#actually i take back the its not that deep

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[pricegouge]

missionary

nik x f!reader

cw: dubcon/noncon implied, but nothing happens here. religious talk from someone who doesn't know dick about it but that's okay cause the characters here don't either. abrupt ending. MDNI

sunlight filters through your curtains as you wake, a diffused sort of warmth that catches on dust motes and cat hair, paints them cream colored and soft. you sigh and burrow deeper for a few more minutes, ignore your looming sunday chores in favor of sleeping in a bit longer. you can't remember the last time the sun had beat you out the gate, the winter seeming to stretch past into your memory as far back as your childhood.

perhaps that's a little dramatic, but it's been a minute, so you climb out of bed only long enough to draw the curtains and let the thin morning light stream through properly before flopping back onto the mattress, letting your dry, winter skin absorb as much needed vitamin d as you can get before your stomach starts complaining about needed sustenance - though with how late you'd managed to sleep in, you can't even blame it.

your head's a bit fuzzy as you make your way to the kitchen. with the latest cold snap on its way out, the sudden temperature change had left your sinuses reeling and you'd had to resort to a little cocktail of otc drugs just to have a chance at sleep the night before. small price to pay, considering the light drip of snow melt you can see falling from your vantage point at the window, eyes unfocused as you zone out, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating.

it takes a few sips of the strong brew to fully realize what that means, opening your door in near disbelief to find the storm door isn't glazed over in ice, no steam spilling through the frame as your house attempts to heat the whole universe. it's still chilly, for sure, but it's not enough to deter you, leaving the door open for a spot of fresh air as you get to work fixing yourself breakfast, singing to yourself cheerily as you move about, your mood brighter than it's been in months at the barest sliver of sunshine. it's nice enough out you don't even bother to put a pair of pants on, the slight sting of early spring air so unseasonable and unexpected that you can't but relish it.

cooking is a messy affair. carefree. you go all out, pancake batter dusting the counter and your legs alike, broad strokes painted with messy fingers as you wait for your bacon to fry. you're distracted as you cut up an orange, knife slipping dangerously close past your fingertips because you can't help wriggling to the catchy song you've got stuck in your head.

once, twice -

"shit," you hiss, turning to run the cut under some cold water before you even fully inspect it.

you're prodding at the seams of your skin when you hear him, voice a low lilt sounding from your left which chills you more than the mid-winter air stirring around your bare thighs, more than the frigid font you've got your hand stuck under. your eyes find him immediately, watching you from the other side of the screen door with a hungry look about him, like he can't discern between you and the veritable buffet being plated behind you.

"you alright there?" he asks, accented and deep. he's not looking at the hand you hold over the sink, thin blood seeping down into the webbing of your fingers. his eyes trail down over your hip instead, lingering on your belly where the counter cuts into you, protecting your lower half from his field of view.

"can i help you?" you snap, unsettled by the sudden presence of a strange man on your porch and by the feeling his gaze incites, spiders crawling all over you.

he doesn't even bother to look chastised, a slick grin spreading across his broad face as he sniffs pointedly, lip curling. he's hunched over a bit to fit in your frame, too tall to be seen otherwise. "yeah, actually." with an elbow braced above his head, he flicks a pamphlet against your storm window to draw your attention. blue and green, calming colors for a calming message, no doubt. he wouldn't be the first missionary to grace your doorway, but he would be the most implacable, with his leather jacket and thick gold chain. you're no theologist, but you doubt the latter day saints would approve of this level of materialism. "wanna talk about god, but uh - that cut seems more important at the moment." he nods at your hand.

"right," you grumble, attention returning to the steady trickle of blood from your knuckle. it doesn't seem too bad, would just need a good amount of pressure to stem it and a few days spent wrapped up. "well, i'm fine - on both accounts, thanks."

"sure you are," he drawls, smile almost as greasy as his hair.

"i meant… i'm okay. i don't need -."

"you sure? i could help -."

"very sure," you snap, ripping off a square of paper towel from the dispenser next to the sink and twisting it into a ribbon which you wrap tightly around your finger. "see? got it covered, thanks. have a good one," you harp, stepping closer to shut the door in his face.

a mistake. one step, two. your toes feel the draft from the door first before it inches up your legs like creeping fingers and you remember your outfit just in time to see his eyes already darting down, expectant as you round the corner of your counter.

how long had he been watching you?

stepping back behind your cover, you try to make your voice as assertive as possible, know you've failed miserably when it comes out a shaky whisper. "i would like you to leave, please."

the man's eyes track back up to yours even as his elbow falls from where it's braced overhead, his callused palm scratching over your door frame as he trails it lower, lower. hardware of the handle jangling under the weight when he drops his palm heavily over it. "you won't let your lord and savior into your life?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, the door squealing on its hinges as he pulls it open. it's not quite necessary for him to duck through the frame, but only just - taller than you by nearly a full foot and broadly built. you back away from him on instinct and curse yourself when you realize this brings you further away from the knife block. the pamphlet skitters across the counter closest to him, a careless toss which you can't help but track, eyes catching on the smudge of red at the bottom corner. it's only then that you realize he isn't carrying any sort of bag, no stockpile on his person to dispense the good word to all his neighbors. you're also fairly certain missionaries have something against working on sundays.

you play along with the ruse anyway, fawning in your fright. "please, sir, i -. i'd love to hear more about… about -."

he cuts you off with no more than a look, eyebrow arching nearly as high as his widow's peak as he tilts his head condescendingly, his boots leaving a messy trail behind him as he stalks closer. "yeah? you need jesus, milaya? need to atone?"

"i -!" you don't make it any further before he's gripping your hip, spinning you until you fold over your counter, the hard press of his fly biting against your nearly bare cunt.

"that's okay, samka, the lord will forgive you for being such a little slut, prancing around in here for all to see in these tiny fucking panties." he snaps the gusset against you to prove his point, hairy knuckle brushing against your vulva before disappearing again. his full weight crowds into you, unbearable as it is inescapable. you can feel his breath ghosting down your neck, the scratch of stubble behind your ear. and yet - he doesn't kiss you, plants a broad hand next to yours instead, doesn't even flinch when bacon grease pops and splashes over the knuckles. "you know," he drawls, almost conversationally, as if the tableau before him has finally registered. "most people offer us food after inviting us in."

the distraction is such a welcome prospect, you don't even bother correcting him. "would you like some?" you ask, voice high and reedy with a manic sort of hope. "i have plenty, i could -."

you're cut off with a yelp when he crouches, enough so that he can span his palms under the crease of your ass and lift you the final few inches necessary to fully hinge your torso over the counter. his knees pop as he falls to them, the anticipated soft press of lips finally landing, directly on your core. he doesn't seem to mind the barier still in place, drags his hot tongue over the cotton to press it into your hole, gets a taste of you and hums, diffused as it is.

"yeah, i think i'll stay for a bite."

divider by @/cafekitsune

[gilverrwrites]

nah because I just tought of something.

what if while AK!Jason accidentally hurts the reader while they're..yk,like accidentally cutting then with a pocket knife too deep than intended and while taking a look actually noticing all the other damage he had done,(wich was not to underestimate)and he randomly goes all soft,and it's just confusing af

Not sure if same anon, or if two great minds are thinking alike, but more below:

AK!Jason having one night where he realizes he’s maybe gone too far with you. You made some snarky remark and he retaliated by leaving you tied to a vibrator for a little too long and comes back to find Slade ate you out and is unloading on you, but the tears on your face makes him pull Slade off of you.

He’s used to a few small tears of frustration or reluctant pleasure from you, but these are resigned, exhausted tears and he thinks he maybe hears you plead for Slade to end it in a broken little whisper.

Jason doesn’t outright say he feels guilty, but he leads you to the bathroom and washes you off with a gentle touch he forgot he was capable of. Maybe he didn’t realize quite how many bite marks he left to scar on your body or has to reckon with the fact that nothing that happened to him is actually your fault. But he doesn’t let them linger.

He simply pulls one of his thin white undershirts over your head and actually spares you a blanket. He isn’t nice about it and he makes you say thank you with his gun in your mouth, but there’s a moment where he pretends to feel your forehead so he can fib something about you having a cold to Slade…but really it’s an excuse to stroke you.

He’s very vanilla for the next week.

It's funny that the second mentioned cleaning you up because that's also where my mind went. But I was picturing him dragging you through the base with an unyielding grip on your wrist, purposefully tsking and scoffing every time you stumble over your heavy, shaking legs in an attempt to maintain the uncaring, volatile persona he's chiselled out for you. When he reaches the communal bathrooms, he kicks out any militia and locks the door, leaving the two of you alone.

He genuinely rolls his eyes at your dramatics when you gasp and hiss under the stream of hot water, but as you begin to wash away the grime and dried blood, revealing just how bruised and damaged you really are, the guilt that's been scratching at his chest really digs its claws in.

You struggle, trying to reach your back and though he wants to help, he hesitates, lingering a few feet away until you look at him pleadingly, too embarrassed to ask for help and he figures after all the damage he's done, he owes you this much without fighting or goading you.

So he strips down with you, silently massaging unscented shower gel into your aching muscles, gentle not to push too hard anywhere that's dark or swollen. Snapping at you not to look at him so he can get a good, harrowing glimpse at every cut and abrasion without having to deal with the sad expression on your face that only makes the pit in his guts feel all the more consuming.

Eventually, you're about as clean as you're ever gonna get, and he lets you dry yourself off with a scratchy communal towel before bandaging the worst of your wounds and dressing you in his undershirt,. Then he puts you over his shoulder and carries you to his chambers where he can tell you're trying to hide your excitement at the prospect of sleeping on a real bed.

When he asks if you're gonna be good, or if he's gonna have to chain you to it, you nod vigorously; promising to behave.

He's not so sure, he's been there, making promises to captors with every intent of breaking them but he leaves you be, giving you one last sceptical head-to-toe before departing to tell Slade you're out of service until further notice.

Hours later he returns, finding you curled in on yourself, every blanket and pillow you could find pulled in close,

You wake, frozen to the spot as you feel him crawling in beside you. His cold body silently nestles against yours, the hands that so frequently cause your torment follow your curves until one settles on your hip. The other tenderly brushes over the sore skin at the back of your neck where your former bindings had chaffed. You remain still and silent, not wanting to irritate or arouse him, and eventually, he falls asleep, clinging to you in a way that is both comforting and unsettling.

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 9/?

Hello, hello! Real life has been busy, but finally I've been able to sit down and write! *Edit: added some more details and dialogue. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 3256

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It's been three weeks since you saw Wade or Logan.

Which you are happy about.

But your body definitely isn’t.

Your joints are aching constantly. Some days it feels like you’ve been thrown into a wall multiple times, oddly not breaking or bruising nothing, but leaving you sore and hurting like a bitch. 

There are also the headaches (something that edges close to a migraine at some points) that have no apparent reason behind them, that leave you grumpy and in a foul mood.

Well, there’s no apparent reason that you want to think about.

You only throw in the towel the day after a particular bad headache that had actually turned into a full migraine.

You had spent all day curled up in bed, for once not happy about the big windows in your apartment. You had thought about curling up in the bathroom with the lights off and heated floor on, but there was no way that would have been comfortable with your aching body. The heat might have been nice, but not the hard tile.

So, you bite the bullet, and go to their apartment. No matter that you’ve only been there once, finding your way there is easy.

You are tempted to drive there, but with your aching body and head you don’t trust yourself behind the wheel or handlebars. 

So the subway and walking it is. That’s not pleasant either, but at least you are not a threat to others. And it’s not like you can teleport. You only stumble once on the way, muttering an apology to the guy you bump into. He sends you a nasty look, but it turns less harsh as he takes in your state, and he mutters a “don’t worry about it” back. 

You hadn’t looked too closely in the mirror that morning, but with the way you are feeling, there’s no way you look your best.

It takes you a good amount of time, but you finally knock at their front door, trying not to sway on your feet. They really should look into doing something with the main entrance to the building, you had managed to slip inside again even in your state. There’s some shuffling behind the door, a muffled “coming” barely reaching your ears. 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever reaction you are about to get.

Wade, wearing black sweatpants and a pink hello kitty t-shirt, opens the door, freezing with his mouth open as if he was about to say something. His control on the bond to you slips for a moment, you feel the utter confusion before it goes back to its muted state. You snort out a laugh, trying not to wince when that of course, with your luck, pulls on something that hurts; you’re not even sure what.

“Can I come in?”

“You are not our Chinese food.” You expect some sort of joke to follow, but there’s none, just Wade looking you up and down, “You look like shit pookie.” Is what you get instead, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I am fucking aware. Which is why I am here.” It should be annoying how you can fucking feel your shoulders lighten as you stand there, just looking at each other, but all you can feel is relief. 

You swallow, throat dry. “So, can I come in?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Wade opens the door wider, stepping to the side to let you in. You slowly do so, looking around. You have already been here, but it has been about two months. 

The door clicks shut behind you. Wade doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on your back as you look over the place.

There’s a couch, a few lounge chairs, a tv. There’s also of course the dining room table that you got stitched up on, chairs surrounding it, several of them having clothes thrown over the backrest. It’s a little messy, but looks mostly clean, except for some weird stains on the floor you do your best to avoid as you step just a little closer to the lounge chairs and couch. You are tempted to sit down, but stop as Logan appears from somewhere further in the apartment. He’s wearing a grey flannel and jeans, looking down at his feet as he walks, chastising the ugly as sin dog as it runs around his legs, but as he looks up, he freezes mid-step.

“Was about to yell that we got company, peanut.” Wade says quietly, calm behind your back as you and Logan stare at each other.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that.” A beat of silence where no one says anything. 

Then the dog, Mary-something or other, (you think), barks loudly, once, before running over to you. You look down at her as she stands on her hind legs, pawing at your pants. That seems to break Wade out of whatever state he was frozen in, as he scoops her up, and starts talking. 

“Good to know we weren't the only ones hurting, for a bit there we almost thought this was some very elaborate prank, or a super shitty version of one. Like Punked, just with writing instead of TV cameras. You held out for a long time, and you didn’t even have another soulmate to lean on. Or, oh! Foursome? Or fourway if you wanna be clean about it.” You lick your lips, taking a deep breath, unsure of what to feel. You want to be annoyed, but there’s no annoyance to be found.

“No.”

“Good to know! Now I’m imagining a fourth though, fun to think about! Who though? Cable? Colossus? Buck? Well, I’ve touched all of them before and got nothing, so unlikely. Who do you think the author would throw in? Maybe Spidey? Andrew Garfield version, hopefully. His hair is almost as great as peanut’s.” You glance over at Logan, tuning out Wade for a moment. There’s a barely there frown on his face as he looks you up and down, taking in the state of you. He looks a lot better than you, normal even, and so does Wade.

“-hurting too. Well, for me more than usual. Wait, does this mean cuddle sessions on the couch?” Wade lets out an excited gasp, and for a moment your mind zeros in on the “more than usual” comment, but Wade just keeps going. “Omg, I’m already imagining it, the greatest cuddle pile to ever exist in this universe! Soft blankets, TV going, some scented candles to really set the mood.” He winks, you scowl. 

You take a few more steps so you can plop down on a lounge chair with a groan, leaning back with your legs spread, hands in your own hair, and close your eyes. There’s a spike of something through your bond that’s gone too quick for you to recognise, but you pay it no mind as you massage your scalp. You are not sure if it’s helping, or if it’s the effects of your body finally being in the same room as your soulmates. All you care about is that your persistent headache is slowly fading, your head hurting less by the second.

“You know, touching not from just yourself would also help.” You swear you hear a wink in Wade’s voice; you are sure if your eyes were open you would have seen it.

“Touch me and I will cut your fingers off.”

“Are you even armed?” Footsteps next to you, and then you get a few pokes by a single finger on the side of your thigh before it connects with a hidden knife sheath.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks from behind you.

“Checking if he’s actually armed, I didn't think putting my hand down his pants would have gone well.” You hum, you should make good on your threat, but find that you can’t be bothered right now, too relieved by the tension in your body easing by the second.

“Would have been your whole arm instead. The close proximity should be enough to make me feel and look less like shit.” You rub your temple, opening your eyes to glance up at Wade who is still standing close, while Logan makes his way over to the couch.

“And what if it isn’t?” Logan asks as he sits down, tilting his head to the side as he takes you in. You roll your shoulders, noting to yourself how they already feel looser, more relaxed, even if it’s only been minutes.

Fucking soulmates.

“We’ll jump off that bridge if we get to it.” Wade laughs, but no one gets to say anything else before they are stopped by the doorbell. This turns out to be the earlier mentioned chinese food. You close your eyes when the smell of it makes your nausea return. You dig your hands into the armrest of the lounge chair.

“Well, we weren’t planning on a dinner guest, but we always order enough food for half an army, since we gotta stay big strong boys, so if you want some there’s plenty to go around. And I’m not just talking about food.” Yet another wink you can hear. You shake your head.

“I’ll hurl, so no thanks.” 

“Hurtful pookie.”

“The food dumbass.” You bring the sleeve of your jacket up to your nose, breathing in the familiar scent of your laundry detergent to focus on something else. You get a few breaths in before there’s a weight in your lap, making you open your eyes and look down. The round eyes of Mary look up at you, her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Awwww, she must really like you. She’ll normally beg for food even though she knows she can’t have any. Even if she’s technically indestructible, she will get an upset stomach and shit everywhere if she eats some human foods.” You blink at Wade, who has taken a seat next to Logan and spread out a frankly ridiculous amount of food on the living room table. 

“Indestructible?” Your voice comes out a little muffled from behind your sleeve, but Wade seems to understand you just fine, grinning.

“Ohhh, is it exposition time?” Apparently answering his own question, Wade launches into the story of how they met, how they got Mary Puppins, and apparently saved the universe.

The story is told with a lot of words and gestures, mostly by Wade, though Logan fills in bits and pieces here and there, and sometimes protests when there’s part where Wade is apparently “painting a fucking rosy picture with a lot less guts”.

As Wade talks the nausea slowly dissolves, so you move from holding your sleeve in front of your nose to petting Mary. She doesn’t have much fur, and is still ugly as sin, but she is already growing on you in a weird way. You can see why Wade instantly fell in love, but also why Logan didn’t, at least according to the story Wade tells. 

“-and that’s how this hunk of a man came to live with me and Al.” Wade lets you digest all that they have told as he takes a few big bites of the now cold noodles in front of him. Logan takes a sip of his beer that he had gotten at some point, eyes flicking between you and Wade.

It’s an insane story, and you’re not sure how much of it you believe, but there’s a part that’s missing.

“When did you touch each other?”

“Oh, multiple times. Want me to tell the Honda part all over again? I assure you, it was just as juicy and could have been a lot juicer if Di-”

“No, I mean, when did you realize you were soulmates?”

“Oh! When we got back to this place, and I handed Logan some spare clothes that he could shower.” You tilt your head, then you realise why it happened that late.

“Oh, gloves.”

“Yup! All that touching and handholding, and it was all with gloves. Though his disintegrated alongside his shirt with the ripper, showing off that glorious hairy and sweaty chest and abs, I was still wearing mine. No-one wanted that freak-show.” Logan elbows Wade as your mind goes elsewhere for a moment. You can’t help it, you imagine it for a fleeting second, glancing over Wade and Logan, the latter of whom tilts his head just the teeniest bit to the side. “I didn’t take my gloves off until the safety of home, so we had a nice bonding time in the shitty bathroom. Freaked out Mr. Growly over here, he doesn’t have soulmates in his universe.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I want to live in your universe.” Logan scoffs, taking a drink of his beer.

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Wait, if you don’t have soulmates, how….?”

“We figured it must have been all that sexy hand holding, our particles getting mixed by the time ripper, and Madonna.”

“What does Mad- You know what, doesn’t matter.” Your shoulders are high, trying to tense, but being closer to your soulmates Wade and Logan are making them more relaxed. It’s an odd combo, making it feel like your shoulders are slowly rolling up and down.

“So you got the kitten claws and kitten ears in your hair, and you got super healing with a side of skin disease.”

“Hardy har, don’t bully me I’ll cum. But something like that, just with a much deeper and so, so tragic backstory. But there has been enough exposition for today, don't you think?”

“Sure, right, whatever. So the two of you saved the fucking universe and got each other in the process, fucking fabulous.” You scrub your hands over your face, before combing through your hair a few times. “Where in the fuck do I fit in in this mess.” You mostly mumble it to yourself, trying to make sense of it all.

“I don’t know, but if you let us, we could figure it out together. Like some weird sort of buddy cop movie, but in an ACAB way.” You snort behind your hands, not being able to help yourself. Wade’s humor has already grown on you.

“Come on, what you’re doing now is just making it fucking worse for yourself, even if you don’t like it.” Logan supplies.

“Yeah no shit, I feel the same way I look.”

“Hot as shit.” Wade winks at you, you roll your eyes.

“Just shit.” 

“Agree to disagree, pookie.” A few moments of silence, where you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling, take a few deep breaths, and try to not concentrate on how your bonds are practically vibrating with excitement even in their muted states. 

“Soooooo, how are we going to do this?” Wade is, of course, the one to break the silence. 

“Do what?”

“Start of this beautiful journey of loveeee and self healing?” Wade wiggles in his seat, pushing his shoulder into Logan, who rolls his eyes at his antics, but throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Fuck if I know.” A few beats where you try to think, now that you can focus on something else other than pain and nausea. “Regular-ish meetings would probably be good. Try to keep the side-effects, but also the contact, minimal.”

“Hurtful pookie.” Wade says again, but Logan talks before you can respond to him.

“Let’s start with once a week, and if that’s not enough, we’ll try more.” He suggests.

“Feels like I’m starting a god damn drug trial or some bullshit.”

“Trial of love pookie.” You groan as Logan snorts. Wade claps his hands together. “Well, consider this the start of many wonderful nights to come! Wanna watch a movie? Al is still out who the fuck knows where doing fuck knows what (probably coke) for a while, so we got the place to ourselves” You shrug. Might as well, if you are going to be forced to spend time with your soulmates so your body doesn't start to feel like you've been run over by a truck. 

A movie will hopefully keep your mind distracted, it’s not like you need to stare deeply into each other’s eyes, or talk about feelings, for it to work and calm down your body and mind.

Wade puts on a Barbie movie of all things, and begins to yap about the Barbie movie universe, or the BMU. Logan gets up to fetch some popcorn, which you take a few handfuls off as your stomach and body has settled for now. You pet Mary Puppins as you try to pay attention to the movie.

Thirty minutes into the movie, you are out like a light, the relief of your body making you fall asleep where you sit, Mary Puppins resting in your lap with your hand on top of her barely fur-covered head.

—---

When you wake up from your unplanned nap, it’s to your neck hurting from being at an odd angle for way too long. You have no idea what time it is, but it’s dark outside the window, the only light in the room is the rays spilling in from a lamp-post somewhere outside.

Taking stock of your body as you sit up properly, the only thing that aches is your neck and upper shoulders. A blanket that wasn’t there before falls into your lap as you move, Mary Puppins no longer occuping it. You realize that somehow, at some point during your sleep, the sofa, which apparently is a pullout, had been transformed into a bed. 

Which Wade and Logan are currently sleeping on, with a dog bed next to it where Mary Puppins is curled up.

How they had managed to do that without waking you, you don’t know. 

You really must have been exhausted.

You rub both your hands over your face, moving one to your neck to knead at the sore muscle there. You bite your lip to keep in the groan that threatens to slip out, glancing at the bed to make sure neither man wakes.

And then you keep looking.

Logan is on his back, one arm around Wade, whose head rests on his chest. Their legs are intertwined, both of them snoring quietly. They are both wearing shirts, though Logan’s have ridden up to show a hairy happy trail, which disappears underneath the edge of the blanket that covers their lower halves.

They both look surprisingly soft.

You shake your head as soon as that thought appears, banishing it to the darkness of the void. Where in the world did that come from?

That’s not a question you can answer, at least not with something that you will like, so instead you focus your energy on getting up from the chair as quietly as possible.

It must fail somehow though, because as you put the blanket down in the chair and stand up fully, there’s a soft call of your name.

Looking over to the pullout, Logan’s head is raised from the pillow. He’s looking at you, in the limited light it’s hard to tell his expression, but you don’t think he’s scowling.  

You think that’s about to change though.

“See you in a week Logan.” You whisper, and take the few steps needed towards the front door, opening it, and then closing it behind you with the softest click you can manage. 

This time you don’t run, even as much as your brain is screaming for you to do so. 

In the opposite direction of where you are actually going.

[shewritesforpoc]

bartender||han jisung x you||mdni

pairings: bartender!jisung x fempoc!reader

synopsis: you go to the same bar every night, served by the same bartender, you get jelly of another lady but little did you know that bartender man was only for you.

warnings: s m u t, strangers to lovers au, slowish burn, unprotected sex , mentions of drinking, use of petnames, slight orgasm denial(m and f), slight jealousy, slight angst, multiple orgasm (f), oral (m and f), pull out method, mention of masturbation, ji has a small obsession with u, lmk if i missed anything.

a/n: this is heavily influenced by the song “dream of you” by chungha. so i would recommend listening while reading! also thanks for all the likes and follows! enjoy ;) lowercase intended

story under the cut :)

ever since your break up with your ex, you havent failed to hit up the same bar everyday after work. the sweet, fruity and spicy alcoholic taste of whiskey seems to blow the stress of life right off your shoulders, it makes you forget about deadlines, the weight of your heart break, the weight of life. it makes you feel light, it relaxes you.

today was no different. you go to the same bar and order your drink. the bartender hands you the drink and makes the usual small talk. bless him, he can tell that life has been crushing you lately. “rough day?” he asks. “yeah man, life has gone to shit for me.” you replied. “‘m sorry about that honey, but let me know if you need a refill, just dont drink too much.” he said as he winked and walked away.

maybe its the liquor or maybe you didnt notice before, but ‘damn’ you think ‘hes so fucking fine.’ all the times youve come here, he serves you, but you never asked him for his name. you didnt wanna come off as a creep or anything, youre sure many people have asked him for his name. for some reason, he doesnt wear a nametag. fuck it, “excuse me bartender.” you said suddenly. he wasnt too far away from you, just a couple customers away. he motions you to wait while he finishes with a customer.

“hi, did you want a refill?” he asked. “uh…no…um…dont take this the wrong way..but youve been serving me for a while and i never got a name.” you said. he looked at you and smiled. “how rude of me. my name is jisung!” he said and extended his arm for a handshake. “oh no i shouldve asked you. but im [reader], nice to meet you!” you said as you shook his hand profusely. he stood there for a minute, looking at you. you were looking at him. truly taking in his features. the way his glasses sat on his beautifully sculpted face. the way his uniform sorta hugged his slim figure, he was actually breathtaking.

you wouldnt be surprised if he had a girlfriend. you would be surprised if he didnt. “excuse me bartender.” a lady called. you didnt even notice you were holding his hand at that point until he smiled, briefly squeezed your hand and walked away. his hands were soft. you followed him with your eyes, you seen the lady who called for him. she wasnt all that cute. her hair was nice and neat, her outfit was formal and classy, she looked like the business class.

she was looking at him with eyes full of lust, she was flirting with him. you could tell she was really flustering him because you could hear his small giggling. she looked over at you and smirked. the hell is wrong with her? what is she trying to prove? why are you getting upset about it? jisung isnt yours, and he for damn sure isnt hers either. before you could even get to that point, you asked him to close your tab and you left.

you sat in your car for a second to be sure you werent too fucked up to drive, you took a deep breathe and looked out the window. tonight was beautiful. lightly raining, and chilly. your mind started to drift back to the moment you learned his name. his voice kept traveling in your mind. it brought a small smile to your face, it warmed your heart a little. just then, you seen the same woman walk out, jisung following behind her, he gets into her car and they leave.

“the fuck?” you said in utter disbelief. you decided not to think too much of it and went home.

the next evening, youre back at the bar. same bartender, same everything. “[reader] the usual?” said jisung. you nodded and he got your drink ready. “you doing alright?” he asked. you nodded your head once more. he looked at you confused, you normally talk to him. you always talk to him, whats with the cold shoulder? he set your drink down, and you took it. everything that happened last night, the small anger you felt, it all came rushing back. and instead of taking your small sips, you down the whole thing. slamming the cup back down and catching some peoples attention. it caught the attention of jisung.

now he knew something was up. “[reader] you are not okay. whats going on with you?” jisung said with concern lacing his voice. “i am fucking fine. aint shit wrong with me. now another one please.” you said. youre also slightly tipsy. he looks more concerned now but still gives you another one. it felt like life was still crumbling down on you. so to numb it, you downed one shot, two shots, four shots, “thats enough [reader], i legally cannot serve you anymore drinks.” jisung said. “bullshit, this is bullshit. im fucking—outta here.” you said. you start getting hiccups now, you were also totally drunk.

“ill call a cab for you. your car will be here in the morning.” jisung said. “dont fuckin act like you care ab—about me. ji—jisung.” you said drunkenly. he looked at you with slight heartbreak. he does care about you. youre the reason why he works every night. he loves looking at you, admiring you. the day you unknowingly held his hand, he went home and masturbated with the same hand. “[reader], ill take you home instead. does anyone live with you that can make sure okay and also can pick your car up tonight?” he said. hes not supposed to take you home. he could lose his job over it. but he will do anything just to be close to you. “n—no” you hiccuped.

he sat you down in an isolated booth and finished the night. he served a few more people and then closed up shop. while he was doing this, you fell asleep. though he didnt wanna wake you, he had to at least get you standing up so he can help you walk to his car. “[reader]…..[reader]” he said while gently shaking you awake. you looked around to see the bar is empty. you looked at him with confusion. “hey, its time for me to take you home.” he said and smiled. you nodded as you rubbed your eyes and got up to walk. since you were still under the influence, you had some difficulty walking on your own. luckily jisung was next to you and ready to help you walk.

he helped you in his car, strapped you in, and began driving you home. “jisung.” you spoke. “yes [reader]?” he replied. “why are you doing this?” you said softly. “because i care about you. i care about your safety.” he said. sure it was the truth but it wasnt the whole truth. “if you cared, why did you go off with that ugly ass lady?” you asked. he grinned a bit. “she took me to her house, we made out but i told her i wasn’t interested in her. i told her i had my eyes on someone else.” he said. you went from being slumped over looking out the window to now sitting up and looking at him. “you did? what happened after that?” you asked invested. “she brought me back to the bar, i got in my own car and left.” he replied.

you eventually arrived at your home and he helped you in and helped you get settled. “ji?” you called. he looked at you. “can you stay the night with me? i dont want to be alone. i wanna be with you.” you said. he smiled softly and nodded. you both got into your bed and laid there. both of you are awake, both are scared to say something. “[reader], remember when i said that i told the lady i was interested in someone else?” he spoke. “yeah.” you answered. “well, ever since you came into the bar, ive been interested in you. i was too scared to introduce myself. after i learned that you were going through a break up, i tried to suppress my feelings and make sure i was there for you. im trying to say that i want you. i know you want me as well.” he said as he looked at you.

his words made you smile, “i do, want you.” you said as you looked at him and snuggled closer. he leaned a bit closer to your face, his breath fanning your face. you were the one who closed the gap and kissed him. it was one peck, then he came back and started to kiss you passionately. you climbed on top of him, not breaking the kiss. as the room started to get hot, you started to take off your shirt. him taking off his shirt revealing his slim but muscular body. jisung reached up and unclasped your bra straps. your bra fell down your body showing off your beautiful tits. he looked in awe.

he looked you in the eyes before taking one of your nipples and sucking on it. the other nipped was being teased by this free hand. you started to grind yourself on him to relieve some of the pressure. he groaned a bit as youre right on top of his cock. you threw your head back as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. he also started to rock his hips upwards to meet your pussy halfway. this causing both of you to moan softly. “i cant wait anymore ji.” you said needily. “okay baby, let me take care of you.” he said softly.

you climbed off him and laid on your back, jisung taking off your pants and then getting up to take off his. he laid down between your legs. “wow, so wet. and your pussy is so pretty. just like you baby girl.” he said as he looked up at you. it made you blush and subconsciously close your legs, but he caught them in time. he leaned in and licked it. a small teasing lick. you whined as you grew needier and needier for him. he heard your whines and stopped teasing. he began to really savor you by sucking on your clit. then dipping his tongue in and out of your hole. you moaned loudly as hes doing this to you. “that feel good?” he asked. “mmhm~” you replied not really able to say anything.

you started to rock you hips against his mouth and he started licking faster. you grabbed his hair and pushed his head into you for more. he giggled softly at this, the vibrations of it causing you to feel closer to your climax. “just like that—ah! just like that~” you screamed softly. he cooed into you again sending vibrations to your clit. you felt your high approaching quickly. as if his mouth wasnt enough, he took two fingers and fingered you quickly. this making your high wash over you. with a loud “fuck!~” you came hard.

your legs were shaking slightly from how intense it was. you sat up and kissed him deeply. tasting yourself made you moan. you pulled back. “your turn.” you smirked. he laid down and you sat between his legs. his fully erect dick was leaking some pre. you licked a fat stripe from the bottom of his dick to his pretty tip. he hissed at the sensation. you did that two or three times before you took his tip and started to suck on it. “oh goodness—oh go—that feels nice.” he whimpered. you smiled as you took his length all the way down. it took him by surprise and he subconsciously bucked his hips upwards. whatever didnt fit in your mouth, you took your hand and jerked it.

you bobbed your head and jerked him quickly, then slowly to tease. you kept that same pattern for about 5 minutes before he says “shit—baby..im gonna..’m cumming~”. you stopped before he could, he looked at you in amusement. “youre gonna regret that honey.” he chuckled. he flipped you over so you were on your back. he lined himself with you. “is this okay? we dont have to move on if you dont want to.” he said.

“im sure, i want this, i want you.” you moaned slightly. no more words were said as he slid himself into you. he was a couple inches bigger than your ex but he was definitely wider. the stretch making your toes curl. “oh my god baby, youre tight. its feels so good princess.” he moaned as he bottomed out. he stroked himself slowly in, slowly out. it was making your eyes roll back. you gripped his arm “faster, please ji. i need it…i need—it!” you moaned loudly as he sped up like you asked. he was knocking the wind from your lungs, it felt so good!

“i know you need it, you like how it feels? hm? you like how i fuck you?” he whispered in your ear. he reached his hand down and rubbed your clit. this made you closer quickly. “yes! yesyesyes—fuck im cumming!” you nearly screamed. he pulled out quickly and let you calm down. you frowned and whined. “told you, you’d regret not letting me cum.” he said. he turned you on your knees so you were in doggy position. he stroked himself a couple times before pushing himself back into you. jisung threw his head back and he rocked himself into you. he gripped your hips as he dragged you on and off his cock.

from this angle, you felt your climax about to hit again. maybe even harder than before. by this time, jisung was also close. his hips starting to lose rhythm and became sloppier by the seconds. “fuck [reader], youre gonna make me fuckin—cum!” he whined. you were so close to yours that you barely understood what he was saying. after a couple more hard thrusts of his hips, you were screaming and crying slightly as your orgasm hit you like a bus. he fucked you through your high. shortly after you he pulled out and started to stroke himself. “oh my god—im cumming…im cu—m’ gonna—fuck!” he moaned as he finished on your back.

after you both calmed down and cleaned up, he kissed you on the lips again. “im all yours baby, im all for you.” he said. you smiled as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

fin!

©️shewritesforpoc on tumblr !!

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn’t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[the-wip-project]

January 26

Hello writerly friends!

I hope you are deep in your story and got a first grasp of what your story wants to be. Maybe it even surprised you, developed in a way you didn't expect. 

Your most important trait as a writer is perseverance. You have to stick to it, you have to keep going, because you cannot discover your story if you don't write it. But there will come a point where you get stuck. Writer's block is extremely difficult for discovery writer, because we don't have an outline to guide us forward. We're stuck and we don't know where to go next.

Maybe you've already run into that kind of wall, so let's return to Patricia McLinn's book "Survival Kit For Writers" to find some advice about how to deal with writer's block as a discovery writer.

Patricia McLinn turns to brainstorming when she gets stuck. She advises to leave the actual story, but work inside the world you've created. Take your characters and ask them questions. Specific questions. This is not a friendly interview, grab your character and ask them "What the fuck was that about?" and then write down everything you'll find. Be demanding, make it an argument. Poke your subconscious until it spills the beans. These are not words that will end up in your story, but they will show you where your story is headed.

Another piece of advice you'll always hear around writer's block and its remedies, is to "refill the creative well". Meaning: reading and watching stories. McLinn specifies this more, she recommends that you read specific chunks of other books for inspiration. If you're stuck on a fight scene, find fight scenes in other books and analyse what you like and dislike about them. 

That's also a general point regarding the books we read. What stands out to you? What do you find important in the stories you read? What speaks to you about a specific scene? I'm usually too lazy to write that down, but it probably makes sense to write those sort of findings down. Don't be lazy like me, be smarter.

As always, accountability and writing sprints are good tools that work well. Posting here on tumblr how you write and how it's going, may look like nothing important now, but you will look back on this one day and be amazed at what you did. It means something to say "look, I did that".

We have a check-in channel on our discord, where we post our wordcounts for accountability. It's just a little thing, but I look into the channel every day and it makes me so happy to see all those numbers. Someone follows this project on bluesky and posts daily (very impressive) wordcounts, and really tickles me to see that. 

Our sprint bot died, so there aren't any sprints right now, but you can always use a focus app on your phone and set it to 20 minutes, or you can use a site like OhWrite (https://ohwrite.co/) to sprint with other people. These things work, honestly. I know it's annoying but these are like the easiest tools in the box and it would be stupid not to use them. 

So in that spirit, let's see your accountability!

@creativelyfueled @wildswrites @pheita @koiwrites @wickedwitchofthewilds @theburnedoutnerd @fontainebleau22 @illegalcerebral @incognitajones @theglitchywriterboi @sashakielman @satashiiwrites @lilliebellfanfics @jeaniefranklins @iressails @lastelle21 @sgam76 @tryingtimi @randomquadballpun @dragonnan @mclavellan @bisexualdawnsummers @hiraethwritings @523rdrebel @thebonesongs @gewhanaa @broodwolf221 @batteredrugosa @quilleth @exceedinglyfilledwithfolly @vigilskept @drowsy-quill @i-had-bucky @direquail @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @bogunicorn

[libelulalil4]

On iwtvtwt I see some people hoping for dreamclaudia/claudia haunting (which would be awesome I hope they can get Delainey Hayles back on the show somehow) that specifically torments armand. The thing is, I dont think armand actually cares about claudia enough for it to be compelling, their dynamic is intriguing but to compare it to dreamstat for example, personally I dont feel any deep connection between armand and claudia.

When it comes to how armand sees claudia, I think he finds her existence quite terrifying bc it puts into question his own ideas about his identity and his vampirism. What im trying to say is that claudia could have essentially been anyone to armand, its what she represents for him that may give an illusion of connection between the characters.

He has always been given an identity, arun, amadeo, armand, maÎtre, his vampirism, even rashid (to an extent) and he has never truly been able to reconcile these different identities. He separates these as different people, he changes his appearance, he changes his accent, he manipulates other's memories. Claudia is an abomination to him. He cannot put her in a neat little box (I mean her ashes arent even given that, she is "spread" everywhere, used by everyone etc.) Every aspect of her is contradiction, visually a human child and a vampire woman, hates humans but falls in love with madeleine, "daughter/sister/throw pillow" etc. and yet she is able to reconcile all of her identities through vampirism, she takes pride in what she is and finds it to be the only comfort... so armand takes exactly that away from her. Vampirism (to armand) was the only connection between them both, the only identifier that he could understand, claudia was a vampire so he killed her as a vampire, that is where that relationship ends in my opinion.

[cloudcountry]

rryuunisuke akutagawa my wife my wife please just anything you want aubbie i just love them so much they are my special little guy who i love so much i am in a atsu ryuu sandwich that i hope to die in hes so cutesy look at him please auubbie

SUMMARY: you can't help but worry about him

COMMENTS: idk why this ended up being kinda angsty i was TRYING to write FLUFF

You enter your shared house with a soft “I’m home,” just in case your lover is actually home for once. You take your shoes off, padding into the living room. Akutagawa is lying on the couch, fast asleep, a bloody tissue clenched in his fist. Your shoulders slump, worry grasping your heart in a vice grip.

He looks fine. He has to be fine.

You breathe softly, kneeling by his side and brushing his hair away from his face. He looks sickly pale, almost deathly so, but you push that word into the farthest corner of your mind. Thinking that way won’t help him or you.

Making your way to the kitchen, you keep him in the corner of your eye just in case he wakes up, the soft rising and falling of his chest calming the racing of your heart. Preparing dinner is easy despite the shake in your hands, and you take the utmost care when cutting vegetables. Akutagawa wouldn’t be too happy with you if you ended up hurting yourself, you know that well.

After what seems like hours of sluggish movements and hopeful glances, the stew is cooking on the stove as you’ve resumed your full on staring at your partner.

It’s not like you’d been left in the dark about what he did. Anyone who wanted to be with him had to know at least that much.

He’d come back with worse. You still remember all the blood and scars that followed his battle a few months ago with another ability user.

Akutagawa had bounced back from worse.

That doesn’t stop the deep sigh of relief when you see him prop himself on his elbows and cough, holding the bloodied tissue to his mouth. There’s no fresh blood when he pulls away. You’re glad he isn’t coughing up blood again.

“Hey.” you murmur, smiling softly as he turns to look at you, “Are you okay?”

He coughs, covering his mouth with the wad of tissue again. He doesn’t give any indication that he is or isn’t okay, but the fact that he’s up and moving is good enough for you.

You resume your comfortable silence, stirring the stew when it needs to be stirred, and eventually Akutagawa stumbles over to you like a newborn kitty and rests his head on your shoulder. You kiss his forehead and hum in acknowledgement, heart swelling three times its size.

He makes a soft sound in response, a sound that sounds very much like a thank you, and you smile.

[thesilvertheorist]

• nsfw drabble - first time •

REQUEST: anon asked -

"five hargreeves first time hc/drabbles? 🥹"

warnings/tags: mdni (this is a smut drabble!), five's body and mind are 18+ here (don't be creepy), virgin!five, fivexfem!reader (lmk if people want a masc!reader ver.), PiV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say and not as I write - use protection!)

Masterlist

enjoy?? teehee - i'm open to doing another version of this, more like a fic, hmu for details

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

okay so, five is obviously VERY timid when it comes to romance and intimacy on all levels... he just doesn't know what to do, like at all. he's just so clueless. he's spent years working for the commission, visiting sleazy places just to kill people who obstructed the timeline corrections. he never really knew what to make of knowing people were 'boning'. he usually gets utterly disgusted by the thought of sex - not realising that he just didn't understand what it meant if it were to happen with a partner he actually trusted to look after him...a partner he trusted to treat the delicate parts of him with care...to treat his soul with care. so when you came into his life, and your relationship began to progress, he was pleasantly surprised that the thought of sex no longer disgusted him - but ONLY if his thoughts were focused on having sex with you. he's uninterested in other people at the best of times - its obvious he's a devoted partner in all aspects.

the two of you would have had conversations about sex before, elaborating more about when it felt like the right time and when you would feel comfortable taking that extra step. five is meticulous about everything, he ensures to never overstep a single boundary of yours, not even once; just as you'd never overstep one of his. he is so deeply emotional about the fact that you treat him with respect and listen to what he's telling you. he shows that respect back a trillion times over. this, however, does not mitigate the natural progression of a human relationship. you two have hormones and urges which need answering.

the two of you will be sharing an emotionally intimate moment, holding each other and relishing in the comfort that the other brings. you'll feel five relax underneath your touch and really let that harsh outer persona drop. you bring him in for a kiss, a loving one, one that expresses deep feelings of devotion and adoration. over the course of your relationship with five, he's learned so much about how to love up on you. his once inexperienced kisses are now exactly what you need from him. his once tentatively shy hands are now planted firmly on your waist, funning themselves over your hips and up into your hair. five never really thought he'd need more than this from you...but something in him has shifted and today - he needs it.

you'd urge five to get comfortable, knowing that this is going to be much better unrushed and truly appreciated. he'd lay next to you, feeling you pull him back in for another kiss, and then another one...and another. this moment would progress until you're both left gasping for air. you'd both just explore each other with an overwhelming feeling of love, almost tearjerkingly. you'd touch him as if he were made of glass - as if he'd shatter beneath you, because he feels like he just might. every touch you give him sends shivers up his spine and blood away from his brain. he's so delicate. you'd break apart from him to caress his face, fix his hair, and lock his gaze. whilst looking at him you'd see everything he is: insecurity, obscurity, and immense bravery. he'd searching your eyes for what comes next. as he's so friggin out of his depth when it comes to anything physical...or emotional for that matter. you'd assure him that he's safe with you, peppering kisses on his face as you whisper your affirming sweet nothings over to him, feeling him begin to relax again.

five would have no idea what's next. obviously he knows the basic principles of sexual interaction...but never had he put thought into the logistics. before he could spite himself at the gross oversight, you'd interrupt his train (wreck) of thought by asking him if he wanted to keep going. he'd be completely taken aback by your question - so confused by it. had he made you feel like he didn't want to continue?? you'd see the panic start to set in and reassure him that you're asking for his sake and not yours, affirming to him that he has the option to say no. and that'd be when you clocked them...tears. five wouldn't be able to stop them, hell he wouldn't even know they were happening. he would just be so damn emotional about someone actually (wholeheartedly) giving a shit about him - enough so to give him the option to say no [five does not realise that this is the bare minimum as he's never felt love...okay carrying on], enough to ask him how HE felt.

he'd basically fall to pieces into your arms and babble endlessly about his love for you and how he wants to take this step with you - and only you. he'd want you to take care of him. you'd take his hand in yours as you began to trace down his body, removing clothing as you went, five slipping back into his shy little shell that he knows all too well. i feel like he'd need you to watch him intently to pull him back out when this happened - showering him with kisses on the places on his body he doesn't like (which is basically everywhere because he has immense dysmorphia). he'd return the favour for you, removing your clothes and instead covering you in his words of devotion and love. that's when you'd notice his inexperience come back to him. he'd have no idea on where to touch you - no clue on how to make you feel good... but you'd take his hand and (quite literally) show him.

you'd lead his hands to where you felt best - feeling his hands brush against your breasts to feel across your nipples (his mouth would water at how soft you felt and how delectable you were), you'd lead him down to your core, giving him access to your wet heat. he'd lose it when he touched you there, dropping his face into the crevice of your neck. the feeling of your slick, the warmth of your cunt...it would all overcome him and he'd endlessly run his fingers up and down your folds, committing the sensation to memory whilst also losing his brain entirely. this is where he'd need you to step in, to take the lead for this one. he's so used to having to be in complete control all the time...he'd need you to control this for him - to tell him how this is meant to go - to make sure he knew he didn't need to think through this...to let him be authentically himself.

i feel like he'd want you to cover him, he'd be on the bottom whilst you made yourself comfortable on top of him, making sure to drown him in affection as you both adjusted to the feeling of being like this with each other. five would be putty in your hands, letting you love him wherever you needed to, whenever you needed to. he'd gasp when you took his cock into your hands, stroking it gently, milking the precum from him. he'd curse his body for the eagerness of his reaction - feeling as though he may end this before he'd even got chance to start it. he'd want this to last for as long as humanly possible... he'd whine out incoherent whines of desperation as you swipe his tip across your folds, gathering letting your wetness drip down him, preparing him to enter you. he'd throw his head back when you would tease his tip at your entrance, circling it, threatening to enter and then pulling away. he'd grab at you, needing to ground himself from being sent sky high with the blood rushing through his veins.

you'd look him in the eyes as you took his hand in your own, finally allowing his tip to enter you. and he would fall to fucking pieces. he'd not break your gaze for a single second, but his mouth would be slack-jawed and he'd have no words - the only sound coming out of him would be a silent scream of pleasure at the feeling of you encasing him. you'd slide onto him slowly, letting both you and him adjust to the sensation of being joined in the closest place imaginable. once fully seated, you'd allow five to break your gaze and his head would loll back, falling limp as his breath hitched and his cock twitched inside you. you'd had an inkling that this meant that he wouldn't last long. hell, he'd have been holding it for ages already, forcing himself to hang on for this specific moment, a moment that pleased you both...a moment that pleased you.

you'd rise up slowly and feel him panic when he thinks his dick is about to fall out of you, seeing the terror in his eyes as his head snapped back up - relieved and yet astounded when you'd drop your hips back down and take him back into your cunt again. you'd see his eyebrows crease and his eyes screw shut, notice how his ribs flare and his his breath would hitch with every movement you'd make. you decide to let him feel it, to lead him through it, to let him finish.

[five beneath you, quivering with pleasure] "hhaaaah, don- don't know if i can-" "okay, five, it's okay. i've got you," you'd assure to him once again, squeezing his hand that you'd been holding since before he entered you, "it's okay, baby, let go. let it go for me, i've got you" he'd connect your lips in an urgently wet kiss, needing to feel as much of you as possible and show his love for you, breaking it only to gasp and whimper as he felt the coil inside him snap. "oh god- i love you, i love you so fucking much, can't stop, oh-" "i love you too, five... let it go for me, that's it-" you'd speak out as you felt your own pleasure rise and snap along with him, mixing your love together in the deepest part of you.

you wouldn't stop moving against him, only slowing your pace so he'd have chance to come back to his senses. he'd never want to leave you. you'd feel his cock soften slowly inside you and you'd stop moving altogether, resting against him, tangling your free hand in his sweaty hair. he'd whisper endlessly about his love for you, relishing in the fact that you - the person he adored most in the world - had just made him feel nothing short of fucking euphoric.

he'd be utterly offended when you lifted yourself up off him, attempting to summon the strength to keep you there but his muscles would certainly betray him and he'd pout about it, blood coming back up to his brain and reinstating his usual arsey attitude. he still wouldn't object to you pulling him into a close cuddle whilst you brought him back to reality. he'd wonder if he did well for you, feeling like he may have disappointed you until you'd whisper to him about how good of a job he did, laughing slightly about how he's certainly a quick study. you'd feel him release a content sigh before dropping to sleep in your arms, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling wanted. oh and he'd definitely be all over you the next day, wanting to shower you with affection, feeling closer to you than ever before.

[applepies-with-some-looting]

FOR REAL OMG.

My first introduction to the fandom is through SQH, making me start off on a bad note with Shen Yuan because from the get go I'm just like: "Okay this is the literal CREATOR of this world, why tf is a random rich kid millennial the one who's speed running this story on easy otome-esque mode." because seriously, I mean, why not SQH?? Why did he have to actually make an effort and live through everything to reach where he is, when SY just pops in to take over SJ's body when SJ had already fought tooth and nail for his strength, body, position, and prestige? Not to mention, the system is more lax w SY than SQH??? like why??

Then I transitioned to SJ thru a fanfic where SQH saves him and of course SY is "better" than SJ I mean, a pampered third young master of rich parents?? Obviously he would be more subdued and kinder than the guy who literally had the misfortune of living in the rotting bowels of society since childhood.

Nobody wants a broken man.

They prefer those who are soft and good and kind, when a lot of those people are that way because they have the privilege to be. Like that quote from Parasite(?) "She's not rich and nice, she's nice because she's rich. If I was rich I could be nice too." It's easy to be "nice" when you've never suffered or worked a day in your life. SY didn't have to work or suffer because he was fortunate enough to be born rich, and that's why he's so 'kind' without consequence.

YQY being kind had fucked over SJ.

SJ trying to be kind and help LQG just ended up with his being accused of trying to kill him (twice).

SJ pampering NYY? It fucked him over.

SJ sparing QHT for unknowingly helping him even though its her own family at fault (and her ignorance is frankly annoying)? Fucked him over.

SJ saving and following YQY even though he thinks YQY never went back for him???? FUCKED HIM OVER.

Shen Jiu has been dealt bad cards all of his life, obviously he would be bitter, resentful, and deal out bad cards in return. I'm just pissed nobody tried enough for him yet they have the audacity to fawn over an imposter waltzing around using his face, body, power, and prestige doing things he would hate. This is why I hate calling SY or SJ as SQQ. SJ is the one who earned that name and identity but SY just gets it granted to him by the system??

In comparison to TCF (another fandom I'm in), Cale is not privileged. He had also been abused and suffered almost all his life. (pre-transmigration) But why don't I prefer the original Cale if I liked SJ? Okay, for me it kinda comes down to 'privilege' again. Og!Cale literally took over KRS's body as KRS is already a fundamental part of the company, taking over his body, strength, face, abilities, prestige, and some of his memories (+ a literal human guide) while Cale gets yeeted to a world on the verge of war with nothing but incomplete information (and emotional clownery /affectionate/). After fighting tooth and nail for survival for at least 20+ years in Korea, now he has to do it again but with ✨Fantasy DLC and Adoption✨ installed. (Though, liking SJ opened my eyes and made me like Og!Cale more, I still prefer KRS!Cale)

Compared to SY, Cale's kindness just feels more... meaningful to me. More raw, more real. Now, while he did have ppl guide him compared to SJ, I prefer him over SY simply because this is a man who suffered and was abused like SJ yet... he's still kind?? It's more admirable to me when a man who had "given in to the place that was supposed to be called home" and had to fight for the survival of himself and others for years exhibits kindness.

Because hurt people have the tendency to hurt people and unlike the kindness that stems from having a home, freedom, shelter, money, love, and family since birth; kindness that sprouted from love and the desire to help others not experience the same abuse and hurt that he did (and suffering more in the process) evokes more deep emotions and a sense of fondness within me.

Also, Cale treats the ppl around him as actual real ppl and not just characters. He has empathy, and a lot of it.

Heck, he even had the time to worry about the OG!Cale and his happiness in the middle of dealing with a fuckin war led by a thousand year old reincarnator!!!!! He only let go of his worries when it was confirmed to him via a trusted source that Og!Cale was happy!!!!

I've been into the TCF fandom for years now and it seems I've been spoiled by Cale's care and fucks to give even towards ppl that are seemingly not mentioned in the novel or those that can be deemed not rlly important. ig that's why I found SY's indifference and even hate towards the original owner of his body (and his reaction to GYX's death) to be off putting. (Though, SJ did abuse SY's fav character so rlly, I can understand. Still put off by his indifference + reaction to GYZ's death though)

Maybe it's also a plus that Cale's relationships with others aren't rlly romantic but focus more on family. I'm not against romance, it's just that SY's wife beam is a bit too potent for my taste.

This post brings up a point too: → [°_°]

Look this is just an opinion not a fact don't get into such a tussle over a stanger opinion on a book of all things which are meant for entertainment. How I view this doesn't effect you nor do you take it as fact in fact youre free to disagree don't care.

It fucking says a lot about Shen Jiu as a character and the fandom as a whole in fanfics when the majority of them make him in fanfics having a better turn around in his life is always when a respected man is attached to hip usually( Liu Qingge) or acts as a voucher for people to even see him past his shell or his lies about the true reason he goes to the brothel goes out the window because otherwise he's a liar, a no-good and lecher and scum villain and because he's so emotional and volatile people do not respect him as a peakleader at all. He doesn't have a voice like it's telling me he's so female-coded cause ladies knows how dangerous people giving character assassination at your person could do tons of damage to your future prospects in future life and honestly I really like even though the ficwriters don't outright say it cause it subtle how majority every man and person in his life have taken away his autonomy and I find the most egregious example SY not actually giving a fuck about the person of the body he's inhabited and him not emoting at all when he saw the OG being abused and still validating LBG like if even the modern man from another era doesn't give a shit either someone who has to have sensible morals in society and even he doesn't care . This dynamic reflects a lot how society often undermines individuals who don't fit its norms, stripping them of their autonomy and dignity. SJ's struggle for respect and recognition in the story mirrors real-world issues of power and validation.

Everyone prefers SY. I'm not going to act as if I'm better though in real-life same I'd like him more too but his martial siblings barley tried. If they dislike him whatevs, but you guys are not at all suspicious about the 180 change in behavior how the kid he used to hurt and abuse is now being loved and pampered wtf??? Don't you guys owe him that much to investigate.

They could have tried to dig deeper aside from the one time they test him for possession but they didn't because they prefer the new and improved him". It actually so telling how the author chose someone of such a rich and idle pampered background to be transmigrated to the villain who's origin the very opposite of that and yet seemingly integrated himself better and incorporate better relationship with them then SJ.

The cultivation world, as well as the characters within it, reflect deep-seated classist attitudes. SJ's rough background and survival tactics make him an outsider, whereas SY, coming from a more privileged background, can navigate and be accepted more easily.

What does that actually say exactly that someone of a better background get along with the peaklords but not SJ because with our SJ he's a fighter and biter, he plays dirty to win in their eyes, he a lecher every inconceivable things is literally placed onto him just based on their perception of him. Is it that unconsciously they could tell SJ is not of of them or am I looking to deep haha??? The cultivation world is very classist is not news to anyone and that being the exploration in MXTX next book and how WWX background being how he literally met his end because of it says an actually lot how she took the things from this story and incorporate it into her next book.

The entire story had me retrospectively think hard how SJ voice is silent and yet to me at least he stills haunts the narrative because of it then when you get to the reveal about his backstory it makes you fucking think of him as an actual person and not just an object as a vehicle for the main character to just insert himself in because no matter the nature of a person it stills their body.

Like i've seen some fans even reflect this saying it not his fault that he transmigrated or he deserved it's technically his body and that he's a better person than SJ. At first, I agreed but then I took some time to process this. I don't care about SJ actions and his nature if it at the expense of his fucking body. SY can live for many many years but he's not SQQ unless he reincarnated like Airplane like it makes me want to me want to debates about transmigration. SY is his own person an adult with memories he has his own thoughts and feelings so when he transmigrated he took over the manual controls but that doesn't mean he's actually SQQ because he's not he's a pampered millennial.

In Otome Isekai (OI) stories, the original souls often face bad endings, while the transmigrators, who are modern characters inhabiting and thriving in these disliked bodies, desperately try to avoid such fates. They manage to charm the original male leads and are so focused on changing the story's trajectory that they can't accept its original path. This comparison to OI highlights how these characters' actions mirror Shen Yuan's (SY) predicament. The original person's identity and struggles are dismissed for the sake of the new character's journey, leading to the erasure of the original identity.

I don't vibe much with Shen Yuan because he seems very indifferent. The world revolves around him and his bias, much like many other transmigration novels where the MCs are similar. I find it hard to connect with a MC whose actions, even bold, lack a genuine foundation with other characters because they continue to see them not as people but character roles they're supposed to fulfill. He does everything to save himself, not from the sincere intention. His reaction to the death of GXY was cold af.

I don't like transmigration stories for this reason. They're often treated more as reader-inserts for fix-it fanfiction. We rarely learn about the characters' past lives, so we end up thinking of them as the person they transmigrated into, rather than who they were before. All we know of before was he was cyber-bullying and harassing the author and a troll so an asshole, basically.

If you guys don't know about OtomeIsekai basically we have bunch of modern day Koreans jumping into european white women bodies and inhabiting their bodies and living vicariously through them basically wish-fufillment bullshit trash . 9/10 nobody notices because this is a person who is widely disliked and despised and because no-one cared for the OG soul it easier to just go under the radar hell even the MC don't give a shit to so we have another MC that become so beloved in the eyes of the ML and how she bewitched everyone into loving her.

Transmigration is literal horror. " His Present" a short story I read from novel-updates where it literally based on this very concept where his loved ones preferred the imposter ugh made me bawl.

It makes me think about transmigration. Does it truly matter if the person who took over lived much longer than the original soul does that make them "THEM" ? I actually do appreciate SJ backstory being added but like now with transmigration just popping off on internet novels where the concept is everywhere where the original soul is discarded and the new one is celebrated, kinda adds a layer of tragedy and ethical dilemma to the narrative. It questions the validity of the new identity and the consequences of such an erasure. I'm always biased for the OG souls maybe that why a lot of SJ fics make him the character who is most suppressed by his role as scum villain succeed in making him heard to be listened to and mattered.

Imma nap lol this rant was loooong!!!

[pollux-starsz]

introduced my mama to @wyervan's slasher au, guess what

Shes insane for it just as i am (we're so swag) and EEEESSSHHH she is crushing on sun!!! Adores your art sososo much, said she eat it if it were cookies!!

Check the au out!!💗💓 stuff under the cut :3

Was doing a lot of whiteboarding lately! A ton of Kalamela stuff and whatnot, i love her sosos much.

Plus a fun art I did with @su-gu3 with their Slasher OC, Kilonova! I drew the two hanging out together and we're friends so we obviously had to make them be besties😆 they're hanging out while Kilonova crushes over Sun :3c

Yes I did have a vision of the slashy boys fighting over who gets the first dance, more on that below the art😋

Before the dance stuff, the last art piece is actually a much more like- i guess lore like piece hdodndod

The masks that Sun and Moon use plus the blood represents the killings. The heart represents Ethan, because she deep down adores that child.

(Even if she struggles to show it sometimes)

I have a feeewww other versions but they're not finished yet💔😅

Okay dance time! So Crystal Cove holds this little event every few months to raise money for charity ( the owners being a cute old couple aaugghhhh <3)

And Kalamela and basically all the other staff normally work that night to avoid any issues and also to raise support as well. She often doesn't dress up since she doesn't feel like it, that and also theres a few customers who are creeps- im actually writing about that and purposely making her beat their asses- and tries to just avoid the overall commotion and craziness! But the boys wont take no for an answer because she always spoils them so why not give her a night to have some fun eh?

More rambles below :3c

- I was thinking about this a lot but I think at some point she'd have to ask if Sun and Moon could let Ethan stay with them so he won't be witnessing a bunch of bullshit from his father, who sometimes comes over to her place just to start problems. I like to imagine she'll call them at least 30 minutes before he arrives and drives him over to their place to stay for a few hours until things calm down because she knows they'll take care of him!

- Kalamela isn't the type for romance movies, unless it's the Titanic, but I dont even know if that would be out in the very specific year the au takes place in considering it was released in 1997!! Either way😙 She often prefers horror movies and I think she'd really enjoy watching them with Sun, maybe its just so she has an excuse to cuddle up against him or just the thrill of watching some action! Who knowssss~

- She often lets Moon take Mango home for the night, he loves that parrot so much. Which usually gets an "Again?" from Sun because he always watches her whenever he gets the smallest chance.

- She definitely goes absolutely CRAZY on presents for holidays like Valentine's or Christmas for these two. I have a feeling she'd notice that they clearly didn't have the best childhood or ways growing up, and being in a similar situation because her family is extremely religious and she never had any freedom until she moved away, she often tries to make them happy and gets them as many gifts as possible. She spent all her money on them at on point and her only explanation was "I care for you guys a bit too much."

- cough wyervan ever since you mentioned that throwing a rock situation to get it through their heads that Kalamela loves them more than friends I can't help but imagine that she'd ask her friends about how to talk to them and her two friends, (Sprite and Eclipse, both guys, married gay men. They are extremely supportive. Would be great to have a beer with btw.) offer to help her, and eclipse throws a rock at both of them with a note attached to it while she just stands there in absolute shock that he actually aimed for their head. Oh and Sprite had to help Moon hold Sun back from beating his ass. Good times.

- I feel like at some point she would accidentally come across them killing someone and it results in this huge "oh shiiiitttt" moment from Sun and Moon as they drag her away into a more secluded area and then beg her not to tell anyone. (Even though her and Moon already talk about the killings, he still freaked) She doesn't rat them out because she is NOT getting slashed today, but often finds herself contemplating whether she should move and cut contact with them, despite the fact she loves them oh-so dearly!

[jsmainblog]

taking it slow - spencer reid ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

spencer reid x inexperienced!reader (established relationship)

requests are always open <3

❤️‍🔥smut

a/n: this is the first time i've ever written a smut like full oneshot which i wrote awhile ago so if this sucks im really sorry squad

warnings: 18+, fingering, mentions of sex

In the midst of your lovers absence (surprise! surprise! he has another case across the other side of the country!!!) you decided that you were going to have sex with him. The thought of it initially was shocking to you even. This abrupt decision was spurred on after chatting to your friend who was throughly shocked that Spencer hasn't gone past heavy makeout sessions with you and a little over the clothes groping (is this because he's a man or is this because you guys have been dating to the point where you guys having sex is assumed? you couldn't determine). So you decided you were going to get it over and done with. After all you were a virgin in every sense of the word even if you despise the concept of it. So flash forward a couple of days you lay in bed on your nightly phone call with Spencer.

"So is there anything else you wanna tell me about?" he inquires

"Yes" you declared

"Really now?"

"Yes really Spencer. I've decided that when you get back I'm going to have sex with you."

"Woah there sweetheart. Lets slow down a little okay? So over my 2 week absence you have came to this little revelation of yours?" he says sounding shocked and amused.

"Yes."

"Why? I mean like yeah I kinda understand that people do feel a need to have sex to be closer with one another even if its just us wanting to go through the actions of reproducing without consequences. But are you sure you want to do that its a little sudden don't you think?" he explains gently

"I do want to do it" you say insistently. His constant questioning is making you feel a little annoyed because you do want to do it with him. Why wouldn't you? But it also tugged at the strings in your brain that maybe Spencer wasn't attracted to you in that way and maybe thats why he's never brought it up before.

"We can do it if you really want. But why don't we work are way up to it, huh angel? I just want you to get comfortable before tossing you into the deep end. I don't want you to back out during the middle of it."

"Okay" you murmur. "What time do you land tomorrow?"

"Uhhhh..Should be around 10:30am. Anyways I imagine its getting pretty late for you so you should sleep. I love you y/n, I'll see you tomorrow, sweet dreams my love."

"I love you too Spence goodnight." You say into the phone before hanging up. So now you have a plan. A daunting one, but yet a plan none the less.

The next day transpired pretty normally. Spencer getting home from his case, having a power nap whilst you went about your life leading to a makeout session.

Spencer kissed you like a man starved, tongue tracing your mouth like he was committing it to memory which he most indefinitely was. If one day he showed up with a 3D model of the inside of your mouth you wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. You could feel your body temperature rising and a familiar throb from between your thighs. Spencer's hands rested on your hips rubbing them gently. When he pulled away a confused look crossed your face.

"Is there something wrong?" you stutter earning you a breathless laugh from him.

"No nothings wrong your just really pretty thats all, and I also wanted to ask if your okay with me touching you?" he confesses

"Um..Yeah more than okay..Uh" you breathe

"Don't be nervous baby just lift your hips for me yeah?" he says a bit amused starting to unbutton your jeans. It hits you suddenly. You're actually doing this ur breathing picks up but ur not scared actually ur excited very excited. Spencer practically mashes his mouth to yours as the jeans came off and were thrown somewhere across the room. He uses his thigh to nudge your legs apart.

"Mmmm i think pretty is an understatement when it comes to you angel" he jokes which illicts a shy laugh from you. He uses his thumb brushing over your clit. Your heavy breathing turns into whines and eventually little moans as you feel a warm slippery sensation forming.

"There we go, good girl" he mumbles "Well I think theres no use of these panties anymore they are throughly soaked. Lets get these off you yeah?" he questions before tugging at your panties. Your doing this with Spencer Reid. The Spencer Reid you thought as shy and timid when you first met him and now well he's doing this. You can't help but to look up at him adoringly. Before you know it the rubbing sensation continues only you can feel it a little more this time and now a new feeling of a weird stretch? You sit up a bit where you find Spencer's hand joining the junction of your thighs looking up at you with a sweet grin. From what you have heard from your girlfriends guy's liked to take pleasure from you to give to themselves not giving it to you, and you certainly haven't known someone who described someone looking at them so lovingly the first time they did it together. This reiterates the fact that 'woah Spencer really loves you.' which is confirmed by the building pleasure as another finger slips inside.

"You're doing so well baby, you're being so good." he breathes as his eyes flick from his hand to your face. "You doing okay there?"

"Uh huh very well" you moan

"Yeah I can see that"

After a while of his fingers pumping rhythmically the spring in your stomach snaps and you go weirdly squirmy as you feel a warm feeling trickle through your veins. Best feeling ever. Spencers fingers slip out as he wipes it on his leg and lays next to you softly kissing all over your face.

"You okay?" he questions his fingers tracing your arms gently.

"I love you" you say hoarsely which illicit a soft laugh from him.

"Yeah baby I can tell"

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

a/n: again guys im sorry if this was bad i myself was cringing a little writing this 😭

[macsimagines]

MAC!!!!!

can you give us some headcanons with Yandere photographer Hanma? I loooovvvee the concept of this big bad guy being an actual creep who can’t muster the balls to be face to face with you…

I think this is good?

MINORS DNI

WARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, STALKING, PANTY STEALING, CORRUPTION KINK

HANMA SHUJI

God life was so dull. Every day just the same thing over and over again. It was like nothing could stir that thing pumping blood in his chest.

No amount of fighting, or drugs or even fucking could stir some kind of emotion or feeling back into Hanma.

He tried to travel, but all those fucking valleys of nature just got tedious real fast, and people? They were the same no matter where he went. Petty, pathetic creatures all so self involved. And weak.

That is, until he saw you. Hanma had just been sitting in a cafe playing with the zoom on his camera when his lens had focused on your face. With a goofy ass smile plastered on your features, staring at down at your phone screen.

Something about the way you couldn't contain your joy made him... feel. The way the corners of you lips crinkled, the color on your cheeks, that twinkle in your eye. He wanted it.

His finger is capturing that moment before he can stop himself, and for whatever reason he can't stop the need to take more.

Hanma is headed straight for you, keeping his distance but his camera focused on your every move. And something fills his heart when colors start to flood into his eyes again.

Everything around you is brighter, and more vivid in a way that he never noticed before. Something about you brought life back into anything near your orbit. It brought back life into him.

Days pass and you, his new muse, are plastered over every surface in his apartment. He can't understand why he suddenly needs to have your light surround him, Hanma just knows he can't live without it.

You left your jacket one day. And he's coveting it like it's the most precious thing on this planet, holding it delicately in his hands. Sin and Punishment. Suddenly his hands feel so depraved touching something so... Holy.

He can't understand suddenly. This sick and depraved need to covet you and ruin you. To mix your perfect light with his very being, to feel you so skin deep inside of him. To be inside of you.

The jacket isn't enough anymore, he's breaking into your home and taking your things. Clothes, makeup, pillows...underwear. Everything that smells like you, that has your very essence clinging onto it. He needs it to state his beast, before he lets The Reaper take you completely.

But those aren't enough, the soft fabric of your panties against his aching cock, the smell and taste on his tongue becoming so addicting that he has to have the real thing. To worship it, to own it, to fucking ruin it.

Soon, Hanma is leaving you gifts. Photos of you sleeping, naked in the shower, you wandering oblivious down the street. From the camera he left in your room and how he can see the way you're terror stricken.

You thought he loved the way you smiled? It's heaven on earth watching you cry. These new emotions he's eliciting in you, he wants to see them all. Tears when he makes you cry, anger when he pisses you off, despair when he traps you with him, bliss when he makes you cum.

Hanma needs you, he has to have you and own you in every possible way.

"Its your own damn fault. You're fucking perfect."

[tiny-maus-boots]

A/N: i know its been so long! I'm sorry! I hope anyone still is waiting enjoys! Also as always thank you thank you thank you to @chloes-yellow-cup and @kimmania for always encouraging the wording. I love you awesome nerds.

Beca

“Now I've never played dress up before but I'm pretty sure it actually involves putting on clothes at some point…”

Not that she was complaining at all. Beca was firmly of the belief that a no clothes rule should definitely be enforced. Chloe trailed a fingertip down her spine as she circled around the necromancer. It made Beca’s knees weak and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound that would likely embarrass herself for all eternity.

Which could potentially be a thing when dealing with vampires. She wasn't yet sure how that worked exactly. She knew something was different about her now. And she wanted a second to process and explore the newness but what with the trauma, and the drama and the imminent doom, and all the sexy times it just didn't fit into her busy schedule.

“Just trying to decide what would look best on you.”

“Considering everything you pick out ends up on the floor I'm thinking you might not be the best judge.”

“It’s not my fault you look best naked in our bed, Beca.”

There it was again. Our. Beca tried to fight the smile that crept across her face but gave up when the cool length of Chloe’s body pressed against her back and arms wrapped around her.

“This is different when you're not using me to bait Aubrey into feeding.”

Chloe hesitated a moment before she dipped her head to brush a soft kiss over her bite mark. The brunette’s knees finally gave out on her and she probably would have collapsed into a puddle of Beca on the floor had Chloe's arms not been wrapped so securely around her.

“I can never express how deeply I regret the way that played out. I hadn't ever meant for her to feed on you, I just needed her to wake up and save you. Save all of us.”

“It’s okay, I don't mind taking one for the team on this. It was the right thing to do. Plus…I kinda liked it. Which makes me question all kinds of things about myself now so that's fun times to unpack.”

Chloe’s eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement and Beca had to blink past the heart eyes she knew she was giving. She cleared her throat and pointedly kept the vampire’s hands from roaming. If she let Chloe get handsy now Beca would happily let the world burn around them.

Chloe pouted at not being allowed to explore Beca’s lithe body. ”You’re no fun.”

”I’m fun. I can be lots of fun. I can fun your ass off. But also we kinda sorta have a rebellion to execute and an ancient vampire to heal. It’s the pits but on the other hand freedom is pretty amazing.”

”Chloe…are you certain this is in fashion? I know things have changed but this seems an obscene amount of exposed flesh.”

”I’m standing here almost naked and she’s the one complaining about being exposed?”

Chloe chuckled softly in her ear which helped her hormonal issue be exactly zero percent better. Beca lightly slapped at the vampire’s grip and extricated herself entirely so she could sift through the pile of discards for something she liked.

“Let’s see it Aubrey.”

”If you’re sure…”

They both turned as Aubrey stepped out of the closet in a dark red deep V halter dress that was slit to the hip on each side. She was bare from neck to navel and hip to ankle. Whatever article of clothing Beca had been holding fell from her suddenly numb fingers.

”Boobalas…” Beca’s eyes zeroed in on said target instinctively.

Aubrey looked down and covered her chest with her hands in an attempt at modesty. Chloe’s fangs lengthened and she stepped forward to gently tug blonde’s hands down.

”Oh I’m very sure about you in this dress. But you should take it off. For comparison reasons.”

Aubrey gave the redhead an exasperated look and turned toward the full length mirror with a critical eye. She turned back with a slight flourish and nervously fussed with the gauzy front panel of the dress.

“What do you think, Beca? Should I change?”

”I love leg.” Truthfully she loved everything Aubrey was showing off. “Chloe’s right, you should take it off and we should get in bed. Doesn’t have to be in that order of events.”

”You two…thank you. But we have work to do.” She let her own gaze drift over Beca’s mostly naked body and smirked. “I like your outfit.”

”Yeah I’m really rocking the wanton hussy sex slave vibe. But I still fail to see how this will help us in any way.”

Chloe held out a pair of tight low slung leather pants and a matching vest for her. Beca hummed a soft approving noise and held the pants up to her waist. They were more her style than anything else she had tried previously and she wondered how long Chloe had that outfit in mind for her despite making her try on everything else.

“Did you save these for last so you could watch me undressing?”

Chloe gave her an impish grin and shrugged innocently.

“It’s important because everything we do, say, and even wear means something. Aubrey isn’t dressed in fighting leathers, her heart is exposed. This says she either trusts the company she is in or she doesn’t view them as a threat. It will be the same with you exposing your neck and arms. I too will wear something revealing by vampire standards to show solidarity and unity with you both.”

”So it’s a power play?”

”Partially. Also it’s just hot. Very very hot.”

”So what are you wearing?”

”You’ll see.”

It intrigued Beca and she made a small sound of interest when Chloe ducked into the closet to change.

“Okay then. So question, what do we do if the Great Clans don’t want to join our Country Jamboree?”

Aubrey looked helplessly at the pile of makeup on Chloe’s vanity. She picked up a jar and sniffed tentatively at the contents before pushing it aside and picking up something else.

“Face paints have come a long way, I hardly know where to begin.”

“Yeah they no longer contain lead, wild concept, right?”

Beca smiled softly at the scene before moving closer to help. She had difficulty remembering that the vampire was still learning to adapt to modern times when she seemed so confident about who she was. But times like these, where she was unsure and vulnerable…they hit Beca right in the feels.

”Don’t worry. I got’chu, Horny.”

It was oddly intimate, applying makeup on Aubrey. It made it hard not to lean forward and kiss her and keep kissing her. Which would completely undo the work she was trying to do. Luckily Aubrey picked up the conversation as she sat patiently for Beca.

”In answer to your question, I don’t think it will come to that. They come here in search of their queen. They will follow you where you lead.”

Beca paused in the process of applying. She knew they were coming here to defend and protect her but it didn’t seem real. So much of her life had been solitary and not by choice. And now people she never met were riding to her rescue. What if some of them had doubts? What if some of them were as scared of her as the vampires were?

”Yeah…but what if they don’t?”

”It doesn’t matter if they don’t. I will follow you, Beca.”

Having the support of the queen of the vampires. What an insane thought. Beca put down the lip liner slowly and gently bumped foreheads with Aubrey.

”As will I and the rest of the free vampire nation.”

Beca and Aubrey turned at the sound of Chloe’s voice and froze. Chloe looked ethereal in a strapless deep blue gown of layered gauze embroidered with a delicate pattern of silver vines. She looked like an actual princess and Beca was robbed of the ability to speak.

”Well?”

”Wow…”

”Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”

“That’s a you look amazing wow. You look like a princess.”

Aubrey was too silent and Beca glanced at her trying to gauge her reaction to Chloe’s dress. Chloe smoothed the front of her dress nervously at the blonde's lack of response.

“You're starting to worry me, Bree. Is…is my dress not…”

“It’s perfect. You Chloe, are perfect. In every way.”

There was a soft look shared between them that held centuries of love and adoration. Beca didn't feel a part of it but she didn’t feel excluded from it either.

She thought that might feel awkward or out of place in a relationship with two people that had been in love with each other long before her ancestors were even born but she didn’t. It was comforting and she realized it was part of the reason she had fallen in love with them. If they could love each other that much, after everything they had been through, maybe they could love her forever too.

“So this is it? We're ready to face the Clans?”

“Not quite. Chloe, do you have my lock box?”

“Of course. It's in the safe behind Sal.”

Beca snorted of unsurprised amusement. “Of course you have a wall safe behind your minotaur's head. That's so Dracula campy.”

Chloe gave her a squint eyed look and went to retrieve the box. Aubrey watched the minotaur head warily, her lip curling slightly on reflex every time Chloe touched it. Beca couldn't help but chuckle at it.

“You really hate that guy.”

“He put a mark on Chloe. I would end every minotaur that walks for the insult.”

“Yikes. While I don’t disagree on the insult part we could maybe talk about this whole genocidal streak ya got going here. Turning over a new leaf, remember?”

Chloe placed a heavy metal box on the vanity between them and handed Aubrey a key. Beca reached out and touched the scarred, battered texture of the hammer marks and engraved runes.

“How old is this thing?”

“Old. It belonged to my mother. A gift from my father upon learning of my birth.”

Beca yanked her hand back immediately and gave the demon box a wary look. Aubrey fit the black glass key in the lock and twisted it. It clicked and popped easily as the tumblers dropped into place. Beca made an interested sound at the smooth movement even after all this time.

“Demon craftsmanship, am I right?”

The vampire lifted the lid with a reverent grace and removed a small leather pouch. Chloe inhaled sharply at seeing it and Beca wondered what she was missing. Aubrey shook the contents out and kissed the two rings that fell into her palm.

“When Harun and I joined and I was cast out of the Council, we created a new crest. One meant to be a symbol for a new way in a new world. I thought these ideals had died with him. But they live in you, Beca, because you, Chloe, kept them alive. It would mean a great deal if you each bore them now. Until we can create a new crest to symbolize our union.”

Beca reached for the larger of the two rings, surprised when it felt tingly and warm in her palm as if it recognized her. She traced a fingertip over the stylized M set in the top right corner of the shield design. M for Michile, her Clan of one. She couldn’t explain why that felt so significant now. She had been alone her whole life and it had bothered her, but now, now she was part of a legacy that had started with a man that shared her blood and wore this ring. Now, She had something to live up to. Now, she had a purpose.

Aubrey’s soft voice shook her out of her thoughts and she raised her head to look at the other women.

“Perhaps something of Chloe's choosing will complete the coat of arms?”

“Oh! Wait…I have…”

Chloe gave the ring she had slid on her finger another soft look of wonder and flipped open a satin padded jewelry box on the corner of her vanity. The vampire removed a small silk pouch and spilled the contents into her hand.

She smiled and lifted a delicate platinum herringbone link bracelet with a minotaur head charm with matching necklace and pendant. It was a perfect offering to symbolize Chloe.

“Can I fasten this on you?”

Beca blinked in surprise and nodded quickly. The necromancer handed her ring to Chloe to thread on the chain and lifted her hair out of the way. The new weight settled comfortably against her chest and she touched it with as much reverence as Aubrey had displayed.

Beca frowned slightly when she realized she had nothing to offer them in return. No token or symbol of who she was or what she may have accomplished in life. Aubrey felt the slight shift in her and reached out a pale hand to hers.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t have anything to give you guys. I never had something like this…I mean. I've never done anything to commemorate or anything. I'm only known for running away and the only things I own are that pile of clothes over there and a rusted out Chevy I bought off a redneck for half a bottle of Wild Turkey and a box of shotgun shells. I don’t have anything precious to give you.”

Chloe cupped her cheek gently, her thumb brushing over Beca’s jaw in a light caress.

“Beca, you are the gift you've given us. Your trust and love mean more than gold and jewels.”

Jewels. Beca reached up and touched the small stud in her ear. The only thing of real value she actually owned. A pair of diamond studs she had purchased from a real fancy jewelry store and not out of the trunk of someone's car. She had been so proud selecting them from the display and laying out her carefully arranged and smoothed bills on the counter. It had felt like she had purchased a toehold into a world she could only observe from the outside. It had taken two years of saving every cent she had but she had earned her wealth such as it was and wore it with pride everyday.

“Wait…” Beca removed each stud and held them out nervously. “I know it's not fancy or life altering but they're a part of me. A part of my struggle I guess.”

Chloe smiled softly and took a stud to pierce through her lobe without hesitation. Beca had to smile when the other woman sat down next to Aubrey at the vanity and started styling her hair in braided sections tight to her head on one side to display her earring openly.

Aubrey chuckled softly and took the other stud from Beca’s hand.

“Harun once made a similar speech to me. Only his fortune included a three legged goat named Hoppy that head butted him incessantly even as we exchanged vows. He traded from a butcher for a new cleaver because he couldn't bear to see Hoppy harmed.”

Beca rocked on her heels and laughed. Okay at least she was doing better than a three legged goat.

“Guess it's a Michile thing to be a broke bitch.”

Aubrey looked at her and blinked in surprise.

“I was going to say it is a Michile thing to share all that you have without restraint. That is who you are Beca Mitchell. That you give of yourself so willingly, down to your very blood, that is the most precious of gifts any could ask for. Chloe and I will wear this token of your bond with more pride than a bejeweled crown.”

“She’s serious about that. There's an actual crown in that demon box.”

Beca couldn't stop herself from the quick peek in the box despite the heaviness of the conversation.

“For real?”

Yep. That was a crown alright. It didn't look like anything Beca would ever wear. Mostly because she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a torture device. It was a delicate circlet of thorns from the same black glass the key had been made of, set with deep red rubies like fresh drops of blood.

It was beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Beca could feel an aura of magic around it that made her a little uneasy. She took a step back from the box and curled a hand around the ring around her neck. It pulsed coolly against her palm as if reminding her it was there with her. Beca focused on the faint tingle of energy and pushed it gently with her power.

The energy swelled and slid over her fingertips and settled into her skin with a familiar throb. Power rose in her, unbidden and unchecked, making both vampires start and stare at her. Beca could feel them all again. Every necromancer and elder from the Michile line, she could feel echoes of all of them. Magic she had never known or experienced filled her mind and body in an overwhelming and painful burst and she cried out seconds before her body locked and she dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks.

The pain ebbed as quickly as it had surged and she found herself cradled in Aubrey’s arms seconds before she passed out.