#another thing that stands out is that you grow very dulled to the horrors

[aeondeug]

Games that encourage loop based gameplay via death are interesting. Ones like Nethack or Sil I feel very little about. I'm mostly there for mechanical purposes. But the ones I find most interesting are those that end up saying something thematically and narratively via the loop. Dark Souls is probably one of the most talked about and well known cases now. Wherein the only real failure state your stubborn undead ass has is to give up. And giving up is "hollowing". It gives a sort of somberness to runs you never finished and serves as ample encouragement to just keep going. Because you can't give up. You can't be lost to madness and memory loss. You need to keep going. Darkest Dungeon is another one that comes up, though not in the form of you, the player, dying but in the form of your hired work dying. Initially you might be attached to them. Worried for them. Over time you grow less attached. Your fondness for individual characters is often less about any genuine care for them and more a care for what they bring you financially. And what they will cost you financially. By the end of my time with the game I was actively resentful of them at times. Oh no you decided to have a panic attack and fucking died boo hoo. Now I have to train and fund a replacement. Fear and Hunger's loop I have been thinking about. Especially with the implications of godhood and delving too deep. The first time I saved the Girl from her cage I did so because I felt genuinely bad for her. I was doing a good thing, a kind thing. Something selfless. She's a cute little girl am I supposed to just leave her there? But the next few times I got the Girl I was more concerned about her mechanical worth to me. At worst she can take hits for me. At best she will be a powerful mage who will save me from death dealing blows. The Girl is being let out less because I am feeling bad for her and more because she is useful to me in my quest to go deeper. And then there's her other forms of worth. I could just want to get an ending that doesn't require her and if I want that or am willing to alter my goal to that I can use her as a form of currency. The Girl isn't just a useful tool in battle but something I can trade for other things I deem more useful to me. But she's still a little girl. She gets happy when I give her the doll and the dagger. The emotional reality of her being a little girl is dulled though because I have knowledge and I need more. Finally there is her worth in the endings. If I want to see those I need the Girl. Not to fight for me or to be traded away, but to transform her and reveal the full extent of the Dungeon's mysteries. And it's horrifying. But are you just not going to do that? After everything you've done to get that far? After all you've heard about becoming a real god? And given the nature of how time works in Ma'habre and the loop that the New Gods are trapped in that feels rather purposeful. I've ended up complacent with throwing myself and other people into a meat grinder just to learn a tad bit more. This also makes me curious about how the sequel handles it given its Majora's Mask inspiration.

[ladykailitha]

Crossroads

So I started writing this last night thinking it would be a short little drabble. At over 2k words, it is NOT a drabble. It is a full on fic at this point.

Enjoy!

*

Steve was at a crossroads.

To his right was his mother, calling him sweetly to come back inside so they can talk. Work something out. To stay with her and his father.

On his left was Eddie. Dear sweet Eddie calling out from him to run away with him. To get in his van and chase the sun for as long as they could and maybe find a new place to rest their heads. For a moment or to throw roots.

He could see the two paths before him as easily as he could see them standing before him.

If he went with his mom, they would convince him to give up his friends, Eddie. Well, they'd let him keep the Wheeler siblings and Dustin. But everyone else would have to go. Byers, Max, and Eddie because they were poor. The Sinclairs because they were black. He doubted they would keep him from El, considering who her adopted father was, but it would be a near thing. Robin would have to go. She would be a little too queer for their liking.

He would be forced to work for his dad where the employees would hate him and the managers would resent him. He would marry some dull woman picked out by them and have as many kids as possible.

Pretty much the life he thought he would have with Nancy their junior year of high school. He would be comfortable, well taken care of and absolutely fucking miserable. For the rest of his life.

If he went with Eddie...there would no certainty at all. It would very likely be hard. They wouldn't have a lot of money (the government hush money could only take them so far after all). It would a life on the road as Eddie and his band traveled the country looking for fame and fortune. It would be rough. Five boys in cramped quarters.

It's possible the band wouldn't even survive two days let alone two years.

But Eddie would love him. He would be loved. Not just by Eddie, but Robin and the kids. Nancy and Jonathan and even funky little Argyle. As their friends spread out over the country, Steve and Eddie would visit them all. And maybe someday they'd find their place. Throw down roots maybe even grow a family of their own.

Steve took a deep breath and started walking.

*

Eddie wanted to call out to Steve, beg him to stay. To give him a chance to be something. Together.

He watched in horror and disappointment as Steve took one step and then another toward his mother. He couldn’t look away as Steve reached her.

Steve’s name caught in his throat. Would she at least let them say their goodbyes or would the last memory Eddie had of the love of his life would be his back as he walked back into the house with his mother?

Steve kissed his mother’s forehead and then suddenly he was running.

Eddie barely had time to open his arms before Steve had filled them.

Eddie opened his mouth to ask, but Steve kissed him fiercely. “Come on Eds, let’s go.”

He pulled back and looked Steve in the eye. “You coming with me, darlin’?”

Steve nodded. He looked back at his mother and then at Eddie. “It’s for the best, I think.”

Eddie knew he was right. Knew it was the best thing for everyone. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“All right, baby,” he finally said after a moment of taking it all in. “Let’s go find that horizon, shall we?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah!” He swung into the passenger side of Eddie’s van and Eddie hopped into the driver’s side.

They had sold the BMW for extra cash as the van would be better suited for traveling cross-country in. It had been put in his name a long time ago and it was the last connection to his parents.

Steve kissed Eddie on the cheek.

Eddie laughed. “What was that for, sweetheart?”

“For luck!”

“You my princess, baby?”

Steve laughed too. “The van is in much better shape then Millennium Falcon, sunshine.”

Eddie cackled as he pulled out of the driveway. He was going to start a life with the boy of his dreams. Life really couldn’t be sweeter.

*

When Maureen Harrington saw her Steven start walking towards her, she knew.

She had lost him. Maybe she never had him. He was determined in a way she had never seen before. He was resolved.

“I have to go,” he whispered as though the answer was pulled from him.

She nodded, tears forming on her lashes. “I understand.”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a ring. She looked at it and her heart sank.

“No, Steven,” she murmured. “Your grandfather gave that to you.”

He pressed it into her hand. “I know, but think of it as my promise to come back. To see you. That I’m not giving up on you, I’m just choosing my own path instead of the one you and Dad wanted for me.”

Maureen clasped it tight her perfectly manicured hands to her chest. “I love you.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead goodbye.

She watched misty-eyed as he ran to his boyfriend, tears streaming down her face. She stood in that driveway until they were both out of sight.

She wiped her eyes and went back inside.

“Where’s that wastrel son of yours?” Clint growled.

“Saying goodbye,” she lied.

“Good.”

He turned on his heel and then said over his shoulder. “I want him in office the second he comes in, you hear me.”

She nodded knowing that he would be angry with her later. But she also knew that he would blame Edward Munson and not her for Steven not staying.

Maureen paused. She did feel a little guilty about that, but it was unavoidable. She slipped into the kitchen. The one room Clint would never enter willingly and sat down next to the phone.

She had work to do.

*

Wayne had just settled in for the night when his phone rang. He heaved a sigh and got wearily to his feet. The government had paid a hefty sum for the witch hunt of his nephew and an even tidier sum for keeping quiet about the monsters, which meant he wouldn’t have to work another day in his life.

But he still got a nice little job down at the local plant nursery watering the plants a couple times a week for something to do. He had just gotten home from that when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Hello,” greeted the warm female voice. “I’m looking for an Edward Munson, is he there?”

Wayne sighed again. “May I ask what this is regarding?”

“Of course,” she said brightly. “He applied with us a couple weeks ago and I was just getting back with him.”

“Ya just missed him,” he said. “He went on a vacation and won’t be back for a few days.” Weeks, really. But he didn’t want to scare her off in case she actually had a job for him.

“That is unfortunate,” she said softly. “I will hold on to his application of course, but I can’t guarantee the job will be there when he returns.”

Wayne sighed a third time. He knew it had been too much to ask, but it had been worth a shot.

“I appreciate you thinking of him,” he said.

“Of course, you have a good day.”

He cursed his nephew’s luck again. Just as things were starting to look up for him, he missed getting a job by mere hours.

That was the last he thought about that conversation for a few days until a large manila envelope came for Eddie and Steve care of him. The damn thing even read: Steven Harrington and Edward Munson, C/O Wayne Munson.

The boys had gave him permission to open anything that might come from the government or the kids in case it was urgent, but he wasn’t sure about this.

Thankfully he was save from something like indecision when his phone rang.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie cried cheerfully. “You’ll never guess where we are!”

“Disneyland?” Wayne guessed with a huff of laughter.

“Aww...you guessed,” Eddie pouted.

“A letter came for you and Steve,” he said. “You two want me to open it?”

He heard whispering and then Eddie came back. “Steve says go ahead.”

Wayne opened the envelope and as he read the contents, he put his hand over his mouth as tears streamed down his face. It took a couple of tries, clearing his throat before he said, “It’s from your mom, Steve.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a bunch of paperwork transferring your joint bank account with your parents to one with Eddie,” Wayne explained. “As well as your information about your trust fund.”

“Oh.” Steve’s voice is breathless. “God. I assumed that they nixed that when I failed to get into college. That’s what it was supposed to be for after all.”

“Not according to the documents your mom sent over,” Wayne explained. “It was supposed to be given to you under one of three circumstances. Getting into college–”

Steve scoffed. “There went that one.”

“Getting married,” Wayne said.

Again Steve scoffed. “Would explain why they weren’t a big hurry for me to get hitched.”

Eddie and Wayne both chuckled in stereo causing Steve to laugh at how similar they were.

“Or when you turned twenty-one,” Wayne finished. “Which means next year the money is yours.”

“How much money could there be?” Eddie asked with a snort.

“By the time Steve gets it, at current interest rates?” Wayne said. “A little over a million dollars.”

“What?” Steve asked, his heart in his throat.

“Yup,” Wayne said. “And according to the bank statements of the new account she set up for the two of you, it has about three hundred thousand in it.”

“How?” Steve stammered.

“Well, according the statements of your previous account that she also sent along,” Wayne said ruffling through the pages, “there were deposits of five hundred dollars a month since you were born. As well as your checks from your jobs; the community center, the mall and of course Family Video.”

“Okay,” Steve muttered darkly, “but that only makes up for about a third of what you said was in there.”

“Apparently your first payment for stopping the apocalypse was put into this account when you were under the age of eighteen.”

Eddie swore. “And they didn’t fucking tell you?”

Wayne hummed. “Looks like there were some large withdrawals at first, but they were put back in only a couple months later.”

Steve scoffed. “Probably my dad and my mom making him put it back.”

“I agree,” Wayne said. “That makes the most sense. So if we add what you got from the government for your subsequent apocalypses, you boys will never have to work a day in your lives unless you wanted to.”

“Holy shit, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It’s all unbelievable.”

Wayne nodded even though they couldn’t see him. “She also lists a couple of good financial advisors. I’ll give them a call and find one that fits, but you boys are free to do whatever the hell you want now.”

“Thank you, Wayne,” Steve murmured.

“Thank your mom, Stevie,” he mumbled. “She’s the one that did everything.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “I will. I promise.”

*

Steve slid down in the cramped little phone booth in shock. They had only meant to tell Wayne that they had made it California and that they were having a good time. He sure as hell wasn’t expect to have his life completely upended.

It was a good kind of unending. There was no doubt about that. But when he made the choice to be with Eddie, he made in spite of money not for money.

Eddie held out his hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go make some noise in the happiest place on earth.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah. I can’t wait!”

As they walked through park slurping on sodas and laughing, Steve knew he had made the right choice.

Because really, falling in love with Eddie was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

*

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @redfreckledwolf @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @itsall-taken @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @vecnuthy

[musings-from-mars]

(i considered just putting this in the tags but it's going to get too long so here's this)

I have had dreams that play out like this exact kind of horror game. Like so vivid that I still remember things about them months/years later (as you can see herein lol). And the premise lends itself to a survival horror game perfectly. Like seeing this post immediately made these dreams rush back to the forefront of my memory and I just have to share.

The dreams always start with me being in a normal public place, and I go off to find a restroom. I walk in, it looks totally ordinary, but it just keeps going, going and going. Further and further and then things begin to change and branch off. There are different rooms branching out, each with different design variables, sizes, arrangements. One room resembles a college lecture hall with tiered "seating," the seating being toilets of course, bright fluorescent lighting and white drywall and plastic all over, but no stalls/dividers. Another room resembles the concourse of a shopping mall or movie theater, complete with fountains and fake plants, dark carpet and dark, purplish lighting, windows in the roof to show it's night. And of course this massive space is empty except for me. And the walls are lined with urinals, literally hundreds of them.

From this "concourse" there are innumerable directions to go, and no telling where each leads. I just need to pee and I could just choose a commode and be done with it, but some sort of instinctual urge tells me I have to keep venturing further, like if I were to stop to pee, someone might walk in, something might appear. And no one wants to be walked in on in the bathroom, right?

And so I keep going and find more bizarre spaces, like something resembling the locker rooms at a public pool, but of course no stalls, no cover, no privacy, plain white tile everywhere. Maybe there's a hot tub, or several hot tubs, or just an actual swimming pool. All devoid of life and perfectly sterile, but the puddles of standing water on the tile floors still disgust me in a way I can't qualify. Everything is obviously so clean, so what's gross about it? It's probably to do with the feeling that this standing water really shouldn't be there. How would water have splashed from the pools and tubs, unless I wasn't the first one here...?

And it just keeps going. I still need to pee but I still can't bring myself to stop. Besides, once I do pee, what then? Do I just leave? Can I leave??

At some point I figure out I am dreaming, and usually when I have a lucid dream like that I just start dicking around until I wake up. But with these kinds of dreams, I will realize I'm dreaming, but that doesn't help. Yeah, it's not real of course. But this unease and dull desperation has felt very real until this point. There's something causing it. Even if it's nothing, even if it's something my brain concocted, it's still worthy of caution. I still can't just stop, if I keep walking and exploring I'll stay safe and alone. That way nothing can walk in on me.

It's that fear that I think most people have had at one point, and many still do, one that probably arose in childhood when the embarrassment of being walked in on while using the restroom was so immense and without comparison. Even as we grow up, old fears like that still linger, hence the prevalence of nightmares to do with school among people who have long since left school.

It’s just that intense, formative anxiety stretched to an inescapable scale. There’s the fear of being lost, and the fear of being found, with a real-life analog that’s distinct in its own right compared to general Backrooms/liminal space stuff

You know, I'm genuinely surprised that – as far as I'm aware – nobody has made a serious effort at combining this Backrooms shit with the survival-horror genre's strange preoccupation with public restrooms yet. Just a photorealistic walking simulator set entirely within the confines of an endless, deserted, impossibly complicated public restroom. Bonus points if it gets a little bit horny with it, but only a little – make folks wonder whether this is a very obtuse fetish thing, or whether they're just reading too much into it.

[cryptidclaw]

LEAFPOOL!!!!! MY BLORBO!!! 

this is a redesign, but I barely changed anything, I just redrew her with my improved style, made her proportions even chonkier, and made her stripes more simple!  I LOBE HER SO MUCH U DONT UNDERSTAND

here is her prev. design!

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Leafpool from Warrior Cats. She is standing with her left side facing us, and she has a happy but unsure expression on her face, she is smiling and blushing. She is a short, round, fat, torbie molly. She is mostly brown with dull orange on the right half of her face, on a round patch on her back, a spot on her leg and from the middle of her tail to the end. She has white from between her eyebrows, around her eyes, and down her cheeks, and she has freckles across her cheeks as well. Her eyes are orange, and her nose and inner ears are light pink. She has a yellow flower and two green leaves behind her ears as well as two leaves at her tail base and pale blue purple and pink flowers on her flank./End ID]

Info about her in my au! I warn you, it is very long v

First off the biggest change is that she is mates with Mothwing instead of Crowfeather! I am actually changing up Crow a lot as well! I like the idea of Leaf and Crow actually being friends instead, which will make even more since when I get into Crowfeather in my au! 

Leafpool starts out like she is in the books, a perfect devout follower of Starclan, but she has too big of a heart and falls for Mothwing. Mothwing has never understood the rules about Med cats since she doesn't even believe in Starclan at this point, and eventually she confesses her feelings to Leafpool, and Leaf takes a few days, thinking maybe she would get a sign from Starclan, and she does! Starclan tells her to follow her heart, sooo tells Moth that she returns her feelings! 

Like in canon she eventually gets pregnant (Mothwing is trans), but one thing that's different here is that Moth, Leaf, Squirrel and Bramble are close, Moth and Bramble bond as siblings, especially after what happened with Hawk. So when Leaf gets pregnant and she and Moth plan to run away together they tell Bramble and Squirrel. They don't want to see them go but they understand why they are leaving, and they promise to keep quiet. But when Leaf and Moth get the message from Midnight, they come back, and Cinderpelt dies, Squirrel and Bramble promise to help them! Like in canon Starclan tells Squirrel to raise the 3, and this time Bramble knows about it! 

Watching her kits grow up being raised by someone else is painful for Leafpool, as well as Moth since she cant even see her kits as often, being in another clan. And over time Leaf starts to get more and more doubtful of Starclan, Moth at this point knows they are real, but she thinks of them just as dead cats “why should we listen to them?” and Leaf starts to get where Moth is coming from... They had told her to follow her heart hadn't they? and was that really meant to help her? with her and her mate now suffering without their kits? had this been fated? 

She watches her daughter become filled with anger and hatred for Leaf and Moth, she watches her loose herself to this hatred, she watches her call them out in front of the clans.

But, when this happens several cats come to Leafpool's defense! While Leaf is sitting in horror of what has happened, Mothwing stands next to her mate, claws unsheathed ready to fight anyone who would dare harm her, and soon after Squirrelflight snaps out of her surprise and does the same, followed by Brambleflower. Crowfeather joins them, Tawnyclaw is next, and several more of these cat’s friends and allies do as well. 

The clans are not what they used to be, the borders are weak, warriors have many friends within other clans, some even have mates, kits even! Many of the laws of the warrior code have been weakened or forgotten for the sake of a new more peaceful life in the new territories. Many cats wonder, why should that not be the same for Medicine cat law? Mothwing climbs up next to the leaders and asks why a cat should have had to hide her kits away at all? Why when Starclan themselves had told her to take a mate, had allowed her to have kits? 

Though Hollyleaf has run away with Lion and Jay following after her, the meeting continues, and many things change about the medicine code that night.

(more happens after this obv. but I haven't planned it all out yet hehe)

After everything that happens to her Leafpool has much the same snarky attitude about Starclan as Jaywing does. While she still will take their prophecies and commune with them, she takes it all with a grain of salt. She is known for being kind to everyone and always trying to see the good in people, but Starclan? no they are going to have to prove they're worth listening to.

[misselko]

Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

This one took me some days to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to give me some advice and ideas for my next fic! Your warm comments will be cherished very much 💕 Thankies!!

 

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, smut

Words: 3316

 

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation  in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

 

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

 

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

 

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

 

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

 

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

 

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

 

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

 

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

 

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

 

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

 

“(Y/N)!!!”

 

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

 

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

 

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

 

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

 

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

 

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

 

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

 

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

 

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

 

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair. 

 

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

 

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

 

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

 

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

 

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

 

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

 

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

 

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

 

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

 

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a  blanket  and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

 

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

 

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

 

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

 

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

 

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted  on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered.  The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

 

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

 

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

 

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame. 

 

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

 

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor king desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

 

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow,  somehow  managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

 

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

[yandere-sins]

Maybe some inspiration for a yandere kitsune atsumu fic?? I just imagine him coming across you hiking in the woods one day and he’s like “you’re cute I’m gonna keep you!” He thinks it’s cute to have a pet, something that is his alone that no one else can have

Oooh, thank you! I love the idea! Enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

This wasn’t how he usually did things, but what about him was ever normal?

If Atsumu wanted to mingle with humans, he’d go down to the town at the foot of the mountain. Roam its street, flirt a little with the giggling girls he met, or play with the children. In the hundreds of years he lived, he sometimes needed the change from his otherwise dull life. Atsumu was way too strong to brawl with the other creatures, and his own kind was too proud and traditional to be around of. So all he did was eat and sleep, occasionally do some trickery or run from the rain. It wasn’t a very fulfilling life to him; he didn’t even have a mate to share his days with, so what really was there left for the bored kitsune?

But you, you weren’t a usual thing either.

Few to none ever got lost in the forest that coated the mountain he lived on. There were too many rumors about strange creatures inhabiting these lands, of people going missing and turning up talking nonsense about what they experienced here. And even then, if someone wandered up here, it was usually an old monk with spiritual powers on a pilgrimage who could find their way around.

So what were you up to in his part of the forest? Perhaps you were lucky it was just his territory, or you might have already been torn up by an oni or lead astray by anything else. Instead, Atsumu had been following and watching you for a while as you moved through the lands. He waited patiently while you rested at the river and shushed away some of the animals that came too close to you for his liking. You might not recognize a deer as something dangerous, but he didn’t like thinking about the marks it would leave if it decided to bite. But now you were closing in on the end of his territory, and from then on, he wouldn’t be able to watch over you anymore, instead, having to go back to his utterly boring day in his utterly boring life.

That’s not what he wanted to let happen.

“Leaving already?” you heard behind you, instantly turning around in surprise to hear a human voice in the uninhabited forest. Even though you were tense, you didn’t seem immediately alarmed by his presence, Atsumu hiding his more extraordinary features behind magic. “Who are you?” you asked him curiously, and he lifted a hand, pointing back into his territory.

“I take care of the temple here. Not many humans come across it, have you made an offering?”

Imitating to be a shrine caretaker seemed to work as your shoulders relaxed, and you turned to him fully, flight instinct dispersing. “I must have missed it. I’m sorry...”

“No problem,” Atsumu was quick to chime up happily. “I can show you where it is. You wouldn’t want to continue on your way without divine protection, would you?”

Hesitating, you looked back at the path over your shoulder before shaking your head. “Certainly not. It can’t hurt to have some protection on this mountain, can it?”

You quickly caught up to him, and Atsumu laughed as you implied the rumors, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you believe in yokai?” he teased you, and you quickly spluttered that you weren’t afraid of these things, putting on a brave face. However, twiddling with your thumbs gave away that you did mind - a lot.

Cute, Atsumu thought.

You soon enough started to tell him all about your adventure after he initiated the conversation with, “What are you doing here?” telling him you were just wandering to get some clarity of mind. Atsumu took the time you were talking excitedly to study your features. Humans were all so unique, and even if he was able to imitate their looks, he always found himself mesmerized. Foxes usually had just one topic when it came to looks: How unique and shiny is your coat? But it was different for humans. They dyed and cut their hair as they wanted, changed their bodies significantly over time. Their noses were all very different, eyes as unique as their gestures or voices. Humans were so much more interesting than the other kitsune, even if Atsumu didn’t envy how weak they were.

“There we are,” he interrupted you merrily at the foot of the staircase leading to the temple. There really were old, rotten temple grounds on top of the steps, but one you wouldn’t be allowed to see. Humans had long forgotten and abandoned this place, justifiable even, as it was too hard to reach and maintain. No one could even come here with all these dangers. But back in the days, he remembered how much he loved watching the humans build it and pray at it, before when the humans still co-existed well with the spiritual world. But it wasn’t like when he was a little cub anymore. It was his home still, but not one he would show you.

“Well then,” you chuckled nervously, eyeing the stairs. You two began the climb in silence, your eyes mainly on the unmaintained steps, trying not to fall over them. Even focused, you were quite the adorable one, and he appreciated how chipper and optimistic you had been all the way here. Yes, you certainly were a special human, Atsumu decided, his determination only strengthening the magic that was forming halfway up the stairs.

With how little you looked up, you didn’t notice how the stairs kept coming and coming, as if in a loop. Only the feeling of exhaustion was growing on your part, but when you finally looked up, Atsumu could see your eyes growing wide with the wonders you were seeing.

“Do you like it?” he asked, inching closer to you. You were so amazed by the gold and red of the beautiful, large temple spreading out before you, you didn’t notice him taking a whiff of your scent, a mix of soap and sweat, but nothing he found terribly appalling. After all, it was your scent, and he’d find you with it no matter where you went. The scent of his human.

With a delighted giggle, you took the last three steps, leaving Atsumu behind as you looked around you. You seemed to be in awe by how beautiful the temple was that it even made Atsumu forget for a second that this was just how he created it with his magic. “Who’d have thought there’d be such a beautiful temple in the middle of nowhere,” you mumbled before finally turning around to your guide.

“You must be taking really good care--”

Only then did you notice the prominent features of a fox spirit peeking out of his hair, his tail slowly wagging behind him. Of course, in a world of his magic, he’d not be able to keep up the appearance of a human, but you had long crossed the borders to the spiritual realms. It didn’t matter anymore if you recognized him or not.

Still, you backed away in shock while Atsumu always drew closer to you no matter how many steps you took back. “I am glad you like it. Why don’t you stay here?” he asked, and panic spread in you as you looked around to find a way out. Only briefly did you look to your left and then him again before you bolted. You were quick, but if he had run after you, he would have been faster, no question asked.

Instead, Atsumu approached his home - the place he lived in all alone until now - calmly, sitting down at the stairs to the temple and waiting for the loop to bring you back. No matter how far you ran, you eventually stumbled back onto the property, falling to your knees as you didn’t expect the open space. “Welcome back,” he greeted you, and even more panic crossed your expression. For every sadistic spirit, this would have been the absolute height of pleasure, seeing their prey so desperate, but Atsumu concentrated on the most important things.

He’d need to create a room for you. A room fit for a human, where you could feel at home while you stayed here with him. “Do you like beds or futon more?” he asked you as you stumbled back over the temple grounds the second time. You gave him a confused and flabbergasted look before booking it into the other direction again. Even if he wasn’t like the other kitsune, Atsumu decided to keep it traditional with a futon.

It took you three more times before you came to a halt in front of him, asking, “Why? Let me go! I want nothing to do with the likes of you!”

“Ah, too bad,” Atsumu sighed, standing up, and for the first time, you looked up to him properly, like the good tiny human you were. Even at your size, Atsumu was a towering force, making you feel relatively small next to him, a mere illusion from his magic. You wanted to complain as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up close to his body as if he tried to melt you two together, taking another deep breath. “I always wanted my own human. Everyone said how great it is to have one just for myself, and here you are.”

He felt you shiver in his arms at his words, and it brought a smile to his face. “You’re so adorable~ Why don’t you just stay here with me and let me have you?”

“N-No!” you said firmly, using his moment of inattention to push him away roughly. “Your kind just wants to play with us and make us crazy! I want to go home! I won’t play with you!”

“Play?” Atsumu mumbled before a broad smile grazed his lips. “Do I look like a child to you? I have no such intentions. If you want to leave, by all means, leave. I know you’ll come back all on your own.”

Anger festering in your expression, you huffed before turning on your heels, running towards and down the long staircase. How could he be so sure that you’d come back? Well, you were long caught in his realm, and he had sent out the invitations to everyone on the mountain to look at his darling little human.

It was just before sunset that you crawled back to him, having seen the horrors of true monsters that wanted nothing more than to drool on you and laugh about how pitiful you were. Maybe Atsumu did want to play with you a little bit, make you a little crazy, but mostly show you there were worse creatures waiting if you left his side. Instead, he’d keep you with him safe and sound, his arms wide open as you returned, making you fall right into his lap and into the comfort he offered to you, brushing over your head as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I’ll definitely leave tomorrow,” you announced bitterly. “Sure, sure~” he merely pitied you, picking you up and carrying you inside the temple. In a few weeks, this would probably get boring, but by then, he’d surely come up with another method to keep you busy. And until then, he had a futon to share with you and a world you could never escape from until he decided to let you go.

But why would he ever let such a cute, amusing human go?

[mae-gi-writes]

Take Me Back | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! You broke up with Sunwoo because of long distance and he’s hated you ever since. When you meet up after three years, feelings resurface. 

Genre: angst, ex to lovers au, enemies to lovers kinda, fluffy ending.

A/N: JESUS i know I said that I don’t have time because I LITERALLY DON’T. So don’t ask me why all this inspiration comes to me when I can’t even sit down to write -- I write on the way to and from work, it’s so sad -- so yeah. I hope you enjoy <3 <3 

---------

Breaking up because of long distance was one of the biggest regrets of your life. The fact that you had to let him go because it was just getting too hard for your heart to cope was, in itself, heartbreaking. But you figured that it could get better, for the both of you, if you moved on with your lives without being tied at the hip with someone that was a continent away.

Except, the moment you had murmured your silent goodbyes, you had broken down into the most horrible, heartbreaking sobs that had ravaged your entire body. You cried and cried and cried, and wouldn't stop. The tears just wouldn't stop even when you told yourself that it was better this way, that he'd find someone better, stronger, it did nothing to ease the burning pain pulling your heartstrings apart.

One thing was for sure, Sunwoo's behaviour made things much easier. He'd grown distant first, curt and cold and isolating you, though you knew deep down it was a way to protect his own heart from the damage you'd inflicted on him.

But then he started ignoring your messages, spoke rudely whenever you did catch him on the phone. While you tried being understanding the first few times, you soon grew frustrated and annoyed that he'd act so childishly. The man you had once loved with all your heart had now been reduced to nothing but someone who kept digging holes into your heart.

You juggled the thought of asking him whether he hated your guts for what you did. You wouldn't judge him. On the contrary, you'd understand.

But you hadn't. Merely because the thought of losing him forever pained you.

Fast forward three years and here you were, sitting in a restaurant with a group of your high school friends, Sunwoo included. He'd nodded curtly at your appearance but did nothing more, causing your heart to squeeze in pain at the nostalgia kicking through your stomach.

"It's been years, Y/N. And you look the same," one of your good friends, Eric, jovially stated with a wink, already down by a few beers.

"Thanks Eric, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't go hitting on Sunwoo's ex with him right here," your classmate Raina said, "let's not end this dinner in a fight."

"I don't think Sunwoo minds," you mumbled loud enough for it to reach everyone's ears.

"You're right, I don't care," Sunwoo's voice -- still as deep, still as gorgeously beautiful and rough. An obvious contrast to the iciness of his words like pricks aimed at your heart.

You tried your best to brush off his comment, turning to Raina to ask her about any updates about her love life.

As the night wore on and people fell into deeper conversation, others left with excuses that they had spouses to return to, families waiting for them. Until there's only you and Eric in a corner, with Sunwoo at the bar, chatting up a gorgeous girl that looked like she had just walked out of a magazine spread.

"Still doesn't wanna talk huh?" Eric took a swig of his drink.

You shook your head, "he hates me, Eric."

"No he doesn't."

"Yes, he does.He can't even look at me in the eye without scowling."

"Bollocks. You just don't see it."

"What's there to see?" You scoffed, "if killing me was legal he would've done it ages ago."

Hesitating slightly, Eric takes another swig of his drink before replying, "look, I can't speak for him. But...you'll just have to talk to him yourself."

"Fuck no, I'm not doing that," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Stubbornness never looked good on anyone."

You pulled out your tongue in response.

"Childish," Eric's eyebrow rose in amusement. Before you could defend yourself though, the said man turned to call out Sunwoo's name and you watched in growing horror as Sunwoo walked over to your table.

"Right," Eric jumped up from his seat as though it was on fire, "Sunwoo, keep her company. I'm off to see my girlfriend."

"What? No--" but Eric was already out of the door before Sunwoo's protests were heard, resulting in an awkward air hanging off your table the moment he turned, causing you to quickly drop your eyes to the beer you were nursing.

"You don't have to stay here," came your mumble.

You felt him shift in his seat before he said, "even if I am, I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," you shot back, gaze flitting up to clash with his mahogany orbs, ones that you remembered held so much love and tenderness before. They were now cold, dark with silent seething anger. You continued, "I know you're not. I never asked you to."

"Then stopping looking at me like that," he snapped, "you of all people should know how tough this is for me."

"Sunwoo, it's been three years--"

"Don't," he cut you off with a hiss, "talk about that."

Rage started to bubble in your stomach, "I don't understand whether you hate me, or whether you’ve just turned into this rude annoying person that nobody can stand.”

He seemed to have been slapped by your statement, stayed silent for a few minutes as he clasped his drink a little tighter.

Knowing Sunwoo, he was probably silently seething from what you'd just said. Your own fingers clenched around your beer, hating how easily he could upset you even after all these years.

When he spoke next, his alto was slightly softer, a little less harsh on you, "I don't hate you."

"Doesn't seem like it to me."

There was a pause in which you managed to recollect your emotions, the anger simmering down to cold remorse at how badly you had left things.

"I'm sorry," you murmured out, avoiding his eyes in case he saw the pain that consumed you, "I know it's not easy for you. It's not easy for me either."

"I don't hate you, Y/N," Sunwoo's alto was gentle this time, without any of the malice of the earlier hour, "I...It just hurts me, every time I see you I can't stop thinking of what we were before. I--" he shifted and you managed to lift your orbs up to his, only to see guilt swimming through his as he choked out, "I miss you."

Emotion tightened your chest. Tears rushed to your eyes, "I miss you too."

You stayed unmoving, your eyes saying everything that your words couldn't. The music boomed around you, filled the empty silence that would've swallowed you whole otherwise.

When you felt your ex-boyfriend move in your peripheral, you glanced at him, noticing for the first time the tired lines around his eyes. What looked like resignation was set on his face.

And then he was pushing his hair back, muttering a string of excuses about how he couldn't do this anymore before he walked right out of the bar, with you gaping at his retreating form.

"Sunwoo! Hey--" you scrambled up to chase after him, stumbling over your feet as you gripped your bag clumsily. Running out into the street to see him already steps ahead of you, you quickly jogged up to his frame, not taking into account the nervous fluttering through your chest.

"Hey, wait! Sunwoo!" You gripped onto his arm and pulled him back. He resisted.

You started blurting things out anyway, desperate to make things right, desperate to take away the pain he felt.

"Sunwoo I'm sorry," you stumbled on as he quickened his stride, "I never--I never meant to hurt you, I-- I thought that it was best for both of us at the time, I didn't--" your words were choked, laced with emotion, "I didn't know how hard it would be."

He stopped so abruptly you almost walked into his back.

His shoulders shook as he spoke, "when we broke up, I couldn't stop thinking. Did I do something wrong? Should I have done more?" He took a breath, "I wasn't living, Y/N. I barely ate. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. It was-- it was horrible," his alto broke at the last word.

You took a step closer. Tentative. Hesitant. Hands tightened into fists.

He continued, "and it never got better. I thought it would. That's what they all said. But three years have passed. Three years and I still feel like I lost the most precious fucking thing in my life and I can't live with myself because of that."

You couldn't feel your heart, which was tightening with pain and sympathy that mirrored his words. Memories of you crying into your pillow as you willed all of your love to disappear, memories of the dull ache stretching across your ribs because you had cried too much.

You opened your mouth, an apology on the tip of your tongue, when Sunwoo swivelled around so fast you barely blinked, his hands finding your shoulders in a tight grip.

"Y/N," His eyes were red and red-rimmed as they searched yours in growing desperation, "look Y/N, what I had-- what we had, I miss that. I miss us. Please, I--" swallowing thickly as his grip tightened on you, he continued, "you can do anything. Anything, Y/N. Break me. Use me. Do whatever the fuck you want but just-- just--" his chest heaved with a shaky inhale, a sob echoing from his throat, "just let me be yours again."

The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't believe your ears. Your heart beat so loud you felt it vibrate against your ribcage.

His chest heaved, his breaths coming out short and static as he stared at you, waiting, hoping.

There were so many things, so many things you wished to say at this very moment, so many things that you had regretted the moment you had parted ways with this amazing man.

And now, to hear that he wanted you back, that he was still undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with you was enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes as another wave of pure hope crashed through your heart and flooding it with light. 

"Y/N," Sunwoo searched your eyes, "say something--"

You did. Jumped up to press your mouth against his.

He stumbled, hands finding purchase at your waist.

And when he kissed you back, all thoughts flew out of your head only to leave Sunwoo's taste engulfing your entire being like you had never stopped loving him from the first day you met.

It was pure, utter bliss. It was like finding the lost lover that had parted ways with you at sea. Sunwoo's mouth was hard on your own as he moved with the same grace, the same fluidity that left you breathless. His grip tightened, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest on your lower back as sparks ignited beneath your half-closed lids. Everything came crashing back; the memories, the happiness, the giddy excitement that erupted in the form of goosebumps and electrical sizzles over your limbs whenever Sunwoo kissed you.

It had never stopped. And at this very moment, you wondered briefly why you had forced him away when your heart was still irrevocably his.

One hand coming up to cup your jaw, he proceeded to tilt your head back to suckle onto your lower lip, the action causing a gasp to die in your throat while your hands tightened around his neck, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

Sunwoo's chest rumbled with a choked up moan, tongue darting out to meet yours halfway while a soft whimper echoed through your throat. You tried to match his movements, to kiss back as passionately as he was kissing you. But it was almost like Sunwoo was trying his best to make up for all the time you's spent apart, his mouth permanently pressed on yours and when you turned to catch your breath, he kissed your cheek, the corner of your eye, pulling you into him to imprint another kiss at the base of your neck.

You shuddered with emotion, body lighting up on fire and heat pooling through your stomach. Turning your head back until your noses brushed, your breath caught when your eyes locked, for Sunwoo's gaze was one of fierce, intense affection, as though you were something he'd sworn to protect his whole life.

"Don't," his gaze softened, thumb brushing your lower lip, "don’t ever leave me again, I--” his own lips trembled, "I don't know how...how I'll live with myself if you do."

You knew that words were going to be useless at this point, so you just nodded, biting down on your lower lip as he leaned in and dropped a kiss near your temple.

It was weird after so long, to have his body so close and his scent overwhelming your senses, a reminder of many long nights where you'd cuddled up to sleep on his chest. Just the memory made your lips tilt into a soft amile.

That grabbed his attention, "what are you thinking about?" He murmured.

"About you," your soft maroon clash with his intense dark chocolate, "about how stupid it was to have given up on us, because all this time apart feels like a waste. And I feel so stupid."

"It's not your fault Y/N," he smoothed a hand over the side of your head as his gaze softened, "there were so many things working against us. And maybe-- maybe it was right, at this time."

Your head tilted upwards to watch him. You felt his fingers, absentmindedly drumming against your lower back and igniting a line of sparks up your spine.

He continued, "I wouldn't have known, how important you were to me, how you filled up such a major part of my life--Oh shit. You're crying?" He was quick to catch your incoming tear with his thumb, panic flashing through his features, "Y/N? What is it? What did I say?” 

“Nothing, it’s nothing I just--I’m so sorry I broke up with you,” you blurted out as silent tears trailed down your cheeks. Shaking your head and looking up into his maroon orbs, you impulsively reached up to cup his face with your hands. Lucky, your subconscious chanted. You were lucky to have someone like him.

"Come here,” You didn’t protest when Sunwoo’s arms tugged you into his broad chest -- was it broader? You felt like it was-- before his head rested atop yours. Another softest of pecks was imprinted atop your forehead, then your nose, before he dipped his head for a chaste kiss upon your mouth. 

It felt like a promise. It felt like a message conveyed from him to you, that he wasn’t about to let go, prompted even more when he wound his arms around your frame in a firm, yet gentle hug. 

You pillowed your head against his chest, closed your eyes, and counted all your blessings. 

You were definitely counting Sunwoo as one. And you’d make sure that you wouldn’t be as foolish as to let go of him ever again. 

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 1: Trick

Trick of the Light

Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick

Jack had gone to the reunion to reconnect with his old friend Vlad.

Vlad let's Jack learn intimately what he has dealt with twenty years ago.

AO3 

This is my first attempt at gore or horror in general, so be warned and mind the tags.

Blood and Gore, Major Character Death.

Jack couldn't believe what he had seen, let alone what he had just heard. The words rang in his ear, even after the room had fallen into dead silence. He held his breath, the shock of what was in front of him stealing the air from his lungs. His mind rejected the words he just heard. Had he even really heard them? They couldn’t be true. This must be-

"This is a trick," Jack said, his words rushing out. The only answer was a chuckle.

"A trick?" Vlad Masters's grin widened. Hands behind his back, he strolled closer to Jack, eyes still glowing a frightening red. Jack felt the urge to step away from the burning stare, but was immobilized by the metal restraints that kept him in place, helplessly standing to face his best friend.

"A trick. Ghosts are liars. You're possessing Vlad! You can't be him. Get out of my best friend, you ecto scum," Jack said with forced bravado, there were no weapons or tools to back up his demands. He once more tried to break out of the metal cuffs around his arms and legs. To no avail.

"You really are dense. There is no one in here but me," Vlad took another step closer. Jack tried to lean away, but could barely move an inch. Vlad tilted his head, smirking as Jack flinched.

"The only trick was you believing that I would forgive you after all these years. That after twenty years, we could just pretend that nothing happened. That you didn't ruin my life," Vlad continued, grin fading with every word. His eyes glowed an even a brighter red.

"Vladdie, I never-"

"Visited while I was in the hospital? While I was dying from your incompetence? Never thought to check on me? Never considered me when you married Maddie, when you knew I had feelings for her?" Vlad asked, carefully watching Jack's reaction to each word. The bigger man couldn't help but flinch as if he had been slapped. "The things that you never did, Jack Fenton, could write a book. The only 'never' I care about now is Never Again ."

With that, Vlad stepped away, back turned to Jack. Jack felt a trickle of fear settle in his gut. The sharp clack of Vlad's shoes against the metal floor seemed abnormally loud as he walked away. Like thick nails hammered into a coffin.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Jack stuttered. Vlad did not answer, nor show signs of even hearing the larger man’s question. He typed on a large computer, his back completely toward Jack. Jack gulped and sweat started to bead on his brow as he listened to the click of the keys. The methodical sound caused Jack to shiver.

"V-vlad, talk to me. I'm sorry everything happened this way, but I'm here now. We can fix this. We can find a cure," Jack squirmed against the metal. He startled when the harsh squeal of metal scraping against metal sounded overhead. He couldn't see into the darkness, but he heard the screeching noise come closer through the shadows. He swallowed convulsively. "Vlad, just talk to me! I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry. Sorry would mean that you had the self-awareness to realize you did something wrong," Vlad tapped a key, before turning toward Jack. Jack could only make out the glowing red eyes, Vlad's features skewed by the dull glow of the computer screen. Jack shuddered, imagining he could feel the heat of the hatred in those inhuman eyes. A hatred that seemed to burn against his very soul. "No, you're not sorry. You're just afraid. "

Jack's breath sped up as he continued his struggle against his restraints. An electric whirring sound filled the room. Jack's eyes locked onto a pinprick of growing green light. It seemed to twist in the air, pulsing as it grew. From the size of a dime, to a quarter, to a tennis ball. His heart hammered in his chest as the green energy grew. The pulse of the machine sped faster, small bursts of electricity zipped through the air at random intervals, causing the air to taste of metal and ozone. The light grew larger, spinning and twirling in an unstable elliptical. Jack gasped for air frantically, his hands shaking and teeth painfully chattering. The light grew more lopsided and unstable. A low hum grew rapidly in pitch until it hit a note so high Jack's ears ached from the noise. The soft hum of the machine transformed into a monstrous roar. Jack tried desperately to move away, the heat of the energy-the ectoplasm started to burn his cheeks, like standing too long near an open oven.

"Vlad, please! I have a family. I have kids!" Jack begged, trying to look past the growing energy. He saw nothing but two dots of red.

The energy seemed to break free of whatever tethered it in place. Jack screamed as the ectoplasm rushed into his exposed face. He imagined this is what it would feel like to dip his head into molten lava, the burn sticking to his flesh. He writhed as he felt the charged energy sear off his skin, the dying flesh seemed to slough from the muscles of his cheek in great chunks. His eyes boiled in their sockets, the goo trying to pour down his cheeks before they sizzled away from the intense heat. A mockery of tears he wished to shed. Jack continued to scream, even as his tongue fried in his mouth, the taste of blood and charr choking him as the melted muscle slid down his throat. Still Jack screamed and begged wordlessly for Vlad to stop, even as the ligament in his left cheek gave out and his jaw detached, hanging by sizzling strings of meat. He thrashed, trying to get away from the heat, the pain, the horror of the feeling that went beyond physical. The knowledge that he wasn't the first to experience such agony. The world seemed to twist in impossible shapes, nothing but the horrible green.

Suddenly the heat was gone and he felt a jarring thump against the side of his head. He could finally focus on something other than pain. Other than the insensate revelation that pain was all there was. And yet now. He felt nothing, nothing but deep-seated wrongness and the memory of the trauma. Not cold, nor pain. He knew that he had no eyes, but somehow he could see. See even clearer in the dark lab than before.

The green light was above him, focused in a single line. It was the only thing he could focus on, the brightness doing nothing to illuminate the room. How was he on the floor? Was he able to free himself? He couldn't move. He couldn't even speak. How did this happen? What is happening?

The green light began to fade, dissolving away far quicker that Jack would have assumed. And as it faded, Jack felt a bone-deep horror.

There he stood, still attached in the cuffs, unmoving and slumped against his restraints. His hazmat suit torn and burned, the rubber melting to his skin. The material barely held his left shoulder in place, the joint having given out as the intense heat sheared off the skin and muscle, the arm nearly dragging on the ground with a bit of blackened bone sticking out where it was once attached.. But what sent him into mental hysterics was further up.

All that remained was the blackened bone of his neck, each vertebrae precariously balanced. As he watched, the top two toppled to the ground with wooden clacks. His head was completely gone.

Once more, he heard the tell-tale sound of Vlad's shoes clicking against the metallic floor. Jack's soul trembled as the sound came closer.

Those two glowing eyes stared down at him with satisfaction. Jack could do nothing as one finely polished shoe lifted and settled just over where his eye should be.

He felt a crack.

[hockeyboysimagines]

All good boys go to Heaven but bad boys bring Heaven to you

Chapter 6

Warnings: language, sex, a fist fight, (tw) stalking, lots of angst, and some fluff.

Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve been trying to get Say it to me softly out, and now it’s finished so this will be updated more regularly. This is a very appropriate gif for this chapter. Stay tuned💕

“Chucky watch out!” Matt turned just as a puck cracked off the side of his helmet and sent him tumbling to the ice. He hadn’t been paying attention during practice, instead thinking all the ‘not sleeping’ he had done the night before. He could hear Noah and Johnny laughing as they skated over and helped him up. He deserved that one.

“Dude you gotta pay attention. What’s going on in there today space cadet?”

He wanted nothing more than to tell them. He was not only thinking about Hallie, but also about the mysterious flowers that had obviously rattled her. So he went with amended version of the truth.

“We’ll actually.” He turned to Noah and leaned on his stick “Has Hallie ever mentioned like a bad boyfriend or anything?”

Noah looked at the ceiling and chewed on his lip for a moment before he shook his head “I don’t think so, not to me anyway. Why?”

He chose his words carefully, keeping his expression cool “Well I showed up at her place yesterday and made her have dinner with me, and while I was there she said she got flowers and she assumed they were from me. But I didn’t send her any, and she got all fucking weird about it.”

“Was there a card?”

He shook his head “No but she was definitely upset. I offered to stay but she said it was fine.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and gave him a shove “Of course you did.”

“I can ask Carly if you want. They tell eachother everything.”

“No it’s okay. I don’t wanna invade her privacy or anything. Just seemed weird to me.”

They went back to running drills but his mind was still elsewhere. The more he thought about it the more her behavior bothered him. She had seemed upset, anxious, and scared and the whole thing had rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to get involved in her business but it was really bothering him.

*******

“Come on Hal we’re going to be late.” Carly complained as Hallie shoved her feet into her shoes. She locked the door behind her and dig around in her bag as they took the elevator and exited her building towards the parking lot.

As they walked through the parking lot, she was still digging for her keys when she felt Carly’s hand on her arm forcing her to stop.

“Hal?”

Hallie looked up and felt the blood feeeze in her veins. Rose petals littered her car, moving very gently in the breeze. She took a step backwards turning her head this way and that but the parking lot was empty. She turned slowly towards Carly who was looking at her alarmed.

She began to shake, eyes filling with tears. She thought when she came here this would be over, that she could finally be free and not live her life looking over her shoulder. But she was wrong.

“He found me.”

**********

“Hal? It’s me open the door.” Matt said knocking. He hadn’t heard from her all day, and was starting to get worried when Carly told him she was sick, but was them confused when she texted him and told him to come over. He heard her shuffle around on the other side of the door before she eased it open, big eyes peering at him through the crack.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, come in. Hurry up.”

She yanked him inside and clicked the lock as she shut the door. He frowned at her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine why?” She breezed past him to pick up her buzzing phone on the counter. As she read the message the color in her face drained.

“Something wrong?”

Hallie stuffed her phone in her pocket and shook her head not meeting his eye.

“No why?”

He shrugged “ you just got super weird when your phone went off that’s all.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did but it’s none of my business.”

“Your right. It’s not.”

“Maybe I should just go.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm holding him in place “I-I mean sorry. I just had a long day is all. Stay please?” She looked uncomfortable asking him, but there was another emotion he couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it was convincing.

“I got your mail by the way.” He said setting several white envelopes and a large Manila one down on the counter, and walking from the kitchen to the bathroom. He needed a shower, and went to rummage through the collection of clothing he had accumulated. He had hoped by pulling his shirt off and walking back past the kitchen he could entice Hallie to come shower with him but he found her standing with her back to him, looking at an article of mail in her hand. He could see her trembling from where he stood.

She had opened the large envelope first, noticing it had no return address, but felt bulky and heavy. She felt goosebumps bloom across her skin as a stack of photos slid out and she looked through them. There were dozens, her walking to work, out with friends, her and Matthew. Each photo got progressively closer and some had foul crude writing on them. Mattys face was crossed out on several of them and a few were ripped in half.

“Hallie?”

Matt was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless looking at her, concerned. She thought for a minute about hiding them but she knew that there would be no point. She held the photos out to him and he took them, frowning. His eyebrows furrowed as he shuffled through them.

“What-what is this?” He looked mad now, eyes burning. His knuckles were white as he gripped them ”Who took these?”

She took a deep breath “ His name is Ryan. I dated him for a few months before I moved here, to get away from him. He started stalking me, saying we were meant to be and he couldn’t live without me. I thought I got away from him but he found me. He left roses on my car this morning. And he texted me just now.”

“How long has this been going on?”

She looked down “A few days. That’s where the flowers came from the other day. And I got a weird phone call at my office last week. -“

“A few days? And your just telling me this now?”

“I’m sorry. I thought he would just go away. I was wrong.”

Yeah I’d say you were. We need to go to the police.”

“I already have. They can’t do anything about it. Besides he’s just trying to scare me.”

“ And what happens when that’s not enough for him anymore? What happens then? If you think this creep is going to be content to watch you forever, your wrong. He’s going to hurt you.”

“I know I’m-I’m sorry.”

“That’s it. I’m moving in here.”

“What?! No!”

“It’s not up for discussion. Till this guy goes away I’m staying here.”

She wanted to be annoyed, but in all honesty she was relieved. She felt safe with him in the apartment, and it felt good to get this off her chest.

“And what are we going to tell our friends?”

“Would it be so bad if they just knew about us? I mean really Hal. Your starting to make me feel like I’m just a good lay and that’s the only reason you keep me around.”

She looked hurt for a minute and her expression softened “Matty. I’m sorry.” She put a hand on his arm and rugged him closer “I never meant to make you feel that way. I’m just scared okay. Of this, of Ryan of everything. We will talk about this, but give me some time.”

He pursed his lips for a minute before he nodded.

“Okay. That’s fair.”

She squeezed his arm before wrapping her own around him, her head resting on his chest near his heart. He was so big and safe, any worry she had about Ryan out the window, as she stood listen to his heart beating through his shirt.

She had lived by herself for so long it was weird having a roommate. Especially one who walked around mostly shirtless and slept in her bed. She learned a lot about him in the following days. She learned how incredibly sweet he was, and how much he loved his mom and his sister. She learned he slept on the left side of the bed, that he never had a dog growing up, and that he was not the pest that everyone saw on the ice. She learned that he loved to dance, and they had spent much time slow dancing in her kitchen, and that he could talk about everything and anything late at night. His voice, which had annoyed the hell out of her just a few months ago, now soothed her every time she heard it. She liked seeing him smile at her across the table, or next to her while they brushed teeth, and his presence had become a comfort that she never knew she needed. She had fallen hard for Matthew Tkachuk, just like she knew she would.

One particular rainy Sunday morning she had woken up to his big rough hands barely brushing the bare skin of her back. She rolled over eyes still closed, lips immediately finding his in the dim light of her bedroom. He kissed her deeply, lips moving slowly, tongue pushing inside her mouth. There was already minimal clothing on, so it didn’t take long before he was pushing inside her. She let out a breath, eyes closing slowly. Each time was more enthralling than the last time. He moved slowly, lazily hot breath on her neck. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. She could her the dull pounding of rain hitting her window, the thick grey clouds making the room dim. But she could see those eyes burning into her own, as he moved above her, curls falling into his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her heavily, as his pushes became faster until he let out a ragged breath as she tensed around him, her own high coming with his.

“Can we stay in bed all day and do that again?”

Before she could answer she heard her front door open and then close. Panic rose in her throat as Matt jumped off the bed, yanking a pair of gym shorts on and banged the bedroom door open. He couldn’t believe this creep was bold enough to come into her apartment in broad daylight, but he was going to kill him before he got the chance to ever do it again.

“Matty wait!” She whispered pulling a T-shirt over her head as she hurried out behind him. To her horror it was not Ryan in her kitchen, but Noah and Carly standing there with wide eyes and open mouths.

“What the hell?” Noah said, eyebrows raised so far up his forehead they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

Hallies face had bypassed Red and turned Maroon as she shrank down behind him under Carly’s glare.

“Are you two serious right now?” She asked hands on her hips, looking between them.

“How long has this been going on?” Noah asked. He too was frowning, arms crossed. He knew something was up, and they had become even more suspicious when Hallie started being magically busy the past few weeks, coupled with Matthew being notably absent and coming and going at all hours. They had never though thought in a million years they would find them shacked up together in Hallies apartment.

Matthew took a deep breath and turned to look at her before looking back at their friends “Since that weekend at the lake.”

Carly sucked in a loud breath, eyes huge. She sputtered for a few moments, words completely escaping her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked after a few moments. She looked hurt. Hallie had wanted to tell her so bad, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. She was so scared that she had even let him in, but now to tell everyone else? That was terrifying.

“Let’s talk about this another time yeah?” Noah said, giving Carly’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“No.” Matt said “Let’s talk about it now. We didn’t tell you guys because we didn’t really know what to say. I honestly still don’t know what this is.”

“But there’s something else too.” Hallie reached behind her to pick up the envelope full of photos and handed them to Carly. She looked alarmed as she pulled them out, face turning white.

“Hallie.” She whispered.

“What the fuck?” Noah said, grabbing a few photos from Carly’s hand, and looking at both of them clearly confused.

“Sit down.” Matt said, patting the counter and walking to the fridge to pull out the liquor “We’ll tell you everything.”

And they did. They started with the lake house and went from there. Hallie and Carly walked Noah and Matt through the details on what had happened with Ryan and how they had come to Calgary to get away from him. Noah was so angry about the stalking, and the fact that she had kept it from them, he gave her a very stern talking to.

“This creep could have hurt you. Both of you.” He said glaring at Carly as well “We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know what we’re trying to keep you safe from.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Carly said giving his hand a squeeze.

“Now that we’re all in the loop I think we can agree that you two can’t go places alone for right now.” Matt said rubbing his chin “It’s just the way it is. Until this guy goes away or does something to get arrested for it has to be this way. When we have away games you two have some kind of sleepover or something. Have Jay come too.”

Carly giggled “I don’t really see Jay taking down an intruder, but safety in numbers right.” They laughed and the mood seemed to change. They decided to order takeout, and Hallie realized how much better she felt not keeping secrets. To finally have her and Matt out there in the open felt good, and natural.

After Noah and Carly left, it was just them in her apartment. He was smiling at her, a smile she hadn’t seen before. He walked very slowly towards her, eyes burning into her own.

“Thank you.” He said coming to a stop in front of her, hands resting on her shoulders.

“For?”

“For telling our friends. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know you didn’t want to, and I know your not my girlfriend or anything but thank you.”

“You haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend.”

He shrugged “I’m not really in the market for a relationship right now so.”

She gaped at him till he burst out laughing and swept her up, carrying her down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“Come on. Let’s go do boyfriend girlfriend stuff.”

********

As news of their new relationship spread, Matthews performance on the ice skyrocketed. He was having a great season, exploding on the ice and making headlines every game. He was still a pest, and that would probably never change, but he found himself playing with a confidence he didn’t know he had.

Plus it was an added bonus to look up and see Hallie sitting in the stands, looking so damn good with his name across her back. She was a steady constant in his life, and he found that having a real relationship was better than any hookup.

After one particularly physical game, Hallie waited nervously in the hallways outside the dressing room. Noah exited followed by Johnny and came over dropping a kiss on Carly’s cheek and turning to Hallie with a smile. Johnny gave her a gentle bump on the shoulder and grinned when he saw her expression.

“He’ll be out in a second.”

She peeked our from behind Him, as the door banged open and Matt came through the doors of the locker room, wet curls falling around his face with a casual elegance, cheeks pink, tie loosened around his neck. His eyes searched around the room till they landed on her and he smiled.

That damn smile.

He accepted a few pats on the back from his teammates as he made his way over to her, and stopped a few feet in front of her. She looked him over not noticing any injuries or blood and he held his arms out wide.

“ I’m fine Hallie. “

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and fell gratefully into his arms. He was so big and warm and she closed her eyes and breathed him in.

Watching Him fight had been a confusing expression to say the least. She had seen videos of it on YouTube but watching it happen live was completely different than through the tv screen. It was horrible because he was her boyfriend and she didn’t want him to get hurt, but it was enthralling to watch him throw his 6”2 frame around with such confidence on the ice. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or smack him and the whole experience had left her emotionally drained.

They made idle chatter as they made their way out of the SaddleDome and into the parking garage, making plans to get together with some other guys from the team the following evening.

Once they were buckled in the car he turned to find her already staring at him.

“What?”

Her eyes were squinted and her head was turned to the side and like a flash of lightning she had hopped from the passenger seat to the back. He wasted no time following her, as they hurriedly pulled at whatever clothing was necessary to come off. She tugged the zipper of his suit pants down, and hiked up her skirt. She was dressed for work, having come to the game right from there with no time to change. She motioned for him to sit but he shook his head and leaned her back against the backseat, coming in between her legs. She settled in, opening her legs. His eyes bugged as he watched her pull the skirt up to reveal she wasn’t wearing stocking, but black thigh highs, and no underwear.

“Hal.” He breathed as she pulled his suit pants down enough and guided him towards her entrance. Her eyes closed and she arched back against the seat at the sensation of him pushing inside of her. He pushed again, adrenaline pumping through him as he quickened his pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

“Matty.” She breathed, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him. She fisted his dress shirt in her hands, as she pushed her tongue inside his mouth kissing him sloppily. Her legs began to ache as his pushed became erratic, and she came, him following shortly after. They say breathing heavily for a few minutes before he pulled out of her and sat next to her, situating his suit pants and turning to her. She smiled tiredly at him, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Take me home.”

********

Hallie felt a twinge of annoyance at the way the girl was so obviously flirting with him and he was doing nothing to stop her. After a long night and a lot of sex, Hallie was overly tired and hadn’t really been in the mood to go out at all. She only had because she promised Carly she would. Matthew had gone to the bar to get a drink and was immediately approached By some bimbo in a short skirt, and that was all it took to bring Hallies mood down even more than it already was.

“Relax Hal.” Carly warned. She could feel an angry heat creep up her neck as she watched him smile at the girl, way to friendly for a guy who had a ‘girlfriend.” She angrily slugged the rest of her drink before setting it down loudly on the table.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She said stand up and storming towards the ladies room sign, glaring at the back of the girls head who was flirting with her boyfriend.

She burst through the door, startling several girls who were fixing their makeup and blinked away angry tears while she went pee. Who did he think he was? They finally tell their friends the truth and here he was laughing and smiling with some random girl in the bar.

When she exited the bathroom she felt a hand on her arm. She turned ready to chew Matt out, when she realized the hand wasn’t his. She froze. It felt like someone was pouring maple syrup over head, and it was trickling down her body suffocating her as she came face to face with Ryan.

“Hi Hallie. I’ve missed you.”

“Get away from me Ryan.”

“I’m sorry about the photos, it was the only way I knew to get a hold of you after you blocked my phone number.”

“And what about the flowers on my car? How did you find my apartment?”

“I just know that you really love pink roses.”

“How did you find my house?”

He took a step forward and backed her further into the corner. Carly had noticed the exchange from across the bar and stood suddenly knocking her stool back and startling Noah. Matt turned from the conversation he was having to look at her as she jumped over the stool.

“That’s Ryan.”

As Hallie tried to maneuver around Ryan he grabbed her arm.

“Hallie please talk to me.” As she tried to pull away there was a commotion and Ryan’s face went white, a look of terror flashing across it. She turned just in time for a fist to come flying over her shoulder and connect solidly with Ryan’s face.

“Matty no!” She tried to grab on to the back of his T-shirt as he surged forward, punching Ryan again. He was so much bigger than her and she struggled nearly falling forward, until Noah appeared and grabbed Matt around the middle hauling him backwards. Johnny was standing looking at the scene with his mouth open and Carly was attempting to help Noah pull Matt towards towards the entrance. Hallie bit back tears and gave Ryan once last glance before she followed her friends out of the bar.

She burst through the door of her apartment not checking to see if he was behind her or not. She was so angry at him for what he had done she didn’t even want to look at him.

“Look I’m sorry okay?” He said leaning against the doorframe. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding and he was flexing his fingers, bruises beginning to bloom across his knuckles. “I just. When I saw that guy grab you like that, I don’t know. I just reacted” He looked at his hand and sighed “ it’s cuz I fucking love you okay?”

“You have to stop punching first and asking questions later. You almost punched me in the face!”

“I would never punch you in face Hal-“

“Your fist was two inches from hitting me.”

He looked at his feet embarrassed before she continued.

“And don’t think I didn’t see you flirting with that girl either!”

“What? What girl?”

“The bimbo at the bar who’s chest you couldn’t stop staring at! Thanks for making a complete idiot out of me in front of everyone!”

“This is never gonna change is it? Your never going to trust me.”

“Give me one good reason why I should?! You fill my head with air about wanting to have relationship with me then you flirt with some girl at the bar!”

They were standing ten feet apart, red faced and screaming at each other.

“I don’t need this.” He snapped grabbing his he let and leaving the room. She followed him.

“No you don’t need this and you clearly don’t need me either. Get out!”

“I am. And I won’t be coming back either.” He slammed the door behind him as she stood there, fists balled up at her sides. She listened to him walk angrily down the hallway until his footsteps could no longer be heard.

[cdroloisms]

Hello, idk if you’ll see this, nor do you have to take this request. But I’ve been thinking, and thought up: Dream joined the egg, but not because it offered him world domination or a happy family or any of that; no it offered to treat him kindly, to be affectionate, to be a friend, basically offering him human decency. (With an add on of everyone believing it was for some big reason, but the actual reason gets revealed somehow) if that made any sense. (Idk if this counts as an au or not)

[ask: if dream showed up to the red banquet, that would be very sexy of the writers to make him join the eggpire instead of the pro-omlette]

hehe egg!dream has so much potential ,, this is a ficlet i’ve been working on for a while (writer’s block my detested) but i finally finished it up !! it’s a bit unpolished but oh well - they cant all be winners lmao 

tw: body horror, blood, injuries, implied torture/abuse, starvation, possession, dark/disturbing imagery, dark content, pandora’s vault/prison arc 

Dream gets corrupted by the Egg, because of course he does.

Sapnap trudges through the vine-filled hallway, his face bundled firmly with a holy-water soaked bandana to keep out the worst of the spores. It’s a shoddy defense, but he doesn’t plan to stay long; he’s only been sent on reconnaissance, to see what public enemy number one is planning and get out as quickly as he can. As much as the entire server wants Dream dead, trying to defeat the man the first time was enough of a feat, never mind with the power of a giant demon egg on his side - to try and fight him now would be practically impossible.

The floor squishes underneath his boots, and his lips curl in disgust; the vines are thick and moist and feel ugly and rotten to the core. He can’t imagine anyone being anything but repulsed by the things, but he guesses it makes sense for Dream to be drawn here - corruption attracts corruption, it seems. It only figures that Dream would be desperate enough for power to let himself get possessed by the living - if you could really call it living - embodiment of decay and deterioration itself. The feeling of the floor giving way underneath his footsteps has another wave of revulsion crawling up his throat, though he’s not sure if it’s directed towards the Egg or his former friend or both.

He reaches the end of the hallway, an itching, pulsing feeling of wrong filling the air in the room just beyond the haphazard archway carved into the stone. With careful hands, Sapnap draws the bandana further up his face, making sure that it is tied securely behind his head - just beyond this wall lies the belly of the beast, the heart of the rot slowly but surely spreading its influence over the entire server. Something hums in the air; whispering, otherworldly sounds pierce through his armor and settle beneath his skin; he pushes on. He knows better than to listen, to try and make sense of the words within the noise - from what he’s heard, by the time you understand what it is saying, it’s too late.

He steps inside; the room feels, for the lack of a better word, red. He’s better suited for the place than most, being a Netherborn and therefore more used to the oppressive heat and heaviness of the air, but there’s something undeniably wrong about how this place feels, something entirely Other having made its home in the room. Every inch of the place feels hostile, angry, hungry, recognizing him as someone foreign and wanting nothing more than his destruction. Unlike the Red Forests, which teemed with life - piglins and hoglins and giant fungus - this room is little more than a twisted mimicry, sucking the air dry, leaving little more than husks behind.

His hand immediately goes to his sword, drawing it with a dull, metallic scrape. The room is eerily silent save for the Egg’s hissing whispers, and he frowns; he’d expected an attack, but the room is still, quiet; a mockery of peace that only makes the uneasy feeling in his gut grow further. He trudges forward, watching against the puddles of lava and smoking magma scattered over the floor, but nothing stirs.

There’s a growing pressure against his skull with each step into the room, and his hand tightens on his communicator; they’d set up a stasis chamber, just in case things went south, his way out of this place only a few button presses away. Still, nothing moves; no Bad or Ant popping out of nowhere, weapons in hand, no Dream driving an axe between his shoulder blades as he’s done so many times before in their spars. There’s only the sound of his footsteps against the rotting growths on the floor and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears and the Egg’s warbling voice, beneath it all - beckoning, almost kind.

He swallows, throat dry, and moves forward.

His feet carry him to the back corner of the room, to the rotting, pulsing core of the wrongness plaguing the entire server. Even through his bandana, the air feels foreign, nearly choking him, and he strains his eyes against the glare of the lava to look up at the vines’ rancid heart, the Egg. Up close, it’s almost underwhelming, only about three times his height, hardly coming halfway up to the ceiling of the room. What it doesn’t have in size, however, it makes up in sheer presence; the hissing whispers in his head grow louder, crawling under his skin and between his bones, and he curses under his breath as he prepares to call for his way back. Dream isn’t here; the mission is a bust.

“Sapnap?”

He freezes.

It takes a moment to realize that the voice wasn’t in his head, as raspy and unsettling as it was, and his eyes traced the edges of the Egg to a dull colored shape at its side, completely overlooked in his initial sweep of the room. He watches, a dull horror rising in his chest, as the shape moves, twists around on itself in an entirely unnatural way like a marionette pulled by its strings. A pale dot rises from where it had been hidden against the bright red of the Egg; it’s a face, Dream’s face, covered in clawing vines, stark against the bone-white of his sun-starved skin, vomit racing up his throat at the sight of the vines having made their homes in jagged wounds all over his face and neck and disappearing into the torn scraps of his prison uniform, each one spilling crimson in the form of writhing vines and thorns instead of blood.

“Sapnap,” Dream says again, his mouth moving with the words but something entirely other having made its home in the air of his lungs, a shivering rasp to his voice that lifts and falls with the same desperate hunger that saturates every tainted inch of the room. His neck tips to the side, shifted over by a twisting vine tangled within his hair and wrapping a crown of blood-red thorns over his forehead, tendrils drooping over his face and framing the gaunt edges. “You came.”

“Dream-” the anger comes back, familiar, at the other’s words - the same red-hot rage that had boiled within him in that first and only prison visit (you took so long) but it dissipates as fast as it comes. Dream - if this remnant, this shade, this corrupted, mangled half that seems more corruption than human can even be called the name of one he had once considered his best friend, his brother - stumbles closer, held up by the vines that twist over his shaking legs, one having the pale, ragged edge of a bone clearly having ripped through skin - and Sapnap does throw up, this time, dragging the bandana from his face and heaving bile all over the floor.

“What happened-” he cries, flames licking up his arms in defense when his friend-turned-monster-turned-this steps closer on a wreck of a leg that should not be able to bear weight, stumbles back to a roaring in his ears-

He is mine he came broken came shattered and I gave him everything I gave him his heart’s desire I am his savior his grace he asked for warmth and he asked for comfort and he asked for nothing but for someone to take his pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine

He freezes, hand tightening over his communicator; Dream stares at him with the one dull-green eye not covered by the vines splayed over his too-pale face, mouth moving but no sound coming out. The roaring, angry sound in Sapnap’s ears grows louder, follows the shape of Dream’s lips come join your friend come with me I will give him to you you have failed him once but not again not again he is mine but you can be mine also and you will be together together together

“-pnap! Sapnap!” Puffy’s words crackle over the communicator, harsh and loud and snapping him out of his thoughts, “Pull the switch, Sam! No, he’s not responding- pull the switch-”

The world dips, and he heaves in a shattered breath, lungs finally full as he breathes in clear air for the first time in what feels like an eternity, hacking coughs pulled from his throat as he tears the bandana off in one sputtering gasp for breath.

“Sap- Sapnap,” Sam pitches his voice low, comforting, a hand rubbing up and down his back, but all Sapnap can see is the skeleton of a man held together by red thread, the life leached from his skin and leaving nothing left, he asked for nothing but for someone to take the pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine-

“Sapnap,” Puffy’s voice is tinny with concern, “What happened? You stopped responding and the time passed so we pulled the switch on the stasis chamber- are you alright? Did he attack you?”

“I-” -you have failed him once but not again not again you will be together- “I need a moment.”

He scrambles away, feet carrying him away from Church Prime, away from the Holy Land, away away away until he’s standing on the Community House roof, staring at his hands at this home, destroyed, this home, rebuilt, this home, empty and wrong and a shadow of house for a shadow of a man, a shadow of a friend found, a friend lost- and sobs.

What had he done?

[simplydm]

So… you guys know how Sam keeps Fran in a box and doesn’t go to his base all that much…. Yeah

It had been a long time since anyone had been here, it looked like. Ponk moved slowly through the high grass. There was a general dullness to the land, like Sam hadn’t even bothered to keep up appearances. There was a chest to the side of the mountain. It still had blood, deeply faded, but still there. Ponk hissed through his teeth, remembering scrabbling with the lid, hardly able to see from the tears and blood that had followed his first death, reaching for the only things that pissed Sam off more then one keycard. The remains of his left arm tingled, urging him away, back to the task at hand. But Ponk opened the chest instead. More dried blood, but nothing else. A relic, just left here.

Ponk tilled the correct spot on the ground, and the redstone door began to grind open. It’s mechanics protested the movement. Ponk stepped inside Sam’s base and sent the door up again. He didn’t move until the final boom, confirming he was safe. He looked around, listening to the silence.

The place looked untouched. Ponk wondered if Sam just slept at the prison. He forced himself to move. His footsteps were loud, like the cracks of a bullet. There was a noise, a wining that he knew immediately.

“Fran?”

Following his ears, he walked down and to a spot in the wall. He mined one block, and there sat the formerly white dog, looking at him.

“Oh my god, Fran!” Ponk mined another block so the dog could get out. “What- how long have you been here?”

Fran didn’t answer, obviously, but taking a quick look inside the room she had been in was evidence enough. There was an automatic food and water dispenser that looked filthy. Fran smelled terrible. Ponk and Fran looked at each other, two beings abused by the man they both loved.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Fran.” Ponk said. He let Fran outside, into the fresh spring air. Fran was ecstatic, running around and barking and rolling in the grass. Ponk watched her with a smile, but there was a pit of horror swirling in his stomach. Fran was everything to Sam, Ponk had thought. So why was she left here to rot?

“Fran! Bath time!” Ponk called, and the white dog came galavanting back over. Ponk brought her to the nearby pond and began to scrub at the dogs fur. He was careful, matriculate. He sang old lullabies to her, and she sat still for a him. A good dog.

It was almost evening by the time Ponk was done. He and Fran were making their way back towards Sam’s house. Ponk was deep in thought- what could he do for Fran now? He didn’t want the poor dog to have to go back in what was essentially a prison. But Ponk didn’t even want to know what Sam would be like if he found out Ponk had moved Fran again.

But, as it turns out, Ponk didn’t have to wait to find out. Sam was standing in front of his redstone door, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Ponk?” Sam’s voice was deep, angry. Ponk stopped dead, trying very hard not to think about that voice coming from behind the glass of a tiny room.

“I could say the same for you.” Ponk mustered up all of his courage to speak angrily back. “Fucking bitch.”

Sam growled, taking Ponk by surprise. Before he could react, Sam had strode forward and grabbed Ponk around the neck. Ponk sputtered, lashing out best he could, but Sam had always been so strong.

“What the fuck are you doing with Fran? Are you here to kill her? I thought I told you not to fucking touch her ever again?” Sam didn’t scream- his voice got lower and lower, dangerous and too fucking familiar.

Ponk gasped in a desperate attempt to breathe, and suddenly there was a loud bark and a shout. Sam’s hand left Ponk, and Ponk fell to the ground. At his feet stood Fran, who was backing away from Sam, growling. Her clean fur shone, still wet from her bath, and she was standing as maliciously as she could.

“Fran, come.” Sam said, regaining his balance. Fran stopped growing, but didn’t move. Ponk scrambled to his knees and put his arms around her neck. “Fran!” Sam called impatiently, pointing to the ground beside him.

“Fran?” Ponk asked softly. Fran turned her face to Ponk’s and licked his cheek.

“Fran, do not disobey your master! Come!” Sam’s voice went up as he spoke, and he trembled with rage and fear. “Fran, you are my dog. I am your master. Come!”

“Some master you are.” Ponk felt a lot more confident when protected by a giant dog. “You left her, Sam! She’s been sitting in your base, trapped behind a fucking wall, for how long? I found her unkempt and miserable, Sam. She’s not your dog- she’s just another prisoner!”

Sam hissed, deep and angry. He strode forward, hand grasping the hilt of his sword. Ponk hid his face in Fran’s fur and his mouth let out a strangled sob without his permission.

Fran barked, moving so her body was completely in front of Ponk’s. Ponk looked up, and Sam was standing there, frozen, looking down at the two of them, sword outstretched. His face was twisted, a mixture of anger and shock. Ponk met his eyes, then looked away, clambering to his feet carefully. The sun was starting to set now. Ponk waited for Sam to say something, but he didn’t.

Ponk turned and began to walk away, back towards lemon valley. Something furry touched his leg, and he was not exactly surprised to see Fran alongside him.

“Fran?” Gone was the anger; Sam sounded close to tears. Ponk turned to him again, and although he was standing in his fully enchanted netherite armor, decked out with weapons and potions, a hulking figure, he looked small and alone. It filled Ponk with a bitter satisfaction, and he turned back around and kept walking, Fran glued to his side.

“I’m sorry, Fran.”

[mxvladdy]

Hi, I love your writings 💜 and wanted to suggest a prompt, but if it won't hit you or if your requests are closed than feel free to ignore.

What if MC will forget the brother and that they are in relationship (it can be as side effect of some spell /potion etc, but it will last for quite some time, no one knows how long). How brothers will react on that? What they will do to make MC fall in love again, or will they do anything at all? Or they decide that it's the chance to change everything? What if MC won't love them again? I don't know if that can be angsty (I want some angst), or you can do whatever style you find appropriate. Anyway, if you don't feel like doing for 7 brothers you can do only for brothers of your choice (who you feel comfortable to write about, but maybe Lucifer, Mammon and Beel?? ).

Thank you! And have a good day or night!

A/N: 80000 years and a day later I post lol ;.;. Sorry for the wait! I tried something new with this, hope you like :)

So I was going to drop all three at the same time but it turned into 20+ pages of work. So I will post in 3 separate parts since they all turned into beefy boys... Much like their counterparts >:)

Hope you like it!!!

Part One of Three: Lucifer

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

The crackle of energy and the acrid taste of sour magic on his tongue are his only warnings before things went south. He reaches for you, strong arms moving to shield you from the blowback of energy discharging around you both. Lucifer crouches, turning his back to the explosion to cover you from the debris and dust raining down. The rebound of the failed spell washes over him for a moment turning his stomach on impact. A heavy miasma coats the room. It weighs down his wings momentarily before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Once the dust settles, the room fills with light-hearted teasing and jabs at the inept caster. Whatever chastising remark he had stuck to his tongue. When he looks down at you the air seizes his lungs in horror. You were heavy and unresponsive in his arms, eyes closed and face slack. Physically, he could see nothing wrong with you, no hair unkempt or dust on your uniform. He shakes you trying in vain to rouse you.

He doesn’t remember fleeing the room with you clutched tight to his chest nor the shouts of his confused brothers all he could focus on was your limp body cradled in his. You weren’t waking up. None of his magic was working, and you were still sleeping. It was like looking down at his brothers all over again. The feeling of dread, of helplessness, had him staggering. You were like his little Lilith all over again, another failure in his unending life span.

The healer's answers do nothing but anger him. Diavolo’s weak speculations drive him into a frenzy. Wait, they want him to wait. For how long was anyone's guess. They say that you just need rest, the human body is unaccustomed to such stresses. That though your body is weak, a human’s spirit is strong. You’ll recover-he had to trust that you would heal on your own. Trust… he had so little of that left to begin with, but he had he gave to you.

He couldn’t lose you. Couldn’t lose this small flicker of hope you brought into his life, of happiness. He didn’t want to be alone again.

So he waits, a permanent sentinel by your bedside. He sits in silence stuck with his sins. His rough hewn palms cover your small hand to warm your cooling finger tips. He strokes them with callused fingers. He contemplates all the little things he could have done differently while he waits. Hells, what he should have done differently. Spells at the best of times were unruly and dangerous and in the hands of a novice? He shakes his head squeezing your hand. He was so stupid to have let you take that course. Why hadn’t he told that weak pissant of a demon off for trying such an incantation? Or at least to take it outside. Was he that bad of a protector? Of a lover? Deep down he wants to be angry at you. That this somehow was all your fault, with your puny human constitution and defenses. He wants to blame you but the moment passes with a gut-twisting sense of guilt and almost shame.

The days move on unceasingly, the clock on your wall mocking him with every steady tick and turn of the hand. With each moon that passes his simmering anger and wounded pride cools to an ice cold fear in his veins. The healers stopped showing up daily, they were at a loss like the rest of them.

No one would say it, least of all around him, but he heard it travel down the halls like an unwelcome guest. The whispered sympathy, the soft admissions of acceptance. He blocks them out, his world narrowing down to nothing but your icy hand and weak pulse. Your room begins to turn into his. His paperwork fills your desk, while he holds meeting over the phone. One hand clutching his phone to his ear and his other always touching you. No one but him is going to take care of you. He refuses help, turning down Diavolo’s increasing offers and pleas of support.

He turns them down each and every time. He will take care of you.

Yet, no matter how much he tends to you and researches you remain inert.

It’s maddening, he was suffocating under the weight. Finally he tips. One night drunk and desperate in his destroyed room he does the last thing he could think of.

The hardwood of his bedroom is unforgiving under his knees. The cold of it soaks through his pants and the harsh grain digs into his skin. But he doesn’t care, he wasn’t looking for absolution anymore, he was begging for your salvation.

It burns him bowing like this. His pride lashes out, roaring like the untamed beast it was as he dives deep searching within himself to find the tattered remains of his former self. Each second with his eyes closed and head bent was tortuous as his pleas fill the oppressive silence of the room. No matter the discomfort of the moment he can only think of you. No cost was too steep to have you open your eyes again.

Lucifer should have known going back to his father would be a mistake. Nothing was ever simple with them, everything was by their rules and their way. Not even being the once most favored son could fix that. Your eyes open, sure. They are hazy with confusion, but also bright and full of life. You were back.

Papers forgotten Lucifer approaches you like he would a wounded animal. He stares in disbelief for a moment before succumbing to his need to hold you. “Amata-” He breathes out in relief into your neck squeezing you closer to him. Lucifer pulls away when he notices you not embracing him back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. You just took me by surprise is all.” You rub your eyes and smile wearily. “What did I do to deserve such a good morning hug?”

His smile fades, hearts sinking. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember?” Hmmm. You look around you at the clutter of your room. “I- remember being in class, then you over me.” Something must have happened, but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. He fills you in leaving small blanks hoping to see some recognition in your bewitching eyes. But you sit, nodding along taking his word as gospel truth. “Wow.” You lean back on your pillows. To be asleep for so long, you had so much work to catch up on. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

There was an odd look in his eyes before he nods, rising to his feet. “Of course… for you, anything.” He flees then, choking back a sea of emotions to go fetch a healer to look you over. It was as he expected. You were whole and healthy again, back to your old wonderful self. Except for him. Did you truly remember none of him? Have you really forgotten how he held you at night when you were able to tear him from his works.

How could you forget the words he would whisper to you as you drifted off long after the candles had been snuffled out, the sweat had cooled on your skin, and your limbs loose and tangled with his? Would you ever remember the way he would watch you at school? How he would search for you and watch you with vigilante and hungry eyes. You were not his little lamb anymore. Even after everything he had lost you.

It was what he bargained for with his father it seemed.

He calls a meeting soon after informing his brothers and the Prince of your condition without telling them of his speculations as to why. “We will say nothing.” He speaks standing rigidly while the room erupts with confusion around him.

“Why not tell them?” Beelzebub asked brows drawn low in concern.

“And say what?” Lucifer rubs at his nose pinching the bridge tightly already feeling a dull throbbing growing underneath. “What would it change?” He leaves it at that and retreats to his room. He looks at his dusty chambers and broken furniture from his explosive temper. It is so cold again without you there. This is how it must be. The thought brings a broken whine from his lips. Tt soaks through his leather gloved hand, refusing to be shoved down. He didn’t want to believe he was so forgettable, that something as intimate as his trust and love was so weak in your soul. He had thought surely he had ingrained himself deeper than that. You were in his mind.

He turns to his private libraries that night, looking for any scrap of information he could find. Perhaps the threads of him were there within you, maybe they just needed to be mended. He often forgot how malleable the human mind was, how easily things can just slip from them. Each book on the topic started promisingly enough before piddling off to a dead-end or debunked hypothesis.

He hunts down the student that had fired the spell. If he knew the original purpose of the spell maybe he could recreate the reaction? No, yet another dead end.

He comes to realize one night sitting hunched over on the grimy floor that either your mixed blood had altered the spell's intentions or the fact that since you were not in your original timeline it had changed something deeper within you that none of them had taken into consideration. Or, perhaps-just maybe he truly did make a deal with Father.

Devil below, he hoped that wasn’t true. How ironic it would be that the first time they had heard his pleas to only answer it with more pain and punishment. Either way, he must accept this...eventually.

“You know, if you keep frowning like that it’ll leave permit winkles.” Lucifer ignores his brother, not glancing up from his journals to entertain him. He had recently found more old tomes deep in his studies. “Luci.” Multi-colored nails block his view of his documents.

“Move Asmodeus. I will not ask again.”

Asmo frowns but moves his hand back to his hip. “You need to breathe brother. Take a minute for yourself.” Lucifer snorts dismissively, flipping to the next page. Asmo sighs deeply, his old bones rattling with the heavy gust of air. “You know you won’t find anything in there. We’ve all tried, you know? Read up on fruitless leads and scoured the depths of the catacombs too. Satan’s hands are a mess from rummaging through his books.” He swallows thickly. “Perhaps it is time.”

“Time for what?” Lucifer rises to his impressive height towering over his smaller brethren. “I do not like what you are implying Sakhr.” Asmo flinches, he hates that damn name. He calms the simmering rage underneath his well kept skin. Lucifer was hurting, he lashes out blindly when he is. He always suffers alone.

“I’m not implying anything. We just want-” Lucifer laughs, the hollow sound pulls at the emptiness within Lust’s heart.

“What would you know of my wants?” His ruby eyes lock with Asmo’s. It was a mistake. Lucifer’s presence was imposing at the best of times, but as mad as he was now it was a knee jerk reaction from Asmo to put his guard up. It was a strong defensive mechanism that Asmo took special care not to let slip, but as Lucifer approaches him shoulder hunching and chest puffing up in anger. It took only a moment for his defenses to take over, eyes locking Lucifer saw exactly what he wanted reflected back at him.

He didn’t know what Lucifer saw but he could see the absolute agony etching into his older brother's glassy eyes with each second. Asmo steps back breaking eye contact with a gasp, the trance between them breaking. “I-I’m sorry!” He trembles.

Lucifer says nothing but raises a shaking finger while he collects himself. Finally, he looks up, face impassive once more. He shakes his head and points to the two chairs in front of his desk. A wordless order that Asmo takes. Asmodeus watches Lucifer busy himself with a decanter, broad back turned to him. “You meant no harm,” Lucifer says, voice tight. He turns back with two glasses in hand. “ I-my aggression was unnecessary.” He offers Asmo a glass before sitting back in his throne-like chair with a grunt. They drink in silence.

Asmo swirls the spicy drink around his tongue thinking hard. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He thought he could make things better by offering a shoulder or ear, perhaps tell Lucifer that you were doing well. You didn't seem to notice the hole at the table or in the classroom where Lucifer used to join you and the rest of them to eat or study. They had missed seeing him look so at peace around them. Everything had reverted back to like it was when you first arrived between the two of you, and it was affecting everyone. “Talk to me?” Lucifer blinks.

“And say what?” He peers at his empty glass before grabbing the decanter. “I’m fine? I have meetings piling up and I frankly don’t give a damn anymore. Or the fact that I have yet to cancel the table I had reserved for our anniversary dinner?” His last words waver dangerously before he burns them away with a large gulp of his drink. He sees the look in Asmo’s honey-colored eyes when he looks up. “I don’t need pity.”

Asmodous sniffs, waving away the thought. “Please. We all know better than that. I just want to check on you, and perhaps give you an idea?”

“What idea could you have that I have not thought of?” He asks curiously. Asmo lights up leaning in.

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way? We’ve been looking at magic to solve this when the answer was in front of us the whole time. Humans aren’t used to magic, so why look to it for the solution?”

“I don’t follow.” Lucifer puts his glass down leaning back in his chair. Was science what he needed to look at? He had tried that, had talked to human doctors and surgeons that owed him “favors”. They were as unhelpful as the rest.

“We are thinking like demons! We have to think like a human, woo them again. You did it once, surely their attraction wasn’t wiped out, just their memories.” Ahh. Lucifer shakes his head. He had thought of that, staring at himself in the mirror. Many nights were filled with the nagging fears of defeat. If his father had a hand in your recovery could he even be allowed to try again? Lucifer looks back at all the things he said those nights kneeling by your side. It was foolish, what even contract he might have accidentally made had too many open ends, too many half wishes, and clauses.

“I’m afraid I have already thought of that my brother.”

“Then why haven’t you tried? Have you given up?” Asmo is met with silence. “Does that mean the rest of us have a chance?” He gets the reaction he was looking for then. Lucifer’s form shutters, a full body twitch as his body blurs around the edges in warning. “Seems to me like you haven’t given up yet. So what is stopping you.”

Lucifer crumbles under his brother’s worried gaze. Perhaps he could divulge his worry, just this once. “I asked father Az.”

Asmo gasps in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief, then dawning realization. “You think They did this?” Lucifer shrugged, running a hand through his disheveled locks. “They wouldn’t-they couldn’t...could they?” None of the brothers knew what their father was up to anymore, nor if They were even still able to track them. It was an ever present cloud of stress over all of them. While they trusted Diavolo and his protection, the nagging fear was never-ending.

“This is perfect!” Asmo claps his hands together. Lucifer stares at him in confusion. Lust’s smile grew toothy and dangerous. “Do you know what this means?”

“No.” His younger brother snorts looking down at his nails. His mind was running a mile a minute. For as organized and crafty as Lucifer is, he sure had his moments.

“Think about it. If Father did meddle then you have to try courting them again. Defying Father is a talent!” Asmo claps his hands in giddy delight. “Wouldn’t it just chafe their linens if you got back together?”

“And what if They didn’t meddle?”

“Then what do you have to lose?” Lucifer laughs. It was breathy and lifeless at the start but grew in intensity as Asmo’s words sunk in. Why was it when he said it it made sense?

“As devious as ever Az.” Lucifer smiles. Yes, he could win you back easily and reclaim his pride all in one fell swoop. “Thank you for reminding me of who I am.” They were troublemakers, the lot of them and it was time for him to prove it once more that he was the worst of them.

He starts the next day dressing down for once in his long life. He wears an outfit you always complement tucked neatly into a pair of dress slacks you bought him after a date gone awry. He smirked, remembering the tight squeeze of your hand on him on the drive home. The friction of your palm on the smooth material...he tipped his dry cleaner extra that night. “Good morning.” He purrs out in greeting taking his seat at the head of the table. The few brothers around the table freeze for a moment, keen eyes darting from him to where you sat still eating as if nothing had changed. Asmodeus shot him a wink.

“Morning.” You chirp back around your spoon. “It’s good to see you back at the table. Finally got a break from work?” The demons hold their collective breath.

“Yes, you can say that I came to a revelation of sorts.” He hums into his mug.

From that point on no matter what corner you turn on Lucifer was there. A pleasant smile on his lips and an offer of aid. “Thank you for the help!” You drop the large stack of books on your desk with a satisfied grunt. “You know- even though our pack is still somewhat new, if you need help with your work I’d be glad to give you a hand too!”

“Would you?” He hides his predatory grin under his hand. “ Some of the matters I have to attend to will require some long, hard work. It may take up some of your nights.” The flush that graces your cheeks and the warm buzz from his pact mark make him giddy.

“I’m willing.”

Slowly he begins to pull you back into his world. He leaves well placed hints of your past together scattered around his workspace. Your favorite Devildom blooms and treats always seem to be around when you come to offer your help in the evening. He slips old pet names into daily conversations as you scribble notes and transcribe letters for him by the soft light of his desk lamp. Pacing himself was never so hard before in his life. Was he finally cracking through? Or were you falling for him again? It was a heady rush to be sure, the mix of anticipation and thrill of such earthly courting made him realize many things he didn’t see the first time around. He learns all over again just what he loved about you.

He had forgotten how patient you were around him and with his siblings. Your keen eye and attention to detail reminded him just why he trusted you. You flitted about him picking up things he missed and settling brotherly disputes without him having to waste his breath. It was almost like things were going back to normal, minus the cold sheets beside him at night. But he sticks to his plan, finding pleasure in simply learning about you all over again.

It came to an end sooner than he had expected.

“Enter.” Lucifer calls from his overflowing desk. It was finals time once again and the damages done to school property were picking up dramatically. He heard your fluttering heartbeat before you even entered his domicile. It picks up as you approach.

“Am I interrupting?

Lucifer looks up from his work, a grin growing on his tired face. “For you, never.” You smile back, coming closer. You held a mug of coffee in your hands. The beast within him wanted to raise its hackles in triumph and howl. His life must be a divine comedy. This night is playing out just like it did nearly a year ago. Did you remember too? Or was this just how it always was meant to be?

“I haven’t seen you in a bit, and got concerned.” You fiddle with the handle of the copper mug. Lucifer nods, it was true. He regrettably had to put his plans with you on hold, he had spent so much time scheming he had let a few things build up. “Asmo told me you were hold up in here working, and I thought you could use a pick me up. He-he helped me make you some coffee.”

Ah. It wasn’t the same as the first time, but it was a matter of time before his sibling started meddling again. He takes the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thank you, this is much appreciated.” You glow under his praise taking a seat by his side.

“Need any help?” You eye the stack of papers with interest. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the fine print.”

“Have you now?” He pushes a small stack of papers towards you. “Very well, I would love your company again.” You take the work with a nod eager to spend time with him again. He watches you work, unable to contain his growing smile before looking down at the cup by his side. The tar-black coffee looks back at him. Oh, how he wished to commend his brother and berate him all at once. It is putrid and stomach-churning but he savors it all the same.

“Is it alright?” You pause watching him drink in. You have never seen him so enraptured by a drink before.

“Yes.” It will be.

[burnedbyshoto]

sensei

— Being a Pro Hero means having a will of steel, too bad for Shinsou that will of steel has one major kryptonite: a schoolgirls skirt. —

pairing: pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, dom!shinsou, bondage (capturing weapon), blindfold, orgasm denial, cursing, praising, mindcontrol, degradation, roleplay

word count: 6,789

a/n: this was a commission!!! omggg!!!! also i used the name mindjack for his pro hero name and neutralizer is your hero name! okay, so like, don’t come for me until you read the entire thing. if I get a single message about what I think ya’ll might come at me for imma spit on your butter. if you cant eat butter then your oat milk or whateva.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Shinsou stood in the kitchen, his Pro-Hero costume on, and his hands pressed onto the countertop. Today was the day that his hero work student was coming in for a small dinner of celebration. After months of conducting some late-night hours and intensive fighting, they had finally taken down an underground crime ring that had been resurfacing in Japan. 

His fingers ran through his hair, the soft locks parting with his calloused fingers. Years of having to strengthen himself to keep up with physically powerful quirk holders had left his body sharp, hard, and rugged. There wasn’t a part of his body that hadn’t been bruised; that wasn’t without its imperfections.

It was almost hilarious to think of where he used to be, a child in high school who was no stronger than the average person in Japan, and where he was now. 

Placing his cup to his lip, Shinsou was about to take a drink of water when a knock was heard. A small grin quipped on his face knowing precisely who it was, placing the cup on the table and shoving his hands into his pocket, Shinsou walked over to the front door and opened it.

Opening the wooden door, his violet gaze locked onto a bright and eager set of eyes.

Outside his door stood a young woman who had just recently eighteen with your hair fluttering in the wind. You wore the well-recognized U.A. uniform, your backpack resting on your shoulders. A smile soon grew on your face at the sight of him, and you tilted your head with a small smile in greeting. 

“Neutralizer,” he greeted with a coy smile, and his body leaned onto the doorway. His eyes drank you in, the swell of your chest against the button up white shirt, the striking red tie, the jacket that remained unbuttoned on your body, the dark socks that reached your knees, and that stupidly short skirt.

“Hi, Mindjack-sensei,” you greeted with a bright smile, unfazed by the coyness of his energy and ignorant to his straying eyes. “You wanted to meet here today?”

He wet his lips and nodded his head, his eyes closing, “Well, I had to celebrate this joyful win with my favorite student, didn’t I?”

“I’m your only student,” you snorted, pushing past him and entering his house.

You didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on your ass when you passed him, nor did you see how he was nearly drunk off your figure when you bent down to exchange your shoes for his guest slippers. 

“I think that speaks volumes on how highly I perceive you,” Shinsou lazily grinned, taking your jacket and backpack and went to put them in his closet. “You’re so great that I don’t need to look for another helping hand.”

“What will you do when I graduate in these next months?” you asked teasingly, your focus back on Shinsou, and you both held each other’s gaze while standing in the hallway. 

“You’re trying to tell me that you won’t accept my offer to be my sidekick before you go pro?”

His gaze was dangerous, practically begging you in this subdued cat and mouse game to contradict his theory.

“Maybe I am.”

His eyes narrowed; to anyone else, they would’ve been daunting, menacing, threatening, but to you who had known him for years, you could see right past the playful glare.

“Watch it, punk.”

With that, you walked further into the household and having never been to his house before, you couldn’t help but point out the different pictures you saw. There was no stopping you on asserting how weird it was that he went to school with so many well-known heroes. U.A. sure was something else.

The conversation between the two of you flowed like water. There was no dull moment while you stood by the counter, mindlessly eating fruit while exchanging lively words. You had since reaching the bar rolled your sleeves up to your elbows while attempting to catch the fruit that Shinsou was now throwing at you, but most often, they continued to bounce off your nose and go flying onto the floor. 

“You’re horrible at this,” Shinsou snorts when you reappear from the floor with the slightly dirty fruit.

“Get a better aim,” you retorted with a snicker, eating the fruit.

But then Shinsou focused in the wrong area. His eyes focused on the way your lips gleamed under the fluorescent lights, coated with what was definitely your saliva and tinted with berry juices. Your lips stunned him with how delicate and soft they looked. How full and sinful they would feel pressed against his lips, wrapped around his—

“Mindjack-sensei?”

His eyes snapped up to meet your eyes that looked curious, naive to his thoughts, and with the slightest hint of embarrassment.

Recomposing himself, Shinsou cleared his throat and leaned against the counter again, the cold marble digging into his hip. “Y/l/n?”

“I was asking why you’re wearing your costume inside your house, it’s a bit dorkish.”

It seemed the embarrassment wasn’t from his drinking of your lips, but instead because of your question. Shinsou’s fingers fisted into the capturing weapon that rested around his neck. Honestly, he had no idea why he did; his costume was definitely a very comfortable piece, and well, he didn’t exactly go out on the field today, so it was clean.

But when he went to answer your question, his eyes saw the way your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip, and the way that you leaned in closer. Such a flustered school girl. How was he supposed to be professional when you did that? The only thing he could see — the only thing he wanted to see — was you gnawing at your lips when he was fucking you to the heavens, your embarrassment keeping you from being as loud as you could be.

“Come here,” Shinsou commanded, his head gesturing to you to move over to his side of the counter.

Obediently, you followed and stepped before him.

Fuck, you were tiny compared to him. Shinsou looked down at you, your eyes stared up at him curiously, unsure of what he was going to say or do.

“What do you think about me?”

Your eyes widened, your tongue coming out to lick your lips nervously. What was that kind of question? You thought he knew exactly what you thought about him? “Well, um, I think you’re an excellent Pro Hero! You’ve taught me a lot in my work-study, and I’ll forever be grateful for you!”

It seemed like an appropriate response, not too harsh, and it wouldn’t be enough to inflate his ego. But it seemed that he wasn’t in agreement with your thoughts, his hand came to rub his stubbled cheeks, and his eyes darkened.

“What else?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine at those words. There was so much intention behind what that could mean. What was he trying to insinuate here?

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

Shinsou took a drink of his water, his eyes still focused on you. His gaze as calculating, as if he was studying a bug under a microscope. Your locked stares were unbreakable and soul searching, and as you were now just growing used to while on the field, a sense of an upcoming battle was flaring on your instincts. Placing the cup down, he took a step forward, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“What do you think of me?”

“I-I already told you,” you stammered, taking the smallest step back, but your didn’t retreat when he took another step closer. “You’re a very good—.”

“Not like that,” he growled lowly, his eyes dropping down to your breasts, to the swell of your hips.

It was becoming increasingly harder to breathe, his musky scent was overwhelming your nose, sending shivers down your spine, and there was nothing you could do but gasp for air.

“I don’t think I understand…”

Shinsou was now entirely parallel to you, your chest nearly touching his while he leaned down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You could no longer breathe, unable to focus or think of anything but the fact that your boss — your mentor — was seemingly admitting that he was attracted to you.

“How do I make you feel?” he nearly panted in your ear. “All I know is that you drive me fucking insane with how beautiful you are, you’re so fucking pure, yet I know you know what you’ve been doing.”

“Mindjack-sensei—!” you squeak, your face radiated heat. You tried to stumble back, to deny his accusations, but his hands were on your waist, keeping you cemented in place.

“Do you want me the way I want you? The way I want to fuck you until your body is forever printed into the mattress of my bed? To have you begging until my bed frame breaks?”

Shinsou grin turned sly at the way you trembled against his hold.

“Don’t you think about fucking me, kitten? Because I can only think about your pretty lips and pussy around my cock. I bet you have such a pretty fucking pussy too.” An audible moan left your lips, and Shinsou’s fingers tightened around your waist to the point he was most likely leaving bruises. He was enjoying the way you were obviously enjoying this too. “You like this? Mm, of course, you would. Such a dirty little kitten, I bet you’re already fucking wet, wanting nothing more than my cock to fuck you into oblivion.”

“Mindjack-sensei,” you gasped in horror of his words despite your body pressing flush against his. His words hadn’t been false, by god did you want him to fuck you into oblivion, but you always pressed those feelings aside because he was a respected authority. He could have just about anyone as a top hero, so why would he want a high school student who worked for him? Shinsou let out a sharp stream of air at the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing boner. “We can’t do this! If we’re caught, we’ll—”

“We can’t do this? On the contrary, I think we can fucking do this. No one has to know, but if you don’t want me the way I want you, that’s okay. Tell me to stop then,” he interrupted you, his fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt, his teeth nibbling at your ear. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me, and I’ll stop.”

Your chest heaved, your body screaming at you to let him fuck you. You’ve wanted him for so long, to have him buried balls deep within you, calling him yours and no one else’s. But your brain — your anxieties — screamed at you that this was wrong because he is your teacher. What if something terrible were to happen because of this?

“Nothing bad will happen,” Shinsou murmured, and you stopped breathing at the way his warm breath fanned against your neck. “I promise.”

You pushed away, your eyes wide while looking up at his violet gaze that seemed to grow impossibly darker. You had been under his mind control before, countless days being spent to see who could use their quirk faster, him or you. Each and every time so far, you had bitterly lost, you knew what it was like to be under control. To have your ability to choose what you wanted to do or not taken away. You knew what it was like to not have free will, but this was not it. 

You could choose.

You would choose.

Gulping, your fingers rose to his soft purple hair, raking through the short purple locks that were ever present in your fantasies and dreams.

“Fuck me then.”

His lips pressed against yours immediately, and your breathing nearly stopped at the immediate contact. The scruff on his cheeks, chin, and jaw tickled the softness of your own skin, and only continued to scratch against your skin when the kiss increased in intensity. His mouth drank you in quickly, the heat of his mouth making you overwhelmingly woozy. The kiss alone was sending throbbing heat to your core, your cunt already feeling slick with your essence just from this kiss that you’ve wanted for so long.

Shinsou then took a step forward, and you took a step back, a dance between these new lovers until your back was slammed against a wall. With the feeling of the cold wall pressing into your back, the knowledge of where this was going shot through you.

“How do you want me to fuck you, kitten?” Shinsou growled against your mouth, pulling away afterward so that his nearly black with lust irises burned into your own. “Tell me your deepest fantasy.”

You wheezed when he lifted you up, the height difference between the two of you was too grand for him to grind his hardened cock into you while merely standing. The growing slick in your panties grazed against his hardness, and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders. Your head lolled backward; the shuddering pleasure from the harsh graze was already overstimulating you. His mouth latched onto your exposed neck, pressing spicy-sweet kisses onto the soft skin, his hips pressing hardened circles into your growing heat. 

“I want you to,” you swallowed, your mouth running dry from his actions, mind unable to keep up with his pleasure gaining effects. 

“What do you want, kitten?” he growled against your growing slick neck. His fingers were kneading and pulling at your covered breasts, someone how managed to press onto your nipples despite not knowing your naked body. Fisting your hands into his hair, you tugged hard at the roots, the pleasure shooting through your body unignorable. 

“I want you to use your capturing weapon on me,” you plead, your hips jerking against his in frantic attempt to get this going. “I want you to blindfold me — fuck, I want you to use your quirk on me, deny me, overstimulate me, I don’t care. I just want your cock in my pussy.”

“My, my, you’ve been thinking about this for a while now, haven’t you?” Shinsou grinned with a burst of barking laughter at your embarrassment of being caught. “How many times have you thought about me bending you over in the middle of an alleyway, right after a successful mission, fucking you as congratulations?”

“S-Shinsou—!” you whimpered at the way his hips were now embedding into you as if you two weren’t fully clothed, but already fucking like savage animals.

“I want to hear you call me sensei when I’m fucking you,” he grunts against your throat.

“Not daddy?” you squeak when he pulls away from the wall, and your arms wrap around his neck in precaution. His hard cock now presses deliciously against your heated core, the movement of his walking legs adding to the slow and imbued sensations running their course through your body.

“Maybe another day,” he chuckled deep within his throat.

You felt a chill run through your spine at the way he possessively grabbed onto your waist, his body leaning down to press your back against the soft mattress of his bed. His lips were so ardent against your skin. The body heat expelling from his person, making you sweat when his lips dominated you again.

Your lips glided over each other, your fingers fisting into his shirt with undeniable electricity pouring down your spine. Powerful and sharp pulses slamming through your body when he ground his hips down onto you. 

“Sensei,” you whimpered when his needy lips pressed once more against your cold neck. The contradicting temperatures quickly spun your head, and your eyes clenched closed, trying to focus in on these exhilarating sensations. “Please, sensei do— oh my god.”

Shinsou’s hips were grinding insistently into your, his fingers now pressing into your clit above your panties, expertly rubbing figure eights into your puffy bundle of nerves. Your legs trembled around his waist, your head flying backward with the beating of your heart heavy between your thighs.

“Do what, kitten?” he asked, his teeth marking purple ringed bruises onto your collarbone, enjoying the angry warm colors appearing on your skin. “Is your sensei making you feel good? What do you want from me right now, use your words? Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

The last bit is no louder than a mere whisper, but it’s loud in your ears. You hadn’t even stripped yet, and he had these opinions on you! The intensity of that piece of knowledge made your knees weak with the thought of how intense his own emotions were — for how long has he wanted you in the same way you wanted him? Your mouth opened with a chill running down your spine, your hips grinding down onto his circling fingers.

“Now, I don’t like being disrespected,” he warned, his finger stilling against your clit. You, however, were already consumed by the pleasure that throbbed deep in your core over his nimble fingers teasingly touching where you wanted him most. Your hips still roll against his stiff appendages, and he chuckles at the almost needy and pathetic whimpers that expel from your lips. Your eyes are again shut, mouth opened, and body begging for more.

“Stop grinding,” he commands, his left hand pressing onto your hip, stilling any and all actions from you. You groaned loudly, disappointment and disapproval profoundly evident on your face when you finally opened your eyes.

“Sensei—” you whined, but your hips stopped nonetheless, a pout on your lips. 

“I want you right now,” he says quietly, but his words are firm, unwavering, and genuine. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs, making you jerk with horny anticipation until you felt like taking in charge of him. “Can I fuck you right now, kitten?”

The words almost knock the wind out of you, the innocent yet well-knowing tone on his tongue enough to make you bite down on your lip harshly while you nodded. “Fuck me right now.”

Shinsou lips stretched into a cunning smirk, his teeth capturing his mouth while he nodded, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Sitting up, your eyes took in his body that was hidden under his baggy clothes, much like his own mentor. You did nothing to conceal the way your teeth tugged at your lower lip in lustful need, and your hand pressed down onto the restrained bulge in his pants, grinning when he twitched under your hot hand. 

“I want sensei to fuck me, to fill me with his cock and cum until no one can deny that I’m yours, sensei,” you mewled in his ear.

Without a second thought or a moment to realize what was happening, your shirt was ripped off your person, the buttons scattering loudly against the wooden floor. You shouted in complete shock when Shinsou tugged the red tie off your neck and tossed it on the corner of the bed, and your skirt was thrown to the floor. You lay on the bed exposed in just your undergarments, but they were more than only your regular garments. Shinsou’s eyebrow quirked up upon recognizing that the piece you were wearing was lingerie — expensive lingerie at that.

His eyes met yours, and your eyes swam with confidence that made him stop.

“Were you expecting this?” he asked softly, his fingers grabbing onto the bridge of your bra. His touch so gentle, so soft, it was almost as if he touched it for too long he would destroy the lace fabric of your lingerie.

“It’s hard not to be extra prepared when celebrating with sensei,” you fluttered your eyelashes as you shifted so that you were now straddling his hips. Your body was pressed firmly against his, your mouth ghosting the shell of his ear, “Especially when I want my sensei to fuck me until I’m only his.”

The small victory you gained from being able to distract the Pro Hero was soon snuffed out when cold, and steel-like cloth wrapped all over your legs and arms and slipped between your teeth. The world spun when your face and chest was then shoved into the mattress.

“See what you make me do to you, kitten?”

You whimpered loudly at the arched position you were contorted into. Despite your discomfort, your core ached in need, flaring with this dominative aura that burned to life within him. This is what you had been craving since the beginning, you wanted nothing more than for the purple-haired hero to bend you to his will, to make you no better than some damn puppet while he fucked you deep into his bed.

“Look at you, you’re fucking soaked, and I haven’t done so much as grazing your clit!” Shinsou chuckles, leaning closer to you until you could feel his warm breath fanning against your clenching wet hole. “You’re such a dirty kitten, wanting your sensei’s cock. I guess your sensei is going to have to teach you a few things about mannerisms and make sure you’re fucked to completion.”

You chocked against the cloth in your mouth; it was pressing harshly against your tongue, riling your gag reflexes until saliva poured from your mouth. You weakly looked at Shinsou, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire, your pussy clenching in its attempt to draw him nearer. This was so dirty though, he was older than you, he was your mentor — your sensei. You shouldn’t be letting him talk to you this way, letting him tease your soaked folds, but you wanted his cock — you needed your sensei’s cock to ruin you for anyone ever again. 

Shinsou looked at you, his eyes glinting dangerously as if he could read your filthy thoughts while his fingers slid off the black panties until they bunched at your angled knees. Your arch deepens at the feeling of the cold air now reaching your blazing core, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you wantonly whine. The restraints on your wrists and ankles were tight, sending just the minutest bit of discomfort through your nerves to send you wiggling your ass impatiently.

But as you stared up at Shinsou, and the way his coarse fingers dug into your hips. His heated fingers dragged against your smooth skin until he caught you staring. “You don’t need to be looking at this, kitten.”

The binding left your mouth and wrapped around your eyes. The cold and wet with your saliva metal binding to your face caused a sensation to course through you that was foreign. It disgusted you on a shallow level but fueled the gagging moan that pressed in your throat.

“Sensei!” you squeaked, not expecting this to happen so soon. Especially with the fact that your body was ultimately under his domination. 

Your lack of sight immediately sent all your other senses to one hundred, and you were acutely aware of the fact that he was no longer touching you. You knew he was in the room, but you couldn’t sense him. You only knew that your ass was perked into the air, your arms shot before you in a position that you never knew you could achieve without weight to shove your chest further down.

Shinsou, however, was behind you, his eyes focused on your shining heated slick cunt. A groan emits slowly from his mouth, and he almost relishes in the way that you twitch towards him, the blindfold doing precisely what he had hoped for. Rumbling lowly in his chest, Shinsou inserted two nimble fingers into your wet cunt, moaning at the way that your walls are tight against him. It was so lewdish in the way that your walls were already milking his fingers, begging for more despite the initial entrance.

Your legs trembled, and your mouth fell at the feeling of his foreign fingers entering your spasming cunt. It’s a feeling you immediately burn into your skin. You want this; you crave this. His fingers reach knuckle deep against your heated walls, and they clench around him whenever he attempts to move.

“Your pussy is so pretty and so fucking tight, and all I have in you is my fingers,” Shinsou groans, his fingers curling smoothly within you. Your hips snap backward, trying to fuck yourself against his appendages, desperate the elevated pleasure felt as his fingers moved against you. Desire soaks your body, and you thrust your hips against his fingers, uncaring about how needy this looked.

His fingers were buried in your cunt, and you whined loudly at the feeling of his fingers pushing and pressing against your velvet walls. The feeling of his fingers stroking your walls, sending your body thrusting forward and backward. They continue this pace, not slow enough to be teasing, but not quick enough to satisfy your needs.

“Don’t tease me, sensei,” you pant, your ass moving and wiggling in the air while he manipulated your body under his ministrations. “I want you to — please, fuck my pussy so good!”

There was no response to your pleading, only action. His fingers then hooked within you, scissoring, and even pressing against your walls until nothing was coming out of you except the squelching noises of his fingers digging deeper into your cunt. His hero name a mantra on your lips. 

“Such a pretty little kitten, taking my fingers so well. I can’t wait to see how you’ll react against my cock. I bet your cries will be fucking cute to hear,” he chuckled, his thighs hugging against yours, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your lower belly. You whimpered loudly at the sensation, craving nothing more than to have his cock buried deep within you instead of his fingers.

“Sensei, please!” you begged, the feeling of him all over you. Yet the denial of both seeing him and having his cock buried deep within you was too much. “I don’t want sensei’s fingers, I want sensei’s cock — fuck, please!”

Shinsou chuckled, his fingers left your cunt, and you whimpered at the way your body felt so cold and empty without him buried within you.

“You’ve been good so far, I think you deserve my cock,” he grinned, his breathing heavy and hot against your spine. Your back arched and your body trembled with excitement and nerves as he guided his cock against your wet slit.

Then his hips pressed forward, only the tip of his head pushing through your folds. Teasing you, tormenting you with this half fullness when you knew his cock was much bigger.

“Stop playing unfairly, sensei!” you squawk, your hips trying to slam back to take him more in, but he predicts it and moves back with you. More of his cock leaves you, and you cry in blatant need and horrid horniness. 

“Don’t you have any embarrassment?” he chuckles, his hands finally removing the bra on your chest, and his fingers grip and pull at your nipples. You shudder against his hold, curse that he was so much bigger than you. You needed more of his cock, but he didn’t seem willing to give it to you. “A schoolgirl asking her sensei to fuck her silly, do you know what you’re doing to me, kitten? So fucking dirty, so fucking needy. You want my goddamn dick, you better admit that you’re a stupid little girl who wants her sensei for the rest of her fucking life.”

There was nothing but pure electric shivers that poured through your body at those words, and still, you needed him. Your mouth let out a strained whimper; the slightly circling of his fat cock buried an inch into your cunt, a reminder that you needed to get him fully within you.

“I’m a dirty stupid fucking little girl who wants my sensei and his fucking cock for the rest of my fucking life,” you parrot with no shame, your hips bouncing in hopes of engaging him. “I only want my sensei!”

“Such a good kitten, saying such pretty things,” he sighs, but still, he doesn’t penetrate you fully. 

But he does begin to move.

It’s teasing and by every means maddening feeling the first three inches of his swollen dick push into you and exit. The feeling of the veins on his cock dragging against your sensitive walls made you stammer his name. But that wasn’t good enough, no Shinsou wanted you to howl his name to the heavens, to make sure that everyone knew what a good sensei he was.

His hips move in faster to meet the back of your thighs. With the slowly deepening penetration, your eyes lull to the back of your head, your tongue pooling from your mouth.

“Say more pretty things, or I’ll take my fucking cock away,” he growled, his fingers digging impossibly deeper into your waist.

“Sensei!” you squirm, your back arching like a cat the second the tip of his cock drags against your particular spot.

“What did I say about not following what I command!”

You splutter, your body thrashing against his stilling hips, “But sensei’s cock! It makes me so dumb!” you whine, your fingers digging into the mattress when he slowly starts again. “It’s so big, so thick in my tight pussy! Sensei, please defile me, please make me cum! Cum in my pussy, please! I need you, sensei!”

Those must have been some magic words because Shinsou snarled, and his hips hammered into you. Sending your arms sprawling, your scream of pleasure and glee dripping from your throat. The way that his cock is now brushing over your g-spot again and again was too much.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Your pussy is so fucking tight,” he gasped, his hands slamming your ass back against him. The slapping of your skin on his pelvis sends your eyes fluttering behind the blindfold. He was contorting your body to his will. “After today, I’ll make sure you’ll always be able to take me, all of me, no matter how wet you are.”

Your voluptuous moans are untamable, your thighs trembling with the upcoming orgasm that you can feel throbbing from your toes.

“I needa cum!” you sob, hoping that with how he was drilling against your g-spot, it would be soon.

“You don’t get to cum yet.”

You cried when he pulled out of you completely, and the capturing weapon wrapped around your waist, and you were suddenly pulled to your knees. You heard a familiar sound of a body dropping to the bed, and his hands replaced the fabric around your waist.

“You’re going to ride your sensei’s cock,” he instructed, pulling you down towards him so that your dripping wet cunt was once against grinding against the tip of his dick. “Show sensei what a good kitten you’ve been, what a great hero you’ve become because of me.”

You swallow thickly, your mind swimming with lust and need while his swollen cock twitches at your entrance, “I’m going to show sensei that he’s taught me well.”

“Damn right, you will.”

And with that, he lowered you.

While the blindfold around your eyes obstructed your vision, your sight was wholly taken away from you by his actions. When Shinsou guided you onto his cock, the feeling of his thick veiny length reentering your cunt that begged for his return nearly took your sight away. He wasn’t even within you yet, only the tip of his cock penetrating your slit once more, teasing your walls that clenched in desperation for him. “Don’t tease me, sensei,” you pant, the capturing weapon preventing you from lowering yourself fully onto him, but surprisingly, he does as you hope for. 

Then, what you’ve wanted this entire time. His hips thrust forward at the same moment that you’re dropped onto his cock, and your jaw splits into a soundless scream.

“SHINSOU!” you scream, and his fingers that have your dried slick are placed into your mouth.

“Suck.”

Without arguing, your mouth clamps around his fingers and sucks your essence clean from his fingers. He holds you from behind, his free hand meshing and tweaking at your breasts, making sure to tease and pull at your sensitive nipples until your legs were shaking underneath you. 

His hand rips from your mouth, a trail of saliva following after his mouth. You can only cry louder, more wantonly of how the cold saliva dribbles onto your overheating body. Your head slams back against him, and his hot breath fans against your collarbone while the capturing weapon still proceeds to make you bounce against his cock. Every bounce sends his cock deeper within your clamping cunt, stretching you out in unimaginable ways until your walls spasming around his length because you need more.

You whine into his ear, your mouth pressing blind and sloppy kisses against his slick with sweat neck.

It’s when both his hands bring your hips down to him, his cock finally bottoming out entirely within you, does the most primal moan rip through your mouth. You convulse on his lap, trying to move as the head of his cock buries against your cervix, and you swear behind the blackness of your vision, you can see the entire galaxy. You tremble on top of him, wordless cries pittering from your mouth while he nibbles onto your earlobe.

“Fuck, kitten, I can feel your cervix against my cock,” Shinsou grunts, and you rise and falls against his throbbing cock. 

“You’re filling me out, sensei,” you cry, your hips bouncing up and down, the feeling of his cock pressing up against your cervix, making you dizzier by the second. “Sensei’s cock is so fucking big, he’s filling and stretching me out so much! My pussy can’t — fuck — I can’t take it, sensei!”

“You can take it,” Shinsou growls into your neck, his hands rising you up and down against his cock. The soft slapping of your ass meeting his thighs a drum in your ear. “You’re taking my cock so fucking well, I taught you — I’m teaching you better, I know you can do this kitten.”

You soon readjust to the numbing pleasure, the bruising pleasure, and pain that comes with his cock slamming against your cervix. The way that he thrusts up into you, stretching out your walls far more than you was ever used to.

“I can’t fuck you correctly like this,” he growled, and the restraints yanked you forward once more.

You yelped loudly when you were now on your back, your ankles by your wrists, and your cunt exposed to him completely. In seconds flat, he was buried back into you, but the angle of being on your back aided to the curve of his cock, and your spine nearly snapped in the way you reacted to the pleasure spasming in your toes. This was what you wanted. “Sensei, your cock! SHIT! Oh my god, oh my god, this angle—!”

Your voice lessened to a senseless babble, your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress and drool pooled from your lips. You feel his hot and robust shoulder touch against the backside of your thighs. With your thighs to support him, he begins to drill his hips into you.

His pace is completely irreplicable, every maddening powerful thrust of his hips shoves you closer to the headboard. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving purple fingerprints on your soft skin, and it amplified your howls of pleasure. 

Fire erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Deepening. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in large heat, and you swear that your sweat evaporates with every slam of his hips. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your salvia is everywhere, covering both of their faces with the sticky coldness. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

Her walls fluttered and clamped around him, a constant reminder of the impending orgasm that you could no longer warn him about.

“Do you need to cum?” he huffs against the corner of your mouth, his hips continuing to drill dangerously fast and deep into you.

“Y-Yes, sensei, I needa come so badly! Let me come against sensei big cock, please!” you sobbed, your body trying to press even closer to him. It was at that moment, the revelation that you were close that his quirk washes over you. 

It’s a weird feeling, your body continues to feel disgustingly on fire, like an illness burning you from the inside out. But you’re no longer in control, your mind fuzzy and muggy, but he continues to fuck you as if you weren’t there. The coil that had wound so tightly in the core of your uterus seemed frozen. No longer tightening to the point of snapping, but so tight that it pained you that he now denied you a release.

“Well, I’m not ready,” he pants, “you don’t cum until I do.”

His hips now work against you with untapped vigor he had not been using before. One hand holding your leg over his shoulder, the other keeping your hips in place as he continued to push his cock deep within you. Your body was by all terms relaxed, not a single muscle was tense while he drilled into you, his fingers massaging your clit and nipples. But your mind was alert, thoroughly overworked, over thrilled, and feeling like you were moments from exploding with no choice but to keep it in. 

His sweat dripped onto your body, and your drool slowly slipped from your lips. 

It pained you not to moan, the inability to move your hips against his rutting ones nearly driving you insane until he was snarling like a savage beast, and with his teeth buried into your neck, you only heard one thing before your vision turned white.

“Cum.”

You weren’t sure whether you broke free from his quirk because he let you go or because the orgasm that crashed through you sent your body snapping up and rolling them over so that Shinsou was on his back. But the orgasm was still ripping through you. Powerful waves of insane pleasure drumming deep within you until there was nothing left but that hollowness that came after an orgasm.

Your breathing was erratic, your heartbeat on your tongue while you looked down at him with a frazzled expression.

“Holy fuck, ‘toshi,” you gasped, your hands pulling away at the tie from your eyes, and now you held onto your breasts. Your brain must have short-circuited because nothing was running through your mind, no matter what you tried to think about. 

“Look at that,” he mused, looking down at his lower abdomen. You followed his eyes, and a blush brightened your face at the clear liquid that coated his abs. 

You had squirted.

“Well, that was fucking hot, I don’t blame ya,” he chuckles, bringing you in. “How are you feeling? I know I was pretty deep in you, sorry.”

You sighed, nestling into his chest, finally relaxed. It took a bit of willpower to ignore the slick wetness that came with your mixed cum sprayed out onto his lower stomach. His lips pressed against your temple, and you sighed wistfully, tiredly.

“I’m fine, ‘toshi,” you affirm, grinning at him. “I might have problems walking tomorrow, so you’ll just needa help me.” 

He chuckles but nods in agreement. Tapping you on your waist, he rolls you over so that you’re relaxing on the bed, and he pulls out, and you groan at the lack of his dick in you. Waving off your protests, he leaves and reappears with a damp washcloth. Without speaking, he begins to gently clean you up, placing tender and scratchy kisses against your body.

You grin when your husband finally collapses back onto the bed and pulls you in close, his nose rubbing against your bruised collarbones, eliciting a sharp squeal from you.

“Maybe I’ll pull out my old schoolgirl skirt more often,” you giggle, and he hummed in agreement. “It was fun.”

“I think that would be perfect.”

“Happy anniversary, sensei.”

“Happy anniversary, kitten.”

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Things You Said When You Were Scared- Prompt Fill

Bit of an au after the worm attack. Jon is having a rough time.

CWs injury (canon typical worm related), paranoia, exhaustion. nausea, vomiting (it's not gross, I promise), pain, dizziness, fainting, medication mention, canon typical quarantine mention, food mention.

@janekfan @sukurarose92

Jon can’t remember the last time he felt this terrible.  There probably had been other times.  A few terrible flus over the years, and getting almost eaten by a spider once upon a time…. but time has a tendency to dull the particularly bad stuff, aside from say, flashbacks and nightmares.  But it’s the brain protecting itself.  You don’t remember the pain.  You don’t remember the fear.  You remember the memory of the pain, wrapped in spun-sugar-strands of time, growing dusty on a shelf.  You remember the taste of fear, the gripping anxiety of it.  You remember surges of it in the depths of the night and you panic… but you can’t remember it all the time.  That just isn’t how the brain works.  

Which is irrelevant.  All irrelevant, because the pain medication he’s been given is wearing off.  He thinks Sasha and Tim went off to do something….?  Probably panic together about the fresh worm trauma.  Martin?  Jon hasn’t the foggiest clue.  

Possibly because he’s hazy with pain and the last of the drugs that have been keeping him going this long.  Staggering into the walls as he tries to exit the institute.  Eyes closing involuntarily against the pain and the exhaustion.  Limbs feeling so alien between the bandages and the aching, weeping holes they hide beneath them.  Pounding dizziness down to his core.  

He aches.  

Phantom itching-crawling-squirming on his skin, through his muscles, down to the bone.  The actual holes chewed into him.  

He isn’t sure how he’s going to get to his flat.  He can’t stay in the Archives, not with the police in the tunnels and the ECDC still doing whatever it is they are doing.  But the thought of taking a cab or the tube make him want to tear his remaining skin off.  Makes him want to just lie down on the sidewalk.  

He even thinks making it to the front doors will end him.  

He’s dizzy and sick and his limbs won’t carry him.  

He has to sit down on the first step outside the door, sticking his head between his knees.  He can’t do this.  He can’t.  He’s just going to sit here all night, or risk passing out or throwing up or risking any other horror of the late twilight consuming him before he can collapse into unconsciousness in the comfort of his own bed.  

He waits for the world to stop spinning, and tries not to cry.  

Because he can’t have more pain medication until he eats something.  He can’t eat anything because it won’t stay in him, and even if it would, he can’t go anywhere.  He’s stuck.  Less than a five minute walk from his office where Gertrude DIED, from where he was attacked where he thought he’d be Safe, where he thought Martin would be safe.  A few paces from where the dead worms were pulled out of him and he was scoured raw and sterile in a hastily assembled quarantine on the sidewalk.  

He tries not to spiral into a panic attack right here.  

Trying to pull his breathing under control, because it isn’t helping his tenuous grasp on the directions of up and down.  

Where is the next danger going to come from?  

Is this when Mr. Spider will strike?  Letting him go until he’s weak and exposed and alone?  

Or is this where some unknown (or known) hostile comes in with a grand betrayal and a gun.  Leaving him to be another mystery, or a willfully ignored casualty of something he can’t begin to understand?  

“Jon?”  

Jon jumps.  And very, very much regrets it.  Heart racing, head spinning, a fresh hurt.  A fresh reminder of every opening in his flesh that doesn’t belong there.  “Ma… Martin?”  He asks around gasping and shuddering breaths.  “What …are you doing here?”  

His voice is a little distant, a little hallow.  “Don’t really have anywhere to do, do I?  You packed up my flat.  All in boxes at some storage unit.  Now, my bedroom is tangentially part of a crime scene.”

“…Right.”  It’s all his fault.  

He needs to sleep.  He needs some painkillers.  He might need to throw up, but that is an issue he plans to avoid, if at all possible.  Ditto to fainting.  Although that seems a little more inevitable.  

Martin makes no move to continue speaking.  “So… your plan was to just camp out on this bench?”  

Martin shrugs.  “Dunno.  Figured I might call Tim?  At some point?  Or try to sneak back into the Archives once the police leave?  Can’t really afford a hotel.   Maybe just sleep on this bench.  Try to decompress or something.  Jon.   Why are you still here?   Said you’d go home hours ago.”

Well he can’t exactly tell Martin he’d passed out in the break room for some indeterminate measure of time, then spent another eternity getting sick in the toilets.  And then possibly passed out again.  That’s not just something you tell Martin and expect him not to fuss over you.   And Jon tries to tell himself that that would be suffocating and not kind of welcome right now.   He tells himself that the thought of spending more time with Martin brings discomfort, and irritation, and fear.  It’s not like he can prove that Martin won’t kill him.  But he’s too tired to think about that.  He just wants to sleep.  

“....Um?”

Martin looks at him, probably for the first time.  “Jesus, Jon.  You look terrible.”

Jon hmmms in agreement.  Not like he can argue.  Martin’s too nice to comment on the bandages.  A little too tactful.  Right?  Martin’s bumbling and stupid, but he’s tactful.  He’s Nice.  As irritating as he can be, he’s just so Nice.  

But, it’s not like he can argue.  He’s covered in bandages and a clammy sweat and he’s halfway into a panic attack and he can’t really walk and he just wants to lay down right here until the world stops moving.  Both in the sense that he’s dizzy and in the sense that things beyond his comprehension are happening at a pace he can’t begin to catch up with.  

“Can I... call you a cab?   Or... or something?”   

Jon shakes his head as much as he dares, which isn’t much.  No cabs.  He gets carsick.  He doesn’t stand a chance.  

“Well you can’t just sit there all night.”  

“Right, like you plan to?”  

Martin looks away.  

And Jon goes back to trying not to pass out.  

“Tim lives close by, doesn’t he, I walk you there?  Or… um… carry you?”  Martin’s trying to be tactful.  Jon is pretty sure that is supposed to be a pointed look at his legs.  

Jon scowls.  (Not that Martin is wrong.  There is something very wrong with his knee.)  

“Can’t just …intrude like that.  I’m sure he doesn’t want me around.  Not professional…”

“Jon, you saw him in his pants today.  You were put in quarantine together.  I think you’re past all normal working relationship boundaries, even if he wasn’t your friend.  I can’t just leave you here, and you clearly aren’t planning to get yourself home.  Besides… maybe if he takes you in… maybe he’ll take me in, too.”  

Jon stares down at the sidewalk, drifting in lazy, nauseous, out of focus movements before his eyes.  “He doesn’t want me around.  Not after taking Sasha’s job.  Not after making him stay to get his statement.”  Jon whispers at the pavement.  

“Yeah like he’s still jealous for Sash, after that creepy worm lady went specifically for the “Archivist.”  Whatever the fuck that means.  And you know Tim was only pissed because he was in pain and tired, like you are now!”  

“I should just go home…”  

“Yeah, but you won’t.”  

Christ Martin’s stubborn.  

“Now.  Can you walk, or do I need to cary you?”  

Jon tries pull himself up to prove a point, but he comes to in Martin’s arms a few moments later, Martin loudly cursing at him.  He’s in too much pain to really hear what Martin is trying to say to him.  And he’s feeling even more sick.  And he wonders where his prescriptions and paramedic provided cane have gotten to, but he really doesn’t really care, because Martin is solid and warm and he’s so tired.  

He wakes up again on Tim’s couch.  Sick to his stomach from the oppressive oder of takeout.  

“Woah, boss.  Not on the couch.  I’ve got you.”

Throwing up nothing into the bin that’s been hastily shoved in front of him even though he’s got nothing in him anymore.  He sobs around dry heaves until it’s just the silence juddering sobs.  He Hurts.  

He wants to hide.  From Martin who is making tea, from Sasha running a bandaged hand through his hair.  From Tim supporting the bin, and Jon himself.  

He curls in on himself.  Wills himself into unconsciousness, but the injuries pulse with each uneven breath, stomach still roiling painfully.  He needs more medicine, but he can’t think about hoping to keep it down.  

He sobs against Tim, as the bin is pried away.  

“‘Hurts.  Tim ‘m scared.”  

Scooped up.  Held, gently.  

“Why didn’t you head home?  Why not go right away so you could get toast and water into you, and sleep until you could take some more meds?”  Tim holding him.  Martin awkwardly sat by his side with ginger tea.  Which Jon doesn’t care for, but Tim hasn’t kept mint tea since Jon stopped visiting.  Still… it should help.  Sasha clearing away the food smells, bless her.  “Why did you have to take our statements?  I would have invited you back here, if you didn’t?”

That last question doesn’t help.  

He doesn’t know he’s tearing at the bandages until Tim’s tugging his hands away, and Martin is bemoaning the splotches of blood now decorating the bandages that are quickly becoming sweaty and grimy.  Couldn’t even stay clean after he was scrubbed sterile.  Martin and Sasha and Tim are spotless and scoured.  

“I… I don’t want to disappear.  I… do-don’t want to be found in the tunnels.  I don’t want to vanish without a trace, I…“  He doesn’t even know.  He can’t breathe.  He’s lightheaded.  He Hurts.  

“Hey… hey hey.  It’s.. it’s okay to be scared.  Why don’t we get you cleaned up, okay?  Then see if we can get some saltines and tea into you so you can get some meds, eh?  Then we’re gonna all get some sleep.”  

“I don’t want to lose you…”  Jon’s voice swallowed by Tim scooping him up.  Martin hovering with the bin and Jon’s bag of medical supplies.  

Sasha’s back by then, brushing back Jon’s curls.  “And you won’t.  Sooner you leave, the sooner we can all get some sleep, alright?”  

Jon closes his eyes, and nods, letting Tim carry him to the washroom.  

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to the owner

A/N: Woop wooop! Helloooo my lovely peoples!! 🌸 yes I am wayyy overly excited because this part just came out so effortlessly so I am hyper af 💃💃 I am very happy to welcome you to part three, and while it may seem a little lacklustre, it’s the lead up to the final part which will be show stopping material and I hope you’ll agree 🤗 you have all been so nice and absolutely amazing about this fic and I appreciate it so much I can’t wait to bring you part four 🥰🥰🥰 but let me shut up and get to it. Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

P.S: Y/N/N = your nickname

Summary: Fantasies are shattered and dreams come true as Y/N navigates her way through this messy love triangle...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, alcohol

PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

“What can I get ya?” You shout to the burly man on the other side of the bar.

“Two whiskeys and a pint of beer love!”

The buzz of the crowd continues to drown out your voice, which not only made your job unnecessarily hard, but also provided a little tune for the tiny men occupying your skull to hammer away to, so it turns out.

Little hairs lining your throat were long since singed and a dull ache seeps through the bones in your feet as you set about preparing the next round of drinks.

Quickly scanning the area to your left, a smile spreads across your face when you land on the pair of ice blue eyes you were after, his cheeky wink inspiring a new burst of energy in your overworked muscles.

That smile drops as quickly as it spreads; the once friendly and loving gaze of your best friend now replaced with a cold glare.

In the weeks that had followed your last encounter John hadn’t been near or by the house, and every time you had a shift at the Garrison he was conveniently held up elsewhere. It was the longest you’d ever gone without speaking to him and it was safe to say you couldn’t take much more.

One of these days you’d have your old Johnny back, you thought.

One of these days...

“Where’ve all the glasses gone?”

“Out there.”

Harry’s thumb jerks in the direction of the ever growing crowd, earning an all too familiar groan in response.

‘Get a job you said... it’ll be fun you said... it’s just pulling pints!’

You disappear into the sea of people grumbling to yourself, only managing to grab four empty pints before you begin to carve a route back. Your struggle - along with your mood - was only to be made worse as you near two men in the midst of an argument, the stench of beer and stale cigarettes rudely invading your senses.

“Excuse me!”

“What yerr shaying about me wife” the large man slurs, entirely oblivious to your presence behind him.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

“Excuse m-”

You watch, frozen in horror, as his fist connects with the second man’s jaw, sending the large brute hurtling into you.

Crashing to the ground, a pained scream tears from your throat.

Tommy - who was engrossed in a conversation with his two brothers - hadn’t witnessed you get hurt, but he definitely heard it.

He shoves his way through the crowd until he is met with your body hunched over, quietly whimpering as you attempt to dislodge shards of glass from your right palm. His eyes follow the steady stream of blood trickling down your arm and any facade he held about your relationship quickly fades away.

“You’ve hurt my girl.”

He rounds on the man responsible, nostrils flaring and lips snarling as he reaches for the deadly cap atop his head.

Despite being a good foot taller, the stranger shrinks away, vigorously shaking his head as he rushes to apologise.

“I’m so-sorry Tom real sorry. It- it was an accident I didn’t know she was y-yours ho-honest!”

“I suggest you leave.” Tommy spits out. “That goes for everyone. Leave, now!”

The once jolly punters trip over themselves to squeeze through the narrow doors. Within a matter of minutes the pub is empty and Tommy is crouched at your side inspecting the cuts.

John remains in his seat, jaw set and knuckles white, as Tommy scoops you up and disappears into the office.

He carefully lowers you onto the desk; a warm kiss lingering on your forehead as he’s tending to your injuries.

“You’re okay Princess” he mumbles wrapping a bandage around your hand. Whether he was reassuring you or himself you weren’t quite sure. But thoughts of any kind are banished from your mind as he draws you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and salty as they move against yours. It was slow and it was sweet. It was the kind of kiss that called every hair to attention; the kind of kiss that replays in your mind as you drift to sleep.

Without warning Tommy is ripped away from you, an involuntary yelp slipping out at the sudden loss of contact. Brain scrambling to make sense of it all you soon zone in on John’s forearm tight against Tommy’s throat pinning him to the wall.

“You bastard! I warned you- I warned you to stay away from her! She’s not one of your little whores you can pick up and fuck off when you get bored. I fucking told you to stay away!”

“What do you mean, you warned him?”

The quietness that followed easily could’ve been passed off as nobody hearing your question. And it probably would’ve been, if you hadn’t seen the slight drop of John’s head.

It was physically impossible for him to ignore you; it always had been.

Tommy took this opportunity to push his younger brother away and the two men stood glaring daggers at each other, embroiled in an argument only they were privy to.

“Tommy, what’s he talking about?!” You ask your boyfriend, who was now unable to meet your eye.

Once again your question is met with silence.

“Will somebody bloody answer me!”

Your small hands ball into fists at your sides as you look between them.

John’s face softens when he finally looks at you, the confusion that passes over your delicate features serving to break his heart further.

The guilt that flashes in his eyes as he threads a hand through his hair adds to your impatience. “Well get on with it then!”

“He knew, Y/N/N, that you liked him. He knew because he read your diary. He already knew and he had it all planned out in his little fucking mind the minute you asked him for the job. Why’d ye think he said yes? I told him-” an accusatory finger points at Tom standing a few feet away “-you weren’t to be played with, and now look!”

You fail to register John lunging at Tom. You fail to register the scuffle that ensues as a result. You fail to register Polly screaming at the top of her lungs to separate the brawling idiots.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, your new found utopia crumbles between your fingers and you stand, completely oblivious to your surroundings, as everything clicks into place.

“You knew?” You whisper, inching towards Tommy.

He watches you shift from confusion to anger to disgust as the revelation sinks in, shredding through the trust he’d so effortlessly built. And he was utterly powerless to stop it.

“The whole time... you knew? When you came to me and- and asked me to... you knew?!”

His mouth opens, but the words escape him.

With a final shake of your head, your trembling figure retreats from the office; the following slam of the double doors eliciting a flinch from everyone.

The parilysis subsides, and he jams his finger into John’s chest. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Y/N wait.”

Your feet cry out and your muscles scream in protest as you storm down the cobbled road, Tommy hot on your heels. But with the searing pain in your hand creeping up your wrist, you push on, desperate to escape any person with Shelby as their last name.

“Y/N please I can explain!”

“You can explain? You can explain?!” Shrieking you finally give in to the blind rage that threatens to consume you.

“You can explain what exactly Thomas? You can explain how you violated every ounce of trust we’ve ever had? You can explain how you thought it’d be a good old laugh to have me convince the man I was hopelessly in love with to marry someone else?! You can explain how the past 7 months - everything between us - was one big lie! You don’t need to explain anything Tom, honest. It all seems pretty fucking clear to me.”

Tommy watches your hands wave and point and clap and throw themselves in the air as the anger pours out of your every word. See, it was a tough one for him really. On the one hand, he’d really fucked up and the least he could do was pay attention to the scolding he was rightfully due. On the other, you were so god-damned irresistible when you were angry it was driving him mad.

“God Tommy! I thought you were different! I actually thought you were fucking different. I thought you loved me, not as a lie, not out of fear, but honest true love. And that’s the worst part, really Tom, it’s not that you pulled the wool over my eyes, no no, it’s that I fooled myself into thinking this was actually real! I should’ve known I was just another pawn in your stupid game.”

Whirling around, you resume your getaway.

“If this was all a game, why would I have this?”

When your body slowly turns back to face him, Tommy knows the argument is done.

“What are you...” your voice trails off as you find Tom on one knee in the middle of the deserted street.

He held a little black box, and in that little black box sat a gold ring set with a diamond so flawless it remained sparkling under the gloomy skies of Small Heath, and a sapphire so blue you’d get lost at sea if you dared to stare too long.

“I do love you Y/N, have done for a while. Not as a game, not until I get bored, just honest true love.”

Tommy moves to stand in front of you, stopping inches from the tip of your nose. He takes your left hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger with ease, pausing to admire the look of the gold metal against your smooth skin.

“I had to ask you to convince John or you’d still be in love with him today, wasting away oblivious to how much you’re really worth. Yes I had a plan when this started, but I could never have planned falling in love with you-”

Chapped lips graze over your knuckles, kissing each one softly.

“-I could never have planned the amount of time I spend thinking about you in your absence-”

His lips brush over your wrist, leaving pecks along the length your arm.

“-and I could never plan the desperate need to hold you in my arms, to see your smile and hear your laugh and cherish you, because you’re the only thing in this god foresaken world that can keep the storms at bay.”

His feather-light kisses trail over your shoulder and along the curve of your neck, stopping just above your lips in an undeclared challenge. You close the distance, hungrily drawing his bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers tug at your roots, deepening the kiss.

The intoxicating taste of sweet smoke and Irish whiskey sweeps over your tastebuds and you tangle your fingers in his soft brown tresses.

Reluctantly separating a few seconds later, you’re both left panting as you make up for the lack of air. His hands make themselves at home on your waist, whilst yours settle comfortably on his chest.

“You know... I never did say yes” you smirk, twisting the gold band around your finger.

“Mm it was implied.”

So caught up in the joys of young love were you and your fiancé, that you failed to notice the wooden doorway supporting John’s weight as he watched in the distance...

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem!reader x oc)

xiv. boketto.

— the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking.

You came back into your body with a quiet crackling of the air around you. You could feel the way you acclimated back to your own body, having been pulled from it without Shion to occupy it while you were gone. You were stationary, your fingers still gently pressed to Yuuji’s forehead, and it took you a few moments of blurry vision and confused thoughts for you to realize the boy was very much awake and staring at you with a wide, surprised gaze. You lowered your hand from his face cautiously, wary of earning some sort of lash back for invading his mind, but all he did was look at you with slow, even blinks to convey his mental game of confusion.

“Um… What’s going on here?” He questioned, eyes flicking from you to Gojo and back again, as if his teacher had an answer for what you had just done. He watched you reach up and gently touch the baby at your chest, frowning for a moment. “Shiraishi-s...san?”

“I apologize for invading your mind without permission.” You smiled and bowed your head, trying to resist the way Shion was attempting to work your connection back. It seemed he was struggling more than usual and it was causing your chest to twist and ache unpleasantly; likely a result of his leftover anger. He was still likely angry, you knew, but he couldn’t resist staying away from you for too long. At least an hour was his record, at least, you believed it was an hour—you couldn’t be sure when domains worked differently in terms of time. It was probably longer, you supposed, but you couldn’t stand around and wait to see how long it would take him to establish that connection. “And I also apologize for… hurting you, before. You must know I didn’t mean it, Itadori-san.”

He looked more befuddled than before, eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise. You wondered if Sukuna was talking to him somehow, telling him to befriend you—or something along those lines. “Oh, uh… Yeah. The god in your body did it, right? Not you? So, consider it water under the bridge, I guess.”

You couldn’t blame him for his hesitance. He was, after all, a vessel, the same as you, and he knew as well as you did that sometimes the actions of vessel and curse aligned at times. You weren’t sure about Sukuna in Yuuji’s case, but Shion’s actions aligned with your beliefs and wants perfectly. He didn’t doubt you for a second, and nor did you him—except for recently, perhaps.

The tampering with your connection was growing too irritating for you to bear and you could feel bile cresting in your throat. It wasn’t much, but you were going to purge you stomach’s meagre contents, and soon, so you fixed Gojo with a grateful smile; one that was laced with warning for him not to stop you.

“I’m afraid I have to go now,” you said, bowing low to Yuuji and Gojo separately. It was only the polite thing to do, and well, it didn’t help settle your nerves in the least. Shion twisted at the connection again and your smile became a little more pained, a little more tenuous. “I apologize for the intrusion, Satoru-san. Thank you for bringing me here.”

With little else to spur you on than the pinpricks of pain crawling up your belly and chest, you breezed past Gojo and up the stairs, slamming the door when the wind vacated the space behind you. The basement was silent for a few moments, maybe more, with Yuuji and Gojo staring up the staircase where you had vanished, as if you had never been there to begin with.

“What was that all about?” Yuuji asked, reaching for a half drank can of soda. He grimaced at the flat taste and the sickly sweet artificial aftertaste that came after, putting it down on the table with an audible clink. “Oh, gross.”

Gojo hummed and declined to answer, pulling another move from the generous pile he had donated to the cause, and cracked open the case. He spun the disc around the holder a few times, thoughts whirling as he considered your words from before, about the higher ups. The distaste in your tone as you spoke. He didn’t think you would have been one to be loyal to the higher ups in the first place, of course, seeing as you had been hidden from the world for almost your entire life—it wasn’t such an issue to assume that you were, in fact, harboring the same ideals he was: get rid of the higher ups. Your views, however, might be inherently more selfish; you had no care for any of the other sorcerers, not even for the woman who had been at your side since you became a vessel. You seemed entirely focused on escaping the confinement, the pressing holds, of the old crones that made up the circle of higher ups; at least, that was what he was able to read from you. Without that god hovering over you like a ghost, you were surprisingly human, and vulnerable—not that he had expected anything less. Yuuji was much the same in that regard. However, while parallel in origin, you and Yuuji were not the same, not really; your curse would protect you until the day you died, that much was obvious. Sukuna was much more malicious in intention, without a doubt.

“Gojo-sensei,” Yuuji whined, drawing his attention back to his student. He huffed and slumped over on the sofa, almost knocking over a stray can. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course,” he laughed, inserting the CD into the disc drive. It was a low budget horror film, he recognized, but he didn’t watch it personally. He had scooped up the cheapest selections he could find, with some more widely known titles like Lord of the Rings, but Yuuji didn’t seem to mind them as much as he thought. “I was just thinking about our new ally.”

“Ally?” the pink haired male gawked. “Who?”

Gojo tipped his head to the side, a large grin on his face. “You just met her.”

While Gojo shoved his student back to the test, you were worse off—perhaps even more so—your eyes darting across buildings and streetlights to gauge your location. Your stomach rumbled unpleasantly and you almost swore Shion was doing it to you on purpose, but you could feel his anger preventing him from unraveling the block completely; or he was conflicted, and was going back and forth on his decisions. It was wreaking havoc on your body, that was for certain, and you almost wanted to reach into his domain and pull him out yourself. If that was possible, you didn’t know, but for now, you could be content with a toilet.

You had to sprint to make it to your building before your stomach betrayed you. You had sense enough to lean over in a group of shrubs and hide your evidence, heaving your stomach’s contents onto the grass, and when you opened your eyes, spent, tears glazing your eyes, you noticed that it was entirely black; as black as ink, as black as the night sky in full midnight. You didn’t think you had eaten anything that color and when you rolled your tongue in your mouth, you tasted something sickly sweet and with the tang of iron.

Blood.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, feeling it smear across your cheek. You couldn’t be bothered with it now; you had to get back into your room and make sure Shion was none the wiser to what you had been up to. Your stomach cramped painfully and you barely made it up the tree and across the roof, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from groaning at the pain. You wern’t certain if it was Shion or the blood you had vomited up that made you feel so awful, but you could attribute it to both if you wanted, and you did. You slipped through the window once more and locked it behind you, snatching up a book and cradling Ayako to your chest despite wanting nothing touching you at the moment.

Cold sweat dripped down the back of your neck and you were certain it had nothing to do with Shion now. You felt… ill. Sick. Diseased. Your heart was beating a little too fast; your pulse pounded in your ears; you felt anxious, panicky; you half wondered if you were having a panic attack, but pushed it aside when the connection finally unraveled like the petals of a lotus—slowly, and then all at once.

“Shion,” you croaked, breathy and light. You sensed his alarm at the growing pain in your body and a flush of energy breezed through you, dulling the pain bit not completely suffocating it. “Thanks.”

What happened? He materialized almost instantly afterwards. His hair was haphazardly put into a knot at the back of his head and stuck up in a million different places, as if he’d spent hours running his hands through it before tying it back up and leaving it as was. His horns even protruded from his skull, longer than you recalled them being, and he had dark circles under his eyes, deep and ominous against the pallor of his skin. He looked almost as sickly as you did, if not worse. Your gut told you that something more was going on here, something deeper. “[Name]?”

His vocalization of your name ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up at him, sweat beading your brow. “I… I don’t know. I threw up, and then my stomach started—then the sweating…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gathering you into his arms. Your book flopped to the floor, uncared for, even as the page fluttered open to the ‘A’ section, the name ‘Ayako’ highlighted by a streak of moonlight. “If I had known my anger would make you so ill, I would have never cut off our connection. I could have stopped this.”

Your own guilt overpowered his. You patted his arm, just above the crook of his elbow, and grimaced at the way your skin stuck to his with the cooling sweat. “It’s alright, Shion. It isn’t your fault—your emotions, while new, aren’t something to be brushed aside. You can’t just ignore them for me. You have to overcome them. I think not sharing them is… making it worse every time.” You silently omitted the fact that his failed attempts at unraveling the connection had started it in the first place. You deserved this pain for betraying him. You deserved everything he gave you, even if it was unintentional. It was the only way you would succeed. “... Help me up?”

When you were safely tucked away in your bed, your clothes changed into something more cooler to deal with the sweat, you allowed Shion to sequester Ayako away in a pillow barricade and steal her side for himself, likely having learned it from passively observing you. He was careful not to jostle you too much, highly aware of the way your stomach was still churning, and rested his ear against your heart, tapping his fingers to the rhythm on your hip. You didn’t fight him off, no matter how uncomfortable you might have been, and played idly with his hair, pulling it from the knot and twisting it around his horns. Other than your breathing and Ayako’s quiet sounds of grunting and squeaking, the room was quiet. You could feel him gearing up to speak in the way his jaw was working.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you reassured him, throat flexing over the gag reflex you were trying to repress. A moment later it was gone, magically repressed—but you could still feel it resisting his power, strangely. “I don’t expect you to explain everything to—”

“But I want to,” Shion interrupted you. He never looked up at you, but continued to tap to your heartbeat still, even noting the slight stutter when your thoughts came to a screeching halt. “That was a… sensitive time in my existence. I admit that. But… I don’t believe I’m ready to speak of it just yet. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

You waited for a moment to see if he would say anything more, to even hint that he was as angry as he was before, but all you felt from him was guilt, guilt, and more guilt, which made no sense; you were the only one who had to feel guilty about anything. His secrets didn’t have the ability to break hearts and fragile trust, after all.

“Alright,” you said, once it was clear he had nothing else to say. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Shion.”

“And if one day, I want to?”

You frowned slightly at his change in tone. Something was different. Something had… shifted. You couldn’t put your finger on it and shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to thumb the prongs of his horns thoughtfully. “Then that’s your decision, not mine.”

A pause. Then,”I see.”

“Are you alright?” You asked, finally, when waiting became too much. He looked up at you then, green and gold eyes flashing in the moonlight, and though his gaze was gentle, every instinct in you warned you to flee. But like a lamb to a lion, you were doomed to a careful existence with him. “You look, well, awful. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

He frowned, almost similarly to how you did, and his eyebrows drew down. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m sure it'll be fine then.” You yawned, pressing your fist against your mouth to smother it. You snuggled into your pillow and shifted Shion to be a little more comfy, eyes flicking to Ayako, who was as placid as ever. Shion turned his head again and pressed his ear to your heart once more, obscuring your view of Ayako completely. You were blissfully unaware at the way his eyes narrowed at the child when you slipped into a deep sleep, mumbling,”Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Shion whispered. “[Name].”

Ayako froze underneath his stare, dark eyes wide, and remained that way until the god finally vanished upon the first rays of the sun.

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