#actually now that i think about it it must be the floor specifically because there was a few clothes i had on the concrete also growing mol

[be-good-to-bugs]

oh wonderful, bc my floors are concrete theres sheets down on then and because my room is so humid theres mold growing on my whole floor. great.

[dadsbongos]

a king, his advisor, and the betrothed

@toxycodone the fic is here fren

11 K words / warnings - reader has vag n wears a dress once, threesome WOAH, p in v + p in a sex, oral (m receiving), kabru is a fan of inappropriate workplace relationships

summary - Laios cannot find a suitor on his own, so Kabru is forced to summon an old... friend... for help.

~~~

“Just… someone you would like, then.”

“Someone I would like?”

“Yeah! If you like them, they must be good, right?”

“This isn’t about… ugh, fine.”

Kabru already knew exactly who to set up with Laios, but he wanted to grant himself a few more hours of delusion by drafting a list of desired traits.

.

.

.

A queen should be: diligent and humble, wise and patient. Honest.

Ideally, a short-lived king should marry from another short-lived race. Any children will therefore be short-lived as well, which Kabru considers highly preferable. Another tallman is his best option to keep infertility sparse.

Laios’ personality will need to be accounted for as well (Kabru finds that the longer he dawdles, the more fun he has hypothesizing Laios’ perfect match).

Laios, specifically, needs someone blunt and unencumbered by conformity -- the man seems to thrive when others feel comfortable speaking frankly with him. Someone from another royal court will not do, and especially not someone descended from direct nobel blood. Furthermore, Laios is clueless as to what his own title ensues, so he does little more for his countrymen than make appearances or pass budgets and bills. So for Kabru’s own sanity, someone intelligent and inclined to make Laios do his actual job is also preferred.

They must balance indulgence and sobriety for the man’s antics, as well as willingness to sit through Laios’ obscure personality.

Wait…

“No,” Kabru scratches that last half of his sentence, ink bleeding across the page, “What kind of matchmaker settles?”

They must like Laios, and Laios must like them. Laios is not a man Kabru can envision enduring loveless marriage, it’d be too awkward and the dolt would have it annulled.

Someone not petrified by monsters and intrigued by Laios’ strange personality, but also not so deranged as to be exactly like Laios.

Again, a single name comes to Kabru’s mind, but this time he does not put it off. He’s had his fun scheming, now he must draft a letter to the Northern Continent. To a village chief’s firstborn -- acquainted well enough with basic politics while also sharing a similar upbringing with Laios.

You’re perfect.

You’re also…

“An ex-party member?” Laios’ eyes skim over the contents of Kabru’s summoning letter, addressed at the top to you, “Cool.”

“Yeah, an ex-party member,” Kabru sighs to himself, imagining Rin beating him over the head with her staff right about now, “I think you should know, I briefly- ”

“Kabru,” Laios shakes his head, grinning, “I don’t care. If you trust them, I do.”

Briefly -- sure -- if an entire year and some months was brief. Kabru sighs louder and decides to let Laios find out on his own, since the king is so determined to look cool and easygoing.

In any case, you’ll be fond of Laios, Kabru’s certain.

Certain, and also dreading.

Year 512

“Where’d you find the space case anyway?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look!” Rin flings a gloved arm straight out, gesturing heatedly towards where the party’s newest member is staring straight at the first floor’s cracked ceiling.

Both hands squeezing the straps of your pack, you leave your throat completely exposed in order to gaze at a dark, faraway roof. The ease with which Kabru could slit your tender neck is comical, he finds it more concerning than charming. Any hoodlum or hooligan could rob and beat you blind and you’d be incapable of a proper defense.

“Let me handle it,” Kabru hopes to placate Rin with a soft grin, its success is limited because Rin’s known him long enough to push through his gushy exterior. She puts up no fight, thankfully, and let him approach you alone, “Hey!”

“Shh!” you hiss cutting your fingers along your jaw to silence him. His shock and horror at your rudeness must be visible because you wave that same hand around and smile, “Sorry. It’s just…”

Pointing up, your stare returns to the ceiling. Eyes wide and lips curled with glee. Kabru heeds and grimaces: glistening slimes the shade of clovers goop between gaping slashes in the ceiling. Pulsating and shivering as one beating organ, Kabru can’t think up a more disgusting sight.

“Slimes are sensitive to the heat we exhale, so the louder you are the easier they can find you.”

Blinking at you as inconspicuous as possible, Kabru asks, “Why stand right under them then?”

“They’re so weird. They don’t look intelligent, but they move around easily and developed such a scary way to trap prey. Pretty neat.”

Kabru has half a mind to cut you out of the party just for saying that, until you tack on a,

“Still super gross, though. We should move before they notice us.”

Kabru nods, watching you cross towards the rest of the party before following with a silent prayer that you’re not actually a monster fanatic.

His prayers are answered on the second floor -- your party is down, Holm and Daya crumpled over on opposite sides of the tree den. Kuro is strewn over a shaking, teary Mickbell with a bloody gash in his back. Rin has a similar slash, only deep in her gut and Kabru can tell she’s bleeding out fast.

While he prides himself on his wit and light thinking, Kabru is horrified by the sight of his party in agony. Planning so far ahead of himself he’s trying to scheme how to charm a passing healer into aiding Rin or reviving Holm, meanwhile he can’t even be certain he’s going to survive this attack. His own life is on the back on his mind, body stiff in preparation to swing his sword and cut off the chicken head of a charging Basilisk.

But how should he cut? It has to have a carotid artery, or a heart, but where? What if his strike is at a wrong angle and the snake side gobbles you all up.

Suddenly, the glint of your sword blinds him -- you snip the snake in half, exploiting the monster’s following stagger to round its body and stab through the Basilisk’s head. Tearing outward and splattering Kabru in blood as the beast drops.

He looks to you in silence, knees sore and wobbly and hands a shaking wreck.

Simply, you say, “The snake head is the real head, so if you attack that end first the chicken tail is distracted and easy to sneak up on,” then, you notice his trembling, “Oh, sorry…”

As if waiting for permission, Kabru’s body gives out once your hands find his shoulders. You smooth a palm over his back while shredding the loose material of your blouse to mop up the mess. Gently soaking Basilisk blood from his face with a frown marring your face, continuously murmuring apologies.

Kabru takes your wrist in his hand, blinking back his shock to sigh, “Thank you.”

Suspecting there’s more words jumbled on his tongue, you patiently wait that way: knelt beside Kabru as he squeezes your wrist.

“I think we should go back to the surface.”

You nod quickly. Much quicker than he’d assume you would given how directly you dealt with the terrifying Basilisk, “Do you want me to head back and get corpse retrievers? I doubt we could carry everyone up by ourselves.”

He takes note of how you specifically exclude Mickbell, presumably due to the young man’s hysterics.

The sharp tang of raw iron is filling Kabru’s nose, he chokes on it. He can’t stand to smell it a second more.

“No,” but inhaling through his mouth makes him taste it, rotting each bud on his tongue, “No. I’m the party leader, I should get them.”

Your eyes are lidding, no shock or awe found in the twinkle of your iris -- you were expecting this response.

“Sure, Kabru, I’ll wait with Mickbell.”

You don’t call him out on it, though.

Once the party has been revived and Kabru’s thrown the men their coins, you suggest the crew return a floor above.

“I’m sure nobody wants to eat where they died, so let’s have lunch up there and save instead of visiting a stall,” you gasp quietly and cover your mouth, then deferring to Kabru, “If that sounds good to you? Sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly like that…”

“No, you’re right,” even though he’s not looking to confirm, Kabru can feel Rin burning holes into his skull with her glare, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Secretly he’s glad no outsiders heard you make that call -- he isn’t ashamed to be bossed around by someone in a blouse, but he’s also not unrealistic. Others seeing that could threaten his meager status among the adventuring community. He’d be the wimp pushed around by his own members.

Interrupting his spiral, again, is you, “Okay, let’s get going then!” you clamp another hand over your mouth, “Right, Kabru?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it is just your party who only finds your zealousness comedic rather than an opportunity for mutiny.

Returning visit to the first floor proves you about as useful as the initial one did.

Holm and Daya are unpacking rations with Mickbell and Kuro straggling at the edge of the blondes’ conversation. Rin is fetching water. Kabru is watching you; and he knows he should be either helping Rin, or lecturing you to help Rin, but he keeps watching.

He cannot hear you, but he knows you’re speaking -- crouched to make eye contact with a pair of slight humans. Round cheeks and marblesque eyes tell Kabru they’re just scratching at maturity. Not even thirteen.

The shorter one, a boy with freckles, picks at tender plumes of skin around his nails, knees shaking. He finds no voice, but the girl beside him does. She squeezes the shirt over her heart and her brows furrowed with passion, he can barely make out the words: mage, fourth, corpse retrievers.

One of your hands is perched on your bent knees while the other grazes along the forsaken graveyard, your head tilts and if he really forces his ears then Kabru can hear you ask, “How did you get separated?”

The girl’s shoulders go lax, lip twitching down as she sputters a reply. The boy’s picking grows frantic, his head shaking and voice shivery (this time Kabru can pick up: without her, no chance).

Kabru’s gaze hones on you, dissecting each twinge in your face as you process the information. Daya and Holm’s voices become vague, like buzzing insects, even Rin’s agitated staring from the fountain is pushed out of focus. How will you react to these children?

It's a horrible story, he’s sure. He’s so sure it’s a truly heartbreaking tale about two little ones separated from their ward on a lower level due to a snap decision from fear. However, it could also be just that: a story.

Criminals banned from The Island’s coasts often seek refuge in the bowels of the dungeon. Kabru feels confident that as this dungeon continues to fester unconquered: criminals are beginning to raise their children here.

If you blindly follow them down, you’re a fool. If you hand over all your party’s gold, you’re a fool. If you do nothing, you’re heartless. Heartlessness can be worse than foolishness, at least fools have good intentions.

Fingers wrap around the stem of a limping flower and pull, cutting it clean from the floor and holding the plant for both children. You push your hand closer to the kids, waiting until the girl grasps the flower before speaking again,

Something long winded, and judging by the shudders racketing down the boy’s frail body something rather dismal too. Yet you’re beaming up at the children, then they’re smiling as well. Rising to your feet, you brush moss stains from your knees and wave the children off with a promise Kabru can actually hear,

“If my party finds any retrievers, we’ll send them down.”

With eager nods, the kids sniffle and affirm their bravery to you -- the girl cradling the plucked daisy to her chest. You return to your party’s camp and boldly declare,

“I think we should try reaching the fourth floor soon.”

Rin bonks you with an elbow to the side, “Where’s this enthusiasm when I needed help carrying the water?”

Rubbing the tenderized area, you laugh and accept her frustration, “Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Obviously,” Rin sighs, falling to her knees around the party’s temporary camp.

Kabru sits as well, still observing as you apologize to Rin again though your eyes trailing the kids as they heft food packs onto their shoulders and begin their trek.

Mickbell settles into Kuro’s lap, Daya has begun digging into her plate while Holm ensures everyone has a filling portion. Rin agrees to dissolve the tension, meaning you two can begin gaffing amongst yourselves. As if you never left, the party is normal.

Despite your itch to reach the fourth floor as soon as possible, you don’t mention the interaction whatsoever.

Overall, Kabru considers your first dive with the party a cohesion success.

Year 515

“Don’t speak over or interrupt. Got it?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious,” Kabru’s eyes widen a smidge, as if to force how pertinent it is that Laios absorbs this lesson, “I’m still upset about the meeting last week.”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t done talking,” Laios frowns, shrugging in an obnoxiously coy play, the worst part being that Kabru knows Laios does it in earnest. His stupid kicked-puppy stare is entirely genuine, “That guy takes long breaths, it’s hard to tell when he’s done.”

“Well try harder to tell now,” a wave of guilt hits Kabru in the chest, heart squeezing at the sight of Laios’ frown deepening, “I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I want this to go well.”

“I do, too, you know?”

Kabru finds that hard to believe, but Laios isn’t lying to him right now. He’d know otherwise. Whether Laios can make a positive impression will have to be seen, but the man clearly has no intentions of sabotaging himself.

For all his lackluster socio-political ambitions, Laios is still a good king: insightful to the experience of commonmen and quick to new ways of strengthening their country. He has yet to give citizens, or Kabru, valid reason to question his ability to rule.

“I’m sure,” Kabru turns in his desk chair, bracing his forehead with his palm, “Let’s get this finished then.”

“But- “ Laios hesitates when he’s shot an icy glare from Kabru, “But I’m so hungry…”

As if to punctuate his torment, Laios’ stomach grumbles. Loudly. Echoing through the informal setting of Kabru’s personal quarters.

“My poor royal majesty,” Kabru coos, inked with sarcasm, “Will you survive till lunch?”

Laios’ eyes go thin, arms folding, “Don’t demean me.”

“It’s one meal. You’ll hardly die. The faster we finish this paperwork, the quicker we can usher you to breakfast.”

“I want to go now,” Laios, with no sense of self, lays his lips into the crook of his advisor’s neck. Soft, plump flesh scorching Kabru’s pulse, then a cold flash of bone: teeth, “I’m starving.”

Bladepoint canines puncture Kabru’s skin, shock blinding him to the scathing scratch till after Laios has already pulled away. Saliva stringing them together before Laios snaps it, sloppily swiping the wrist of his sleeve across his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Kabru starkly avoids eye contact by glaring at the sheen of spit on his shoulder, cupping the inflamed flesh, “Go change your shirt now, it’s not a handkerchief.”

He doesn’t remember when he first felt comfortable being so venomous around Laios, only that it's easier than trying to be pleasant all the time.

“After I eat?” Laios prompts.

“After you eat,” Kabru massages his tensing temples, working away the headache as it builds.

Upon Laios’ exit, Kabru traces the shallow indents with his fingertips -- lashes fluttering against his cheeks at the resulting faint sting. Now he’ll be forced to find a new shirt of his own, one that hides his bruising mark.

Year 513

“As long as we don’t piss off any living armor, we should be able to get to the fourth floor, at least,” you nod to yourself, hands steady and body firm as you hold up your homemade map of the area.

Raucous groans follow your cheery assessment, and a cursory glance back shows your party in disarray: Rin and Holm have heavy, discolored bags beneath their eyes. Daya is leaning against her axe with quaking arms while Mickbell coils around Kero’s shoulders. Even Kabru can admit he looks worse for wear, or assumes he does because he certainly feels at his worst.

“Oh, unless you all want to head back?” you roll the map up and wave a hand dismissively, almost seeming ashamed of the previous suggestion. Cautious to maintain a soothing and even tone, clearly doing your best to prevent any of them from feeling coddled or mocked.

Not that he truly wants to, but Kabru agrees, “Probably for the best. We’re running low on food, so we should save what we have for the journey back.”

“Makes sense,” you don’t appear disappointed or discouraged, “There’s always next time.”

“Enough optimism,” Mickbell whines, “It’s making me all nauseous.”

“Be nice,” Rin chastises, then looking at you forlorn, “You could probably carry on without us.”

Her dejected lilt prevents any accusations of wanting you to go it alone.

“No way, I’d go crazy by myself!”

Kabru reads that instantly as a lie -- if your scrunching brows and fidgeting hands weren’t telling enough then perhaps you don’t remember confessing to him your days as a solo adventurer.

You could easily carry on without the rest of the party. Hell, you could even join a better, stronger party -- the Toudens, maybe. They’d chomp at your skills if they cared even a little about their fellow men. Kabru bets you would even be able to form a party of your own with ease.

“We’re strongest when everyone’s at their best, after all,” you reassure, turning your back on the dream to hit fourth floor this crawl in favor of aiding your party’s exhaustion, “As long as we can go that deep eventually, I’ll die happily.”

Kabru doesn’t bring up how rapidly approaching the date for you to sail back home is, he gets the sense you wouldn’t want him to.

“Well don’t go keeling on us as soon as we do,” Rin’s scowl loosens, only slightly, when you smile in return and loop an arm through hers.

“Of course, not, Rin. Who else would terrorize you if I died?”

Quickly, the mage’s dark eyes flick to Kabru before returning to you, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, duh.”

Her gaze lingers on the way you’re staring at Kabru and how Kabru stares back. She must read his fondness because her forehead wrinkles up and she tugs you forward, “Yeah, duh.”

Year 515

Kabru’s foot taps impatiently, knowing it’d be improper were he to rush over and help you down from the carriage himself. But forgive the man, he’s in a hurry to have you at his side again.

He wonders if you wear the same perfume.

He wonders if you’ll take to Laios immediately, or will it take the entire two weeks before your wedding ceremony for you to warm to him?

Most of all, he wonders if he can compose himself during the entire courting process.

“Hey!”

Kabru’s mind snaps back into the present at your call, you’re charging over with an ecstatic wave. He waves back, calmer and centered towards his chest.

“It’s great to see you again!” you effortlessly knock the polite handshake Kabru extends aside to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Imagine my surprise, the first time you send a letter is to try and marry me to a king!”

“I never found the time to write back when things finally got interesting,” Kabru bluffs, returning your hug. Warmth spreads between the both of you, if he focuses hard enough he can make out the dull thud of your heart, “Hopefully this makes up for it.”

“Definitely,” you pull back, rolling your eyes, “Father made my brother village chief while I was on The Island, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do there.”

“Perfect time to get one up on your brother. Even just marrying into royalty is better than village chief.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Let’s meet Laios Touden first. I remember he was kind of a weird guy, no?”

“He still is,” Kabru shrugs, turning to guide you into the main hall as men lug your bags towards the castle’s south wing, “He’s nice, at least. Wants to make living easier,” he glances back at you over his shoulder, “Handsome, too. You must remember what he looks like.”

“I remember he was big.”

“Strong, yeah,” Kabru slows to match paces with you through the rolling corridors, “Nice jawline, pretty eyes, and the slope of his nose isn’t terrible. He’s kind of an outstanding specimen, physically I mean.”

“Oh…” you press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at his rambling, “So his looks do the heavy lifting?”

“Just something to keep in mind,” he pauses outside a set of tall double doors, one hand braced against the hanging, solid black handle, and the other drawing circles into his temple, “His unique personality hasn’t faded with becoming king.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s a word for it.”

Laios is slumped comfortably back into his throne, sunlight complimenting his bored expression before he notices the pair pushing through his grandeur. Immediately, his eyes sink into you, scrawling from the top of your head to your feet in blatant observation. Staunchly, his gaze remains respectful to your modesty, indicating he’s purely sizing you up; perhaps confirming whether or not he could take you in a fight. Or to use you as a meager replacement for his monsters, studying your anatomy and mentally attaching tails and horns and heads where he sees fit.

“King Laios,” you politely remain behind Kabru. Your own gaze lurches over the king’s body as well, much less clinical than his examination -- you already know you could take him in a fight. What you want to imagine now, is if he’s the outstanding specimen that Kabru claimed, “So nice to see the Golden Kingdom for myself.”

“Prettier than the North,” Laios, much to Kabru’s unspoken irritation, scratches the back of his head without grace, “You’re from there too, right? How has it been? I haven’t been in awhile.”

“Oh, you know,” none of the men from your village look like Laios, despite their hard labor they aren’t built like him. Big. Beefy. Chewable also comes to mind; you could chew him up and be full of protein. From the little pouch of his stomach you surmise he isn’t cut or excessively defined, which drives you mad, “Same as usual. Cold and quiet.”

“Mhm. How about the monsters up top? I don’t think anybody from my village was willing to slay them,” he folds his arms, legs spreading as he readjusts for comfort, head ticking curiously, “I’ve been thinking lately that they could be overrun by monsters if nobody fights them off.”

Kabru’s irritation grows, having to claw at his thighs to restrain from choking the man. He may be older and bigger and more powerful than Kabru is, but Laios is the most painfully oblivious man in the world. He just has to be. He’s so focused on not attacking his king that Kabru almost misses how eyes scald his side at the mention of monsters overtaking the North.

“I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” and you mean that, the North truly is as boring as it was when you were growing up, “Maybe more acceptance for magic, but that’s mostly to combat the increase in ghosts.”

“Increase in ghosts,” Laios’ eyes bulge, posture straightening out in vivid excitement, “Do they know why there’s so many? Do they just wander around, or do they remain in cemeteries?”

“Ah, King Laios,” you try to hide the way your eyes bounce repeatedly towards Kabru’s rigid frame. His hands are balled, even shaking, and his stare is aimed over the king’s right shoulder, “Perhaps we could get some privacy before discussing such things?” you boldly step forward, correctly assuming Laios would take no offense at the intrusion, “We should get to know each other on our own.”

“Oh, right!” Laios waves a dismissal towards Kabru, apologizing for holding the man so long.

You don’t ask Kabru if he’s okay before he leaves, but you take one of his hands and squeeze it gingerly. Smiling tenderly and bidding him well. A soft halo of gold ringing around your head from sunlight pouring through glass panes.

“Don’t let- ” just as he’s apologizing for his king, you silence Kabru.

“I’ll form my own opinion,” you release his hand, still grinning, “You trust me, don’t you?” he nods, of course he does, “So trust me to gather my own thoughts, okay?”

Oh, God that cannot be a good sign.

Please, please, please -- he’s contemplating getting on his knees to pray outside the doors -- please don’t let his reaction to Laios’ monster obsession make you hate the king. You’re his only choice, the only one that will do!

You’re kind and strong willed and beautiful and he’d love to have you living under the same roof as himself.

Not that that has anything to do with his decision. No, no, that would be idiotic.

That would be the worst plan he’s ever planned in his entire life. So, he’s glad it's separate from his real motivation.

At least, he’s glad until that night. Alone in his bed with only moonlight shining along his pristine sheets.

For hours Kabru has been cooped in his room, and technically he’s been cooped in his mind even longer. Since the second a passing pair of guards relieved him from lingering outside the throne room, Kabru blindly stumbled through his messy thoughts.

Worse now than ever before is the desperation to know. Clawing him apart from the inside out. He needs to know.

To know what you’re feeling. To know what’s being said. To know why you two never came out, even hours after Kabru left. In explicit detail, he must know. What you like about Laios, what you don’t, what you find attractive, if you got hot in the face when you saw him, if you ever felt that way about Kabru, if you think Kabru’s attractive, if you accepted his invitation just because Kabru sent it or because you truly wanted to meet Laios.

He can’t just ask, so now he must meticulously set up a series of precision events to fish the information out.

Because your hesitance to emphatically accept the proposal confuses Kabru. You’ve never been particularly picky about partners, but you’re not the type for manufacturing attraction to spare a person’s feelings. So theory one is that Laios is not physically appealing to you.

Though not even that explanation makes sense. To be short, Kabru doesn’t understand how you couldn’t be attracted to Laios. Such strong, determined features demanded attention; and trust, the attention would be positive.

Broad shoulders and meaty thighs, Laios’ build is admirable on its own: Kabru could sink his teeth into Laios’ bicep and never cut bone. Aside from that is the healthy fluff of blonde hair his king keeps trimmed, as well as his face. Remaining clean shaven gives an air of proper hygiene and self-sufficiency that makes Laios seem more attractive.

Kabru cannot fathom how you’re not preparing vows yet.

That thought makes him shoot up in bed, eyes wide and a hand curled into his churning gut.

Why can’t Kabru fathom how you’re not preparing vows? Why does he find it so peculiar?

That type of questioning, this obsession -- it implies Kabru wants to prepare vows, doesn’t it?

With ragged grumbling Kabru collapses back into his mattress, letting his fried brain melt through his ears as he finally attempts giving in to sleep.

…

He wakes to a nightmare the next morning -- you and Laios are alone in the great hall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the end closest to the kitchen. Chairs pushed so close the armrests are peeling against each other, elbows knocking as Laios forgoes all table etiquette. Not once do you scold or demean him. Instead seeming too engrossed at the ear-nibbling of shapeshifter trivia Laios is laying down.

“Did you ever run into one?” Laios asks, eyes a little too glittery for someone who must’ve woken quite early for this private breakfast, “My dad had our dogs follow herds so we could spot them in the flock.”

“Dogs can tell which sheep are fakes?”

“Oh, yeah! Dogs can tell by the smell,” Laios taps his nose, “I wonder what the difference is, don’t you? Do they smell more sweet, like dirt? Or do they have no smell at all since their illusions?”

“Maybe a Kobold would be able to tell you? Their anatomy is dog-like, after all.”

“I thought so, too! But there’s not many Kobolds native to the North.”

“Well, hopefully you can find out one day,” then you bite for more monster facts, “I did always wonder what my own shapeshifter could look like. Don’t they read people’s minds to make their copies?”

Laios’ silverware clatters away, tinking loudly on the glass plate, hands flexing hysterically, heart jumping to his tongue, “They do, they take other people’s interpretations of you to confuse your company into keeping it around.”

“How thrilling,” you muse.

“It’s a shame I’ll never get to see or make another one,” he lifts his fork, pushing meat and eggs around his plate glumly, “Would’ve been fun to see what you look like in my memory compared to the real thing.”

“You can tell me now,” your palm bares his shoulder, leaning over your chair and towards his own. Laios’ honey eyes dip, tracing the shape of your lips which makes you lean even closer, “How is it that you see me, Laios? Would I be flattered?”

“I hope so,” he blurts.

Kabru backs away, rattling door hinges before slumping back into the corridor. Rotten thoughts of how lovely you are corroding his brain. You’re so lovely to nip at your betrothed’s interest wholeheartedly, no matter how unconventional.

You’re so lovely it's all consuming.

You’re so lovely he can’t remember when or why, exactly, he fell in love with you.

You’re so lovely he thinks he might have just always been your emotional pin cushion.

There remains to be a single thing Kabru could name that made him fall in love with you.

Kindness is much too bland of a trait. And you wanted the wellbeing of others, but that’s something Kabru expects from people. You are pretty, but that’s no reason to daydream about buying a house together. Perhaps it was a combination of all three that mixed lethally well with how much time you spent together.

That, with how detrimental party romances are to group fallouts, maybe made you more desirable? Could that be it?

You were a new, fascinating person he couldn’t pick apart as soon as he gazed upon you, and you knew exactly how to swerve his expectations. You loved listening to him mutter about the interlocked nature of humans: one man cheating on his wife in Kahka Brud undoing a port in Melini. But you stepped away from interpersonal Island gossip. You could rattle out seven variations of man-eating plants but couldn’t stand to even look upon the vegetation without grimacing.

Approachable with a thin smile and batting lashes, beautiful and quiet. Very quiet. You hardly ask anything of others. It should make you seem ominous or menacing, but no part of him feels endangered by you.

Kabru always felt so comfortable around you that, despite knowing his other party members longer, he found you the easiest to converse with. Before he could realize himself, you’d crawled over so many emotional walls without letting him bypass a single one of your own.

You’re his worst nightmare, he craves you more than oxygen.

Year 513

The tavern door opens with an outrageous squeal. If the mood were different, then you would probably make a humorous remark about the aged hinges. But the mood isn’t different. Things are tense and he just wants to go home now.

Even twinkling stars blink away to avoid giving his humiliation anymore attention. Moonlight rudely oozes over you both, though, reminding him how much he prefers the sun. The moon always seems to follow him when he’s whirled in his worst turmoil.

You step into the tavern first, holding the cranky door open for him. He’d thank you like the upstanding young man his mother raised… if only the mood were different.

Silently, Kabru trails behind you, cheeks blistering hot and palms moist, with his head bent. You two make it back to the table circled by your party, sans Daya due to a more pressing engagement with her fiance. Rin’s perma-scowl cracks briefly into blatant shock at his slouch before schooling herself into re-wrinkling her face. Confusion curling into the folds of her glabella.

“What happened?”

Per usual, you answer for Kabru, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” anger seems to flash briefly over her for a moment, a spasm so minute only Kabru can spot it, “Really?”

He’s not surprised she’s upset about him, shamefully, trying to woo you during a night out with the party. What surprises him is that her anger is solely directed at you.

At least until you nod firmly, “Nothing happened, Rin.”

Then pity laxes her irritation, she spares Kabru a flicker of eye contact before mumbling an ‘okay’. She ends up remaining largely silent for the rest of the night, only extending responses when directly prompted.

What else surprises him is the ease with which you lie. Something happened, just not how he wanted it to play out.

Maybe he didn’t notice because of his drowned mood, but Kabru swears you didn’t exhibit any of your usual tells when you spoke.

(the fact he harps on your physical tells will make him so mad he cries later tonight)

Year 515

“He’s going to burn their ear off, I’m telling you…” Marcille grumbles.

“I think it's cute,” Falin grins.

“Of course, you do,” Marcille sighs, though smiling fondly at the girl while scritching around her plumage. Falin chirps happily and nuzzles into Marcille’s shoulder, “He’s your brother, you never think he’s as weird as he is.”

Kabru speaks boldly, which he knows is unlike himself but he’s so eager to show that he knows you more than them that he cannot stop himself, “They can bond over the monster talk, at least.”

“Are they even into monsters?”

“Kind of?” he backtracks, realizing that he isn’t sure how to answer her question, “They hate monsters, but they know a lot.”

“Good on you for finding someone like that, then,” Marcille shrugs, “They might actually have a good marriage.”

Kabru tenses, even though he shouldn’t (because he knows why you’re here, so he can’t exactly get depressed when other people bring it up), “Yeah. They will.”

“For a while, I thought you’d marry my brother,” Falin says suddenly. Eyes sharp on Kabru’s figure.

Marcille guffaws, “Why would you say that?”

She shrugs before letting her eyes relax to their usual serene state, “They get along well. And Laios likes him. Laios doesn’t usually like people.”

“I guess you have a point,” Marcille waves a figurative flag before gesturing to the room around them, “But we’re not planning their wedding.”

“Yeah…” Falin sighs like she’s the one most disappointed.

Kabru says nothing, only returning to the list of ale and wine suppliers eager to vend for the upcoming royal wedding. His eyes skim names he’s heard various reviews for, but his brain takes none of them in. Rather, he’s fixated on what Falin said.

She could see it?

Could they have gotten married?

If Kabru forgot you completely, or even better never met you, could it be him stepping up to the altar? Would Laios have him?

Laios doesn’t usually like people. but in crowded meetings, it's solely Kabru that Laios searches for. And it’s the sight of Kabru that makes Laios sigh in relief. And it’s the sound of Kabru’s voice that Laios waits for before delivering a response.

At dinner, back when they ate together before you monopolized mealtimes, Laios always ensured Kabru had twice his fill before calling it a night.

(“Even though we’re not fighting in a dungeon anymore, I still think you should retain your strength.”

“You sound like you just like watching me eat.”

“Maybe that, too. You have a nice mouth.”

Kabru never responded to that, too petrified over the implications. Now he thinks he probably should have, maybe it would have meant he’d be marrying a king.)

Falin was right in that Laios doesn’t take to people easily, and he’s sure that’s all she meant. But Kabru knows that her statement is a criminal oversimplification of Laios.

Laios likes people so much he’s gone on potentially endless, potentially fruitless, endeavors for them. Laios likes people so much he makes them harpy eggs because they seem minorly interested in monster cuisine. Laios likes people so much he makes sure they’re treated with the utmost dignity. Laios loves people, and suddenly the thought of you becoming one of those select people is getting harder to grieve.

Laios’ love is not limited, but now Kabru’s forced to come to terms with the fact that Laios’ romantic love for him is--

“So, did you pick yet?” Marcille and Falin are swatching fabrics from the cushy loveseat of the main library, “I’ve heard of a roach outbreak in Smisson’s breweries, so I hope you didn’t get attached.”

Kabru jolts upright and shakes his head, saying the first dumb thing he can think of, “I heard of that, too.”

Falin giggles, “He’s the one that told you about it, Marcille.”

“Huh? You’re kidding!” a furious blush overtakes the elf, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot that!”

Kabru shakes his head again, swallowing roughly, “It’s fine.”

Really, it’s all fine.

Year 513

“Everyone wanted to be here,” Kabru chuckles quietly, as if raising his voice could somehow wake the entire Island.

“I’m sure,” there’s no hint of sarcasm in your voice, “They were with me late last night, so… I didn’t really expect anyone to see me off,” you giggle softly, a hollow sound he doesn’t take very kindly, “I’m surprised you made it.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you gave the party,” with no decorum he scratches the back of his neck, and avoids looking you in the face, “It’ll be harder in the dungeon without you.”

“I believe in you.”

His breath hitches. He looks at you. A barely-there smile and tired eyes. It may be the most honest he’s seen you. He’s tempted to ask how you meant that ‘you’, but doesn’t.

He doesn’t even speak until you’re boarded -- until he’s forced to raise his voice so you can hear him over a bustling crew and fellow passengers.

“If I send letters, will you read them?” Kabru silences you before you can open your mouth, “Will you respond?”

Then, you’re smiling wider, and your eyes are tight with joy. It isn’t the usual siren cant of droopy lids, it’s pure elation. You’re laughing at his question, shoulders bouncing gleefully. You’re nodding. You speak between chortles, as if he asked you what color the sky was.

“Of course, I will!”

You look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you before.

“Okay, I’ll write you, then.”

“You better!”

Your ship rocks as it sets off from the dock, but you don’t disappear beneath the ridge. In fact, you almost hang over it, torso flattening against wood and nails digging for purchase as you wave.

Kabru waves back. He runs down the dock like a fool, barely catching himself from tumbling into the lapping ocean.

“Bye, Kabru!” you’re still smiling, bathed in soft orange and soothing yellow -- your voice grows distant over crashing waves, “I’ll miss you!”

He keeps waving. He waves and he waves and he doesn’t stop until your ship is behind the horizon. Only then does his hand fall to his side, eyes sopping wet and chest squeezing.

He feels pathetic.

He misses you already.

Year 515

Days prior this morning, the grand hall was cleared out -- pews replaced the needlessly long cherry oak dining table. Flowers plotted in tall carved vases with white lace and silk choking the necks, a velvet track from the altar through open doors to the courtyard. People from across the continents were invented, diplomats to friendly nobles to acquaintances Laios does not remember to true friends to your father and brother and Falin.

(“You don’t want to invite your parents?” Kabru re-evaluates his list of guests, “Seems uncouth, no?”

“What do I care?” Laios’ legs are splayed, thighs pressing against either side of the gold throne, “A wedding is meant to be happy, why would I need people I don’t like there?” he knocks a fist back into Kabru’s chest, letting his knuckles linger over the man’s heart only as long as he can say, “I have you, and my betrothed, and my friends. Really, that’s all I need.”

“It’d be rude to- ”

“I get it,” Laios’ hand falls back onto his armrest, fingertips skimming the rounded metal edge, “This is why I’m leaving it to you, I trust you.”)

Out of all the tedious preparation, dressing Laios was the most tragic in that the king hated everything the handmaids and servants stuffed him in. Countless hours were wasted before they begged Kabru to help, only then did the king settle:

No crown, terminally unsurprising, since Laios abhorred the weight and feel of it on his head. Rather, he would adorn himself with that dreadful Winged Lion’s pelt, and a vermillion cotehardie reaching mid-thigh with gold trim. Leather belt tethered around his waist gave the fabric shape whilst holding up loose britches. Daggered teeth of various beasts lined his neck, which Kabru was privy to each and every complaint over the sensory nightmare they provided. He’s sure as soon as Laios can, he’ll be tearing the necklace off.

Dressing himself, regardless of Laios’ multiple emphatic encouragements, was a similar exercise in disaster:

It felt massively inappropriate to wear something so shiny and attractive as gold on another man’s wedding night, even as Laios insisted Kabru wear whatever he pleased. Still, Kabru chose silver earrings and accents. Sparkling and flattering, yes, but nothing so bold. He did splurge with a sapphire blue kirtie that made his eyes shine brighter, and a simple chain of pearls. He felt attractive, and joyous.

Joyous for tonight. Joyous for a wedding! Yes, simply so ecstatic for tonight’s marriage.

Truthfully, Kabru is so overjoyed for his king, he really could just fucking die.

From joy. And happiness.

Because what makes it even better is how you look happy. Actually happy. No low gaze or siren simper, just pure, carefree merriment as you link hands with Laios. Reciting vows from a flushed, teary-eyed Marcille. Neither of you has that gleam or honeydew sparkle of pure love, but Kabru is good at his job: zero doubt swims in his mind that you two will be a pair truly enamored with each other.

His misery must be unfiltered in the back of the grand hall, far behind the rest of the wedding party, because Rin’s dark eyes are piercing through the side of his skull. She’s frowning up at him, arms folded.

She murmurs, “You should’ve said something.”

Kabru grins at her sardonically, “I should’ve broken up their engagement? You didn’t even like us interacting when they were in our party.”

“That’s- !” her cheeks stain red, an annoyed huff rattling her whole body, “They never told you why they rejected you, right?”

Kabru’s silence is answer enough. It’s also more unsettling to Rin than any dungeon monster she’d encountered.

“They knew that I wanted you,” Rin clears her throat, embarrassment trying to choke her into silence, but she overcomes it for the sake of her friend, “So, out of respect, you were refused and never told why.”

Kabru loves Rin, as a sister. He loves her so much he’d kill for her, because she’s like his sister. He loves her so so so much that he cannot even be mad at her, because part of him always considered her somewhat to blame for your rejection of him.

For an agonizing, silent few seconds, Kabru just stares down at her with those crystalline eyes. Blinking himself from his stupor, Kabru asks the dumbest question he could think of, “Did they want to say yes?”

Rin’s frown deepens, forehead wrinkling, “Is that something you really want to know?”

Laios is a terrible kisser, and out of respect you cover your mouths with a hand as he maps out your lips with eyes clenched. Kabru told him not to close his eyes too early, and naturally Laios did not listen. Thankfully you’re there, hiding Laios’ possible humiliation with one hand and guiding him with your other on his jaw.

“No,” Kabru sighs, “Not really.”

That’s the biggest lie he might’ve ever told Rin.

Still she pats his back sympathetically, even laying her head against his shoulder.

Celebration begins, food laid free for grabbing and wine flowing like water -- especially into Kabru’s gaping maw. It's sour on his tongue, but as far as he’s seen it's him alone that scrunches his face and shakes out his hair at the taste, which only has him feeling crazier.

.

.

.

“Isn’t this foul?” Kabru scoffs, slumped over one of the many strewn tables in the general ballroom, cramped posture making him seem smaller. Ordinarily this is embarrassing. Ordinarily he’s not drunk.

“I don’t notice anything,” Chilchuck swigs from the clear chalice in his hand.

Marcille takes a civilized sip for herself, unspoken concern that their friend’s taste in alcohol is not utmost dependable, “I don’t notice anything either.”

Kabru swirls his wine, staring into the dark spiral and wondering if a bug of some type sensed his grim mood and decided to drown itself and poison his cup.

“I’m going to get a new drink, then,” Kabru rises, bidding the pair well as he guns for the barrels of frothy ale.

People cheer and clack maizers, spilling various toxic cures onto the floor making his shoes stick with loud clicks. Something he doesn’t bother with knowing Laios will seek him out once the stains are discovered.

Laios, Laios, Laios: speaking of.

Kabru’s gaze floats across the party to find his king, who is staring off with hands fidgeting in the drape of his Winged Lion’s pelt as your father speaks. An unfortunate sight, one he’s itching to rectify when a lengthy gown flows into his vision.

Dashing and soft and yours.

Sage fabric glides along the floor, intricately sewn floral trim skittering along the ground. Flowers of lace and yarn decorate the bust and sleeves, even a crown of colorful buds blooms atop your head. Rings of gold link around your fingers. Hair swept away to unveil your face, coiled and braided with, unbelievably, more flowers dancing between the tresses. Faint lavender and tangerine lingers around you in a hypnotizing haze, culling lovestruck head-turns of men and women with your every step.

“Your husband’s alone with your father.”

“They’ll come out alive, or we’ll hear them killing each other,” you pull out a seat at the longest central table and gesture to the chair directly beside you, “Sit. We never got to properly catch up.”

Kabru sees you have wine. He suddenly craves the sour grape flavor (maybe all he was missing was the sensation of licking it off your lips). From what he remembers, Laios was holding wine as well. Kabru considers stretching out to steal a second taste.

Although, sugary enough is the sound of your voice, suddenly his fresh mug of ale is entirely forgotten.

“Kabru?”

You’re so pretty, Kabru could tear his eyes out now and not miss a single greater sight. Especially when you’re -again- bathed in the pouring gold sunlight through grand windows, tranquil beside him at the long table. As if there isn’t a single other spot you prefer, you sit right next to him with a chalice of the worst wine he’s ever had.

“Hey, Kabru…”

His hands shake with the need to hold you. Chest raging with his uncontrollable heartbeat. His head hurts with the knowledge that there really isn’t a place he prefers more than by you (even if he’s forced to drink alcohol so foul it's comparable to sewage).

“Kabru,” your touch startles him, pout and knitted brows capturing his whole attention, “You’re not even listening to me!” you laugh, shaking off his incompetence so easily it makes him want to thank you with a kiss, “Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” he lowers his head into his hands, “Yes,” he lies to you, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Poor thing, I thought you were better at holding your liquor.”

“Your memory is fading…”

“Oh, well, suppose me and the king will have to tuck you in. Make sure you get to bed safely without bumping into anything expensive.”

Kabru gags, pushing himself up from his seat and dashing towards the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach (wine, mead, beer, and beer’s good brother ale).

Tears sting his eyes, snot beginning to leak from his nose as he spits into the toilet bowl. You and the king. The king and you. You and Laios: married. Perfect union. And Kabru did it all to himself. He wanted so desperately to drink himself under the table to forget, and you just had to go reminding him.

You are the worst person he’s ever met, and so is Laios! Your commitment to respect is disgusting, and Laios’ trust in him is an absolute travesty. You two should just hurry up and keel over instead of shoving your romance in Kabru’s face; and if either of you ever thanks him for setting you up then he’ll gut you both that very instant.

Laios and you are terrible, awful, no good devils -- and he wants you both so bad he’s vomiting in the bathroom on your wedding night.

Maybe he can send you both off on a honeymoon? Yes, yes. And while you’re away, he’ll drown in responsibility by day and pretty faces by night. Upon your return, he’ll have forgotten he was ever smitten.

No, who is he kidding? That would be a pointless venture.

You’d be so giddy to tell Kabru allllll about your trip while Laios would show off trinkets he picked up with that charming smile, Kabru would fall right back here. Puking and crying. He should just resign totally. Rot away in bed and die so he never has to see either of you again.

How cowardly.

How unbecoming.

Kabru could kick himself.

Rin was in his position more or less (...less, though, definitely less) and still had the nerve to face him every day for years. She didn’t run away, and she didn’t make her party suffer because of her feelings -- so how could Kabru extend the kingdom’s wellbeing over his? Without him, Laios would socially drown with a village chief’s firstborn as a life preserver.

You’re smart and well-versed in reading others, but you’re not Kabru for God’s sake. You can’t apply half of what you know, not to mention you don’t even care to learn.

Wiping off his mouth and flushing the toilet, Kabru stumbles toward the doorway with a prayer in his pocket to find water soon.

Returning to the chipper scene, Kabru can instantaneously spot Laios flagging him down, with his spare hand curved into the base of your spine.

He dodges you both and retires to bed. Lightheaded and miserable, he’s asleep quickly.

Then, suddenly, he’s not.

.

.

.

He’s outside Laios’ room.

Did his feet carry him here subconsciously? How pathetic…

Kabru is fully prepared to turn back and amble to his room when there’s a sound from the other side of the door. A sharp gasp and whine, then your giggling, and Laios’ voice pleading for you to be nice to him. More murmuring, then a soft moan. A lofty sigh.

Song of a consummation.

Foolishly, Kabru hadn’t thought that your sex life was something he’d have to encounter directly. And despite knowing he should step away, if not out of honor then at least to preserve his own heart, Kabru’s curiosity bolts him to the floor.

He’s never seen Laios fuck.

He’s never seen you fuck, either.

He feels compelled to study -- how does your subdued front mesh with Laios’ eager hands? Which of you takes control? With his bigger size and more powerful title, one would assume Laios, but Kabru bets it's you. Will you make him wait? Would he dive between your thighs with fervor? How will the lip stain your ladies painted you with look slathered across Laios’ pale skin?

Despite knowing what it says about his character, Kabru stays. On some level to get it through to himself that you two are together and off-limits; and on a deeper, truer level because he’s sick in the head.

As was the plan anyway, until a booming, “Hey!” echoes from down the dim hall. A guardsman fast approaching from his patrol route. Kabru’s face is hidden by the dark, figure easily mistaken for a passing servant. But even if the guard could recognize him, would it matter?

What reason does the royal advisor have for lingering outside his king’s chambers so late into the night?

Lies fly through Kabru’s brain as the guard bristles closer, none of them plausible. Finally, the idea of killing this man cycles through his mind, and he reconciles with the fact that must be his only option to avoid an obscenity charge.

“Oh, you came!” a soft hand lands between Kabru’s shoulder blades, voice floating past him and to the guard now two feet away, “Thank you for your faithful service, but don’t concern yourself with him. Our king summoned him,” your laugh soothes Kabru’s tensed muscles, “I wasn’t sure he’d make it because of the hour.”

Kabru stares at you, not bothering to hide his confused, jaw-hanging stare as the guard retreats to his typical patrol.

A thin silk robe drapes over you, loosely tied at the waist and exposing much of your chest.

“I never took you for a pervert, Kabru,” such a mellow voice makes even your scalding accusation sound sweet. You whirr him around by the arm and lug him into yours and Laios’ newly shared room. All proprieties trapped outside but trepidation slithers through, lodging in his gullet.

Laios lays on the bed, exposed completely. Tousled sheets bunched between his hands and under his thighs. Cheeks flushed redder than the head of his cock, hard and slapped against his stomach. Wide spread thighs and heaving chest bountiful eye candy.

“How’d you know it was him?” Laios sounds devastatingly breathless, eyes low and ruby lips swollen.

“Hunch,” you answer plainly, petting down Kabru’s arm until your fingers lace with his.

Kabru murmurs your name, wide eyed. You knew?

Of course, you knew. How could he have thought anything else? Your calm nature about the whole ordeal solidifies that you must’ve known for a long while. Longer than him, even. When would you have figured it out?

“He’s beautiful,” you perch your chin on Kabru’s shoulder, cooing into his ear, “You were always so focused on his face, you’ve never gotten to see anything beneath his clothes, have you?”

Oh, right. The very first day you got here, obviously.

Laios rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, brows pinching in frustration, heated gaze straying from Kabru to you, “He’s going to touch me, right?”

“Depends,” your hands skim up Kabru’s spine, nudging him forward, “Kabru, do you want to touch your king?” one arm glides around his front, fingers toying with the band of his trousers, “And myself?”

“Uhhh…” can he be honest with himself? Can he lay himself bare before not one, but two people? Two people he’s interested in above all else. Heat laps from the barrel of his chest, scorching from cheeks to ears to forehead as sweat beads along his hairline and the back of his neck.

“I asked a question. I need a response.”

Laios’ cock twitches against his abdomen, throat croaking around desire.

“Yes,” Kabru exhales, heavy, barbed, and thorny, cutting him up inside until he’s too weak to stand. Sinking onto the mattress by his knees, “I will.”

Laios’ eyes flick from Kabru’s face down to his weepy erection.

He wants Laios in his mouth. Wants the warmth slapping his tongue, burrowing towards the cinch of his throat. He wants to grope the bulge his king forces through his neck and feel your hands buried in his dark hair. The latter need is fulfilled, your fingers combing through dark curls to push him into your husband’s crotch.

“What a pretty mouth, Kabru, you love to run it,” you climb onto the bed beside him, holding Laios steady by the base, “Try something new, hm?”

“New is- ”

“Try it, Kabru. Now,” regardless of the choppy demand, your voice remains dulcet. Pillowy and fluffy. He could melt into your sound.

His tongue lolls to slather the underside of Laios’ cock with hot saliva, enveloping the man in his mouth. Cheeks hollowing and lashes batting wetly up at the king, crimson deepening on Laios’ face. Behind him, the mattress dips and shakes, Laios’ eyes jumping from baby blues to over Kabru’s back, hips jerking against his chin.

Your hand lifts from inky hair, curls slipping between your fingers in vain attempts to tether you against his skull. Now both your palms run up Laios’ chest as you mold against his side. Your thighs spread around one of his arms and robe nowhere to be found, painted lips smear rouge up Laios’ neck and cheek before you claim his lips.

One of Laios’ hands cradles Kabru’s head, not rudely pushing nor wrangling his hair, just an affectionate reminder of whose cock is in his throat. Meanwhile, the hand between your thighs crooks towards your heat, middle finger ringing your clit -- earning a jump and heave from you.

Laios coaxes Kabru off, winded as he requests, “Can you two kiss? Please?”

Kabru gives the king no time to abjure before he’s spearing you with attention, not that you’re more patient; hurriedly cupping his cheeks and legs spreading to welcome him between. Sat up enough to give Laios a proper view, Kabru fondles your ass as you happily cram your lips to his. He wonders if your lip stain wipes off on him as well. He hopes it does.

“So beautiful,” Laios muses stroking his cock, casually flicking his wrist and thumbing the head, as you reach for Kabru’s.

Kabru’s lips sear down your neck, urged to bite. He does not.

“Soft, right?” Laios lays his head against your shoulder, poking obnoxiously into Kabru’s space (not that he minds), “Still sweet with wine.”

You taste better than the fucking wine.

Does Laios?

Your lips curl, drifting away just to whisper against his lips, “Would you like to kiss the king?”

“Can I?”

Before you can reaffirm, Laios snatches Kabru by the chin to kiss him.

Laios is not sweet like wine, he tastes like beer and salt and iron from a raw lip, and yet Kabru cannot drink him down fast enough.

Hands, big and calloused and sweltering, brand Kabru’s hips -- spinning him around to face the door as you unwork the man’s nightshirt. Tossing the flowy cloth aside, you press a final kiss to Kabru’s lips, before laying out beneath him.

Kabru’s eyes hone on the honeydew slick glossing your slit, hands scrambling for perch on your bracketing thighs as Laios’ settle on his ass. Anticipation builds and flows out of his mouth, rich and thick and in the form of a lashing tongue. Broad and cozy, Kabru sweeps up your cunt, thumbs parting you for the purest taste. Audible sighs fan over your pelvis in time with Laios burying his spit-slick fingers into Kabru’s hole.

A groan vibrates through your hips, Kabru’s electric eyes flashing over the quiver in your thighs as you grind onto his nose. Both hands knotting through his hair.

Fingers prod inside you, curling toward your stomach before scissoring apart just to noisily slurp out leaking wetness.

Burly hands rearrange Kabru again, manhandling him until he’s got his back against Laios’ chest with legs thrown out across the bed. Exhilaration surges through Kabru’s whole body, extremities jittering and whines dribbling down his lips. Slowly, he’s lowered onto Laios’ cock with teeny rasps inspiring you to grab him by the shoulders. Again, sweet lips meet his, but he realizes the ploy quickly: torturous pleasure rips through his gut as you push him back to prime for riding.

Laios’ hand finds your chest, tweaking your nipple while snapping his hips up. Pounding into Kabru’s clenching hole in time that you sink down on the poor man.

Over Kabru’s shoulder, you and Laios swap spit with noisy kisses and if he weren’t sweating ecstasy then maybe he’d find the power to be embarrassed over his desperation to join. Regardless of getting his brains ground into mush by your combined, incessant pistoning, Kabru finds himself giddy to be involved further.

You’re purposeful and elegant; excruciating, tantalizing bounces with nails digging into the meat of Kabru’s chest. As if you could easily tear him apart, only dangling in front of him like a carrot-drawn-horse.

Laios is frantic and overwhelming; hips unrelenting and thick muscled arms belting Kabru against him. Skin clapping skin, moist with sweat, and fat rippling from the impacts of Laios’ fucking. Each thrust into Kabru sends him rocketing further inside you; bulging deep, deep in your squelching cunt.

Contrasting in all ways -- your hands pet and scratch while Laios’ anchor and tug, you moan and mewl while Laios groans and growls. When you’re not kissing your husband you impress downy lips upon Kabru’s chest while Laios tears bruises from his neck with full teeth.

Passion swells each suck and stroke and pap, pap, pap until Kabru’s bursting from the inside out. He keens, body tensing.

“Breathe,” Laios huffs into his ear, voice low and crackling, “Breathe, it feels better when you don’t tighten up.”

Kabru heeds, blowing hot air across your bare chest as he cums, and you coo, “Good boy.”

A slush of your combined juices cascades, soaking and matting Kabru’s pubes. Wetting his and Laios’ balls. Three hard rams and Laios is spilling inside Kabru as well. Pants and gulps echoing around the room.

Reclining against the headboard, Laios slowly pulls your exhausted body off Kabru before slipping his cock out of the man. Each of you is fully aware the hygienic option is to wash yourselves, change the sheets, and maybe even comb through messy heads of hair.

None of you do, though.

Laios, grinning bright and alluring as the sun, has an arm nestled around both you and Kabru to keep you flush against his sides. Your head finds a pillow in your husband’s chest, Kabru copying the motion. Swamped exhales pass between yours and Kabru’s blissed out faces, but only measured breaths pull a serene rise and fall from Laios. Drool even leaks from the corner of Kabru’s mouth, he groans in disgust but can’t manage the strength to wipe it away. Neither can you, exhaustion poisoning you from the knees up.

A careful thumb dabs the spittal away, only to grossly end up smearing it across Kabru’s shoulder when Laios replaces his hand on the man’s bare arm.

“How…” Kabru shudders for breath, “Why…” his eyes flutter drowsily, “Not tired…?”

“I didn’t do much,” Laios reasons (whether he genuinely thinks that or is bluffing, nobody can be sure), voice low as he notices you’re beginning to drift asleep, “Wore yourselves out, though.”

“Still…” Kabru huffs defiantly, yawning against the moist valley between Laios’ pecs, “I… more stamina…”

“Ass,” you drowsily pitch in, eyes closed and lashes stark against your cheeks.

“Ass?” Laios looks down at Kabru.

“Ass,” Kabru yawns again, now capable of slurring full sentences together with his breath sufficiently caught, “First time taking it in the ass. Probably took more out of me than I expected…”

“You should’ve said something,” Laios lours, “Even monsters like Orcs that have sex for pleasure stretch their partners more than I did. It helps prevent tearing. I wish I could’ve seen more mating rituals before getting cursed.”

“You could read more…”

Kabru’s too tired to negate your yawn of a suggestion. He doesn’t need to before Laios mutters again, seconds away from passing out altogether,

“I’ve read about them a lot, I just wanted to see it for myself.”

Year 515. Some days later.

Laios suddenly turns in his throne, angling his body towards Kabru, “You think I can make polyamorous marriage legal?”

“Why?” Kabru’s sure he knows exactly where the king’s head is, he just wants to hear the man say it.

Sticking out his thumb, index, and middle finger, Laios scrunches the digits towards his palm twice, “Aren’t we all getting married?”

“You’ll have to ask your real spouse about that first.”

“I did.”

“Huh?!” that makes Kabru’s heart explode, blood and meat blowing through his orifices. Teasing Laios is easy now that he more clearly understands the man’s motives, but you?

You’re intimidating even after he’s been inside you, he doesn’t know how Laios can so casually ask you something like that (he does though, it’s due to Laios’ many loose screws).

“I already asked about us marrying you.”

“And…?”

“They thought it was a good idea!” Laios shakes off, as if Kabru should have just known you would go along with your husband’s insanity, “So, can I legalize it?”

“Probably,” Kabru settles a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart (or what remains, anyway), “I’ll look into it.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

~~~

kabru miserablism POV my beloved

beast laios and fae reader and treasure kabru imagery makes me so hard

[bourgeoisiebirdie]

Agatha All Along Episode 5 Theory: Why It’s Weird and Short

So Episode 5 was by far the shortest episode we’ve had so far for the series. It feels different from the other trials so far which causes it to feel…scrambled in a way. Now you could blame poor writing for the craziness of this episode (along with the abrupt ending), but I usually reserve that judgement for after a series ends.

Here’s what I think is going on. SPOILERS AHEAD!

Agatha’s trial being in this episode was a bit of a surprise, but let’s be real, the show is called Agatha All Along…do we really believe that our favorite dramatic sad backstory mommy issues-filled witch only gets ONE episode for her trial?

The Ouija board makes the objective for this task clear: Punish Agatha. A task that some of the coven clearly have no qualms carrying out. But let’s think about the sequence of events after that message is delivered.

The coven tries to tie up Agatha which fails after Agatha becomes possessed by her mother. Agatha’s mother says Agatha must be left behind which causes her to freak out. Alice tries to save Agatha which results in Agatha accidentally(?) killing her. Agatha is only stopped when Teen says her son’s name and the door to escape opens after Teen says Goodbye on the Ouija board.

Notice anything?

Agatha is never *technically* punished by her coven. Each trial so far involves a task that 1. is specific to one witch’s ability, 2. involves a clear objective that the coven eventually recognizes and reaches together, 3. ends with growth, both power and character wise, of the witch/coven. This episode feels off because the formula is off. And the formula is off because none of it’s real.

Episode 5 IS Agatha’s punishment. Every trial has stirred up unwanted tragic memories from the witch it’s related to. It is no coincidence that this episode hits every. single. one. of Agatha’s problems.

It starts with an Ouija Board - Agatha has killed a lot of people, not all of them on purpose. We already know Agatha loves to pretend to not feel anything, but now she is forced to directly interact with her victims.

Punish Agatha - The coven turns on Agatha surprisingly quick to carry out the trial and surround her while she is on the floor…just like her old coven betrayed her. She fears betrayal.

Evanora Harkness - Self-explanatory, she not only forcefully possesses Agatha (which could tie in to fear of lack of control thanks to Wanda), but tells her she was born evil, something that Agatha looks devastated to hear. Mommy issues galore.

“I’ll be good” - upon hearing that her coven may leave her behind, Agatha freaks out and begs for them to not leave her. Fear of abandonment.

Alice’s Death - Agatha seems horrified after killing Alice with her powers (just like she killed her mother and coven in the past), and the rest of the present coven, especially Teen, are horrified by her actions and don’t believe her.

Nicholas Scratch - A devastating name to hear. And his voice calling to her is just the cherry on top.

And after she leaves the trial? Teen turns on her using magic similar to Wanda’s and then throws Agatha off the path to kill her. And Rio is suddenly nowhere to be seen? Another tumblr user made an interesting point that the aspect ratio doesn’t return to normal like it usually does after a trial. Because all of this has been the precursor to Agatha’s actual trial.

This may be all in her mind and it’s up to her coven to help her, guess we won’t know for sure until next week.

[trans-axolotl]

content note: this post talks about eugenics, incarceration and institutionalization, and violent ableism

tangent from that post because i didn't want to start writing an essay on someone else's post and this is about a conversation i had irl this month, not intended as a reply to that post. but i actually feel very complicated about the idea of whether or not we should be pushing for more "accessibility" in jails and prisons and psych wards and institutions. i put that word in quotes because i don't think there is ever a way that being incarcerated is actually accessible to our bodies and minds; it is a disabling experience on so many levels. i'm not going to list out all the reasons why on this post; i've made so many posts talking explicitly about the harms of institutionalization before and i don't want to do that again right now. Talila Lewis has given several interviews about ableism, incarceration, and disability that are really worth reading and go more in depth into what that violence looks like. Liat Ben Moshe has also given another interview about disability and incarceration that goes over many of the same topics. given that these places are intense sites of violence towards disabled people, it feels difficult for me to claim that they could ever truly be accessible in any meaningful sense of the word.

what's also true right now is that institutions and prisons are incredibly inaccessible for physically disabled people in particular. i've been arrested with a wheelchair, i've been institutionalized with a feeding tube on top of that as well, i've been held on medical floors for psych treatment before, and i know very well exactly how bad it is. i've watched myself and so many other physically disabled people almost die in these places because of sheer neglect. i have physically disabled neighbors who were killed in these places. it is so dangerous for physically disabled people who are locked up in these places, yet at the same time, often psych wards are so inaccessible that physically disabled people just can't even be admitted because wards refuse to take people with mobility aids, medical devices, specific types of medication or care needs, if you have some kinds of terminal illness, and on and on and on.

what's also true is that when these places are so inaccessible that many physically disabled people are excluded and unable to even access them in the first place, it doesn't mean that we then somehow access other types of care instead. it just means that we're also discarded and left to die. this also is a really similar dynamic for a ton of other marginalized groups that get excluded from psych care--many of my comrades who are people of color have also experienced this same type of denial of care. initially i think that can seem like a confusing contradiction--how is it that psych wards are locking up some people up against their will but refusing to take in other people? but when you start thinking about the underlying logic at the core of these systems, it makes sense.

psych wards operate under this idea that madness must be cured by any means possible, up to and including eradication. institutions are a way of disappearing madness from the world--hiding us away so that we don't disturb a sane society, and not letting us free again until we either die in there or are able to appear like we've sufficiently eradicated madness from our mind. preventing physically disabled people from accessing inpatient treatment is operating under the same assumptions--except that this particularly violent convergence of ableism is happy to just let us die, both because it eradicates madness from the world and because they view our lives as unworthy of living in the first place. eugenics is still alive and well in the united states and it's still fucking killing us; both inside institutions and outside of them.

i would never tell someone that they're privileged for getting institutionalized--i think that would be a cruel thing to say to someone who has just survived a lot of violent ableism. and at the same time, our current systems of mental health care are set up in a way where not being able to access inpatient care can be a deadly logistical nightmare. there are some partial hospitalization programs that have such a long waiting list that you can only really get in if you just got an urgent referral because you're getting discharged from inpatient care--how the fuck are physically disabled people supposed to access those programs? if you need meal support for your eating disorder 6 times a day and the only places that offer that are residential treatment in a house with stairs, what the fuck are you supposed to do? if noncarceral outpatient forms of treatment like therapy, support groups, PHP programs, peer support funding, etc etc etc are often prioritizing people who have recently been discharged from inpatient care, how are you supposed to access any type of mental health care at all? (to be clear i know that not all forms of outpatient care operate in this way, but a lot of state run/low cost programs that accept Medicaid/Medicare operate in that way, and i've seen it cause enough barriers that i know this is a very real problem.)

so when i think about what it would take to actually ensure that physically disabled people can access mental healthcare, there's a lot that comes up for me. on one hand, so much of my work is about tearing down institutions and ensuring that no one is forced into these places to face that type of violence. on the other hand, so many physically disabled people need care right now, and we have to figure out some way of making that happen given the current systems we have in place. i will never be okay with just discarding physically disabled people as collateral damage, and any world that we're building needs to be one that embraces disability from the beginning.

i keep thinking about the concept of non-reformist reforms that gets talked about a lot in the prison abolition movement. the idea behind non-reformist reforms is that usually, reforms work to reinforce the status quo. they're usually talked about in liberal language of "improvement" and "human rights", but when it comes down to it, they're still giving more power to harmful institutions and reinforcing state power. an example of a reformist reform is building a new jail that is bigger and has "nicer" services. or when the cops in my city tried to get funding for more wheelchair accessible cop vans. these are reformist reforms because when it comes down to it, it's still giving more money and legitimacy to the prison system and increasing the capacity to keep people locked up--even when people talk about it using language about welfare for prisoners, that's not actually what's happening. having more wheelchair accessible cop vans would be dangerous for the disabled people in my city--it's helped us out a LOT that it's so difficult for the cops to arrest multiple wheelchair users at once.

non-reformist reforms are the opposite of that--they're reforms that work to dismantle systems, redistribute power, and set the stage for more even more dramatic transformations. They're sort of an answer to the question of "what do we do right now if we can't go out and burn down all the prisons overnight?" Examples of a nonreformist reform are defunding prisons, getting rid of paid administrative leave for cops, shutting down old prisons and not building new ones, etc. they're steps we can take right now that don't fully abolish prisons, but still work to dismantle them, rather than making it easier for the system to keep going.

so, when we apply this to the psych system, what are some nonreformist reforms that could help make sure that all disabled people are having their needs met right now? Some ideas I'm having include fixing the problem of PHP/outpatient care requiring referrals from inpatient, increasing the amount of Medicaid/Medicare funding for outpatient mental health care, building physically accessible peer respites that allow caregivers to stay with you if needed, increasing SSI/SSDI to an actually liveable rate, creating more disability specific mental health resources, support groups, care webs, and a million other things we'd probably need to actually get our needs met. non-reformist reforms for people in psych wards right now might look like ensuring everyone has 24/7 access to phones and internet, ensuring that disabled people have access to mobility aids in these spaces, making sure that there's accessible nutrition for people with dietary restrictions and/or feeding tubes, and more.

when i see people saying that we need to ensure that psych wards or prisons are made accessible it makes me feel nervous. i worry that the changes required to do that wouldn't actually provide care to disabled people, i worry it would just make it easier for increasing numbers of disabled people to get locked up and harmed all while people claimed it was a success story of "inclusion." i worry that it would just continue to cement carceral treatment as the only option for existing as a disabled person, and that it would make it harder for us to live in our communities, with the services and adaptations we need. when i think about abolition, i'm always thinking about what can we do right now, what do disabled people who are incarcerated and institutionalized need right now, what can we do right now to ensure that everyone is surviving and getting their needs met. i'm not willing to ignore or discard my incarcerated disabled comrades in the moment because of my dreams for an abolitionist future, i'm always going to support our organizing in these places as we try to survive them.

overall i guess what i'm saying is that i think making inpatient psych care accessible would require dismantling and fundamentally destroying the whole system. I can't imagine a way of doing that within the current system that wouldn't just continue to harm disabled people. and that as a psych abolitionist i think that means we have a responsibility to each other right now to fight for that, to understand that physically disabled people not being able to access mental health care is an incredibly urgent need. I refuse to treat my MadDisabled comrades as disposable: our lives are valuable and worth fighting for.

i'm also going to link to the HEARD organization on this post. They're one of the few abolitionist organizations that does direct advocacy and support for deaf and disabled people in prisons. if you or one of your disabled community members ever gets incarcerated in jail/prison, they have a lot of resources. donate to support their work if you can.

[meownotgood]

the neon pink rabbit dildo was aki's idea.

technically, you were the first one to mention using toys in the bedroom. you've been dating for quite a while now, and although everything with aki is always fantastic, you've been wondering if maybe the two of you should try to make things more... interesting. aki is polite. tightly-laced. pretty vanilla, to put it bluntly. you honestly weren't sure what sort of things he'd be into, if anything at all.

your coworkers had plenty of office gossip about the new fancy adult store they're opening down the block — it has two floors, they're having specials on all their products for couples. you figured it was worth mentioning to aki, just for the hell of it. you tell him as you're both relaxing in the living room after work, like you normally do.

everyone at your job has been complaining about the new surge of traffic to the nearest parking garage. it must be because of the new giant sex shop. ha ha, very funny. aki gives you an all-too serious once-over, before he gently asks, "did you want to check it out?"

you fumbled through your next words, and swiftly explained to your boyfriend that yes, sure, you wouldn't mind checking it out with him. it'd be exciting, really. honestly, you're all for experimenting, but you're unsure, you aren't very knowledgeable. the problem with the whole thing is that you don't know exactly what you'd like to try. it's a bit stressful to imagine getting lost in a huge adult store, with no idea what to purchase.

"I could try to pick something out. maybe that'd be less stressful." aki suggests, his slightly flushed face betraying his level tone. he crosses his legs and leans back into the couch. "only if you're interested, though."

you confirmed you were very, very interested.

part of you assumed aki might back out. he's been busy with work lately, so you had plenty of time to mull it over before your next date — but you honestly had no idea what sort of toy he might pick out. you know he'd put thought into it. he would choose something for a specific reason, or purposefully pick a toy he assumed you would like. perhaps he'd imagine how he might use it on you. would it be something small? large? super adventurous or overly simple?

still, despite all your thinking, when the day actually comes, aki manages to surprise you.

he comes over to your place shortly after you text him an invite. sure. I just got done with work. I'll be over soon, aki replies. he sends another string of texts shortly afterwards, while you're busy tripping over your pant leg, trying to quickly change into your lingerie. I missed you. I'm bringing a surprise.

maybe it was that text, or maybe it was because you haven't seen him in close to a week and you're practically dying to feel his touch, but once he arrives, the two of you barely last a few innocent minutes together before you're stumbling into your bedroom.

aki allows you to pull him forward and on top of you by his tie when you flop back onto your bed. your hands run through his soft hair to tug it free of its hairtie. you kiss his lips and brush your tongue against his with fervor, and you don't protest when he shifts to trail tingling, affectionate kisses down your neck.

you curl into his touches — his mouth on your collar, his palm gliding over your lower back — and you make quick work of a good third of his work uniform: his tie, his jacket, the first few buttons on his dress shirt. aki is much more efficient. he discards your clothes with careful movements, between soft kisses. he sighs when he pulls back, nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy at the sight of your pretty body held tight by the thin, perfectly fitting lingerie.

"you look beautiful," he hums, completely earnest. you shudder, your arms held around his neck and shoulders. your thighs spread wider for him as his warm palm brushes in between them.

you'd almost forgotten about the surprise, until aki reminds you of it.

he pulls himself off of you for a moment to reach into his bag. the dildo is moderately sized, a handful of inches in length at most, but it doesn't seem cheap. it's made from bright pink silicone, long and thick with two different sections. the smaller portion is adorned with two small knobs, shaped like rabbit ears.

it's meant for double stimulation, aki explains awkwardly, between a handful of uhms and stutters. you could certainly gather as much from the shape.

he places a hand on your waist ever-so gently, and when he asks, are you okay with this? you're swift to answer with a nod of your head. you're more than okay with it. what you couldn't figure out is how it might feel — until aki finally opts to show you.

he has you sprawled out beneath him, completely pliant. your arms are above your head, hands clenching tight as he glides his palm from your waist to your thigh with reassurance. he squeezes, and he fiddles with the toy for a moment, gauging the various controls. as he leans in closer, he presses a kiss to your cheek, he breathes a low instruction to relax. then, he flips the toy to press just the small, vibrating, rabbit-eared attachment to your still-clothed clit.

you can feel the faint vibrations, even through your lingerie. the toy must be on the lowest setting; it's more of a tease than anything else. still, your eyes flutter. you let go of a satisfied sound, and eagerly grind your hips up to meet the toy.

aki sighs. "you want more?" he murmurs, already sitting up and hooking his thumb around the string of your underwear. "can I take this off?"

you nod hastily, and lift your hips to allow him to pull the garment down your legs and all the way off.

aki's jaw clenches. sweat is forming at his brow and his palms, as you coo his name and spread your legs wider for him. you're so wet — he can tell without touching, but he's entirely sure once he guides the thick head of the toy over your cunt, and sees your arousal glistening on the silicone. he gives you another soft squeeze, another gentle touch on your side, a final, are you sure?

when you whimper and plead, please, aki, I want to feel it, he hardly hesitates to give you exactly what you've been hoping for.

the dildo is just the perfect size. it slides into you effortlessly, filling you perfectly and snugly. the length of it is curved slightly, and you can feel that curve as he slowly eases it in — nudging your walls, the thick tip deliciously meeting your sweet spot.

"there, that's it," aki praises. once the toy is all the way inside you, he lets go of a sigh that sounds thoroughly satisfied. "god. you take it so well."

your spine tingles at the sound of his smooth voice. he adjusts the toy slightly, and as the flexible rabbit-eared piece presses against your clit, vibrations a little stronger than before, your whole body tremors.

aki fucks you on the toy with slow, shallow thrusts, enough to keep the vibrations on your clit. and it's intense, it's so much; the toy fucks you so well and hits your sweet spot with its perfect curve on every thrust in. the vibrations are low and constant, thrumming against your sensitive, puffy clit.

wet noises fill the room as you dirty the toy's pretty pink shaft. aki keeps his pace slow, deliberate, never pressing it in too hard or too fast. all you can do is quiver and whine, your voice already becoming strained and loud.

he clicks a button on the dildo, and it begins to vibrate with strong pulses.

you're so beautiful; pleading his name, keeping your heavy, warm gaze locked on his despite the way your eyelids flutter. aki swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen as he watches the way you take all he has to give you. you have no idea what this is doing to him, how his heart is pounding and his mind is racing and oh, you were made to take this toy. you're all his, he has complete control over every facet of your pleasure. and god, does he want to make you cum for him.

aki increases the strength of the vibrations. "you're irresistible," he murmurs, and you don't fail to catch the small break at the end of his voice. he's falling apart too, just from this. "say my name again, please. want to make you cum for me, beautiful."

he trails soft kisses down your jaw while the dildo pleasures your cunt and your clit — and when you cum, you cum quickly and hard.

you tremor, you hold onto him tight, you soak the toy as your legs shake and your voice gives out. aki slows while you struggle to regain your breath, a hand slowly caressing your side, guiding you to breathe again. his heart feels like it might hammer out of his own chest.

"f-fuck..." aki swears, his breath shaky, his brows pinched. "you've never- that was-" he sighs. you're so lovely, so pretty. he's definitely going to lose his mind if he hasn't lost it already. why didn't he think of something like this sooner? "god... can you take one more for me?"

for @violet-turning-violet

[poppystheories]

Tyki’s reaction to being slapped fascinates me. This guy gets slapped by a helpless exorcist that's fully at his mercy and he kinda likes it. It wasn’t a weak slap either! Despite the state Allen’s in, it left a mark! But Tyki just laughs it off. Settles down to chat. Lights himself a cigarette.

Let’s face it. It’s charming.

I really like the contrast between Allen’s first meeting with Road and his first meeting with Tyki. Road had no intention of killing Allen from the start, and she wasn't really there to destroy any Innocence, but she gets incredibly rough with him: nailing his arm to the wall, stabbing his eye out, making a pincushion out of him with her candles. She fully delights in the bodily harm.

Tyki’s here to kill Allen and destroy his Innocence. That’s already decided. But he doesn’t brutalize him at any point.

Because Tyki's so casual, you keep thinking: hey, Allen’s going to get out of this totally fine. Someone is going to show up and save him. Lenalee should be looking for him. We haven’t seen the others in a while, so they must be on their way. Someone is going to arrive in the nick of time to save Allen, and everything’s going to be fine. We still have to get to Japan, after all.

But no one comes.

The scene progresses. Tyki keeps talking, he shows off his power a bit, tries to play with Allen like he played with the others. Tries to make him scared, maybe beg a little. He’s fooling around with the prey he’s already caught, like a cat.

But Allen's not scared, and Tyki backs off. The actual physical torture isn't the appeal for him, so if his victim isn't scared there's no reason to get violent.

So now you're thinking, wow, this guy is gonna regret taking his time when someone finally arrives! What a classic villain fumble; failing your mission because you were too busy monologuing.

But no one comes.

Tyki pulls out the card the Earl gave him. And you find out Tyki’s been searching for Allen. Specifically.

That’s bad, but it's okay. It'll be fine. Someone is going—

You turn the page, and Tyki is ripping Allen’s arm off. No warning, no posturing. One second Allen is fine—someone is going to save him, any second now, Tyki hasn’t even hurt him yet—and the next Allen’s fucking Innocence is on the forest floor.

Tyki keeps talking, smiling. Nothing about his demeanor has changed.

He destroys Allen's Innocence. Like it's nothing.

And at this point, you start to realize, maybe no one is coming. Or if they are, it’s already too late.

Tim gets sent away. He can go get help. But, now Allen’s truly alone with the assassin sent to kill him—if anyone’s coming, it has to be now! Where is everyone?!

Right on cue, you finally get to see the other characters.

And they’re still on the fucking ship.

Then maybe Lenalee—

No. Lenalee’s also at the ship. Tyki has his hand hovering over Allen’s chest and Lenalee’s at the goddamn ship.

No one is coming, you realize. No one was ever coming.

And just like that, Tyki kills Allen. Intimately, with a smile. He wants it to be slow, but quiet. He wants Allen to feel how helpless he really is.

Tyki's a serial killer: we've seen him stage his victims before, like leaving Daisya hanging like some kind of grisly ornament. We saw the state he left the General in.

Allen, however, gets more artistic treatment; he's by the far the favorite of Tyki's victims so far, and Tyki doesn't want to disturb the pretty picture he's already made too much, but it needs a little extra flair, doesn't it? A more personal touch.

So he scatters his own gift to Allen over him: a little something to suit his white hair and black coat and red scars, and the last thing we see is the black crescent of despair. Put there quite deliberately; it is not a typical image to appear on a Joker card.

Volume 6 ends, just like that.

It really is a merciless ending. You can't believe that the protagonist will really die here, but even if he somehow survives, his Innocence has been destroyed. The entire scene is built around your expectations as a reader that the protagonist can't die, so someone will save him, or there will be some other interference.

But no. No one was ever coming to save Allen; not this time.

And that? That has consequences.

[g1rld1ary]

a little manpower - neighbour!james potter x reader

wc: 1141

cw: none? reader moving into an apartment and meets james

an: i wish it was summer here so bad I'm struggling!!! what are 1 degree mornings!!!!

Why did nobody tell you it was so bloody hard to move out? Like, everyone talks about the money and the forms and all the confusing adult things, but why did no one tell you about the actual pain in the arse it would be to have to physically move everything you own into a flat three floors up? You didn't consider yourself the fittest person ever, not by a long shot, but you worked out and you didn't think you were weak. Yet there you were, panting like a dog after carrying another box up to your new home.

And of course, it was just your luck that you'd planned your big move-out during what may be Britain's only hot day in the whole year (only slight exaggeration). Still, you felt bad complaining. Your parents had helped you in the morning, moving in some of the IKEA furniture you'd picked out and had a good go of assembling some of it too, so you did have a bed to sleep on. Plus, a college friend had stopped by for an hour or two to keep you company and lifted some boxes with you.

So you didn't have much of a reason to complain, except that you didn't want to be doing it anymore. You were tired of walking up the bloody stairs and your arms were aching from the over-filled boxes. Plus, you had one armchair you'd found at a vintage store that had been sitting near the entryway all day, waiting for you to develop the motivation to drag it upstairs.

When your full-length mirror (deceptively heavy) had you almost in tears you decided enough was enough and it was time for a break. Not brave enough to sit in the woefully unpacked flat you trudged down the stairs one more time, crumpling on the grass nature strip until you were lying on your back.

Everything seemed a bit calmer like that, grass surprisingly cool on the back of your arms and legs. Your muscles relaxed for the first time in hours and you thought if you were in a cartoon you'd probably start fusing into the earth. The only thing that would make the moment nicer would be the peace of mind of knowing your belongings were all safely away in your new flat. And maybe an ice cream.

"Alright, love?" A male voice came from just beyond your head. You tilted it back to crack one eye open. A man was standing a few metres away, more shadow than human because of the positioning of the sun.

"It's hot," You said, "And I'm tired. And my limbs don't work anymore." You knew you probably sounded a bit like a child, but who were you trying to impress? The man laughed and it didn't quite match his silhouette; carefree and juvenile juxtaposing the muscles he clearly had.

"Understandable." You could kind of see him running a hand through his hair, "You must be the new tenant, right? I heard you were moving in soon. We heard you drop something heavy before... and cry a little." Sensing the conversation probably wasn't going to end with that, you sat up and turned to face him, still squinting from the sun.

"You heard a girl cry and didn't do anything about it? What a gentleman."

"I came out here, didn't I?"

"And you're not on the way out somewhere?"

"Touché." He had the decency to appear a little sheepish, at least from what you could see of him. He held his hand out for you, pulling you to your feet effortlessly. It was easier to see him now, the sun not being at such an uncooperative angle, and you tried not to look so surprised. The man was gorgeous, tall and muscular with dark curls, but his face was so friendly you couldn't help but smile. He was physically intimidating, but in the way that you knew he wasn't trying to specifically gain muscle, it was something he'd gotten through activity, like a sport or trade.

You stood for a minute, face to face but both silent. You wracked your brain for something to say.

"I'm sorry about the big old armchair blocking the entry hall, I can't lift it on my own and I just need a little extra manpower but I couldn't get any friends over to help today. I promise it'll be gone by tomorrow," You said, glad for both something to say and to get the guilty feeling off your chest. The man's face broke out into a wide smile.

"It's no worries," He assured you, "The people here hardly ever leave their apartment, I doubt they'll even notice. Don't you worry about it." Something about the way he spoke calmed your nerves, both about the chair and moving into the building as a whole. It was your first time properly living on your own, and you wanted to find somewhere quiet but welcoming. If this neighbour was anything to go by, you'd made a good choice. You smiled in return, weight lifted off your shoulders.

"Right, thanks. I guess I'll see you around..."

"James," He finished, shaking your hand firmly in a way that you didn't expect. You introduced yourself in return and you both hesitated, unsure of how exactly to end the conversation.

"Right, well, I've got training," James said awkwardly, gesturing to the kit bag around his shoulder. You nodded, starting to step back towards the door to the building.

"Have fun with that," You said, giving him a small wave. You waited until you were safely inside before cringing at your attempts at conversation, sending a bitter glare to the armchair as you passed it.

You didn't leave the apartment until the next morning, opting to peck at whatever you had in the pantry for dinner before passing out on a half-made bed. But you had to pick yourself up and decided you did need to grocery shop and actually fill up the pantry you'd just acquired, so you laced up your Converse and picked the keys up from the temporary table next to the door.

And there, waiting outside your door, was the old green armchair, waiting for you as if it had been there all along. You smiled, rubbing a hand along the velvet slowly. There was only one answer as to who it could have been, and James was clearly honouring whatever higher being gave him all that muscle by using it for good. You decided you'd have to make him cookies to thank him and set off for the shop.

[astrophileous]

In honor of Hotch’s birthday (November 2nd), can I please request a NSFW scenario where he gets spoiled rotten by his girlfriend and finds out that she’s a nymphomaniac which she tries to hide because she’s scared of rejection and being ostracized?

IK IK I'm technically late to this but HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BOSS MAN!!! ty sooo much for the request hun and so sorry for the delay ❤️ I did as much research abt nymphomania as I could, and I apologize if I didn't do a good enough job representing the condition. pls feel free to correct me abt anything in the comment section if you want to. oh and I wasn't sure if you specifically wanted for the plot to go from spoiling hotch to him finding out, bcs I kinda switched it the other way around 😭 still hope you'll like it thoo 💞✨️

Warning(s): fem!reader, nymphomania, 18+ content minors dni, fem masturbation, use of sex toys, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), alcoholic consumption, past relationships trauma

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Aaron was adamant that you had been hiding something from him.

The signs started out small. They always did. In this case, Aaron first noted it during one of the rare nights out that the BAU somehow managed to have amidst their ruthless schedule. The booth that the whole team was at could barely fit everyone who showed up that day, and thus, Aaron found you sitting with almost your entire body pressing against his side. He didn't mind the tight fit one bit. In fact, he'd do just about anything to have you that close to him at all times.

As the night grew older, your sobriety began to recede as well. Aaron didn't initially notice what you were trying to do until he felt your hand sliding up his knee and towards his thigh. He sucked a sharp breath when the same hand began to palm him through the slacks he was wearing, suddenly thankful that Spencer Reid—who had been talking with him for the past ten minutes—had his attention stolen by something on the dance floor.

Aaron's fingers circled your wrist. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I wanna play," you said in a slight whine. Your forehead dropped to Aaron's shoulder before you left a kiss on his jawline. "Want you so bad right now, baby."

"Seriously? Right here, right now?" he asked. It wasn't because he had any impartiality to your suggestion. Aaron was merely perplexed by this foreign behavior you were suddenly dispaying.

But between your state of inebriation and Aaron's general stoic nature, something must have gotten lost in translation. Before he knew it, you suddenly pulled away from him as if it burned you to have mere contact with his skin. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, you got out from the booth and teetered faraway from his reach.

"I'm gonna dance with Emily. I'll be right back!"

Following that night, Aaron began observing you with a closer eye. This led him to detect the differences between how you acted around him when your inhibitions were low and when they weren't.

Just like the other day, for example, when you and Aaron were lounging on the couch during one of your routine movie nights at your apartment. In your sleepy haze, you had shuffled your body closer towards Aaron, to the point where you eventually found yourself sprawled across his lap. Aaron's eyes were still on the TV when you started to kiss and suck on his pulse point, your hand slipping inside his shirt to find the hard panes of muscles on his abdomen.

"Sweetheart." Aaron pulled back once your fingers strayed towards the hem of his shorts. "Don't you wanna watch the movie?"

You blinked blatantly at him for a minute, before you yanked your fingers away and pressed yourself to the other end of the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Of course I wanna watch the movie. Sorry, shouldn't have done that. You know what? Actually, I think I'd like to go to sleep now."

Aaron frowned in confusion. "I'll come with you."

"No! No, it's okay. You don't have to. Just finish the movie, handsome. Join me when you're done, alright?"

After movie night, Aaron was determined to confront you about it. About why you seemed to love gluing yourself to him one second, only to recoil as if he just electrocuted you by the next. It was as though you kept prohibiting yourself to touch him, because of what, Aaron wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't like the thought of you being reluctant to be with him in any capacity at all.

The day Aaron sat you down with him, he swore he could smell your trepidation from miles away.

Choosing not to beat around the bush, Aaron decided to dive in head first and ask you the question that had been bothering him, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Despite your immediate denial of his accusation, your body language told a completely different story. Aaron continued to press on, demanding you to tell the truth and promising you that whatever you were going to say, nothing could ever change how he felt about you.

After minutes that seemed like decades, you finally turned to him and exclaimed, "Fine! You wanna know what's going on? I'll tell you what's going on. I'm a fucking nymphomaniac. Happy now?"

Aaron faltered upon hearing your admission.

The sound of your heart shattering was deafening to your ears. Aaron's reaction hurt, no matter how many times you had imagined it in the past. This was the reason why you never said anything. You loved Aaron too much, valued your relationship so severely to the point that you couldn't let anything jeopardizing its future.

Not even the truth about your hidden addiction.

Your entire world collapsed on top of your shoulders, pinning you down as a sigh fell from your lips. "I know this isn't what you signed up for. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I just—I couldn't fathom the thought of you leaving me once you hear the truth. Because you will leave me, I know, you don't even need to say it. I just wanted to be able to love you a little while longer."

"You think I'm gonna leave you?"

Your confused gaze slithered his way. "Why wouldn't you? Everybody else has. I don't blame them. I mean, who wants to be with somebody like me? Sure, society has their own fetish over us. But most people, once they experience being with a nymph for themselves, always end up running away. That's how it's always been."

Silence setlled in the room soon afterward. You hid your head in your palm to evade the shame that clouded over your entire being. You had never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life as you did in that moment. The longer you waited for Aaron's response, the deeper the blade pierced through the beating organ in your chest.

But where you expected expulsion to rain down from your boyfriend, all you could find in the next second was a pair of gentle hands tugging at your wrists. Your eyes opened once more to see Aaron staring back at you ardently.

"No one is going anywhere, sweetheart. I love you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, not even this."

"But any other person—"

"I'm not any other person. I'm yours." The promise was accentuated with a kiss to your knuckles. "And you need to know that there's nothing to be ashamed for about this. We all have demons we battle with every single day. This just happens to be yours. Are you getting the help you need?"

You nodded meekly. "I started going to therapy a year ago, right after I, uh, got fired from my last job. I was falling behind on deadlines because of my addiction. That's when I knew I needed help."

"That's good." Aaron's praise made you preen. "That's amazing, sweetheart. First step to overcome any addiction is to admit that you need help and to seek it. I'm proud of you."

"Really?"

"With my whole heart," he vowed. "You must have been holding back a lot from me these past few months."

"It wasn't easy at first. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how you were going to react, so I just made sure to minimize the chances of you ever finding out about this."

"Is that why you've only ever wanted to have a quickie with me?"

The question caught you off guard. You pressed your face to your boyfriend's shoulder to hide your fluster. "Aaron—"

"It's just a question." He chuckled. "But I'm gonna take that as a yes. How else have you been trying to cope?"

More heat traveled to your face. You felt lewd even thinking about replying honestly to Aaron's question, but the longer you stayed in his arms, the more you realized that there was nothing to be scared about. This was Aaron, after all; loving, compassionate, and understanding in ways that you thought weren't even possible. If there was ever anyone who would understand your struggles instead of judging you for it, that person would be him.

So, with a deep breath, you opted to lay down your book as open as possible. "I usually just... watch porn and masturbate. Toys help a lot. I used to go numerous times a day, but now I can sometimes survive with doing it just once a day. It's convenient that my current job is freelancing as well. And my therapist has also encouraged me to explore new hobbies whenever I can. I just tried crocheting last week."

"How was it?"

"Crocheting? Absolutely terrible. I don't think these fingers were made to crochet." You frowned, chastising the digits in your hands with your judgemental eyes.

Aaron's whole body shook when he laughed, sending vibrations right into your bloodstream. He pulled back to look straight into your eyes, smiling when he saw the adorable pout on your lips.

"Will you show me?" he suddenly asked.

"Show you what?"

"Who you are. What you like. I want you to show me what happens when you don't hold back."

"I don't think that's a good idea—"

"I'm not saying you need to throw away all the progress you've made so far, sweetheart. I just wanna understand you better. I wanna know how I can help you. Please?"

And that was exactly how Aaron found himself sitting on the love seat in your bedroom that night, gripping the armrests as he watched you spread out on the bed like the best last meal of a man's filthiest fantasy.

You were laid down on the mattress, writhing in pleasure from the vibrator shoved deep inside your weeping cunt. You had cummed twice before this, the first time from your fingers and the second from a dildo without Aaron ever touching you, and you were still going as if your stamina hadn't depleted in the slightest.

"Aaron... fuck. I'm so, oohhhh, s-so close."

"I know, sweetheart. I can see the way your hole grips that toy. Do you wanna cum?"

You nodded your head frantically. "Please! Please, I need to cum!"

"Turn the setting higher, princess, and press the shorter handle to your clit."

You followed his instructions, turning the vibrator to its maximum setting and touched the smaller simulator to your engorged clit. A euphoric scream fell from your lips at the overwhelming sensation, and before long, the coil in your belly finally snapped into pieces.

"I'm—oh, I'm cumming so much, Aaron! Ah! Ah! Yeesss, 'm making such a mess, mmmhhh."

You kept the vibrator on until the last ripples of your orgasm subsided. Once you tossed the toy aside, you crawled off the bed and sauntered towards where Aaron was sitting.

Your state of undress was a contrast to Aaron, who was still clad in his buttoned-up shirt and slacks. You threw your legs on either side of his thighs to straddle him, pressing your bare core directly on top of his nether region. Without wasting a breath, you began to move your hips against the tent in his boxers, smearing juices and cum on Aaron's pants as you ground your pussy against his clothed erection.

"Sweetheart." Aaron's hands went to your hips. "Not tired yet?"

"Never for you, Aaron."

You leaned down to claim his lips, kissing him fervently like he was the singular source of oxygen you breathed. Your kisses soon trailed down his body as you made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and pants. When you suddenly got up from his lap to kneel on the ground, Aaron studied you in wonder.

"What are you doing, angel?"

"Wanna taste you, Aaron. Wanna make you feel so good. Please?"

Who would ever say no to that?

In a flash, the two of you freed Aaron from the confinement of his pants and briefs. His erection sprung free once his clothes were out of the way, standing proud and tall against the muscles of his abdomen.

You licked your lips at the sight of his beautiful cock. Before tonight, you never allowed yourself to stare directly too long at it in fear of the repercussions it might bring due to your addiction. But as you knelt there, arousal dripping between your thighs like waterfall, you couldn't help but curse your past self for denying you such pleasure. Aaron's cock was beautiful, moderate in length but gifted in girth, leaking pre-cum from the tip, making the head red and shiny.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving a few lazy tugs to smear the pre-cum around before intensifying your ministrations. At the first touch of your lips on the tip of his cock, Aaron couldn't stop the hiss from escaping his throat.

"Fuck. Feels so good, princess. You're making me feel so good."

Aaron's praises only spurred you on even further. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, matching the rhythm with your hand's movements around Aaron's girth. The moans that tumbled free from your boyfriend's chest were music to your ears. You had even started to rib your thighs against one another, desperate to create any level of friction that would alleviate the throbbing need in your pussy, a fact that didn't escape Aaron's notice as he watched you with lust-lidded eyes.

"You're getting yourself off, sweetheart? Does sucking my cock get you all hot and bothered?"

Aaron's words went straight to your core, making you whine around Aaron's cock. The vibrations Aaron felt from your mouth made him groan loudly.

"Fuck. I'm so close, princess."

You released him with a pop at the new information. Your lazy eyes took in the sight of Aaron's face that had seemingly been taken over by euphoria.

"Use me, Aaron."

Aaron's eyes fell wide open at the request.

"Go and use my mouth for your pleasure. Wanna make you feel so good, handsome."

With that, you wrapped your mouth once more around his girth. Aaron's fingers instantly went to your head, holding you in place as he began fucking your mouth as if it was his personal fleshlight. In a way, it probably was. You could've smiled at Aaron's dominance if you weren't so busy trying to control your breathing.

"You feel like heaven, sweetheart. Holy shit. So warm and wet. I'm gonna cum down your throat, 's that what you want?"

You nodded your head frantically, feeling tears already starting to pool around your waterlines.

"Go on, then. Take it all, goregous. Swallow all of it—every. single. drop."

One last thrust into you, and Aaron was emptying himself down your throat. You swallowed every single drop you could while the rest was left to drip down your chin. You withdrew at last only to clean up the residual cum along Aaron's shaft, grinning in pride when he hissed at the feeling of your tongue running along his protruding veins.

Your kisses eventually wandered upward, towards Aaron's awaiting lips that welcomed you eagerly when you pressed against them in a kiss. Aaron's hands instinctively gripped your hips when you settled back on his lap, your fingers rushing to peel the loosely hanging shirt completely off his back.

When your hand flew down to wrap around his still half-hardened cock, Aaron's entire body shuddered in reflex.

"Sweetheart—"

"Please, Aaron. Need to have you inside me. Hm? We'll go slow, I promise."

There was no way he could have such a beautiful and tantalizing woman such as yourself, begging to fuck him, only for him to say no. Aaron would be the most idiotic man in the world if he let that happen.

So, he rested his head back against the seat as he watched you pepper a million tiny kisses across his chest, all the while never diminishing the ministrations on his cock. It didn't take long for Aaron to get hard again, and when he did, you wasted no time in pressing his swollen red tip against your puffy pussy.

When you finally slid him inside your throbbing walls, Aaron thought he was going to pass out.

"Ohhhh, Aaron," you mewled once he was fully seathed inside. "You're filling me so good, baby. You're so fucking big."

Aaron was sure words would fail him miserably at that moment, so he settled with planting his hands on your hips instead of a verbal response.

In no time at all, you began moving above him. Slowly, at first, but then the rhythm found you almost immediately. You were warm and wet from the previous orgasms you had, and the amount of juices leaking out of your cunt only amplified the obscene sound of your lovemaking within the four walls of the bedroom. Aaron watched in awe at the sight of you on top of him; so lost in pleasure and visibly free for the first time in what felt like a long time. You caught his stare when you looked down, leaning closer to kiss him between the gasps tumbling past your lips.

"Shit, princess. You're gripping me so good. I can smell you, sweetheart."

Your responding moan was the most melodic thing that ever graced Aaron's ears. "Yeesss, Aaron, you're so fucking deep in my pussy—ohhh. Can feel you all the way inside, baby."

Your lips strayed towards the column of Aaron's neck, where you trailed wet kisses all the way across his collarbones. The movements of your hips only became that much more frantic with every second that ticked by.

"You're so beautiful, Aaron. I love you so much." You sobbed against his chest. Aaron instantaneously circled his arms around your torso. "You're the only one who makes me feel good like this, baby—mmphh."

"Yeah? I'm the only one?"

"Just you. No one else."

You gasped out of the blue in the next second, your mind going hazy when the head of Aaron's cock punched the erogenous spot inside your cunt right at its center. Your hips grew even more erratic. Aaron could feel your walls gripping him tighter, and knowing what was certainly about to come, he brought his hand down and started drawing circular patterns over your sensitive clit.

"Aahhh! Aaron! I'm s-so close, mmhh. I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

Aaron continued fucking up into you as your climax washed your entire being like a tsunami. The constant stimulation in your pussy, along with the one administered to your clit, prolonged the orgasmic bliss until you couldn't sit upright anymore. With a few more powerful thrusts, Aaron came shortly behind you, shooting loads and loads of cum into your womb until your insides were flooded with warmth.

In the aftermath of both of your pinnacles, you and Aaron clung to each other as if it was your last day together on earth.

"So—" Aaron's voice aroused in the otherwise silent bedroom.

"So—" you parroted, glancing up at your boyfriend who was already looking down towards your face, "—how was it? Too much?"

Aaron shrugged. The smile on his face was the perfect picture of smugness. "I think I can keep up."

You punched him lightly on his shoulder. "You say that now. You're gonna be thinking differently when sex doesn't become exciting anymore since I ask for it every single hour of every day. You'll look at me differently."

"Hey. I told you, that's not gonna happen." Aaron slid his hand against your cheek, keeping your head in place so he could stare directly into your eyes. "I'll help you with your needs to the best of my capacity, and I promise to tell you whenever I feel like I need a break. It's a compromise. You have me, sweetheart. And you're still going to therapy as well, so you're gonna be fine. Trust me."

Aaron secured his declaration with a sweet kiss to your forehead. As you lay there in his arms, you couldn't help but thank the stars for sending someone who was willing to try to understand you better despite what society would expect him to. You knew that in a few hours, your condition would cause the raging arousal to burn once more in the pit of your belly. But at that specific moment in time, you were quite pleased to just rest in the safety of Aaron's embrace, where being yourself finally didn't feel like a crime that could potentially sentence you to a lifetime of imprisonment.

In the safety of Aaron's embrace, you were finally free.

[byhees]

pouty ━━ ( 엔하이픈 정원 ) ♡ genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames

thinking about boyfriend jungwon who gets particularly sulky during three specific circumstances; one, when you intentionally— outright, with the obvious turn of your head— avoid his kisses. now that, is plain torture to him. heck, even the mere imagination of it has his brows digging deep into his skin; imagine, after coming home from a long, and awfully tiring day, you just want to crash into your partner’s arms and pepper little kisses all over their face… when, bam, they whip their head in the opposite direction, your lips now meeting plain air…!! wuuu, that simple thought sends shivers down his spine; and so, it’s only natural that he pucker his lips in the wake of a little pout, eyes blinking up to meet your own… and oh my, he can see the playful sheen imbued in them…

second, when you baby his dog— i mean, have a listen to that! when you come over to his place with the intention of hanging out and binge-watching movies, it’s only right to run up to his embrace and sit comfy with him on the couch— but nOOO you go straight to his dog, body now seated on the tiled floor of the living room. “who’s a cute boy~?” EXCUSE ME?? truthfully speaking, this must be a new method of betrayal because hey!! you’re supposed to call him ‘cute’ and shower him with kisses!! and so, he simply slumps on the couch, narrowed gaze fixated on you both, a pout playing on his lips.

last, but not least, when you crawl out of bed in the early mornings, and expect for him to fall back asleep without your warm cuddles; how could he?? he needs to hear your pretty voice, he needs his kisses, he needs his hugs— and no! it’s not the same as hugging a pillow. “baby? where are you going?” he’d ask, eyelids fluttering open from the light movement; and in a mere few seconds, his eyes are shot open, because what do you mean you have to get going to class, and that the professor’s not going to give you any leeway?? that’s ridiculous! blasphemous, actually! oh… but what else can he do, besides sitting up and attempting to coax you back into bed, a small pout tugging on his lips?

note to self, if you don’t wish to see an extremely sulky, and very pouty, jungwon, follow this guide of ‘not-to-do’s!

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[descendantsramblings]

Hi :)) idk if you’re accepting requests but I was just thinking…

I remembered that Hook canonically went to Eaton College, which is a pretty prestigious university, so he must actually be really fricking smart. I wish I knew what he studied tho :/ So anyway, I was hoping maybe you would write something (preferably x reader?) where he surprises everyone with his intelligence? I feel like the other VKs probably don’t actually know just how clever he is and would be taken off guard to realise it. I don’t have any specific situations in mind but I’d really like to see maybe reader acknowledge and recognise him as more than the pretty rebel he lets everyone see him as

I’m always accepting requests, it’s so fun getting to make things for someone, and it’s great writing practice. I’m almost done with all the ones I have, keep them coming 🩵

I love secretly smart characters, making a right old Evie out of him right now. I love him. (I had so many tabs open to get this right, so so many. I did Chemistry for the gag but it wasn’t worth the gag.)

Studious

James Hook x VK!Reader

Pronouns used: they/them/theirs

Summary: If it means that much to his partner, Hook can be a bit of a tutor

Warnings: pet names, swearing, sexual references, high school chemistry (Like the actual class that made me cry when I was a student), does sword fighting need a trigger warning?, Or fake moaning? Hook's partner making a joke about him having a thing for Morgie, Uliana almost makes a potion explode

Word Count: 3.5K

      Nervous fingers are shuffling through flashcards as the pirate walks into their dorm. His smirk being accompanied by raised eyebrows as he leans on the door frame, taking in the sight. They have their textbook and notebook spread out across the floor, sitting cross legged between the two. Pens and highlighters strewn around them and an empty notebook and study guide directly before them. (Y/n) is staring at them with a pout and wide eyes, huffing as they drop the flash cards beside them. “This is fucking ridiculous,” the words are barely a mumble, popping the knuckles on stressed hands as they say it. They stretch their shoulders back as well before reaching back down for the collection of brightly colored cardstock. 

   “Since when do you have to study, wizkid?” The words make their head shoot up, staring at the boy they hadn’t noticed had entered. “Since Chemistry is kicking my ass, I have to pass this exam or I’m going to fail the class again. If I fail it twice this year I won’t have enough credits to be a senior next year,” their voice is far too fast, rambling on as they reach back down for their study guide. “I thought you exempted all your exams,” he tilts his head as he speaks, watching them shuffle their cards for the third time since he made his way into the room. “Yeah, well I bombed my last two tests -like fifty-two and thirty-five level bombed- and all the As and Bs I have on experiments can’t save me there. So either I make an A on this exam or I fail the entire class for the second time. I am so royally screwed.” With a sigh, Hook makes his way over to the villain on the floor, falling to sit before them with crossed legs and an outstretched hand. “Give me the cards.” “No, I seriously need to study, James. I cannot go do whatever Uli sent you in here  for right now.” 

   He scoffs, leaning forward to snatch the cards from their loose grip on them. “I can come see my partner just because I want to be around them, you know. I don’t always have to be doing something for the group. I do enjoy your company, wouldn't be your boyfriend otherwise.” Dark eyes widen mockingly with raised brows as he finished the sentiment, head shaking in a near-bratty manner. He flips through the cards, letting his eyes ghost over the words and formulas. This was basic chemistry. He did this his sophomore year, he could probably do it in his sleep. “Even then, James, I really need to study. I cannot fail this again.” He lets his eyes cut up to them, a smirk still present across his pouty lips. “Oh of course you do, I can’t have my partner as a super senior. That’s just embarrassing for us both,” he drops the cards into his lap, reaching over for their study guide. He flips it over a time or two, barely reading it. 

  “Okay,” they draw out the word, reaching out to snatch their cards back from where they rest on his thigh, “Then let me study. Really, Honey, can’t you go harass Morgie or Bridget or something?” “Why harass them when my favorite person is right here struggling with the easiest subject ever? That’s much better material.”  (Y/n) scoffs, looking up at him from their flashcards. James is too busy looking over the back of their study guide to give them so much as a second glance, but his face holds this cocky expression. As if the boy is challenging them to snap back. “The easiest subject ever? As if. I bet you got a B in there at absolute best. I need more than a B on this to pass.” “I actually finished Chemistry One with a perfect score and finished AP Chemistry Two with a ninety-nine percent, since you’re asking.” He drops the papers into his lap, raising an eyebrow with the same challenging look in his eye as when he’s sparring against them. His hand shoots out for the cards again, flipping it from the one that they had been looking at and giving it a sparing glance. Eyes cutting back up to his partner just as quickly as they cut down, “Now, what is the definition of an intensive property?” 

    So they’re really doing this? (Y/n) guesses they shouldn’t argue, they do need the help. And if James is anywhere near as good as he says, this might be their best bet. “An intensive property is,” they let their eyes dart around the room, as if the decor on their walls would hold the answer. “Come on now, Love. Don’t draw it out. What’s an intensive property?” They bite their lip, looking down to their empty lap, “An intensive property is a property which does not rely on the amount of matter present.” A golden hook comes into their line of sight, tucking under their chin to lift their head up. When they look at Hook, he’s inches away from them, “Okay, and what are examples of an intensive property?” The hook beneath their chin moves, the sharp edge barely hovering below their skin. No looking away this time, that was a silent command for their eyes on him. “Boiling and melting points, density, and,” they snap their fingers, dragging out the one syllable word as they think. “And? Come on now, you know this.” “And,” they lock eyes with him, by god those brown eyes were captivating. It was like they were electric, sparking with some sense of excitement and pride that they couldn’t understand. Electric, that’s something right? Electricity isn’t a property of something though, but it seemed right. Why does it seem right? What did electricity have to do with intensive properties? “Conductivity,” they subconsciously cross the fingers on their right hand, staring into their boyfriend’s eyes with a longing to be correct. He nods, pulling them forward slightly. James kisses them with a feather light touch, smiling against their lips as they attempt to draw him closer. “See, I knew you knew it.” 

   They don’t get to respond before he’s drawing back, completely withdrawing his touch as he flips to the next card, dropping “intensive properties” to his lap. “What’s an atomic number?”  “What? No, what was that? You barely kissed me,” they’re pouting, reaching out for a jaw that’s pulling away from them. “What’s an atomic number?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, pulling further away as they get on their knees to chase his fleeting lips, “If you want to kiss me you have to answer the question.” “The number of neutrons in an atom's nucleus. Now kiss me again,” they’re fully perched on their knees now, leaning over him as he leans back to get away. James makes a loud noise similar to the sound of a buzzer going off, dropping the card in his hand and using them to cover his mouth. “What is an isotope?” (Y/n) falls back with a huff, completely discouraged as they stare with gaped lips, “What? Where’s my kiss?” 

     He pulls the cards down to smirk over the neon green paper, “I don’t reward wrong answers.” “I wasn’t wrong!” “You were, it’s not the neutrons in the nucleus but what?” A frown crosses the villain’s lips, shoulders slumping as they realize what they’d done. “Protons.” He nods, humming as he raises his brows, “Okay, new question, what’s an isotope?” “You’re awful, this is awful.”  “What’s an isotope?” They rise back up on their knees with a smirk, “What about, one kiss when I correct myself, two kisses when I’m right the first time?” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he does, “How about you tell me what an isotope is?” “Oh come on,” they’re whining, a hand wrapping around his hook. “Come on and answer the question.” His brows are raised, watching them pout. With wide eyes and batted lashes they let a hand trail up from metal to leather, slowly making its way up to his shoulder. “Captain, won’t you please give me a kiss? I want one so bad. I need your lips.” In any other circumstance that would work, it always worked. But James was already glowing as he looked over notecards, shaking his head with his smirk far more of a smile than normal. “That’s not going to work this time, Love. Now answer the question.” This might just be his new torture method, and by god is it working. (Y/n) was going to go crazy if they didn’t get what they wanted soon. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

   As a pirate, Hook was no stranger to drawing out torture, but he couldn’t stand to sit still for long. His love of chemistry and watching the gorgeous villain in front of him squirm could only keep him bound to one place for so long until he felt as if he might be going stir crazy. Which is how they ended up in a clearing in the woods, standing in a wide stance with swords balanced in their hands. Iron making a sharp “X” between them as they press against one another.  The ravenous look in (Y/n)’s eyes surely matched the crazed look in his, smirks present on either villain’s lips. They made one hell of a sparring partner, he’d learned that the day they met. Never took much to get the two of them alone like this either, the boy longed for the other villain’s sportsmanship. A worthy opponent was hard to come by outside of Neverland, and his lover looked so good while sword fighting that he struggled to focus. Now though, as he spits out questions they struggle to follow, it seems like they knew how he normally felt. 

    They might have quick feet and strong arms, but their pretty mind is making them lag behind. Each time their swords would cross, he’d spurt out a new question, holding them hostage until they could find an answer he saw as fitting. Each wrong answer was met with a strike to their left, correct answers with a strike to their right. They’d start a new battle, clashing metal and devious laughter until one of them could find the other pinned once again. It was the most fun he’d had in years, that annoyed little pout on their face with each new question seemed to only make the game all the more fun. “What’s the atomic number of gold?” “Hook,” despite their tense body language, the name comes out on a whine, pout growing more than the boy thought was possible. “It is gold, yes, now what would its atomic number be?” He’s chuckling to himself and he awaits their response. Their eyes flicker around him, lip between their teeth. “Seventy-nine.” He jumps back from them, sword striking out at their right side. The motion is caught by their own sword while (Y/n) lets out a giggle. 

   “I got it right!” They use their sword to force the tip of his away, turning their body to the left as they strike out above his left shoulder. “That you did, Love,” he swings to the right with a smile, bringing his sword up to push against theirs. He twists his body, gaining the upper hand as he pushes against them. (Y/n) is cringing, realizing how close they were to being cornered by him again. How could they let themself get so distracted? He’s pushing them back, and though they push forward, their sword slides down again, both villains ending up eye to eye with a new iron cross section between them. “You made that too easy,” James smirks, looking them up and down. “I didn’t, you just, that question threw me off. I don’t even know how I knew the answer.” He shakes his head, “You can’t let yourself get thrown off in a sword fight love. Your other opponents might not be as forgiving as me.” He leans over the swords for a moment, pecking their lips before he squares his shoulders back. 

   Hook’s resistance was always strong and unforgiving in a fight, even when he allowed himself a moment of calm in the storm he created. The boy pushes harder on their swords, smirking at his lover as he raises an eyebrow. “What’s a homogeneous mixture?” There’s this flicker of something in his partner’s eyes. A giggle escaping their lips as they smile at him, head tilting to the side. “Isn’t that what you and Morgie are?” He pushes rougher against them, feeling the way their laughter shakes the sword in their iron grip. “Very funny, Darling. Now answer the question, unless you want to walk the plank,” he’s stepping closer, their swords sliding ever so slightly straighter against each other. “You wouldn’t dare, you love me too much.” He hums, shaking his head, “Positive? According to you, I love Morgie, so which is it?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

     “You two are late,” she doesn’t look up from her cauldron as she speaks, Uliana automatically knows who’s wandering in by their footsteps. The sounds are perfectly in sync, heavy pairs of boots falling in time as if they moved as one. When the two become visible in the hideout, their faces are red with a sweat sheen across their foreheads. Hook’s arm adoringly around (Y/n)’s waist as they lean against him,  the clothing of both teens ruffled from the movements they’d made while jousting. It’s cozy, needy, and the couple’s appearance quickly attracts the attention of Morgie and Hades. Both boys look to their friends with a smirk, cutting each other a sparing glance before turning back. “What have you two been up to?” Hades gives them a once over taking in how Hook’s shirt had come untucked and the wrinkles in the hem of (Y/n)’s top. “Been helping (Y/n) study for chemistry,” Hook shrugs, falling into a chair and pulling his partner down into his lap. Warm arms encapsulate the villain as they lean into his touch, smiling as his head settles on their left shoulder. A kiss being pressed to the shell of their ear earning the boy a hum.

     The sound of Hades laughing fills the room, his eyes rolling in their sockets, “Yeah, I’m sure you have been.” Hook can tell where this is going from a mile away, especially with the gorgeous look of exhaustion taking over his lover’s face. Relaxed muscles that are hidden behind heat blushed flesh. Sweat shines on their forehead and neck while their eyelids hang lower than normal. (Y/n) always looked tired and blissed out after a good duel, smiling lazily as they cling to him. He knew how they looked, and with the genuine topic at hand it definitely seemed like Hook had done nothing more than making an innuendo. If he was honest, part of him hoped that the boys thought it was an innuendo, tutoring just wasn’t his style. “We were, Hades. Excellent study session, actually. Of course, (Y/n) has always been the smartest person I know.” The god raises his brows, smirk growing as he turns to Morgie, “You don’t say. Morgie, I bet you overhear a lot of those study sessions, don’t you?” The sorcerer smirks right back, an evil glint resting in his eyes, “Oh yeah, I think the last one was English though. Studying a poem maybe?” 

    (Y/n) feels Hook’s hand sneak onto their thigh as the boys talk, an amused smirk resting on their face. He lets his fingers spread, taking up as much of the plush part of their leg as he can. “Really, Morgie? Why would you say that?” Hades is letting his eyes flicker between the overly cozy couple and Morgie as he speaks, watching for tell-tale signs that the villains were flustered. “Oh you know, I just recognized the opening line,” his finger taps his chin as he speaks, “What was it again? Oh yeah!” Morgie’s face falls to mimic a blissed out expression, hand gripping on his chest as he speaks on a nearly pornographic moan, “Oh Captain, my Captain!” Hades and Morgie fall into each other’s sides laughing, the noise they’re making earning an annoyed scoff from a preoccupied Uliana. “If you two idiots could make yourself useful, that would be great,” she’s turning, grabbing a vial of rattlesnake venom from a shelf. 

   “Study session isn’t over, Love,” Hook’s voice is soft, plush lips moving against the shell of their ear as he whispers. His words lead to them whining, head falling back against his shoulder as they pout. “My head is too full, Baby. I’ve had enough.” He chuckles, kissing their cheek as his finger moves across their thigh in an “S” shape. “Tell me the element,” he whispers, repeating the shape across their leg. “Sulfur,” they mumble, eyes focusing in on the way Uliana moves. He kisses their shoulder, “Good job.” He draws a circle next. “Oxygen.” Another kiss falls on their shoulder. It becomes a pattern. He’d draw the symbol of an element on their thigh, they would tell him the name of it. The shape repeats until they get it right, ones they got correct on the first try lead to them being rewarded with a kiss to the shoulder or neck. 

    Somewhere, though it’s partially tuned out by the pirate and his lover, Morgie is explaining what Uliana is up to.  Something about making a potion to sneak into Charming’s food, apparently he spilt Uliana’s drink all over her when she was leaving a coffee shop. Some sort of spell to make the boy clumsy enough to spill everything on himself for twenty four hours. (Y/n) can’t focus on that, not with the way that James is tracing a “Y” on their inner thigh. What element’s symbol was “Y”? “You’re making that up,” they mumble and he shakes his head against them in response. “Think harder.” “It’s too hard to think when you’re doing it there,” the words come out in a hiss, eyes cutting over their shoulder to see the smirk on his face. “Try harder then, Love.” 

   Maleficent makes her way past them, holding a little vial of something as she does. “It took forever to find this shit in the AP Chem room, just so you know. Better be worth the trouble.” Uliana scoffs, reaching an arm out for it, “It will be.” Hades and Morgie stand up to follow the dark pixie, the god cutting James and (Y/n) a look. His eyes zero in on Hook’s hand, laughing softly, “God, Hook, you are just insatiable.” The pirate winks at him over (Y/n)’s shoulder, kissing their shoulder as they softly mumble, “Yttrium.” “Good job,” he coos, letting his eyes follow the other villains. Maleficent said she’d taken something from the chem room, what is it?     “What you got there, Mali?” She turns to smirk at Hook, “Finishing ingredient to the potion. Though, it looks like we could have just got it off of (Y/n). What have you been doing to them to have them sweating like that, Hook?” His brows furrow, looking at the vial of powder in Uliana’s hand as she stands dangerously close to the fire-heated cauldron. They could get it from (Y/n)’s sweat? What could she be- his blood runs cold as Uliana goes to pull the stopper out of the bottle.

  “Uliana, don’t!” He’s throwing a very startled (Y/n) off of his lap as he jumps up, running towards the group. “What, you have a soft spot for Charming now?” He’s shaking his head furiously as he reaches out for the vial. “You can’t put that in there right now. It needs to cool.” Her  arms cross, holding the vial away from his panicked hand. “What are you talking about?”  Dark eyes stay trained on the vial, shaking his head as he speaks, “That’s sodium, right? That’s what the joke about the sweat means?” She nods, a brow raised as she waves a hand for him to hurry up and explain himself. “So, you cannot add heat to sodium.” “People add heat to salt all the time, Hook. We’ll be fine.”  She’s not listening, she never listens.

   “It’s not salt, Uli. Sodium is only half of salt.” “The other half is chlorine,” (Y/n) calls out from the other side of the room. And Hook smiles slightly, giving them a thumbs up behind his back. “So what, you’re saying that I can’t use it?” Uliana is obviously growing tired of him, but there seems to be a gear turning in Maleficent's head. “Not with heat, unless you don’t like having eyebrows,” Hook shakes his head, an arm once again reaching out for the vial. “Are you threatening me?” He groans, dragging his hand down his face, “Fine Uliana, add heat to Sodium and make it explode. Explode with it for all I care. It’s your funeral.”  Hades looks between the two, watching Hook storm away from them as he extinguishes the fire under the cauldron. “Uliana, just let it cool. Hook, you two were actually studying chemistry?” He scoffs, waving him off, “I am more than a pretty face, Hades.” “But, you were all tired and sweaty?” “Made me answer questions while we were sword fighting,” (Y/n) shrugs. “But, his hand moving on your inner thigh?” “Tracing atomic symbols on their thigh,” Hook shrugs, reaching out for his partner who walks into his arms with a giggle. They were actually studying? Who in their right mind studies like that? Not that Hades has ever thought the couple were in their right mind.

[jinkoh]

if you want to get hurt so badly

sunwoo x gn!reader

part of my soulmate series

summary: you'd always assumed you didn't have a soulmate but as it turns out you do—and he is very keen on helping you with your struggles...

wc: 2k

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, suggestive, sunwoo is so mean but also very sweet;

warnings: graphic depictions of self-harm—pls be honest with yourself and do not read if that is potentially triggering to you, and reach out to someone if self-harm is something you’re struggling with. there is also a brief mention of suicide, but no one is actually suicidal and there are/were no actual attempts or plans on that. do not read if you're under 18.

a/n: been a while since i posted anything for my soulmate au so it was about time i think~

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You shouldn’t be doing this, not in this empty lecture room or at all. But it seemed so tempting, the blade of your scissors drawing you in like a siren’s call. The thought had been there a zillion times and it wouldn’t be the first time you’d given in. But it’d been a long time since. Still, you remembered the feeling of it so well. With every time you’d given in, the hurdle to take a blade to your skin had weakened, fear and shame overpowered by the desire for that sweet release you were craving so much. It was only this once, just to see how it feels and then suddenly you woke up with scars on your wrist that you hoped no soulmate would have to share with you. Not that you really had any hopes to have one, because if you did they must have been really good at not getting hurt. It was more likely you didn’t have one, and it seemed fitting, really. You’d always felt alone anyway, even in a room full of people, even in between family or friends. It was ridiculous to think that someone like you could possibly have a soulmate. No, it was just you. Just you and your scissors, like now, in this empty lecture room. You glanced around one more time anyway, to be safe, but of course everyone had gone by now. You opened the scissors, your hand shaking as you held it against your wrist. Then you pulled it down, feeling that familiar sting as it broke your skin. It wasn’t a deep cut, just a scratch, but it was enough to draw blood, little red beads appearing in its wake. It was enough to hurt, too.

You raised the blade once more, about to draw it over your wrist again, but you got interrupted by the sound of the door being forcefully pushed open.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Your head snapped around to the source of the voice and the scissors you were holding clattered to the floor.

“Nothing,” you pressed out, staring at Sunwoo like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing?” He raised an eyebrow, as he slowly stepped closer. You instinctively hid your wrist beneath your hand, as if there was any way you could still hide this from him after what he’d seen. To your surprise though, he didn’t pay attention to your arm. Instead he pulled up his own sleeve, revealing a thin red line on his smooth skin. “Does this look like nothing to you?”

For a moment you stared at the mark, unable to connect the dots. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked just like the scratch you’d inflicted on yourself. You glanced at your own bruise, to compare, to make sure. 

“What? Surprised?” He scoffed. “Well, I could have imagined something better too. Mainly someone who isn’t keen on leaving ugly marks on my skin.”

You felt overwhelmed, still not quite able to comprehend all of this. Shame and horror welling up within you. You hadn’t wanted anyone to know about this part of yourself, about the intrusive thoughts that had been haunting you since you were a teenager. And Sunwoo specifically didn’t seem like the kind of person who would understand, and yet he was the person you were confronted with now, your soulmate. You barely even knew him and you could probably count the times you’d talked to him on one hand. Sure, your friend circles somewhat overlapped, but he didn’t seem to be that close to your friends and you weren’t that close to anyone.  There were a few classes you had together, that he mostly slept through and you’d been to his place once, to pregame, but even then you hadn’t exchanged a single word aside from hello. And that was supposed to be all the connection you had. But somehow, through some twisted joke of fate, this person was your soulmate. A soulmate you’d never thought you had in the first place. And that meant he’d seen it all. Not just today, but every single day, every single instance when you’d given in. The thought that every bruise you’d ever left on your body had appeared on his skin too made you feel exposed and naked. You couldn’t help but wonder what he must have felt when he’d seen them. Pity? Anger? Disgust? 

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t know what? That I’m your soulmate?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

“Well, now you do. So don’t you dare even think about that again.” You thought his expression softened a little, something akin to worry in his eyes. But then he bent down to pick up the scissors that had fallen to the floor, and when he raised his head up, his face was cold again. 

“What’s so great about this anyway?” He asked, turning the scissors in his hand to inspect it. His gaze followed the movement as he opened the silver blades, bringing one of them up to his wrist like a knife. Your eyes widened in shock and you instinctively wanted to grab his hand to stop him from cutting himself, even though you’d just done the same thing to yourself. But Sunwoo had no intention to do it in the first place, flipping the scissors back around and holding them out for you to take. Unsure what he was expecting you to do, you reached out, but he pulled away again before you could get a hold on them. His free hand came up to your jaw, tilting up your chin and making you look at him. “If you want to get hurt so badly, just come to me next time. I’m sure we can do something for you. But no more of this bullshit. Understood?” 

It wasn’t that he was cutting off your airways, but you still struggled to breathe, the situation pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. You felt panicked, but there was also a weird heat crawling up under your skin and making it prickle. 

“I asked you a question.” His grip tightened when you didn’t respond, making it borderline painful. You felt tears stinging in your eyes but you willed them away, trying to withstand his gaze.

“Understood,” you choked out. 

He let go then, a small smile on his lips as he handed back the scissors. “I knew you could behave,” he whispered and his voice made shivers run down your spine. “I’ll see you around then.”

You tried to stay out of his way after that, too ashamed of yourself to face him. The scratch on your wrist was healing, and you fought the urge to pick at it, because you knew he would see. You also fought the urge to add new wounds too, but it was getting impossible to bear. Every time you held back just brought you closer to tipping over, the need to do something burning under your skin. You tried a zillion different coping mechanisms and alternative behaviors but nothing was quite able to scratch that itch. Still, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t, not when he would see it all. Just come to me next time. You didn’t think that he’d actually meant it and if anything it had sounded more like a threat than an offer. But as you were running out of options, you found yourself at his doorstep, anxious and sleep deprived and drenched from the rain that’d been pouring down nonstop for days now.

Sunwoo opened his door with a cocky grin, leaning against the frame. “Oh? A lost puppy?”

You didn’t even have the energy to indulge his stupid teasing, too desperate and miserable to pay it any mind. “You said you’d help me.”

“Sure did.”

“So, do something,” you pressed out, your arms wrapped around your body to try and keep you warm. “Make it hurt less. Or make it hurt more.”

He stepped aside. “Come in.”

You had expected him to be rough with you, distracting you from your stupid urges by making it hurt, filling the void inside of you with pain. But instead his touch was sweet, warm and gentle. It was hard to bear, because you didn’t think you deserved this kind of affection, and maybe because you didn’t think you’d ever received it before either.

“You can be mean, you know,” you eventually mumbled.

Sunwoo lifted his gaze from where he’d been kissing you neck, his hand that’d been pushing under your shirt coming to a halt. “Do you want me to be?” It wasn’t a flirty, teasing question. His tone and his eyes on you were serious.

“I—I don’t know—didn’t you say you’d make it hurt?”

“I didn’t. And I won’t.” He propped himself up a bit, just to lean down and brush his lips against yours. “I’m not going to help you self-destruct.”

You felt caught. It was like he’d set out a trap for you, and you fell right in, believing he’d let you use him to hurt yourself, just to be confronted with whatever this was. 

“So then, what?” You choked out, not meeting his gaze with your teary eyes. “What’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” he reached for your wrist, softly pressing his lips against your scarred skin, “I thought you could use someone treating you gently, since you struggle to be gentle with yourself.” He left another kiss on your skin, “Do you want me to stop?”

The tears were spilling out now, running down your cheeks and soaking his pillow. You shook your head, “No.”

“Good,” he whispered, leaving your wrist to rest above your head to attach his lips to yours again, his thumb brushing your tears away. “Just leave it to me.”

 “Can I ask you something?” you whispered, tucked into Sunwoo’s arms.

He hummed affirmatively.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” His voice tickled against the back of your neck, “That you’re my soulmate?”

“Yeah.”

“You had the scars to bruises I remembered worrying about. I just knew it was you.”

“From the start?”

“Pretty much.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

You kept quiet for a moment, your hand finding his that was wrapped around your waist. You let your fingers run over his skin and he opened his palm to let you trace the lines. “How do you feel about it?” you eventually asked.

“Hm,” he considered for a moment, “relieved?”

“Why?” How anyone could feel relieved to find out you were their soulmate was beyond you. 

It was silent for a while and you wondered if he would reply at all, but then he mumbled a response into your hair, barely audible, “because you’re alive.”

You’d thought you’d cried enough already, but now you felt yourself choking up again, tears welling up in your eyes. “You thought I'd kill myself?”

“I only ever saw your pain. How could I be sure you wouldn’t? How could I be sure you didn’t?” he pulled you closer to his chest, “I wanted to be relieved when there weren’t any new marks coming, and I wanted to be proud of you. But there was always this fear—I had no way to tell if you’d stopped hurting or if you’d stopped breathing altogether.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You’re still here. That's what matters.”

“Still, I did it again,” your voice was trembling and you wanted to curl in on yourself, make yourself small enough to disappear, “I let you down.” 

“No, no, you didn’t,” Sunwoo gently urged you to turn around in his arms, making you look at him, “there’s no way I could feel let down when you’re hurting.” He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your wet cheeks, “And today you didn't do it. Today you came here instead, isn't that a win?”

“Is it?”

“It is.” He kissed the tip of your nose “And we’ll keep on winning from here on out.”

series masterlist | tbz masterlist

[lotstradamus]

i'm loving all your vampire posting lottie! if you're ever so compelled i'd love to hear what you make of the books vs the show and if there are any book things you'd especially like to see done on the show! (also, bookwise, are you a lestat girl or an armand girl or a louis/marius/david/akasha/claudia girl or or or)

as someone who tried to read Interview with the Vampire thrice (THRICE!!!) pre-AMC show revival and simply could not get through it (it is melancholy), I cannot BELIEVE how down bad I am for these books right now. I keep seeing bad reviews on goodreads and girding my loins for each new book expecting the quality to nosedive, but 1 star bitch WHERE? WHERE??? I AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY GODDAMN LIFE

in terms of books vs show, honestly after a point the books are kind of Unadaptable unless they radically change the main cast, vibe and format of the show every single season, and the changes they made to IWTV were good to the point of sending me fucking insane so they can just keep on doing whatever their little hearts desire with the source material imo!!! howmever I DO have some suggestions for the upcoming seasons:

Lestat crying twice an ep (non-negotiable)

I would kind of love it if Lestat is the only character who tells the truth. the most reliablest narrator and normal girl to ever live. and yet every time he says something like "I killed a pack of wolves single-handedly" or "I woke Those Who Must Be Kept by playing violin" or "I snog my mother with tongue" Daniel is just sitting there like "............riiiight."

Gabrielle. Gabrielle Gabrielle Gabrielle. mainly I would like to smash cut to Gabrielle in the middle of really intense Lestat/everyone else scenes and she's just like peacefully sleeping in the ground... strolling through a distant jungle... sitting on a mountain looking at the stars in silence...

EXCEPT that one scene where she pulls up to Lestat's concert like she's in 2 Fast 2 Furious

it'll be interesting to see how they adapt Queen of the Damned because so little of it is actually from Lestat's pov, and all of it is amazing and cannot be cut out: [Stefon voice] the Twins, Jesse, specifically Jesse being haunted in Louis and Lestat's old New Orleans house, everyone hanging out/playing out terrible interpersonal dramas at the Sonoma compound, NIGHT ISLAND...!

I cannot stress this enough: GHOST CLAUDIA.

I want them to do Body Thief. fuck it, why not. must haves are Mojo, a random hunk with a PhD in Sam Reid's mannerisms playing Lestat for 6/8 episodes, Lestat nearly dying 25 times cos he pilots his human body like a drunk muppet, and, most importantly, Lestat BEGGING David Talbot for some old man pussy

oh and an entire episode set on a cruise ship

my favourite scene from the whole of Body Thief was Lestat turning David at the end against his will cos it was genuinely quite awful and frightening but also. um. you know. awooga

if they include Gretchen, then I would like the opposite of my Gabrielle request for everything post-Body Thief: whenever there's a peaceful, quiet scene it smash cuts to the wilds of South America where Gretchen is absolutely stark raving mad on the floor of a chapel with stigmata

I can't even begin to think about how they'd adapt Memnoch, but regardless I want them to keep the scene where Lestat drinks someone's period blood. thanks

also his cunty little lilac-tinted sunglasses that he will not fucking stop talking about

and finally, human Armand getting drunk and falling into the Grand Canal

bookwise, I am a Lestat girl the house down boots... I love his over-dramatic idiot crybaby ass!!!!! although the final page of Memnoch the Devil made me burst into tears and cry my whole face off until I confirmed that Lestat comes back as the narrator in future books soooo maybe like calls to like. self recognition through the other, etc. I do also get a shot of pure joy every time Armand shows up, especially in Lestat's pov. 'ah, there he was, the Botticelli angel, so beautiful. I fucking hated him. we kissed.' sis THEE dopamine.

currently suffering because I want to a) stop reading the series immediately so I can go back and reread The Vampire Lestat, and yet also b) never ever stop reading the series for love nor money. please help me budget this my family is dying

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Horcrux connection is double-edged

Alternate title: the fanfic trope of Voldemort seeing into Harry's mind the way Harry sees into his is canon

Alternate alternate title: more notes from my Deathly Hallows reread

So I reached my favorite scene in the books when it comes to analyzing Voldemort and his personality — the moment in Godric's Hollow that Harry sees the night his parents died from Voldy's eyes. But, here I specifically wanna mention this part from immediately after Harry sees his parents murder:

“No,” he moaned. The snake rustled on the filthy, cluttered floor, and he had killed the boy, and yet he was the boy. . . “No. . . ”

(DH, 345)

The part I highlighted shows Harry seeing into Voldemort’s mind in the same time Voldemort is seeing into his like some crazy loop until (probably) Voldemort breaks it.

This is a moment is essentially Harry seeing Voldemort's memory of his own death, while Voldemort is witnessing his own memory and also his memory through Harry and also the actual room they are in, seen from both of them, at the same time, in Voldemort's mind that Harry is seeing into. This feedback loop could probably get crazy if Voldy let it.

So, Voldemort can canonically see into Harry's thoughts on occasion, at least when he isn't blocking it. Now I have to wonder what sort of things did he see? How didn't he know where Harry was throughout book 7? We know Harry wasn't using Occlumency...

(Maybe he chose not to go into Harry's mind, maybe, he was there, saw that Harry was camping in the woods, starving and being so boring that he didn't bother checking up on him because he had better things to do...)

But seriously, I think Voldemort could know where Harry was if he really wanted to track him down. Sure, they warded their encampment, but, I don't believe for a second Voldemort couldn't break through their wards if he really wanted to (well, maybe not Harry's, but, that's a maybe). So, I think Voldemort wasn't really putting all his effort into locating Harry before he had the Elder Wand so he could kill him like he wanted to. Sure, if Harry appeared where he posted Nagini to wait for him, yeah, he'd go to kill him, but he won't pursue actively before he knows for sure he could deal the killing blow and amend his one failure, the one moment he became nothing, in his own words:

And then he broke; He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away. . . far away. . .

(DH, 345)

Another quite from this section I'd like to dwell on that has nothing to do with the above is this one:

She had no wand either. . . . How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments. . . .

(DH, 344)

I think Voldy here is telling us exactly what he thinks about friendship. Yes, he calls his followers "friends," but friends to him are something very different than they are to most people. They are not to be trusted, not to be counted upon. They are meant for company and obedience to him. Damn. Tom really needs to learn the power of friendship.

[lollytea]

Okay okay okay so my thoughts are a little jumbled right now so I'm not very coherent but I need to blabber about this one element of huntlow in For the Future that's got me going off the rails. It's the way in which they both take initiative in their interactions with each other, specifically how it differs with both Willow and Hunter.

There's a bit of a vibe in a lot of huntlow content that puts emphasis on Willow's confidence and Hunter's shyness, so she's the one who talks, who flirts, who acts, who gets the ball rolling. Meanwhile, Hunter clearly reciprocates and enjoys her attention but allows her to take the lead, rather than initiate anything himself. And this interpretation is perfectly fine. It's cute!! And Thanks to Them kinda gave us the impression that it wouldn't be that unlikely.

But the scenes involving them in For the Future were SO good. As an interesting subversion of the point above, it's actually Willow who's become the more uncertain one in their dynamic. As a contrast to how she comforts Gus when he tears up, Willow is rather hands-off when it comes to Hunter. It's likely because she understands that what he needs right now is space to process his grief, but in addition to that, she might be at a complete loss on how to help him. Because what could she possibly say? Willow can promise Gus that she'll find his Dad, she can assure Camila that things with Luz will be alright, but she can't bring Flapjack back. And even at this point in the episode, this may have been adding to her steadily escalating feelings of stress and helplessness. ("I can't help my friends...")

Willow feels like she keeps fucking up when it comes to Hunter. When she allowed herself that brief moment of childish indulgence by being silly with the plants, which resulted in Hunter snapping at her? Oh the way her smile dropped and she looked utterly devastated. She must have felt so guilty, so ashamed, so frustrated with herself for being so stupid and goofing off when her friend was severely hurting. And it's not like he was wrong for saying they didn't have time for this. But in typical Willow fashion, she shoved those feelings down and put on a smile for Gus.

There's no implication of it but I wonder if she also felt like an idiot for letting her emotions get the better of her when she saw that puppet of her Dad. She put herself in harm's way, forcing Hunter to charge after her and pull her to safety. Do you think she wonders if he was annoyed by that? Maybe that was eating away at her too. She's trying to be level-headed and reliable but it seems like she keeps slipping up. And Hunter is always there to witness it.

Of course, Willow didn't stop trying. Though she may have felt a bit rejected and disliked by him at the time, Willow still made the effort to look out for Hunter in any way that she could. She suggested they go outside and keep him company while he was pacing himself into the ground. And later on, she lit up with delight when she found something that she believed would comfort him.

And then she expressed, in her typical warm Willowy way, that they loved him unconditionally. She didn't have the perfect words to make everything okay. She was just being herself. Willow took a chance with this boy she didn't know how to help and simply said what she felt, hoping it would give him some semblance of solace.

But being herself wasn't good enough. At least not in Willow's eyes. She already had fragile confidence in regards to Hunter's current opinion of her but ohhhh the deafening silence that followed after she had bared her heart to him. The way she brought him to tears, leading her to believe she had rubbed salt in the wound. The way Luz had to gently intervene to make sure he was alright and Willow felt like sinking into the floor. How Hunter's quiet little "I....don't know..." speared her through. All of those things pushing her to her breaking point. She's made everything worse. Because that's what Half-a-Witch Willow does.

Hunter's perceived opinion of her is utterly deteriorating Willow's self confidence and it's the thing that results in her self loathing inflicted descent into thorny vines. She's in denial at first, still struggling to hold it together, still insisting that she can grasp hold of some facade. The pitchy and nervous tone of voice as Hunter appears on the scene and she desperately feigns nonchalance. She knows deep down that her magic is spiralling out of control but she cannot let him know. She cannot let him see her like this. And with this added anxiety of Hunter's presence, the vines only get worse.

Meanwhile, when it comes to Hunter, he is not idle by any means. He takes a proactive role in almost all of his significant moments with Willow.

Obviously, Hunter is a protector. He shields his friends from physical harm. He's especially paranoid about them getting hurt now after what happened to Flapjack because he can't lose them too. This paranoia, in addition to his overwhelming grief and recent trauma, has made Hunter high strung and irritable. Keeping his friends alive is his priority right now. Because of this, their emotional needs and how his snappish behavior is affecting them, is understandably the furthest thing from his mind.

But once he realizes that he's hurt Willow's feelings? Oh he looks completely shattered. The way Gus runs out the door to find her and Hunter murmurs "Wait..." before he rushes after both of them, calling out their names, begging for them to come back. There's none of the hesitation that Willow demonstrates with him, only loud desperation. What does he even intend to say to Willow? Who knows. Honestly, I don't think Hunter knows either. But it's not about that. It doesn't matter if Hunter has no idea what he's gonna say once he catches up with her. What matters is that he's running after her at all. He knows one thing and it's that he has to do something.

And that's what Hunter continues to do from that point. Something.

When he finds her tangled up in her own vines, mentally and emotionally unraveling, Gus hanging in distress above their heads, he's immediately asking her to explain, concerned and alarmed. When Willow's feigned cheerful demeanour shows its cracks and the vines start to ensnare Hunter, the last thing he does before he's fully bound is take a step towards the obviously overwhelmed and frightened Willow and try to reach out for her. Again, what was he planning to do? What was he gonna say? He probably had no idea. His actions were likely instinctive. But the fact that trying to provide some form of comfort to Willow was an instinctive response from him speaks volumes about their relationship. He's not going to stand around and do nothing while she's upset. Even if he's bad with words and emotions, he's always gonna try. She's worth trying for.

Cannot stress this enough but by the time her vines begin to consume her, Willow has probably convinced herself that Hunter's high regard for her has completely plummeted. Because why wouldn't it? This is, without a doubt, Willow at her most pathetic. But during this moment of complete wretchedness and self destruction, Hunter is the one who acts.

He bursts out of the vines and bundles her up in his arms. His hands press down on her shoulders and he frantically assures her that she's not to blame for any of this and she didn't ruin anything. He eases her anxieties by vocally expressing just how much he cares about her. He begs her not to be so mean to herself. And then, with desolate eyes and a soft gentle voice, he asks if she's been holding all this in the whole time.

He wants an answer. He wants her to talk to him. He wants her to tell him what's wrong so he can try to help. He wants to listen. And he's taking the initiative to get there.

And Willow's completely stunned face upon hearing all of this shows just how overgrown her insecurities had become, leading her to become entangled in the worst possible conclusion. She was now receieving affection and loving words from none other than the boy who she fully believed had lost patience with her for constantly messing everything up. The way the first tears pricked and her mouth wobbled when that soft gentle voice expressed concern for her, seconds before the dam inevitably burst. It was all a little too much for her I think.

Also can I talk about the little finger link?? I've been dying to talk about the little finger link!!!!

Everything about how that scene is executed is so sweet to me. Willow, though she's a lot more reassured over where she stands with Hunter, is still a little unsure on how to approach this. She doesn't hold his whole hand. No, that might be a bit much. For both Hunter and herself. Let's start smaller. Less nerve racking.

Of course, if she's still so hesitant, she doesn't have to touch him at all. But she wants to. She really wants to have physical contact with him in some capacity right now, even if it's as tentative as could be. In holding his hand, Willow would be making a rather bold statement. But in linking pinkies, it's more like she's asking a question. Is this okay?

She's clearly a bit unsure. Noticeably not looking at the touch, eyes locked on her feet before she speaks. But as unsure as it is, I think she's pretty brave for doing it at all.

What gets me is that what Hunter said left such an impact on her that she was compelled to thank him. She was grateful to be told that she didn't ruin everything. She had wanted to be told that she meant something to him. Even though she wasn't aware of it, she's realized that hearing those words took a huge weight off her chest. Willow could breathe again. She could see him a little clearer now. And she would like to tell him just how much those words meant to her. Just how much he meant to her.

This is the moment where Hunter silently answers Willow's question. He's choked up, he's nervous, he's overwhelmed, but in spite of all that, he still takes initiative.

In linking their pinkies, Willow is asking Is this okay?

And when Hunter deliberately presses the back of his hand against hers, he's answering her question. It's more than okay.

Anyway Hunter being proactive in almost all of the huntlow scenes, Willow being the more nervous one between them, neither getting to the point they've gotten to if they didn't each take the lead at different moments. It was all so good.

[linawritestwst]

𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚝𝚠𝚜𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚜 (𝚐𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

I'M FINALLY DONE. I'M FINALLY DONE WITH THESE YANDERE READER HEADCANONS.

okay, so, i should probably explain how these headcanons work and how i chose characters for them.

each character gets a yandere!reader with a specific personality trait and there will be different yandere types too. you can read more about yandere types online, i personally used information from the dere wiki.

about the title.. i agree that most twst characters can be called red flags (btw i mean it in an affectionate way.. with some characters. some of them are red flags in a derogatory way to me sdhdkjsdks) since almost all characters are based on disney villains, however, i decided to go with the ones i personally consider to be a little bit less sane than others <3 also i just used those characters who i wanted to see in a relationship with a yandere!reader, so don't come at me, okay sdhjsksksk i know that i should have included some other characters too, like now i'm thinking that i probably should have added cater, azul and a few other characters too but. i'm tired, okay. if people will be interested in seeing a part 2, sure, i might write one, but for now, just take this.

characters: riddle rosehearts (listen, i know that he's not as bad as other characters, but hey. yandere!reader x riddle makes me 💞💓💗💖💕) , jade leech, floyd leech, jamil viper, rook hunt, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge (again, he's probably not that bad, but it's the vibe, okay) rollo flamme.

warnings: possible ooc, general yandere themes, themes of obsession, mentions of manipulation, murder and death, implications of suicide. if you're not comfortable with yandere/horror content (i think it has some angst too?), i suggest you skip these. stay safe, love y'all.

also i'm sorry if this has typos or anything like that it's kinda late and i wrote this instead of doing my hw

(divider link)

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character: riddle rosehearts

yandere type: training type

personality trait: cheerful

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♡ you remember meeting riddle for the first time like it was yesterday. of course you would remember it well, you knew that he was the one right when you saw him. riddle wasn't like most nrc students. he was responsible, hardworking, he followed the rules instead of breaking them. he definitely was your type. he was so cute too! it's so easy to make him blush and sweat and stutter, his reactions are always so fun and entertaining!..

♡ but there's this one small thing that annoys you a little. why do all other students say that riddle needs to chill and that there's no point in following all those rules? can't they see how amazing and talented he is? of course you're more loyal than all those traitors, you would never go against your queen's orders. in fact, you actually think that riddle should be even more strict. you remember hearing about his unique magic for the first time and being so excited to see it, "off with your head" means that he can easily cut anyone's head off, right?.. oh, so he just stops them from using magic.. man, and here you hoped that you will finally see those rulebreakers' heads on the floor.

♡ most people find it weird how even though you're always so cheerful and you love to have fun, you still think that riddle is right and you continue to support him. well, maybe your idea of fun is simply watching your classmates cry because they forgot to study for today's test and now it's too late to do anything! <3 actually, you're a bit scared that someone will try to change riddle's mind and make him become more relaxed and forgiving of those who break the queen's rules. you can't allow that to happen! you must make sure that riddle stays the same.. actually, what if you tried to help him become even more perfect than he already is? riddle will never forget about anything if he has someone like you by his side. he will study even more because you think that he's not working hard enough. he will try harder to impress you because you're the only person in this school who actually gets him.

➽───────────────❥

character: jade leech

yandere type: obsession type

personality trait: shy

➽───────────────❥

♡ jade is one of the few people in this school who actually understands you. he never judges you, he never forces you to socialize, of course, he does say that it would be nice for you to talk to others more, but he doesn't think that you being an introvert is a bad thing. he doesn't think you're weird, he listens to you when you talk to him about your interests and his face expression never changes. he always has a smile on his face no matter what you say, he never looks disappointed or confused or scared, he genuinely likes spending time with you and you know it.. or maybe that's just what he wants you to think.

♡ but even if he actually doesn't have feelings for you, you definitely are in love with him. anyone would fall in love with him if they were treated the same way. for someone as shy and quiet as you, meeting jade was the best thing that could ever happen to you. if it wasn't for him, you would be so.. lonely. actually, you just stopped caring about making more friends after meeting jade. jade is the only friend you need. you don't have to talk to anyone else. they will just laugh at you or call you weird and you're too tired from dealing with people like that. you think about jade so often, his own brother finds it concerning. you couldn't care less about what floyd thinks though.

♡ .. but what if jade actually finds it creepy too? no, no, that thought scares you so much, you can't stand it! jade loves you, right? he wants to be more than friends, right?.. but what if he doesn't even think of you as a friend? what if he just pretends to be nice, what if it's just him being polite? it's so scary to think about and you can feel your heart breaking, but.. what if it's true? you have to make sure that he loves you back. you have to talk to him about it. yes, you're shy, yes, you're quiet, yes, it's hard for you to talk about your feelings, but you have to know the truth. and if it turns out that jade is actually a huge liar.. haha.. at least one of you will die, that's for sure.

➽───────────────❥

character: floyd leech

yandere type: self-sacrifice

personality trait: cold

➽───────────────❥

♡ most people find it hard to talk to you. you're known for almost never showing your emotions and always looking like you want to kill someone even though you don't even look angry or anything like that, there's just something about your eyes and the way you look at people. so yeah, most people just ignore you or even run away every time they see you. it's not like you're mad at them, really. you don't mind spending most of your time alone. but it still.. hurts a little. haha.. so you actually can feel emotions after all. so when floyd suddenly started talking to you more and even gave you a cute nickname, you were surprised (though it was hard to tell from your face expression) but also.. maybe even happy?

♡ floyd doesn't exactly have the best reputation either because of his.. uh.. interesting personality, so of course you two would get along so easily. honestly, you even start to feel like you're.. it's so weird to hear yourself say it, but it feels like you're actually in love with floyd. he's the only one who can make you feel something and react to things, he's the only one who can make you smile or cry or feel fear. and he gets excited when he finally sees your face expression change too. however.. his mood swings do scare you a little bit. sometimes, when you're not showing any emotions and his tricks aren't working, he suddenly says that he's bored and just leaves you. huh.. a-are you not interesting enough for him?

♡ you knew it. of course, you knew that someone like you isn't good enough for floyd. he's always so full of energy, he needs someone who can keep up with him and you're not like that at all. but you need his attention. you just want him to look at you one more time. you really hope he will stop ignoring you if you just.. start acting differently. what if you start acting more like riddle who he loves to annoy so much? what if you start acting more like kalim who's just as energetic as floyd? you don't care what other people think of you, you just want floyd back. you're so scared of disappointing him again, you'll be anything he wants you to be.

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character: jamil viper

yandere type: protective

personality trait: soft

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♡ you admire jamil so much. you have no idea how someone can be as perfect as him. he's so patient, so hardworking, so good at everything he does.. and he also has to deal with kalim all the time. you talk about jamil so often that some people start to think that you have a crush on him. whenever they make jokes about that, you blush and deny everything, but you know very well that you really are deeply in love with him. you really want him to love you just as much as you love him. but how are you gonna make him notice you? well.. maybe you should help him in some way?

♡ but how exactly can you help him? you doubt that you can help him with cooking or his vice dorm leader duties.. ah, it must be hard for him to be kalim's vice dorm leader. maybe you can tell kalim to be a little bit more responsible? you know, so that jamil won't be overworked. you try to have a conversation with kalim about it and he promises that he won't push jamil too hard and he will try to be a better dorm leader. you apologize in case you have said something rude, but he claims that it's fine and that you're actually right. he really should pay more attention to jamil's well-being. he thanks you for caring about jamil so much and you say that it's not a big deal while trying to hide just how red your face currently is.

♡ .. kalim is a good guy. he really is. but he's not good at keeping his promises. no matter how much he tries, he still forgets things and jamil has to do everything for him. and even if kalim tries to do something without anyone's help, jamil still ends up doing it for him because he doesn't trust kalim and he doesn't want him to accidentally ruin anything. it hurts seeing jamil work so much. despite your best efforts, his situation never changes. well.. you didn't want to do this, you really didn't. but if there's no other way to solve this problem, maybe you should.. you know.. remove the person who's making all of this happen? ah, and if any other scarabia students get in your way or try to make jamil's life miserable as well.. it's okay, you can take care of them too. it's all for his sake.

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character: rook hunt

yandere type: monopoly + removal

personality trait: popular i know it's not really a personality trait but still

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♡ you're loved and admired by many nrc students. they have many different reasons to love you: your beauty, your intelligence, your sense of humor, etc. and you enjoy being this popular, even though on the outside you look like a gentle and even kinda shy person. however, even though you have such a good reputation and you're loved by so many people.. you're still not satisfied with it. why? well, the thing is.. no matter how many nrc students love you and say you're the most beautiful person in twisted wonderland, you just want one specific person to call you that. but he's never gonna do it. because he thinks all people are beautiful in their own way and he never stops complimenting them.

♡ rook is an interesting person. you have to agree that he can be a little.. weird sometimes, but for some reason, his behavior and personality intrigues you and you can't help but find him fascinating. and of course, he's one of your many admirers. he's not immune to your charms and he certainly finds you beautiful. however.. it's not like he thinks you're the most beautiful person here. he changes his mind like every few seconds, you swear, if you could put him in the same room with you, vil and neige, he would probably explode or something. but you want more than that. you want him to call you the most beautiful person he has ever seen. i guess you could say you want him to call you the fairest one of all, haha.

♡ so how can you make this happen? how can you make rook look only at you and nobody else? this is gonna be hard. you can't exactly get rid of just one person or even two people, because rook finds everybody beautiful. but uh.. maybe you can just remove the strongest rivals first? and if that's not gonna make him pay more attention to you, you'll have to get rid of more people then. and more. and more. you will make sure rook has his eyes only on you in the end because there will be nobody else to look at. too bad, you don't know that rook thinks that when someone is covered in blood and their heart had already stopped beating, that person is still beautiful in some scary, twisted way. so even if you do kill all those people, his thoughts will still be about them.

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character: malleus draconia

yandere type: loneliness induction

personality trait: manipulative yes i know most of them are manipulative shhh

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♡ oh, poor malleus. everyone finds him so scary because of his intimidating aura, it's impossible for him to make friends or even simply talk to people without making them want to run away. he's so strong, so powerful, of course people would be scared of him. well.. it's their fault for being so weak then. no, it's just not possible for them to become stronger. even if they do, they will never be as amazing as malleus. you don't think that malleus not having any friends is a bad thing, really. those other students don't deserve to even breathe the same air as him. he's just better than them and that's why they don't want to talk to him. they can't accept the fact that they're weaker than him.

♡ it's okay though. you're more than happy to be malleus's only friend. yes, he doesn't need anyone else but you. you've told him that many, many times before. at first he wasn't sure about it, but now.. he doesn't even talk to other diasomnia students that much, including lilia, silver and sebek. actually, sebek acting like his usual self annoys him now. he'd much rather hear you saying that you're ready to do anything for him. sure, you will say that. it's not like you actually mean it though. you agree that malleus is better than others and that you're the only one who's allowed to talk to him, but you do have your limits. it's not like you're okay with dying for him. you won't let him die for you either.

♡ you just enjoy him being obsessed with you a little too much to die for him. maybe malleus could make more friends if it wasn't for you. maybe he could find someone to be in a more healthy relationship with if it wasn't for you. but the fact that a strong mage and a prince of briar valley depends on you so much that he refuses to talk to anyone else makes you too happy to let him form bonds with other students. you repeatedly tell him that other people don't deserve him and that he doesn't have to spend time with them if he doesn't want to. it's okay if you're his only friend. it's okay if you're the only person who cares about him. you will give him more love than all those people combined.

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character: lilia vanrouge

yandere type: dependent

personality trait: innocent

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♡ you know that most students find lilia a bit strange, but you think that he's one of the most reliable and trustworthy people here. sure, he loves to pull pranks and mess with people, but you actually do think he's funny. you always laugh at his jokes and even though you get scared after he suddenly appears right in front of you out of nowhere or you see him hanging upside down, you still enjoy his company. in fact, you enjoy it so much that it's a bit.. hard to imagine your life without him. it'd be so lonely without lilia by your side.

♡ lilia is always there when you need someone's help and he's always there to support you and cheer you up when you're feeling down. no matter what other people say you know that this man is one of the kindest people you've ever met. he often says that you should be more careful since it's not like he can always come to your aid, even though he wants to be your hero so much. from his tone it sounds like he's joking, but he actually really is worried about you. you often look like a lost child who has no idea what to do and who will trust anyone no matter how suspicious they look. sometimes he jokes about you acting like this to get more attention from him. little does he know that this actually might be true.

♡ you need lilia to watch over you. you need lilia to come to you when you're sad and lonely and tell you that everything is going to be okay. most of the time you're not pretending, you really are this pure and innocent, you still have no idea how you can act like this while attending a school full of villains. but sometimes you do pretend to be a little bit more naive than you really are. you just like it when lilia acts protective and you're so, so afraid of him leaving you one day because he thinks that you're gonna be fine on your own. if he thinks so, then he's wrong. you will do anything to make lilia stay. you will do anything to make him believe that it's impossible for you to do anything without his help. haha.. maybe you should start getting into more dangerous situations on purpose. maybe if he sees how you almost die, he will understand that he just can't leave you. he's not allowed to leave you.

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character: rollo flamme

yandere type: worship

personality trait: flirty

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♡ it's hard for other people to say if you actually do have a crush on rollo or you're just messing around. you don't act like this with others though, so maybe you actually do have feelings for him?.. but again, it's hard for both rollo and those people to take you seriously. also, other nbc students just don't understand how a person like you ended up falling for someone like rollo. like.. he's probably not your type, right? you're so outgoing, talkative and energetic, you're not like him at all. actually, shouldn't you find him annoying? you two are just so different.. well, in your case, opposites attract.

♡ you don't hate rollo. actually, it's hard for you to say that you have a crush on him either. what you feel for him is much stronger. it's like.. he's so different from all the other people. he's basically flawless to you. even when you find out how much he hates magic, you still agree with him. if you are a magic user, you will gladly die for him to show just how much you respect him and how far you're willing to go for him. if you are not a magic user, you will be more than okay with killing as many magic users as he wants you to kill. hm? he's a magic user as well? ah.. well, he's just different from them. he's just better. also, he would never use magic in the same way as all those other mages.

♡ it takes a lot of time for other people and even rollo himself to realize just how deep your obsession with him is. you always play it off as a joke and if rollo asks about it, you smile and wink at him while saying that you just love him so much, your feelings for him often make you say the weirdest things. it's so fun to see him react to your words too. haha, if he can't handle you simply saying that he's cute, then maybe you really should keep your obsession with him a secret for now.