#I mean you know how far I can go so it's pretty mild ;D

[sleeping-diary-the-fic]

Sleeping diary (a pink aftermare story)

Chapter 10: A flantastic plan all around.

First Previous

Berlingot woke up with an idea he couldn’t ignore.

He tried but it kept rolling around in his mind, making other thoughts muddy and sticky.

He had to try again!

The guardian was well aware how disastrous the last attempt had been… and the fact villagers wanted nothing to do with him usually…but.

He chatted with Orchid for a while, the other said “he had visit today” but stayed pretty cagey about what exactly happened. While the endeavor felt mildly frustrating, it was great the guy finally had some company he guessed.

It must have tire him however as he seemed even less verbose than usual, he should leave him time to rest for now.

Meaning it was the perfect day to make a new attempt!

His plan was all figured out and Marianne was bound to leave very soon. It will work this time!

Speaking of the devil…

“Ber’, you saw my other boot? I cannot find it…”

Berlingot rolled his eye lights and merely pointed up, where the long fur-lined shoe dangled from a branch.

His brother simply hummed, seemingly unsurprised by the predicament, before jumping to catch it and finished tidying up his outfit with swift and elegant movements.

If only the villagers knew how much mess there was behind his brother’s delicate appearance…

A few wrappers tumbled down from a pocket only half closed.

And how much candy.

The guardian sighed as the other started to walk away, before running right back to bonk him on the head.

“See you later, Berly!”

And then only, Marianne dashed out of view, humming and sing-singing on his way.

Hm, “Berly” and “Ber’”. A smile stretched on his face.

He heard worse nicknames than those.

The wind played with his pants ribbons for a few minutes more before Berlingot decided it was plan time.

And thus, he grabbed the supply bags and made lists of what to prepare for later. He won’t start to decorate before securing guests this time! Not that he wasn’t confident in the positive result of this plan!

…

Couldn’t hurt to have a fail-safe.

The deed was fast, he only had to modify some of his old lists to accommodate what he currently had access to. He, however, redesigned the invitations fully. They still bore his old name and he had better ideas now as well! 

Cutting, taping, sticking, doodling, writing and all of that, with an upbeat tune of nonsense swimming between his thoughts. 

How long since last time he played with his stationery tools? The result was rarely extraordinary but he always found enjoyment in this imperfect creation process. 

Once that was out of the way, he rummaged once more in the big bag to find a small satchel to put the papers in. It was a very simple one, black with a white clasp. They never got around to decorate it more but it would do the job.

It was now time to go.

He carefully placed his shawl in the bag, guessing it would be impractical to keep while trudging around the town, and glanced at the tree once last time.

He won’t be gone for long.

In a last minute decision, he slipped his diary in the satchel and started walking toward his objective with dynamic strides.

The hill was not that big but he took his sweet time to walk down, dodging wild flowers and stopping at any unidentified noise. He clutched his bag against his chest once he reached the line of trees separating the hills from the outskirts of the village.

Thing he has not done since what seemed like forever.

The sun is high with only a few clouds to hide it briefly once in a while and it shined on the windows of the first houses. Those are usually empty, not many wishing to live that close to them, but they were used a few times for events or to keep…wounded people in the same place.

A flutter of fabric around a neck and a muffled cry of pain scratched the back of his mind.

Ignore it, it was an accident.

Berlingot carefully advanced between the walls turned greenish by plants climbing on it.

Hands prying, pulling on something he couldn’t let go of, wouldn’t.

Ignore it! He said it was fine.

Unbeknownst to him, he stopped at an old broken window, the glass still sharp despite the years passing.

Laughter turning to silence and a silent inquiry.

Ignore it, he didn’t want to…

The guardian ran his finger against the glass edges and peeked inside. An empty room, full of dust. He mentally traced the old furniture there was before. Not many but enough to feel cozy, a few seats, a makeshift table and some candles. Snacks and cards in a corner for longer nights.

The next moment he was inside without really remembering moving.

The dust lifted in small clouds with each of his steps and the creaks coming along seemed as loud as thunder. 

His eyes fall on another dusty shard of glass. It felt dustier than the rest, with small stains of pale yellow glistening under a lone ray of sunshine.

A feeling builded up inside him, pushing sludge in his limbs and gravity slowly increased, trying to swallow him whole.

Cries of anger, clumsy steps in the grass, the painful darkness of the ground.

Nightmare ran out of the house, fingers dirty and thoughts tangled.

The sun is red for the night to come…

The sun was still up and bright, sky blue splotched by white clouds.

Nightmare takes a big inspiration, legs shaky of the run to come.

Berlingot exhaled, focusing on the feeling of his magic rushing out to swirl anew. 

His hand took a hold of the wooden sash of the window and he squeezed it hard for a moment.

The guardian walked away towards the center of the village, silent. His pace, regular and stiff, kept him going forward until he reached the inhabited part, leaving behind the memory to rot behind.

This was not on today's schedule!

And thus, it was left behind…

The square was busy and brimming with life, children chasing after a dog, pie-sellers selling pies, the never-happy complaining and happy-go-lucky laughing back at them… 

Nervous but determined, he approached a group of adults he deemed young enough, hands clutching on the invitations. 

Gathering his courage, he announced his arrival by whistling a short note.

“Hey, hello, how are we doing on this fine day?”

The group of 5 turned their attention towards him, staring.

“If you’re interested, I’m trying to host a small event back at the tree tonight,” Berlingot continued, trying very hard to ignore the awkward silence.

One of them, a lean man with long tangled hair, took the paper he was holding out and briefly scanned it.

Hope went up in his chest, raw and hot. Maybe, it really was the day! 

The group gathered around the thing, pointing and smiling, and Berlingot only realized what was happening exactly when the first harsh laugh tumbled out of the pack of hyenas. 

“What are you, 5?” exclaimed a small mouse, fur covered in dirt and blue eyes piercing.

“Who the fuck even is Berlingot?” added a woman as wide as she was tall, meaning not very.

Before Berlingot got around to explaining this particular tid-bit (how did he forget most were still unaware of that?), the comments continued to flood in.

“If you think anyone would come to ya thin’ when a nightmare is the organizer, who’d wan’ to sleep next ta that?” threw a green hog, a malicious smile distorted his face into a cruel thing.

He barely registered the tears trailing down his cheeks before they were wetting his collar.

The last person of the group walked towards him, making him take a step back by reflex. They towered above him, keeping him in place by a steel gaze.

“Scram.”

And scramming he did, running until the laughter couldn’t reach him anymore, until he found a place privy of people who could jest about what felt important to him.

Then he slumped down in a lone alley, behind a bakery, with a trashcan and a damaged flower pot as neighbors.

Calming down didn’t take that long but a deep fatigue now clogged to his bones like a heavy blanket.

Another failure.

While he could have given it another try, the energy and will lost him… and his invitations scattered in his flee.

So he leaned back against the brick wall, sighing, and he did the only thing he could think of right now that could brighten his mood.

He got out his diary and his usual pen and started writing.

End of chapter 10! Go to chapter 11?

Dreamtale belongs to @/jokublog Berlingot and Orchid belong to me Marianne belongs to @yuriyuruandyuraart <3

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

[briarberrythornedhart]

Courage is a Prerequisite

CW: Eddie being kinda a jerk to reader at first, Aged up Characters, reference to nude pictures, mostly fluff, no smut

Eddie Munson/You

Word count: 1615

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

You found that cursed flyer in the Roane County Community College Library, tacked to the bulletin board.

You joined the group with some hesitation, but they were mostly cool.

Mostly dudes, quite a few graduates from Hawkin’s High, and a few current high school seniors. Including, your favorite - Dustin Henderson - the adorable little brother you always wished for.

Dustin was funny and welcoming and had a way of knowing (like magic) how to shut down arguments among the party. He was the social director for the group. Always throwing parties for everyone’s birthdays and organizing secret gift exchanges and creating sign up sheets for potlucks. He had a gift for getting people to be involved and do things.

Dustin could even influence the group’s Dungeon Master.

Eddie was 25 years old, a mechanic by day, a gifted lead guitarist every other Friday, an artist, whip-smart, and devastatingly hot but SOOOOO Annoying!!

Somehow Dustin had figured out how to make Eddie Munson (who absolutely still complained everytime) to come to these other events and on time and with his assigned snacks.

Eddie was respectful as a Dungeon Master but out of game, sometimes, he was just mean to you for no goddam reason. Sometimes he would be all teasy-flirty with you and then make fun of you if you flirted back.

The third session you attended maybe dressed up a bit (just to look cute) maybe a little to get his attention. Eddie looked you over and called you a ‘dirty slut’. He was ‘joking’ or whatever... when you got angry he said he meant the outfit looked hot (not you though - specifically your outfit) and he was “sorry for joking around” but ever since you had been holding this grudge...

Anyway - Dickish DM aside - the group was great.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

About two months into the current Campaign (and 2 dead characters - murdered by the dick DM in collusion with your bad die rolls), at the end of a long but admittedly exciting game night, everyone was packing up to go.

Jeff and Eddie were in a heated argument about who would win in a fight between Captain Kirk and Han Solo.

But you stopped listening to that silliness because Dustin approached you, “Can I ask for some advice?”

Aww - he came to you for advice. It warmed your heart that he wanted to open up to you about his worries. He was such a cutie-goober. Equal parts of both.

“Suzie’s mad at me,” he sighed.

“What’d you do?” You asked. Because little-dude was a Goober. And Suzie was pretty easy-going from what you could tell.

Dustin looked uncomfortable, and he near-whispered, “We were sending dot matrix converted pictures of each other - our school pictures - through web email and I asked if she would show me something... lower.”

“Dustin.” The rebuke in your voice was mild. As was the offense in your opinion. They’d been together (long distance) for years, you’d have asked for naughty pictures too in that situation.

You still clicked your tongue at him, though.

“I know, I know,” he took off his ball cap and ran his hands through his long curly hair, “... but I can’t help wondering... you know upstairs-outsidies is as far as we got at Camp Know Where and I said I want her to be my girl and she said ‘forever’ and so...”

“The ‘net is a wild place right now, man, that’s a crazy trust exercise for you to ask for! What if someone hacks in and takes the pictures?!” You shook your head at the audacity.

“Or my mom could find them printed out. I know, I know and I apologized and told her I'd keep my hormones in check - but I don’t think she’s forgiven me and she’s just so pretty and I love her - and I don’t want her to be mad at me anymore for being a stereotypical gross hornball dude.”

“I don’t think she’s mad at you for wanting to see her naked. I know she’s in that very religious *cough Cult* household but like Guys don’t have a monopoly on hormones and desire and shit.” You tapped your pencil with the troll eraser topper against your cheek pondering this... “Personally, I’d feel more comfortable mailing polaroids of my body than sending them in electronic mail. It feels safer...”

A familiar voice danced into your ears. “Oh, would you?? Is there a mailing list I should sign up for?” Of course DM Eddie was eavesdropping and interrupting players, his favorite pastimes.

“This is an A and B conversation, Munson, you can C your way out of it.” You snarked.

“I don’t think so, Sweetheart. Ya’ see - Dustin is asking for advice from You,” he narrowed his eyes and leaned in - it would be menacing if he wasn’t equal parts goofy and pretty - those freckles across his pretty face..., “ You - our newest member, and I’ve known Dustin longer - I’m gonna have a better understanding of his whole situation.” He cocked his head forward and his hair flew around - it was so stupid pretty.. .Annoying. It was so Annoying. “I’ve got seniority here, dollface.” he looked back and forth between you. “So what’s the situation?”

Dustin cleared his throat to start explaining but you forced a laugh and put up a finger in the air, “I wouldn’t ask Munson to advise me out of a wet paper bag.”

Eddie made a noise between a scoff and a hurt gasp but his eyes sparkled. “I would never give Dustin bad advice.” he looked at Dustin, “Didn’t I help you THIS session, to avoid pissing off that Djinni prince??”

“Of course you know the answers In Game when you are a Big Bad Serious DM.” You put your hands on your hips. “This is real life. Dustin doesn’t want to mess things up with Suzie.”

“Wait? Is Suzie a real person?” Eddie smirked. This was a common bit- the whole group (with yourself, Will, and Mike as the notable exceptions) teased Dustin about his long distance girlfriend not being real. Of course they hadn’t been in chat rooms with her like you had. She had a LOT of personality and no AI was that sophisticated...

yet.

Dustin didn’t even dignify the jab with a response. He just looked at you with pain in his eyes. “So, how do I make her forgive me?”

“You don’t.” You said. And both guys looked like you slapped their individual faces (!). “I mean, you can’t MAKE someone forgive you, Dustin! You need to be brave. You can only work to figure out what really happened, then apologize - a real apology that shows understanding of her feelings and concerns - and promise to do better. And I think she doesn’t want to hear you say you are ‘sorry for wanting to see her naked’ because that’s probably not what pissed her off and ... it’s not true, is it?”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah. Okay, okay, I can do that.” Clearly listening and processing this, “Hey - can I get a ride home?”

“I’d love to, Buddy, but my car is broken again.” You shrugged. “I biked.”

“What’d you do to her now??” Eddie groused.

“Nothing!! she’s just old.” You snapped.

“You need to do regular maintenance, I’ve told you this before - fer cryin’ out loud! Is the engine smoking again?” Eddie griped.

“Yes - Eddie! You Know I can’t afford regular oil changes. Not at the rate you recommend.”

Dustin cleared his throat. “Eddie, can you drive us both home?” He smiled with his little brother energy and Eddie replied,

“Of course, dude, grab your stuff.” And to you. “You coming?” All weird and stilted like he didn’t want to give you a ride and You’d Honestly Rather not impose and subject yourself to more of his BS, but It was Raining.

Eddie helped you heft your bike into the back of his van. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you though.

Dustin kept you both on safe-non-argument-inducing topics on the ride to his place. But then you were alone with Eddie. So it was inevitable that he would start some shit with you.

He licked his upper lip and turned towards you in the back. “Can you come up here, please, I’ll feel less like your chauffeur.”

“You’d make a terrible chauffeur.” You said conversationally as you got into the front and sank into the plush seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie looked like he was gonna start a fight with you again but then sighed, drooped, his hair falling in his face. “I’m... sorry.”

Did he just say that?? Really??

“I’m sorry I said you looked like a dirty slut.” His words were suddenly coming at you like a verbal deluge. Drowning you in sincerity?? He was capable of Sincerity?? “I’m sorry... that I said ... that I was joking. What I should have said is... I always think you look hot and it’s distracting sometimes when I’m trying to be a big bad serious DM, and you are in these tight jeans and shit and I don’t want... to fight with you anymore. I want us to be close. Like you and Dustin apparently are. Friends. If you can be friends with a guy who finds you attractive. Please. I’ll... I’ll do better.”

He turned toward you and his eyes were so big and pretty. His sexy lips were saying impossible things. Maybe you hit your head earlier and are currently passed out or this is a dream or...

“I promise. I can be a good friend. I can.” He sounded a tad unsure.

“Eddie, I can't just be friends with you. I’m into you. I’m totally bonkers crazy about you.”

“Oh.” For a moment he looked confused. Still sad. Contemplative.

And then the trademark smirk came back. “So, that means you want to be more than friends with me?”

[icantrememberwhoiwaslastdecember]

i'm a horrible writer but-

keefitz fanfic :)

i kind of hate it tbh but here it is :D (only chapter one, that's as far as i've gotten so far)

under the cuttt

TW: minor swearing <3

Fitz stared at the ceiling of his room, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position. He heard footsteps outside of his door and groaned. 

"Biana, I swear to the stars, if you're trying to steal more of my skin care products, I will put a lock on my door." He sat up, surprised to see it was not his beauty-product stealing sister, but instead a grinning Keefe. 

"You know, maybe I'll steal some of those skincare products, Fitzy..."

Fitz rolled his eyes at his best friend's comment, sitting up in his bed. "Hello you too, Keefe. Why are you here? I thought tou and Sophie were doing something..?" He asked, leaning back as he waved Keefe over.

"Oh, you know, just dropping in to make sure my bestie hasn't died on me." Keefe shrugged, falling back onto Fitz's bed. "You sounded pretty sick the other day, y'know."

Fitz remembered talking to Keefe the other day- the conversation... hadn't ended so pleasantly.

"So... Fitzy boy, what've you been up to that made you look like hell?"

"What!? I don't look like hell!"

"Deny it all you want- you've got  huge bags under your eyes and your voice sounds off. You pulled another all-nighter, didn't you?"

"Well, uh... not exactly..."

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"...two allnighters. I only slept for an hour the other day as well..."

"EXCUSE ME!? Fitzy, you HAVE to take better care of yourself! That's stupid- three days, only an hour of sleep."

"I know it's stupid, it's just...I haven't been able to sleep, okay? Can you just drop it?"

"No, no, no, I am NOT dropping this, Fitzy. You couldn't sleep, or wouldn't? Were you up all night thinking about a certain blonde somebody..?"

"What? No! That's- no- no!"

"Not convincing me there, Golden Boy."

"Oh, by all the stars, just drop it, Keefe!"

"You need to get more sleep!"

"You need to stop poking into my business!"

"It's my business if you're harming yourself by not getting enough sleep."

"Keefe- drop it!"

"No, Fitzy, you need more sleep, I'm not going to just drop it. You're going to burn yourself out."

"Shut up! SHUT. UP. I don't need you going on and on about how horrible my sleep schedule is, can you just let me handle things by myself for once!?"

"Fitzy-"

"No. Just...just go, Keefe. Please."

"Okay."

Fitz had been trying to put the memories of the conversation behind, but of course- being his stressed, emotional self- he couldn't. He groaned as he leaned back into his bed, glancing at Keefe. 

"I've gotten sleep since the other day, if that's what you're asking. Only four hours the other night, but last night I got six." Fitz finally said, although Keefe just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, wow, such an amazing sleep schedule!"

"Shut up." Fitz's voice was laced with mild amusement, however. He didn't have the energy to be irritated. "What did you really come here for, Keefe? I doubt you'd abandon your project with Sophie for nothing."

"You really underestimate me, Fitzy...it's disappointing, really!"

"Keefe!"

"Alright, alright." Keefe chuckled. "I came to give you something. Grizel was on edge today, though. She stole what I have for you and looked over it for a full five minutes before letting me in, y'know. I was scared she and Sandor had swapped places." He took an object out of his pocket, offering it to Fitz.

Fitz took a good look at the object, realising what it was. "I asked you if you could look for this...years ago..!" He gasped. It was a small glass locket, with a picture of him and Keefe with their arms around each other's shoulders inside. "I lost it when I was with you over two years ago...how the fuck did you find it!?" 

Keefe chuckled at Fitz's reactions. "There, there, language, Fitzy! I found this just the other day, remember when you made me promise if I found the locket, I'd bring it back to you? Wasn't gonna break that promise, was I?" He grinned. 

Fitz took the locket from Keefe, astonished. He couldn't believe Keefe had been able to find this, after the locket had been lost for two whole years. "I- this is- wow..."

He didn't know why he was reacting so strongly to this, it was just that... Fitz could remember clearly the day Keefe had given him this locket.

"Hey, Fitzy. It's been a whole year, y'know. A whole year since I found you sitting in the cafeteria all alone, trying to work on an assignment."

"I found YOU, remember? I don't know how you weren't caught holding a GULON of all things."

"Well, you know what happened after."

"Oh, I know all right. But what were you saying before?"

"Technically, it's our friendiversary. I think."

"Wait, it is?"

"So I got you a present!"

"It's...a locket. It's beautiful, Keefe!"

"Are you talking about me or the locket, Fitzy?"

"Can this be used to choke somebody?"

"You would never!"

"I have a feeling I just might."

"Aww, I thought I was your bestie, Fitzy! Anyways, where's YOUR gift?"

"Gift? I- uh-'

"Don't worry, Fitzy, I was-"

"Here! Flowers. I know you like daisies, here's a bunch of them!"

"...you just got those from the ground."

"No witnesses."

"Except me."

"You can't be your own witness! HAPPY FRIENDIVERSARY!"

The memory still made Fitz laugh when he thought about it. He and Keefe had been twelve, turning thirteen, then. They had been young and innocent.

"Thank you." Fitz shot Keefe a sincere smile. "I was so upset the day I lost this...my first friendiversary gift..."

Keefe chuckled. "Oh, you getting attached to a locket. Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey, I wasn't attached!" Fitz protested. "It had sentimental value!"

"Oh, yeah, because you were a lonely, sad child back then."

"I wasn't lonely! I had Biana, you know."

"Siblings don't count."

"Oh, come on."

This was how many conversations with Keefe seemed to go- tease, sarcasm, a light joke, an attempt to get Keefe to be serious.... but Fitz couldn't deny that he liked it.

"Sooo...." Keefe had a smirk on his face. This couldn't be good. "Those skincare products...didn't know you used those beauty products..." He grinned. "How often do you use these, dare I ask?"

Fitz groaned again. "You're the worst." He complained. "I- uh... I have a nightly routine.... and a morning routine."

Keefe burst into laughter. "Of course you do. Plus haircare, right? You are the craziest person I've ever met, Fitz Vacker."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, you spend half an hour on your hair each morning! You can't say anything."

Keefe placed a hand over his heart, feigning mock offence. "How dare you accuse me of such felonies, Fitzy!"

"Felonies indeed."

[cluelessatthispoint]

HI ITS PLATONIC YANDERE ANOM HERE AGAIN IM SO SORRY FOR COMING IN YOUR ASKS AGAIN BUT I NEEDED TO GET THE IDEA OUT OF MY SYSTEM BEFORE I COMPLETELY FORGET ABOUT IT IM SORRY!!!!

I keep thinking of a platonic Yandere!RED Pyro with either a BLU Engineer!Reader or BLU Spy!Reader. The idea of Pyro, an absolute menace of a human, a danger to everything and everyone to some degree, a complete pyromaniac and ABSOLUTELY NOT sane in the head caring so deeply for someone who they are supposed to kill just fills my lil heart with joy.

Yes, they did force you to join their tea party with their "friends"(who are a bunch of dead parts of your teammates), they also broke all of your weapons and MAYBE went a little overboard by "begging you to stay just a little longer"(pointing their axe at you while starting directly at your soul) but like- c'mon! You two are besties!! It's normal!!!

They just want to spend their time with you out of battle! And your corpse after a battle or your severed head that Medic was experimenting on simply doesn't hit the same spot as talking to you while you are alive and "well"! Even if that means that they will have to tie you to a chair with a "lovely red and blue ribbon"(literally the tightest and itchy rope ever known to man) and "put a do not disturb sign on the door"(locking and barricading the door so nobody can leave or enter). They just want to spend time with you!! Is it so wrong to have you by their side on work days just for a few hours?? I'm sure your team won't even notice!! Just stay calm and let your good friend Pyro help you relax and forget about the outside world :D

(SORRY THIS IS SO LONG :()

To make this easier I'm going to write the reader as the BLU Spy. I really love the idea! Pyro is such a little crazy guy and I love him, not as much as engie. But it's pretty darn close. :) No worries about the long request, the more detailed the better!!!

warnings: platonic yandere, blood, mild gore and kidnapping.

~~~~~~~~

Being hired as the new BLU Spy for the BLU team was a surreal dream come true. The opportunity to go to new places and to see new things and experience different cultures while getting paid was really a great deal. Being under the tutelage of the former BLU Spy for years now you felt more ready for this job, than at any other job. The sights, the sounds, the comradery! It was perfect. Well, almost perfect.

Having worked for the team for a little over three months you began to notice right away that there was something up with the RED Pyro. That crazy arsonist seemed to target you every time in battle. No matter if you were cloaked or in disguise, he would somehow always know that you were there. It was so humiliating!

The time you disguised yourself as the RED Sniper he seemed to know right away. Remembering how you made it as far as the door to the intel room before he rounded the corner and hacked you to pieces with an axe. It was horrible. The feeling of white-hot pain and warm blood pooling out of you was one of the feelings that you would not have repeated. That damned RED Pyro, well. he has another thing coming to him that's for sure! Today for the match you made a plan. Before the RED Pyro could find you, you would find him!

The thought made you smile. With fifteen minutes till the battle started you set to finalizing every detail. Instead of cloaking and running to the RED Sniper's nest you would track around the RED base and disguise yourself as the RED Spy. Grabbing your tools and your invis watch you made your way over to the respawn room and waited. Before too long you were joined by your fellow teammates. The noisy din echoing off the tiled walls served as a comfortable distraction.

The memories of previous battles only fueled your determination. The disturbing memory of watching the previous battle's clean up flashed briefly across your mind. How from a distance you could see the enemy Pyro go digging around in the pile of corpses looking for something. You don't know why you stayed, why you watched him from afar. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just to simply be nosy. You weren't quite sure. But when the Pyro pulled your severed head from the pile you felt your knees wobble. The way he held your corpse in his arms seemed almost tender-like.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts you readied your disguise. The voice of the Administrator signaling the start of the battle rang out loud across the field. Steeling your nerves, you cloaked yourself and headed out the door. Walking around the field, dodging bullets aimed for your fellow teammates you had only one objective in mind: to kill the RED Pyro.

Walking around the battlefield you noticed one thing that was odd. There were only eight RED's on the field. The Pyro was missing. Feeling a pit of dread well up in your abdomen you continued cautiously onwards. Finally making it inside the RED base you put on your disguise and walked freely through the halls. Every once in a while, the sound of soft footfalls from somewhere behind you made you put up your cloak in defense. Looking this way and that, there were no signs of anybody being nearby as far as you could tell.

"My nerves must be shot." Your soft voice sounded so quiet and yet so loud in the empty base.

Walking around, you couldn't find any signs of the RED arsonist anywhere. And it was really ticking you off.

Rounding a corner, you stopped dead in your tracks. There right in front of you, starring you down; like a mountain lion staring down its prey was the Pyro. Bringing a hand up to your face you adjusted your disguise, softly exhaling as you felt the paper between your gloved fingers.

"Ah, Bonsoir mon ami. I am just in here for a relaxing smoke."

Beads of sweat rolled down your masked face. Something wasn't right. The way he stared at you; something was wrong. Something here was very, very wrong. Trying to quell your rising panic you didn't notice how he took a small step forward. Then another, followed by another. Feeling your breaths increasing, you closed your eyes. Fight, flight or freeze. Three of the things that a spy should overcome if they ever wanted a chance to be successful in their career. Stopping in front of you the Pyro looked down at your disguised face. Being only a few inches shorter than him he still seemed to tower over you.

To Pyro, you looked so cute trying to disguise yourself as his friend. But he would always know who you disguised yourself as. After all you are his bestest friend. The way that you looked for him today seemed to prove that. Placing a heavy hand on your shoulder he pulled you into a hug. To you however, his hand pulled you into a chokehold. Feeling your mask slip off you flailed your arms and legs every way you could think of. Slipping free from his arms you ducked down and ran further into the base.

Feeling a smile rising to his lips he watched as you disappear as you rounded the corner. What a great friend you were; trying to find him first, then initiating a game of hide and seek. Oh boy! what fun! From the amount of time that passed from you searching him out to him choking you the battle was long over. The doors to the outside battle grounds were sealed shut. Finally happy to have his best friend over for a game of hide and seek and a sleep over he chuckled happily to himself. Oh, what a great time the two of you were going to have. Especially since the next scheduled battle would take place in a week. The idea of having a friend over for a whole week put some pep in his step.

You both were going to have a great time. Whether you liked it or not.

~~~~~~

Playing hide and seek with Pyro would be absolutely terrifying and so much fun at the same time!

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter 14

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ] A/N: This chapter's formatting may not read very well on Tumblr. See the AO3 link as an alternate.

Booting… Booting… Boot–

[ WARNING ]

%%% A problem has occurred and the Purah Pad will now shut down to prevent further damage. 

%%% Shutdown process: Initiating…

### STOP: 0x0000008E (0xHE000000LP, 0x0ME00000)

### pp1371hud.sys – Address F87D91-HELP at F87DA0-ME

%%% Beginning memory transfer…

%%%Transfer Complete.

%%% C  ontact your the Pur  ah Pad technical admini5trat0r for furthe  r  #  H##ELP! 

---

> Director’s Log, 104AC, 8th month, 6th day. I’ve made a start on the repairs to Link’s Purah Pad, but progress is slow. It was pretty badly damaged in the fight, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to save it. To think, just yesterday Link asked me to give it a once over. 

As a stopgap, I’ve booted up a prototype Purah Pad and transferred all of Link’s data and inventory across. Its hardware is barely holding together, so I’ve asked Robbie to return from Hateno Village to help out, but he’s still a day away.  

I’m using the guidance stone console to recover what I can. It looks like most of the data survived, but everything logged in the past week is completely scrambled. I’ll sort it out. I have to. 

I know how much Link’s notes mean to him. Salvaging them is the least I can do. 

---

[ Corrupted data packets identified ]1040802-logtypeTEXT.pkg 1040802-hyrulegarrison-053.img1040804-logtypeTEXT.pkg 1040804-lookoutlanding-055.img 1040805-logtypeAUDIO.pkg UNKNOWN-PRINCESSZELDA.img

Re-compiling… 1040802-logtypeTEXT.pkg Recovery 12.5 / 100%

Log[]da[][]: 10:45. 8th month, 2nd day ##VALUE! Location: Hyrule Ga[][]is[]n [][][][][] Weather: %%UNRECOVERED

%[...]%Glad Tulin and Riju are with me. Have a bad feeling, about all this%[...]%Too many memories in Hyrule, and one over every rise and along every path%[...]%but Riju said I had no need for guilt, and Tulin said it was probably an accident%[...]%

< ~File corrupted, unable to display image > 

Re-compiling… 1040804-logtypeTEXT.pkg Recovery 32.3 / 100% 

[][][] d[]te: ##VALUE! 8th [][][][][], 4th day 104AC ~~~ation: Lookout Lan[][][][] Weather: Mild

%[...]%Robbie’s upgraded the Message Medallions and made one for each Sage%[...]%I’ve briefed the Sages that I think it could be a trap, but we haven’t told the people of Lookout Landing. They’re so sure it’s her. They have so much hope. Who am I to take that away?%[...]%

A half-corrupted photograph, the shapes and colours decaying into noise. To describe it in more detail would be to describe peeling the Purah Pad back layer by layer, and unearthing the wriggling wires, blinking lights and humming components underneath. Look too long, and something starts looking back. 

Caption: C an you% %see m e?

Re-compiling… 1040805-logtypeAUDIO.pkg  Recovery 49.0 / 100% 

RJ | 12:30 %[...]% made it to the Library%[...]% looking worse for wear. 

UNKNOWN | 12:30 Roger that. Yunobo and I are ###here##in here, I’m##in here## 

UNKNOWN | 12:31 Checking in! The Docks are clear but ###Gl# %% %.

YNB| 12:31 Plenty of Gloom here too, goro!

UNKNOWN | 12:32 What about you?%[...]%

LNK | 12:32 I’m at the second gatehouse. And I… 

RJ | 12:32 ##[PURAH]? What’s going on?

---

> Director’s Log, 104AC, 8th month, 7th day - After a day of work and no sleep, I’ve barely made it halfway through the data. I sent Josha off to find me some coffee but Goddess be good, she’d never heard of it. I guess they don’t make it in Kakariko anymore. 

Robbie’s not far away. It’s possible it’s the damage to the Purah Pad itself that causing all the isues. But there’s a lot of noise in the data, more than there should be. Maybe someone’s been messing around with the backend somehow.  

I just hope we can sort this all out before Link gets back. It would help if we knew where he went, and for how long, and why. Scorpis sent scouts, Harth too. They haven’t come back with anything. I told them he’s the Hero of Hyrule for the Goddess’ sake, look harder! 

Okay, I think I’ve nearly cracked the entries made on the day Link and the Sages infiltrated Hyrule Castle. Hopefully something in there will help us find him. 

---

Recompilation complete: 1040804-logtypeTEXT.pkg Recovery 61.7 / 100%  

Log date: 14:45. 8th month, 4th day 104AC Location: Lookout Landing Weather: Mild  

Made it to Lookout Landing with Tulin and Riju. Sidon and Yunobo were already here. All of Hyrule has come for 'Zelda'. 

We’ve spent the morning planning the ‘rescue’. Robbie’s upgraded the Message Medallions and made one for each Sage, so that we can all go to the Castle together and communicate freely. The plan is to hit each main entrance – the Docks, the Library, the Dining Halls and the Gatehouses – all at once. 

I’ve briefed the Sages that I think it could be a trap, but we haven’t told the people of Lookout Landing. They’re so sure it’s her. They have so much hope. Who am I to take that away? 

And there is … another possibility. I can’t promise them Zelda is just an illusion if the opposite is true, but it’s too terrible… What would we do? What would we do, Zelda, if it’s really you causing all these problems in Hyrule, and really you who has turned on us? Goddess, what would we do?

A colourful photograph of Lookout Landing, with the banners of each land of Hyrule visible. Hyrule Castle stands in the background, brightly lit by the sun despite the Gloom that pours out of it. 

Caption: Time to find out. 

---

Re-compilation complete: 1040805-logtypeAUDIO.pkg  Recovery 85.5 / 100%

Audio log transcription date: 104.08.05  Time: 26 minutes 31 seconds. 

LNK | 12:27 Testing… testing… Can you guys hear me? 

RJ | 12:27 Loud and clear! Wow Link, it’s like you’re right here. 

LNK | 12:27 Thank Robbie. This was his idea. 

TLN | 12:28 Cadet Tulin checking in! Or, no, can I be Officer Tulin?

RJ | 12:28 Sure you can, kid. 

TLN | 12:28 Who are YOU calling kid?

RJ | 12:28 Only the Chief of–

YNB | 12:28 Hey guys! President uh… Yunobo, checking in! Is that the right term?

TLN | 12:29 You are President aren’t you?

YNB | 12:29 No the ‘checking in’ part.

TLN | 12:29 I guess?

SDN | 12:30 I am also here! 

LNK | 12:30 Are we all in position?

RJ | 12:30 I’ve made it to the Library. This place is looking worse for wear.

TLN | 12:31 Roger that. Yunobo and I are in the Dining Hall. 

SDN | 12:31 I’m at the Docks. They’re clear but there’s Gloom everywhere. 

YNB | 12:31 Lots of Gloom here too, goro!

RJ | 12:32 What about you, Link? 

LNK | 12:32 I’m at the Second Gatehouse. And I…

RJ | 12:32 Link? What’s going on?

LNK | 12:32 I can see her. 

SDN | 12:33 The Princess? 

TLN | 12:33 Zelda?

LNK | 12:33 I… I don’t know. Hold position, I’m going in.  

SDN | 12:33 Uh, no need for alarm but, there’s something here…

TLN | 12:33 Wait… I can see something too. 

YNB | 12:34 Do you think that’s…?

RJ | 12:34 Zelda!? But, she’s in the Gatehouse! What is she doing here?

SDN | 12:34 It’s… moving. The Gloom is moving…

LNK | 12:34 [roaring, crashing noises] Ack! Everyone! It was a trap! I repeat a trap!

TLN | 12:34 Yunobo watch out!

YNB | 12:34 Monsters! 

RJ | 12:35 They’re everywhere! What happened to Zelda?!

LNK | 12:35 She was bait! Get out of there!

SDN | 12:35 [gasping] H-Help me! Help! It’s got a hold of me! 

LNK | 12:35 Sidon! I’m on my way–

SDN | 12:35 [strangled] No, don't–! You damn-! Hyack, hyah! I’m… I’m free!

LNK | 12:35 Run! Don’t try to fight it!

SDN | 12:35 [screeching in the background] Okay, running!

TLN | 12:36 [arrows whooshing] One down!

YNB | 12:36 Yes, ha hah! We got this little guy, don’t worry!

TLN | 12:36 Not! Little!

RJ | 12:37 [thunder crashing] Take that! And that!

LNK | 12:37 Second Gatehouse is clear. Heading to the west apartments. Everyone report in. 

TLN | 12:38 Roger that, we are nearly–!

YNB | 12:38 Done and done! Dining Hall is clear.

RJ | 12:39 So is the Library. Phew, that was quite the fight. And– oh, Sidon!  You made it from the Docks!

SDN | 12:40 [out of breath] Indeed. 

RJ | 12:40 Those marks on you… what was down there?

SDN | 12:40 I do not know! 

TLN | 12:42 So did we… find Zelda?

YNB | 12:42 I think she left, after those monsters came. 

TLN | 12:43 So it wasn't really her?

YNB | 12:43 Iunno…

RJ | 12:44 Link? What should we do now? 

RJ | 12:46 Link? Say something. You’re scaring us.  

YNB | 12:47 Is…is he alright?

SDN | 12:48 He’ll be fine. Maybe his talking stone is not functioning. 

YNB | 12:49 It’s more of a talking rock.

TLN | 12:49 Looks like a pebble to me.

SDN | 12:49 It is distinctly a glowing stone, the markings typical of–

RJ | 12:48 Can we please focus?! Link, come in! 

LNK | 12:49 I’m here, sorry. Monsters in Zelda’s old room. Caught off guard. Heading to the Inner Sanctum. Everyone else retreat. It’s too dangerous.

SDN | 12:49 No. We will join you. 

TLN | 12:50 We can’t leave now!

YNB | 12:50 We’ve come all this way!

RJ | 12:50 We’ll fight together!   

LNK | 12:50 Okay. I… Thank you.  Approaching the inner sanctum. It seems clear but… 

LNK | 12:51 …Zelda? 

TLN | 12:51 Is it another ghost?

YNB | 12:51 Is it another trap?!

LNK | 12:52 No it’s… it’s really you, isn’t it?

RJ | 12:52 Link! What do you see?  

LNK | 12:52 [softly] You came back…

RJ | 12:52 Link, wait! Wait for us to get there! 

SDN | 12:52 We’re moving as fast as we can! 

LNK | 12:52 I missed you…

RJ | 12:53 Link, answer me! Link!

LNK | 12:53 Zelda… you… wait. No–! [screaming]

RJ | 12:53 Link!

Connection terminated. 

---

> Director’s Log, 104AC, 8th month, 9th day - I’ve managed to recover more of Link’s logs, but Robbie wants me to hand over the Purah Pad ASAP. He took one look at it and shook his head. You’ve outdone yourself this time, he said. I told him I knew my behaviour was not becoming of a Lab Director. He agreed. 

The logs don’t tell me much. I know Link was anxious about going to the Castle, and I know they had a hard fight once they got there, but when he and the Sages returned… he was in hysterics. And the Sages say they just found him like that.  

But it wasn’t all for nothing. The Sages had good and bad news. The ‘Zelda’ we have been seeing everywhere was actually a puppet of the Demon King Ganondorf, who has survived to this era. It was Ganondorf that they fought in the Castle, and Ganondorf that caused all this Gloom and chaos. But the Sages believe there is still one of their number to be found, a fifth Sage, and that with their power they’ll be strong enough to take him on. But Link… 

He said that he didn’t care about the Sages, or Ganondorf, or Hyrule. He said he had to find Zelda and that he had to do it alone. I told him to cool it, and that we must approach this as a team, but he just kept saying he would let us all down, and that we were better off without him. 

I’ll be honest, I lost my temper. Pull yourself together, I said. The whole Kingdom is relying on you to defeat the Demon King, or we’re all dead, don’t you understand!? Zelda will have to wait, if she isn’t lost already! 

He gave me the darkest look. When he grabbed his Purah Pad to teleport away I…I ripped it right out of his hands. He tried to grab it back and there was a tussle and the next I knew, the Purah Pad was smashed against the ground. There was silence, the worst kind, when you know you’ve done a terrible thing. 

I have to repair it. It’s the only way I can think to apologise. And in the time I’ve been working on it, I’ve felt a judgement on me. Watchful eyes, deciding my guilt. I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I feel there’s something alive inside the Purah Pad, something that’s been rattling around in the circuits and is finally awake. I think it knows what happened here. 

Maybe if I keep recovering what I can, I’ll figure out what it is, and maybe I’ll fix everything else too…

Well. Back to work.  

---

Incoming transmission…Processing…

Message Medallion activated.

Connection established.

PRH | 09:00 Hello? 

UNKNOWN | 09:00 Hello, Purah. May I call you that?

PRH | 09:01 Who are you?  How are you — No, I know.  You’re whatever’s living inside the Purah Pad.

UNKNOWN | 09:01 Indeed, I apologise.  I hope my occupation will not be permanent. 

PRH | 09:02 So you tapped the messaging function in order to talk? That’s pretty brilliant.    

UNKNOWN | 09:02 Thank you! I’m glad you think so.  The Purah Pad has been a comfortable home. I am glad to meet its creator.

PRH | 09:03 Oh, it was nothing. I didn’t even know you were there. Anyway – WHO ARE YOU? 

UNKNOWN | 09:04 I would prefer not to say.  I was instructed to reveal myself only to the swordsman, Link. I do not know who I can trust.

PRH | 09:04 You can trust me, can't you? 

UNKNOWN | 09:04 I did call out for you to help me.

PRH | 09:04 And I got your messages.

UNKNOWN | 09:04 The Purah Pad has survived the damage, I see.

PRH | 09:05 Yeah, sorry about that.  That was my doing.  

UNKNOWN | 09:05 And it was your doing to save me.  Very well. I am Mineru, the Sage of Spirit.

PRH | 09:06 A Sage? The others are looking for you, you know. 

MNR | 09:06 I would prefer you allow me to speak to Link and Link only.

PRH | 09:07 Well he’s not here right now.  Something happened at Hyrule Castle.  He never told us what. 

MNR | 09:07 The Castle, yes.  Ganondorf’s cruelty is as boundless as the sky.

PRH | 09:07 You saw what happened?

MNR | 09:08 I see what the Purah Pad sees. Thanks to you, I can finally communicate.

PRH | 09:08 Mineru, we need to know what it was.  If Link abandons us, I don’t know what we’ll do. 

MNR | 09:09 I understand, Lady Purah.  It will be easier to show you.

---

A series of photographs, or perhaps more accurately the memory of them. These images are reconstructed out of others and are more akin to illustrations than true-to-life pictures. The first is an image of Link, stepping into the Inner Sanctum of Hyrule Castle, restored to its former glory. Waiting for him there is Princess Zelda, bright as the sun. She beckons. 

Caption: The puppet Zelda controlled by Ganondorf led us here, but this time when Link laid eyes on her, something was different. He was entranced. 

An image of Link embracing Princess Zelda. He appears to be weeping, they both are. The Princess’ face then darkens, Gloom seeping from her body. 

Caption: You must understand, Lady Purah, that even the tiniest sliver of hope was enough to tempt him. He had spent weeks knowing that this Zelda was not our Princess, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. 

An image of Link crying out in shock as Zelda grabs him by the throat and throws him to the ground. She then goes limp, as the ghostly image of Ganondorf taunts Link from above. 

Caption: I have never seen such rage. Link would have burnt the whole Kingdom down at that moment if it meant destroying Ganondorf. But the Demon King is cruel as he is cowardly. He would not face Link directly. 

An image of a phantom form of Ganondorf which has appeared to face Link. He and Link do battle as the puppet Zelda looks on. The image shifts – the puppet Zelda takes a dagger, and begins to attack at every opportunity. Link dodges her as he fights Ganondorf, unable or perhaps unwilling to retaliate. One of the puppet’s strikes lands across his side, and draws blood. 

Caption: Her betrayal would have been less painful were she not still so graceful, so beautiful. Her image was the one thing Link had wanted to see, and it turned on him with such violence.  

An image of the four Sages approaching the Inner Sanctum to join Link. The puppet Zelda hoists her dagger ready to throw at the intruders. Link cries out and, to prevent her murderous action, sinks a blade through her chest. The puppet falls into his arms, blood staining her white gown. Link holds her close until she dissolves into ash. 

Caption: He was inconsolable. The Sages found him weeping on the stone floor, and when they tried to help him stand, his rage boiled over. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill any of them in his rampage. But they managed to restrain him, and had to listen to the Demon King’s threats of destruction while their Hero shook in their arms. 

A final image of Link, back at Lookout Landing, arguing with the Sages and Purah. There is an altercation, and the Purah Pad falls to the ground, broken. Link departs in a huff, and the image fades to white. 

Caption: This was where he left us, or left me rather. The Sages do not hold anything against Link, but they do not understand. They did not see Zelda, in the Inner Sanctum, as he did. They do not know what he was forced to do to save them, even if it was only a puppet. You say he is missing? There is a log of his yet unrecovered that I believe may set you on the path to find him. Go, and find what you seek. 

---

Re-compilation complete: 1040802-logtypeTEXT.pkg   Recovery 100 / 100%

Log date: 10:45. 8th month, 2nd day 104AC Location: Hyrule Garrison Ruins Weather: Sunny

Short stop over in Hyrule Garrison before we head to Lookout. Tulin was flying over Hyrule Field and spotted us so he joined us on foot. One hour in and he was already complaining about how slow we move. Then he and Riju got talking about which Sage’s Vow is the best, and they’ve been hounding me for my opinion. I’ve convinced them that as Hero of Hyrule I don’t have favourites.

(It’s Tulin’s.) 

Glad Tulin and Riju are with me. Have a bad feeling, about all this. It’s peaceful being alone, but company is good too. Too many memories in Hyrule, and one over every rise and along every path, sometimes. 

One came back to me when we were exploring these ruins. I was young, when I was first sent here, though not sure how young. Did I already have the Sword? It’s all gone now anyway. 

When I was first starting out I was all brute force. The quicker boys, or the ones that didn’t play fair, always had the upper hand. One day I just got fed up. I thought I could dole out some justice. Didn’t know how hard I could hit. The first time I cracked another boy’s skull was the last… but I never really forgot the sound. 

The old me, the original Link, figured out how to quash that anger somehow. The current me is still afraid of what it will do, if pushed too far. I told Riju and Tulin all this, last evening by the fire. I thought they’d be disgusted, but Riju said I had no need for guilt, and Tulin said it was probably an accident anyway. I don’t know. I barely know anything, these days. But I do know I have friends at my side now, and ones I can confide in. Maybe that’s how he figured it out, the Link of times gone by. 

Well, present day Link has to press on, no matter what dread he’s feeling. Hyrule Castle is only a day away, and Zelda is waiting. (As is the gear she made me, hopefully) 

A photograph of Hyrule Field, with the looming Hyrule Castle on the horizon. It bleeds Gloom and beckons, forebodingly. 

Caption: I miss the times we had there.   

[ All corrupted logs recovered. ]

---

> Director’s Log, 104AC, 8th month, 10th day - It’s done. The Purah Pad put back together and given a polish thanks to Robbie and Josha respectively. 

I think I know where Link went now. It’s the only place no one thought to look, because it’s the one place we were sure he’d wouldn’t go. Zelda spoke of it, half a year ago now, and of the treasure she left him. I’m going to go there myself to deliver the Purah Pad to him, and make my apology. 

Before I go: Lady Mineru, I know you can hear me. I’m looking at the Purah Pad right now, all but talking directly to you. I have to wall you off again, Mineru, I’m so sorry. Your awakened presence in the Purah Pad is frying its circuits. I don’t know how you even got in there in the first place. Maybe you’ll tell us someday, but for now our priority must be keeping you alive. I’ll tell Link that the Purah Pad is the key to the fifth Sage when I hand it to him. I’m sure he’ll get you out of there somehow. 

I’ve also decided to delete the images you showed me of what happened in the Inner Sanctum. I don’t know how to tell Link what I know, or if I even should. But I will tell him I know how he’s feeling. We all miss Zelda, so very much. Our world ended twice over when we lost her. I can’t offer him much more than that, but I think that’s okay. Sometimes hope isn’t what you need. Sometimes all you need is to cry, and when that happens, it’s easier if you’re not crying alone. 

Okay, back to work. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. One of them will be our day. 

---

Log date: 17:10. 8th month, 10th day 104AC. Location: Mabe Village Ruins Weather: Cool.

Ah, the relief, having the Purah Pad back. You start to rely on this tech, once it’s part of your day-to-day. And there's no way to lose your memory if you write it all down. It's funny, Purah was the one who found me, in the Throne Room. There wasn’t much to say. We were both pretty sorry. Hugged it out, shed some tears, patched things up. Then I showed her why I'd returned there: the new Champion Leathers, bespoke made by Zelda. 

They fit perfect, a good blend of the old tunic and some new additions. Not sure what prompted the memory of her note about it, but I just knew I wasn’t going to let Ganondorf take that place from us. Zelda and I met there, after all, a long time ago now. 

Head’s still muddy. I don’t like thinking about what happened in there. Nearly let my anger get the better of me, nearly let it hurt my friends. I thought the Sages would abandon me for it but, they stuck by me, and carried me kicking and screaming out of that Castle. It’s so easy to let rage destroy you – when someone holds you back from that, it means something. I’ll find a way to thank them, in time. For now, I've apologised at least three times over. 

After all that, I think I’m not afraid of the anger, anymore. It’s just a part of me, as much as any other feeling. Old Link stamped out his feelings. The new one is going to try and roll with them.  

Heading south. There’s more geoglyphs that way, more ruins to explore, and pirates in Lurelin (apparently). Kind of excited about the last one. It’s been a rough few weeks. I promised the Sages I wouldn’t get too sidetracked, and would definitely find the fifth Sage in no time. But, come on, pirates! Let us have one fun thing to look forward to… 

A photograph of the waters of Mabe Prairie lake. In the reflection is Link, holding the Purah Pad, the impassive camera eye looking back upon itself. Garini of Lurelin Village is by his side, waving.

Caption: Me and my indispensable travel companion, and also Garini. 

[darchildre]

So, because I have no impulse control and lack the patience to wait for an ILL (and had a gift card I had forgotten about), I went ahead and bought The Murderer Invisible. And then read about a third of it today. Points of interest so far:

Thing 1: The dude who's planning to become invisible is a) named William Carpenter, which is not at all a good monster name, b) has a secret lab in New Jersey of all places, c) wants to become invisible because i) he's ugly and is tired of people reacting negatively to it and ii) for REVENGE on...somebody for...something. The backstory for the REVENGE motive is pretty vague so far.

Thing 2: Carpenter, like Griffin Invisibleman, is an abrasive asshole that nobody really likes. Unlike Griffin, he is not completely broke and in fact appears to have a lot of money, which means he has a house and can maintain social connections. He has relationships with, like, three whole people (including his housekeeper, whom we will call Person 3).

Thing 3: Person 1 is his niece, Daryl, who shows up on Carpenter's doorstep in the first chapter because she is an orphan from North Dakota with nowhere else to go but to her uncle she's never met before. There is a lot of emphasis early in the book on the fact that her dad is Carpenter's adopted brother and therefore they aren't actually blood relations. Being hella ace and oblivious, it took me far too long to realize why the book was doing this. (Ick.)

Thing 4: Person 2 that Carpenter knows is the most ridiculous human being imaginable: his name is fucking Bromwell Baxter, I swear to god, and he is a) handsome, b) athletic (was a quarterback/tried to climb Mt Everest), c) one of those 1930s movie scientists who knows how to do All The Sciences, d) a person who talks like the lead in a screwball comedy. Baxter has been corresponding with Carpenter about his invisibility project for some time and has recently joined him and Daryl in the house to provide hands-on assistance and also fall in love with Daryl.

Thing 5: THERE IS AN INVISIBLE OCTOPUS IN THIS BOOK.

Thing 6:

...let us conceive of an invisible cobra. Dropped into a room filled with people for whom you have a certain animosity. ... Suppose we let loose a hungry tiger that is invisible. People on the street are knocked down - they scream - great rents are burst open in them -

An invisible dude is not actually particularly scary - he is necessarily naked and unarmed (and, if Griffin, probably has at least a mild cold). An invisible tiger is fucking terrifying.

Thing 7: Anyway, Carpenter has currently trapped both Baxter and Daryl in his cellar while he proceeds to makes himself invisible. He plans to then somehow convince Daryl to "love him" (the book is from 1931 and is therefore being very circumspect about sexual assault/rape, but that's definitely what's on the table), making this chronologically the first invisible person story I've thus encountered to actually contain sexual misconduct/violence. None of the peeping tom nonsense one associates with modern iterations of the trope, but dude isn't actually invisible yet, so that may still be coming.

Thing 8: As I left off, he is currently becoming invisible - he had to use Science to entirely bleach all his tissues first (?), then shaved off all the hair on his body (??). As of the end of chapter 3, Carpenter has taken his Invisibility Potion, but it has only turned the fleshy parts of him invisible, so he is currently a walking skeleton. The author is trying very hard to make me feel body horror feelings about the skeleton, but it is not quite working for me.

[macabrebatz]

Bo Sinclair NSFW Alphabet

Author's Note: What's this? My first time ever writing anything remotely smut related? Yep. Here we are. It was a long time coming honestly. I've NEVER written smut before, only the occasional sexual innuendo. So please go easy on me. This also means that this book is officially being tagged as mature.

Warning: This chapter is for 18+. Minors do not interact.

A=Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Bo is surprisingly attentive when it comes to aftercare. He'll help clean you up and once that's done you can expect some cuddling.

B=Body Part (what's their favorite body part of yours)

He's an ass guy. Surprise, surprise. It doesn't matter if your butt is big or small or flat, he doesn't care.

C=Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When it comes to location, Bo actually doesn't have much of a preference. He'll probably go with whatever you insist on. He'll pull out if you want or he'll cum inside you. He likes to respect your preference since he doesn't really have one.

D=Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

First off, he likes hair pulling. Something about it really gets him going. And secondly, he has a major praise kink but I doubt he'll admit to it.

E=Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing)

Bo is actually decently experienced. He's had a few one night stands and a few hook ups with tourists who hadn't realized how unlucky they were. He knows what he's doing most of the time and if he doesn't, he can learn quick.

F=Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. A bit vanilla, perhaps, but he wants to be able to see you. On the rare occasion, he'll go for doggy style. And if you can convince him to sub, cowgirl it is.

G=Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bo isn't that goofy when it comes to sex, however, he's not serious 100% of the time either. He likes sex to be fun for both you and him. He's a tease and can be rather playful sometimes.

H=Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bo is pretty well groomed down there. He usually keeps his hair trimmed. As for body hair on his partner, he doesn't really mind. It's just hair after all.

I=Intimacy (how are they during the moment, intimately/romantically speaking?)

Bo can be very intimate but you might have to break down some of his walks first. Vulnerability isn't a strong suit of his and it may take a while to see his soft, intimate side.

J=Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it an average amount of times unless he happens to be extremely turned on. As for what gets him in the mood to do so, it's you.

K=Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation. Not him, you. Honestly, he can't get enough of seeing you overstimulated sometimes. But if it truly becomes too much, he will stop. He would never want to push you too far over the limit.

Exhibition. Something about just the thought of someone possibly seeing the two of you really gets Bo going. He has absolutely thought about having sex with you in the garage of the gas station, especially when he knows some unwanted tourists could be lurking around.

Breeding. A feel like this one shouldn't have to be explained. Come on, we all knew this was coming. To be fair, this is more of a mild kink of his.

Edging and orgasm denial. This motherfucker truly can't get enough of edging you. He loves to get you right on the brink of climax and being the asshole he is, purposely stops doing whatever he's doing. And he'll keep doing it until your an absolute mess.

L=Location (favorite places to do it)

Usually he prefers the bedroom, but like I said before, I think Bo might have a little exhibition kink. So location doesn't really matter to him all that much. I do however think there are days where he prefers privacy and will default to the bedroom.

M=Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When it comes to turn ons, he's pretty simple. Flirting, sexy clothes, etc., etc. He is a sucker for begging. He really likes to see you being needy for some reason.

N=No (something they won't do)

Bondage. Tying him up is out of the question. Just...no. He has trauma that comes from being bound so it's not happening. Tying you up is a different story though. He will absolutely tie you up.

O=Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Likes receiving but much rather give. He loves to watch you come undone while he's down there. Hearing you and seeing you while he goes to town drives him wild.

P=Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bo can definitely fall into both categories. It honestly all depends on how both of you are feeling (and whether or not Bo is comfortable with vulnerability).

Q=Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bo doesn't mind quickies at all. If you're down, he's down. They don't happen too often but the option is always there.

R=Risk (are they up to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bo is fine with risk and he's open to new things. He obviously has his boundaries though ( *cough* don't tie him up *cough* ). If he doesn't want to do something, he isn't afraid to voice his opinion. But he usually is fine with experimenting.

S=Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has a high libido and I feel like that fuels his stamina. Bo could easily go multiple rounds. I feel like he could honestly go up to 3 rounds at least. He does have his limits though.

T=Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bo is not opposed to toys, however, he prefers to use them on you. It might take a little bit of time (and a lot of convincing) before he lets you use one on him.

U=Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

This motherfucker right here is the king of teasing. It's his love language. His bread and butter. He's an asshole. He know it and he likes it. Hearing you whine is like music to his ears. He likes to watch you unravel and he always knows exactly how to do it. Bo pays attention to everything you do and by now he knows every little thing that gets you going.

And don’t be shy, tease him back.

V=Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make, etc.?)

When it comes to volume, Bo is average. He's not too loud but he's not silent either. You'll definitely get plenty of moans and little grunts out of him. The close you two get, the more likely he is to get louder.

W=Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

Deep down, and I mean really deep down, there's a sub in Bo. He hates to admit it but he is in fact a switch. You'll only discover this if you break down those walls I was talking about. Bo isn't really openly vulnerable and he considers being anything but dominate, vulnerability. It may take some work to get him to be comfortable with this side of him but it can happen. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he craves softness. He craves intimacy. And deep down he craves the feeling of being taken care of. The best thing you can do is start slow. And I mean really slow. But eventually, you'll see a new side of him.

X=X-Ray (what's going on under those clothes)

This man right here is packing. When it comes to length, he is a bit above average but he is rather thick. If you must know, he is circumcised.

Y=Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Pretty high but his libido isn't extreme. Bo is pretty much always ready sex.

Z =Zzzzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bo can fall asleep rather quickly. He likes to hold onto you and cuddle as both of you go to sleep.

Author's Note: And that's it! I can't believe I just wrote my first smut related...anything. I hope it wasn't too bad. My face is on fire right now so...see you in the next chapter.

[diavolosthots]

I loooove Lucifer’s wings. I have to confess, I think I have a wing kink. It’s not spicy but can I have mc just kinda... out of the blue stroking his feathers, straightening them out? I suppose it could be preening but it’s just more of wanting to snuggle into those wings. If you’d like to make it spicy you can.

On another note thank you for writing so much requests. It must be overwhelming at times and honestly I don’t know how you do it. But please know that I greatly appreciate all that you do for the part of this fandom that is good. Happy writing, Your Majesty! :D

Supernatural awakened my wing!kink so I totally get this haha. It IS overwhelming at times and college is stressing me out right now so I have to cut down on writing way more than I would like to 😩 i hate it. Thank you so much, darling ❤

Warning: slight NSFW at the end-ish

A Demon's Wings (LUCIFER X GN!READER)

(Shoutout if you realized that that GIF is from supernatural's Michael lol the irony)

He should’ve known better than to trust his brothers on April fools. Millennia of experience should have warned him that they wouldn’t miss him, and they sure as hell wouldn’t go easy on him, but to mess with his wings? To tamper with the strongest but also simultaneously the weakest part of his demonic anatomy? That’s just a low blow. To say Lucifer was pissed is an understatement. Even after he washed all the honey off his feathers and got them back to a resemblance of what they used to be, he couldn’t help but sit under a dark cloud. He felt humiliated and to a certain extent, betrayed. Never had they ever gone for his wings, and at this point, he would’ve rather have them go for his horns. You see, an angel’s wings are their most precious parts and although Lucifer isn’t an angel anymore, he still cherishes his wings. They bring him both sadness and confidence. They’re beautiful and he knows it, and although they’re not what they used to be, he uses them as a reminder that he has withstood even the darkest of days. 

Right now, he has allowed himself a moment on his bed, stomach down with his head resting on his crossed arms. It’s an unusual sight, indeed, but after making sure the door was covered in several spells and magic that only the strongest demon could undo, he allowed himself to let his guard down. Every once in a while, and by that I mean around once a century, he lets himself just be. His natural form is out, wings spread wide across his sheets as relaxation slowly creeps through his body. Sometimes he likes to put some music on, like today. Classical, of course. The fireplace is burning and the room is dimmed to a soft light; some might think this to be a romantic setting, except that Lucifer had no one to share it with. “Lucifer?” or so he thought. Your sweet voice rang through the door, which was slowly opening. His whole body tensed, eyes growing wide momentarily as he watched you slip in. He supposes he forgot that although the magic would ward off other demons, only a locked door would keep a curious human such as yourself out. He should’ve known you would come to check up on him, too. You always do; always worried about his well being. 

He barely had time to stand up before you made your presence known in his room. “(Y/N)...” Your eyes immediately landed on his wings, worry and awe shining in them, or so he believes. It’s odd, really. Not that you were concerned, of course, no. You always worried about him and he finds it endearing more often than not. “Are… Are they okay?” You carefully approached him, scared that he will just turn away or change into his more human form to keep you away, to keep you at arm’s length, but he did neither of that. He stood still. “They’re fine.” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but your genuine interest in them, especially after that prank, has him on guard. You, however, were just fascinated by them. They were gorgeous and fit him so well. You love the look of them and how seemingly soft they are, although you didn’t really know the latter for sure. 

“I’m sorry i… I just wanted to check on you. They’re still snickering and laughing about the incident but I figured… they may have gone a little too far.” Lucifer’s still watching you cautiously, although he finds mild amusement in your current state of worry. “I had nothing to do with it, by the way… I knew they were planning something. I’m sorry. I should have told you.” “Is that why you came here? To apologize?” He’s tense. You never gave him a reason not to trust him and he’s trying to remember that, but his wings are precious to him and he’s scared of anything else happening to them. “Yes… I feel awful. I thought they may dump water over your head, or trip you down the stairs. I never thought they’d go for your most precious part.” The minute those words left your mouth, you could feel your face heat up, eyes wide as you looked at Lucifer. “I-I mean… I’m assuming that they’re pretty precious…” 

Lucifer let out a soft sigh, turning around to make some tea for the two of you because you won’t be leaving again until you tell him everything about that prank, “tell me, Darling, what e---!” But before he could, your hand hand raked through his feathers, causing him to tense up again, a deep blush creeping across his face. “(Y/N).” He tried to sound stern, he tried to not let his composure falter, and he certainly tried to avoid pushing his wings back into your hand for more. “S-Sorry… I just.. They’re… wow…” once again your hand was in his feathers, feeling through the softness of them although you took note of the strong bone structure in them; they were nothing to mess with. Lucifer shuddered at the touch, quickly turning around to face you and grab your arm, holding it up, “Don’t… I won’t be able to hold back once you start.” 

The truth is, wings are sensitive. Wings can have certain…. Effects on their wearers. Touching his wings is intimate, not to be taken lightly, and he’s not sure you understand the severity of what you’re doing. “Then don’t.” Or maybe you do and you’re just a fool. Your hands are itching to get back into his feathers, Lucifer could tell, and in some way, it’s making it even harder to say no. He craves touch more than anything, more than he would like to admit, but he craves your touch the most. Slowly, he brought your hand up to his face, leaning his cheek against it before placing a loving kiss to your wrist. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Darling.” He managed a soft smile. As much as he would love for you both to explore each other so deeply, he’s scared you won’t be able to handle it, or worse, that he will lose complete control. “But I do… I found a book… about an angel’s wings. I know you’re a demon now, but you were an angel once too… please…. I want this.”

His eyes were fixated on yours, staring at you for what seemed like eternity while he weighed the pros and cons in his mind. “Take your clothes off.” It was a bold statement, yes, but he hoped you would just follow his orders. He let go of your hand, moving past you to lock the door completely and then cast an extra spell on it, turning back around to see you had started on it. Your shirt was thrown somewhere and your pants began to be unbuckled, but before they could fall as well, he moved over in two long strides, cupping your face in his gloved hands to place a deep kiss against your lips, his wings slowly, carefully moving inward to brush over your naked arms. Your hands moved back into his feathers and Lucifer took in a sharp breath, his lips against yours becoming more bruising in a head-turning kiss. “You won’t be ab--” “I know, Lucifer, I know.” your eyes searched his, nothing of love and adoration for him shown within them. Your fingers danced on his black feathers and your eyes landed on them with a smile, “please.”  

Lucifer took a deep breath, gently pushing you down on his bed before getting to work on his own clothes, his lower sets of wings dropping down, yearning for more of your touch, “then tonight, I will make you mine.” 

[freeing-the-man]

THOUGHT OF ACTUAL QUESTION!

Do you have any insight into the big green claw thingies? Also, are they all one creature or like a nest of several?? (If this has been asked before I am so sorry for the repeat 😅)

I'm guessing you meant these? I hope, In the game these are called Tentacles, I'm pretty sure I called them Xen serpents though, I could absolutely be wrong, my memory around this one is a bit fuzzy. I believe I've gotten to a clearer point though! Enough to talk about it that is. They seem related in some form; to Xen trees, I could be wrong but they felt and looked fairly similar, at the least they're structured similarly both biologically and physiologically. Not only do they respond to similar senses, however react surprisingly similarly.

I know the Xen trees aren't just a 'younger' form of these, I can rule that out with a couple things: First and foremost, I believe I saw the beginnings of these guys, however I can confirm by talking with Alyx that she saw these in multiple different stages. However why just leave it at that. These tentacles, or serpents, grew in small clusters, and while Xen trees absolutely tended to grow in groups, they were not attached to each other, they just reproduced close by, and that's as far as it would seem to go. Groups of fungi are different from one big branching fungi. Xen trees could tell location and size through vibration and potentially extremely primitive eyes, while with these serpents you could see them having more pin-hole eyes, think similar to nautilus, though a bit different in shape. Plus they responded to sound as well --yes I tested it, yes I'm a tad insane, Sometimes you're a funky physicist with near nothing to lose but also everything to lose, and decide to fuck around and find out with alien fauna- whether or not there's a backup plan, let alone thoughts to back up the impulse, I'd say can you blame me but- the answer is a bit evident--

On the topic of that, the cluster in sector D seemed- disoriented? They were the first I came across, and some of the largest, excluding Xen. They seemed a bit wobbly looking back, and had a mild delay, to be fair they're built for a thick atmosphere, and- not- being surrounded with metal of all things, which can be a bit jarring in both vibration and echo. How the fuck they even survived that long I have no idea.

Also here's a baby, going off translucency, rather than color. Reminded me of young headcrabs, though I know both are *very* much not related, another comparison would be slings/spiderlings, or spiders after molt; a bit soft in comparison, though these were not squishy by any means, just not rock hard.

Let me know if you have any further questions :] I'll do my best to answer, and apologies for getting this to you so late! I wanted to make the art fairly good quality, so I decided to stream it these past Sundays.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; established relationship yoongi x reader

summary: The love of your life, BTS’s very own Min Yoongi, tells you he has a gift for you. But he also says you’re not allowed to refuse. What’s that supposed to mean, hm? Surely not... wild hot sex with the Golden Maknae himself?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (takes place after his surgery); smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, dirty talk, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; it’s self-indulgent and I’m a little ashamed but it’s too late now, whoops

--

Just... just looking through the Twitter tag couldn't hurt, right?

You scrolled through the pictures slowly. They performed really well these past two days. Received all the awards they deserved, because BTS were the best. Still, it depressed you seeing the empty space where Min Yoongi was supposed to be. 

But that was because Yoongi was beside you, propped up in the bed with pillows, scrolling on his phone with his right hand. Occasionally, he would lower it to use both hands, since his left arm was still in the sling. You two had watched the MMA and MAMA 2020 performances together. You knew he wanted to be there. You could hear it in his voice when he called in. 

Oh, that’s right, were you supposed to be in his apartment?

No. 

But you didn't care about rules and neither did Yoongi. 

Were you dating? Well, as much as dating could be when it came to a relationship with the most loved 'lil meow meow' in the whole world. 

Yoongi always gave you this look of disapproval when you called him that, but you would always just smile and say it again, slower. 

It was the kind of thing that simply fell into place and neither of you wanted to convolute it with too many other opinions or thoughts. What happened, happened. You weren't going to make yourself known or ask for impossible things. When he told you that he was getting surgery for his left shoulder and wouldn’t have schedules for a long while, you cashed in on all those sick hours you accumulated at work, stating you had to take care of a loved one. 

No one knew your loved one was Min Yoongi. And that's way you two liked it. 

Yoongi leaned over to the long straw of the water bottle tucked in the crook of your arm. 

"Staring at our maknae again?"

You stiffened. "I'm looking at all their pictures, Yoongi. Just happened to stop on Jungkook."

He took a short sip.

"Mmm-hmm."

A few seconds past. You stared at Jungkook’s intense dark eyes, his long hair flying about from dancing, his clenched jaw as he focused. Looking sinful in all white, tempting you to save the photos.

"You're not changing the screen."

"I'm admiring the stylists' hard work."

Yoongi hummed. "You're a bad liar."

You would have thrown your phone at him if it wasn't the special edition BTS S20+, complete with a Shooky phone case. You swiped past, seeing the image of Jungkook lifting Jimin in the Black Swan performance.

"I should tell him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sick of me?"

"No." He pointed to his left arm. "Can't take care of you either."

"I don't want to be the reason you need more months of physical therapy. I'm fine."

Yoongi placed his phone in his lap and placed his right arm around your shoulders. "We could risk it," he purred. 

You chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "I want to see you preform again."

"But you still want to bang Jungkookie."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. "I'm only looking at the pictures, Yoongi. You know you're the only one for me."

"You wouldn't try? Even if he begged you?"

You turned to Yoongi and his crafty smirk. "No." You stared at his lips and leaned in, kissing him lightly. You smiled against them. "I love you, Yoongi." Your smile turned into a smirk. "I worked too hard to sneak in here. Even outsmarted Dispatch. You can't get rid of me so easily."

Yoongi smiled back. He leaned against the headboard.

"What if I was okay with it?”

You blinked at him. "Why would you be okay with it?”

Yoongi shrugged. "You're mine, no matter what, no? Not even Jungkook's dick is going to change that."

"... Hah?"

Yoongi held up his hand, long fingers spread out. He ticked them down as he spoke. "Pros: my woman gets to satisfy her little crush, gets the fucking she wants, and will be happy."

You felt your ears burn. "Yoongi..."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, wicked smile on his lips. "Cons... none."

You rolled your eyes. "You'd be pissed off."

He tilted his head. "What do I have to be pissed off for? Are you saying there's a reason I should be worried?"

You frowned. "No. Even if it did happen, which it won't, you will always be number one."

Yoongi nodded. "There you go."

You let out a puff of air. "I don't think Jungkook would agree anyway. And I wouldn't do it, because it's not the right thing to do."

"Who decided it's wrong?"

You made a face. "I don't know... society?"

"And we trust that societal rules are just and moral?"

"I mean, no..."

-

Washing your hair was always a pain in the ass.

You had to blow-dry it upside down, add five products at different stages, brush it super carefully with a special brush to avoid breakage, collect the fallen hair and throw it out, blah blah blah.

You shrugged on one of Yoongi's shirts after the shower – the black-and-white checkered one he wore during his VLive. Running your hand through your hair, you finally picked up your phone. Yoongi was at physical therapy, so he wouldn't be back for a while. You had some messages from him, probably before he had to put his phone away.

I sent you a gift. It will arrive today. You are not allowed to refuse.

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

P.S. Merry early Christmas. 

Was it jewelry? You pursed your lips. You always told Yoongi not to buy you things. Firstly, because you felt bad you could never reciprocate the amount he spent. You didn't make the money he made, after all. And secondly, you weren't that interested in owning expensive things. The only expensive items you loved were technology-based. Yoongi and you bonded over the newest Samsung products and always kept an eye on the latest tech. 

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had to collect a package. You mused, brushing your teeth. You were going to borrow Yoongi's pants, but you had to go hunt for some. After the teeth brushing. 

You spat and gargled some water.

The front door opened. 

You frowned. Was physical therapy canceled? Yoongi didn't have people come in and clean the apartment, because he didn't want anyone to find you. You weren't supposed to be here and no one knew you were here – except for his members, of course. But they didn't have the key, so it had to be Yoongi. You waited, in case there was someone outside. You didn't want them to hear your voice. The door closed and relocked.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth before turning off the light and going to the hallway.

"Yoongi, was physical therapy can–"

The head of long black hair lifted and turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his black sneakers. He pulled down his black face mask.

It was not Yoongi. 

"Hey, noona."

Abort.

You backed up. 

"J-J-Jungkook?"

The mischievous maknae grinned. 

"I'm the gift."

Your eyes widened. You whipped your phone to your face, nearly dropping it, juggling it for two seconds before slapping it between your palms and rereading Yoongi's messages. Rereading them way too many times because what? What, what, WHAT?

"D-don't you have p-practice?" Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered. But you never had that conversation with Yoongi until a couple days ago either. 

"I have some time, but I have to go back, yeah," Jungkook replied, far too cheerfully for how flustered you were. He was probably trying not to laugh at you. 

"How did you get in? And what do you mean, y-you're the...?"

You felt like your world was spinning. Did Jeon Jungkook just announce he was the gift? What? You're not allowed to refuse. Of course, you were going to refuse! This was Min Yoongi you were in love with! The cutest in the entire world! 

Jungkook brushed back part of his long hair and tucked it behind his ear, revealing half of his forehead and his silver hoops. Smirk on his pink lips, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. Skin tan and glowing in the hallway light.

...

Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook was very handsome, but it didn't matter because–

"Hyung and I had a talk. He gave me the key," Jungkook said, dangling it. 

"Hahaha, why would be do that?" you laughed nervously, still crab-walking backwards because maybe if you just fused with the wall then you were be spared from those penetrating dark brown eyes.

Jungkook stepped into the apartment, following you. “I was surprised too.” He smiled somewhat apologetically. “I guess he overheard me telling Taehyung that I would totally fuck you if you weren’t hyung’s girlfriend.”

You blinked rapidly. “P-pardon?”

Jungkook held up his hands. Oh dear. His pretty, large hands that reminded you of Yoongi’s, but his right hand was tattooed. “But I wasn’t going to do anything though. Promise.” His eyes shifted upwards and then he looked back at you, his rueful expression turning into one of slyness. Shit. “Well, until Yoongi-hyung asked me to, that is.”

You stumbled in the doorframe of the bedroom. To be honest, you kept backing up because Jungkook advancing on you was making you uneasy, hot, and bothered. With emphasis on the latter two. You still couldn’t believe Yoongi would do this to you. This was Yoongi! Mild-mannered, sweetie with swagger, SUGA of BTS!

Then you had a thought.

You were always very good at teasing Yoongi. Either to annoy him or sexually in public situations. You could imagine Yoongi’s smirking face now. Knowing he got the one-up on you. Knowing he’d finally shocked you.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. A hot shiver went up your spine. Jungkook was right in front of you. Black parka, black jeans. Jungkook unzipped the parka, shrugging out of it. Black dress shirt. You knew Jungkook did not like wearing button-ups. Why was he wearing it? He unbuttoned the first one, revealing his collarbone. Then the second one. Open-mouthed smirk completed with his tongue between his teeth, dark eyes on your shaking form.

The maknae was going to fucking striptease you?

You held a hand up. “Hold on a second.”

Jungkook’s fingertips paused above the next button.

“You’re doing this… for fun?”

Jungkook tilted his head. “No. Not really for fun.” His voice was low, deep. His eyes trailed down your body, then back up to your face, lingering all over you. You swallowed. “I’m doing this because this is the only chance I’ll get.”

“What if I say no?”

Jungkook lowered his hand. “Hyung said you weren’t allowed to refuse.” His voice was softer now, almost pouting. Ouch. It actually pained you. You wanted to give in to him just like that. You loved Yoongi with all your heart, but the maknae’s charms definitely worked on you. They worked on everyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and wanted to give him everything.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, trying to reorient yourself, trying to find the right words. “I’m not saying I’m not interested. I definitely am.” He observed you carefully as you groped for the right words. “But this is a little crazy. And… you could get anyone.”

“I couldn’t get you.”

You slowly, slowly made eye contact with him. Jungkook took a step towards you. You didn’t move, transfixed by his chocolate eyes.

“The way you slowly fell in love with Yoongi-hyung,” he whispered, getting closer and closer. “You didn’t even notice. You still don’t notice. The way I stare at you, you and the beautiful shape of your eyes.” His finger came up and traced your eyes, rooting you in place. “Your cute nose. The shape of your lips.” His fingertip brushed against your lower lip. “So full. I watch you kiss him, wishing it was me.” He caressed your cheek. “The dimples that appear when you smile. So cruel.”

Jungkook’s breathing shallowed. His eyes flickered downwards to your hands, still clutching your phone. He reached for it and took it from you. Threw it onto the bed. Then his hands wrapped around yours, clutching them tight. You stopped breathing. Jungkook’s voice dropped several octaves.

“I watch your hands. Touching him, resting on his thigh, tracing up, palming him right in front of us.”

“I didn’t… think anyone would notice.”

Jungkook leaned in even more, still holding your hands tightly, as if they were going to disappear. You could smell his clean scent, like fresh laundry.

“I always notice,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re there, I can’t help but have my eyes on you. I couldn’t touch, but I could look. I thought that was all I could have.”

Jungkook let go of you. Hand dancing up your neck, cupping your cheek. Tilted his head, eyelashes lowering. Breath against your lips. Eyes pleading you, waiting for the heartbreak.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You pressed your lips against Jungkook’s, eyes closing. It was impossible to say no. He was sweet and soft. You could feel his nerves and his fear in his kiss, not trying to ask for more, not wanting to ask for too much. It was you who hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Right, wrong? That didn’t matter right now. The only thing you cared about right now was taking Jungkook’s fear away.

You pulled him onto the bed, arms around his neck, mumbling his name against his lips. His breathing hitched, hands circling your waist, holding onto you.

“Noona…”

“Call me by name, Jungkook.”

He gulped, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He gnawed on his lip anxiously. You smiled, and took his hands, placing them by the buttons of his shirt.

“Weren’t you in the middle of giving me a show?” you teased. “You’re great at putting on a show.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

You settled down into the bed, looking up at him from in between his thighs. You could tell Jungkook was still nervous, but there was something else too. His mischief was creeping back into his sparkling eyes. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. He undid another button. And another. Carefully, playfully pulling the fabric apart, revealing a little of his skin at a time.

“Hyung told me you like staring at my pictures.”

You shrugged, licking your lips. “They’re nice photos.”

“Were you satisfied by just looking at pictures?” he purred, already reaching lower, lower. You could see the contours of his muscular torso, the top of his abs. Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. Scratch that, so fucking hot. He reached the bottom of his shirt and placed two fingers under your chin, pushing it back up to his face.

“My eyes are up here.”

His fingers under your chin made you realize how hard you were breathing.

“Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at you, long hair covering part of his face.

Yoongi’s words came back to you. My woman gets to satisfy her little crush. At the time, you thought those words were referring to your crush in Jungkook. But perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe Yoongi was referring to you satisfying Jungkook.

“Don’t hold back.”

And then you got up from the bed, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and yanking them down Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him again, but harder this time, tongue sliding into his mouth and thrusting into it, taking his breath away. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, gasping against your tongue, struggling to get out of his sleeves before he scrambled for the buttons on your shirt, moaning as you sucked on his tongue, gripping his upper arms.

“N-noona…”

“Call me by name or nothing at all,” you growled dangerously.

His dark eyes bored into you, daring you. You nipped at his lower lip, grinning.

“You think you’re the only one who’s horny here?”

Your hands danced around his arms, reaching around him, and your nails scratched him down his broad back, hissing as he moaned, tipping his head back, Adam’s apple shaking. Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good to drag your nails down that back, seeing Jungkook lose some control, falling more and more into the moment. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, shuddering as his hard body was pressed against you and your half-open shirt.

“I want it all,” you breathed. “I’m so greedy, but I want it all, Jungkook. Give it to me.” Voice dropping, inhaling his delicious scent. “Please.”

He growled deep in his chest and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, yanking up and revealing your bra clasp, undoing it easily. Pushed you back, swiftly pulling your shirt and bra off together, tossing it aside to the floor.

“Fuck, your tits are as pretty as I thought they would be.”

And then Jungkook’s mouth was on you, furiously kissing down your neck, licking your collarbones, biting your shoulder, his hands roughly squeezing your breasts. You moaned, your nipples pressed against his thumbs, pinching them against the side of his hand. His lips travelled down, down and then they latched around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands flew up into his hair, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, they even taste good,” he whined. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your back arched as he began to suck, running your hands through his hair, whimpering his name, telling him how good he was, how nice it felt, lost in the feeling of his tongue and his strong arms around your waist. He switched to the other nipple, saliva dripping. Licking it all over and then breathing on it with his hot breath. Your entire body trembled in his arms from the sensation.

“I’m drooling; that’s how fucking good you taste,” Jungkook mumbled, sucking hard and tight, dark eyes on you as you cried out softly, holding onto his head. Your fingers curled into his long locks, grasping them tightly. He raised his eyebrow, but you began to rock back and forth into his mouth, tugging your nipple with his lips. Jungkook’s fingers dug into you, erotic groans vibrating in his throat as you fucked his face with your tits.

Wetness soaked your panties, the scent of your sex getting stronger and stronger.

Jungkook removed his lips, sucking in a tight breath. Your name slid out of his mouth in a tight hiss, no honorifics. You felt your pussy throb hearing your name come from his lips, saturated with desire. You grinned.

“Took you long enough, Jungkookie.”

He chuckled, grabbing your hips and shoving them up into his jean-covered crotch. You gasped. You could feel his erection straining against the thick fabric, grinding against your soaked panties. Fuck, you couldn’t stop staring at Jungkook, him and his sharp jawline and his beautiful eyes and his playful smirk on his damn lips, infuriating and arousing you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” you whispered, rolling your hips into him hard. It was his turn to gasp, his turn to shudder at your movements. The way you could turn him from smug confidence to those submissive doe eyes was turning you on way too much.

You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. He yelped as you slid down, nails racking down his torso, whimpering in your wake. The front of his jeans was wet with your juices. You undid the button, zipping them down.

“How are you going to explain this?” you smirked, gesturing down to the giant wet sport at the front of his pants.

“They’re black,” Jungkook panted. “It’ll be fine.”

You laughed, pulling them down his legs. Jungkook’s hand flew down, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a condom. You tilted your head.

“Only one?”

He looked down at you, startled. “W-well… I don’t know if you want more….”

You raised an eyebrow and reached over to the nightstand, opening it and taking out the whole damn box.

“Er… I cannot cum that many times. In one sitting, anyway.”

“Ah, well, let’s just see then.”

You peeled his jeans and boxer briefs off, licking your lips as your hungry eyes landed on his cock. Half-hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Jungkook swallowed nervously, but you crawled on top of him, immediately licking a fat stripe down his entire length. You moaned with him, feeling the blood rushing to his cock, pulsing against your lips. You hadn’t had sex in a while, trying not to tempt Yoongi or aggravate his injury. His recovery was too important to not only you, but the nation and the world. So, you kept your need to yourself, but now Jungkook’s cock was right on front of you.

And there was nothing to stop you.

You pressed your lips against his balls, licking them all over, playing with them with your tongue. Jungkook groaned above you, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as you began to suck on them, bobbing your head up and down. He was panting your name breathlessly, helpless as you pulled your head back, his balls slowly slipping out from between your lips.

You kissed up his length, tongue swirling around the head before taking him in, all the way, softly but firmly. If there was anything Yoongi’s tongue technology taught you, it was how to apply his technique to giving head, much to his surprise. You were good at extrapolation. You pressed the head into the roof of your mouth, raking it all the way to the upper part of your throat and tightening. Jungkook gasped, eyelids fluttering as your tongue assaulted the bottom of his cock, from the bottom of the head to the base.

You heard something between the lines of, “Holy fuck”, “What the hell”, and “Oh my fucking God.”

You retreated for a second, wrapped your tongue all the way around the head and teased the thin skin right where the head and length connected, repeatedly rubbing your lips over it before going all the way down again.

Now Jungkook was absolutely incomprehensible as you began to suck him off, fast and tight, lips soft compared to the vacuum of your mouth. Was it unfair? Yes, it was, giving him soft and hard, rough and wet, scraping the head against the back of your throat and choking it with your muscles. Jungkook was whimpering and cursing, his thighs flexing under you, tasting so fucking good that you were dripping between your own thighs.

You didn’t stop.

Faster and faster, holding his hips down, watching Jungkook unravel under you, hands in his long hair and slamming his head back into the pillows, covering his mouth as he screamed your name into his palm. You felt his cock spurt his cum into the back of your throat, your muscles constricting as you drank him up, your moans added vibration along his length.

The first orgasm was always the most and tasted the best. So much, coating the entire inside of your mouth, your tongue swiping around his cock to collect it all. You lapped it all up, encouraging his cock to get hard again. Smirking as you succeeded, popping your mouth off gently.

“What position do you want me in, Jungkook?” you murmured, throat a little hoarse, taking the condom and opening it, rolling it onto his cock.

He moved his palm from his mouth, panting hard, hair all over his face. His intense brown eyes locked with yours and you knew the dynamic was switched.

“On your back. Want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

You could relent, rolling onto your back, removing your soaked panties, chest heaving in anticipation as Jungkook got up, towering over you. His hands gripped your hips, adjusting you to the correct angle. You could play the other part, with one small caveat. His eyes found yours, glaring at you.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook thrust into you, hard, and you kept the smirk on your face as he forcefully stretched you out, pushing your limits.

“Hurts?” he taunted.

You licked your lips. “It’s not good unless it hurts.”

The slight irritation that flashed in his eyes spurred you on. You tightened around his cock, exhaling with a hiss. Fitting him to you, bringing out the dominance in him. Jungkook gritted his teeth and slammed his hips into yours. You had the audacity to chuckle.

“Did you really want me that bad, Jungkook?” you teased. “Or were they only pretty words? Are you a tiger or just a cute little bunny?”

Jungkook snarled low in his chest.

Then he began to fuck you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders and pressing down, smacking your ass with his hips. The position made you tighter, gravity making him pound you harder, forcing you to feel all of him as drove his rock-hard cock into you. Your hands flew up, one pressed against the headboard, the other clutching a pillow for dear life, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness and harshness.

“A-ah, fuck, yes,” you gasped. “So fucking good…”

Jungkook brought his face close to yours, hitting you deeper and just as hard. “Where’s your smirk now? Can’t give me one when you’re being punished by this cock?”

Your heart jerked in your chest at his dirty words, becoming even wetter with the dangerous edge to his voice.

“Listen to you, fucking dripping down my thighs with how wet you are for me,” Jungkook hissed, inhaling sharply as you throbbed hard around him. He groaned, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t help myself, I just have to fuck you like an animal.”

You snickered dryly, jerking your hips up to meet his. Not saying anything, letting your pussy do the talking because you were so close to orgasm that you roughly massaged his entire length, throwing your head back and moaning as you came around him. The squelching sounds between your connected hips got louder, drenching the air with the scent of sex and lust.

Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip, grimacing. “Fucking unfair how good you feel,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, ramming his hips into you, muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. “Can’t even last, fuck.”

He crashed his hips into yours and growled your name in his throat, cock smacking against your walls as he came, swelling the condom full. You whimpered in ecstasy, back arching, clenching around his cock.

“Yes, Jungkook, oh, yeeees…”

It wasn’t enough.

Neither of you had had enough.

Jungkook gripped the end of the condom and pulled out, hissing at the sensitivity as he took it off. You tossed him a spare towel from the nightstand drawer and he cleaned himself, gasping.

“Hands and knees.”

You rolled over, flinging the box of condoms at him, and he caught it, dark eyes glinting.

“Spread that pussy for me.”

You reached back and planted your hands on each ass cheek pulling your wet slit open. Jungkook hissed and you could hear skin on skin of him jacking himself off to get hard again. An idea popped into your head.

You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing your hole for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so damn sexy it’s illegal.”

You heard him get onto his knees. The sound of a condom being ripped open. His groan as he fitted the condom over his aching cock. His strong hands gripped your hips, the head rubbing against your entrance.

“Don’t know how long I can last,” he murmured. “I’m just going to go as hard and as fast as I can.”

“Do it, Jungkook,” you panted. “Make me feel you for days.”

He whimpered at your words and sank into you. Both of you moaning, your hands clutching the sheets, his fingertips bruising your skin, imprints of lust. Jungkook was pure, glorious power that threatened to overtake you, his cock throbbing and digging into your walls as he fucked you hard, muscular thighs slapping into yours. The poor bed could barely take it, but neither of you noticed, lost in the feeling of being filled and doing the filling.

His hand came down on your ass, a sharp, harsh sound that echoed off the walls and made your pussy clench. It barely hurt. You had felt worse before.

“You like that?” he panted.

“Fuck yes I do,” you gasped hotly. “Spank my ass, Jungkook.”

He did, thrusting into you and slapping you repeatedly, making your ass jiggle. You squeezed him each time, now rolling your hips back into him, arching your back as you came with a satisfied sigh. Your skin stung, your pussy was pulsating with abuse, and Jungkook’s cock hit all your deepest spots.

“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so fucking good at fucking me,” you breathed, feeling him wind you up again.

He couldn’t even reply, only loudly moaning through the convulsions of your pussy radiating up and down his length. Good thing the walls were pretty soundproof, because it was a goddamn porno in the bedroom at the moment. It was obscenely lewd with the wet slapping of his hips into yours.

“So close, so close, squeeze me, fuck, choke my damn dick,” Jungkook rambled in between breaths, hissing as you did as you were told, gripping him every time he slammed into you. He came with a half-scream, half-moan of your name, whining at the sensitivity as you pulsed around him, leaking down his thighs and yours. It smelled so strongly of sex that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to clean this up before Yoongi came home.

Your phone buzzed loudly on the bed.

You grunted, clawing for it as Jungkook remained inside you, softening but refusing to leave your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your back.

You checked your messages. From Yoongi.

Your gift needs to get his ass to practice before he gets yelled at.

“Jungkook, you’re gonna be late.”

He groaned in annoyance, squeezing you tighter. Another message popped up.

Tell him there’s plenty of time before I fully recover. If he works hard and does a good job, maybe after I recover too.

You poked Jungkook. He lifted his head, pouting, eyes changing to excitement when he read the message.

-

part ii “You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

--

masterpost

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[spunky-89]

Derek Hale x Reader - Mate = Mom - Prologue

A/N: So full disclosure, when I wrote this I was still binging the series and was only in season 3. However, I had read so much fanfiction I felt like I knew pretty much everything. I have since nearly finished (I can’t make it through 6b, I just can’t) And I had had this idea rolling around in my brain since I started the show so here we are. It has been edited to fit my new knowledge about the show but lemme just say this is a happy ending AU where no one really dies and people don’t have to go through as much heartbreak. Depending on the response to this I’ll probably make it a series as I have so many ideas for this concept but we’ll see how it goes :D

Warnings: None, just fluff

WC:1.2k

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

Once things had finally calmed down again after everything with Jackson and the Kanima issue, Derek knew he needed to stop avoiding his phone which was blaring every few hours. He just knew that it wouldn't go well, and ignoring reality was easier than accepting it. So he continued to ignore his phone. 

This went on for a week.

Derek had invited all the wolves to his loft, meaning Isaac, Scott, Boyd, and Erica. And of course, Stiles had to tag along. He wanted to try and train the wolves to enhance fighting skills and their control. Scott was reluctant to join in, not wanting to be in Derek's pack, but he knew he needed to better understand and control his abilities. 

So far they were doing okay, but they still had a ways to go before they were ready to take on their normal teenage lives. He had just given them a break, he only did it because they were complaining too much for him to make them keep fighting. The younger wolves collapsed on the floor panting and bleeding a bit. Stiles went around and gave water to them all as he was chattering away.

“You know there are better ways to train than trying to kill them. I mean are you like a navy seal dropout, because I don’t even think they have this rigorous training…” he kept talking, but Derek stopped listening. He was focused on something else entirely. He could smell something, something he shouldn’t have been able to smell.

He slowly moved towards the door, perking his ears up to try and listen for any movement outside the door. Low and behold he could hear that click-clack of high-heels strutting down the hallway. He looked back at the pack in panic before schooling his features and muttering an ‘I’ll be back’ before he headed for the door.

“Does that mean we’re done for the day?” Erica called to him. He didn’t make a move like he’d heard her and just slipped out the heavy iron door. 

Once he had shut the door he looked down the hall and there you were. Seeing him step out of the loft had you freezing. Your face flickering between joy (and relief) and anger. Derek paused to see what you would do, and when you made no movement, he started to head towards you with long strides. As much as he was fearful of your reaction to his disappearance, he had missed you terribly. So his pace quickened. This seemed to snap you out of your daze and had you running as fast as you could towards him. You met in the middle as you jumped into his arms as he held you tight, lifting you off the ground for a moment before placing you back down. He didn’t release his hold on you though. He rested his forehead against yours as you leaned into him.

“I want to hate you and be mad, I really do. But gosh I’ve missed you too much to care.” You spoke softly. He let a little smile take over his face before he pulled you in for a long-overdue kiss. You melted into it immediately. You spent the next few minutes just holding each other in the hallway, stealing kisses every now and again, smiling dumbly at each other. 

“God I’ve missed you,” Derek mumbled against your lips.

“Is that why you didn’t answer my calls or texts?” You inquired, a hint of bitterness in your tone. You pulled away, but only slightly, just so you could fully see his face. He looked guilty. 

“I’m sorry, things have just been crazy here and I didn’t want you involved in this business.” He explained.

“So that means you can’t send a simple text saying ‘hey I’m okay, gonna be longer than I thought, love you’.” you snapped, your anger and hurt coming back full force. He sighed and looked down.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I guess I just wanted to keep you as far from this world as possible. And that meant far from me.” 

“What happened to ‘in this together’, huh? Did those words actually mean anything to you or was it just to make me comfortable enough to run the first chance you got?” 

He was shocked at your words. And then he realized why you were so mad. You weren’t mad at him, you were mad at yourself. Your insecurities had taken hold of you and he wasn’t there to help fight them off. Sure, he wasn’t always great with words, but somehow you found comfort in him. And then he had left.

He pulled you back into his chest, and even though you resisted slightly, in the end, you succumbed to his embrace. 

“I don’t know what your brain is telling you but I can promise you, it’s wrong. I only left because I was worried about my sister. It had nothing to do with you or us.” He promised. He felt you sag, the anger dissipating. 

“Just promise me you won’t do that again. I can’t have you just disappear on me.” You begged.

“I promise, no more leaving.” 

“Good,” You mumbled as you brought his lips back to yours. It was barely a few moments before the sound of a heavy door creaking open could be heard, even by your human ears.

Derek sighed as he could hear the young wolves behind him trying to stealthily exit the loft to see what the commotion in the hallway was about. He could hear them whisper arguing about being quieter. 

“Do I wanna know?” You asked, looking up at him and seeing his face pinched in mild exasperation. 

“There’s a reason I stuck around,” He said, still keeping his back to the loft and using his body to subtly shield yours from view. 

“Okaaay,” 

“Long story short, there’s a bunch of teenage werewolves trying to eavesdrop and are failing terribly by talking way too loud.” His voice raised at the end so that he was pretty much shouting down the hall. Even you could hear the “oh shit” that was let out as the wolves tried to scramble back inside the loft. You just laughed. Between these kids getting caught and Derek’s long-suffering look, you couldn’t help it. Derek desperately tried to keep a straight face muttering “It’s not funny, they’re a pain in my ass.” But the more you laughed, the harder it was to keep a smile from creeping onto his face. 

“Com’on grumpy pants, let’s meet these wolves that are somehow more important than me.” You teased as you took his hand and started walking towards the door you saw him come out of. He groaned and fell into step with you.

“That’s not what that was and you know it.” He grumbled. 

You giggled and said, “I know, but you know I love teasing you.” He just mumbled something under his breath and you smiled, reaching over to peck his cheek. 

You quickly reached the large iron door and Derek gave you a look before pulling it open and saying, “(Y/N), meet the pack.”

[the-cult-of-russo]

gotta know how u think billy would be as a dad with his kids :D

I had so many requests for Dad!Billy headcanons 😭

I hope you're ready for this chaotic ramble.

Please remember this is my Billy I'm writing

-

You know those parents who take like a million pictures of their kid and show them to everyone? The kind that talks about their kid nonstop to anyone who'll listen? Their family, friends, the poor random old lady at the store that just wants to buy some damn milk.

That's Billy.

He's such an unbelievably proud parent, his pride for his kids knows no bounds. It doesn't even need to be some kind of milestone worth celebrating, everything his kid does makes him proud. You better believe when his baby has an explosive crap and ruins their clothes, he's boasting about it the next day to Frank and the guys at Anvil.

-

He's incredibly protective. Murder is a possibility if his kids in danger. He wants nothing more than to keep his kids safe. If they're being bullied, it takes all of his willpower to stop himself from kicking the kids ass for doing that to his kid. He's not above picking a fight with the bullies dad though if they don't get their little shit head in check and also making it known to the principle that this shit won't fly with him.

~

"Mr Russo, I don't think you understand how serious this is. Your son broke a kids nose," the principle mutters with a glare.

Billy tilts his head, regarding the teacher with those unsettling eyes that has the old man squirming in his seat.

"You’re damn right he did," Billy replies seriously, a proud tone to his voice. His dark eyes cut to his left where his son is, practically his double. As Billy smirks, unable to help himself, his son wears the same one although he's lowering his head to hide his amusement.

"We don't tolerate that behaviour here, Mr Russo," the principle huffs. Billy's eyes harden then as his eyes narrow, sitting forward in his chair just the right amount to be imposing. The second the man leans back he knows it worked.

"You know what I don't tolerate? My kid bein' bullied. You assholes won't do shit to stop it, so I say let the little fucker get a taste of his own medicine. Serves him right for messin' with a Russo," he smirks wickedly.

~

He teaches them self defence, wanting them to be able to look after themselves if it ever came down to it. Naturally, for their 16th birthday, they're gifted with a big ass knife.

-

Billy as a dad is so stupidly soft.

We all remember the scene from the show, right? Where he's in the hospital with his mom and he says;

"Maybe you did me a solid, you know? I mean, the way I see it, you want weak kids, give 'em everything. But if you... if you want 'em strong... treat 'em hard."

When he has a kid of his own he realises just what utter garbage this is. The idea of all the shit he's been through making him into the tough son of a bitch he is today is born from trauma that he still hasn't dealt with. The way his brain tries to rationalise what he went though. To make it make sense instead of it being so goddamn senseless.

But if he's honest, more than he'd like to admit, he finds himself wondering just what his life would have been like if he grew up in a loving home. What it would be like to feel wanted and cared for. To rise to the top being helped and cheered on by others instead of clawing his way there with bloodied and dirty fingers, the weight of the world bearing down on him as he's beat down at every turn.

He never wants his kids to feel that way. Not even a fraction of how unloved and unwanted he felt. He does everything in his power to make sure they know just how much he cares about them. There's literally nothing he wouldn't do for his kids. They could turn up at home one day and confess to a murder and Billy wouldn't hesitate to ask where the body is so he can handle it for them.

-

Billy is ridiculously sentimental when it comes to his kids. Drawings go up on the fridge and when a new one takes its place, the old one goes into a box of many others that he can't seem to ever throw away. He has multiple pictures of his kids at his office, even some framed cute drawings they did for him. He's kept all the mementos from the pregnancy, birth and onwards. They're his little treasures.

-

Billy is super supportive of everything his kids do. He makes sure they get a good education but he never pushes them to do something they don't want to do. Despite the large college fund he's got for them, if they choose not to go to college, he doesn't pressure them. Instead, whatever hopes and dreams they have, he does everything in his power to support and help them. Whether that's moral and emotional support, money or even breaking a few jaws of people standing in their way.

-

Let's look a little bit at how he is throughout some of the ages of his kid.

Billy with a baby is a sight to behold. No one has ever seen Lieutenant William Russo so goddamn soft. Once he's got hold of his baby, you've got no chance of getting them back off him. You'd have to fight him. He adores holding his little one close, soaking them in. He's constantly holding them no matter what he's doing and baby carriers and wraps are a godsend to him. You'd heard about them from a friend and told Billy and you better believe by the time the baby's born that he's an expert on all things baby wearing. He's a perfectionist and carrying a baby wrong can be dangerous. He makes sure he knows how to do it right.

Just as he has little affectionate touches for you, he has the same for his baby. His large hand stroking their tiny head and little hair. His finger stroking their chubby little cheek. He's a tactile person and touch is grounding for him. It soothes him to do so with his baby and reassures him they're really there and that they're okay.

He's super attentive. Of course he works a lot but as soon as he becomes a dad, he doesn't stay late anymore and makes sure to have days off. The second he comes home, he's making a beeline for his baby, scooping them up with a grin. He loves to read to them, something that continues as they grow up. His weekends used to be restful or if he was feeling like a masochist, he'd work from home. But now weekends are his time to shine. By the time you wake up on a Saturday morning, he's already up with the baby, making you breakfast as he's got the baby attached to him via baby carrier.

As his baby grows into a toddler, each milestone makes him tearful and full of pride. He kisses any booboos that happen and he's constantly playing with his child. He has a pretty silly side to him that most don't get to see. Making his kid laugh and smile brings him the greatest joy.

He loves taking his toddler to the office with him. Everyone dotes on his kid and treats them like royalty.

When they turn into a small child, he watches with a proud smile and amusement as his kid wants to fight with his men, watching them 'beat' the shit out of them. The guys at Anvil are more than happy to very dramatically go down, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when the tiny Russo grins smugly at their 'win'.

Their first day at school and Billy's a mess. It's such a turning point and he doesn't know how to deal with how fast their growing up. But every achievement at school, even minor ones, and he's showering them with praise.

He encourages them to work hard and as soft as he might be, he is still the boss. He makes sure they do their homework and don't fall behind on their studies.

One thing Billy loves is teaching his kids stuff. Whether that's mundane stuff to help with school or teaching them shit he knows like survivalist things, because you can never be too prepared, right? He loves helping them with school projects and answering any questions they might have about one of the many things he's knowledgeable about.

When his kids moves onto those hard teenage years, the ones where everything feels so dramatic and world ending, he's a little tougher when it calls for it. Billy is no novice to rebellion, he has a rebellious streak of his own and marches to the beat of his own drum half the time. He respects that. What he doesn't respect or tolerate is behaviour that's going to fuck his kid over in the long run or self sabotage. He will be firm and a hard ass if he needs to be to keep his kids on a path where they don't get hurt or ruin their life.

Billy has a zero tolerance policy on drugs. After the shit with his mother, he won't budge on this. If he finds out his kid is dabbling in drugs, they're grounded until they're old enough to move out.

-

No matter what age his kids are, Billy loves them immensely. He wants to be the father he wished he'd had growing up and he pours all of his anguish and pain from his upbringing into it. Channeling it into the purest form of love for his kids. To break the curse that had hold of him. He won't perpetuate the cycle.

Being a father brings him a sense of completeness and peace he didn't think was possible for him to achieve. It fills the void that's been eating away at his soul from his lack of love as a child and he loves every second of being a parent. Even the hard moments.

-

Bonus:

The Russo's and the Castle's go on monthly camping trips together. Billy loves the outdoors, the mild survivalist feelings he gets from it without the real danger. He loves taking his kids there, teaching them everything. In his role as dad and uncle, he sits around the camp fire at night, the light of the flames dancing along his face as he very theatrically tells the kids a spooky story.

You and his kids are his immediate family but the Castle's are his family too. So he really loves it when you all get to spend time together like that.

[knifewieldingenby]

You shine, a Jaskel fic

This prompt comes from the lovely @kueble who always helps me when I’m dealing with writers block, thank you dear friend.

Summary: Jaskier keeps giving Eskel jewelry and he can’t fathom who someone like Jaskier would be courting him.

Content: Jaskel, courting jewelry, insecure Eskel, very mild mentions of sex (but nothing explicit), T

*written and pasted from my phone, I apologize if the format ends up being weird*

———

“What a performance!” Jaskier flopped down on his bed and sighed deeply. Eskel sat across from him on his own bed and smiled.

“You certainly had them eating out of your hands,” he said as he worked his armor off piece by piece. Normally he’d go up to the room first and take it off, but he wanted to see Jaskier perform tonight. The bard had been bursting with energy all day and Eskel knew it was going to be a good one. Besides, he could never resist the beauty that was Jaskier performing for a crowd. His face lit up, fire in his eyes, and every so often he threw a smile Eskel’s way that somehow felt different than the smile he reserved for his audience. It felt personal. Eskel wasn’t stupid enough to think it meant anything, but he was allowed to dream, even if it never came true.

“Easy crowd to please, I suppose.”

“Since when are you modest?”

Jaskier laughed and pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’re right, it was all me.”

Eskel rolled his eyes fondly. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Jaskier got up and crossed the room, fiddled with his pack a bit before coming to sit next to him.

“I got you a gift.”

Eskel cocked an eyebrow. “A gift?”

“Mm-hmm.” He opened his palm and Eskel’s eyes widened. It was a ring, a simple gold band that glistened in the dim candle-lit room. He was too shocked to respond. A gift was one thing, but this...jewelry was different. Maybe in another life it would mean something different, but in this lifetime no one gave jewelry unless they were courting someone, and that just couldn’t be right.

“You’re giving me a ring?”

“Yup!” He smiled brightly. Eskel didn’t know what to say. Surely Jaskier couldn’t mean...he couldn’t want Eskel. But it would be rude to turn it down and Eskel didn’t want to be that person. He mumbled out a thank you and hastily shoved the ring in his pocket. He caught a glimpse of something shift in Jaskier’s face.

“You don’t want it,” Jaskier said.

“What? No, of course I - I just thought-“

“Give it to me.”

Eskel cringed. This was the moment he’d feared, the moment Jaskier realized that he didn’t actually want to court Eskel. He pulled the ring back out and dropped it in Jaskier’s outstretched hand. To his surprise, Jaskier took his hand in his own. He carefully slid the ring on Eskel’s index finger and then squeezed his hand gently.

“I want you to have it,” Jaskier said softly, their eyes meeting, and Eskel couldn’t look away from that intense gaze. He swallowed through his tight throat and nodded.

Jaskier tilted his head. “Unless of course, you really don’t want it.”

“I want it,” Eskel said far too quickly, and he tried to ignore the way his cheeks burned from the admission. Jaskier smiled and squeezed his hand again.

They retired to their beds not long afterward, and Jaskier, as always, fell asleep quickly. Eskel on the other hand tossed and turned restlessly. He twisted the ring over and over, tracing the gold band with his finger, and wondered how Jaskier knew it would fit. It was true that he would occasionally take Eskel’s hand when they were settled at camp, play with his fingers lightly, but that was...just Jaskier. It was how he was with everyone he was close to.

...Right?

Eskel closed his eyes and attempted to quiet his mind. This was a one off thing, he was sure. Jaskier would quickly realize that Eskel was not the kind of man he wanted to be with, not safe enough, not handsome enough, and move on. Once the novelty of courting a Witcher wore off he would be off courting beautiful maidens and attractive blacksmiths like he did before Eskel showed up. That thought hurt more than he cared to admit to himself, but it was the truth.

With that in mind he settled and fell into a fitful slumber.

-

Two weeks went by and Jaskier didn’t say anything about the ring, though Eskel never took it off. He was waiting for the day when Jaskier asked him to take it off. The bard’s behavior hadn’t changed much. Sure, maybe it was true that he winked and threw smiles at Eskel more often during his performances than he had before, and maybe he’d bought Eskel sweet treats from the market without prompting, and maybe he’d played his favorite song just for him, and maybe…

He still didn’t say anything about the jewelry and Eskel wasn’t going to bring it up, for fear of reminding Jaskier what he’d done and making him regret it.

On a cool early Autumn evening they were sitting around camp after dinner, Jaskier strumming his lute idly while Eskel organized his potions, when Jaskier suddenly jumped up and rushed to his pack. He came back with something in his hands and knelt next to Eskel.

“Got you something,” he said. Eskel’s eyebrows raised as Jaskier opened his hands and revealed a long gold chain with a buttercup pendant. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I know it’s a little more delicate than Witchers typically prefer, but-“

“I’ll wear it.” Eskel pulled what little hair he had along his neck away and dipped his head slightly. He hoped Jaskier would get the message.

He heard a soft chuckle and moments later felt the warmth of Jaskier’s hands ghosting his neck as the bard fastened the chain around him. He raised his head but his eyes were on the chain. The gold brought out warm tones in his skin.

“I- thank you.”

“Thank you for wearing it. If you decide you don’t want...this, you can take it off. I won’t- I’ll understand.”

“What is this exactly?” Eskel asked before his brain could stop him.

“What do you want it to be?”

And there was that intense look in Jaskier’s eyes again, a look that warmed Eskel just as much as it confused him. He knew what it meant when other people gave each other jewelry out of the blue but this was different. Nobody in their right mind courted a Witcher. Well, apart from other Witchers. He thought briefly of Lambert, who had been courted by a Cat, pretending he hated it but getting defensive if anyone so much as suggested he take the jewelry off. They all knew he secretly loved it.

“I want what I can’t have.” Perhaps that was a bit too honest, too vulnerable, but he didn’t care. Jaskier was so close. With their faces mere inches apart at this point he could feel the pull to lean forward, press their lips together, get lost in the softness that was the bard.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to his lips and back as if he was thinking the same thing. “If you want me, dear, I’m yours.”

“But-“

“No buts. I’m yours.”

“Can I…” His eyes traveled to the bard’s lips again, and his heart softened at the gentle smile he received in response.

“Yes.”

He slowly reached up and took Jaskier’s face between his hands, hesitating as if giving him a chance to change his mind. But Jaskier didn’t; he made the first move, leaning forward and capturing Eskel’s lips in the softest of kisses. It didn’t last long but when they parted Eskel felt light-headed and Jaskier was smiling dreamily at him.

“Um…” Eskel shifted awkwardly and pointed to their bedrolls. “We should…”

“Do that again?” Jaskier said hopefully. His eyes were hungry and Eskel wanted to drown in them, memorize that look forever. This time he moved, and when they kissed again it wasn’t soft - it was fierce and consuming, and definitely something Eskel could get used to.

-

A week later they lay in bed, sheets tangled around their sweaty bodies, limbs intertwined. Jaskier was on his back and Eskel was draped half over him, head leaning on his shoulder. He traced Jaskier’s stomach with his fingers and noted how pretty the gold from his rings looked against Jaskier’s skin. Rings, plural, because Jaskier had given him another one earlier that night. It had an inscription in Elder that meant beloved, and Eskel had to bite back uncharacteristic tears when he first saw it.

“Why gold?”

“Hmm?” Jaskier’s voice was soft and still somewhat dazed from their love making.

“You always get me gold jewelry. Why is that?”

A silence stretched out between them. Jaskier reached down and intertwined their fingers. “Because silver is for monsters, right?”

Eskel startled at that, his throat constricting, and he buried his face in Jaskier’s neck so that the man couldn’t see the way his eyes watered. He’d always thought of himself as a monster, much as he wouldn’t admit it to the other Witchers. He thought himself monstrous in a way he would never see his brothers. But here was Jaskier, saying the exact opposite. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled into Jaskier’s neck.

“I know. But I wanted to.” He placed a kiss on Eskel’s forehead.

Eskel never thought he’d get this, never thought he deserved it. But maybe, just maybe, he did

——————

This is my first time writing Jaskel so please let me know how I did! Thank you for reading! :D

[tickly-trashcan]

Surprise! {XiaoVen}

A/N: SHEESH i like speedwrote this during school and a bit afterwards LMAO uhh i completely spaced on his birthday until yesterday but i was swamped (last week of school homework lmao) so I had to write it today so it’s kinda cruddy but oh well it’s my kins birthday so i had to do SOMETHING. Hope y’all enjoy! :D

Summary: Venti and Xiao are hanging out at Windrise during Venti’s birthday, and when Venti figures out that Xiao has a surprise for him, how will he get it out of him?

Word Count: 1.2k (under the cut)

“Hey, Xiao~! You know what today is right?”

“Wednesday.”

Venti pouted, but he knew that Xiao actually knew what today was. It was Venti’s birthday, and they were currently spending some time together just outside of Mondstadt at Windrise, where Xiao was collecting crystalflies.

As he collected them he handed them to Venti, and soon his hands were full of little crystal cores. He chuckled, looking at Xiao who was still chasing after one more as Venti sat down at the tree's roots. 

Xiao came back over, last crystalfly in hand as he sat down next to Venti, placing it in the pile that Venti currently held. 

“I always knew you liked crystalflies, but isn’t this a bit excessive?”

Xiao turned his head, biting his lip in mild embarrassment as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I think they’re pretty,” He said softly, and Venti chuckled, setting the crystal cores down and curling up next to Xiao.

“Not nearly as pretty as you, Xiao~”

Xiao playfully shoved Venti off of him with a whine as Venti laughed, immediately clinging back onto Xiao as he whined, cooing at Xiao.

“Xiaooo you can’t be mean to me today! It’s my birthday!”

Xiao pouted and Venti laughed again, wrapping his arms around Xiao’s waist and looking up at him expectantly, making Xiao raise his eyebrow.

“So… what did you get me?”

Xiao immediately looked away from Venti, who grinned deviously as Xiao spoke.

“I… got you some crystalflies. Surely you enjoyed them?”

Venti clicked his tongue, glancing back at the pile of crystal cores that Xiao had collected for him earlier, knowing it wasn’t his birthday gift. Venti yawned, pressing his head into Xiao’s chest as he hummed.

“Xiao~ Are you suuure you don’t have something else~?”

Xiao opened his mouth to speak, but shut it shortly after. Venti chuckled and Xiao started again, speaking this time.

“If you want we can always go to Mondstadt and get something from the tavern… but I don’t have anything planned,” Xiao lied, and Venti hummed, pulling his hand away from Xiao’s waist and placing it on his hip to support himself as he sat up. Xiao flinched, and Venti stopped for a moment before an idea popped into his head and a grin crept up his face.

“Xiao…”

Xiao looked at Venti with wide eyes, knowing immediately what he was up to. He shook his head, and Venti only held Xiao tighter, making sure he wouldn’t be able to wiggle away.

“What do you have planned, dear?”

“I already told you, it’s just the crystalflies, Venti-”

A sharp inhale came from Xiao when Venti squeezed his hip, grinning as Xiao squirmed, giggling softly in anticipation as Venti pinched up his sides to his lower ribs.

“Well if you won’t tell me,” Venti cooed, lightly poking Xiao’s lower ribs as he snickered, trying to control himself as Venti grinned. “I’ll just have to tickle it out of you!”

“Venti, no-!”

Xiao could barely protest when Venti threw himself on him, immediately wiggling his fingers on his ribs, digging in and prodding in a way that he knew would easily draw laughter out from Xiao.

Xiao’s peals of laughter were immediate as he collapsed against the tree’s roots, flailing his arms in an attempt to shove Venti off of him, squirming as he giggled frantically.

“Vehehenti! Wahahahait, not thahahat!”

“Not what? What’s wrong, can you tell me?”

“It t-tihihickles!” Xiao whined and Venti rolled his eyes fondly.

“That’s the point, Xiao,” He chuckled, climbing up his ribs until he nestled his hands under Xiao’s arms, curling his fingers in a way that made Xiao positively squeal as he threw his head back, clamping his arms down in an attempt to nullify the sensations, only trapping Venti’s hands as he clicked his tongue.

“Xiao-Xiao, now I’m stuck!”

“Dohohohon’t call me thahat!” Xiao laughed, squirming frantically as Venti puffed his cheeks, digging his fingers deeper into the hollow of Xiao’s underarm, making him shriek.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want! And I want to know what kind of present you have for me!”

“I dohohohon’t!” Xiao wailed, giggling hysterically as Venti sighed, pulling his hands out of Xiao’s underarms and began to lightly trace circles on his tummy, making Xiao jerk before grabbing onto Venti’s wrists, who grinned.

“Venti, dohon’t you dare-”

“Tell me and I might not. But I’m sure you wouldn’t like if I stopped, now would you?”

Xiao flushed red and shoved Venti, making the bard laugh as he clung to Xiao, pinching up the sides of his tummy as Xiao shrieked, dissolving into frantic laughter as he squirmed, kicking his legs behind Venti. Venti chuckled along with Xiao, scratching his lower tummy as Xiao threw his head back, whining.

“Vehehehentiii!”

“Yes, Xiao?”

“Stahahap!”

Venti hummed and shook his head, grinning as he dug into Xiao’s tummy, ditching the light tickles as Xiao squealed, squeezing his eyes shut as he cackled, trying to wiggle away from the evil birthday boy, but to no avail.

“Alrihihight! Vehehenti, no mohohore!”

“Are you gonna tell me what my gift is?!” Venti exclaimed excitedly, and Xiao nodded quickly, overwhelmed by the tickly sensations that were shooting on his every nerve as Venti danced his fingers across his tummy.

The sensations stopped after a few moments, Venti clearly wanting to get in a few extra tickles before halting. Xiao caught his breath for a few minutes, a few stray giggles still escaping his lips as Venti sat on his lap, fidgeting impatiently.

“I-It’s in Mondstadt,” Xiao said, still catching his breath a little bit as Venti jumped up excitedly, much like a little kid as Xiao followed him, heading through the gates of Mondstadt, Xiao staying close to Venti in hopes of avoiding stares from the locals.

They walked into Angel’s Share when Xiao pointed it out, and Venti was greeted with a sudden toss of confetti and a cheer.

“Happy Birthday Venti!”

Venti looked around excitedly as he was greeted by Aether, Lumine, Jean, and Diluc, all standing around Lumine, who held out an apple pie, just for Venti.

Venti turned to Xiao and pointed at him.

“You planned all this for me??”

“I-I had a bit of help from Aether and Lumine…” Xiao said sheepishly, not being familiar with all of Venti’s friends, that it was helpful when Aether and Lumine had offered to help. Venti smiled, throwing his arms around Xiao.

“I’ll get you again later for keeping this from me for so long, my dear Xiao~” He whispered, making Xiao go red and sputter.

“I needed to keep you busy while they set up though,” He protested, but Venti only chuckled as Xiao grumbled, Aether walking over and asking if he had a fever because of how red he was, only further embarrassing him.

“Make a wish, Venti!” Lumine said happily, holding the apple pie up to Venti, a single candle burning in the center of it. Venti blew it out and his friends clapped, Jean cutting into the pie and putting servings out for everyone, giving an extra big slice to Venti, who cheered.

Venti looked back at Xiao, who sat in the corner, silently eating his pie. Venti pulled him to the center of the room happily (also slightly drunk) and made Xiao sing with him as he strummed his lyre, Xiao more mumbling as Venti hollered. Lumine and Aether rolled their eyes as Jean and Diluc clapped supportively despite the performance being far from good. It didn’t matter though, because Venti was having fun, and he was happy to have spent his birthday with all the people that he loved.

[confused-stars]

you know what i want to see? i want to see class 1a shenanigans with an ouija board accidentally picking up ghostboro. They chat with him via ouija board for like a week before Aizawa gets wind of what they're doing and everything goes into chaos

It happens to Tokoyami and Shinsou first, because of course it does. Who else would be sitting in a dark, candle-lit room in the dead of night with a ouija board set up between them?

Who else would even own a ouija board but Tokoyami? It's a fancy one, too. Heavy wood and English letters burned into it, grooves painted gold. Tokoyami claimed that it was a failure the few times he's tried, but Shinsou insists that doing it with more than one person would be more likely to have results. Besides, they're both tired but can't sleep, and Dark Shadow is hyping them up.

So they end up sitting cross-legged on the carpet in Tokoyami's room, lights flickering, and they place their hands on the planchette.

"Uh... hi?" Hitoshi tries, feeling a bit dumb speaking into the air like that.

There's no response.

Tokoyami gives him an encouraging nod.

"Hey, if there's anyone here, we'd love to... have a chat?" Hitoshi feels dumber with every word. He shifts.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Tokoyami sighs, and Dark Shadow looks dejected.

Then, their hands are jerked so violently across the board that Hitoshi loses grip with one hand. He stares at the letters the ghost (?) chooses with wide eyes.

'N-I-C-E H-O-O-D-I-E'

Hitoshi is pretty sure he's dreaming or something. This is absurd.

Tokoyami's only wearing a t-shirt, so it's obvious who the ghost addressed.

"I... thanks?" Hitoshi tugs at his hoodie. It's purple and has a cat poking out of the front pocket. Cat ears adorn the hood - Midoriya and Ashido both delight in pulling it over Hitoshi's head just to coo at how adorable it is.

"Do you like cats?" Wow. He's talking to a dead person and this is what he asks. Nice going, Hitoshi.

The planchette all but flies to the 'YES' option, moving away and then coming back to it a couple times in what seems to be a sign of strong agreement or enthusiasm. Hitoshi stifles a laugh.

__

The ghost’s name is ‘Kumo’ and he uses he/him pronouns, and he is - was? - seventeen years old. He tells them that he used to be a student here, and that he’s been haunting the school for a few years now. Both boys agree that it would be a bad idea to ask him about the circumstances of his death, because that seems insensitive.

They end up just... chatting a little. About cats and heroes, and Kumo tries to give them some well-meaning fighting tips, but it’s hard for him to say anything lengthy with having to spell it all out. Tokoyami offers that he’ll look into easier means of communicating with ghosts, and Kumo seems immensely grateful.

It has to be lonely, on the other side, Hitoshi thinks. There can’t be that many ghosts haunting UA, after all.

__

The next one they involve is Midoriya, because he approaches Hitoshi about how glad he is he’s making friends in the class, and asks him about what hanging out with Tokoyami is like. Before he can stop himself, Hitoshi has already pulled him into this mess. And it’s good he did, because Midoriya is incredibly clever, and they spend hours in Tokoyami’s room - the darkness of it still seems the most appropriate for this - with a whole stack of fresh notebooks, and their resident ghost patiently answering any question they ask him. Well, most of them anyway. When Midoriya does bring up how he died, he just gives them a ‘NO’ and nothing else. Hitoshi glares at Midoriya, who mumbles an apology and moves on to another question.

__

Since the last time the class thought the dorms were haunted went less than ideal, apparently, they decide to take telling others about Kumo slow. Hitoshi isn’t sure how he feels about not telling Aizawa-sensei yet, but... well, Kumo is harmless. He’s just so happy to be finally able to talk to someone. What if the teachers decide to somehow get rid of him? Will he be all alone, then? Can ghosts even be chased away? With... an exorcism or something? When Hitoshi carefully asks, Tokoyami snorts and says something it ‘depending on the spirit in question.’ That obviously creates more questions than answers, but Hitoshi has learned to accept that. They tell Shoji, who demands proof, but is on board surprisingly quickly once they give it to him. Midoriya pulls Todoroki into this, and somehow gets Hitoshi to make another friend in the process - they’re both content sitting quietly aside while they let the others whirl around and talk a mile a minute. Well, mostly Midoriya. Uraraka, too, when she learns their secret. And then a very skeptical Iida. And then Kaminari, who is terrified at first, but who actually gets along swimmingly with Kumo. Really, before Hitoshi can blink, the entire class knows, and they’re now in possession of four separate ouija boards so that people don’t have to keep bothering Tokoyami to use his. There’s also a large poster made of several pieces of paper taped together that they’ve been writing different kanji and whole common words on so that Kumo might be able to communicate quicker.

That’s what the majority of the ‘Bakusquad’ are doing when Aizawa-sensei comes in, about a week after they made first contact.

“... do I want to know?” he asks, looking to Hitoshi who is perched on one of the couches with a fresh mug of coffee and has totally not been trying to give the others advice on how to structure the whole thing.

Hitoshi opens his mouth, then closes it again. Guilt makes his throat tighten a bit, and apparently that’s obvious enough that Aizawa-sensei squints at him. “Alright. What are you doing?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Kaminari pipes up from where he’s kneeling in the middle of the poster. “We wanted to see if people that Shinsou controls can still put together words if he tells them to! You know, since they can’t write properly and stuff.” That’s... not terrible, as far as lies go.

But this is Eraserhead, and it’s not working. Their teacher walks over to inspect the poster, brows drawn together. Hitoshi holds out his coffee, and Aizawa-sensei takes the mug without looking. “Not a bad attempt, but if you lie to me again, you’re getting detention,” he says, voice still mild enough that he doesn’t sound completely terrifying. Kaminari still looks like a deer in the headlights.

“... there’s a ghost,” Hitoshi says, earning him a disappointed look from Ashido, but a relieved one from Kirishima. Bakugou, who refused to participate but still hung around for some reason, scoffs.

“There’s... a ghost,” Aizawa-sensei repeats flatly. Hitoshi meets his eyes with a helpless shrug.

“It’s not like last time!” Ashido says quickly, “Really! We have proof. He’s been talking to us.”

Now their teacher looks a little alarmed. “... some invisible stranger’s been talking to you? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Ah, that’s what Hitoshi was worried about.

“But if he was just invisible, the cameras would’ve picked it up, right?” Kirishima asks, “They pick up on Hagakure. If Kumo was a living person, he would’ve been noticed.”

Aizawa-sensei blinks. His face betrays nothing, but Hitoshi knows him well enough to know something Kirishima said threw him off by a mile. “... what’s his name?”

Oh. If there was a dead student, he would know about that, wouldn’t he? Maybe Kumo was one of his? Hitoshi starts to speak, but then the lights flicker. They look to Kaminari instinctively, but he’s nowhere near any power outlet, and he’s not sparking, either. Then, the big, red marker Kirishima had been holding drops from his hand to the paper. They all watch, enraptured, as the marker slowly starts to move upright and glide across the paper.

‘Hi, Shouta,’ Kumo writes, ‘Don’t be mad at them, they were going to tell you eventually soon.’

Aizawa-sensei brings a hand up to clutch at his capture weapon. His eyes are a little too wide. “Prove it,” he says, and he’s clearly trying to keep his voice even, “Prove you’re the person you say you are.”

They all look from their teacher to the writing and back. Kumo’s never been able to hold onto any random object for this long. It must be taking a lot of effort. Or... a lot of emotion? Isn’t that how it works, for ghosts? ‘In front of the kids?’ Kumo asks, and something about it sounds a little cheeky, enough that Hitoshi nearly snorts.

Aizawa-sensei doesn’t find it funny. “Shirakumo.”

‘Fine.’ The marker pauses for a long moment. ‘We had our first kiss outside the arcade. We’d forced you to eat too much candy and you were nauseous, and I felt terrible about it so I kissed you to make you feel better. You still threw up afterwards.’

Oh. Oh, well. That’s... Hitoshi suddenly wants to look anywhere but at his mentor.

Aizawa-sensei makes an odd choking sort of noise, and when Hitoshi looks back up, he’s already halfway out the door. “Nobody move,” he instructs them without looking back, “I’m getting Mic.”