#GHOST JUST WANNA HAVE SOME BONDING TIME-

[gomzdrawfr]

continuing my lotr brainrot but this is more like just them cosplaying for fun

[hexxter]

Ok but what if Ephemer’s and Player’s hearts are like literally connected (really really literally)

Maybe like, small pieces of each other heart being traded, or i guess other magical ways

So if the theory of Sora being the third reincarnation of the player.. (even tho I don’t like this theory cause both deserves to have their heart, specifically Sora with his heart hotel moments)

Maybe thats how Ephemer soul showed up in KH3? Cause the connection to player that stayed within Sora, this theory pretty common right?

And if thats works one way, could also go the other way no?

Ephemer summoning the Player’s soul with the hearts connection. Maybe even unintentionally, suddenly poof the player is there as a ghost!

Sounds like interesting angst. Maybe thats would be also like.. why the player took pretty long to reincarnated to missing link area cause Ephemer was still around so Player’s soul tied up to his heart.

[syluses]

love is a bitch

sylus x female reader

sylus will tolerate your tantrums if you insist on having them- but he’ll have to address them somehow, too.

▻ cw. smut, noncon elements, implied kidnapping, breeding if you squint, sylus is soft but the consent is still very dubious, 18+ characters, dark/yandere content, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome

▻ notes. no explanation tbh. its around like 6k words i think.. with SEEMINGLY minimum plot but sylus is so whipped for mc. like truly whipped. this dynamic has a very special place in my heart its like canon to me. i wanna make a dragon sylus fic next… maybe another caleb one OR do a siren! raf thing. hope the girlies enjoy this <3

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 (๑´ `๑)♡

You’re stubborn, tonight.

Between two days spent enduring your mean cold shoulder and the precious vase you threw to the ground, sending it sprawling in a million bits across the floor that Sylus fears will end up lodged in your feet, he’s a little emotionally-charged as well.

Sylus has never been one to bend over, no- his two most reliable henchmen are there for that, and they do it gladly. But there is something about you that makes him stick his neck out time and time again… So, without a word, just a resigning glance thrown your way, he lowers himself to a crouch and sweeps the glass shards into a dustpan.

Love will do that to you, he supposes with the ghost of an obliging grin.

It’s not in his nature to roll belly-up, but he’ll meet you halfway somewhere on his side.

It’s not the first time he bent a knee for you, anyway, and certainly won’t be the last. Still, Sylus holds abundant self-awareness and knows this is more than a bad look for him; fortunately, his weak spots only ever reveal themselves in the privacy of his manor’s walls where you hold it down in his absence.

The twins- Luke and Kieran- they won’t enter your bedroom, not tonight, regardless if there’s a mess or not. Onychinus’s leader has plans for you and no intentions of allowing any interuptions. With a watchful eye trampolining between the fragments underfoot and your rounded shoulders as you curl up to the headboard and tremble, Sylus decides he can handle this little issue fine enough himself.

With a set jaw, he trawls through the glittering pieces until his gaze darts to something particularly shiny.

He lets out a breath.

…So you did throw it out; Sylus wondered what you were fidgeting with behind your back moments before your sudden outburst, but it’s with a pang of startle- and hurt- that he unearths the nitid wedding ring buried beneath layers of geometric shards. Discarded no different than trash would be.

It’s not like he needs physical proof to boast your marriage— even strangers can spare one look at the two of you- the arm forever wrapped around your shoulder or middle, the possessive flair in his eyes paired with a doting, bottomless affection- and make the conclusion that some sort of intimacy runs deep there...

So no, some filed-down gemstone, dazzling as it may be, doesn’t determine your relationship. It certainly makes him feel good, though, to see it wrapped around your finger as a perfect match to his- a tangible token of your bond. It’s a beautiful reminder of you that he absently toys with throughout the evenings to the backdrop of a silent stopwatch, mentally counting down the seconds until he can return home to you.

It’s all the more reason to adorn you in pretty things, anyway. Jewelry and twinkling beads that clang loudly together no matter how quietly your feet fall.

And he likes that, to be fair- not to be superficial, but it’s one of his simpler joys, to pamper you like a princess in every sense of the word.

You don’t need to like it, to want for it; Sylus has always stared at you like you were the epitome of royalty. And royalty only deserves the best, doesn’t it?

He dresses you in fine silks that you slip out of as soon as he’ll allow, trading designer brands you can’t even name out in favor of one of his sweaters or shirts. Stood behind you, he’ll insist on threading dainty, flax chains around your neck, smiling softly in the reflection of the full-body mirror.

You never meet him in the eye, then, too put off by the delight that practically oozes off him as he spoils you rotten to look at him right.

Sometime later that night, his hand- large but always careful- will resume that chain’s place around your neck, and thumb over your pulse affectionately.

You never did find much use, or joy, in any of his glitzy expenditures.

If- If you’re being perfectly honest you’d much rather he buy you a ticket home. Maybe that’s the one wish of yours he’ll never bring life to, much less humor in the first place.

But you’re nothing if not persistent. Oh, sweetie, Sylus has been made abundantly aware of that fact. He takes it like water off his back, though: just another little quirk of yours to catalogue to memory and dote over.

His stubborn, precious girl.

Tonight, frustration reaches its zenith in you and you snap. Grow teeth and snarl in his face.

You don’t want to be angry— ugly— God knows you loathe what’s becoming of you, but your captor doesn’t leave many other options on the table.

You shriek when he tries to coax you towards the plush fur draped over the bed and he watches with a resigned sort of sorrow as you throw things off the coffee table and shout.

You scream your throat hoarse. You taste copper on your tongue as if you’ve been running. Maybe, the truth isn’t all that far off. A man like Sylus is something to run from; all sentient beings with a sense of self preservation, no matter how small, would take off on foot immediately.

There’s not many places you can run to, though. Not when there’s constant surveillance on you- iron-wrought gates and a damned bird that soars watchfully overhead if you so much as step into the courtyard.

Your tantrum lasts all of three minutes before you retreat to the nearest corner- Sylus’s lavish bed- and quietly lick your proverbial wounds.

He’s never hit you before, no, not physically, but he’s the kind of man to leave everything within his radius reeling sooner or later. Doesn’t matter where his loyalties lie. It will happen.

And, you know, he’ll treat you like you’re some exception to that rule- to his streak of cruelty and the chaos that he lets unravel around him- but you’re not. You’re really not and you just desperately wish he could see that—

“Talk to me, sweetie,” a low tone draws you from your reverie.

You don’t let your eyelids flutter open right away; you’re re-experiencing a vivid memory in your head- a sunny afternoon in Linkon with a warm hand woven in yours by the shore- and don’t want it to slip away just yet. It’s a comforting piece of your past you want to hold onto.

As pathetic as that may be, despite Sylus having all but birched your hope for rescue to a bloody pulp, you still look back on better days with bittersweet longing and pray someone will come and save you. If not them- your old buddies in the Hunters Association and your closer friends that Sylus has voiced a particular enmity to- then yourself. You want more than anything to save yourself, but it’s not like he gives much opportunity for that.

This is your home, now. It always was. He’s dogged in his attempts to prove it to you, purring in your ear while he fucks you slow and deep that he’ll take as long as it needs to convince you of that simple fact. It’s indisputable: you’re his.

You’ll… come around to it eventually, Sweetie.

Biting your tongue, you hold off on responding to him.

There was nothing to say, really- you’d already just screamed your throat raw and still it wasn’t enough to make him budge or even at least reconsider this awful arrangement he’d launched you into a number of months ago.

If you open your mouth, you tell yourself in a mix of childish bravery and cooling ire, sloped against the headboard defiantly, it’ll be to bite him. Certainly not talk to him. Especially not in any civil manner. You think he’s lost that right ages ago- the priviledge of your softness.

You hear him heave a faint sigh, but for the moment, he leaves it at that. “Okay, then,” he murmurs with a tinge of understanding that you hate, “You cool off, sweetie. Take slow, deep breaths. Lie down if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

You remain sat upright. One half of it is because you don’t quite feel safe going prone right now with adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, and the other half is for the sole purpose of spiting him.

Sometimes it feels like you can’t. Spite him, you mean. His wounded eyes, which resemble a kicked puppy’s to a shocking degree, are as rare as they are effective. You really shouldn’t harbor any capacity of guilt for the man, but you’re human. Glaringly human. And his forlorn little frowns after you’ve winced under his harmless pets or refuse to face him after he’s fucked you within an inch of your life and wants to curl up to you like some overgrown cat- they tug on a vulnerable part of you.

It’s- It’s not Stockholm Syndrome at all, or even the latent stirrings of it. It’s just— It’s just a basic human trait to feel, and…

You suppose that might be the one veritable thing he hasn’t quite ripped from you. Maybe more so for his benefit than yours.

After Sylus is done sweeping up your mess, he approaches the bed and caresses the blade of your shoulder. The movement is just barely hesitant, like he doesn’t want to send you flying five feet in the air with some violent flinch response. It’s happened before on more than one occasion.

You don’t know whether to count his caution as endearing, oddly sweet, or fucking maddening. Perhaps it’s a fair combination of all of that as well as sickening.

Your consolation that came in the form of a now distant memory peters out into heavy, intermittent throbs of your chest. Sadness thumping a gentle song. The smell of sea salt spraying up from the ocean fully wafts away as he brings a hand up to your forehead, gentle as ever, and guides you to turn to face him.

His own scent- a base amber with notes of vanilla underneath, in two words: warm and rich- replaces that. You draw it in in small, shallow breaths and feel it tingle behind the bridge of your nose.

Sometimes it comes like a precursor to his hands- something that’ll have you bracing for impact in fetal position. Other times, when he’e got your thighs pinned either side of your head and his cock delving in and out of your pussy, hitting so deep in your belly you think nothing will sate your appetite for days, it’s a dizzying smell.

Consuming and concentrated, rubbing off on you like a bad influence as he grabs and gropes and nips.

You hate to admit it (and don’t know how it got to this point) but on occasion, Sylus’s scent is even comforting.

You would never tell him that. In fear of it getting to his head, if nothing else.

His warmth tickles the shell of your ear, his lips peppering a chaste kiss to your shoulder as he settles in beside you. Your frenzied heart, just as it began to slow, begins to thump faster, but you remain otherwise composed. When he moves a hand to lift the blanket over you, fuzzy and stupid-expensive, you make a grunting sound and shove his wrist away.

Stubborn, Sylus thinks, and bold.

But his. His and perfect.

Behind you, his chest rumbles. He lets out a laugh, gentle and light, but you wonder if it’s the remnants of exasperation that’s interwoven in it. He nestles up at your back and curls a possessive hand around your middle, his other brushing some hair off your shoulder.

You’re not quite dumb enough to interfere with it this time. Or, for that matter, the glittering ring he puts on your finger- back to its rightful spot- and reverently slips down to the slim base of your knuckle.

“You’re not cold, kitten?” He mumbles at your ear, taking you in through slow, decadent breaths,”I guess you did work yourself up by a few degrees, huh?” The proximity used to raise the little hairs on the back of your neck, but he has dulled your fight-or-flight response considerably over the past handful of months.

Kudos to him, for that.

He’s not entirely wrong, though. Your cheeks still feel toasty with anger, your fingers twitching and unfurling by your lap as if to test your own mood.

“Are you…” he starts, contemplative, “still frustrated?”

…Are you still frustrated? You don’t know. Maybe just sad.

Everything you want you can’t have. Everything you want- your veritable livelihood- he’s plucked you out of no different than a mother would her errant puppy, by the scruff. With possessive teeth that latch on painlessly and say mine.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, before quickly remedying the part of you that grows anxious at admitting your own vulnerabilities to him- “yes. I’m upset.”

Sylus gives a little sigh.

Long fingers skim the column of your arm. He leaves behind small goosebumps and a warmth that somehow feels cold over your human flesh; a brush that tingles like a static shock.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, voice becoming oddly heavy. Breathy, rugged. And you wryly suppose the solution he offered is just so helpful, isn’t it?

The palm laced around your middle gradually slips downward, his hooked nose pressing into your jugular like he can smell the hot blood beneath and it’s appetizing, before a feeling of dread overtakes you.

Dread, and another feeling you don’t want to name— a thrill of excitement ghosting down your spine.

When he cups the seat of your panties, you shiver and revolt as if you’ve been burned.

“N-No—“

He’s ready for that, your… hesitance. His other arm, the one that doesn’t end nestled between your bare thighs, keeps you lassoed to him, his breath heavy at your collar. Growing more labored by the second.

He hushes you, using his cheek to stroke against your hair since his hands are otherwise occupied. You don’t give any more fight other than that- the violent flinch- but you remain stiff as a board as he notes your trembling with a genuine, deep frown. Furrowed, sad brows and all as if he actually has the fucking capacity to feel��sorry for something—

“It’s okay, kitten,” he breathes out, “Hush.” Four fingers deliver a series of slow, tantalizing rubs to your pussy, marking the beginning of his painless assault as his thumb toys with the waistband of your panties, and you shudder against your will.

You scramble to hold onto his thick forearm, straightening against him as he leisurely works you into a writhing, fiery mess. Your veins warm, but not out of anger- not anymore, at least. Traitorous flames sprout in the pit of your belly, fanning heat across your face— hot-blooded and filled with want over just a few of his touches.

Oh, you hate him.

“Just relax, loosen up. I’ll make you come,” he murmurs against your neck, laving the fleshy space there with amorous kisses.

Man with a mission. Man with a promise. If you know him, then you’ll know he keeps them.

He suckles gently at the sensitive skin before breaking off with a soft pop, a hot tongue lolling out to chase away the redness, rendering you speechless. Speechless and on the brink of forgetting just why exactly you loathe him so much— but a vestige of that repulsion remains, melancholic and weak, and you try one last time to push him away, throwing an ineffective elbow.

He glues his front to your back completely, locking your joints in place, and slips his fingers down your panties. His knuckles peek out from the lacy hem.

Sylus lets out a little groan when you call his name, shivering behind you.

He doesn’t care if you say it like it’s a perjorative or an invocation of some reprehensible, filthy spirit— if he had it his way, it’d sound coated in honey, but he’s learned to take what he can get with you. It still makes his cock throb beneath the white folds of his robe. In any case, it’ll sound real sweet soon enough, ringing out from your lips in pretty, gasping moans as you gouge your nails into his back.

Grudge him all you want, honey. He’ll make you shake and scream, tonight. Squash all the enmity you doggedly hold for him within the span of an hour with worshipful hands and concentrated, ardent thrusts that leave you with little choice but to take it and moan.

When your struggling stops altogether, Sylus takes ahold of your little hand and appreciatively thumbs over your ring finger. “What sort of husband would I be if I left you all hot and bothered, hm? A poor one,” he answers for you.

Gently, he maneuvers you onto your back and insinuates himself between your legs. His eyes are aflame. The look in them steals the last of your shivering breath, your heart doing a perfect backflip in your chest.

Ruby eyes flutter with passion, his pupils so big you can hardly spot the red glint as they dilate unevenly, his lashes dewy. He sucks in oxygen with short, winded intakes, his silvery hair- still slightly damp from his shower- falling over his brow. And to be fair that’s bunched together, too; all the little muscles in his face tight and strained as he lets out a clipped sigh.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers on his perusal. His gaze flits all over the place when he hoists shiny silk up your breast (tonight, a royal-blue negligee) and unwraps a stringy pair of panties from your legs.

“You’ll be good for me tonight, won’t you? Or is there any more… frustration you need to let out?”

The invisible apple of your throat bobs. You retain your silence.

He dryly comments, “I guess I owe you that.”

Sylus unties his robe, eyes glossy and intense.

He does so with an affected patience, knuckles moving ridiculously slow as he feigns autonomy over his own rampant emotions. You eye him with a misty desire as he does so, your hips giving an involuntary shimmy as you prepare for what’s to come.

Sylus grasps for the very last of his self-control like a beggar would the lavish tailcoats of passersby, but it’s all for naught. His fingers are shaking when he finally flips open his robe and shucks it from his broad shoulders. Oozing less confidence and more need than anything, the tips of his ears flushed a bright red that you don’t get to see often and nobody else gets to see at all.

He stoops over, then, laying his naked chest flat to your breasts.

“This,” he says, pinning your hand- the one with a flashy wedding band- onto the silky duvet and intwining your fingers with his. “This belongs, with you. So make a mess. Throw your fits and say those cruel things to try to get back at me, sweetie… But don’t ever take this off your ring finger, do you understand?”

He breaks off from your hickey-dotted neck to get a close look at you, pressing his forehead to yours. And right then you’re almost scared to look at him, an instinct existing deep in your gut saying you’ve just been taken into the maw of a big bad wolf— but his nose brushes with yours and he feels… human. Fleshy, warm. Shockingly vulnerable in the moment.

His hands that hold yours greedily are callous and big, sure- and you’ve seen firsthand the destruction they can raise- but they’re not clawed and malicious as they touch you. No, actually, they tremble with unbridled excitement at the opportunity to make you feel good.

And— And you hate him, y-you do.

Sylus cradles you close and nurses a few indulgent kisses from your lips, eating up every precious gasp you can’t stop from slipping in time.

Reluctantly, you return them all with budding desire.

“Do you understand?” He manages to heave out after a breathless moment. There’s no threat masquerading behind his candied words (no, he’s never been one to hold things over your head, surprisingly) but his timber is firm and meaningful. You have the implicit understanding that you must say yes- or, that’s your best option for the moment.

You look up at him and his eyes are wide, unblinking, not exactly the heavy-lidded picture you were expecting and had just witnessed mere moments prior.

And it’s a million things all in one— reverent and intense, enigmatic in its roots, you think, because you never could wrap your head around just what he saw in you and why, but he’s completely besotted. It brightly reflects in his eyes like chopped moonlight over calm waters- and you never once denied that. If you’re being honest, he made denying that- his very real, and unabashed feelings for you- an impossible task.

“Yes,” you mumble. “I understand.”

He seems contented, at that. Sighing and tempered.

He pants and nudges his brow to yours, one hand unloosening from its knot with yours to make a slow descent. Torturous and controlled like he wants you to shrivel up and die from the grudging need for his touch- for him to pivot deep up inside you and erase all conscious thought from your brain.

Sylus captures your lips in another kiss, more heated this time, raunchy and a bit toothy, as he takes his cock and, without any anticapitory strokes or anything, lines it up with your hole.

“M’ sorry, sweetie. I just don’t think I can stay away tonight. You…” His skull throbs with blunt, scalding want. “You’re worth all your trouble, you know that?”

A ripcurrent of fondness, unbidden but strong, gusts through your chest.

There’s just nothing in this world you can do to ward him off you, is there? No way to spook him?

The epiphany, dulled by a lust broiling between your thighs, is as comforting as it is horrifying. You don’t- You don’t know anything more. You just can’t be sure of what Sylus is to you, how he makes you feel— all his disservices done to you a cruel piece of your reality or not.

Tonight, you’ll blame it all on him.

He nudges apart your folds (growingly wet: an unfortunate discovery of yours that makes his chest puff with pride) with the fat head and begins his entrance. It’s grand but gentle; painstaking, almost, as his pelvis draws closer to yours but only at a snail’s rate.

A lewd squelch sounds out. You suppose you’re not entirely beyond the luxury of shame quite yet, because you toss your head to the side and refuse to meet his piercing gaze, embarrassed.

You… suppose you’re also a bit wetter than you’d thought, or wanted, for that matter.

You wince as he feeds inch after inch into you. Sylus is twitching; maybe you’re just hypersensitive or your fresh bout of anger has you experiencing everything in overabundance, but you can feel his long member writhe inside your gooey walls— every ridge and curve as you struggle to make room. On instinct, you clamp down on him and he hisses like he’s been slapped.

“R-Relax, kitten... Let me in. I’ll be gentle with you, I promise. Are… you scared?” He pants.

You swallow hard. Sylus tracks the movement with alarming precision, cardinal eyes watching your throat bob. Sweat beads there. He licks it up without thought, with half the brain to follow up his question with, “Don’t be. I would never hurt you,” he whispers. And to be perfectly honest, you believe him. In his own weird, roundabout way, he wouldn’t hurt you. Not in any physical regard, at least.

(Although, perhaps bullying his thick cock between your plushy, tooth-marked thighs is the exception to that statement.)

“Y-You’re mad at me,” you caterwaul, but it’s really a question in its own, uncertainty blipping past your wet eyes. “You’ll punish me.”

Something like hurt reshapes the hard lines of arousal in his face, tanned skin unfurling with brief sorrow. He looks sweet and puppyish- all momentary, of course, all his slips of vulnerability compiled into these isolated, intimate moments with you.

He frowns, “I won’t punish you, sweetie.”

“I broke the vase. Threw it, and- and my ring.” You reason in a thin voice, your fingers curling thoughtlessly. He takes them in his own. Kisses all the tips of them.

“So?” He dismisses with a breath, “I can buy a million more, honey. You forget who I am. As for your ring,” he pauses, gaze rapidly flipping across the bridge of your nose, as if trying to discern whether or not you’ll do it again somewhere down the line. Of course, it’s an impossible task to tell the future. Sylus wishes that wasn’t the case, though.

“…You wouldn’t do that again, would you? Throw it away, take it off. You’d cherish it, just as I do my own…” he alludes to the own band on his finger, resplendant and with a price tag you’d prefer not to count the zeroes on.

It glitters in the mellow lamp light when you briefly glance to it.

“I want you to look at it,” he decides after a beat, “and think of me. I want it to… make you happy.”

With that, you blink and he’s withdrawing, straightening his back to loom over you again- resuming that position of dominance without issue. He paints the most traditional idea of authority. Tall and muscled, with stoic eyes that glow with the silent dare to challenge him and hands that can make putty of the most rebellious spirit. He molds you like clay on a potter’s wheel. You reel underneath the unexpectedly soft ministrations of his worn palms.

Funnily enough, there was a time where you were convinced he wanted nothing more than to erase your person and rewrite your identity, but now you’re not so sure… It seems if anything, the only thing he wants to strip you of is your fear. Most notably, of him. He’s so violent but… painless. Sylus has always confused you, in that way.

With men like him, you’ve quietly wondered, maybe it’s just better to close your eyes and let your breathing slow.

“You’re doing so good,” he rewards with his words, “Relax your hips… yes, just like that. Maybe I’ve been away too much, mm? I’m sure the twins have been… more than talkative with you. Bothersome. Fuck,” he shudders.

“…You’re all pent up,” he determines out loud. “But don’t worry. I’ll make it better. I’m only asking that you’ll,” you think he gasps faintly, bringing a hand to touch over your belly, “make some room for me here. Could you do that for me, kitten?”

Without fully understanding the possible implications of his words, caught between the sweltering heat of his body and a confusing, inner blend of desire and fading resistance, you give a nod.

Sylus digs a fang in his bottom lip and forces himself to look away. His too-intense eyes settle on the syrupy juncture of your bodies, where he disappears into you and you, for once, eagerly invite him in.

“Sweet kitten.” His praise is cloying. Genuine, sappy. It sticks like frosting to the roof of your mouth— a feeling you can’t quite squirm away from because it’s lodged inside you. He’s smitten, and you think you hate him. You must. You were only screaming your head off about it moments prior and throwing precious, ornate vases to the floor, confessing your repulsion to the whole entire world (more accurately, Luke and Kieran, overhearing it from somewhere down the hall and the damned bird currently perched in his cage).

His words of encouragement, bitten and breathy, keep you from bucking your hips up and away, but only barely.

Your husband keeps you anchored beneath him with a fervid, loving stare and fingers that constantly remind themselves not to dig too deep into the fat of your hip lest they leave bruises. Save for the petal-like hickeys spiraling the pillar of your neck and your thighs- the ones that made you yelp with pleasure as he left them- Sylus doesn’t want to leave anything behind that exists for the sole purpose of hurting.

Right now, everything does. Your pussy lips mouthing around him and desperately trying to receive him, the prominent vein at the base of his cock throbbing under the tight fit.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s nailed you against the headboard or taken you folded over the marble kitchen counters as the twins hurriedly scuttled out— you’ll never quite get used to the sheer length of him. All thick and pulsating, the upper half of it flushed and curved under its own weight.

Terrifying, the first time you saw it and he pried apart your legs all attentively and soft, tracking each and every expression that passed your face despite the drugs in you making every tiny muscle go almost entirely lax.

And it was terrifying the second and third time, too.

…It’s terrifying even now, but that sense of startle is buried deep down under gritty layers of hopelessness and bitterness and a disloyal arousal- your core throbbing with want as it nudges aside all rational thinking. It says to let him in. Let him inside your panties and heart but you still dream of homeward during every sleepless night, familiar, Linkon paths surrounded in hazy serenity. You dream of the sun, too, the buttery light that waits just outside of the N109 Zone and its boundless darkness—

Outside of him. Your stalker, your captor. With the recent addition of a big sparkling gem on your finger- your apparent husband.

Sylus is neat, down there; fine white hairs tickle above your clit as he bottoms out with a final groan- seconds before he stoops back over you and recoils his hips.

He fucks you good and slow. Expert thrusts that he pairs with tentative, darting looks from your pussy to your eyes to note every zipping emotion.

He coaxes honeyed moans out from you with relative ease. Admittedly, it feels heavenly where his body meets and parts with yours— your head made so dull, devoid of thought, your limbs weighed like bags of sand as he ruts into you like a man possessed.

He makes a pleasured sound, pulled deep from the barrel of his chest. “I love you.” You believe him. He definitely looks the part; in love. He can hardly speak. “Kitten. Tell me how it feels, tell me how you want it,”

“Good,” you cry breathlessly. “Feels good.” He watches you clamp your eyes shut and groans with dissatisfaction, taking your jaw in his whole hand and pressing his nose to yours. If he has one wish right now, it’s that you’ll understand in indisputable clarity that you make up the very atoms of his world, that in a wasteland of slate grey and white— you hold color. Hold it like a fully saturated sponge. With every piston of his hips, he drinks his fill from you.

Bitterly, you think with withering rationale, he drains.

“Then open your eyes. Look at me,” he demands. So close he’s near suffocating- every fibre of your being consumed by five letters and an adoration so heady it feels treacly. It emits from him like radiation, poisonous and insidious.

Sylus puffs out humid, minty breaths, and you take them in, recycling it between each other. Your lungs feel like a hearth. He’s gasping like he’s just concluded a several mile long run, perspiring at his temple.

Belatedly, you flutter open your eyes.

He’s handsome. He’s wolfishly handsome and the way he looks at you is both precious and earth-shattering all at once, crushing you under the sheer weight of it like a flimsy object placed under a hydraulic press: you stood no chance. Not against someone like him.

Obedient, you stare at him and whimper, half-tempted to cup his V-shaped jaw and indulge in the feeling.

Sylus moans and rewards you with a hot tongue pressed flatly to your neck. You slam your head as deep as it can go in the duvet. Your eyes fall back into your skull and you hold him tight- tighter than tight- squeezing his thick forearms like they’re fruit to juice. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Your back makes a crescent-moon. He relishes in the way you cling onto him for dear life, branding him with the tips of your fingers as he imparts mind-numbing pleasure. Euphoria thrums in your veins. It’s hard to breathe, your cheeks bloating before you dazedly remind yourself to breathe.

Your inner voice resembles Sylus’s to an unexpected degree.

“Breathe,” he really says, rasping. “Breathe, kitten.”

Your slick cunt winks around him with satisfaction, a gusty breath pouring down your throat.

Pointed teeth tickle your jugular. For a split second, you experience the very real, but perhaps needless fear that he’ll sink down and tear tendon from bone. That he’ll pull away with red spittle and a predatory smile and say, I’ve won. You’ve given in, sweetie.

It’s all for naught, however; instead, he washes you with sloppy, suckling kisses and you mewl unabashed for each and every one.

Molten pleasure sends a violent jolt through you, his saliva marking you and right then you feel no different than a bone to a dog.

Sylus wonders vaguely if you’ll ever come to the realization that while yes, he is a dog, you are his master— you give him name and purpose and occasional tugs on his leash that tell him where to go and what to do. He’ll trail you endlessly. Follow you to hell even if he smells the char clear ahead.

And you just don’t get that, do you? It’s as humorous as it is exasperating.

“Look me in the eyes, sweetie. Tell me how you feel. I want to know how- far you think I reach.” He shudders.

You whimper, “Far. S-So far, Sylus.”

A visible shiver racks his broad shoulders at the sound. His palm, callous and large, cups your chin tenderly and his damp lips shift against yours with every dull clap of his pelvis to yours. His free hand leaves its perch at your waist in favor of your breast, hovering over the valley of them with splayed fingers.

“And what about here?” He croaks, “Am I reaching this spot here?”

Your neck is straining as you plow it deeper into his fancy, expensive mattress. There’s a small uncertainty in you that raises the silent question of whether or not you’re trying to escape the man looming over you or you’re just overstimulated from his handling. Either way, it goes unanswered, put on the back burner to make room for a rattling pleasure.

Comprehension slips away. It’s taking you several seconds to grasp onto what Sylus is asking of you.

You take ahold of a pillow beside you and grab it so hard you think feathers might erupt from your fingertips. You’re getting close, you can feel it; a foamy wave in the distance growing taller and taller as it nears the shore. He’s not fairing any better, the threads of his composure splitting like dead ends.

Your heart, you finally realize in a blink. Is he reaching your heart? And it’s almost delicate, the response your chest has to it, your lungs drawing in a short breath and keeping it there for a long moment as if you need the extra time to process that morsel of information. That unexpected smidgen of fondness that bowls through you and scrunches your brow as you flit between his eyes. Cherry red and agog, wholly invested in your answer.

Before you can provide a real one— the wave crashes.

Bigger than you’d imagined, more powerful. Tsunami-like in nature: it casts its shadow over you in its entirety and steals the breath from your lungs as it curls and flattens. It rolls over you and sprawls to the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, your whole body convulsing as you’re swept up in its waters.

“Y-Yes,” you gasp without consciousness, fucked into perfect dumbness. “I love you, Sylus- I love you I love you I love you—“

Sylus’s hips stutter and fail.

“Fuck, sweetie!” He growls, “Do you mean it, do you—?” He delivers one last onerous ram into your twitching hole before letting out a roar and stilling completely. Rope after rope of hot cum glutting into you, your spasming walls feeling volcanic as he unloads his fat balls inside them.

You tremble and lose your tether to reality, for one moment. Cut off completely and barred from it.

Eventually, he lets out a deep, sated sigh and collapses over you. Drawing your boneless body to his front, tucking you safely under his muscled wing.

You numbly slant yourself against him and press your cheek to the damp, hard planes of his chest. His heart is hammering wildly beneath your ear and you don’t know whether to feel flattered, startled, or a fair mix of both. Perhaps you’re beyond the point of caring- although, sometimes it’s hard to get over the knowledge that Sylus indeed has a functioning heart capable of sorrow and anger and joy.

It’s… confusing, to say the least.

A long while passes afterward.

In the dewy afterglow, he plants a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and uses his center fingers to move away the hair pasted to your forehead. You can tell he’s holding back on something, just don’t know quite what.

Then, he murmurs, with a vulnerability that will never not look stupefying on him— cocksure, devilishly-handsome face warping into the gentle portrait of doubt—

“Did you?” He blinks, slow as he drifts along your sleepy face and watches your eyes hazily lift to meet his. “Mean what you said? Just now, when you came... Did you mean it, kitten?” He whispers softly.

Your mouth opens and wavers.

A plethora of contradictory feelings make quick work of the last of your common sense: loathing, trading itself out for hesitant affection; deepseated fear ducking out the way for the inexplicable want to unfurl your tight limbs against him and allow yourself just to be held... By him, of all people.

Your captor, who utterly uprooted you from your home and cut off every string connecting you to the people you considered most dear. Your tormentor and kidnapper and husband, whether you liked it or not, the relation only recently scrawled in paper in sloping, flowery letters. You signed yourself to him. (Albeit, you had very little say in the whole ordeal.)

You shut your eyes, hard. Your jaw follows.

You don’t give him an answer. Maybe you don’t truly know it anymore, not for certain. What this man has done to you is all too confusing and he’s made you all too tired, tonight. Nothing can keep its foothold for long in your fogged brain.

With a rapid thump of his heart, devastation falling headlong into the pit of his belly, Sylus thinks your silence, that in itself, is your answer.

…Nonetheless. He’s nothing if not persistent. And you’re warming up to him, he can tell— those fuzzy, latent feelings part of your willing acknowledgement or not.

So he arms you impossibly closer and nuzzles his hooked nose into your hair.

You think it’s a wry little smile that prods your temple. “You’re still playing the long game, hm, kitten? …It’s alright,” he breathes. You note the microscopic hitch in his otherwise even words with an unwanted pang of guilt.

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

[cannedbabs]

In your rewrite, do Felix and Turbo happen to have history together? Or is Felix just extremely hyper fixated on the Turbo lore? (Kind of like a true crime addict)

Sorry I’ve been hit with the “Can’t draw due to school” disease but this was in the drafts of my drawing app so. Small 🤏 doodle page

In short? They have history! I love Hammertastic as toxic exes (on both ends) but I’m not gonna push that narrative since it’s not inherently canon. Basically in the rewrite it can be read as “used to be friends” or “oh. Goodness. The narrative between them they tried to erase but it haunts them like a ghost from their past” etc etc.

MORE BELOW CUT as always <3

((ALL OF THIS LORE EXPLAINED IS MY HEADCANON aka my truth lol YOU DONT HAVE TO VIEW THEM LIKE THIS! ESPECIALLY IN TERMS OF MY REWRITE! I will never force a perspective. For example, Ralph and Turbo know each other in my rewrite too, if you wanna imagine Demolition Derby instead of Hammertastic that’s cool too!))

Felix is NOT fixated on Turbo at all. Even barely remotely interested in him as a concept anymore. But back in the day they bonded over being neighbors and protagonists of their games (Turbo was kinda focused on how Felix ‘won medals’ and found that as mutual ground to stand on. Felix just thought Turbo needed to talk to someone and stepped in 😭)

This horribly started a relationship! Nothing out in the open, despite Turbo being vocal about all of his ‘wins’ (this basically means he didn’t see Felix as a prize to be won). As much as Turbo is painted in a bad light and was the openly toxic one, Felix isn’t blameless. Felix constantly dodged issues, half way viewing a “Just don’t let it bother you!” Mindset which clashed with Turbo’s “confront the system” mindset. Basically whenever Turbo had a problem it was swept under the rug, and nothing was discussed. Whenever Felix had an issue Turbo was either gung ho on confronting whoever caused it (more for his own self image rather than actually HELPING felix) or could half ass trying to convince Felix he is the best (of his game, at least) and would offer to take Felix on a drive to take his mind off of it (Felix never took this offer. Claimed driving ‘scared’ him. Cough no he just didn’t wanna do it cough)

This isn’t to say they didn’t get along or didn’t have a basis for a relationship. Felix cared, and Turbo isn’t heartless (at this point in time at least). The King Candy persona was not out of the blue, Turbo was always silly and ridiculous when he wanted to be (I just forget to draw it LOL) and Felix found all of his antics to be hilarious. I also think this is works well bc Felix never meets King Candy in WIR :] coulda made some connections…

ANYWAYS! All that to say “erm. Maybe!” Teehee I love thinking about them <3 they do end up seeing each other again in the rewrite and ohh!! Boy!!! But that’s for another time

[aviradasa]

hey! I stumbled upon your work, and instantly loved it. would it be ok if you could do a Sal fisher x flutter shy! like reader? Im sorry if this doesn’t make sense, but reader who has the same personality as flutter shy and is also good with animals?

Awww, love fluttershy this is a bit short and sweet and lightly proofread i apologize!!

Sal x fluttershy like reader HC

(Art from Pinterest)

You guys most likely met in school.

Sal almost instantly wanted to try and be your friend because you seemed so sweet.

But you were really, really shy.

So when he first tried to talk to you and you kinda seemed scared or uncomfortable, he automatically figured it was cause of his appearance.

He was kinda sad about it, honestly, but at this point, he was used to it.

But then he found out you were really close with Ash, and he decided to ask her about you.

After sal told her what happened, she burst out laughing. He stood their for like 3 minutes, waiting for her to calm down as she leaned against the locker catcher, her breath with a big ass smile.

"Oh god dude no no no. It's not that she's scared of what you look like she's just scared to talk to people in general. She actually thinks you're pretty dope she just struggles to talk to people. But don't worry, I'll help you." Ash says, patting his back as she continues to chuckle.

It reassures him a little. Ash said she would introduce you guys, which was nice but also a little scary. He did not wanna freak you out.

But once ash does Introduce you guys shit lights up.

You all are besties.

The first time you came to his apartment and saw Gizmo, you almost ran to that cat. Picking him up and talking to him. To sal it was almost like Gizmo understood you.

A lot of the time you guys hang is sal playing games or playing guitar while you play with Gizmo.

It's the only time that cat gets any exercise cause whenever sal tries to wave the shoestring in his face, Gizmo looks at him stupid.

After some time of hanging with Sal, you start to come out of your shell more. Opening up a bit and starting to chat more with others without being as easily spooked off.

And he also learned that you liked to sing. Alot.

He will catch you sometimes. But he knows if he mentions it, you'll stop, and you have such a nice voice, so no way he'll do that.

One day you mentioned how much you wanted to be a singer but didn't have the balls and he convinced you

Somehow

To sing while he plays guitar. It's a nice little bonding moment.

Ash has a picture of you that she just loves so much of you holding gizmo while singing with Sal in the background just looking up at you.

She gave you both copys.copy's.

It was really embarrassing for you. Sal, on the other hand, put that shit in his locker, and it's his favorite picture

Now you are full of surprises. One thing sal didn't expect was for you to have so much build-up rage.

Now, it was the day Travis punched sal, and you weren't having that shit. As soon as Travis's fist collided with sals prosthetic, your backhand made contact with his bare face.

Nobody was expecting you to bitchslap him. After you stuck your finger in his face, almost yelling at him as you back him up against a wall before you actually manage to scream at him.

Jesus Christ.

Once Travis was gone, you went up to sal and Ash back to your normal self.

You never spoke of it again. And they were kind of too scared to ask.

With Sal, you are more open, and the group loves you to death.your love of animals is deeply loved by sal and your hidden anger. (While being a surprise) He kind of found cute cause he never thought you could be capable of it.

If yall do end up dating, expect to end up running around in the woods looking for demons and or raccoons.

We won't get into how you befriended the ghosts or how the red eyed demon won't attack you. ( it's like a little discord fluttershy situation like how they became friends)

Sal gets freaked out when it appears in front of you the first time, and you waved to it while he was trying to figure out how to escape.

After that you had some explaining to do lol.

But back on track, you guys dating is the fluffiest,cutest, toothrotting, lovely, type of relationship you will ever see.

[estcaligo]

Sebek and Romance

Some thoughts after this event update

I really liked this small detail in this part of the event - a "bittersweet" (or "sweet and sour" literally, from Japanese) moment between Sally and Jack. When she leaves her basket for Jack (which Trey refers to as a "bento"), we get to see the NRC guys reacting to that display of affection.

Surprisingly, Sebek's reaction was very calm and mature.

When Grim says "Bittersweet? I wanna try eating it!"

Sebek comments "Haha. Grim, that's something even you can't devour" in a calm manner.

In many fanworks, especially fics, Sebek is often depicted as inexperienced or nervous when it comes to matters of love. I enjoy this interpretation too because it can be funny sometimes. But understanding and reacting to romantic interactions is a learned skill (like any social skill), and we should remember a few points:

Sebek has loving parents who have three children. Considering the history of their relationship, I imagine they aren't shy about showing how much they love each other, including in front of their kids. I'm sure Mama Zigvolt has, at least once, explained to Sebek that this is because Mama and Papa love each other very much. So, Sebek is familiar with these kinds of feelings from his family.

Books, books, books.

Books are a big part of Sebek's life - for hobbies, studies, and bonding (for example, with his grandfather or the Prefect). He reads a lot on various topics, and naturally, throughout his life, he must have come across books with romantic themes. We can learn a lot from books, including social skills, even if it's only in a descriptive sense. So, Sebek has also learned about romance through literature.

Arts and culture.

Sebek is familiar with operas and musicals, as mentioned in the Endless Halloween event. We can assume he has some interest in them or, at least, participates in watching them with his family nowadays too (because he mentioned Zigvolts spend quite a lot of time together, like attending parks, so why not.)

We don't know what kind of plays he watches, but we can assume there are at least some romantic motifs, as is often the case in classic operas and theater. Watching actors - who often exaggerate emotions - could give him an understanding of how romantic situations unfold, and this exposure can likely have an impact on him. 

He also does thorough research into the arts when required, and some romantic themes might come up. For instance, if he knows Aurora, he must be familiar with her story, including her love interest and the kiss plot (though TWST may have twisted these stories, I presume core elements like the love story remain intact). So, Sebek can learn about romance thought art.

Lilia's supervision.

Sebek spends a lot of time with Lilia as his pupil, along with Silver, so naturally, he absorbs a lot of information about the world from his teacher - not just combat skills. And, well, Lilia's wisdom might be mischievous, if not dubious at times. In Ghost Bride event, it's noted that one of Sebek's visions of courting his future partner involves…well

which is kind of cute, if you ask me.

So, coming back to this event's reaction:

Seeing the display of affection between a loving couple is nothing new for Sebek, and he understands it surprisingly well.

At least when it comes to other people...

[hummingbird24220]

Can I request reader making friendship bracelets for the strawhats but the bracelets are attached to their devil fruit power, I'm thinking it's a variation of 'red string of fate' except that when reader froms a strong bond with someone they become tied together allowing them to gain power through these ties (basically the power of friendship lol) the bracelets themselves aren't a part of the devil fruit just a cute thing reader does to help others visualize what they mean to them (as only reader can actually see the strings of fate)

Anyways the plot would be the strawhats reactions to the friendship bracelets (whether or not they know about the significance of them is up to you) this is mostly platonic strawhats but if you wanted to add romance that's cool too!

You don't have to write for all the strawhats if you don't want to but I definitely wanna see Robin's reaction to a friendship bracelet! (I think she'd really enjoy having a physical object to embody friendship)

(Sorry the ask was so long, love your writing! <3)

Glad you love my writing! Lovely to hear <3

I really liked this prompt - i love the string of fate stuff, makes me feel a bit gooey inside hehe

I could have kept going on this forevvverrrrrrrr i love the concept... spin off mini series anyone?!?!

Hope you enjoy reading!

Ties That Bind (Part 1)

One Piece x Fem!Reader

The kitchen was warm with the scent of Sanji’s post-lunch tea blend, a hint of citrus and mint lingering in the air. Everyone had gathered around the table like they usually did after a big meal, laughter still dying down from Luffy’s latest story about nearly punching a sky island seagull by accident.

You sat near the end of the table, a small box of thread, beads, and charm trinkets sitting beside your teacup. Nami had noticed it earlier and complimented the little braided bracelet you wore on your wrist—blue with a tiny compass bead. You smiled and muttered something vague, but now, with everyone calm and relatively in one place, you figured it was time to explain it properly.

You shifted in your seat, fiddling with a half-finished bracelet in your hands.

"Hey... can I tell you guys something?" you asked, your voice a little hesitant but clear.

Zoro tilted his head lazily, arms crossed. "If it's a confession about secretly being a government spy, say it now."

"I knew something was weird!" Usopp pointed dramatically.

"Shut up, Usopp," said Nami, elbowing him gently. "Go on, [Y/N]."

Luffy leaned forward like a kid about to hear a ghost story, chin propped up on his hands. "Yeah, yeah! Is it about your powers?"

You blinked, surprised. "...You knew?"

"Of course!" he beamed. "You smell like magic. Or maybe cinnamon. I dunno."

You laughed nervously but nodded. "Okay, yeah. So, my Devil Fruit is called the Saiken saiken no Mi—it means something like the Bond-Bond Fruit. It's… hard to explain, but basically, when I form a strong bond with someone, I can see it. Like... a thread tying us together."

Robin perked up with interest, lacing her fingers together. "A thread of fate, perhaps?"

You nodded. "Exactly. Only I can see them. Some are faint, some are bright, but the stronger the connection, the more... real they feel. And through them, I get stronger. I borrow strength from the people I'm tied to."

"So like the power of friendship?" Franky grinned. "That's super classic."

"Basically, yeah." You smiled sheepishly. "But I didn't want to freak anyone out by suddenly saying I see invisible strings attached to you all, so I started making these—" you held up the bracelet in your hand, bright orange with a tiny seashell charm, “—to kinda... represent the bonds I feel. For me, and maybe for you too. Something physical. Something nice."

Chopper gasped, eyes sparkling. "That's so cool! Wait—do I have one?"

You reached into the box and pulled out a little bracelet with white and pink beads, shaped like sakura petals. "Here."

Chopper practically exploded into a blushing mess as he took it, clutching it like it was the most sacred treasure in the Grand Line.

"You've been tying us together this whole time..." Brook said wistfully, his empty eye sockets looking soft. "Even without us knowing."

"You don’t have to wear them," you quickly added. "I just… wanted you all to know what you mean to me."

Nami’s bracelet was gold and teal with a tiny bell. Sanji’s was red and black, with a flame-shaped charm. Usopp’s had earthy tones and a little slingshot bead. Robin’s was elegant, deep violet and lace-like. Franky's had tiny gear charms. Brook’s was ivory and had musical notes.

You hesitated before pulling out the one meant for Zoro—green with a single white bead shaped like a sword—and Luffy’s: red, simple, but with a tiny anchor charm that seemed to glow with joy.

Zoro took his with a grunt of approval and a quiet, "Thanks." You swore his ears turned pink.

Sanji nearly cried over his. "You handmade this for me? Angel."

Robin turned the bracelet in her fingers thoughtfully. "You truly see something special in everyone, don’t you?"

You just smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

"Wait, wait!" Luffy waved his hands. "So if you get stronger from bonds, what happens if you get, like, super close with someone?"

You blinked, surprised by the question—and the slight glimmer of teasing in his grin.

"Well," you said, "the bond gets stronger, and so does the power. I guess, in theory… the closest bond of all would make me unstoppable."

"Like a best friend?" Usopp grinned.

"...Sure," you said, smiling softly.

The mood on the Sunny shifted, but in the best way. A kind of quiet awe had settled over the table as each member of the crew examined their bracelet like it was a rare treasure.

Robin wore hers immediately, slipping it onto her wrist with a graceful flick. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “I’ve spent a long time surrounded by people who only wanted to use me. And now, someone wants to... tie themselves to me.” She looked up and smiled warmly. “It’s rather beautiful.”

Brook held his up to the sunlight. “Yohohoho! If only I had skin to feel this against. Still, I will treasure it forever, just as I treasure our friendship. Though if you ever want to make me a matching anklet—”

“No,” Zoro muttered flatly.

Nami had looped hers around her wrist, then her ankle, then back to her wrist. “It’s fashionable. Very versatile. And handmade, which gives it value.” She glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Also, you’re incredibly sentimental, aren’t you?”

Sanji sighed like he’d just been proposed to. “You tied a thread to my heart, mon ange…”

Usopp had immediately put his on and now kept glancing down at it like it was going to disappear. “So wait, if I make my bond with you stronger, do you get stronger, or do I get stronger too? ���Cause I’m just saying, team synergy is really underrated in combat situations—”

“HEY!” Luffy suddenly slammed his hands on the table, bracelet proudly on display. “If getting strong means making super strong bonds, then we gotta do that right now. Everyone! Bonding time!”

Chopper gasped. “Really?!”

Franky slammed his drink down. “Super bonding?! Count me in!”

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

“We should do a group activity,” Luffy declared with the confidence of a king. “Something that makes [Y/N] feel extra connected to us. Like… a trust fall. Or a big team nap.”

“That’s not how it works,” you laughed. “You can’t force connection, it just happens over time.”

“Time? We don’t have time! What if we fight someone really strong next week? You gotta be ready!”

Zoro leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You’re gonna give her emotional whiplash.”

But Luffy was already on his feet. “Let’s all tell [Y/N] a secret! That’ll make us close, right?”

“Captain,” Robin said lightly, “you’re rather enthusiastic about this.”

He beamed at you. “You’re part of my crew now. That means we’re all family. And if your powers run on family juice, then we need to juice it up!”

“…I’m gonna pretend that made sense,” you muttered, but your heart felt like it might burst.

Chopper jumped onto the table. “Okay, okay! I’ll go first! I pretend to be tough sometimes, but sometimes I cry when people call me a monster. But you never did, [Y/N]. That’s why I love you.”

Your eyes welled up immediately. “Chopper…”

“MY TURN,” Sanji shouted. “Sometimes I make extra portions ‘by accident’ just to see if you’ll pick mine over the others.”

“Obviously she does,” Zoro muttered. “Your curry’s hotter than a volcano’s butt.”

“I ENJOY COMPLIMENTS.”

Nami tapped her bracelet thoughtfully. “I hoard money because I’m still afraid. I trust you, though. You never once looked at me like I was a thief. Just… a navigator.”

Usopp cleared his throat. “I, uh… I used to make up stories about people like you. People who cared without needing a reason. Now one of them’s real.”

Your hand trembled as you clutched the box of threads to your chest. “You guys…”

Robin gave you a serene look. “You’re weaving more than bracelets, [Y/N]. You’re weaving a place for yourself. And we’re honored to be caught in your thread.”

Then all heads turned to Luffy.

He was sitting quietly now, looking down at his bracelet. And for once, his usual grin was softer. Quieter.

“My secret is…” he looked up, “...I already feel strongest when I know you guys are with me. That’s why I don’t need a power like yours. I already believe in it.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Chopper started panicking and tossing tissues at your face.

Luffy stood up, walked over, and plopped his hat on your head.

“So, bonding time worked?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

You sniffled, clutching the rim of his hat. “Yeah. Yeah, it really worked.”

--

The sky had begun to blush with streaks of orange and lavender, soft waves lapping gently at the Sunny's hull. The energy from Luffy’s “crew bonding time” had finally died down, with Franky tinkering below deck, Sanji prepping dinner, and Zoro pretending not to nap on the lawn. A peaceful calm had settled over the ship.

You sat on a lounge chair on the deck, a warm cup of tea cradled in your hands. Steam curled upward, swirling through the threads—those glowing, invisible strings that stretched between you and every corner of the Sunny.

Some shimmered like fresh starlight, others pulsed like gentle heartbeats. Each one was different—some chaotic, some serene—but they all led back to you. A net of connection. Of love, loyalty, and laughter. And though no one else could see them, they were as real to you as the sea itself.

You smiled softly.

“May I join you?” came a gentle voice.

You looked up to find Robin approaching, a book tucked under one arm, her bracelet glinting softly in the fading light. Deep violet thread, tiny rose-gold accents, and a small book charm nestled at its center.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room.

She sat beside you, graceful as ever, folding one leg over the other and setting her book in her lap. For a moment, she said nothing—just sipped her own tea, gazing out at the horizon.

Then her voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful. “I’ve received many gifts in my life. Few as... sincere as this.”

You glanced at her wrist, where the bracelet sat snugly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I don’t just like it,” she said. “I feel it. It’s strange. Even without seeing the threads, it feels like something is tied between us. Like it’s always been there, waiting.”

You stared into your cup for a long second, then spoke. “Sometimes… I wonder if people will misunderstand. That they’ll think I’m only getting close to others because it makes me stronger. That I’m just… using them.”

Robin turned toward you, eyes calm but sharp.

“That kind of power can’t be forced. And it certainly can’t be faked.”

You looked up.

“Your ability,” she said gently, “only works because you truly care. That’s what makes it powerful. And dangerous. Because if someone hurt one of us…” Her expression darkened for the briefest second. “I imagine you’d become unstoppable.”

You laughed softly, the sound half-embarrassed, half-relieved. “I guess I’d better stay on your good side.”

Robin smiled, but her gaze lingered on her bracelet. She ran her fingers over the little book charm, and for a brief moment, her lips trembled.

“I’ve spent most of my life being hunted,” she said. “Wanted. Feared. I never imagined someone would look at me and think, She matters enough to tie a thread to. But you did. And it means more than I know how to say.”

You nudged her shoulder gently, trying to keep things light. “Aw, Robin, don’t get all weepy on me now. You’re gonna make me cry, and then Chopper’s gonna panic again.”

She chuckled, brushing beneath one eye. “Too late.”

The sun dipped lower, gold spilling over the deck like spilled treasure. The threads shimmered in your mind’s eye—especially hers, now glowing warmer than ever.

“Thanks for sitting with me,” you murmured.

“Any time,” she said. “After all… we’re tied together now.”

-

Time aboard the Sunny had passed quick, and with each moment, your bonds grew stronger. You grew stronger.

-

Smoke curled through the dense trees of the island, the once-quiet jungle now a torn battlefield. Explosions echoed through the valley, and the Straw Hats were spread out, locked in skirmishes with a group of mercenaries hired to capture Devil Fruit users.

You stood at the center of it all—heart pounding, blood buzzing, a quiet hum in your ears like a rising crescendo.

This fight was different.

Not just because it was brutal—but because something inside you had clicked.

You could see the threads now. Not just shimmering faintly, but glowing. Pulsing. They surrounded you like a constellation, each one tied to someone you loved—and every single one sang with emotion.

Fear. Loyalty. Determination. Trust. Power.

A whip lashed toward you, charged with Haki. You dodged on instinct—not your own, but one you'd learned from watching Sanji every time he danced through the air.

You spun and dropped into a low sweep-kick, following through with an upward strike so fast your knuckles cracked the air—Luffy’s wild, rubbery rhythm channeled through your limbs, even without the stretch.

Your opponent staggered.

Then another merc came at you from behind, swinging a jagged blade—and you turned, blade in hand. Not your usual style. But the grip? The stance?

Zoro.

You moved with clean precision, a flash of green and steel in your mind, parrying the attack with force that sent vibrations up your arm. You didn’t hesitate—you let the bonds guide you.

Zoro’s quiet grit. Sanji’s graceful fire. Luffy’s reckless, joyful strength.

You weren’t mimicking them—you were fighting like someone who knew them inside and out. Someone shaped by them.

Across the battlefield, the others started to notice.

“Whoa—IS THAT [Y/N]?!” Usopp shouted from behind a crumbling stone wall.

“No way…” Chopper gasped, peeking over a boulder. “That move looked just like Sanji’s!”

Sanji froze mid-spin-kick, locking eyes with you across the field. “What the hell—did you just copy my move, sweetheart?!”

You grinned, lips bloody but eyes blazing. “Call it inspiration!”

“Oi!” Zoro barked, slicing through a trio of enemies. “I taught you that stance in a spar ONCE. ONCE!”

You shrugged, twirling the enemy’s weapon and chucking it back at another target with expert aim. “Guess it stuck.”

Robin, from above on a summoned flower-wing platform, watched with quiet awe. “She’s drawing strength from us… not like a parasite, but like a mirror.”

“She’s shining,” Nami whispered.

Luffy was the last to notice, mid-fight and laughing as he socked someone square in the jaw. Then his eyes landed on you—your form alive with golden threads dancing at your back like celestial ribbons.

His grin stretched wide.

“[Y/N]!!!” he called, ducking a punch and flinging an arm toward you. “YOU LOOK SO COOL RIGHT NOW!!!”

You burst out laughing, mid-spin, driving your heel into the ground and launching a mercenary several feet through the air.

One by one, the mercenaries began to retreat. You stood there panting, the threads still glowing—stronger than ever. And through them, you could feel it:

The bond. The trust. The undeniable connection.

Not just power borrowed—but power forged. Through shared meals. Inside jokes. Long nights and sea storms.

This strength wasn’t just yours. It was theirs, too.

As the battlefield quieted and the others regrouped, Luffy jogged up to you, hands on his hips.

“That was awesome,” he said, breathless with excitement. “You fought like all of us at once!”

You wiped blood from your lip and smiled. “Guess you guys are rubbing off on me.”

“Or maybe,” Robin said as she landed beside you, her bracelet faintly glowing, “you’ve finally started to see just how deeply we’re all tied together.”

You looked around at your crew—your family. The threads between you pulsed in soft, steady rhythm.

Yeah. You saw it. And now, they could, too.

-

The stars were beginning to peek through the darkened sky, the moon a silver coin casting gentle light across the deck. The crew was scattered around the Sunny in various states of exhaustion and satisfaction—wounds bandaged, bellies full, spirits high.

You sat at the bow, legs swinging over the edge, a mug of something warm cradled in your hands. The threads in your mind’s eye were quiet now, humming softly. Still glowing. Still strong.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about the battle—how instinctively the power had come, how natural it had felt to move with pieces of your friends inside you. It hadn’t been overwhelming. It had been comforting. Empowering.

You smiled faintly.

“Hey.”

You turned. Luffy stood behind you, hands in his pockets, his bracelet catching the moonlight. There was something different about his expression—still playful, still curious, but... softer. Quieter.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure.”

He stepped closer, then sat beside you, stretching his legs out. “Can I… see them?”

You blinked. “See what?”

He turned to you, eyes wide with that impossible brightness. “The threads. The ones that tie us all together.”

Your heart stilled.

No one had ever asked before. Not seriously. Not like this. You’d always assumed it was just your burden—your gift. Your curse. A secret window only you could peer through.

You stared down at your hand, at the glowing lines stretching outward like an unseen web. “I… I don’t know if I can make them visible to others.”

Luffy didn’t push. He just tilted his head. “Wanna try?”

You looked at him for a moment.

Then nodded.

You set your mug down, sat up straight, and closed your eyes.

It started as a pull in your chest—like tugging thread through a needle. Carefully, slowly, you began to unravel that perception, pushing it outward. Extending it beyond yourself. You reached into the core of your fruit’s power, channeling not just energy, but emotion. Every laugh, every fight, every quiet cup of tea and silly card game and comforting shoulder.

You felt your fingers tremble.

Then—

“…Whoa,” Luffy whispered.

You opened your eyes.

The deck glowed.

Not brightly, not like fire or lightning—but soft, gentle light. Golden threads stretched between you and every single one of your crewmates, weaving through the ship like constellations. Some threads pulsed bright and strong—like the one leading from you to Luffy, or to Chopper, or to Robin. Others had more subtle glows, warm and steady.

Each thread was unique—colors, textures, patterns. You could feel their personalities through them.

Zoro’s thread was taut and grounded, like woven steel. Sanji’s danced with warmth, flickering like firelight. Nami’s sparkled with bursts of gold, laced with stormy energy. Robin’s was velvet-smooth, deep violet with intricate knots. Luffy’s—brightest of all—was wild and fluid, chaotic and beautiful. A living firework.

The crew slowly gathered, one by one, drawn by the shift in the air.

“What is this…” Nami whispered, stepping closer to one of the floating threads.

“Are these… ours?” Chopper asked, reaching out with trembling hooves.

“They’re real,” Zoro muttered, watching one pulse with his breath.

You were sweating now, concentrating hard. It took everything to maintain this projection—but you wanted them to see it. You wanted them to know.

“This is what I see,” you said quietly. “Every day. Every bond. Every thread that ties me to you.”

Robin stood beside you, eyes shimmering. “It’s beautiful.”

Usopp sniffled. “Why does mine look like it’s got beads on it?”

“Because I know how much you love flair,” you teased, voice trembling.

Luffy’s eyes hadn’t left the threads. His face was a mix of awe and joy, the kind of pure reaction only he could pull off.

“They’re alive,” he said. “These bonds… they’re really alive.”

You nodded. “They are. You make them real. You all do.”

And then—Luffy grinned.

He stood, arms stretched out wide as if trying to catch the sky.

“I LOVE IT!!!”

The others laughed, their voices light with wonder. Even Zoro cracked a smirk. Sanji tried to light a cigarette with shaking hands and gave up entirely, just staring at the glowing thread between you.

You held the image a few seconds longer—long enough to burn it into their memories—before gently letting it fade, like smoke in the wind.

The deck returned to normal.

But something lingered.

A feeling. A warmth. A knowing.

You leaned back with a breathless smile.

Luffy looked down at you, still grinning. “You’re awesome.”

You met his eyes, soft and shining. “So are you.”

-

The morning sun spilled golden light across the deck, warming the wood and shimmering off the sea. The crew gathered around the table for breakfast—freshly made by Sanji, as always—still glowing in the afterglow of yesterday’s battle and the reveal.

The memory of golden threads dancing in the air hadn’t left them.

Neither had the awe.

“So,” Sanji said casually, setting down a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of you with a flourish, “I believe it’s only right to point out that [Y/N] used my fighting style in that battle.”

“Light on your feet. Beautiful form. Graceful kicks that could kill a sea king.” He spun with a wink. “Clearly, the power of our bond is unmatched.”

Zoro made a sound. A sound. Low, dismissive, impatient.

“Your fancy footwork was one thing,” he said through a mouthful of rice. “But the real strength came when she ended that merc with a full-on counterstrike. That was my technique.”

You raised a brow at your plate. Here we go.

Sanji bristled. “Counterstrike? She deflected a two-ton punch with a spinning heel kick. That’s my move.”

“Please,” Zoro scoffed. “She stood her ground and overpowered him. No spinning. Just raw strength. That was me.”

“She even moved like me,” Sanji snapped. “You couldn’t twirl to save your life.”

“Because I don’t need to twirl to win, curly-brow.”

“Want me to twirl you overboard—?!”

Nami sighed. “It’s too early for testosterone.”

Usopp munched toast, watching them with wide eyes. “This is weirdly flattering. They’re fighting over who has a better connection with [Y/N].”

“They’re fighting over whose bond is stronger,” Robin said lightly, sipping tea. “It’s oddly romantic.”

You sat back, sipping your own tea, amused beyond words.

But Sanji wasn’t done.

He turned from Zoro mid-argue, marched over to you, and—

Knelt. On one knee. Took your hand.

You blinked.

You flushed.

Your brain, traitorous and immediate: MARRIAGE?!

“[Y/N],” Sanji said with utmost sincerity, gazing up at you like you’d hung the stars yourself. “Out of all the bonds you hold… which one is the most powerful?”

The entire table went silent.

Zoro choked on his rice.

You stared, your face slowly going crimson. “I—um. That’s… I mean…”

He lifted your hand to his lips.

Your heart actually stopped.

You gave a slow, thoughtful hum, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Hmm… Sanji, Zoro… it’s honestly so close.”

Sanji’s smile widened like he was about to win.

But then—

You grinned.

Eyes gleaming.

You gripped his hand tighter, leaned in just slightly, and said with a soft, velvety voice:

“Of course… I could always strengthen the bond in… other ways.”

Sanji made a sound like someone had just pulled the pin on a very flustered grenade.

Then—

He died.

He dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, flat on the deck with swirly eyes and a blissed-out smile.

Usopp dropped his toast. Chopper shrieked. Robin covered her mouth, amused. Luffy burst out laughing so hard he fell backward off the bench.

You threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest. “Oh my god, I didn’t think he’d actually pass out—”

Zoro rolled his eyes but was smirking. “Serves him right.”

As Sanji twitched on the floor, hearts floating from his head like steam, you picked up your tea again and sipped calmly.

“Guess that answers his question.”

-

The waves rocked the Sunny gently, a lullaby of the sea, as the last rays of the sun kissed the horizon in shades of peach and gold. Most of the crew had turned in early, worn out from the chaos of the past few days.

But you stayed on deck, sitting near the figurehead with your knees tucked up to your chest and a blanket around your shoulders. The breeze was cool, but the warmth in your chest kept you from feeling it.

You could see them again—the threads.

Still glowing.

Still alive.

They shimmered faintly in the dusk light, stretched like constellations across the deck and walls and sails. So many beautiful bonds. So many pieces of yourself that had once been broken, now tied to others.

You felt whole.

But one thread… One thread blazed like sunlight.

It wasn’t just bright. It wasn’t just strong. It radiated.

Wild and untamed. Joyful and fierce. The thread tied to Luffy.

You didn’t even have to look to feel him behind you.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You turned. He was barefoot, messy-haired as always, arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. He plopped down beside you, crisscross applesauce, and stared out at the sea with a relaxed smile.

“I knew you’d be up here,” he added, glancing at you. “You always look at the sky when you’re thinking.”

You smiled back. “I could say the same to you.”

He grinned wider, and for a long moment, you both just sat in comfortable silence.

The wind tugged at your hair. The sea whispered. And the thread between you glowed like firelight in your chest.

“Hey, Luffy,” you said finally. “Do you… remember when you first found me?”

He blinked, then nodded once, slow. “Yeah. You were in that weird old port town. Working for that rich jerk.”

You nodded, eyes distant. “More like owned. I didn’t even realize I was fading until you walked in, like a storm. You didn’t even hesitate. Just looked at me and said, ‘Wanna come with us?’”

Luffy’s smile softened. “Well, yeah. You looked like someone who needed the sky.”

Your throat tightened.

“You saved me, you know,” you whispered. “Not just from that place, but from… me. I used to think my powers only worked if I earned people’s love. Like I had to be useful. Like I had to deserve it.”

Luffy was quiet, watching your face.

“But you…” Your voice wavered. “You just… took me. Like I was already something precious. Like I didn’t have to earn anything.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Then he reached out—softly, gently—and tugged the edge of your blanket until you scooted closer. Your shoulder touched his.

“You are something precious,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s why you shine so much.”

You felt your chest tighten in the best way. That thread between you burned golden. Stronger than any other. Stronger than steel, stronger than fate.

“I used to think I needed someone to be my light,” you murmured. “But I think… maybe I just needed someone to let me shine.”

You looked at him.

And smiled.

“You’re the sun, Luffy. You just don’t know it.”

He laughed, a little awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah. You’re the one glowing all the time.”

You reached over and took his hand—warm and calloused and steady. The thread between you flared in your mind like a second heartbeat.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because I’m standing in your light.”

For once, Luffy didn’t answer with words. He just grinned—really grinned—and leaned his forehead against yours, laughing under his breath like you’d told him a secret that made him happy.

And you laughed too. Because you’d never felt more seen. Or more safe.

Wrapped in his sunlight. Tied to something bigger than fate.

[telephoniii]

i just got an idea but idk how to turn it into a full blown fic

Tyler the Creator’s last verse of Judge Judy as the Prefect’s fair well letter to NRC before going home?!?!?

“Sorry that I haven't been communicating much. This past year has been rough. It spreaded to my head“

After experiencing overblot after overblot, the Prefect’s mental health had taken a noticeable toll. Who used to be the cheerful, optimistic and a bit ditzy Prefect of Ramshackle had turned into a more reserved and quiet individual.

It wasn't a necessarily bad change, you needed to be somewhat reserved in order to survive at NRC. However, many of your friends couldn't help but mourn the loss of innocence.

Specifically Ace, Deuce, and Grim. The three who’s seen you from start to end.

“I knew it when we met, if you're reading, it's too late. I'm on the other side, but I just wanna say.”

You were aware of this switch in yourself. It was hard not to recognize it. Your thoughts became much less hopeful and more realistic. With those realistic thoughts came the truth.

You were never going to stay here forever. You couldn't.

Back at your home, you have so much to live for. So many friendships to amend, so many family members to look out for. No matter how much you adored NRC and the bonds you cultivated, this wasn't your world. And it would never be yours.

After Crowley had officially found you a way home, you told him that you wanted to keep it a secret. You weren't going to tell anyone that you were leaving. Not Grim. Not Tsunotarou. Nobody.

You didn't want their last memories of you to be this shadow of your former self. The corrupted Prefect. No. You wanted it to be that starry-eyed student that saw the best in them at their worst times.

And you planned on doing so through these letters. They wouldn't get it till after your leave, Crowley promised that.

“Thank you for the moments I could grab before I left. I hope you live your life, your truest self with no regrets.”

Despite your deep desire to leave, you really did cherish them and the memories you made.

You’ll miss the fancy tea parties Heartsbyul invited you to.

You’ll miss watching the Savanaclaw boys practice.

You’ll miss helping out at the Monstro Lounge with Octavinelle.

You’ll miss setting up parties at Scarabia.

You’ll miss the impromptu makeovers you’d get from Pomefiore.

You’ll miss pulling all-nighters watching anime at Ignihyde.

You’ll miss inviting the members of Diasomnia to Ramshackle.

You’ll miss Grim.

Sincerely, you hope them all the best. Especially the overblotters. You’ve seen how amazing all of them could truly be.

With all your heart, you hope they go on to live their best lives, even if you can’t be in it.

“I wasn't living right until they told me what was left. I'm wishing you the best,”

The only ‘people’ you confided in about these feelings were the Ramshackle ghosts. While Grim was out cold, you sat on the dinky couch and vented to them.

Thankfully, they understood. Some even shared a few stories of their own. Hearing the tales of their past lives and families increased that aching feeling in your chest.

That night you left, the ghost wished you the best.

‘Don’t forget the lives you’ve changed here. You’re truly incredible. Thank you.’

With a hug, you disappeared behind the mirror for good.

The next day, students from all dorms received a letter dedicated to them.

“P.S, Thank you for not judging, Judy.”

‘P.S, Thank you for welcoming me into your world, Prefect :)’

That was the last sentence of each letter.

This turned out kinda cheesy but I HOPE YOU SEE THE VISIONN. Maybe it’d be interesting to write the NRC student’s reaction to the letter or something idk. I hope you have a good day :>

[halflifebutawesome]

BEHOLD! FOR THE SECOND TIME, THE GBVRAI LINEUP! now with another weird old dude!

waves my hands around vaguely I wanted to make a nicer looking lineup and more coherent post actually explaining the au. I've now made 2 gbvrai lineups but never a plain old hlvrai lineup. Whatever.

There's a complete AU explanation and individual character profiles (?) under the cut! check it out! ASK ME ABOUT IT !!! SMILES!!!!!

The basic gist of this au is that the science team, are a group of ghost hunting paranormal researchers. The Ghostbusters. You mightve heard of them. This isn't a 1 for 1 au where certain characters take the role of others, it's more just. What if the science team existed in the Ghostbusters universe. They're just the Ghostbusters now.

On a particularly odd case, they bust a ghost that seems... off. It's sentient, it's talking back, and it's psychokinetic energy is off the charts.

Thinking nothing of it, they return to the firehouse and prep the trap for containment disposal. Gordon's the new guy, so he's the unlucky dude who's been assigned the job of disposing of the traps. All the while the ghost will NOT shut up. It's weirdly powerful and seems mostly unbothered. It's name is Benry, and he's a little freak.

the ghost containment unit has been unstable for a while, overfilled with ghosts, but they have to dispose of Benry somehow, so they go ahead with it.

In this AU I'm kind of combining the Resonance Cascade with the Manhattan Crossrip (the Manhattan crossrip is the big scary ghost event that happens at the end of GB1). Basically what happens is that Benrys weirdly powerful ghostly energy, combined with an unstable ghost containment unit, tears a big rip in the fabric between the ghost realm and ours, letting all sorts of ghouls and specters free.

Imagine the Resonance Cascade, with all the aliens getting out and ravaging Black Mesa, but it's a bunch of ghosts getting out and ravaging New York. Gordon and the rest of the team have to fight their way through the ghost filled streets of NYC, and close the crossrip.

Heres some closeups and more individual info/thoughts for the gang!!

GORDON FREEMAN! The new guy. Again, this is less a direct 1 for 1 swap au kind of deal, and more just putting these guys in situations. Gordon's HEV suit, tho, I wanna talk about.

In Ghostbusters canon, they DO have a weird fucked up hazard suit. It first appears in the TRGB episode "Xmas Marks The Spot", where Egon uses it to travel into the ghost realm. I know it makes another appearance in the comics, in a way that's more HEV-esque, but I never finished the comics so idk. It's real tho.

I imagine here that the ghost containment unit is more like the reactor in half life, where it's hazardous to be around for too long, probably bcos of like. I don't know. Concentrated psychokinetic energy. Sure. In any case he needs to wear the HEV to use the containment unit.

My design here is taking the chest piece, helmet, gloves and belts and modifying them to look a little more HEV-esque.

Bennyyyy. Benrey benry beny. He's a ghost, as far as they can tell. It would be more appropriate to call him an entity of sorts.

He's not a ghost simply for the fact that he wasn't ever human. He wasn't ever a living person that died. He's some pure, really powerful, concentrate entity/being that leaked through from the ghost realm. He looks like. A guy, for the most part, but he's a mimic. Something pretending to be human. He's been around for a while, and has settled into this form. He's mostly corporeal, but can phase in and out as he pleases (noclipping) Switching from corporeal/incorporeal when it's funny.

He met Tommy when they were both a lot younger, Benry being fresh out of the ghost realm, and have been bestfriends ever since. ☝️ my au my weirdly specific tommybenny dynamic. Dw about it

TOMMY & SUNKIST!!!! Tommy has grown up around ghosts his whole life, and is pretty in-tune with them. This is proven with his bond to Sunkist, who's decidedly not a real dog, and his longtime friendship with Benry.

I gave him the goggles cos. Tommy's my fave and Ray's my fave and I think they're fun. Also cos if it WAS a 1 to 1 swap I would def have Tommy as Ray. Anyway. He's been a part of the Ghostbusters since he was little, like I said he grew up with them and around them. He's really knowledgeable about ghost types and physics. He knows all the ghost rules.

Sunkist isn't like. His dead childhood dog cos that seems. Kind of sad. Instead she's kind of a church Grimm or hell hound. An entity taking the form of a big huge dog that Tommy befriended when he was a kid, and has now kind of bonded to him. She's pretty corporeal as far as ghosts go, and can interact w the physical environment pretty well.

DARNOLD ^^ my friend darnold. Darnolds not usually super involved in the actual ghostbusting, and prefers to stay behind. He's more of the research and tech kind of guy, he studies the readings and takes measurements.

He's interested in psychokinetic energy and ghost residue and all sorts of like. Ghost sciences. Why some people stay behind, why some people just seem to die and disappear, the properties of the ghost realm and the ghosts themselves. Corporeality and degradation of personhood the longer someone's been a ghost.

When the Resonance Crossrip happens, he opts to stay behind and observe the effects of the insane amounts of ghost energy on the corporeal world.

Hes also a transfer over from the ghost engineers! That's a fun thing for me. I love the ghost engineers idc frozen empire gave me everything I wanted

FORZEN. Forzen is... the same thing as Benry. A mimic, something taking the form of a normal ghost to blend in or hide in plain sight.

He came through with the Resonance Crossrip, but obviously like. He knew Benry before (we WERE bestfriends..). He's not as powerful, which is why he wasn't able to sneak through when Benry did. He's also not super corporeal. He can only interact with the physical world if he's exerting a LOT of energy. Prone to flickering in and out of vision.

Upon coming thru the Crossrip, he kind of just. Decided to hang around the firehouse. Didn't wanna go much further, for fear of being ghostbusted and sent back into the containment unit. The source is the last place they'd look for him!

Darnold, who's holed up in the firehouse, is more than delighted to meet a ghost who's sentient and willing to cooperate to do some tests and experimentation to get never before documented results. They bond and they're cutesit. ☝️ DARZEN WIN. hi splash 👋

Dr Coomer and Dr Bubby are two of the three original founders of the Ghostbusters! They've been around for a looooong time. They're also married obviously but that's like a given.

They helped found the Ghostbusters, having met in college while both were studying parapsychology. I imagine their like. Parapsychology -> Ghostbusters pipeline was very in line with how GB1 starts, where they used to work in an academic environment before getting kicked out and founding the GB.

They're also both. Psychic. Because frozen empire has once again given me everything. Coomers got some like. Idk something that lines up with his self awareness in HLVRAI, maybe prophecy? Vauge visions of the future? Bubby has pyrokinesis. Duh.

and... Mr. Coolatta..... Tommy's dad...he was one of the founders along w Coomer and Bubby and at some point he. Died. And is now a reeeally really powerful ghost. maybe from the exposure to ghost energy or smth?

Now hes got gman powers and just kinda hangs around. Pretty corporeal and solid and. Present. For lack of a better word. But he IS a dead guy. Used to be human.

This is why Tommy kind of grew up around ghosts and knows alot about them :) Mr Coolatta is pretty benevolent, and mostly just kind of spooky and fucked up.

And that's. About it? I believe?? PLEAAASE ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS I have so many thoughts. I've been working on this for like 2 months now. Lol.

[luvashli]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

SYNOPSIS -> Your Ex Jungwon and you share a passionate night that revives your connection. Amid the heat of the moment and the challenges of his idol life, you begin to rebuild trust and explore your bond in a deeper way.

PAIRING: idol!ex!jungwon x nonidol!ex!fem!reader

GENRE: romance, drama, slice of life, fluff, suggestive (no smut)

STARTED: 2/13/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 4.5k

Note: Inspired by "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys. While suggestive, it focuses on rebuilding trust and connection without explicit content.

click here for the song

Masterlist

Jungwon had always been a dreamer. The kind of boy who carried the weight of his ambitions like second skin, who burned so brightly that you knew if you got too close, you’d end up scorched.

When you met him, he was already on the cusp of something bigger than himself—on the verge of debuting, of stepping into the world as ENHYPEN’s leader, of trading the ordinary for the extraordinary.

And you? You were just someone who happened to be there at the right time. Or maybe the wrong time.

It was never supposed to be anything serious. A late-night conversation that turned into another, and then another. Stolen hours between practices, secret glances in crowded rooms, whispered confessions in the dark when no one else was listening.

You loved him in the quiet moments—when he wasn’t Jungwon, the idol, but Jungwon, the boy who still got nervous before performances, who laughed until his stomach hurt, who traced absent-minded patterns on your skin when he thought you were asleep.

But love wasn’t always enough.

The distance started small. Missed calls. Unread messages. Promises of next time that never came.

Then came the rumors. The late-night schedules. The growing realization that no matter how much he loved you, he belonged to the world first.

You had never been naïve—you knew what dating an idol meant. You knew what it meant to be someone’s secret, to exist in the spaces between rehearsals and fan meetings, to never be the name in his thank-you speeches.

Still, you stayed.

Until one night, when he showed up at your door, exhausted, drenched from the rain, eyes pleading in a way that made your chest ache.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?”

“This. Us.”

Your heart cracked right down the middle. Because you knew. You knew.

That no matter how much he wanted you, he would never be able to hold onto you the way he wanted.

And so you let him go.

Or at least, you tried.

But some loves aren’t meant to be severed cleanly. Some linger like ghosts, haunting you in the songs that play late at night, in the drinks you sip too slowly, in the quiet moments where you swear you still feel his warmth beside you.

You both told yourselves it was over.

But the truth was, neither of you ever really let go.

---

Jungwon knew he should have moved on by now.

It would have been easier if you had hated him. If you had slammed the door in his face that night, screamed at him, told him he was selfish for making you wait, for loving you in half-measures. But you didn’t. You just looked at him with those tired, knowing eyes, and let him go.

And that was the problem. You never fought him on it. Never begged him to stay. You just understood—and somehow, that made it worse.

Because Jungwon had spent so much of his life fighting. Fighting to be good enough, to prove himself, to lead a group at an age where most people were still figuring themselves out. Fighting to keep up, to stay ahead, to be the version of himself that the world expected him to be.

But you? You never asked him to fight for you. And maybe that was why he couldn’t let go.

Because late at night, when the exhaustion crept in and the hotel room felt too empty, he found himself wondering—what if he had fought? What if he had been braver, had held onto you a little tighter instead of letting the weight of his world push you away?

Would you still be his?

Or had he already lost you to the life he chose?

Jungwon sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared at his phone, your name still pinned at the top of his messages.

He could text you.

He wanted to.

But what would he even say?

"I still think about you."

"I still dream about you."

"I still don’t know how to let you go."

But none of those would change the fact that he had already walked away.

And he wasn’t sure if he had the right to crawl back.

---

Jungwon never drank much.

He was careful—always had been. Careful with his words, his actions, the way he carried himself in public. Careful because he had no choice but to be. As an idol, there was always a camera, always a headline waiting to be written, always someone watching.

But tonight, he didn’t care.

The bar was tucked away in some dimly lit alley, the kind of place where no one would expect to find him. It was quiet, not crowded, the low hum of conversation blending into the soft music playing through the speakers.

He sat in the corner, hoodie pulled low over his face, fingers wrapped around a glass he’d barely touched. The ice clinked against the sides as he swirled it absentmindedly, watching the liquid slosh against the rim.

He wasn’t sure why he was here.

Or maybe he was.

Maybe it was because it was late, and he was alone, and the weight of everything felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was because he kept seeing your face in the glow of streetlights, kept hearing your voice in the spaces between songs, kept feeling your presence like a phantom in the air.

Or maybe it was because drinking felt like the closest thing to recklessness he could afford.

He exhaled sharply, bringing the glass to his lips, letting the bitterness burn its way down.

It didn’t help.

Didn’t drown out the memories.

Didn’t silence the thought that if he picked up his phone right now—if he called you, even though it was stupid and selfish—you might still answer.

Would you?

Would you pick up, or would you let it ring? Would you be annoyed, or would you already know why he was calling?

Would you tell him to stop? To move on?

Or would you let him come back, just one more time?

The thought made his chest tighten.

Jungwon ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back as he leaned against the wall. He knew he should leave. Should go home before someone recognized him, before this turned into something it shouldn’t.

But he stayed.

Because here, in the haze of alcohol and dim lights, it was easier to pretend that he wasn’t an idol. That he wasn’t ENHYPEN’s leader, that he wasn’t someone with expectations suffocating him at every turn.

Here, he was just a boy with a broken heart, drinking alone in a place where no one knew his name.

And for now, that was enough.

The bass of some distant song rattles the walls.

It’s your song. The one that somehow became yours, the one that drags him back to you no matter how far he tries to run.

He leans against the counter, fingers curled around the rim of a half-empty glass. The ice has melted, watering down whatever courage he thought he had. His phone sits beside him, screen dimmed, your name perched at the top of his messages—untouched but never ignored.

He wonders if you feel the same. If your fingers hover over his contact late at night, if his name lingers on your lips when no one else is around. If you ever get that ache in your chest, the one that stays like something stuck between your teeth—impossible to shake, impossible to ignore.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before grabbing his phone. His pulse thrums in his ears as he types, erases, types again. He’s never been good at this—at closing doors, at walking away, at pretending he doesn’t dream about you nearly every damn night.

Jungwon: Are you still awake?

The message sends before he can second-guess himself, before he can remind himself that maybe you’ve moved on. That maybe he should move on.

Three dots appear. Vanish. Reappear.

You: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

His lips curve, a bitter smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jungwon: Shouldn’t you?

A pause. Then—

You: Where are you?

It’s an invitation. Maybe not the one he should accept, but the one he wants. The one he always will.

___

The city hums beneath him as he walks, hands in his pockets, breath curling in the cool night air. He doesn’t have to think about where he’s going—his feet already know the way.

Your door is unlocked. A small act of trust, or maybe just a quiet expectation.

You’re there, curled up on the couch, the glow from the streetlights painting soft shadows on your face. There’s a drink on the table, condensation pooling around the base. You don’t say anything as he steps inside, don’t ask why he’s here—because you both already know the answer.

Maybe tomorrow, he’ll regret this. Maybe tomorrow, he’ll tell himself it should’ve ended a long time ago. But for now, with your warmth seeping into his side and your scent filling his lungs—

For now, he’s yours.

The air in your apartment is thick—humid from the warmth of too many emotions left unspoken, heavy with the scent of rain-soaked fabric and something undeniably him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, but there’s no real conviction in your voice.

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smirk, isn’t quite regret. “You let me in.”

You don’t answer, because what is there to say? That you knew it was a mistake the moment you saw his name on your phone? That even after everything, after the distance, the silence, the aching months of trying to forget—you still wanted him?

Jungwon exhales, stepping further inside, closing the door behind him. The sound of it clicking shut sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s always like this. Always him showing up at your doorstep with the weight of the world on his shoulders, always you letting him in even when you shouldn’t.

“Jungwon—”

But you don’t get to finish, because suddenly, he’s closer. Close enough that you can see the way his damp hair clings to his forehead, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill outside.

His fingers brush your wrist—barely there, like a question, like he’s waiting for permission. Your breath catches.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs.

You should. You know you should.

Instead, your fingers curl around the front of his hoodie, tugging him forward, and that’s all he needs.

He exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath all this time, as if this—you—is the only thing he’s been aching for. His hands find your waist, sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, fingertips ghosting over your skin, sending heat curling down your spine.

Your back hits the wall, his body pressing against yours, and suddenly, there’s no space left between you. His breath is warm against your cheek, his nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering—so damn close—

“You’re drunk,” you murmur, but you don’t push him away.

Jungwon chuckles, low and rough. “Barely.”

And then, finally, he closes the distance.

His lips are warm, insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and something undeniably him. He kisses you slowly, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he had to pretend he didn’t want this.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and the sound he makes in response—deep, breathy, almost desperate—sends a shiver straight through you. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel every inch of him against you.

It’s dangerous, the way you fit so perfectly together.

His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “I shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs against your skin.

But neither of you stop.

Because in this moment, with his hands on your body and his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake, there is no past, no future.

There is only this.

And neither of you want to let go.

Jungwon’s breath is hot against your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin like a question he already knows the answer to. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he exhales sharply, his grip on your waist shifting—tighter, hungrier.

Your back presses further into the wall as he leans in, his body fitting against yours like he belongs there. Like he’s never left. His hands slip under your sweater, fingertips tracing slow, deliberate circles against your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but the way his lips brush over your pulse, the way his fingers flex against your hips, tells you he’s praying you won’t.

You don’t.

Instead, your hands slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, pushing it up, desperate to feel more of him. His skin is warm beneath your touch, muscles tensing slightly as your palms explore the familiar planes of his back. You feel the way his breath stutters against your neck when your nails drag lightly down his spine, the way his lips part as if he’s about to say something—

But then he kisses you again, and this time, there’s no hesitation.

It’s slow but deep, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t take his time. His hands move to your thighs, gripping them just hard enough to make your breath hitch before he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like it’s second nature.

You feel the sharp inhale he takes against your lips as your body presses flush against his. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you steady, his grip possessive—like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not when his lips trail lower, not when he murmurs your name against your collarbone like a prayer, not when his teeth graze over sensitive skin, leaving a mark that neither of you will acknowledge in the morning but both of you will remember.

Your hands push his hoodie up further, your fingertips pressing into his toned stomach, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. He groans softly at that, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Jungwon,” you whisper, and it’s all it takes—

For him to press you harder against the wall, for his lips to find yours again, for the heat between you to grow unbearable, undeniable.

For a moment, nothing else exists. Not the past, not the consequences, not the inevitable morning that will come too soon.

There is only this.

Only the way he kisses you like he’s never stopped wanting you.

Only the way your body responds to him like you were made for each other.

Only the way neither of you say the words lingering between you—

"I never stopped thinking about you."

"I don’t know how to let you go."

“Stay."

Because right now, neither of you need to say it.

Right now, you’re both exactly where you want to be.

---

After everything, the room feels quieter, almost serene. The weight of their shared silence lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that says everything needs time. Both of you, tangled together, breathing in sync, a gentle hum of the city filling the background.

Jungwon pulls you close, his hand resting on your back as you both lie on the couch, the warmth of his body enveloping you. His hoodie, now discarded somewhere on the floor, leaves a faint smell of him on your skin, a reminder that tonight was not just physical, but something much more profound.

His thumb runs gentle circles along your back, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a rhythm that calms the racing thoughts in your head. There’s an ease in the way he holds you, a comfort in the way he breathes like he’s found something he’s been searching for. Something he’s been missing.

The night still feels alive between you, the intensity of it lingering in the way his fingers trace your skin. But there’s a tenderness now. An unspoken promise.

“Y/n,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words hang in the air like they’re fragile, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “I know we’ve been through a lot... I’ve been messed up for so long, I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You turn your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and you can see the vulnerability in them—the raw, unguarded part of him he rarely lets anyone see. The part that aches for connection, for understanding.

“I’ve missed you, Jungwon,” you say softly, your voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t want to let go, either.”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours, the touch comforting, grounding. His lips brush against your skin in a gesture that’s almost reverent. “I never should’ve let you go. I’ve realized that now.”

You nod, closing your eyes, trying to fight back the emotion threatening to spill over. The pain that had existed between you two for so long now felt like it had been washed away—washed away by this night, by this quiet moment, by the understanding that, in the end, it wasn’t about the time lost, but the time you were still willing to give each other.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight,” you whisper. “But we can start again. Together. If you want that.”

Jungwon’s eyes soften, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he brushes his thumb over your skin, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do. I really do.”

And that’s all you need to hear. The future feels less uncertain now, even if it’s unclear exactly where it will lead. Right now, all that matters is that you’ve found your way back to each other.

As you settle deeper into his embrace, the night stretches on—quiet, gentle, full of new beginnings. The warmth of his body beside you is all the reassurance you need.

No more questions. No more doubt.

Just the certainty that, this time, you won’t let go.

---

The days after that night are a blur of quiet efforts and small, meaningful gestures. Jungwon wants to show you—wants to prove that this time is different, that this time he’s really ready to do the work.

It starts with the flowers.

One morning, you wake up to a soft knock at your door. When you open it, a delivery man is standing there, holding a bouquet of white roses, tied with a delicate ribbon. The note is simple, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

For you, always. - Jungwon.

A smile tugs at your lips. You can’t help it. His sincerity is overwhelming. He’s always been careful with his words, but now there’s something more—something genuine in the way he’s making an effort to show you, not just tell you.

Later that day, your phone buzzes with a message from him.

---

Jungwon:

Good morning, y/n. I hope your day’s as beautiful as you are. I was thinking about you. I know things haven’t been easy, but I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. No more running away. I’m staying. ❤️

You feel a warmth spread through you as you read his words. The night you shared feels so fresh in your mind, but it’s these little moments—the flowers, the messages—that help ease the heaviness you had been carrying. Jungwon isn’t just saying the right things, he’s showing you the changes, taking action to rebuild the trust that had been shaken.

---

Jungwon’s members start to notice the difference too. His smile is brighter, lighter, and there’s a certain determination in his step. They can tell something’s changed, but it’s not just because of his mood—it’s because he’s clearly trying.

One evening, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, and Sunoo are all hanging out in the dorm when Jungwon walks into the room, a slight nervousness in his eyes but also a quiet sense of contentment.

“Hyung, what’s with you today?” Ni-ki teases, raising an eyebrow. “You’re glowing, man.”

Jungwon grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m just... trying to make up for things.”

Sunoo squints at him, a playful smirk forming. “Is this about y/n?”

Jungwon hesitates for a split second, but then he nods, his cheeks going pink. “Yeah, we’re... we’re back together.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen in surprise, then he smirks. “Back together, huh? Didn’t see that coming.”

Sunoo laughs, clapping Jungwon on the back. “Honestly, I’m glad to hear it. You’ve been all over the place, man. I can tell you’re really trying now.”

Jungwon nods earnestly, his voice softer. “I’m not taking any chances this time. I really want it to work.”

Ni-ki, who had been watching Jungwon closely, finally smiles. “Well, if you’re going to do this, do it right. We’re rooting for you.”

There’s a quiet moment where Jungwon just absorbs the words from his members, a warm sense of belonging flooding him. He’s not alone in this. They’re behind him, supporting him. And that feeling of solidarity, of knowing that his efforts to redeem himself are being noticed, makes him more determined than ever.

As the days go by, Jungwon continues to send you messages, little updates, sweet reminders that he’s here and he’s serious. Sometimes, it’s a simple good morning text. Other times, it’s a song he’s found that reminds him of you. He keeps his word, showing you that his feelings are genuine.

With each message, each gesture, he’s slowly chipping away at the wall of doubt you’d built around your heart. And, bit by bit, you’re beginning to trust him again.

---

The weeks after Jungwon’s apology are a gentle progression. Both of you take your time, step by step, to rebuild what had once been broken. It’s not perfect, nor is it always easy, but the foundation is there. With each passing day, the cracks between you start to heal, the trust slowly returning as you both work toward a fresh start.

Jungwon makes the effort. He’s present. He’s here. And this time, when he tells you he loves you, you feel it in every action he takes—whether it’s a text at the start of the day, a song he dedicates to you during a live broadcast, or a spontaneous surprise like a hand-written note hidden in your coat pocket.

But you both know that the biggest hurdle you face isn’t just about trust—it’s the reality of his life as an idol. The public eye. The need to keep your relationship quiet, for both your sakes.

At first, it’s an adjustment. There are days when he’s gone for hours, sometimes even days, caught up in the whirlwind of schedules, rehearsals, and performances. You’re used to seeing his face on TV, his smile on stage, but it’s also a reminder of how careful you both have to be. Any hint of your relationship could lead to rumors—rumors that could hurt both of you in ways you’re not prepared for.

Jungwon is the one who sets the boundaries early on. He tells you, quietly, one night when he’s sitting next to you on the couch, his hand gently holding yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he says, his voice low and serious, “but we have to be careful. If people find out… it could mess everything up. For me, for you. I want us to be happy, but I also need to protect this, protect you.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. It’s not just about the two of you anymore. His career, his public persona, is something neither of you can ignore. It’s a balancing act—a dance between holding on to what’s personal and keeping it under wraps, for the sake of your relationship and his career.

“I get it,” you reply softly, squeezing his hand. “We can make it work. We’ll be careful.”

And you are. You spend most of your time together behind closed doors, in quiet, private moments. But every once in a while, when the chance comes, you steal moments in public. Small touches that go unnoticed by most. A hand brushing against his when you walk side-by-side, a quick kiss on the cheek when you think no one’s looking. It’s subtle but meaningful, the little things that remind you both of the love you’ve found again.

There are days when the stress of keeping everything a secret weighs on you. It’s hard. It’s lonely at times. You can’t go out for spontaneous dates or hold hands in public like normal couples do. But in those moments, Jungwon reassures you, reminding you that you’re not alone in this. He texts you when he’s on the move, always finding a way to check in, even when his schedule is packed. Sometimes it’s a quick “I miss you,” other times it’s a photo of a sunset he’s caught from his hotel room—anything to bridge the distance between you.

But what makes it work is the trust. You trust him now—completely. You know that he’s serious, that he’s not going anywhere. He’s shown you that, not with grand gestures, but with quiet, consistent love.

You’ve learned to navigate the highs and lows of his idol life together, understanding that there will be tough days when he’s exhausted or when the pressure of fame gets to him. You’ve learned to give each other space when needed, but you’ve also found comfort in those shared moments—those quiet nights when he comes home after a long day, finally free to unwind in the safety of your shared space.

When things get difficult, when the rumors or the pressure of his public life start to weigh heavily on both of you, Jungwon is always the one to remind you why it’s worth it. “We’re in this together,” he’ll say, his hand resting on your shoulder, his voice steady and unwavering. “This is real. What we have—it’s worth everything.”

And you believe him.

The key to making it work is balance. You’ve learned how to stay grounded, to protect each other’s privacy while also nurturing your love. It’s not always easy, but in the end, it feels worth it. There’s a peace that settles between you both as you continue to build your relationship, one day at a time, trusting that with each step forward, you’re stronger than before.

No matter the challenges that come with being with someone in the spotlight, no matter the secrets you have to keep, you both know that this—what you have—is real. And that’s all that matters.

Together, you can handle anything.

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[dutiful-wildcraft]

Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!

Poly 141 x F!OC. Previous. Villagers

Pt. 2: Paloma Meets Price

Johnny and Kyle lied to him. 

Horrid little pack mates, he should have known something was up when the pair were unusually quiet during their weekly friday night at the inn. 

John knew their newcomer had just arrived a few days prior, not that he had a lot of hope for the poor sod. People have come and gone to town before. Young bucks who thought they could hack it with the sweat off their backs. Most came because of the allure of the peaceful countryside, but quickly left when they realized luxury was a limited resource. 

John had sat at the bar, whiskey in hand, something deep in his soul easing at seeing the townsfolk all inside, laughing and happy. They were a pseudo-pack of sorts, not everyone bonded, not like him and his boys, but he remained protective of them all the same. It was sheer fortune that he'd built the pack that he had, beautiful, strong and resourceful as they were. It was an absolute dream to have them all together, safe in their little village. He wasn't particularly keen on adding another, though he supposed it was inevitable. 

The town's economy had been struggling since the earthquake cut down on business. Perhaps a new face wouldn't hurt…

Johnny and Kyle’s laughter pulled his attention, the pair playing some sort of roleplaying game at a nearby table, the party bantering after defeating a band of monsters. 

“The goblin floats lazily down the river, slowly…like, comically slow, and you know it won't be long before the rest of his hoard realizes he's missing.” Alex narrates, looking amused, (and just a little tired) after overseeing yet another harrowing adventure, all while the boys giggle and high five.

“I LOOK AROUND” Soap blurts, bypassing any structure of the game. 

“You don't wanna take a short rest first?” Alex retorts sharply.

“I did not lose any health” Farah cuts in, arms crossed, pointedly looking at Soap.

“Rest mate, you've only got 1 health point left.” Gaz adds.

“Ach fine, I rest. Then, I look around.” Soap laments.

Alex smirks, “We're resting so you can start fresh next week, but before we go” he leans in, mischief in his eyes. “You see a stranger, you know anything about strangers, Mactavish? Garrick?” He looks between them suspiciously. 

And this is what really gets John's attention, makes him turn away from the bar inconspicuously. Even Farah turns, schmoozing in close to Alex to fix the pair of men with an additional suspicious gaze, eyes narrowed.

The alphas share a look, a silent conversation happening between the long time friends before they're both shrugging in unison. 

Both Alex and Farah throw up their hands.

“Come off it boys, we know you've talked to the newbie.” Laswell calls from behind the bar, her wife Madeline grinning over her shoulder. 

John feels just a bit sour. They didn't tell him, they'd met the newcomer. 

The pair hem and haw.

“They seem alright” Gaz says, noncommittal.

Soap nods, “Real busy, they've got their hands full out there, for sure.”

“That's a whole lotta nothing.” comes a gruff voice, Ghost perched near the fireplace. 

John finally cuts in, his own god damned curiosity too much to bear. He feels a bit like a teenager, wants to know every detail, what they're like, what was their name, what did they look like, designation, etc. He reels it back instead.

“Are they going to stick around is what I want to know.” he grouses, taking another swig. If he were watching a little more closely, he would have seen the playful glint in both of his alpha's eyes. 

“Can't be sure.” Gaz replies, hiding a smile behind his drink.

“Maybe you should give ‘em a chat, Cap, see for yerself” Soap chimes in. “Not sure you two will jive though” he adds, staring absently into his mug. 

John wasn’t a tough man to get along with, just selective.

He huffs through his nose, finishes off his drink. It would have to wait. He'd already promised to help Nik with a few “projects” in the capital. Maybe the newcomer would be gone by the time he came back, that'd be one less problem to worry about.

~

He’d arrived back late monday evening, leaving Nik to unload his stock while he settled into a desk in the museum reception area, working through his portion of the collections paperwork and local donations. Desk work was never his favorite, but the peace and quiet of the old place, accompanied by the soft patter of rain against the large pane windows would be plenty to lull his weary mind to rest when the time came. He looked forward to crawling into one of his pack’s beds after a long weekend away. 

He’d settled in nicely, cigar in hand and hot evening tea, when the heavy wooden doors of the museum open, wind gently rustling the pages on his desk. He doesn’t look up right away, it’s probably Simon, coming by to check in. 

What he was not expecting however, was the soft round thing that tiptoes inside. Wet squeaky boots on marble as she blinks at him. She's a mess, dirt smeared on her sweet round cheeks and worn denim overalls, the soaked fabric hugging her soft tummy and wide hips, silvery hair tied back in messy twin braids dripping onto the floor. 

He stares. 

She stares. 

She’s the first to recover,  flashing him a sheepish smile, eyes bright behind big round glasses. His heart stutters just a bit. 

This was the newcomer?

“Hello! I’m sorry, I must have missed you earlier.” she chimes, seemingly unphased by her own disheveled appearance as she slips closer, slinging a heavy backpack from her shoulders with a soft grunt, the pickaxe at her back clanging noisily to the floor with the action.  

Who gave her a bloody pickaxe??

She slings out a hand and introduces herself, wrenching it back quickly to smear the remnant dirt from her hands onto her overalls before extending it again with an apologetic smile. 

It’s not often that John Price is dumbfounded, but it was certainly not every day that a big soft girl walks into his museum, especially not one like this. He didn't even realize he’d stood up, snuffling at the air like an old hound, trying to get just a whiff of the pretty thing. She’s an omega, he can feel it in his bones, something just on the edge of his biological periphery that makes his teeth ache. Her scent is nearly nonexistent under the earth and rain, but it’s there, sugary sweet like blueberry pancakes.  Something ugly preens in the back of his mind. 

Ah yes, this one is staying. 

“Are you alright, Captain?” 

He’s swift, snapping out of his thoughts to clamp his hand in hers. She’s cold to the touch, hands damp and freezing. Unacceptable. 

“Are you alright sweetheart? What have you been doing?” He rounds the desk, keeping her hand aloft, thumb rubbing at her skin in a weak attempt to warm her up as he looks her over. 

She had better not be doing what he thinks she was doing.

“Oh I’m peachy! Just doing a bit of mining, time just got away from me is all.” she laughs, nerves apparent in her soft english lilt. 

She was.

He bites back an exasperated huff, brows furrowed in displeasure as he scans her from head to toe. She goes still, nervous, like a pup as he comes closer. She’s filthy, but doesn’t appear to be injured, just…clumsy, the ass of her overalls covered in mud from where she’d apparently fallen, several times, but otherwise okay. His brain slows down just a little. 

“You were in the mines?” he asks incredulously, her hand slipping from his as she jumps back to life. “And who’d you learn ‘Captain’ from?”

“Yes!” she chirps, she’s beyond excited, dropping to her knees to root through her backpack, the sound of stones and tin clanking around in its confines. ”Soap and Gaz told me all about you, said you were always pretty busy, but I’d catch you eventually.” She pauses her rummaging, whipping back around to point at him ”They speak very highly of you by the way.” she tells him, as if the words were an important message she was tasked to bring to him. 

Of course. Conniving little shits, both of them. Trying to sell him false goods. He would have both of their heads later for hogging this pretty girl all to themselves. Telling lies. Though part of him was proud, they knew him all too well, at least well enough to know he had a big soft spot for pretty birds.

All he can do is hum, watching her with no small amount of confusion as she continues to root. It appears she’s never met a stranger, bulldozing over any social formalities unwittingly.  

“I’ve read mining used to be a big deal here, a great source of revenue.” she rambles giddily, “I didn’t think I would have much luck but look!” She yanks out an armful of dirt covered items, and bless her, Price doesn’t have the heart to tell her most of it is shit. Common coal and some exceptionally glittery rocks, but more importantly something else catches his eye, green and chitinous. 

“Is that a bloody bug?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah! Alex told me you all were looking to make some new collections, and I noticed you didn’t have much in the way of entomology. I thought it’d be a fun thing to start!”

Fun.

Price has spent years of his life, smashing these flying demons deep in the mines, and here she was catching them. As odd as she is, the pure passion in her eyes is incredibly endearing. It was already a miracle that the goofy thing had climbed down there on her own, come out with a bag full of rocks and a bug, all without being crushed, stung or bitten. 

He’d known the girl for a whole 10 minutes and already had his hands full.

He would need to have a serious talk with her about going down there again, but in the meantime he had no intention of crushing her spirit. She reminds him of Soap, brilliant and bright as a star, and it brings a fond smile to his lips. 

“Quite industrious aren’t you Miss Hadley? Looks like you’ve found quite a bit, I’ll take a better look at these in the morning” he explains, carefully placing her prizes in a bin for later, “I’ll have your payment for the donations sent later in the day. For now, It’s far too late for pretty girls to be out this late, you're soaked to the bone.” 

She blinks a bit, as if it just occurred to her, “Oh yes, didn’t think it would rain quite this hard all day.” she laughs a bit awkwardly, recollecting her soggy backpack. “I didn’t mean to disturb your evening.” she grabs her pickaxe (the one he was half tempted to hide and hope she forgot) before angling herself toward the door. 

John has to actively bite back the harsh no bubbling up his throat at her escape attempt. 

He’s never felt like such a muppet in his life. He needs to feed her, warm her up, but he has nothing here, just some granola bars and breakfast tea, no blanket, she was already shivering. 

He could bully her into his home if he really wanted to, it’s just down the road...strip her down and dry her off.

She’s halfway to the door when he breaks out of his thoughts, damn near sputtering like a drowning man. “Wait.” 

And much to his pleasure she stops on a dime, yielding easily to his voice. “Not going out there by yourself, absolutely not.” he huffs, stomping over to her, snagging his jacket from the rack beside the door and slinging it over her shoulders. He was being too much, he knows, opening the door for her and covering her with his umbrella as he ushers her to her home, taking the brunt of the rain just to keep her covered. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, need. 

“This is very kind of you” Paloma tells him, voice grown timid, but she stops short, cold little hands giving his forearm a tug, “but we can at least share.” She presses in close, the pair now walking shoulder to shoulder in the cool summer rain. He has to clear his throat to stop the rumbling purr deep in his chest. 

“Too sweet for your own good” he murmurs, biting back a grin when she doesn’t hear him the first time. He changes tactics smoothly. 

“I said, what on earth were you doing down there?”

“Oh, just trying to give everything a go. I won’t know I like something until I give it a try right? Plus everyone here seems to need a hand, I’m just happy to help.” she smiles up at him. And John really thinks this sweet girl may stick around, not because he wants her too, but because she wants too, with a heart too big to fail. He decides he’ll help her with anything if she just asks. Hell, even if she doesn’t.

They chat idly the rest of the way, boots squelching on the muddy dirt path. He learns she’s quite the reader , and crafter, and a myriad of other things, having shoved her fingers into every pie she’s come across. He tells her about his past as a foreman, his stint in the military, his work with the museum since the earthquake, and it tickles him with how intently she listens, nodding along to his every word.  

Before he knows they’ve arrived, the soft glow of her porch lantern guiding them in, and part of him wishes she lived just a little farther away, if only to steal some extra time. 

He guides her up the steps, his hand in hers, standing dutifully as she fishes out her key and steps inside. Safe.

He’s only a little flustered when she shrugs off his jacket and swings it back over his shoulders, his height causing her to fumble a little. Shrouding him in petrichor and blueberry sugar.

“Right,” he coughs “You get warmed up, and lock this behind you, didn’t walk you home for something else to get you.” He taps at her door seriously. 

“Yes sir.” she chimes, and his stomach swoops. Fingers itching to dig into warm soft skin, he was being tested, he was certain of it. 

“John, lovie, call me John.”

“Okay John, be safe” she smiles, waving goodbye with a shy wiggle of her fingers. He has to make himself turn away,  waits to hear the click of her lock before trotting down her steps. 

John purrs the whole way home. 

[eggbem]

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episodes I wish we could have gotten (in no particular order):

The turtles get cloaking charms to look human, like Sunita or Big Mama have (I just wanna know what they'd look like as humans, canonically)

A flashback of the first time the turtles met April

More Donnie and Raph content (More Brains and Brawn, please and thank you)

More Donnie and Leo content

So much more more Mikey content in general

Casey Jr. adapting to living in not-the-apocalypse

Casey Jr. flashing back to all his future's turts and his April, and comparing them to their younger counterparts

Raph bonding with Cassandra (because raph and casey brotp ftw)

Cassandra bonding with Casey Jr.

We meet April's parents and April's parents meet the Hamatos

MORE TIME WITH GRAM-GRAM KARAI maybe before she got got (a flashback kinda ep) or Mikey talks to her as a Hamato ghost idk

An episode about Big Mama's masked lackey (I know we got a reveal for her in the anniversary comic, but I want to know mooore)

Another girls night episode, but with April, Sunita AND Cassandra

Cassandra trying to un-Krangify the foot leaders

Actually, maybe also an entire episode (or series of episodes) dedicated to addressing the fallout and trauma from the Krang invasion

The Crying Titan. 'Nuff said.

Draxum winning over the rest of the brothers (My theory on how it would go down: Donnie's the next most receptive besides Mikey. Raph's trust is harder to earn, but is won over when Raph sees how Draxum wants to protect the family as much as he does. Leo's...gonna take some work)

Leveling up ninja training, working on each turtle's weakest area. This would probably work better as multiple episodes, where in each one, Splinter focuses on one turtle's training and they root out some deeper-seated personal issues. And maybe working around post-krang injuries (Mikey's arms, Leo's leg, Donnie's shell, Raph's eye)

More Todd and the weird dentist poachers, there was definitely supposed to be more there

More Hueso, maybe with another turtle besides Leo

Agent Bishop and Sister Krang

More Mud Dogs, with Sean Astin voicing Heinous Green

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiiii I wanted to request hazbin boys x injured male reader? Reader gets into a scuffle, gets roughed up quite a bit and comes home not looking too well (I wanna see em fuss over the reader lol)

Mmph, yes yes, I love boys fussing over their injured darling. Too fuckin cute! I have so many great requests for Hazbin and Helluva, I’m so excited 🫨 thanks for the request and enjoy anon 💟

Notes: gn!reader bc anyone can get into a scuffle so why not, mostly fluff with a sprinkle of angst

TW: blood, bruises, fighting, cussing, of course it’s suggestive during Angel’s part 😉

Includes Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and Alastor

Hazbin boys x reader- Bruises 🖤

You’re not sure who roughed you up, you barely got a look at the dudes before you were laid out on the dirty sidewalk getting punched and trying to push one of the perpetrators off you. Whoever he was, he was strong and brutal and must’ve really had a problem with you because damn, you were fucked up. Not that you couldn’t hold your own, but there was more than one of them and they really caught you off guard. You had suffered several blows to the face and a few kicks to the stomach and back. Seemed like the group showed just a bit of mercy tho- they could’ve broken your legs or straight up killed you. Luckily, you limped away with only minor injuries but a huge blow to your psyche. While it could’ve been worse, it was horrific and traumatizing regardless.

It’s hard trying to stay tough and take care of yourself because you’re scared, feeling like you’ll have to look over your shoulder from now on when you’re out on the streets. It was also a bit embarrassing considering Husk and Angel offered to tag along with you to keep you safe but your dumb ass insisted you were fine alone.

It was late now, around the time everyone went to bed at the hotel so you were expecting to silently creep inside, hobble to your room and take care of yourself in secret. And if anyone asked about the marks or bruises the next day, you’d just blame it on a wild night of partying. To your surprise, as you walk in the door the entirety of the hotel’s staff and residents were sitting on the floor and couches in the front room, drinking and talking by the fireplace. Of course, Charlie had everyone doing some bonding bullshit late at night. The sound of the door clicking open has everyone’s eyes looking towards you now. “Ah, shit…” Leaves your swollen lips as the crowd gasps and one by one, they all stand and approach your damaged figure. Finally, the one person you really didn’t want to see you like this comes rushing forward to get a good look at you.

Lucifer 🍎

“Oh, Satan! (Y/N), are you okay? What happened? Ohhh, my poor angel!”

Proceeds to fuss and worry over you while wearing the saddest expression :,( his poor bb

Might actually cry a little…just hurts him to see his darling all banged up.

It’s not just the physical pain he senses, it’s the emotional pain you feel too- the fear and the trauma and the stress of it all

His hands just hover all around the most damaged parts of you- fingers almost touching your eye which was now swollen shut, his thumb ghosting over your busted bottom lip

Whisks you away to his room and runs you a bath. Gets you all clean and is probably still whining and crying over you as he watches the bath water turn red with all the blood washing off you and gets you ready for bed.

He’s an emotional man, okay?

He also feels extremely guilty for not being there to protect you. Even if you bluntly told him you don’t need his protection, he feels like it’s still his fault at least a little bit.

Miiiiiiight start a silly little argument over you never leaving the hotel or his side ever again lol

“I just want to protect you, my love. Please! Stop being stubborn.”

He’ll really really baby you tho.

Like even if your legs are working fine, NOPE! Don’t move an inch. Luci will carry you anywhere you desire.

“Lucifer, I just have a black eye and some scrapes. I can walk just fine, babe.”

And he’ll just ignore you and continue to coddle you and do everything for you

For sure this man peppers very gentle, very soft and slow kisses on your tender face once you’re cleaned up and finally resting in his bed

And he for sure cries again in the morning when he wakes up and your face looks even worse

Probably even panics a bit like-

“IM TAKING YOU TO A HOSPITAL OH MY SATAN!!! MY POOR BABY WWAAAA!”

“It’s just some bruises! Luci, they always look worse before they look better, I’m fine.”

Just calm him down with some kisses and words of love

Angel Dust 🕸️

“Holy shit! What happened, babe? Oh no…this is bad. This is sooo bad! This is why we wanted to go with ya.”

Also gets very dramatic and concerned, looks so sad over your battle wounds

But of course he’s a flirt even under tough circumstances and can make a dirty joke even in the most dire situations

He’d definitely tell you you look hot asf and that you’re soooo brave~

Tries to lighten the mood a bit

“(Y/N), I wanna be the only one who gets to rough you up.” *pouts but also winks at you*

Angel has had his fair share of beatings courtesy of Valentino so he’s very good at first aid and knows tons of tricks to help with bruising, cuts, scrapes, preventing scars, relieving the pain.

He’s great at the clean up part but even better at the comfort part

Brings out all six arms to wrap you up in while you lay in his bed, cuddling up to you while offering soft kisses to the parts of you that aren’t so sore.

Angel is always down to fuck so if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll offer you some great sexual healing while being oh so careful of all your wounds and all the painful spots.

Will let you take control too, he hopes it’ll make you feel better and maybe return some of the confidence you lost from this scuffle.

He can spot a bruised ego from a mile away and he’ll do anything to get you feeling happy and secure again.

Also argues with you about never letting you go anywhere alone ever again lol he just loves you too much. If you’re gonna get jumped, he’s either gonna be there to help you out of it or he’s gonna be taking half the beating right next to you.

Reminds me of a song…

“I wanna walk with you, wherever you go to. I wanna hurt with you. Whatever you go through, I do too.” -sour switchblade by Elita

Yeah that’s Angel, just wants to be beside you no matter the circumstances

Husk 🃏

“Oh, you dummy! This is why we wanted to go with you. Oh, doll face. Who did this? You alright?”

Yeah, he’s mean sometimes so he’s gonna scold you for going out alone before the comforting starts.

Ultimately, he doesn’t pull you away to get you cleaned up or anything. Lets you decide what to do next, where to go. He just follows you and keeps a hand on you somewhere to let you know he’s here for you.

Will whip up any drink you ask for in hopes of it relieving the pain a bit

But he’s sneaky, he’s gonna ask you tons of questions about what happened, who did it, where you were, how many of them there was. Won’t give you your drink until you answer him.

Husk is plottin and schemin, wanting to get back at the assholes who did this to you. Hes thinking about all the cool, little weapons he has and what he can do with them to teach those jerks a lesson.

In the end tho, he does get more sentimental and soft spoken later while cuddled up to you in bed.

He’ll purr softly in your ear while letting his hands gently roam your body, tracing comforting circles all over your bruised skin

Will def wrap you up in his silky wings and then proceed to pour out his entire heart to you.

“I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay. You need to listen to me. I know better than you, I’ve been down here a long time. You have to be more careful. I dunno what I’d do if I lost ya, doll. You gotta stick with me, I’ll always protect ya.”

Once you fall asleep, he wanders out to the lobby to find Angel at the bar and there they talk about teaming up to get revenge on the assholes who dared to touch Husk’s little babe

The next morning, of course they’re still talking about it. You’ll have to tell these idiots to stop and just let it go bc omg they sound crazy rn they’re gonna make a mess if you let this continue

Buuuut if you kinda like them fussing over you this much, then by all means let them do their thing as you sit back and enjoy the attention

Ooooh, Husky is getting maadddd. Kinda cute when he lets a protective growl slip out while talking to Angel. Aww he loves you~

Sir Pentious 🐍

Immediate tears and full blown panic attack at the sight of your battered face.

“OH MY GOODNESSSSSS!!! My baby! My darling! Ohhhhhh, you poor thing, come here! I’ll take care of you.”

Doesn’t care that the entirety of the hotel residents are crowded around watching you two- Pentious holds you like a baby in his arms and carefully sinks to the ground with you, holding you so tight it actually kinda hurts due to all your bruises.

Cries for a while like this- goes back and forth between examining your bruises and cuts and bloody nose with his watery eyes to then burying his face in your neck as he weeps for you.

“Pen, I’m okay. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I CAN’T HANDLE IT!!! You’re too pretty to be beaten up like thisssss. Aawwwww.” And he’s crying even harder now.

And this goes on for a while until you finally decide to get up and go to your room with him to get cleaned up.

Babies the absolute fuck out of you- brings you food in bed and tries to feed it to you, gets you in the bath and refuses to let you touch anything while insisting he do all the work for you, carries you everywhere.

It’s actually so nice tho- he washes your hair for you real slow and firm as he scrubs your scalp, very carefully washes the dirt and dry blood from your skin only to reveal more bruises he hadn’t seen before, carefully applies ointment to your bloody cuts and scrapes

Listen…this man is not gonna stop crying until you are 100% healed up. Even the next morning, you wake up beside him to see his face wet with tears as he sniffles.

At least you know he really truly deeply cares for you and loves you 💚

“Oh, it’s okay, babe. I’m felling so much better today, especially since I get to start my morning in bed with you.”

And now he decides he’s gonna keep you in bed all day and continue to baby and pamper you

Keeps his tail and most of his body wrapped around you loosely all day as you watch movies and relax. Cant stop staring at your face and focusing on each blue and black bruise you wear, eyeing every cut and scrape and the split skin on your lip.

You took a beating and he thinks it’s only fair that you and him stay in bed until you’re truly feeling well enough to resume your normal daily tasks.

Of course, he has to stay with you in case you need something! Can’t leave his injured partner alone, wouldn’t dream of it!

Vox 🖥️

(I know he’s not at the hotel, pretend you just walked into V Tower instead, k?)

REVENGE REVENGE REVENGE

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?! Who? Where? When? HOW FUCKING HOW DARE THEY-“

You’ll have to cut him off or he’ll go on an entire raging tangent about revenge and eventually short circuit lol

“Voxy, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get clean and go to bed.”

He slowly cools off and begins to focus more on you and your injuries, asking if you’re okay or if there’s anything he can do. Now behind closed doors, his entire attitude changes.

He’s following you into every room, watching you with an expression of intense sadness and concern, wishing he could take all your pain and give it to himself instead. He’d suffer for you if it meant seeing you happy and healthy

Sits in the bathroom in silence but keeps you company while you wash up. He might ask if you need help but also wants to give you space and make sure you feel safe

Assists you in getting dressed while making it very romantic and being very attentive. Vox will so slowly slip your pajamas onto you while letting his claws ghost over all your bruises.

Will lean in and kiss your busted lips right as your head pops through the top of your shirt, followed by a smile and probably more kisses

Listen, most of these boys are gonna become way more over protective after this incident okay? Vox is most definitely not an exception

Insists that either He’s gonna be with you every where you go from now on or he’s gonna send security with you every where you go from now on.

And no matter who is with you when you’re out in the streets, his cameras will also be watching over you.

Oh yeah, and he goes back in the cam footage and has a perfect view of the whole incident. He watches it over a few times before ordering a hit on every sinner who dared to mess with his lover.

You’ll never have to worry or look over your shoulder or worry again 😘

Alastor 🩸

Doesn’t say much or even stay long to worry about you at first.

He’s more angry and bent on revenge than anything. He’s worried about you too but he knows you’re strong and can take care of yourself.

He slips off to do some exploring and investigating to find out who did this to you

Spends maybe an hour figuring it out and then promptly goes on a murder spree to take care of all those pesky sinners who dared to lay a finger on his beloved

Okay, now that that’s out of his system, he can come back and take care of you.

Isn’t as cuddly and romantic as the others but he still babies you and refuses to let you do anything for yourself.

“Now now, darling. Just relax. I’ll have you cleaned up and feeling better in no time.”

Bathes you, dresses you, tucks you into bed all while humming slow tunes to you

Doesn’t cuddle you but sits on the bed beside you and gives your head some gentle pets

“You won’t have to worry any longer, my dove. I took care of those degenerates and I’ll never let you wander the streets of hell alone ever again.”

Will place a gentle kiss on your throbbing head before leaving you to rest.

He’s serious tho, anywhere you go he goes too. You’re never leaving his sight again ❤️‍🩹

[suzukiblu]

Do you read much fic yourself? and if u do, do u have any recs?

I kinda read fic in fits and starts, to be honest? Like it ebbs and it flows, pretty much, hah. So sometimes I read a TON of it and sometimes I pretty much don't read any at all. So like, currently not really, but previously enough that I def DO have recs, haha.

Not an exhaustive list of my faves, just some random Good Ones I can think of off the top of my head ( all some variant of DC or DPxDC ).

( also def read the tags on these, there's def some tags on a few of them that at least some people would wanna know about before reading. )

Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire ( YJA!Conner gets Super-adopted, interdimensionally-speaking. Fully the inspo for that "the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" WIP of mine, for the record. )

I Want It That Way by WynterSky ( Tim/Kon but make it 90's and also an emotional rollercoaster. )

Stress Relief by daemoninwhite [ nsfw ] ( Kon goes to a sex club in space for some free-use/stuck-in-wall-style stress relief and gets exactly what he wants. )

Jasmine Luthor by Die_Erlkonigin6083 ( Jazz finds out her biodad is Lex Luthor and literally does not care until she finds out CONNER Luthor exists. )

The Unnecessarily Dramatic Death of One Jasmine Fenton by Rowan_the_Escapist ( Jazz and Jason meet at a party and it all goes to shit pretty quick. fyi I will chew on this worldbuilding and also this version of Jazz/Jason until I ALSO die. )

Lazy Sunday by Faeriekit [ nsfw ] ( . . . I did not think I'd be so into Jason/Tucker but uhhhhh turns out I'm real into Jason/Tucker and especially into Jason getting consensually hypnotized into a househusband while absolutely desperate for his boyfriend Dom to fuck him, go fig!! )

The French Mistake by Vamillepudding ( The wrong Bruce is in this reality but he's a much better dad than the right one, so is that really a problem?? )

Buy One, Get One by iselsis ( Incubus!Jason gets rescued/surprise-adopted by Batman and then tries to figure out if it's safe to ask Bruce to save his succubus!mom from his shitty dad. )

Catherine/Bruce Medieval AU by iselsis and PotatoLady ( I am not emotionally well about this whole entire concept, hahaha. Omegaverse medieval AU where Bruce beats Willis in a fight and therefore wins whatever belongs to him. Which in this scenario includes Catherine and Jason. )

bystander by greeneyedfirework ( Batfam omegaverse where alpha!Jason finds a messed-up Robin!Dick in heat and it is a Problem(tm). One of the specific genre of omegaverse-Robins-in-distress that was inspo for the "Robin gets nested" WIP. )

Eyes Like Kryptonite by dragonez ( Lena Luthor gets a strange Kryptonian on her balcony who doesn't know if he's from an alternate reality or time-travelling and wants specifically HER help. Kara/Lena. )

your ghost i will gladly bear by merils ( Interdimensional Timkon featuring two Robins on a rooftop while they're both dead. THIS CONCEPT, I LOVE IT. )

This isn't how things are supposed to go. But we've always been unorthodox. by RenkonNairu ( Please and thank you for this slightly niche and highly interesting omegaverse take including omega!Kon, bless. Also Tim/Kon and Bruce/Clark, accidental and deliberate and deliberately-AVOIDED bonding, and the shitty version of Lex/Clark. )

Fairy Godbrother by envysparkler ( Batbrothers accidentally-on-purpose decide to meddle in another reality's version of themselves in quick succession, or over the course of several years, depending on how you timestream it. )

. . . . . . like, just go check out thebodydies and Briarwitched, I cannot effectively narrow down the options there, haha, just gooooo.

[borathae]

“They’ve seen the centuries come and go, watched empires rise and fall and witnessed the creation of society as it is today. And now you have fallen into their arms, showing them once again that change never stops.”

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Hurt and Comfort, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU, Polyamory!AU

“You change universities after moving towns. Your new university is an old, ancient building with secret tunnels and whispered ghost stories. There are two fraternities, which for some reason always seem to be in a quarrel. Alpha consisting of Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin and Min Yoongi. Handsome, porcelain skinned men, who act as if they are out of another century and for some reason everyone on campus seems to be scared of. And Sanguis consisting of Jeon Jungkook, Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok. Men with skin just as pale and their faces just as beautiful, who always wear sunglasses when it is light outside and who never seem to open their curtains. And for some peculiar reason you always find yourself in the middle of them….”

Pairing: OT7 x f.Reader with main Taehyung x f.Reader & Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Mystery, Fantasy, Romance, Smut, University!AU, Vampire!AU

《 To Book One 》

“When your endless game of hide and seek with Namjoon sends your little group all over Europe, you have to fight more than just vengeful witches and bloodthirsty demons. Different morals, beliefs and mindsets bring just as much struggle to your bond as your enemies. And soon you have to accept that the world you decided to live in is darker than you initially prepared for.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader & Jungkook x f.Reader + more as the story progresses

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU

《 To Book Two 》

“You and your lovers visit The Plains, a magical realm created for the souls of witches and warlocks and home of your dear grandmother. She welcomes you with raspberry pie and tea. You come with many stories to tell and eager hands to help on her cottage. Golden sunlight, blue moonshine and green forests await you alongside early morning snuggles and late night kisses with your lovers.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Jungkook x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook, Taehyung x Jungkook, platonic Yoongi x Taehyung

Genre: Magic!AU, Vampire!AU, Polyamory!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff, Romance, Smut, this is a spin-off meant to be read after the Duology

《 To the Spin-Off 》

#01 - What You Deserve [YG x JK]

#02 - The Piano Teacher [YG x OC]

#03 - Only For You ([YG x OC]

#04 - Mellifluous [TH x OC]

#05 - Safe Hands [YG x OC]

#06 - Rache [TH x JK]

#07 - Captured [YG x OC]

#08 - Illecebra [TH x OC] ​

#09 - How I Love You [YG x OC]

#10 - Stormy Nights [YG x OC]

#11 - Of Simpler Times [TH x JM]

#12 - Best Seat [YG x OC]

#13 - Deep [JK]

#14 - Painted Blue [TH x OC]

#15 - Drunk on You [YG x OC]

#16 - I Want Your Love Forever [YG x OC]

#17 - Between Friends [YG x HS]

#18 - Bed Head [JK x OC]

#19 - Don’t Tease Please [JK x OC]

#20 - Fade into You [YG x OC]

#21 - Rope Bunny [YG x OC]

#22 - Lavender Warmth [YG x OC]

#23 - The Scholar, The Princess and the Master [YG x OC x JK]

#24 - Picnics [YG x OC x JK]

#25 - Where Love Is [YG x OC]

#26 - Wake Up Call [YG x OC]

#27 - Devotion [TH x OC]

#28 - Bewitched [YG x OC]

#29 - wanna see myself inside you [JK x OC]

#30 - Princess Treatment [YG x OC]

#31 - Guilty Tears [TH x OC]

#32 - Moonlight & Campsites [YG x OC]

#33 - ILY [YG x OC]

#34 - Morning Hours [JK x OC]

#35 - Silly Fights [YG x OC]

#36 - Carefree [YG & TH]

#37 - Cozy Times [YG x OC]

#38 - Drive You Fucking Crazy [TH x OC]

#39 - FWB [HS x OC]

#40 - A Good Life [YG x OC]

#41 - Impatient [JK x TH]

#42 - Love Wins All [TH x OC]

#43 - Cozy [YG x OC]

#44 - Listen In [HS x JK x TH]

#45 - moonlight [TH x OC]

#46 - Stardust [ TH x JK]

#47 - Protective [TH x JK]

#48 - Babybun [YG x OC x JK]

#49 - Just Relax [YG x HS]

#50 - Tenderness [JM & OC]

#51 - Creamer [YG x TH]

#52 - Shut You Up [JK x OC]

#53 - Double is Best [YG x OC x HS]

#54 - Fuck Yourself [JK x OC] 

#55 - Used [TH x OC]

#56 - Grateful [YG x OC x JK]

#57 - Good Doll [TH x JK]

#58 - Prove It [YG x OC]

#59 - Cozy Nights [YG x OC x JK]

#60 - Rainy Mornings [YG x OC]

#61 - Birthday Boy [HS x OC]

#62 - Red Shirt [JK x OC]

#63 - It’s gonna be okay [YG x OC]

[domesticatedstew]

I finished the fic from the wonderful ideas of @hostuuagain and @brainzezz !!! Basically it's Mel and Breadhead bonding while sharing myths and stories that they heard from Ken and Mud!

It was finally a day off, a scarcity when working at the Whale Belly Butcher shop. Even though a break from time to time was pleasant, Mel absolutely hated being bored. And having time off equals BOREDOM.

Ken and Mud were off doing a "restock" for the resturant which was just code for kidnapping random fly people, picking up actual supplies for the resturant, and taking care of a few... pests along the way. Jack was home with his mother for his day off, which bummed out Mel a bit but she couldn't blame him for wanting time away from his work family.

At least Breadhead was still here. He had opted out of going with the other smiling dead crew to instead practice his piano playing. Mel had always liked listening to Breadhead's playing, he was pretty skilled for having no training other than the basics that Ken showed him. It reminded Mel of when she was still little, watching her older brother play the piano while her dad held her closely. Simpler times.

But reminiscing on the past wasn't gonna cure her boredom.

"Sooooo..." Mel slid over beside her large bread brother, watching him gracefully play despite how much larger his fingers were compared to the keys. "I'm bored aaand you're the only one here, you wanna mess some shit up?"

She was ready to keep her mischievous streak strong and steady, any risk was worth killing her boredom. Breadhead turned his massive loaf to look at her, pausing his playing to think. "Nah, I dont really wanna go anywhere today. 'm not in the mood." He said before returning to the song without skipping a beat.

Mel scoffed "Well then what do you want to do? Cuz either we do something together or I do something alone." Breadhead didn't like the idea of his sister causing mayhem by herself. Yeah she could hold her own but despite all the years they've grown together, he still hadn't seen her die or revive. Part of him was terrified that maybe something was wrong with her and she wasn't immortal like everyone else.

He wasnt about to find out now. "Hmmm... What if we told ghost stories and urban legends like when we were little?" Now Mel looked intrigued, which calmed his nerves thankfully. "Ghost stories? Alright bread boy, but you better still not get scared of them like you did when we were little," She teased, giving him an affectionate punch to his arm.

Breadhead wasn't about to admit that the stories of an angel storm devouring anything and everything in their path still gave him the chills.

They were now sat across from each other, Breadhead sitting in two chairs so he'd be comfortable. It still amazed Mel how her brother was such a massive dude, that didn't stop her from teasing him to the ends of the earth. It was even better when they were both teasing Mud or Ken.

"Alright!! Lemme try to remember a story," Mel thought long and hard for done spooky story her dad had told her when she was little.

"I GOT IT!!! Do you remember the story dad told us about the rotling that's been here since the beginning of the gaslight district?" Breadhead shook his head no, and Mel felt a little bit disappointed in him that he didn't remember such an awesome part of rotling history. "Ok well you don't need to remember cuz I'm gonna tell you anyway.

Long ago, before the world became just one island, there was a rotling who told stories of the world before rotlings. A world full of greenery and animals, one where humans ruled the world." Mel whispered when she mentioned humans, feeling slightly hurt when her brother recoiled at the mere mention of a human. She couldn't blame him though, humans are their own urban legend that Mel didn't want to bring up too much.

"They say he would talk about how the skies used to be blue, and there was this green stuff that'd grow from the ground called grass, and that the sun would light up the whole planet without needing any gas lamps. It was a world full of life, and according to the guy if you died that'd be it. No coming back."

"Do you know what they did to him Mel?" Breadhead looked genuinely curious, not his usual 'I've got some joke planned and you don't know' look.

"Supposedly, he was the first ever rotling to be cemeted," She mischievously whispered, leaning in to add a dramatic effect. It seemed to do the trick since Breadhead leaned in too like they were worried about being listened in on, "Woahhh, and you said dad told you that?"

"Yup," She popped the P, "He only told me the cementing part when I was a bit older though. SO, you got any stories you wanna tell?"

Breadhead didn't think nearly as long or hard about the story he wanted to tell, "What about the Gas Man? You've gotta remember Mud telling us that one before bed," He let out a deep chuckle. "How could I forget it? It was Mud's favorite thing to tell us to get us to go to bed," Mel remembered all the times Mud threatened them with the idea of the Gas Man and let out a laugh at the memory.

"I think it went somethin like like this," Breadhead straighted up and got into his story telling position, knees up to his chest with his arms out like he was trying to read a crystal ball to get your fortune. "You ever wonder how so many of our lamps stay lit? You can thank the Gas Man, he goes around the island lighting any lamp he sees out. Some people say they've seen 'im, but they're fibbin'. Cuz if you've ever met the Gas Man, you don't come back. Mud said if the Gas Man catches you, he turns your fluids into oil and uses your flesh to light the lamps. He takes anyone that's out too late, no one's safe from the Gas Man."

Mel cringed at the idea of being turned into fuel for the lamps of the district. Even when she was little she never liked thinking about it for too long, she guessed that childhood fears aren't really stuck in childhood.

Breadhead caught on immediately and started giggling at his little sister's discomfort. Mel shot a glare at the loaf and that shut him up.

"Ok ok ok, you wanna hear about how cementing started?" Breadhead nodded vigorously, unsurprising to Mel considering how much joy he takes from crushing and eating rotlings and fly people.

"So, it all obviously started with that one guy who wouldn't shut up about... you know whats. And the others were pretty sick of his ramblings of the world before ours, and since they couldn't kill him they thought 'why don't we just try to lock him up?' It worked but only for a few centuries when people forgot about him and he escaped, he started talking about more weird and gross creatures once he was free. Everyone was sick and tired of the guy. So one brave rotling decided to try and drown him, they gathered as much rocks and bricks as they could, tied it to the insane guy, and threw him off the island into the depths." Mel acted out the motions of throwing someone off into the ocean, something she had hoped she could actually do one of these days (if Ken would let her.)

"It worked even better than just locking him up, and people forgot about him for even longer. It was nice without some insane man's ramblings on the island. But like usual, he came back. He was one crafty son of a bitch and made it everyone's problem. This time though, he was talking about their buildings, specifically this material that could withstand the test of time. He even insisted that there was still some of it underwater from eons ago.

So with one last ditch effort, that same brave rotling as before dove under the island and collected as much ancient rubble as he could (all while only drowning a couple of times.)" She whispered that last part to Breadhead, who seemed rather impressed by the notion.

"He listened to the mad man's rants, figuring out the best way to turn this trash into something that'd finally rid everyone from this annoyance. From those ramblings and rants, the rotling learned how to make cement. And it was perfect. The first ever cement block wasn't the best looking, but when that insane guy went plummeting into the cold depths below, he never came back up. Other people realized how useful this could be and started making their own cement! And then it became the best way to get rid of any annoying preacher or local mad man. Or in our case anyone with too much money," Mel chuckled at her own joke, thankfully Breadhead thought it was funny too.

"Wow Mel, and dad told you all this? He's never told me stories like that," The loaf seemed sad at that fact, and Mel realized that Ken never really did tell stories to Breadhead like he did with his daughter. "Well it's ok Breadhead! Dad takes you on missions and to go out and do hits, he doesn't do that with me!" While she hoped that'd change soon, she didn't want to ruin the moment for her brother.

"Thank you Mel," Breadhead said while giving her the biggest smile ever. "You wanna steal some of Mud's stash and get wasted?"

Mel's smile grew as wide as her brothers, "You read my mind bread boy!"