in S2 when he throws "proper" behavior to the wind (which is even slightly acknowledged in Will's 'don't tell the others' / 'crazy together) to be there for + lowkey confess the depth of his feelings to Will (everyone say thank you shed scene)

Again (though slightly different) in S3, with how there's this bubbling thing being gay he doesn't realize has started to manifest itself—cue that comment the duffer's made forever ago about S3 being about "the monster of puberty," aka when people start to understand their own attractions—until the very end of the season with how he realizes he's not attracted to El

And finally in S4, when he consciouslly knows for a fact he's not into El and tries to hide it—quite poorly, because, as I said, he can only abide a "lie" when he doesn't realize it is one—but hasn't yet realized that the thing bubbling up inside him THIS season (that keeps slipping out without him realizing it) is his attraction to/romantic feelings for Will.

In Season 4 especially, its easy to track how this "I can lie...until I know it is one" affects Mike's romantic prospects; we see plainly that his lying about his feelings to El during the monologue was a failure because the power of Mike's whole character is rooted in the importance of him being true to himself and his heart. Season over season, we've seen that Mike has to be honest with people once he knows what he feels in order for his leadership to be effective—and by S4, he knows he doesn't love El romantically (+ has known for a HOT minute, aka since his little S3 post-kiss revelation)—which is why he tries to skirt around the issue with that "I care for you so much" rather than lie to El's face about his lack of romantic feelings.

Basically: once Mike consciously knows something is not right in either the world or inside himself, he has to act on it...or suffer the consequences of his lack of honesty. But then....what does that have to do with him not being the one "not trying to be in love" with Will?

Despite the fandom urge to deny it even in the wake of The Duffers and Finn Wolfhard themselves telling them it's true: Mike being oblivious to his own feelings, or at least consciously unaware, of his own romantic feelings for Will is a solid amount of what's driving his character's growth right now. Mike "friends don't lie" Wheeler has spent the entirety of this show trying to be as honest as possible with the people around him, and we've clearly seen as of S4 what happens when he isn't honest—the world (quite literally) falls apart.

When it comes to his romantic arc especially, it's important to remember this is true, because it means, through logical deduction, that Mike isn't hiding the fact that he has feelings for Will throughout season 4—he's hiding the fact that he's not in love with his girlfriend the way he's supposed to be, which both plays into the whole forced conforming through-line of the season and explains the crux of his narrative even as we are primarily shown that experience through Will's eyes—unreliable as they are. The thing leaking out of Mike without his knowledge is the fact that he likes boys—but the thing he's consciously hiding and lying about is the fact that he doesn't like girls the way he knows he's supposed to.

Now: does that mean he doesn't have a million subconscious responses to things regarding Will—one's rooted both in his attraction to men and his friendly/romantic/evolving feelings for him? Absolutely not. Half of what drives Mike's S4 narrative was built into his wordless/subconscious actions throughout S3, from the way we see him look disgusted with girls when they're mentioned, the way he take's El's hands off him when she tries to kiss him, and even the way he looks conflicted by her kiss at the very end of the season. Just because Mike is consciously unaware that something is happening to him doesn't mean the thing isn't happening—it just means that Mike himself is oblivious to it.

Even so: Mike being oblivious to the fact that he's attracted to men/in love with Will means he isn't consciously trying to keep himself away from Will—which is clear, if you pay attention to every moment before he gets guilted into remembering he has a GF by Argyle.

Basically, the crux of Mike's own experience with his problems is—

"I don't love El the way I'm supposed to, and it's going to cause problems if I can't do that for everyone I care for,"

not

"I am trying to hide my feelings for boys/Will and have to pretend they aren't there to be normal."

—which is a subtle but critical distinction in understanding both where he is by the end of S4 and where he's headed moving into S5.

Now: I get that it's more fun to imagine a Mike fighting his feelings for Will consciously throughout S4, but....that's Will's story and experience of his feelings, not Mike's. Mike is fighting with his lack of attraction to women more than his attraction to men/Will—which is also why you see it slip out so much despite the time/era/what he knows of what happens to gay men in Hawkins.

If Mike knew he loved Will/boys consciously, he'd be much more afraid of himself and Will than he is even as of the last shot of S4—but he's not, which is shockingly telling if you consider how he already knows what he doesn't feel for Eleven. Once he does know what he feels—his "a-ha" moment about liking Will, the same as his consciously realizing he didn't love El "like that" as of end of S3—it will be impossible for him not to address it in himself...and finally be honest/undo the damage of The Lie he told El (he loved her) during the monologue.

That's the (canonical) trajectory of Mike "The Heart" Wheeler—and why him being oblivious to his feelings for Will, not just "secretly longing without wanting to indulge hope he might have the boy he loves" the way Will is experiencing moving into S5. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[morning-star-joy]

but you know the killer doesn't understand (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Post!Outbreak Neighbors Joel x F!Reader

Summary: When Joel returns to Jackson and meets you, his new neighbor, he knows right away he's fucked.

Request: Reader being Joel’s neighbor and reader is super kind and and nice to everyone (especially Joel and Ellie) and having this lightness and softness about her and they’re kinda in love with each other but Joel won’t admit and allow himself to act on it (full request)

Tags/Warnings: Language, Joel is bad at feelings, innocence kink. Series will include angst, mutual pining and TW mentions of previous miscarriage

Wordcount: 784

A/N: There will be multiple parts to this! Ty lovely anon for sharing your beautiful idea and entrusting it to me

Part I || Part II || Part III || Masterlist (More Parts Coming Soon)

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel Miller was not a kind man.

Any kindness he ever had lingering in his soul had been eradicated over twenty years spent doing whatever it took to survive after the end of the world.

It was just the way that it was. After so much loss and suffering, so much blood spilled from his own body and from those that he had not only killed, but tortured, in cruel, unimaginable ways—there was no way that he could still manage to be soft. 

Hell, or anybody else, for that matter. Joel was of the firm belief that nobody who had made it this far didn’t have blood on their hands. In fact, it was just about the only thing he still believed in: the indisputable fact that every person in this fucked up world was just as fucked up as it was.

That was, until he met you.

When he and Ellie returned to Jackson, and she moved into the garage on his property as he settled into that large house that almost unnerved him with how quiet and peaceful it was, he was content to be a recluse in the settlement. Joel would do what he could to protect the town—he owed Tommy that much—but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do something as mundanely trivial as make friends.

And then you showed up on his doorstep a few days after he arrived, standing there in a faded sundress with a plate of something that smelled so tempting in some kind of peace offering he would have expected before the apocalypse, but not ever since society had crumbled down.

There was a soft smile on your face, a warmth in your eyes that had Joel completely taken aback and, fuck, he already knew he was in for it just then, before you even opened your mouth.

“You’re Joel, right?” you said in a voice as soft as that smile, kindness oozing from every word in a way that almost made Joel start to feel uncomfortable because what was the catch?

“Joel Miller?" you tried to clarify by adding his last name when he didn't answer, but you were seemingly unfazed when he still didn't say anything as you continued, "I’m friends with Maria and Tommy. They mentioned you had just moved in.”

You leaned back then, turning your face so you could point at the house next door, but Joel was too busy glancing over your face, searching for a sign of weariness, of deceit, trying to convince himself you were just as tired and mean and fucked up as the rest of them.

“I live next door,” you explained with the pointing before your hand went back to the plate, and you held it out further, making Joel lean back slightly. “I just wanted to come by and say, well…welcome to Jackson!”

You smiled again, almost a grin now, a cheerfulness that made Joel stiffen as his chest tightened with an unfamiliar feeling. It was one that had once been well-known in another life, before he had lost everything. 

A feeling he had never wanted to experience again.

So he took the plate, muttering a gruff thanks as his Southern upbringing—as far away as it was now—wouldn’t let him do otherwise, even as he quickly shut the door right in your face directly afterwards.

He had expected you to linger for a moment, probably taken aback by his abrupt rudeness at your gesture of neighborly peace, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear your feet retreat from the other side of the door right away.

What did shock him was when you called out your name, introducing yourself even through the wall of the too damn big, too damn peaceful and quiet house before your footsteps finally did click across the porch as you left.

Click? Had you been wearing heels? He couldn’t remember, but he felt a surge of something and, fuck.

Joel said nothing as he crossed through the house to the back door, heading to Ellie’s small abode to drop off what he realized from the annoyingly delicious smell was banana bread, so the girl could eat it.

She had accepted it with enthusiasm, asking him where he got it, a scarred eyebrow arching with interest as Joel merely mumbled an annoyed “neighbor” before leaving.

When preparing for bed that night, all Joel could think of was the click of a heel, the scent of freshly baked sweets, a delicate finger pointing towards a house right next door, the flare of a pale yellow dress as you turned and fuck.

Fuck, this was bad.

You were bad.

Because you were good, and he was bad.

Fuck.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped. 

6k words, fem!reader, bau!reader, some mutual pining, reader is suffering from effects of ptsd, allusions to kidnapping + torture, hurt/comfort, hotch has a soft spot for you (as do most of the team)

༺༻

Reid was abducted, once. 

You can remember the anxiety of it like a hand around your throat. It feels cruel to say that his abduction and torture had effected you more than if it had been a stranger, but you meet so many people, so many victims of cruelty, that the fear starts to blunt. 

Though it doesn't blur. You find it impossible to forget the people that you've failed, and failing a team mate? That had been excruciating. 

Only when you'd been taken yourself had you realised it wasn't a failure at all. 

You wish the others would understand that. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Prentiss asks as you sit down. 

You suppose you had gone down a bit hard. "Mm?" you hum in question, pulling a copy of the initial case file toward you. 

"You looked a little wobbly." 

"Long night?" Morgan asks.

There's both sympathy and mirth in his voice. If you did have a long night, it wouldn’t be from anything fun. He knows that. Everybody knows that. That's why they're treating you like glass. 

"I actually slept really well," you say softly, returning his smile with one that's entirely genuine. 

"That's good, considering," he says, bracing his forearm against the conference table. 

He's been your number one supporter since you came back. Probably because he feels very guilty about what happened. You'd been paired up at the time. 

"Actually, it's common for people who've been abducted to sleep incredibly well for a long period afterward. It's similar to the leisure sickness phenomena- Your body would have been in defence mode, and-" 

"Reid," Hotch says firmly, stepping into the room with his usual lowbrow. 

"Sorry." 

And the spiel begins. JJ lays out the details of the case she's triaged and the team gives their first input. The barest beginnings of a working theory. You try to contribute and find your tongue a leaden weight in your mouth. Ever since you got back, you've been useless. 

You can't do your job, but thank god you can sleep at night, right? 

You miss the start of his sentence, your focus latching onto Hotch's conclusive, "Wheels up in thirty." 

Your team are standing in seconds, trained in the art of quick departures. You used to be good at this part. You're a good agent, even when you're a mediocre profiler. 

"L/N?" 

You blink. "Mm?" you hum, meeting your unit chief's concerned look with a perfected blasé. 

You've come to a stand in front of the table, and everyone else has left. It's you and Hotch alone. 

"If you're not ready to go back into the field, that's okay." 

If you were Reid, or Prentiss, or especially Morgan, you'd get defensive here, and you would lie well, but you’re a bad liar and Hotch is a great detector for them, so you tell the truth. 

"I'm not sure that I'm ready, but I'd like to go. I won't be a burden. I can work effectively." 

"I know you won't be a burden." 

You tilt your head to one side and feel your hair shift over your thick sweater. You haven't felt like showing much skin, lately. Everybody has noticed, because they notice everything, and nobody has made you feel bad about it. In fact, your fellow agents have made numerous comments about the chilly weather. It's July. 

Hotch's eyes fall to your long sleeves for a split-second. 

"Do you think he's alive?" you ask.

"Sorry?" 

You nod your head toward the board, where the portrait of your kidnapping victim hangs in full colour. "Do you think he's alive?" 

"Unless there's evidence that would suggest otherwise, we shouldn't assume. You know that." 

"I know that that's the answer you're used to giving." 

His voice goes too soft, like he's talking to somebody in grief. "I think he is." 

You honestly can't stand it when he talks to you like this. You tilt your head a little further and see him the way he'd been that morning, his tenderness, his fear. He'd opened the door and suddenly you'd known you were safe. 

He hasn't looked at you right since he found you.

"I have all my best clothes in my go-bag," you offer. 

"Well, go get it. This might be a long one." 

—

The jet is a really nice jet. 

It's hard not to feel impressed by it. It's a vehicle that can take you from one crime scene to another, and it's a necessary expense, but it feels lavish. The clean smells, the comfort, the kitchenette. It has a full-sized toilet. 

"Missed this?" Morgan asks knowingly. 

You wheedle your way into one of the four seats surrounding the main table and smile when he drops down next to you. "Missed using you as my personal pillow, maybe," you tease. 

"Table hogs," Prentiss complains, sitting on the armrest of the couch in defeat. 

You laugh under your breath. Morgan pulls out his laptop and turns the screen so everyone can see Garcia, and as soon as the jet's taken off the second round of speculation begins. 

You regret sitting where you had quickly. You can feel Hotch's analysing gaze where he sits opposite. He doesn't believe you're ready to come back. 

You lick your lips.

"Why would she cut him open just to kill him straight afterward?" JJ asks. "I mean, if she didn't assault him?" 

"It's unlikely that she's a sadist," Reid infers. 

"Disembowelment is a pretty painful, horrific way to die. Maybe she realised that and killed him," Morgan suggests. 

"Remorse?" you murmur. "Could mean she's… younger. And revenge killers don't always see it through." 

"Why take another one if you can't commit to the first?" Prentiss asks. 

"Maybe that's why she took him. She wants time to work herself up," you mutter. 

You hide your hands under the table. It's hard to ignore the similarities with the current case and the one you're investigating. The unsub who'd taken you had been narcissistic and self-righteous, punishing the BAU for stopping her second murder — you'd predicted her next victim and moved him before she could take him. 

So her victimology had changed, and she'd stolen you. 

She couldn't commit to her first session of torture: hesitant cuts, loose ligatures. By your turn she'd improved, but her tentative resolve had remained and she'd run after three days. It's the worst thing she could've done, buying herself less than a week on the run and leaving you with no outside communication. 

You'd almost died of dehydration. 

"She's choosing from a specific group," Reid says. He holds up a photograph of the first victim. He'd been murdered in his bedroom, and the walls are plastered in playboy. Kill all men has been written across his forehead in red lipstick. "Our abductee, he was wearing a t-shirt featuring popular bikini model Miss Olympia. In a state of undress." 

“Is that specific?” Prentiss asks wryly.

"She's angry," you say. 

Hotch leans forward and clicks Garcia's call button. "Garcia?"  

"Sir." 

"Are there any prolific feminist groups in the area? Radicals?" 

They fall into conversation, a pulling and pushing of information. Something about online forums, flame wars, political arguments. 

It's not the strongest theory in the world but they can make it work. You should be making it work with them. 

The flight is an early morning longhaul to Idaho and you work the case the entire time you're in the air. There's an abundance of coffee that you reject because you're worried it'll rehash your on-again off-again migraine, and while your teammates are offering theories, intertwining details with bright eyes and bushy tails, you struggle to keep up. 

There's a lull before landing where everybody parts ways. JJ moves to sit with Prentiss where they talk in hushed but conspicuous giggles. You hear the words Will and dishes and back rub and decide to stop listening for your own sake. 

Morgan laughs, having heard what you just heard and liking it a far deal more, and stands. "Coffee?" he asks as you yawn.

You shake your head sluggishly. "Be quick, we'll be landing soon." 

"I know, sweetheart, I heard the same announcement as you." He takes your empty water glass with a supportive squint. "Let me get you another." 

"Thanks." 

You'd regretted your seat as soon as you'd taken it, the feeling of being boxed in having grown and grown over the course of the journey, and Morgan’s brief departure gives you some much needed space.

You squeeze your hands together until your knuckles ache. 

"L/N?" 

Hotch is looking at you. You know exactly what he sees. Someone who isn't ready to be back in the field. Someone who isn't being effective, as you'd promised. 

"You okay?" 

"Just warm,” you lie, pushing your hair away from your neck. 

You're a bad liar. He gets up to turn on the air conditioning anyway. 

You slouch down in your chair and pretend to nap for the rest of the flight. 

—

Crime scenes where people died smell bad. It's a fact. They smell like pee, the sharp stick of ammonia, and the metallic aftertaste of blood. You're trying hard not to fall into your own memories of the two. 

You need to move past what happened. The only way you're gonna be able to do that is to re-desensitise yourself, and that includes volunteering for the nasty stuff when Hotch tries to relegate you to questioning witnesses. 

"I'm not good at interviews," you'd said plainly. 

And he'd taken it for what it was and let you do what you usually do: you look for clues. If anybody could hear you think that you'd be ridiculed, but they can't. You enjoy yourself. 

Let's Scooby Doo this bitch. 

"Careful," Hotch says, holding a hand near your hip. You'd almost stepped into the largest puddle of blood still wet in the very middle. 

Right. He'd let you take the gross job but now you're being babysat. 

What did she do in this room? Why did she kill him here but abduct the second man? 

"If it weren't for the photos, I'd never link this victimology," you confess. 

The photos. The unsub had sent pictures of her abductee with Kill all men written across his forehead. In lipstick. 

What changed the MO? Why kill the first at home and steal the second? 

The political theory feels more plausible. 

"I think you would've." Hotch casts his gaze over the desk. "This is a messy one. Opportunistic but personal. Our unsub, she…" His voice turns to a mutter, as it tends to do when he hits a roadblock. "She wants attention, because the first murder didn't do what she'd hoped." 

"What is she hoping for?" 

He picks up a piece of coloured paper and holds it up to his chest so you can see it. It's a flyer for speed dating at a Café Martini, every Friday at 6PM. 

"Where was Paul last seen?" you ask. 

"Good question." 

He takes his phone from his pocket to call Garcia. 

You listen to their conversation for a while, his serious questions and her flirtatious answers. 

You look back to the floor and push the white toe of your tennis shoe into the rug until the rubber's red with blood. It's not good practice. You're now a walking biohazard. Why is the blood still wet? It should've sunk into the carpeting hours ago. How much did he bleed? 

When you'd been abducted your unsub hadn't been keen on torture. She'd made small, quick cuts over your upper arms, more to punish you than because she truly enjoyed it, and she'd hit something important by accident. 

The blood had pooled in the crook of your elbow. It had stayed wet for a long time. You remember trying to clean yourself up with your t-shirt, too drugged up to move right, and eventually the drugs had worn off and it had really, really hurt. 

This boy had been cut from hip to hip. 

"Maybe you should go sit in the car," Hotch says. 

"Why?" 

"I've been talking to you."

"I've been listening." 

"Don't lie." Hotch takes a step forward, black shoe close to your white. "Look at me." 

You look up, eyebrows raised as you try to blink yourself awake. His eye contact is something you've always struggled to hold, knowing he's learning a lot more from your expression than you are from his. You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks and find them hot with embarrassment. 

"I'm really sorry," you apologise, eyes aching. Not burning, just aching. Like a bruise. 

Hotch nods, expression impassive. "It's okay. Go sit in the car." 

He outranks you as an SSA, he's your boss for every intent and purpose. He's your friend, sometimes, and you've yet to see him make a bad call. You listen and go back out and down to the car. You've already broken your promise not to be a burden. 

Best to play along and play well. You don't want a desk job. You don't want to lose the team. 

In the car, things feel better. It smells like new and you take some time to breathe it in with slow, deep breaths. The pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror is still soft and wet to touch. You rub it between two fingers, pensive, until Hotch appears from the house. He looks severe and solemn as usual when he opens the car door and climbs inside. 

"Tell me if you can't do this," he says. He never beats around the bush. You wish that he would. 

"I don't know." 

"I need a yes or no." 

You're screaming at yourself to say yes. Hotch stalls with his hand poised at the ignition, waiting for your answer before he turns the key. If you say no, I can't do this, he'll take you back to the room. You know he won't hold it against you because he'd tried to persuade you to take more time off, as much as you needed. 

Being alone reminds you too much of your abduction. You hate how you can't stop thinking about it. At work, at home. What if this is it? This is the only thing you're going to think of for the rest of your life. 

Unless you can get some new memories. 

"I can do this." 

"I know that. Do you know that?" he asks firmly. 

You lean your head back against the headrest and turn your face to look at him fully. You hadn't been expecting any praise, any softness. You're fucking up on a time-sensitive case — he should be reprimanding you. He should send you packing to Virginia. 

"I'm sorry," you say softly.

"For what?" he asks. His eyebrows pinch up at the starts, his lips curve into a frown. 

It's startling to see so much emotion on his face on the job; Aaron Hotchner has a switch. He comes to work and he turns off everything that doesn't help the case. Only on rare occasions do you get to see him as a friend — his laughter over group dinner dates, his gentle smiles when he'd kept you company in the hospital. 

"For being- For being disorganised," you explain choppily. It is not the right word. 

He turns the key and reverses out of the parking space before speaking. "You are an asset to this team. If you can't be an asset right now, that's fine. If you need to go home-" 

"I don't need to go home." 

He doesn't seem offended at being interrupted. "Your wellbeing is more important than your effectiveness as a profiler. But you can't get in the way." 

"I won't." 

"I know you won't. Just…" He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dials a number. He's not looking at you when he finishes, "Calm down. Stay present. We need you with us." 

You turn your face to the window so he can't see your smile. He hasn't been this nice to you since your birthday. 

—

The thirty six hour mark comes to pass quickly and you find yourselves no closer to a positive ID on the unsub or their location. Any leads you follow dry up, witnesses won't cooperate, nobody has slept properly (besides yourself), and the boy's parents are hysterical. Hysterical and an irritant. 

You can hear them arguing with Hotch and the police chief in the other room. 

"You look amazing," JJ says tiredly. You can't tell if her annoyance is genuine or not. 

"Did you sleep?" you ask. 

JJ looks amazing herself despite what she might say, all perfect skin and lovely blonde hair like a moving sheet of silver-gold. You revere her pretty thin sweater with poorly hidden envy as she yawns and stretches against her straight-backed chair. 

"I slept. Bed was about as comfy as this chair," she says ruefully. 

"Ninety percent of all abduction victims are killed within the first thirty-six hours," Hotch says as he enters the room, in what Morgan would call his drill sergeant's drawl. "Every hour past that point, the percentage increases." 

Everybody in the room knows that statistic. His passive aggressive reminder serves to electrify a dozing Reid and a slumped Prentiss, both of which sit up in their chairs and pretend to be busier than they are as he makes his way into the room.

"Actually," Reid whispers to you, voice rough with fatigue, "the math isn't that simple." 

"Do you want to explain it to me?" you whisper back. 

You can't admit to really truly listening to Reid's explanation. You want him to feel heard even when you don't have the capacity for it, so you nod and hum as he explains, heads bent together as the rest of the team trade new theories. He talks surprisingly quickly for all his fatigue, and before you've realised it he's talking about something new. 

"Reid," you intrerupt gently, "can I ask you a question?" 

"Go ahead." 

You look up. Everyone seems too busy to be listening to you. You take what semblance of privacy you can and push your chair an inch closer. 

"Do you think I've been an efficient agent these last two days?" 

He juts his head forward. "You've been distracted. Tired, unfocused. But your insight on the unsub's age and what you said about her propensity for regret are both incomparable parts of the profile." 

"But easily something someone else would've suggested?" 

"Not necessarily." He smiles at you, a mirthful quirk. "Psychologically, the effect that working a case so close to your own trauma," — you bite your tongue in surprise — "would render the average person prone with memory. It also gives you a thought pattern that not everybody else would have." 

"You have it." 

"Let's focus on the behaviour pattern," Hotch says. 

You'd agreed to run point today. Or rather, Hotch had said, "L/N, you'll run point," and you hadn't argued. After all, yesterday had been telling on how much you can handle. Crime scenes are a no go. 

Not that there's any crime scene left to analyse. Your team have spent hours and hours trying to draw blood from stone. The case hadn't felt so impossible on the jet, and now… 

"I'm benched," you murmur. 

"You're not benched," Morgan says, which is irksome because you'd been talking to Reid. "If you were benched you'd be back in Virginia typing up my paperwork." 

"She doesn't care about the crime scene, she doesn't care about the crime itself. There's nothing in it for her besides making a statement. So why take a hostage with no ransom, no instruction? Why tell us you have a hostage and cut communication?" 

You rub your eyes at Reid's questions and find you have no theories to offer. You have nothing. 

"Work the problem," you mumble to yourself. "Work the problem. Where would she go?" 

She cut that boy from hip to hip. She killed him quickly after rather than leave him in pain, but she disembowelled him for the statement it would make. For the… mess? 

You feel off-kilter enough to stand. You weave through people and hesitate in front of Hotch where he's reading over the timeline, waiting for his face to turn before you talk. 

"Hotch," you say tentatively, "what if she's like… an arsonist? Disemboweling is messy. The blood was still wet when we got here two days later, and it ruined the floor." 

He thinks for a second. "Her escalation from a private mess to a public one would make sense."

"We thought the pathway from murder to taking a hostage was a step backwards, but what if it's not about the murder at all, it's about the blood?"

"It's common for arsonists to suffer paternal violence," Reid chimes in. "Could explain the unsub targeting men with outward misogynistic attitudes." 

You turn to find the whole team looking at you, a familiar drive on each of their faces. 

They rebuild the profile. Reid fiddles with what you've said, they specify, they redirect. 

Your moment of clarity dissolves quickly but you try to help as they move on to possible locations. If the unsub wants to make a scene, light a metaphorical fire, there are plenty of places she can do it this weekend. 

Surprise surprise, Garcia confirms a 'men's rights' rally happening in around two hours, and suddenly everybody's in motion. Hotch lists instructions and the team disperses. You've done it all a hundred times before, Hotch quadruple that, Rossi octuple.

"L/N," Hotch says. 

You lift your face to his. 

He's really quite close. 

"Do you want to stay here?"

You take note of his wording. Do you want to stay here? 

His phone is already in his hand. You don't wanna waste anymore of his time. You're pretty useless during movements anyways. 

"Is that okay?" you ask. 

He doesn't say yes or no, his head doesn't give the slightest nod or shake. His eyebrows remain in their usual pushed down position. "Expand the profile. Make sure we haven't missed anything." In case the unsub isn't where you think. 

And then he leaves. 

You take your seat at a now hastily vacated table and spend an hour on the laptop with Garcia. She's mostly at the beck and call of the rest of the team, but it's nice to listen to her clicking away. 

She hangs up when the team are about to storm the rally venue and things get difficult. 

You'd passed all your psych evaluations to return. You can be an effective agent. You can work. 

You know all of this. 

It won't stick. 

You don't have a clue how long you spend staring at the table when your phone starts to ring. "Morgan?" you ask, pressing the screen to your cheek. 

"Hey, sweetheart, we got her. And Paul, safe and sound. You ready to go home?" 

"Uh," you say, trying to understand what he's said. "I'm not sure." Your migraine is coming back. 

When a person gets dehydrated your head starts to pound. It's like a heartbeat, a pulsing ache at the base of your skull and your temples. 

You know that it's all in your head, but ever since you got back you've been victim to what feels like a hundred headaches. 

Your head hurts, and you look at the floor and suddenly the floor isn't the dull blue carpeting of the police station, but the plywood of your unsub's warehouse. 

"Are you there?" 

"Morgan, I don't feel well," you say. Your mouth is full of cotton. 

"What?" 

You cast your gaze around the room. 

You leave your phone on the table, unsure if you've hung up, and make your way out of the conference room they've delegated to the BAU. You're in two minds. You know where you are, and who you are, but you feel like you're back there. The walls look like the police station walls but the floor looks like the base plywood of the warehouse. 

I'm just thirsty, you think. When you'd been kidnapped you'd become dehydrated somewhere between the fourth and fifth day, and that had come with some minor auditory and visual hallucinations. Dark spots in your peripherals shaped mildly like people, murmurings that could've been the cicadas. Right now, there's a low pitched ringing in your ears. I'm dehydrated. I'm fine. I need a drink, and I'll be okay. 

You don't have the facilities to smile at the people you pass, easing your way through officers and into an empty break room. There's nobody here. 

You round the table in the middle of the room and move to the cabinets and the sink basin. You take a mug into shaking hands and turn the faucet on. 

The water is frigid and soon your fingers are like ice. You part them in the stream, watching the water worm down your palms and wet the cuffs of your sleeves. 

"Agent L/N, is everything okay?" 

You turn with a smile, ready to assuage any fears, but it's her. 

It's obviously not her. It's not her, but she looks like her. Same face, same hair. You turn back to sink and fill your mug. 

"Agent L/N?" 

"Please," you say quietly. 

"Agent L/N?" 

"Detective, would you excuse us?" 

His voice. Your shoulders relax just enough to ease the ache in your neck. You hear the woman depart, but you're disorientated enough to ask, "Is she still here?" 

"She's not here." 

“She looked-“ like her. You press your wet hands to the bottom of the sink. It's silver and covered in scratches, a thousand scratches that glow white with the fluorescents. "I don't think I should be here," you mumble. 

"I think you're overwhelmed." 

"I am." You cringe at the numbness spreading up your arms. "I don't know how to make it go away." 

Hotch isn't just your boss. He's a father. He was a husband. He knows how to comfort somebody and he's proven that to you already, but you're still surprised when he pulls your hands out of the sink. He holds both in one palm while he turns off the faucet, and then he tears off a wad of paper towels and starts to dry your fingers. 

"You're not in any danger here," he says, turning your hands palm up. "There are a wall of people out there who would stand in front of you. Nothing is going to happen to you." 

Despite his careful reassurances you're curling in on yourself, trying to hide. You don't want to be here. You're not sure where you want to be. You have the self-awareness to know you're being awful, that this is embarrassing, and you've put Hotch in a position he likely doesn't want to be in, too.  

You blink at his chest. "Where's your suit jacket?" you ask. Your voice sounds far away in one ear and too loud in the other. 

"I left it in the car," he says lightly. "We just got back from the rally. You were waiting for us here." 

"I didn't go." 

"No. You haven't been at your best." 

"I'm trying." 

"I know," he says softly, thumbs rubbing over your warming fingers. "I know you are. You're doing really well. Why don't we sit down?" 

You let him lead you backward into a hard-backed chair. He doesn't sit with you, but he doesn't let go of your hands. They're limp in his and smaller, colder. 

You think he might be the only thing keeping you here. 

"I've never been that scared before. I've had a… gun to my head and… it wasn't even her-" You choke on it. "Her. She hurt me and it wasn't even the worst part." 

He frowns down at you. "What was the worst part?" 

You let your fingers unfurl across his open palm. He pulls your hands to his chest, sandwiches them between his own hands and his crisp white shirt. His tie feels silky soft. 

"I didn't want to be alone. I," — you close your eyes and press your chin to your chest, hiding, always hiding — "knew I wasn't going to last long by myself. I could see that bottle of water on the table and I couldn't reach it and I just kept waiting for somebody to open the door and pass it to me, and I was so scared that nobody was ever going to do that.

"I close my eyes and- and I see it. I see the wood flooring, and I see the table. I can't remember anything that she said to me anymore, but I remember thinking you weren't ever coming to get me." 

You can see the way the light from a crack in the corrugated roof had lit the water bottle up like a lamp. You barely have to think about it and the image of it is there. Your mouth had ached.

You can see him if you try a little harder. The door flying open. Hotch in his vest with his hair falling onto his forehead, a gun in one hand and a flashlight held high in the other. His broad, quick sweep, and then the way he'd leapt for you. His voice, shouting, screaming instructions. You can feel his hand behind your head, his fingers pushed roughly into your hair. 

"You're okay," he'd said. 

You trust him with your life. You've never had cause to doubt him. But you hadn't believed him then, and you're not sure you do now. 

His expression changes slowly. He moves both of your hands into one of his own and squeezes them reassuringly as he cups your cheek. It's a quick touch, a half-second of contact. 

"You made a mistake, in that case," he says, hand moving from your cheek to the hill of your shoulder. 

You tamp down a wince. "Yeah." He's being generous. You'd made hundreds of mistakes. Every opportunity to save yourself wasted. 

"Your mistake," he says, holding your eye, his voice gritty with severity, "was thinking I wouldn't find you.”

He turns to a blur the longer you stare at him, panicked tears welling up with nowhere to go. You tip your head forward so he can't see them, and he steps closer in turn, ushering your face into his abdomen. 

His hand falls to your trembling back. 

"That was your only error. You did everything else right." 

Your tears come thick and fast. Hotch doesn't baulk. 

—

You agree to take some more time off. 

Realistically, you can't be an effective agent or a reliable member of the team whilst smothered in memories as you are. You don't take it personally when Hotch insists, as he takes great care to explain to you what's happening. 

This isn't a punishment. You need more time. 

You're a safety risk. Not that your consultation isn't valuable, it is, you're still a good profiler — an amazing profiler, if your team are to be believed — but you're in the aftershocks of a traumatic event. 

A wound can't heal if it's being picked at. 

"He said that?" you ask quietly, bed sheets upto your chin. 

Hotch's voice rings scratchy with tiredness down the line, "He said you can have all of the blue ones." 

"He's generous. He gets that from his dad." 

"He's much kinder than I am." You hear a small voice on the other end, and then a muffled, "Yeah, g-man, I'll tell her. I'll tell her right now. Okay. Y/N?" 

"Yeah, still here." 

"Jack says," he recounts, parent tone in play that tells you his son is nearby, "that you can have all the blue and all of the green band-aids, if you need them." 

You stare up at the white plaster ceiling of your apartment, a tiny smile playing on your lips. 

"Tell him I said thank you. I'm sure they'll make me all better in no time." 

He tells Jack what you've said. You hear his lovely voice saying something too quiet. "What was that?" Hotch asks him. 

"I said," Jack says, voice close to the receiver, "she just needs a kiss because they always make me feel better." 

"I've been getting lots of kisses!" you promise him, turning to look at your nightstand. 

Propped up proudly is a picture of you and your team in that restaurant in Las Vegas, where Reid hadn't been able to use his chopsticks, and where Hotch had laughed so loudly you'd felt your heart skip twice. It's surrounded by a sea of 'Get Well Soon' cards, and backdropped by a small bouquet of sweetpeas. 

Tell me when they wilt, Reid had said. And I'll get you another bunch. It's been proven that flowers have a long term positive effect on moods. People who received flowers regularly reported less agitation, less depression, and an overall sense of satisfaction. 

Beside the sweetpeas, in pride of place, is a handmade card from none other than Jack himself, though the message inside was penned by an older hand. 

"I'm well looked after," you say, smiling softly. 

"You're well loved," Hotch adds. 

That, too. 

༺༻

again, im not that used to writing hotch so despite my character study he may feel a little ooc that's my bad, hard to show him pining bc he's such a professional at work. thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging i promise it means so much to me ♡

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whoa you like Nuada too? I can’t pass this up! Can you please write Nuada with a reader who is cheerful individual? I like grumpy x sunshine ships 😆 I feel he wouldn’t know how to go about it and more confused when he falls for reader (Gender neutral pls)

Of course I like Nuada anon! How could I not?! I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.🦦 also this is long as shit. I got carried away…no I won’t apologise.

Nuada first heard of you whilst being held captive at the BRPD through Nuala, whom had met you earlier that day through your mutual love of literature. And according to his sister you were a bright, bubbly, happy and warm individual who made her feel welcomed and included the moment she came to the Bureau; even going so far as to gift her with a poetry book with a cerulean blue cover.

It was actually a personal possession of yours but due to never haven gotten to read it, you had decided that it would serve Nuala far better than it ever did you. Nuala naturally refused to accept it but, you were persistent that she’d have it as you would rather have it be well loved and read than sitting on a cold, lonely shelf collecting dust.

‘They’re such a delight to talk to brother.’ Nuala began, clutching the poetry book with the cerulean cover close to her chest as though it were a priceless treasure, which to her it very much was.

‘They’re human dear sister, this persona they’ve put on is probably a trick, an illusions of sorts to lure you into a false sense of security.’ Nuada warns, not as trusting towards humanity as Nuala was. Giving? Warm? Welcoming? These were traits that the elven prince would’ve never associated with humans. Ever. It just sounded too far fetched to think that such a kindhearted and selfless person could ever have existed. Nuada only knew humanity for their glutinous greed, so such simple acts of kindness as gifting someone a poetry book, would do very little to change his perspective on the entirety of mankind.

Nuala frowns. ‘You haven’t even met them and yet you refuse to give them a fair chance. I understand your grievances towards humans but all I ask of you, dear brother, is that you learn to trust one, even if that one happens to be y/n.’ Nuala pleaded with Nuada, holding out on a spark of hope that with your influence, Nuada’s heart will no longer be veiled in shadows. Nuala truly believed that if anyone could come close to doing just that, it would be you, she just knew it.

Nuada merely scoffs at the notion his sister has in you being the one to unveil his heart of the pain and suffering. While he may have once bended to his twins every plea, this was one he could not find himself willingly doing so and the look upon Nuala’s face told him that she was very much made aware of that fact and wordlessly left.

Nuada wouldn’t get to experience you in your entirety until the BRPD decided that Nuada was trusted to head out on missions as your partner, they too also had some inclination that your bright and sweet persona would not only run off on Nuada but also soften his resolve against all of humanity; an request that would take a lot out of you.

‘You must be Prince Nuada. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.’ You said, barely able to contain your excitement at finally being given a partner. Sure the stories you’ve heard about the elven prince were…less then enlightening, framing him as an angry and vengeful being incapable of change, but the ones you’ve heard from Nuala however painted Nuada as a somewhat tragic figure.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother smile, if he even smiled at all.’ Nuala would say as a saddened look came across her face before she looked over at you when you abruptly grabbed her hand, face set in serious determination.

‘I’ll try and get him to smile more for you.’ You said.

‘It’s an impossible feat.’ Nuala counters but you weren’t having any of it.

‘Then I’ll just keep trying until I do, no matter how long that may take.’ You replied, staying strong to your conviction.

‘Why. Why would you go out of your way to do something for someone you barely even know?’ Nuala asked, feeling your strength, determination, heart and more theough just holding your hand alone. It was overwhelming of hoe bright you were that Nuala swore she would soon be blinded by your light alone, however it was because of your power of will that gave her hope, hope that you’ll might just do what she had long since believed to be impossible.

You merely smiled and relied with, ‘because even the strongest of us deserve to smile and like you said, you don’t remember the last time that you’ve seen your brother smile. So leave that to me and I promise to have Nuada smiling soon.’

And you always meant your promises. Always. What you wasn’t expecting was how handsome Nuada actually was. No one had bothered to tell you prior that your partner was a true beauty. A beauty with a piercing set of golden eyes and desirably soft, silky hair that fell past his shoulders in a platinum blonde waterfall. He held an air about him that made you both nervous and excited, however you had to quickly remind yourself that he wasn’t going to warm up to you nearly as quickly as you’d hoped.

Nuada on the other hand was immediately blindsided by your personality. It was so vibrant, colourful and filled to the brim with radiant life that he was certain that he looked rather dull and lifeless in comparison. It also looked as though his sister was right about many things in regard to your character, however that didn’t warrant Nuada to immediately start trusting you like she had wished for, after all you were still a human at the end of the day.

‘I’m-‘

‘Y/n. I’m aware.’ Nuada cuts you off abruptly before you could properly introduce yourself.

You made a face. ‘How-‘

‘My sister speaks highly of you,’ you began to smile at that but Nuada wasn’t finished, ‘but I have yet to witness what’s so special about you.’ You merely shrugged and answered with your entire chest. ‘You will soon enough. I promised your sister to get you to smile after all.’ Nuada’s brows raised at this but before he could get you to elaborate on that further, it was already time to head out for your first mission as a partnership.

Your first mission had turned out to be an avid success that it would only stand to reason to keep sending you and Nuada out as a team. You worked extremely well together and your fighting styles complement each others, while also concealing any weak spots that the other may have almost seamlessly. You and Nuada both complement missions in quick and swift succession. That was out in the field however, the way you acted towards Nuada afterwards made him feel a weird warmth within his chest.

You would often note of how Nuada fell a good distance behind everyone else after group missions, and so you would then fall to the back of the group also -not wanting him to be alone- before naturally falling into step with him, all the while still adhering to giving him his own personal space. You didn’t force a conversation with him like he expected you to, but instead allowed a calming silence to befall the pair of you as you headed home; Which was something he was oddly grateful to you for as he wasn’t that much of a conversationalist after battle.

However he couldn’t help but wonder why you were putting in so much effort into him. He hated your kind and yet you’ve treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. You didn’t push his boundaries, you didn’t overstay your welcome but even long after you left his side, Nauda could still feel your lingering warmth within every breeze that passed him by. Nuada just didn’t get why you were so hellbent on your promise to his sister, was it truly that important for you to help fulfil Nuala’s wish? And if so, what was it that she had said at the time for you that solidified your need to see it through film the end?

While Nuada had to admit, it was quite admirable that you kept to your word but some days he couldn’t help but question whether if that was your sole reason for sticking so close to him. Whether or not he’d ever confront you about it was his to debate upon later, but as for now he decided against it; His pride would never allow him to indulge in such thoughts and ideations that weren’t remotely relevant to hating humans.

Nuada had also noticed that after being your partner for a while, he had developed a need to protect you from all harm. At first he thought that if you died on a mission, the fault would fall onto him and he would be put back into confinement until further notice, but he soon learned that wasn’t actually the case; Far from it actually that he soon found himself sitting across from his sister to discuss about it.

‘Sounds like you have grown fond of y/n, brother.’ Nuala had said, smiling as she relishes in the times that Nuada obviously expressed interest in you without knowing it, but luckily that’s when the link they share makes situations like these a whole lot more simpler to navigate.

‘I merely find them more tolerable than others.’ Nuada defends, crossing his arms over his chest, still heavily in denial that anything he felt for you could possibly go beyond the realms of being cordial with one another. Yet that didn’t explain the sting in his chest whenever you were as joyful and excitable with anyone who wasn’t him, almost as though he wanted you to only beam that bright for him and him only.

‘Then why do you feel at peace with them near? Has their light finally unveiled your heart?’ Nuala asked and this time Nuada stayed silent for a longer period of time as he was beginning to realise that yes, you did infect have unveiled his heart from the shadows he cast over it. What scared him however was how you had done it. You constantly showed him patience during the times where he needed it, showed him understanding when he talked about his feelings, something he hadn’t done as much before meeting you; you even showed him solidarity for the times where he needed someone to stand by his side.

You had changed Nuada’s way of life in small but meaningful ways that there came a day where he starts to hate the fact that he had come this far without the gentle guidance of your voice for him to follow unto a better path. However despite acknowledging that you play a pivotal part in his current life, doesn’t mean that made Nuada’s understanding of his feelings any clearer than they were when he first discovered them.

‘They make me feel things I’d never thought I’d feel again Nuala.’ He began, knowing that whatever he said to his sister would be kept solely between them. ‘I’ve been lost admits my need for revenge that even the fluttering in my chest, or the warmth that reaches my cheeks feels foreign to me now.’ He adds, taking the time to remember the first time he felt something towards you that wasn’t explicit hatred for being human. ‘It feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time and I can’t help but become addicted of sorts, that whenever they smile at me-‘

‘You hope that they smile at you like that forever.’ Nuala interrupts her brother softly, already quite well acquainted either that feeling from the times she felt Nuada’s emotions through the link.

‘Yes.’ Nuada said in an almost whisper. ‘I wish to be the reason y/n smiles as much as they are mine.’ Nuala couldn’t help but express her happiness for this new stage of Nuada’s life, all she wanted was for her brother to be happy and she was made even happier at the fact that it was you who made him the happiest he’s ever felt in a long time.

‘We shall get through this together brother.’ Nuala reassured, feeling her brothers’ still prevalent confusion, making Nuada look back at her, ‘then soon everything else will fall into place. You just have to put faith in the hope that y/n will be there to catch you when you fall.’

Nuada was still confused about everything but with hi sisters help, he hopes to surely get a clearer understanding of what he was currently feeling before confronting you about it.

[dunmeshistash]

Any thoughts on Mickbell and/or Kuro? They're honestly some of my faves and it's hard to find stuff on them T_T

Many thoughts!

They both have had rough backgrounds and suffered a lot so they have this co-depedant relationship that while they pretend like its "Boss and Bodyguard" they cleary care deeply about it each other.

I love how responsible and down to earth Kuro is compared to how we see him in the series. As someone whose first language isn't english I can relate to sounding way less smart when speaking in your second language lmao. Now I'm much better but when I just started I sounded really silly, and even today some people have the "are you stupid" reaction when I don't know a word that should be obvious or misspell things, I understand you Kuro 😔

Honestly a nice reminder that language proficiency is not an indicator for intelligence, wish it was more obvious in the anime/story itself since every time Kuro speaks to Kabru in Kobold is in an extra.

Oh yeah also fun fact Milsiril was the one to teach Kabru how to speak Kobold. Its implied in an extra. While they come from the same continent I doubt Kabru would know kobold just for that.

About Mickbell its very interesting how he's the complete opposite of chilchuck, he LOVES being treated as a kid and doesn't seem to have much of a pride

It's hard to remember how old he is because he's so childish, it's a great choice for a half-foot after we had only met Chilchuck if you ask me. Cause even adults in real life can be childish sometimes, the fact he also LOOKS like a child to us makes it even harder to see him as the adult he is, you can't keep getting away with things by being cute Mickbell <3 (he can).

Also his dream is to buy a house for him and Kuro, I don't think there's any doubt their relationship is based in mutual affection, even if Mickbell pretends he's Kuro's boss (and that he should be more respectfull), they're both the only one the other has when it comes to family.My thoughts

[sharkiethrts]

short prompt: dancing and singing ('vulgar', as sunday would call it) songs with sunday

relations: sunday x reader, robin mentioned at the end!

Notes: modern au. Highschool prom au? You can interpret this however- even Sunday going to a club for the first time (how did you convince him, even?) Nevermind, maybe a house party is more fitting? Sunday doesn't have his wings here since it's supposed to be modern au. Did not reread this by the way, so grammatical errors wouldn't be surprising.

warnings: borderline suggestive??? to be honest, it's just the lyrics of 'california girls' that you should be worried about haha Reader is gender neutral by the way (but if there is any insinuated of gender in the story I may have missed, please correct me!)

-------------

Walking into the crowded room, the blaring music and the rising temperature caused by the throng of students accumulating in one spot overtakes you. You try to stand on your tiptoes, eyes squinting to gauge how far you are from your goal- the dancefloor. You're far. Like, remarkably far.

You had planned to enter much earlier, discarding your coat at the coat-rack placed not-so-meticulously at an inconvenient spot behind the door, yet your diligent partner just couldn't let it be. Although Sunday has tried to seem more laidback while he was courting you (as he'd call it, you tried to call it 'chase' once, while abbreviating the blooms of your love story to your friends at a housewarming party, but he cut you off rather curtly- claiming that it made him sound predatory- he seemed offended when you laughed at that).

Nevertheless, he went on to smoothing out both your coats, folding them (in a way you've only seen store employees do) carefully and then stuffing them into a bag he had brought. The bag is then hung carefully at the middle of the rack, careful to not trip the other clumsily placed jackets of your mutual friends (some unknown to you, you realise now- Jess has always been popular).

You swear that he would have done the same to the rest of the coats if it weren't for the fact you pulled him incessantly by his arm, shooting him pouting looks and an annoyed cry.

You shoot your partner a brief glare, he returns a confused look right back at you but not bothering to ask for further details- you do have quite the idiosyncrasy only belonging to you, he reasons. Your interaction is cut short by the switch of the songs. Sunday seemed rather disappointed, it had been Robin's newest song after all. But it seems that you two came in too late (you'd pity him if it weren't for him suffering from the consequences of his own actions).

You, however, are absolutely beaming. California Girls.

You pulled him by his sleeve (you're not quite sure why he chose a stiff button-up for this occasion, but then again- you don't think he has any other attire that'd be suitable for this), "You sing right?" You say over the noise.

"What?" He doesn't seem to hear.

"You sing! You told me before- you were in a choir!" You scream this time, he seems to understand now- shaking his head to refuse.

"Sippin gin and juice!" You ignore him, taking the lead. He shakes his head, saying something like how it's too 'vulgar' and how the 'lyrics are disrespectful and have objectifying undertones'. You roll your eyes, "Tryna creep a little sneak peek- At us!"

You encourage him more, flashing your most earnest look (you do feel rather earnest, the only time you've ever heard him sing was when you had a nightmare, he had hummed you to sleep- but other than that? Nothing else. No lyrics, no nothing. Since then, you have been rather adamant on pushing more out of him.

He seems to have been convinced (weak, you'd tease- if it weren't for the fact that Sunday is petty enough to never sing again just for that) and you wait for him to join in, "But nothing comes close to the golden coast," Your eyes gleam at the gentle tune of his voice, with an expertly tuned technique. He makes this song sounds holy, even.

"Once you party with us," You lead on, leaning in with a teasing push on your knees, your hands moving to grasp at his shoulders. He reciprocates by holding onto your back, completing your line, "You'll be falling in love"

Exhilarated by his concession, you let out an off tune and off time plethoras of 'oh's, to which he had laughed at- eyes wrinkled and head slightly thrown back- messing up his neatly combed long hair.

You grin. This was going to be a night.

You grip at his hand with your other, feeling the clammy surface of it. You realise he's nervous, baring his feelings like no other. He must be unfamiliar with the closeness of it all, with the downright sexual lyrics spilling out of his mouth at this point.

You lean in by his ear, breath hitting where he shivers.

"Sex on the beach," His cheeks bloom red- alongside with his ears that now look bruised in purple and red. He tries to pull back, definitely to scold you for your 'indecency'. You don't let him, ". We don't mind sand in our stilettos."

By the end of the night, you forgot your coats at the rack, walking home singing your surfeit of Katy Perry songs.

You remember to film a clip of Sunday belting the lyrics of 'Last Friday Night'. To which you sent to Robin, where she responded with long series of questions.

Funny, to think that you had been to shy to ever talk to her before this. Where she had given you her phone number when Sunday had first introduced you in a cafe. You had thought that she was just exchanging polite platitudes, to which Sunday refuted that Robin had been genuinely lonely.

With her excited response, you finally start to believe him.

'Send me more! You have more, right?!' to 'Where were you? Invite me next time! We should go together!"

You grin, it's the next morning (scratch that, it's one) and your feet are sore from the dancing (Sunday had spun you around once, you think he told you- 'it's my rendition of the galopede of the 1820s').

You call her, to which she picks up immediately, "He vomited the moment we came home," Was the first thing you said.

She understood you immediately, "He drank?"

"Vodka. Even took his part in games- won his first note, I'd wager."

You spent the whole afternoon recounting the night to her, to which she swooned and battered you up for more.

"Ah." You paused for a second.

"What is it?!" By this point, Robin has forgotten about her upcoming rehearsal in fifteen, to which she always comes thirty minutes early. She missed that mark fifteen minutes ago.

"I think we may have left our coats at Jess' house."

Robin completely lost it at that. So worth it.

[vampyrixdarling]

I LOVED YOUR ZOMBIE SONIC WRITING HSHDJF

Okay so Sonic with a reader that he caught feelings for, right ? But the thing was, they were a big bad meanie guy out for BLOOD. They liked Sonic too, but refused to change their villainous ways tehe

IM IN LOVE Q THIS IDEA

HCs or a one shot is fine >:)))

— 「𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧」

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MASTERLIST

╰┈➤ Sonic the Hedgehog x villain!reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis; Sonic never could’ve predicted that he’d be falling for the same person who would actively endanger his home and his friends. But it happened. Mutual pining with slight rivalry mixed in with playful fighting, who’s to complain?

: ̗̀➛ Type; romantic headcanons

: ̗̀➛ warning(s); brief mentions of fighting (not detailed), swearing.

Likes/Reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

I’m like honestly SO embarrassed of the quality of this😭 please let this slide Orion I am BEGGING🙏🙏 my writing is normally SO MUCH BETTER I SWEAR

→ Sonic is someone who prides himself on being able to save his world from any threat that dares try to destroy it or hurt his friends or innocent people. He’s a hero, and he’s proud to call himself one. Sure, the praise and the fame that comes with it is cool and all, but all Sonic really cares about is saving all that he can, and taking down evil. He doesn’t need a reward for just doing what he loves. Hell, he’d even get to hangout with his friends just talking about the fight he had, and try some of Amy’s delicious deserts of course. Except if it was strawberry shortcake. He’d stay far away from that if he could.

→ You, on the other hand, were just another villain. You found a kind of sadistic joy in the misery of other people— a sick satisfaction from watching all those below you suffer a terrible fate at your hands. It’s always been this way for as long as you could remember, really. There wasn’t a moment you truly felt happy. No moment where you truly felt complete. And maybe, just maybe, causing pain and suffering to those undeserving made you feel just a little better about the dull, boring life you had. Something like the phrase, “if I can’t be happy, nobody can”, as much as you hated it.

→ But, nobody could deny the slight excitement you felt when the blue blur himself stood in your path, eyes locked on yours as he got ready to attack. A fight with him was never boring, that much was guaranteed. and perhaps you felt the same way, unfortunately you’d never get to finish your thought before he spin-dashed into you, sending you flying into the nearest wall.

“Ugh, come on, [Name]… haven’t we been over this once before?”

“Three times, actually. Learn to keep track.”

The hedgehog rolled his eyes as he sped towards you again. Meanwhile, with a cocky grin on your face, you shakily got up.

→ Sonic would feel extremely conflicted and confused. On one hand, you were everything he hated. Someone who felt joy in causing terror and harm upon those he cared for. But, on another hand, there was an undeniable chemistry between you guys. None of you would ever admit that, though.

→ He hated how felt this way about you. He shouldn’t feel anything like this for any of his enemies. But, there was also this one flaw about him. The fact that he’s willing to give second chances and hope for the best. He does see the good in you, no doubt about it. It’s just that you’re being so damn difficult, he wish you’d just give up.

→ But you weren’t oblivious to this. You saw how the hedgehog briefly hesitated before landing a punch to you. You saw how his eyes lit up once he realized you weren’t dead from that landing. And, a part of you felt pity for him. You realized how hard this was for him, to hurt someone he’s grown to love, and you really wished you wouldn’t care. But you did.

Because you loved him too.

→ None of you took the realization well. You both hated each other for feeling this way, and while you both tried to separate from each other, you just kept coming back. You both would swear it’s because you’re causing trouble and Sonic’s just trying to save everyone, but you both knew it was different. But one day, during a pretty heated fight..

“Why can’t you just let me do what’s best for you, [Name]?!”

“This isn’t what’s best! You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know that I love you!”

…

Oh.

Oh..

→ Once the awkwardness was out of the way, and you two were finally able to confront each other… you got it all out. You both had a talk about how you really felt. He expressed his concerns, and you voiced your clear distain towards leaving your villainous ways. Which, he understood. He hated how you refused to stop, but you just wouldn’t listen to him. So after negotiating, you agreed to slightly tone down your attacks. Which wasn’t much, but at least you weren’t killing anybody.

Bonus: He’d LOVE chasing after you and getting into so many playful fights with you while you’re attacking the town. It would be so fun and exciting for the both of you.