#at least i can draw blankets pretty well.

[acanthemp3]

why are pillows like. one of the hardest objects for me to paint. right up there with complex architecture and bags

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Alphabet: Nightcrawler

a/n: At last, I thought this was going to take longer to write but I couldn't help myself. I was surprised that my sfw one did as well as it did, so naturally I had to do a nsfw one. I want to mention I tried to make it as gender-neutral as I can, I want everyone to enjoy my writing regardless of what you identify as. I hope you all enjoy. <3

Minors DNI. 18+ below the cut.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Kurt is very cuddly after sex. Whether he was top or bottom, he likes to snuggle.

If Kurt was on top, he will hold you and reassure you, saying loving things to you while giving you tender kisses on your cheeks and temples, and anywhere that he might've bit or marked. He will also get up and make sure to clean you, wiping a warm rag over your sensitive areas and praising how beautiful/handsome you are.

He would draw a bath or shower, and he'd absolutely change the sheets while you clean up. Kurt would also make sure to get you snacks or anything that you like to have for aftercare.

If Kurt was bottom, he would be rather clingy to you, not wanting you to go and wanting to hold you. He likes to be taken care of in a similar fashion to how he would care for you. He likes to hear your praise and he will want you close to him for the rest of the night.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Kurt has a hard time loving himself sometimes, but he learned to from you. He likes to see your reaction to his body, so he learned to love his tail and pointy canines, since you always seem to react positively to them. His ears can also be quite sensitive if you kiss or lick them.

On his partner, he couldn't possibly choose a favorite body part. He loves your hands, how they feel on his velvety fuzz, how warm and delicate/strong they are.

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

Kurt has unique biology, so naturally that applies to his spunk too. He cums a lot, and he likes to cum inside you because he feels more connected with you. He also can't deny how incredible it feels, you're already so warm and tight around him, and when his hot cum spurts out and surrounds him, it just makes him want to orgasm again and again.

He isn't ashamed or afraid of cum play either. He will eagerly lick you clean, eating you out after he fills you up. He isn't shy about it. Sometimes he will do this instead of using a damp cloth just to be cheeky. And that typically leads to another round.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Kurt secretly wishes you walk in on him touching himself or masturbating so you can see how needy he is without you.

He's always wanted to try recording himself for you, but that would be something extremely sensitive and intimate you'd have to swear you never showed or told anyone about.

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

Kurt isn't a virgin, he's been around a few partners so he is at least a little experienced. He might have only done vanilla things with past partners, or not, but he has had enough partners to know what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

The good hearted part of him wants to stick with missionary, he feels more connected with you that way, and he gets to see how your eyes roll back when he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you, watching you cling onto him, holding him tightly.

But the naughtier part of him wants to say doggy, he can really push himself deep and let loose that way. Especially if you like it too, he loves feeling your ass against his hips, watching you cling onto the blankets while he thrusts with abandon.

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

Kurt is obviously very playful, so being intimate with him would be loving and sweet, but he'd laugh every now and then out of pure love and joy. Sex can be a little awkward or messy, and he'd absolutely love those moments where you both let out a little giggle because of a funny sound that came from either of you.

There are times where he takes it more serious, but because it is such an intimate and vulnerable moment for the both of you, it feels more comforting when you can smile and laugh a little.

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

Kurt is covered in a layer of velvety fuzz, but he has a happy trail of longer hair that leads down to his crotch. He isn't crazy grown, but he had a good patch of longer fuzz where his pubic hair is. It is groomed well enough to not get in the way of your activities. The hair is also slightly darker than his skin, but not completely black like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be incredibly sweet and tender, or go a little more intense depending on what you like or ask of him. Overall, his default will generally be loving and romantic. He likes to make the scene comfortable for you, making sure you are cozy laying down, the room will smell nice with candles, and he makes the atmosphere relaxing.

He likes to give you a massage before you have sex, rubbing out any nerves you might have or just to get you extra comfortable with him. He likes to do this especially when you are trying something new that you might be a little wary about.

If you are uncomfortable, he will hold your hips and gently move his thumbs in circles, speaking to you softly and making sure you're not in any pain. He is very patient and won't rush anything.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Kurt doesn't masturbate a whole lot, but when he does, he gets a little crazy. He will touch himself when he's gone on missions or when you're not around to help him. He whines for you, his hand moves up and down and lightly twists to add extra feeling. He likes to pay special attention to his tip.

Sometimes if he really misses you and can't hold out, he will hump himself into his bed and imagine you are there with him. He can get very needy when you're away, and sometimes he just can't help himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Kurt is German, so he has a handful of kinks he likes that are out of the ordinary.

He has a religious and corruption kink, the idea of the blasphemy turns him on and he didn't even realize it until it was an accidentally discovered one night when you two were having sex. You decided to talk dirty to him, and while you generally leave his religion out of it, you said something that made him stiffen and instead of saying something to you about it his cock seemed to harden in your grasp and leak out extra precum.

You learned that he really enjoyed feeling like you were corrupting him. You don't go crazy, but you speak to him about his religion and corruption just enough to make him a mewling mess. Especially if you are roleplaying and he is a priest and you are the sinner corrupting his mind. He gets into it.

He might try some light bondage, nothing too crazy, but tying you up or having himself tied up might be fun. He doesn't like to use anything that would hurt, so no rough ropes or hard metal cuffs. He sometimes wraps his tail around your wrists to hold them above your head or behind your back.

He has a secret breeding kink, hence why he loves doggy so much. He feels like he can let go and pound into you, filling you up and moaning about how many little bamfs you will have (regardless of gender lol it's all for play anyway).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He likes to do things in the comfort of his or your bedroom for the most part, but he isn't opposed to doing it other places. He wouldn't mind going to the roof at night for some fun, or teleporting to the woods, or to places like the danger room when it's unoccupied. (Professor X totally didn't see you two on the security footage).

But mostly just likes to stick to the bedroom. He can enjoy you fully there without feeling rushed or worried about being caught or seen, and he can properly take care of you there.

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

Praise towards him gets him riled up like no other. Telling him he did good in something, but really putting emphasis on it makes his cheeks turn purple and his underwear feel tight.

Also learning to speak things in German to him turns him on like crazy, especially if you learned how to say something dirty on your own and randomly saying it to him. He will pounce on you immediately.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Kurt wouldn't want to hurt you or be hurt himself. He takes intimacy seriously, despite him being able to be playful. He would never harm you.

If you treat him poorly or go too far with your dirty talk to the point where it sounds degrading, he won't enjoy it. He's been through a lot of negative experiences and a lot of it was verbal, so anything that sounds similar to that will be a no go for him.

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

Kurt is a giver, so he would jump on you any chance he got. His tongue is incredibly skilled, he knows just how to lap and flick, can mix licking and sucking perfectly. He knows where your clit is and finds it every time, teasing that little button with the swirl of his tongue and sloppy kisses. He loves to tease you, holding your hips still while he buries his nose into your pubic bone and eats you like a starved man.

On the other hand, he knows how to work around a dick, he likes to give teasing kisses and kitten licks before taking you fully and sucking. He will gradually build up to deepthroating, he likes to look up at you with you fully in his throat because you make the best noises for him.

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

Kurt is very adaptive to your preferences. He will pretty much do whatever you ask, whether it be slow or fast, rough or gentle. However he doesn't ever get too rough with you.

If Kurt is bottoming, he usually likes it slow and steady, he likes to feel every thrust given to him. But sometimes, he gets so pent up and horny, he wants you to fuck him good.

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

He wouldn't mind doing them. He likes to pull you away, sneaking you behind a wall or teleporting you to an empty room and getting a quick fuck in.

Kurt would prefer to have all the time in the world with you, but he understands that sometimes you just need a quick release, and so does he.

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

Kurt is pretty open minded to things, he'd be willing to try just about everything once.

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

His stamina is very good, I mean he was a trapeze artist and that takes a lot of strength and stamina to do. He can thrust and fuck for quite a long time.

As far as how many rounds he could do, probably only two or three, but he prefers to have one big orgasm inside you rather than dragging it out for too long.

Kurt can last for a while, but generally he only lasts from 10 minutes to an hour, not including foreplay. Which doesn't sound like a lot, but 10 minutes of constant thrusting does get tiring.

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

He does have some toys for himself. He has a small bullet vibrator he likes to hold on the underside of his cock, right beneath his tip, it drives him crazy and gets him there fast.

He has some other toys for exploratory things like anal, but wouldn't bring them up with you unless you expressed interest.

If you own toys, he would be down to using them on you for sure. He encourages you to show him how you like to use them so he can learn what you like too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Kurt is a huge tease. He likes to bring you sooo close, then stop and watch you whimper and squirm. That cheeky grin, watching you unravel and become more and more desperate for him gets him going, so when he does finally penetrate you, you're nearly cumming just from that. But when he does allow you to cum after teasing you for so long, it feels so incredible.

Vise versa, Kurt cannot stand being teased, he is a puddle if you bring him close and then stop. He begs and whines, but knows you're only doing it because he did it to you, and his sweet sounds are so good to listen to.

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

He can be very loud. Kurt makes an array of different noises when you are together. All of which turn you on even more because he isn't afraid to be loud with you.

He will whimper and whine, moan and groan, and mewl with pleasure. He begs for more from you, talks dirty in German to you, and his accent makes him sound even more desperate sometimes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Kurt doesn't cuss a whole lot, but if he's super into it, he will let out a spray of German curses while he is inside you or you inside him, and generally right before he's about to cum.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Germans have nice sizes, so Kurt can range from 7-7.5 inches depending on how long it's been since he had sex and how horny he is.

His cock is blue like him, obviously, and his head is a purple-ish blue that grows brighter when more aroused. It's a very pretty cock, and he blushes like crazy when you tell him that.

He is girthy, just enough to stretch you good when he penetrates you. You will need a second to get used to him, but he won't hurt you terribly.

When he's erect, his cock springs up and curves upward slightly.

Even flaccid, he is still large, his length flaccid is about 4 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Kurt can go without sex for a long time. He has bursts where he is horny a lot and his drive is high, but then he has bursts where he isn't. It depends on his own hormones and his partner. He would never pressure you if he is horny and you aren't, he always wants you to feel comfortable.

Sex isn't a necessity in the relationship, and while he can get pretty kinky and lustful, he ultimately sees sex as another way to connect with his partner in a way no one else can. Being vulnerable and intimate like this makes him feel so special and he hopes that you feel that way too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Kurt can fall asleep quickly after sex, but he won't allow himself to unless you are completely satisfied and taken care of. He goes through his entire aftercare routine before he will lay down with you.

Once you are cleaned up, fed and given water, he will slip in next to you and curl up right beside you, whispering 'I love yous' and gentle praises, laying sweet kisses along your temple and forehead.

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[purplestars222]

Period comfort with hazbin characters

ft alastor, lucifer, fallen!adam and husk

gn afab reader! no y/n used, and you arent in a relationship with alastor, just besties <3 all the other boys have a crush on you.

there will be more parts, may not be period comfort tho, just more hazbin/helluva characters comforting the reader while theyre sick

cw: mentions of period sex, adam is chubby, slight ooc

mdni please<3

Alastor

The smell of blood draws alastor to your room, hes a little worried that you're hurt, but its nothing he cant fix. As he enters your room, and sees you curled up in the fetal position he goes and sits next to you

"Darling, whats the matter? It's a wonderful day and you're spending it in bed! I believe Charlie is baking cookies! You-"

"go away alastor. i'm on my period."

"Well why didnt you say so!"

Alastor disappears into his shadow, and returns a few minutes later with a hot water bottle, a bottle of cold water, some pain meds and dark chocolate. He throws the items on your bed and smiles at you expectingly. You shoot him back a smile of appreciation. Even tho alastor and you had your moments, he's still a good friend when he needs to be.

Lucifer

Lucifer has a crush on you, and its no secret either. Every day he sits next to you during breakfast, he always makes sure you eat enough. He always does Charlie's silly little trust exercises with you, just being in your vicinity makes him happy. When you dont come down for breakfast, he gets worried, he made your favourite for you- pancakes! He decides to take some to your room. When he enters, and sees you curled up on the bed, he sits the tray of pancakes on your bedside table and sits next to you

"Hey, you didnt come down for breakfast, are you okay??"

you shake your head no, and he seems really concerned. He hates seeing you in pain, its horrible. Suddenly he remembers something- lillith acted like this when she first came to hell, periods. In the garden of eden, lilliths periods didnt hurt her, but as soon as she came to hell, it felt like her uterus was stabbing her, luckily luci fixed it

"Can i help?"

You stare up at him, eyes slightly watering from the pain and nod your head, anything to get rid of this. Luci carefully peels back your blanket and rests his hands on your groin, you shiver at the feeling of his warm hands, its nice. Theres a bright glow of golden light, and suddenly, the pains gone, the period pain at least, you still have a headache, and you're still pretty exhausted. You pull luci into a hug, he hugs back, giving you a kiss on the head

"Want me to run you a bath, sweetheart?"

"Yes please"

Lucifer hops up and heads into your ensuite, he starts a bath, making sure to get some really nice smelling soap and bath salts. He puts some rose petals in the tub to make it look pretty, and a couple of rubber duckies. Lucifer cares so much, hes so sweet.

Adam

Adam doesn't really understand the whole 'periods thing'. They didn't have them in heaven, so he doesn't really know what to do when you wake up grabbing your stomach. He pulls out his phone and decides to have a look online to see if there's anything he can get that will help, theres products from the vee's, but he doesnt trust those fuckers. He scrolls across an article that says orgasms can help with period cramps. When adam first shoots the idea at you, you're hesitant, period sex isnt something you've done before, and it seems a little scary, but you let him. He puts a towel under the both of you, and he makes sure that you 100% wanna do this before he gets started. When you guys have done, your pains are pretty much gone. he pulls you on top of him and you just lay there for awhile, enjoying the warmth from adams soft belly <3

Husk

Husk isn't too educated with this stuff either, but he knows how to take care of someone when they're sick. He doesn't realise you have your period at first, he just thinks it's a stomach bug. He gets you some chicken noodle soup and a few painkillers, when you explain to him that you have no appetite because of how bad the pain is, it suddenly clicks in his brain what's happening. He gives you a small kiss on the forehead, then walks out. He goes to charlie asking for help, she gathers together a basket full of snacks, pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, period underwear, hot water bottle with a cute cat cover and some noise cancelling headphones, in case things get overwhelming. Husk brings it back to you and lets you snuggle into him, something he doesn't allow very often. You spend the next few days cuddled up in bed, playing with husks ears watching movies. He helps you when you need to shower, and also keeps your hot water bottle hot. he just really enjoys taking care of you, not that he'd admit that

[sinsandsweetness]

thinking about living across the hall from Frank…

-> always running into him at the most random times. in the elevator or the lovey super late at night or bright and early in the morning. When he’s on his way to a job and you’re coming back from work. Or you’re on your way to study at the library and he’s got his keys and a bag of groceries in his hands. Always giving you a little nod of acknowledgment but neither of you ever have the courage to speak. To actually say hi.

-> until one day where you get locked out of your apartment. You lost your keys or something. And with your luck, your roommate works the night shift at the hospital. You’ve got no way in until morning.

-> So you find yourself stuck. An hour goes by and you’re sitting on the dirty carpet hallway floor. Leaned up against the wall. Eyes fluttering closed because hell it’s been a long day. Frank, on his way home from work, makes his ways down the hall. Concerned at first by the sight of your body laying in the hall. But he gets to his door and it’s just you, half asleep. You give him a soft smile and he finally asks you for your name. You explain your situation and he nods in understanding.

“Well don’t just sit there. C’mon.” He’d wave you into his place, lunchbox in hand. Dirty from a day of construction. In desperate need of a shower and some food.

-> you’re reluctant to come in. Not because of Frank. Or at least not because you didn’t like him. More so… the opposite. You found him intimidating. Handsome. Rugged. You always enjoyed running into him. Smiling at him in the elevator. Trying not to blush too hard. But there’s just this aura about him that makes you a little nervous. Butterflies or something.

-> he’d tell you to make yourself at home while you wait to get ahold of your roommate. Or come up with a plan to get your keys. To call the landlord. Though you doubt they’d answer at this hour.

-> he asks if you’re alright if he showers, “I’ll be quick. You can help yourself to the fridge.” He even grabs you a beer and places it on the table in front of you. Cracking one for himself as he heads for the washroom.

-> it feels weird. Being in a strangers home. It’s empty. Sad almost. Grey walls. Nothing… personal. Nothing that tells you anything about the man. It’s clean. As clean as any of the suites in you cheap ass apartment can possibly get. But it’s bland. It’s a bachelor suite. He’s got nothing more than the necessities. The basics. You can’t help but think about Frank. In this apartment. Every night by himself. He must be lonely.

-> you saunter over to the fridge. Not particularly hungry, but feeling slightly awkward just sitting at his table and doing nothing. There’s enough to make a weeks worth of sandwiches. And a more than a few weeks worth of beer. You take a swig of your bottle.

-> when the water shuts off, you get back to your spot at the table. Checking your phone. The messages with your roommate. He’s probably busy. Drawing blood. Stitching people up. Doing whatever it is he does as a surgical intern.

-> “you get ahold of him?” Franks voice brings you back.

“Oh, no. He’s- he’s probably busy. Works at the hospital so… um… thanks for inviting me in, but uh, I can just wait out there.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, getting up to leave.

“Wait out there? All night?” He asks. Your gaze goes down to his shirt. A little damp where beads of water are running down his neck. Off his beard. You look back up. He’s got such pretty eyes, you notice.

“Yeah, i’ll be alright.” You give him a tight lipped smile. But he’s not having it.

He shakes his head, “here,” he grabs a blanket from the supply closet. And a pillow. A pillowcase. He fumbles with the makeshift bedding for a moment until he makes the couch up. It does look nicer than the stained hallway carpet.

“You can’t stay out there. There’s some real… weirdos in this area. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” His concern makes your stomach flutter. Even if it’s just human decency. Courtesy of not wanting you to get mugged or murdered.

“You really don’t have to-“ you try to deny the offer but he grabs your bag. Gently pulling it off your shoulders and placing it against the wall.

“It’s just for the night. I don’t mind. Seriously.” His eyes are serious. Brows furrowed in concern.

-> the couch is cozier than you expected. Worn and used in the most perfect way. It takes you no time to fall asleep. Frank on the other hand, is having some serious insomnia. There’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, right outside his bedroom. Sleeping on his couch. Probably making his blanket smell like her vanilla perfume. It’s making his brain all fuzzy. He can’t think. Well, he can’t not think. You’re wearing one of his tee shirts. He offered it up. No, he insisted. And when saying goodnight from his bedroom doorway, he couldn’t help but notice that your pants were folded up on top of your bag, and your bare legs gleamed in the dim light of the living room, as you fluffed up your pillow.

-> the two of you had some very interesting dreams that night.

-> Waking up to the smell of coffee, you’re blushing hard when he hands you a mug. He tells you he has to leave for work. Lunchbox in hand, jacket on.

-> He didn’t ask for his shirt back.

-> you wave Frank goodbye as you watch him head down the hallway, and at the same time, you see your roommate come out of the elevator at the end. Both of them exchange a nod and a glance. Your roommate jogs up to let you both into your place.

“You coulda came to the hospital. Coulda grabbed my keys,” he says plopping himself down on the couch. Rubbing his eyes. Long night for him as well.

“I didn’t even think about it. He just- Frank invited me in and I was so tired… I mean, it seemed like a better option than sleeping in the hall…”

“Well it was real nice of him. Maybe you should make him a dish or somethin’. Lasagna? Y’know, to say thank you.”

“You just want some lasagna don’t you?” You smirk, rolling your eyes.

Your roommate smiles back. A low chuckle escapes his throat. “The man let you sleep on his couch. You better be sayin’ thank you somehow.”

continued here

(Idk what this is tbh but um… let me know what we think??)

[cuubism]

a very silly story for you. johanna, dreamling's weird baby, and an accidental kidnapping (and subsequent rescue)

--

Johanna’s seen a lot of weird shit in her time. It comes with the territory. Magical shit also tends to be horrible shit which also tends to be weird shit. But even she is finding herself flummoxed by this one.

She’d broken into this flat prepared to perform an exorcism. Amateur occultist, planning to summon a demon? That’s what she’d heard, and yeah, that wasn’t going to go well. And it hadn’t—the guy was on fire when she arrived, so on fire that there was no way she could put it out or help him, though she had throne a blanket over him in a meager attempt. It was too late, though. He was charcoal in seconds.

That, while horrible, wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was that there wasn’t even a demon, but there was a baby.

Sitting in the middle of the room, in a bird cage.

Johanna stares at it now, barely noticing the acrid smoke she’s still breathing in. Why the actual fuck is there a baby in a birdcage?

It doesn’t seem to be hurt at all. It’s just sitting there on a blanket at the bottom of the cage, clutching a little cat stuffed toy in its chubby fingers. But it’s in a birdcage. A bird cage.

Johanna goes to open the cage, of course she does—

And the moment she touches the latch she jumps back, shaking out her hand from the spark. Holy hell, that thing is warded to high heaven. That cage could probably keep a demon contained. Why is a baby warded like that? It’s just a human—

It.

It looks like a human baby.

Johanna circles the cage, more wary now. She should know better, should know that an occultist like that wouldn’t be carrying around a regular baby in a cage. Even if you’re a real sicko, you don’t need a cage to keep hold of a baby. It can’t even walk.

So it’s not a regular baby. Sure looks like one, though. Makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, that does.

As Johanna looks more closely at the wards, the baby watches her with wide eyes, sucking on its thumb. It’s actually pretty cute. It’s even wearing a star-print onesie. The wards are hardcore, though. Nothing’s getting in, and certainly nothing is getting out.

“Either you’re some fucked up thing disguised as a baby,” she muses out loud, “or you’re an actual little baby fucked up thing, which means your fucked up nightmare mummy is going to come looking for you.”

The baby blurbles in agreement.

Either way, she can’t exactly take it to the authorities. Which means she’s going to have to take the baby home, at least for now.

“Fuck me,” Johanna says, and picks up the cage.

--

The baby is silent on the drive home—buckled awkwardly into the back seat of the car—and remains so as Johanna puts the cage down on the floor of her living room. It watches her with big eyes, sucking its thumb. It doesn’t seem particularly afraid, though Johanna can’t imagine being in a cage is very pleasant, even for a baby that probably doesn’t understand what’s going on anyway.

Or who knows, maybe it does. Jo doesn’t really know much about babies’ development trajectories.

“Right,” she says, looking at it with hands on her hips. “I’m not really looking to become a mum, so we’ll have to get you out of there and back where you belong. Fuck if I know where that is.”

The baby makes a gurgling sound that could be agreement or just gassiness.

Johanna gets out some chalk and starts to draw a containment array around the cage. “Sorry about this, little chap,” she says, “but I still don’t know what you are. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

The baby is silent, watching her.

Johanna finishes the containment circle, binding it off with a final rune. It’s not so mean of a ward as the cage had. Just enough to keep the baby from exploding with power once she does break the cage open. If that’s something it can even do.

She studies the ward. “Think I can pick this lock,” she says to herself. “Take me a sec, though. Don’t suppose you want a beer while you wait?” This to the baby. “I haven’t got any formula. Or are you old enough for baby food?”

The baby just sucks on its thumb. It really does seem quite sweet. Shame about secretly being a monstrosity in a cage, and all.

Johanna works on the ward, occasionally chatting out loud to the baby. It doesn’t reply, obviously, but it listens. Johanna is feeling more invested in getting it back to its parents the longer she sits with it. Even if it is some gross creature, it doesn’t deserve to be in a birdcage. It’s just a baby.

“Good trick we met each other, my friend,” she says as she finally unravels the last bit of the warding. “Doubt that guy had good plans for his captured baby.”

She clicks open the ward.

As soon as she does, the formerly placid baby starts screaming. And Johanna realizes that part of the ward’s function had been to stop it from crying for help.

“Mama!” the baby wails, tears pooling in its eyes, little fists scrunched tight around its plushy’s legs. “MammaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

Its voice warbles outside the normal sound range and straight into her brain, ringing like a bell. She covers her ears, but it doesn’t help. Great, now the thing’s mother is going to show up and eat her. This is what she gets for trying not to be a total asshole for once. Should’ve opened the cage in the street and fled.

“Shhhhhh,” she tries to soothe the baby, “it’s okay—” But it’s too late. And Johanna isn’t a very soothing person anyway. It probably wouldn’t have worked, even if the room hadn’t been plunged into sudden darkness.

Johanna stumbles back, though she can see nothing. Thunder and static ripple through the air, cold wind tangles her hair. Jo claps her hands over her ears as the air pressure increases and increases and—

The baby squeals, and it sounds happy now, rather than afraid. “Mama!!”

A voice scraped from the utter depths of mental torment booms through her flat.

C  O  N  S  T  A  N  T  I  N  E

Ah, fuck.

“Morpheus,” she tries, because she does recognize that voice, unfortunately, “listen—”

A wall of sand knocks her backwards.

As it does, some light returns to the flat, and she can see Morpheus, looking markedly less pathetic than when she’d last encountered him, standing in the center of the living room, looking down at the baby. His eyes flash with otherworldly light. His sand rushes around him, scrapes through the binding circle she’d drawn like it’s nothing but chalk, dissolves the birdcage to nothing, plays with the baby’s curls and pools in the crevices of its onesie. Meanwhile, it flattens Johanna against the wall, wraps in winding strands of wind around her chest and squeezes.

The baby reaches for Morpheus, who kneels and picks it up. He says something to the baby, the words low and solemn but inaudible over the rushing sand, then holds it close to his chest.

Then his gaze turns to Johanna.He looks murderous. Johanna had thought he’d been pissed off about his sand. She hadn’t seen even a tenth of it.

“I guess you’re mama?” she says, past the sand squeezing around her chest. This really is just the kind of stupid thing that would happen to her.

Morpheus’s eyes are like black holes in his pale face. “Constantine,” he growls, with much of the same danger as before, though at lower volume. “I thought we had parted on neutral terms. More fool I. What grudge do you still hold against me?” The sand squeezes her tighter. “Speak quickly, for your time is limited.”

“There’s no grudge, I have nothing to—”

“Ransom, then?” says Morpheus, seeming, if possible, more angry. “You would compel favors from me by threatening a child?” He clutches the baby to his chest. It’s started chewing on the lapel of his coat. The whole picture would be kind of hilariously adorable if she weren’t on the verge of being torn apart by nightmares.

“I’m not responsible for this!” Johanna insists. “Consult your stalker encyclopedia of all minds if you have to. You really think I’m going around kidnapping infants?”

“I think,” says Morpheus, each syllable a new threat, “that you must explain why you had my daughter in a cage. NOW. And count yourself fortunate I have granted you the mercy of an explanation.”

“I literally just found her!” Johanna says. Doesn’t she deserve even a little bit of good faith? She did help with the sand and all. Morpheus’s eyes narrow as if he does not believe her. “Look. Caught wind of this amateur guy messing around with occult stuff. Thought he’d summoned a demon so I went to exorcise it. Found this baby instead.”

“And what of this man?” says Morpheus in a tone that suggests exactly what will soon become of him.

“He was practically dead by the time I got there. Burned alive.” She shudders. She still hasn’t figured out exactly what was going on there, if he’d meant to summon Morpheus’s baby in the first place—ill-advised choice, that—or if it was a spell gone wrong. “‘Fraid you’re too late to torment him.”

“Hmm,” rumbles Morpheus, with evident displeasure, but the sand finally releases Johanna and she sways, standing on her own feet again. Morpheus doesn’t apologize for throwing her against the wall. “You will show me where you found her.”

“Sure, mate,” Johanna says, sucking in a wheezing breath. “Might want to get your baby home first, though.”

Morpheus doesn’t get a chance to respond. Behind Johanna, the front door bursts open— bursts off its fucking hinges, goddammit, now she’ll have to get that fixed— and a man runs through. A very ordinary man, except that he’s carrying a sword. An actual, medieval-looking sword. And in a way that suggests he knows how to use it, too.

He looks almost as murderous as Morpheus, except that no one can quite match Morpheus’s shadows-and-cataclysm level of murder. Evidently, Johanna found the most radioactive baby in all the occult world. But at least it has people that care about it. That’s nice, she supposes.

As soon as he sees Morpheus with the baby across the room, he relaxes, sheathing the sword in a scabbard strapped to his back. “Ah, love. You found her.”

“Dadaaaaaa!!!!” yells the baby with its piercing voice, reaching for him. And the man smiles, striding past Johanna and taking the baby from Morpheus, leaning in to kiss Morpheus on the cheek as he does.

“Hob,” says Morpheus, with a little smile that finally breaks his stormy countenance. “Yes. She called for me when she was able.”

“Good lass,” says Hob, kissing the baby on the forehead, then looks warily at Johanna.

“Ms. Constantine is not responsible,” says Morpheus, and ‘Hob’—his partner? Coparent? Johanna’s not sure she even wants to know—relaxes further.

“Great. Glad we’ve established that. How the hell did you find my flat.” This she demands of Hob.

Hob reaches into the back of the baby’s onesie and plucks a small disc off the collar; he shows it to her with a little wave, then slips it in his pocket.

“Is that an AirTag?”

“We aren’t all plugged into the whole collective unconscious.” He taps the baby on the nose fondly, and she giggles, grabbing at his finger. “And you’re Dada’s little flight risk, aren’t you?”

Johanna sighs, finally flopping down on the couch now that it seems she’s unlikely to get swept away to nightmare-land. She definitely needs a beer after this. “You have a baby?” she says to Morpheus.

“Evidently,” he says flatly. So much for getting answers on that.

“Have we gone after the person who was responsible?” asks Hob. Johanna thinks he means it to come out mildly but it doesn’t, really.

“Already got set on fire, mate,” Jo tells him. “Found him like that.”

“Set on fire?” says Hob with a frown. “Was the rest of the room on fire?”

As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. Which is strange.

Silently, she shakes her head, and Hob turns back to the baby. Now he’s grinning. “Did the bad man wish for power?” he says, in a baby-talk voice, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Did he? And did my little Sparkle take that literally and turn him into a lightbulb?” As a conspiratorial aside to Johanna, he says, “She loves electricity.”

“Sparkle?” she says. “She’s a baby, not a My Little Pony.”

“That is a nickname,” says Morpheus, with a sideways glance at Hob that suggests he finds it questionable at best. “She is Wish.” He says this in the same way he might say I am Dream, rather than my name is Dream.

A moment later, Johanna learns where the nickname came from, as Wish giggles and taps at Hob’s face, sparks dancing around her fingertips. Sparkle. Jesus.

“She does not yet have a firm grasp on her abilities,” says Morpheus.

Wish. Half-Endless baby. Kidnapper set on fire. Jo thinks she gets it now. She shivers.

“You have sworn to show me where you found her,” Morpheus reminds her. Sworn. Does he have to be so dramatic?

Jo sighs, but heaves herself up from the couch. “Yep. Alright. So long as you promise to keep better track of that monkey’s paw baby of yours.”

Morpheus bristles, but Hob just chuckles. “This is the easy part. Wait ’til she gets better at flying.”

He doesn’t appear to be joking. “Don’t envy you,” Johanna says. Then grudgingly admits, “She is cute, though.”

Hob beams.

Morpheus is still fixated on her. Johanna can read the demand without him having to voice it. “What, you’re gonna bring the baby along on the revenge mission?” she asks.

They both just look at her. Neither moves to take Wish home.

“Figures,” Johanna says, with a sigh. This is what she gets for not choosing a more normal profession. She opens the front door and gestures them on. “Fine, then. Let’s go.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 16

part 1 | part 15 | ao3

cw: unsympathetic religious discussion, mentions of oral sex (istg if you’re under 18 i will send such a sternly worded letter to your legal guardian, go aWAY)

“So just, to recap…” Eddie says dully, digging a thumb into his brow bone like he’s got a headache coming on. He’s sitting on the floor with his back against a work bench — one knee drawn to his chest, the other stretched out long, nearly tripping Steve where he's pacing a hole into the concrete. He lets his head fall against the bench with a thunk, looks up at Steve and continues, “we just got abducted by two asthmatic freshmen—”

“Pretty sure Dustin's the only one with asthma.”

"Okay, and I’m pretty sure that doesn't fucking matter when we've just been kidnapped and forced to play the world’s shittiest version of Seven Minutes in Heaven!"

Eddie takes a shuddering breath, brings his voice back down an octave. "Sorry,” he says, then sighs morosely to himself. “Imprisoned by my own sheepies…”

What a goddamned drama queen.

“Sheepies?” Steve asks.

"Never mind,” Eddie huffs. “Just... I mean, Jesus Christ, is this really what's happening? This? This is really where my life's at right now?”

Steve’s been wondering that himself.

“It's an intervention!" Dustin screeches. "It's for your own good!” “I’m gonna intervene your head from your body!” “That doesn’t even make sense!” Steve gives the metal above him one final, fruitless shove, then sinks down on the steps and puts his head in his hands. Pinches the end of his nose. His voice is hoarse from yelling, his temples starting to throb. Eddie’s shaking beside him like a cat that fell in an ice bath. “Seriously,” he pleads, lowering his voice. “Let us out; this isn’t cool.” “We will, okay? We promise. Just talk to each other first. Please? Just fifteen minutes.” Aaand he's yelling again. "Fifteen— are you out of your mind??" He's about to say 'hell no,' or maybe 'go fuck yourself,' but then Dustin yelps, “U.S.S. Butterscotch!” 'U.S.S. Butterscotch.' It’s basically the Scoops Troop's 'Olly olly oxen free.' “Goddammit, dude, FINE!”

“....Yeah, that about sums it up." Steve runs a hand through his hair, sweeping his bangs back off his forehead.

Eddie gives him a worn-out stare. “Well, shit.”

“Yep.” He goes back to his pacing — back and forth, back and forth, like it's actually doing anything to calm him down. (It isn’t really. If anything it’s just making his lower back damp with sweat.)

On the floor, Eddie shivers and draws his other leg to his chest, chin resting on bony knees, arms wrapped around his legs. "Christ, it's freezing," he complains, rubbing a hand over his shins. "If we die of exposure before I get to exact my revenge on those little assholes I'm gonna be so pissed."

"Here—" Steve starts to shrug off his jacket to give it to Eddie, but then he remembers the pills he still has stashed in the left pocket and abruptly changes course. He turns to the storage shelves, scanning for anything that might be useful, and— "There we go."

He makes his way to a messy pile of old camping supplies, scoops up an armful of whatever he can find: sleeping bags, flashlights, a lantern, some old citronella candles. They won't do much for warmth, but they'll make the place a bit less Russian torture chamber, at least.

Eddie eyes him a little warily as he sets up a spot right beside him on the floor. He spreads one sleeping bag out for them to sit on like a picnic blanket; offers the other one to Eddie, who drapes it over his shoulders like a cloak, his long, dark curls spilling over the edge.

"You got a light?" he asks, arranging the candles and the lantern in a half-circle around them.

"Sure do,” Eddie says. His face lights up when he slips a hand inside his pocket. "Oh, hell yeah, baby! Look what else I got."

He pulls out a silver flask, flashing it at Steve, and Steve ignores the way the words 'hell yeah, baby' bounce around his skull like an echo through an empty cavern.

"A little insurance policy in case the dinner party was a bore." Eddie unscrews the lid; takes a wincing swig. "Would have taken boring over this, though. Think I might’ve gotten a little more excitement than I bargained for." "Yeah,” Steve laughs under his breath. "You think?"

Eddie passes him the flask, sets to lighting all the wicks while Steve takes a shot. The whiskey is cheap, and it stings on the way down, but it's nice. Warm. Liquid amber in his chest, glowing like the candlelight Eddie sparks to life.

Eddie settles down beside him. With the workbench at their backs and the warm tint to the room, it's almost cozy. Reminds him of backyard sleepovers with Tommy; a little fortress built for two.

“Do you think they’re still listening?” Eddie's eyes flit to the stairs.

“Probably." Steve takes another swig, gesturing to the shadows beyond their makeshift camp. "He probably got Suzie to help him bug this whole place."

"Ah, yes. The crazy hot, crazy smart summer camp girlfriend who totally exists."

"She does, actually,” Steve laughs, “if you can believe it."

"No shit?"

"I know, right? I mean, like..." He scratches the side of his nose. "She's Mormon and lives all the way out in Utah, so it's not exactly like... but, whatever. He's super into her, so—"

"Hold up. Dustin's dating a Mormon?" Eddie says it like he’s spitting sunflower hulls. "That's almost worse than her being fake."

“What, you got some kinda history with Mormons?”

“Oh, yeah," Eddie snorts derisively. "The Mormons and I go waaay back."

"Wait, for real?" Was Eddie in a cult? Because that would actually explain so much.

"Dude. No. Hell no. Those fuckers love to solicit the downtrodden, though. They show up at the park all the time.”

“Great,” Steve deadpans. Another wonderful amenity of the Forest Hills experience.

“Don’t worry. Wayne usually just crosses himself at them until they go away.” He makes the sign of the cross, his rings glinting in the light. “Catholic middle-aged men and LDS teens, now there’s some quality petty drama.”

“So you’re Catholic, then?” Steve asks.

“Jesus, Harrington. We’re supposed to be kissing and making up and you want to start a religious debate?”

No, he absolutely does not. He wants to make fun of Eddie, because, "That’s the second time you’ve mentioned kissing." Eddie’s cheeks go horribly pink; peach tint in the deep orange glow. “First you wanna suck my blood at dinner, now you’re talking about making out. What next?” Steve teases. “You gonna offer to suck my dick?”

He means it as a joke — a slightly rude one, sure; insinuating, but still. He expects Eddie to get it, to roll his eyes and play along. Ha ha, Harrington.

When he used to say shit like this to Tommy, Tommy would always just laugh and shove him off, tell him to go suck it yourself.

Only Eddie doesn’t laugh.

Eddie goes quiet. Runs his tongue over his teeth. He fixes Steve with one of those looks; the kind that make him feel like a burglar caught in a flood light’s beam. “Why?" he teases back. "Did you want me to or something?”

—

part 17

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[soulofapatrick]

I See You - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theodore steps in when Draco corners you Words: 1.8k Warnings: fluff really Notes: I blanked while writing this as I've had Theodore Nott brainrot recently so don't mind me if I post a few Theodore stories

Y/N’s POV

Today was meant to be a peaceful day with Harry still at Hogwarts with Remus and Ron and Hermione off giggling like a lovesick couple. Hogsmead is ever so pretty covered in a blanket of snow and the bustles of students here to have fun and buy each other last minute Christmas gifts. But, of course, I can’t have anything nice as I round the corner from where I left Ron and Hermione in The Three Broomsticks I bump into a familiar blond. 

The sneer ever present on Draco’s face as he shoves me away from him, causing me to stumble and before I know it I’m on my ass in the not so pretty snow. I just shake my head, pushing myself up from the snowy ground, brushing the cold flakes clinging to my jeans. Draco’s mocking laughter fills the air, eyes narrow with distain as he looks down at me like I’m dirt under his shoe.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Weasley girl,” He sneers, tone dropping with derision, “As expected, stumbling through life like your family stumbles through poverty.” 

I take a deep breath, refusing to let Draco’s words bring me down, his little jabs always hurting but I’m never gonna let him see it so instead I meet his gaze with a defiant glare, sneering back, “Does your mother always look at you like she’s stepped in shit?” 

A flicker of something flashes across his face, but before I can decipher it he quickly regains his composure, “Watch your tongue, Weasley. You may think you're clever, but you'll always be just another insignificant blood traitor," he spits. 

I stand my ground, refusing to back down. "Oh, Draco, I would rather be a blood traitor than a heartless coward who hides behind his family name and pure-blood arrogance," I shoot back, my voice filled with determination. "At least I know the value of true friendship and the strength that comes from standing up for what's right. Something you'll never understand.” 

It all sounds so cliche and stupid but the surrounding students watching the exchange have mixed expressions, some wearing smirks of satisfaction at my words while others hold their breath, waiting to see how Draco will respond. But before he can retort, a tall figure steps forward, silently wedging himself between Draco and me. It's Theodore Nott, his typically enigmatic expression softened with a touch of resolve. Without saying a word, he calmly places a hand on Draco's shoulder and pushes him away, creating a safe space for me to stand. However, he may have pushed a little too hard as Draco stumbles backwards, momentarily taken aback by one his best friends apposing him let alone standing up to him. 

Draco is tall but Theodore stands taller, an undeniable air of quiet confidence surrounding him. His raven black hair, somehow perfect tousled, frames his striking features, drawing attention to his piercing blue eyes that hold a depth of mysteries. There’s an intriguing allure about him, an enigma that seems to follow his every move. 

With a subtle gesture, Theodore motions for Draco to dare take another step closer, the weight of his actions speaking volumes. The surrounding students, captivated by the unfolding scene, exchange whispers and glances filled with admiration and surprise. 

Draco, shaken by the unexpected opposition from one of his closest friends, regains his composure. His pride wounded, he attempts to mask his disbelief with a haughty glare. However, the cracks in his facade are evident. It's a rare sight to witness someone challenge Draco, and the students relish in the spectacle, some fighting back grins of satisfaction and with one final sneer Draco turns on his heels and struts away. 

There’s a flicker of concern behind Theodore’s piercing blue eyes as they shift their focus to me, a genuine care that sets my heart at ease. With a gentle smile, he takes a step closer, his voice resonating with a warmth that catches me off guard. 

“Are you alright?” Theodore’s voice, smooth and velvety, reaches my ears like a soothing melody. I think it’s the first time I’ve truly heard him speak, and there’s a captivating timbre to his words - a perfect harmony of confidence and tenderness. I find myself momentarily entranced by his presence, the way he effortlessly brushes a bit of snow out of my hair, his touch sending a gentle shiver down my spine. 

With a grateful smile, I reply, “Thank you Teddy, let me buy you a drink to make up?” The air around us seems to hold a certain electricity, a shared moment that lingers in the wintry atmosphere.

Theodore’s eyes widen slightly and I’m not sure if it’s at my offer or the fact I called him ‘Teddy’ without thinking about it, but either way, surprise mingles with the lingering warmth in his gaze. A hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as he considers my proposition and after a moment of silent contemplation he’s nodding and accepting my invitation. 

“Teddy?” He asks quietly, almost shyly, as we turn back and head towards The Three Broomsticks, the thoughts of Butterbeer already warming the chill working its way into my bones. A soft blush creeps up my cheeks as I meet his gaze, finding comfort int he genuine warmth radiating from him. 

“Yes, Teddy,” I respond with a gentle nod, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “If that’s okay with you? It feels right.” The admission carries a sense of vulnerability, as if I’m opening a door to something new, embracing the familiarity that seems to have effortlessly blossomed between us. 

A genuine smile spreads across Theodore’s face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he mumbles, “I like it.” There’s a softness in his expression as he speaks, a subtle shift in demeanour that draws me closer both physically and emotionally. I’m bumping shoulders with him lightly as he pushes open the door to The Three Broomsticks for me. 

The air is thick with the aroma of freshly brewed Butterbeer, mingling with the comforting scent of wood and fireplaces. The low ceiling is adorned with an array of floating lanterns, casting a soft, golden glow that dances upon the polished wooden floors. The walls are adorned with aging tapestries and moving portraits that I still can’t get used to, having been introduced to the magical world when the Weasley’s adopted me just after my 9th birthday. 

The tavern is filled with a harmonious blend of laughter and chatter, the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of magical fireworks, probably from some new toy Fred and George have created, punctuating the joyful atmosphere. The patrons, a mix of Hogwarts students and locals, gather in small groups at the wooden tables, engaged in animated conversations or enjoying a game of Wizarding chess. 

Madam Rosmerta moves with grace behind the bar, effortlessly serving Butterbeer and other magical drinks. Her warm smile and friendly banter create an inviting atmosphere, making everyone feel right at home. 

We make our way to the small table indicated by Madam Rosmerta, and as we settle down, Theodore takes the seat beside me. His presence is comforting, his arm casually draped over the back of my chair. It's a subtle gesture, yet it carries an intimacy that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through my veins. As he lean in closer to hear me other over the lively ambiance of the pub, Theodore's head ducks down, his voice a soft murmur that tickles my ear. The proximity between us feels both exhilarating and comforting, like a secret shared between kindred spirits. In the midst of the bustling crowd, we create our own little world, cocooned in the warmth of our connection. The laughter and conversations of the other patrons blend into the background, fading away as our focus rests solely on each other. 

“You’re so beautiful.” The pads of his fingers brush lightly over my jaw, sending my face aflame as it’s something so unexpected and something so right. His voice is deep and full of genuinely which isn’t expected from Slytherins. Before either of us can say or do anything else Madam Rosmerta approaches with our drinks, a tray of steaming Butterbeer and a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Theodore’s hand moving away from me, his touch fleeting, but it sends a jolt of electricity through my fingertips, leaving me craving more. With a grateful smile, we accept our drinks, the frothy liquid adding a touch of sweetness to the atmosphere. The taste of the warm Butterbeer dances on my tongue, mirroring the warmth that spreads within me whenever Theodore's eyes meet mine. 

With Madam Rosmerta’s retreating figure a sense of anticipation lingers in the air. I feel Theodore’s gaze intensify, his eyes fixed on mine with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Without a word, he captures my jaw between his thumb and forefinger, guiding me gently toward him. 

Time seeming to stand still as our lips meet in a surprising yet delicate kiss. The world around us fading away, leaving only the soft press of his lips against mine, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. It’s a kiss filled with unspoken promises and raw vulnerability. It has me melting into his strong presence, my body instinctively leaning closer. His touch both electrifying and gentle, as if he’s holding me with the utmost care. The taste of butterbeer lingering on his tongue adds to the intensity of the kiss, drawing an embarrassing sound from me. 

As the kiss comes to an end, both of us breathless and wide-eyes, a hint of surprise flickers across Theodore’s features. He stammers, voice laced with a touch of flustered apology, “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…” 

But, before he can finish his sentence, I’m silencing him with another kiss, my lips pressing against his with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. It’s my way of telling him that he doesn’t need to apologise, a soft sigh escaping me when he brings a hand up to cup my jaw as the kiss ends just as sweetly. I’m whispering softly, voice a blend of relief and affection, “I’m glad you like me Teddy. I’m surprised you even see me.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” His vice is low, eyes searching mine, a myriad of emotions swirling within them, thumb caressing my cheek as he leans closer, lips barely brushing mine and he murmurs four words that leave me speechless: 

“I’ve always seen you.” 

-----------

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[multifandomfanficss]

A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: When Egon finds out you’ve been having nightmares all week, he decides to find a way to help you by conducting a sleep study.

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and insomnia.

A/N: This is GN!Reader with no pronouns specified. The Egon brainrot is so real so please enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent fic I wrote to the cope with my work stress induced nightmares. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You woke up breathing heavy, in a cold sweat. You hear quick, clumsy footsteps running through the hallway of the firehouse. At first you’re confused. You’re still out of it and you’re scared. Suddenly Egon is busting through your doorway. His glasses are crooked, his pj shirt is buttoned incorrectly, the buttons not matching the holes. He has a proton pack slung over his back. He must have been in a hurry to get to you.

“Are you okay?! I heard you scream.” He looks at you with confusion. “I thought one of the ghosts had breached the containment unit.”

“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.” You apologize, still trying to collect yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“Oh.” He looks at you sadly, taking off his proton pack. He sits on the bed, straightening out his glasses. The bed dips, shifting you towards him.

“I apologize for my appearance and demeanor. I was under the impression you were in danger.” He looks down at his shirt, fixing his buttons.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You say, sheepishly.

“No, don’t be.” He draws out the o on the no, speaking softly, inflecting his tone upwards to try to bring you comfort. He gives you a soft smile, to match his tone.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Egon isn’t quite sure what to say, but you don’t mind. Despite his awkwardness, he was still deeply comforting.

“I forgot to ask. Are you okay?” He breaks the silence.

“Not really. I’ve been having nightmares all week.” You begin to fidget with a string on your blanket.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you say something?” He asks.

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone.” You shrug your shoulders.

“You’re living in a building with several scientists who care about your well being. I assure you that you wouldn’t be bothering us. We could have helped you. You should have at the very least spoken to Peter. His concentration is psychology.” Egon tried not to lecture you, but he was confused as to why you were suffering alone instead of asking for help. He didn’t like to see you in pain.

“I guess I thought I should be able to deal with it on my own.” You avoid eye contact. Egon finally puts the pieces together. It wasn’t always easy for him to read social que’s, but he could read his friends easily enough.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. They could be caused by a number of reasons. Typically mine are caused by stress, but I’ve since figured out how to get a handle on them through scientific means. Where they used to be constant, they’re now more rare for me.” He sympathizes.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares like that. I’m sorry.” You respond.

“They’re handled.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to conduct a sleep study on you starting tomorrow night, with your consent of course.”

“Do you really think it’ll help?” You look at him, desperate for an answer to your problem.

“Yes. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow night, but do you need anything before I go?” He asks.

“Can I please have a hug?” You request. Usually you’d be embarrassed, but right now you didn’t care. Egon had been the greatest comfort you’d had in the last several nights.

“Of course.” He smiles, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. The hug is awkward at first, but you both relax into it. He’s warm and his pajama shirt is soft. While Egon’s presence is always calming, his steady breathing and heartbeat do wonders to bring you back to a more relaxed state. He begins to rub your back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and just remember you’re not alone.”

————————————————————————

The next night you’d shown up to Egon’s lab as requested. You’re surprised to see he’s set up a cot with your favorite blankets and pillows. He was nothing if not observant.

“I gathered some things from your room in an effort to make you more comfortable.” He speaks, walking around the room, pressing buttons and moving things around.

“Thank you.” You smile. You sit down on the bed and Egon begins to fit wires to your forhead.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your chest.

“Um yes- yeah uh that’s okay.” You blush. Egon moves your shirt over and attaches wires over your heart. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really. Do you need anything before you go to sleep? Can I get you a glass of water?” He asks.

“No, but can you explain how it’s gonna work again?” You lay down, attempting to get comfortable.

“While you’re asleep I should be able to see any changes in heart rate, breathing patterns, or brainwave activity. I can collect all the data I need and all you have to do is sleep.” He explains.

“Seems simple enough.” You give him a smile, despite your nerves.

Egon leaves the observation area and the lights dim. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

About 2 hours into the study Egon starts to notice a rapid elevation in heart rate and your breathing becomes heavier and inconsistent. He scribbled down notes, watching your brainwave patterns until you shoot up gasping. You start to pull at the wires attached to you, not remembering why they’re there. Egon enters the room with his journal and pen in hand. He approaches your bed.

“You’re okay. You’re in my lab, remember? I have to say that was quite interesting. How long did it feel like you were stuck in that nightmare?” He asks.

“Uh I- I don’t know, like hours?” You debate, trying to catch your breath.

“You were asleep for about 2 hours, but you only entered REM state about 15 minutes ago, which is when you started dreaming.” He takes down more notes.

“Only 15 minutes?” You ask, your voice and body shakey. Egon pulls a chair up to sit next to you. He lays his journal on your bed and takes your hand in his. He begins to feel your pulse. You instantly start to calm by his touch. He’s observant of this. He decides to keep holding your hand even after he’s done checking your pulse in an effort to keep you calm. He writes with one hand and holds your hand with the other.

“Can you tell me a bit about the dream?” He asks.

“I was alone in the firehouse and the containment unit broke and I was being chased by a demon. I woke myself up before it caught me.” He gives you a look. On one hand he feels bad that you were so scared, but on the other hand he’s intrigued.

“How did you wake yourself up?” He asks.

“I have like this thing I do if I need to escape a dream. I feel like I’m pushing and pulling and clawing my way out of reality, like I’m trying to swim through molasses until I wake up.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing. From my end your adrenaline spiked enormously. I didn’t realize you were doing that on purpose.” He scribbles down some more notes.

“Yeah. I guess that’s a thing I do.” You say awkwardly. “Did you get anything useful?” You ask.

“Yes, but I’ll have to run more tests throughout the week.” He closes his journal, turning to you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand. He doesn’t let go. He was so excited by the scientific aspects of the experiment he forgot why he was doing this in the first place. “We’re going to figure this out, but until then I’m here.” He smiles at you, giving you a look of sympathy.

————————————————————————

The next two nights went similarly to the first one. You would have nightmare and Egon would remind you everything was okay before sitting down next to you to take notes as you recounted the dream. Your dreams were often about being chased or not being able to save someone. You would usually use your emergency escape out of your dreams. Talking about your dreams helped. It gave you an outlet and it aided Egon’s studies. The two of you had fallen into a routine and it was starting to help.

Tonight was different. Egon watched as your heart rate spiked and your breathing patterns began to change. Your brain activity was off the charts. He knew you’d be up soon. He watched as you tried and failed to pull the emergency break. You begin to thrash in bed. He wonders why you haven’t woken up. He enters the room just in time for you to shoot up screaming and covered in sweat. You begin to hyperventilate, crying out. “Egon!” You cry for him. Tears start to stream down your face. He runs to your bed.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Everything is okay, (Y/N).” Egon tries to keep his voice calm, but he speaks with urgency. He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to ground you. You can’t get your breathing under control.

“I- I couldn’t get out! I couldn’t get out! I was stuck and I couldn’t get out!” You’re speaking a mile a minute.

“(Y/N), look at me. You’re awake now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you. I need you to try to breathe with me. (Y/N), what’s three things that you can see?” He asks, trying to bring your focus back to reality.

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

“Yes, you can. What’s three things you can see?” He repeats.

“I see your journal. It’s in the chair.” You try.

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

“Your pen is on the floor.” You continue.

“I dropped it when I rushed in to check on you. What’s two things you can hear?” He asks.

“The clock is ticking really loudly and- and I can hear… the heater is on.” You tell him, listening closely.

“Good. What’s one thing you can touch?” He asks.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He smiles. You grab his hand, beginning to trace all the lines and wrinkles on it. You learn every detail of his fingerprints. Tracing the indents and following the patterns comforts you.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just having one of those moments where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what‘s fake. I woke up from a nightmare, but it was just another nightmare. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a dream inside of a dream before. I thought that was just in movies.” You keep tracing his hand.

“No, it’s real unfortunately, but so am I and so are you. This is real.” He gestures between you. Part of himself means that the two of you are real and your interaction is real, but another part of him meant something different. The care you have for each other is real too, very real.

“I hate that I’m still tired. I don’t wanna go back to sleep, but I know I have to.” You sigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed in here with you?” He asks. While he’d usually be too awkward to ask this, his solution is based in science. All of his research points to his presence being a comfort. This gave him more confidence.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You hope you’re not being an inconvenience.

“If I minded I wouldn’t have offered. I want you to feel like you’re not alone.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I think that would help me a lot actually.” You start to shift, laying back down in bed. Egon gets up to turn the light back off, kicking off his shoes and lab coat before getting back into bed with you.

“I figured it might.” He smiles. He always loved when his scientific theories were proven right, especially one that benefited both of you so much. It brought both of you comfort to be in each other’s arms. Egon’s presence was enough for you to sleep soundly for the rest of the night and he was happy to know that you felt safe and calm. Even if it was only a temporary solution to your problems, it was still a pretty damn good solution.

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

[deesblanketfort]

Sick and regressed ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶ 

Well, while I'm writting this I'm bedridden (likely with covid), and for some reason I really want to spend my sick days regressed and take something good out of it at least.

Getting comfy!

🧦: Pajamas time! Is there anything more regressor-coded than cozy printed pajamas, an animal kigurumi or onesie? I'd say no. And since I'm staying on bed, I'm surely wearing those all day long.

🛏️: Bed setup! When you're bedridden, a bed table ends up being really useful in case you want to do stuff that requires a flat surface. If you have one of those, lucky you! I, however had to improvise with a smooth wooden board standing on my lap, therefore any kind of long, resilient and flat surface can do the job just fine.

🧦: Blanket fort! Alternatively, if you're able to roam around your house or have someone to help, you can build a blanket fort over your bed or a comfy surface to stay in!

🛏️: Sick gear! Runny nose? Bring tissues. Got a fever? Make a cold damp towel for your forehead. Tummy aches or localized pain? Make a hot water compress. And make sure to keep track of the meds you're taking, of course.

🧦: Get your plushies! Since what I got is very contagious close contact with anyone is out of the table, but my stuffies are completely immune to sickness and ready to cuddle! (I'll have to wash them afterwards to disinfect them though)

Games and activities!

🎮: Viddy games! Either on computer, phone or a console (handheld preferred), videogames are perfectly stationary and don't require much movement from your part.

🖍️: Table games! Table games are also stationary and can be played right from your bed if you have a bed table, although most games need other people to play with you, your plushies can serve this purpose.

🎮: Play pretend! Playing pretend can be limited when you're bedridden, but there are some scenarios you're perfectly able to do! Such as pretending you're a shop owner and your stuffies are the clients, pretending your stuffies are your doctors/nurses taking care of you, or vice versa. Things like tea parties and pretend schools are still on the table!

🖍️: Arts and crafts! Being sick won't stop me from wanting to draw and color, since I can do it from my bed anyways! Aside from drawing and coloring, I might as well do some collage and paper craft, just might need help to clean up afterwards.

🎮: Cartoon time! No better opportunity to (re)watch your favorite cartoons than when you're sick, bedridden and bored, right? And since this brings me comfort, here are some cartoon episodes that center on being sick: Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound (Bluey), Steve Gets The Sniffles (Blues Clues), Bear Flu (We Bare Bears), Doctor Daisy M.D (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse), Arthur's Chicken Pox (Arthur)

Snack time!

🍼: Hot drinks! Specially if you're with a cold or a sore throat in general, hot drinks such as hot cocoa and tea are perfect for warming up an icky throat.

🧁: Spices for a sore throat! Like mint, honey, ginger and lemon. I'm sure there's plentiful of drinks you can make using these!

🍼: Give preference to healthy snacks and meals! Like fruits and veggies, yogurt, noodles, soup or sandwiches. Bonus points if they're arranged in a fun shape (animal, plant, star, etc)!

🧁: Keep your appetite in check! It's pretty common to lose your appetite when sick, therefore I'd say it's ideal to keep your meals smaller (and sometimes eat more often) than usual.

Taking care of yourself!

🧸: Stay hydrated! Water is always good, and if you're sick you likely need it more than usual, drinking from sippy cups, baby bottles, straw cups or any kind of fun themed cup is usually more fun and encouraging than boring adult cups.

🧶: Keep your temperature in check as well! Besides from checking if you have a fever ever so often, it's also good to keep yourself warm with blankets and heating if your body feels cold, or alternatively, turning on fans and using lighter sheets instead of blankets if you're too hot.

🧸: Beware the germs! If you got a contagious disease (like me), make sure to properly wash and disinfect anything you bring to your mouth such as pacis, teethers, bottles and cutlery before and after using them. Plus, it's important to wear a mask or ask others to wear a mask when near you as well.

🧶: Resting is key! Some of these days I'm too tired to do anything above, and I'd rather just nap the whole day, and that's okay! Sometimes being sick means not being able to do anything at all and it's important to have your extended napping time to get better.

[dreamerdeity]

𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐀'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐏𝐒

a/n: Really happy to be back on tumblr! College apps have been kicking my ass but it's getting better. Don't be shy to request a matchup, a fic, or a wip for Gaza! I'm also very sorry @tinysoulmentality for not including moodboards I had no time 😭

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ word count: 2k

Keira's Fundraising Event

███▒▒▒▒▒▒ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . @tinysoulmentality 's character matchup

Hi! Id like to request a matchup for jjk, bllk and aot. Im mexican and being connected to my culture is very important to me. I love reading dc comics and watching old slasher/horror movies. My favorite color is purple and my favorite holiday/time of year of Halloween. When it comes to relationships, the most important thing to me is being with someone that I know i can be myself with and that I dont have to worry about their loyalty towards me. Here are my donations and pls lmk if theres any other info you need !!!💜💜

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐌𝐀

Ino is an interesting little guy. He’s cute, but to say he has game would be like saying that cats can fly (handsome loser :3). When he first met you, he had to do a little double take because hold on a minute. Who’s that pretty lady? He casually walks up to you and blurts out a “You’re not from around here, are you?” ft. nervous voice crack that he manages to play off somehow. The question definitely elicits a few mental eye rolls from you. Typical male-tries-to-hit-on-foreign-girl one-liner, but he makes it… work? Maybe it’s the nervous flush on his cheeks, or the hand that sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, or the bright smile he musters up to mask the nerves. 

I like to think that Ino is a very cosmopolitan person. It’s not really that he’s traveled all around the world, but more so that he has varied likes and interests spanning many different cultures. He likes to listen to old-school hip-hop and reggaeton. He’s into Italian and Turkish dramas. He sleeps well at night knowing there’s an Indian restaurant and another Mexican one down the block that can curb his cravings for butter chicken and quesadillas. 

So, it’s no surprise that he’s quick to grab a throw pillow and get comfortable on the couch whenever you talk about your Mexican heritage. He doesn’t know much about Mexico apart from the fact that the food goes extremely hard, so he’s always enthusiastic to learn more about the other aspects that characterize your country and its people. 

He also tries to learn some Spanish to “surprise” you but then it’s literally just a “¡Buenos días!” enunciated really badly. There’s a proud smile on his face every time he greets you good morning in your mother tongue though, and it’s very endearing, to say the least. 

To add onto his culture vulture, cosmopolitan vibes, I think he’s also really into movies. The type to just drop a niche movie reference every two seconds and frown deeply when no one gets it. 

Watching horror movies with him is interesting because for some reason he thinks that abruptly grabbing your shoulders mid-movie and growling menacingly would jump-scare you into oblivion, but you’re used to the genre so all it does is make you eye him narrowingly, unimpressed, ready to tell him off for interrupting a very crucial plot development. 

For whatever reason, Ino gives me major horror-enjoyer vibes. He likes analog horror and you’re lucky Halloween is your favorite time of year because it’s his too! Watching The Prowler (i just really like this movie lol) under the blankets with warm, freshly-made popcorn and a pretty lady in his arms? Yeah, count him in. 

One last thing, sorry to be the one to say this, but Ino is definitely the “can you draw me” person whenever he sees your sketchbook or art in general. It’s all in good nature, and he wouldn’t mind it if you say no, but if you do draw or paint him, let’s just say that that drawing will be in his wallet for the rest of his life. Sometimes he’d just randomly pull it out when someone brings you up and proudly hold it up to his company like “Uhuh, my girl drew this. Yup.” 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐇𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐀

I think that, unlike Ino, Chigiri used to be less “out there” in the world in his youth and kept more to himself in terms of being an experiencer of cultural diffusion; It was how he was brought up. But after going pro and meeting many people, traveling to many different places etc, he’s been exposed to the world on a greater scale. That’s how he finds himself meeting you one day at a party. He was charming. Need I say more tbh? That hair, that gentlemanliness, that whole aura surrounding him is hard to resist. He knew just how to sweet-talk but actually meant every word he said. 

Chigiri is one wealthy man, let’s be honest. Pro footballer?  Mbappe in another font? Yeah. I think he genuinely enjoys spoiling and lavishing you with gifts if that’s your thing. 

He loves hearing you talk about your heritage and if you don’t live in Mexico, I feel like if you were to even remotely express that you’re kind of missing your country he’d immediately be like, “Then let’s book a 2 week stay and you can show me all those things you were telling me about.” No biggie. 

Would also rent out the entirety of Playa Sisal in advance because you mentioned (once. 1 [one] time. ) that you were looking forward to taking a dip come the vacation. 

I think that there’s this stigma surrounding footballers and how they’re a bunch of players who sleep around but don’t commit. While that may have some merit, Chigiri is different. Like, have you seen him? Not to mention that he has a sister. 

I feel like he values loyalty and genuine companionship as much as you do, and should you ever feel yourself questioning where you stand within his life, or whether he’s trustworthy, he would be so quick to reassure you and make you feel heard, basically quelling the doubts before they even surface. (Communicative king). 

On the note of communicative king, he’s very good at praise and voicing his appreciation. The sort to genuinely encourage your creative hobbies and praise you for any work you create. He would literally not mind building a home art studio for you to promote your love for art and writing. Like, “Oh, I saw you painting the other day and you didn’t look very comfortable at your desk. Thought I’d make you a little art corner,” he’d say as he sheepishly shows you the “art corner” in question which looks more like a state of the art professional studio. 

I think Chigiri himself is a very artistic person beneath the surface. He just gives off that vibe quite a bit. Picnics where you guys sit at the park and paint the scenery together? So him. 

Would post your art on social media (if you consent ofc!) to his 5 million+ followers and bring you business if you ever decide to open commissions. 

In terms of entertainment, Chigiri is the type to be so clueless when it comes to media because he just doesn’t have the time. Like you were shocked when he told you he never watched Star Wars. Sir, what do you mean?? 

It became your job to educate him on the vast world of entertainment, namely movies. He doesn’t really care what you pick as long as you’re happy. So when he’s got some free time on his hands, he’ll binge horror or DC/Marvel movies with you and even try to analyze the plot as it’s happening (don’t kill him please he’s just trying to show he’s interested). 

Would buy you merch of your favorite movies and get giddy when you wear it/decorate your room with it etc.

Lastly, I think Chigiri would sulk in the corner if you insist he let you dye his hair purple since it’s your favorite color, but he literally can’t say no to you, so eventually he yields reluctantly but shockingly, once all is said and done, he figures out he actually really like how purple looks on him. 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

I’m gunna be honest. I think it just makes sense for Levi to like you because black cat x orange cat trope?? Him and Hange? Him and the Eren gang in general? Yeah. 

Going by your mbti, I imagine you’re not very extroverted, and I think that’s something that genuinely makes Levi let out a sigh of relief sometimes. 

*glance at each other* You: “wanna leave this party?” Him: “You read my mind.”

If loyalty were a person, it would be this man. He shows it in the small things, I’d say: Leaving you short messages before he leaves for work every morning, bringing you things that remind him of you, etc. I feel like that would be his way of saying “I’ve got eyes for you only/I’m always thinking about you and you alone”. 

Levi is such a meanie on the surface and I find it kind of hilarious. Like, I think you guys would complete each other's snark and sarcasm and people would not know whether you two are joking or not meanwhile yall are just trying to bite back giggles. 

If I’m being honest, Levi doesn’t strike me as a very creative person. He seems more of a STEM sort of guy if we think of him in a modern au, so he doesn’t pay much mind to the arts as a field. 

That’s not to say he isn’t supportive of your creative endeavors of course. You know when parents have no idea how a sport you play works but they still passionately cheer at your games regardless? Yeah, that’s Levi with your art, writing, etc. It’s all impressive to him even if you don’t think so and he’ll make sure you know that. 

“I love this poem you wrote. You could be famous if you took this up professionally,” he’d say even if there was like a single sentence on the page. 

Would be the type to send you anything art or writing related he gets on his fyp like “yup, she’s definitely gonna love this/find it helpful”. 

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I think Levi is actually a film buff. There, I said it. Something about him strikes me as movie lover. He would be the type to drop a quote from some obscure movie from the 50s with a straight face in the most serious tone ever which makes it even funnier. 

So, when you two have some free time, he loves to watch things with you while cuddling on the couch. he’s the type to read the captions before the characters actually say them and it just spoils the scene for him, and then he’d sulk as if it’s your fault, but it’s cute. 

When you two are watching horror movies, he’s the type to tsk and mutter under his breath complaining about the costumes or about how if he were there he would’ve totally killed that demon in like two seconds.

[yerimbrit]

beam : r. sarang

synopsis: ryu sarang: the ultimate cuddlebug whom you cannot resist. (?)

# : pairing ! ryu sarang x 8th member!reader

# : tags ! reader's gender isn't specified, domestic fluff, it's all fluff really, extremely self indulgent, this is basically all of my thoughts but in a fic, ryu sarang we love you our dimple girl

# : wordcount ! 0.7k

# : warnings ! none

the one day you decided beforehand to wake up early and be productive, you find yourself trapped.

you try to squirm out of the arms of the intruder who probably snuck in last night, but you're trapped. trapped under someone's very warming, impossible-to-escape grasp.

who could it be? well, you can only think of one person—your fellow member of izna and lovely girlfriend—ryu sarang, that is. who else could it be? your roommate koko isn't one for crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. at least you hope she isn't.

once again attempting to get out of the arms holding you captive, the girl finally stirs awake and whines, only tightening her embrace.

you tap against her dainty hands with a sense of urgency, feeling your breaths shorten with each exhale. sarang loosens her grip, but doesn't let go.

"sarang..."

"no," the 'o' drags out, and an incoherent grumble follows, one which you can feel against your shoulder blade, "it's too early..."

that's true. it's six am, the sun only barely peeking out from the horizon, and its rays haven't made their way through your pink curtains yet. you're laying comfortably in bed, cooling blanket tossed messily over your (and your girlfriend's) torso.

there's no planned schedule, not for you, but the older members do—mai, jeemin, and jiyoon are attending an event later in the day as izna. you were planning on going on an early jog, stop by a newly opened bakery to buy some sweet delicacies for your members, then maybe continue working on lyrics for a song on the new album.

you successfully manage to turn around to face the girl, your hand reaching up to pinch her cheek. "when did you sneak in here?"

sarang scrunches up her nose, forcing you to resist the urge to pepper kisses all over her face in cuteness aggression. she fills your world with so much love (no pun intended) that you can't get enough of it; it's addicting. so addicting.

"i think maybe two am... i just felt like it," she mumbles, batting her eyelashes with a pout.

of course, because of how she's laying on her side, the effectiveness of her pout is amplified. having her do this right in front of you makes you melt, fighting a smile but ultimately failing in the end. "you're such a cutie."

sarang returns a smug dimpled smile of her own after seeing your struggle and hearing your comment. she's so pretty.

have you mentioned how perfect your girlfriend is? talented, passionate, charming, dimples. dimples? sorry, your other thoughts leaked in. ryu sarang is thee dimple girl, your girlfriend who is the cutest in the world and, no, no one can change your mind about that. not even puppies, because she also resembles one. it only adds to her cuteness.

regardless of your perfect girlfriend, you unfortunately have things to do today. an agenda that is not mandatory, but one you would rather not skip. "i have things to do, sarangie."

it's only after she hugs you closer that you're reminded of your situation: you're trapped in the unescapable embrace of ryu sarang. and now you're so close together that you can feel her breath fanning against your cheek. if you leaned in just a tiny bit closer you'd be able to give her sweet butterfly kisses.

"can't you do them later?" sarang frowns, her fingers lightly drawing nameless shapes onto your back. "it's so early."

yeah, it is. and you don't have any set times that you had to do the tasks that you had planned. her argument is completely valid, and a 'you lose' screen manifests in your mind.

"fine."

sarang blinks. "fine?"

"you win. let's go back to sleep." you surrender. saying no to sarang is a losing game, anyway.

your girlfriend grins in victory and swiftly pecks you on the lips. you wouldn't have known she'd kissed you if not for the lingering feeling on your mouth or her giggly mood promptly after—but you digress.

watching as sarang falls asleep rather quickly, the corner of your lips quirk up in content. you feel so lucky to have met her, and you feel even more lucky to be able to spend every next second, minute, and hour with her.

the peaceful rise and fall of her chest calms you, and you let your eyes fall shut. worrying about today's agenda can wait. worrying about everything can wait, debut, performances, photoshoots, whatnot.

you choose to bask in this moment, the sunrise shining through your pink curtains and your lovely girlfriend ryu sarang snoring lightly in front of you.

a/n : ryu sarang 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷🩷

[honey-minded-hivemind]

The lost episodes being more slow paced, filler like episodes with that have a strong vibe that something (or someone) is missing.

One episode is the younger members cleaning a bedroom in the mansion as punishment as it hasnt been used in a while and has a thich layer of dust and them getting distracted with all the cool and potentially dangerous stuff in there. Apparently, it's that mystery character's room, but, again, they never actually show up. Just have somber scene as everyone contemplates their friends, and someone mentions how much older they must be now. Reader think this character has good taste since the room looks very close to their own style ( and looks very familiar)

Another is that Jubilee (or another younger character) is hiding something in her closet, which is close to bursting. It's all these clothes given as gifts from the mystery character. But she's outgrown them and feels like awful that she's losing her connection to them, but she needs to get rid of them as she doesn'thave any space. It has a sweet message about letting go and always having someone in your heart, but Reader kinda wishes they got to see episodes of Jubilee wearing the clothes, they think they would have look good on her.

One episode is Xavier( or another adult) working himself near to death trying to find the character, and everyone worrying. It ends with a heavy hint of them being found as the adult stares into the screen with heavy relief. Reader swears their eyes dig into their soul.

Yes! I like it! I'll add a little to each one, if that's okay! (anyone who wants to add an idea for a filer episode, feel free to share your idea!) ( @thewickedweiner and @vivid-bun and @weebwholovesuchihasasuke!)

Episode One?: The younger characters stumble into a room that looks like it hasn't seen the light in years. A few posters line the walls, the bed has thick comforter and blankets in grays and brown and reds, there's old drawing books and classic literature on a nightstand, even a box of trinkets and a few clothes and items hidden in a closet. A thick layer of dust covers everything, causing several characters to sneeze. Some items are pretty cool, for example: fossilized clam shells, tumbled rocks, old books, animal feathers, shiny trinkets. And some are probably not as safe, such as: a knife they found, a notebook full of... it doesn't show... and a box full of old items that Logan and Morph are quick to tuck somewhere else. The characters mention some good old times, fighting alongside this mystery character, watching them grow, having fun outside of saving the day, old habits they had... They sound really cool to Reader, who notes their room is comforting, in shades that make them feel relaxed and at home, with items they'd find fascinating... Yet the episode is somber, with no one knowing where this character is or what happened to them, let alone if they're still alive... But it ens with the team promising to find them, and one or another putting things to rest, no matter what they find... (It leaves a sad feeling inside Reader, as well as a discomfort and feeling of dread...)

• Episode 12??: Jubilee is trying to hold onto the memory of the missing character or a friend of her's, but she can't hold onto the past forever. It's a needed message, one to help deal with grief amf moving on in a healthy way (or so Reader thinks). Jubilee has old clothes she can no longer wear, but were gifts from her friend, so she doesn't want to give them up. But she's reminded that her friend is still with her, and would want her to be okay, and that it's okay to move on, because they'll always be a part of you, always have a place in your heart. It's touching, making you smile a little, epically when the others comfort her...

• Episode 23???: What seems to be a final episode of the lost seasons (at least the first lost season, anyways) where Xavier and a few if the others have been working nonstop, trying to find this missing character, who's been mentioned the last season or two amd throughout the entire series, and everyone is afraid to hold onto that hope, wanting to either move on or run themselves ragged trying to find any trace of them... You watch with bated breath as the episode plays out, as various characters, even some villains or side characters, get involved... The team keeps trying to assure Xavier and each other they've done the best they can, that there's only so much they can do, that no one blame them for what happened- Amd then the last few minutes of the epsidoe depict a heavy hint that the characters found a clue, or that their friend was alive... and they were staring out at the screen again, as though they could see through it, too...

(I imagine a few episodes explore dealing with grief, guilt, and heavier emotions, while others show different places they've gone before with their missing friend, even a few where the villains or side characters get a day-in-the-limelight episode) (And some of what was in the box that Logan and Morph took, what was in the notebook, and a few hints as to what the missing character might have been like or little nicknames for them) (and Kevin is no help, playing the tapes whenever they're at the ReelTheatre, and jokes about not spoiling anything too early for Reader) (They walk Reader home one night, and are so glad to spend extra time with them!) (Bonus: some of the characters visit Reader or enter their home when they're asleep)

[mytheoristavenue]

Hey hon!

I have loved all the funny innuendos in your heatwave series and I was wondering if I could possibly request a Christmas version? You write it so well and I think it would be just hilarious! No worries if you aren’t interested. Just thought it would be cute! Hugs! 💚

Anything for you!

TMNT 12 Turtles x Reader - Cold front!

Summary: During a record low cold front, you find yourself being fought over for your warmth.

Warnings: mostly fluff, a few suggestive situations.

You shivered, pulling your jacket around your tighter, expelling a visible breath as you entered the lair. To your surprise, it was seemingly empty. Walking further into the living room, you called out to the boys, worried when you go no responses. Suddenly, a figure, cloaked in a fleece blanket popped up off the couch. "(Y/N), you're here!" Spinning around you found Mikey cuddled up on the sofa watching T.V. You giggled, coming around to sit with him. "Can I have your jacket?" he asked, crawling over to you and pleading.

"No, then I'll be cold." you replied with a guilty smile. He whined, plopping his head down onto your thigh to return his attention to the show he was consuming.

"Mmm..." he hummed softly. "So warm..." You laughed as he nuzzled your leg, latching onto it.

"I take it you're pretty cold if you think I'm warm."

"You are," he confirmed, snuggling closer to you, prompting your cheeks to dust a light pink. "My personal heater."

"Mikey..." you trailed off, feeling a bit suffocated.

Suddenly, you heard a voice grumbling down the hall, coming closer to the living room. "Damnit, Mikey! I told you to stay outta my room!" Raph's gruff voice complained. "Gimme back my extra blanket- oh, (Y/N), you're here."

"It would seem so," you snickered.

The irritated turtle sighed, finding that you were also using his blanket, deciding he didn't have the heart to take it away. Quickly, his mood changed, and he darted back to his bedroom, returning with an old comforter. With a smug grin, he came to sit on your left, throwing it over the two of you, before cozying up against you, without any warning or permission. "Raph," you stated. "What are you doing?"

"You're the warmest thing in this whole damn house, and I'm gonna get me some of that." You blushed shyly as the brothers began to argue over the fact that the older was only sharing his blanket with you. You couldn't be bothered to listen, you were too focused on how close they both were to you and the heat that was circulating beneath all the fabric of their covers.

As the argument seemed to draw to a close, you began to feel everything shift. Suddenly, you were pushed forward into a stand, and both turtles rearranged themselves on the couch. Before you could put two and two together, you were pulled down into Raph's lap, his arms snaking around your securely. Mikey filled the was of draping the comforter over the both of you, before layering the fleece throw on top. After every thing was said and done, he shimmied underneath the covers, snuggling into your doughy right side.

You sat frozen, enveloped in warm and presence. "Why...?" was the only response you could find as you peered up into Raph's lime eyes.

"Oh, Mikey wanted some of my blanket, but it's not big enough for all of us, so he said I could sit behind you and warm up that way, in exchange for most of the covers." he explained so matter of factly.

You were astonished to say the least. "Okay, but I wasn't his to barter with?" you scolded, only to be interrupted by the sound of the lab doors opening and shutting.

You watched as Donnie trudged out, looking as if he hadn't slept in years. "Temp's 'sposed to drop again tonight," he yawned groggily before glancing over at the huddle on the sofa. "Oh, good, (Y/N), you got my text." Just as the others had, he supplied his own blanket, a quilt with coffee stains. He sleepily walked over to the cushioned ottoman in the center of the room. "Feet up," he ordered as he pushed it flush against the couch where your legs had been. With that, he curled up on it, making himself comfortable as he rested his head in your lap, laying between your plush thighs.

You were unable to hold in your discomfort at this point. You were being used as a human heating pad and no body seemed to care. When Donnie had texted you and asked you to come over, you had not sighed up for this! "Is anybody going to explain to me what's going on!?" you squealed under the mountain of soft materials and scaly skin.

"We're cold," Mikey whined, nuzzling your side even more so.

"And you're warm," Raph added, squeezing your torso contently.

"Actually, it's a little more complicated than that, but that's the gist." Donnie corrected, his words falling against the denim of your jeans. "When turtles get cold, they don't go into hibernation like other amphibians, but we do tend to get," he paused, as if on que to yawn before continuing. "Pretty sluggish, and once when find something warm, we conjugate around that." he finished elaborating, glancing up at your still puzzled face with annoyance. "You're our warm thing."

You couldn't stop the glow in your cheeks as you felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to keep the boys warm can comfortable. You notice Donnie shift in your lap to lay on his shell, hoisting his phone above his face as he texted.

"Thank God," a final exhausted voice called form the entrance to the dojo, accompanied with the sound of it slamming shut. Leo slinked over to the end of the couch, wordlessly collapsing on your left. His leg was thrown across you, his blanket wrapped around him as he latched onto you arm, already nearly asleep. You sighed, now that your dog pile was finally complete, and let your head fall against the front of Raph's shell, nuzzling him as you began to feel tired yourself.

This cold front was due to last several days, and there was no place you could think of that would be more cozy that right here with your favorite boys.

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @hyunonion

[quietblueriver]

Because I couldn’t get this out of my mind, some Southern Gothic fluff. Very minor spoilers for last night’s ep but this is almost entirely just them being soft witches in love.

-

Her hair is a tangled mess. It has been since that shitshow with the dead Paragon’s Call fuckers, but she’s had other things to worry about—ghost pirates and FCG and parleys and, if she’s honest, her girlfriend’s tits, which had caused her brain to stop in its tracks at least half a dozen times since Laudna had declared that she was “bringing out the girls” to help their cause.

Now, though, after an hour-long game of rollies she escaped only because Fearne flirted her way into the bony lap of her opponent, she’s staring at the results of Laudna’s attempt at braiding.

Her reflection winces back at her as she tries to untangle what she can with her fingers, turning her head side to side to take stock of the damage. She’s gonna need a comb.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck it.”

“Alright, darling?”

Imogen looks up from where she has been wrestling with a knot to find Laudna in the doorway, crooked, concerned smile on her face as she hefts a small stack of blankets that they must have managed to scrounge up between the ship and their stock in the hole. Her top is still arranged for ghostly seduction, and Imogen lets her eyes wander appreciatively. Again.

She finds suddenly that she could give a shit about the comb stuck in her hair and pulls it, and a chunk of purple she doesn’t let herself think too hard about out (she’s been bald for fuck’s sake; what’s a little hair loss for love?), tossing them onto the small barrel by the mirror.

Three steps and she’s taking the blankets and cupping Laudna’s sharp jaw, kissing her softly in greeting. Laudna’s little sigh, the small, surprised noise she makes almost every time they do this, makes Imogen’s stomach flip as it always does, and she leans into the kiss, deepens it and then pulls away, drawing a whine.

“Hey there.” She lifts the pile of blankets. “Looks like y’all found some.”

“Yes.” Laudna clears her throat, face that deeper shade of purple Imogen tries to bring out as often as she can, and Imogen smirks, smug as can be, until Laudna rolls her eyes at her. “Oh, hush.”

“Don’t know what you mean, Laud. I didn’t say a word.”

“Your face said plenty, thank you.”

Imogen grins and kisses her again before turning to toss the blankets onto the bed.

“Can’t say I’m sorry ‘bout it.” She turns back and lets her eyes trail purposefully down Laudna’s neck, stopping at her chest and staying there. “It’s been real hard to focus today. Nice knowin’ I can fluster you a little, too.”

Laudna laughs disbelievingly, and Imogen raises an eyebrow.

“You sayin’ you wouldn’t have trouble focusin’ if I…” She undoes a button and Laudna’s dark eyes focus in on her fingers. “What did you call it? Bring out the girls?”

Her eyes are still pinned to Imogen’s hands, and she undoes another button, because she likes it when Laudna looks at her like this, wants Laudna to look at her like this, and there’s no reason now to pretend she doesn’t.

She offers a gloating, teasing, “Laud?”

Black eyes snap up, and she smirks again when Laudna pouts at her even as she flushes that pretty color. “Yes, well. There’s a bit more there to admire, dear, isn’t there?”

She’s working on this. On Laudna moving beyond a blustering veneer of self-confidence and learning to see herself at least a little bit like Imogen sees her. It’s not exactly a hardship, letting Laudna know how beautiful she is. The chiding voice inside her head had already shifted over the months before the market in Jrusar, moving from “she’s your best friend, Imogen” to “don’t ruin this, Imogen” to “it’s not the time, Imogen.” (She doesn’t think about the days when the voice had been nothing but a raging, screaming thing. She’d answered its call. She’d gotten her back.) Now, the voice says only, “Show her.”

So she does. She’s back in Laudna’s space quickly, hands gentle but sure as they make a home on her waist, and she catches her eye seriously, holds it.

“No, baby, I don’t think there is.” When Laudna’s smile wobbles into place, the quirk of her lips small but genuine, Imogen flexes her fingers and presses her own lips to the skin of Laudna’s neck, letting her tongue tease skin as she says, “Wanna show you how much I admire you later, if you want.” She pulls back with a graze of her teeth, and Laudna brings her hands around Imogen’s shoulders and kisses her with purpose, mumbling, “Yes, please,” as she winds her hands up into Imogen’s hair.

It’s then that she remembers the state of it, hissing as Laudna’s fingers get caught in a tangle. They’re gone instantly, as is the heat of the moment, Laudna’s cool palms cupping her cheeks as she apologizes and checks for injury, eyes roaming over Imogen’s scalp.

“I’m sorry, darling. Are you…” Fingers move back to her hair then, gently exploring, and Laudna bites her lip. “Oh dear. It’s my fault.”

Imogen doesn’t shake her head, doesn’t want to dislodge the hand still on her cheek, but she says, dismissive, “Nah. Just a long day. Quick comb and I’ll be right as rain.”

The purse of her lips tells Imogen exactly what she thinks of that explanation.

“It really is no big deal.” She turns her head to kiss gray skin, the smallest tang of ichor on her lips as she licks them distractedly and fights the urge to go back for more.

“Can I…would you mind if I…” Gentle black nails trace the skin of her temple as she tucks a lock of hair, blessedly free of knots, behind her ear. “Would you like help brushing it out?” She adds hastily, before Imogen even has a chance to breathe out her obvious and immediate yes. “I understand if not. After all, it is my fault it’s like this in the first place.” Her mouth is pulled tight at the corners, eyes squinted in worry, and Imogen places a kiss at the corner of one, stretched onto her toes to reach.

“Thanks. That would be great.”

Laudna is, of course, gentler than Imogen would ever be with herself. She produces some herbs from somewhere, busying herself at the basin before she returns. They’re far enough away from the others that she doesn’t think much before she takes off the circlet, sitting it gently on the table near the bed and sighing into the sound of Laudna’s thoughts, the musical hum of them.

“I could work around it, darling.”

It’s nice, hearing you. If you don’t mind.

Laudna’s smile reaches across her face, delighted, and Imogen feels it, stomach flipping at the surge of affection. I love having you here. Stay as long as you’d like.

She kisses her then, chaste with the barrier of their smiles, before situating herself on the floor. As it turns out, it’s too fucking cold, so Imogen reclines, propped between Laudna’s knees on the bed, which is much better anyway. The angle is a little awkward but they mess around with a few pillows and blankets until it works, and then Laudna’s hands are in her hair, gently working whatever she made through tangles.

“Smells good.”

Laudna hums, pleased. “Rosemary.”

“Mmm.”

She gets lost for a bit, in the feel of Laudna’s fingers on her scalp, the rhythm of the brush, the lilt of her thoughts. She lets them wash over her, beautiful but fleeting, and avoids processing details as much as she can.

Laudna is so gentle with Imogen, whispered apologies with every knot, occasional internal rebukes loud enough to break through the general flow of her thoughts. Imogen soothes those as best she can, stopping the brush to plant a kiss on Laudna’s wrist, a none of that, darlin’ paired with the press of her lips. It seems to work, mostly, thoughts of gratitude that Imogen doesn’t deserve but doesn’t challenge for the moment replacing the self-criticism.

Imogen wonders, not for the first time, what Laudna’s life would’ve been like if she’d been given all the love she deserved right from the start. She thinks of a little girl who never learned to braid, lonely and strange and kinder than anyone deserved. Beautiful and familiar.

Imogen can’t help her, but she can love Laudna. She will love Laudna.

“You know,” she says, eyes closed and as casually as she can, “I could teach you how to braid. If you’re interested.”

The rhythm of the brush stops just for a moment before it continues, Laudna’s voice, small, answering, “I think I’d like that. Thank you.”

She reaches back for a hand, kisses knuckles and fingertips until Laudna is giggling and then she presses her mouth to palm, to deep purple veins on a fragile and perfect inner wrist.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” she says as she tilts her head back to catch deep black eyes. “I think you’ll look real pretty with a braid.”

Laudna blushes, catches Imogen’s fingers and brings them to her own mouth, drops a cool kiss to the back of her hand. Imogen closes her eyes again as Laudna resumes brushing and relaxes into the bed beneath her.

[selkies-and-cycles]

The castle’s infirmary is quiet today.

The main physician sits at their desk, scribbling away some new kind of prescription, while the royal consort sits in a nearby chair, tongue stuck out in concentration. They hold a notebook up on their curled-up knees, reaching for a green pigment to add to their drawing. They’d come to help Morien organize some deliveries, but now that that was done, they’d taken to absentmindedly doodling in the quiet.

Eventually, Cuáine deems the drawing finished and gets up, sidling over to the physician’s desk.

"Look, it's you." Cuáine slides over the piece of paper with a small, teasing smile.

On the paper scrap is a doodle- almost childish, with how cartoony it is- of a seal with big green eyes staring up at Morien from the paper. The whiskers framing the eyes are overexaggerated to give it a little grumpy face- as grumpy as a cartoon seal can be, at least, and one flipper lies over a long, rounded cane with a green ribbon around it.

Morien blinks.

"...You drew me. As a seal." They state, deadpan. Their eyes drift over to Cuáine's expectant face, expression unnervingly blank.

Cuáine nods. Then, as the seconds tick on, they suddenly remember where and who they are.

They are no longer the laughing child on the coast of Venegard’s territory, pointing out seals playing on the rocky shore to their older brother. Their eyes no longer carry the bright-eyed brilliance they had been named after, the one that would make their parents ruffle their hair when presented with silly doodles.

Times had changed- those happy moments were undermined by the much clearer memories of when Cuáine had tried to talk to their parents or show them a pretty rock found down at the shore, only to be waved off for another time that never came. Osia called it stupid, really- low effort, not worth calling a ‘gift’ when a 5 year old could make something better.

Maybe a child could, but the intent had been pure- now, Cuáine just stares down at their silly scrap of paper with a sour taste in their mouth. This probably seemed stupid to Morien too.

"...Nevermind. If you think it's stupid, you can tell me." Their hand moves towards the scrap of paper on the physician's desk, fingers shaking slightly. "It's just supposed to-"

"No, no, it's-" Morien waves them off, and Cuáine's hand falls away. "-not. I was just... surprised. Doesn't seem very 'nobleborn battlemage' of you to do." They grumble, seeming almost defensive now as Cuáine lingers awkwardly by the side of their desk.

Cuáine hesitates, then says, "Well, I'm not many of the things I should be." They seem to think for a moment, then sidle closer, half-sitting on the edge of Morien's desk. They wait, taking the physician's half-glare as a sign to get off, but Morien doesn't say anything. So they relax, still being careful to put most of their weight on their ground foot.

Morien continues to write something down in their notebook, and Cuáine hums, going to twist their armlet.

“...I wasn’t aware you liked seals so much.”

Morien’s comment is quiet, and Cuáine would have almost missed it if it weren’t for the heavy silence blanketing the infirmary. For a moment, the royal consort blinks, unsure how to respond.

…They actually want to talk to me?

A small smile tugs at their lips, one of their ringed fingers tapping against the desktop. “I’ve loved them since I was a child. It’s rather an amusing story, actually. My parents have always lamented that they didn't name me ‘little seal’ Ronán, for how much I ended up loving them." Cuáine laughs lightly, shifting their gaze over to the little window that lets some light into the infirmary. "Apparently my father was of the opinion that the name was 'too common', so imagine his surprise when his seventh came out and eventually had to be dragged away from watching seals play on the shore. The, uh, doodling them-” Cuáine gestures again to the small seal drawing with a somewhat flushed expression, “-came from messin’ around with Saraah. It got to a point tha’ when I considered changing my name a couple times, he suggested I go with Ronán. I didn’t, obviously, but…”

“Hm.” Morien continues writing something down on a nearby pad of paper, and Cuáine has to resist the urge to be nosy and peek. They oddly aren’t meeting Cuáine’s face, but maybe they’re just focused? “Speaking of family, didn’t you say earlier that you had a meeting with Arthur and the council?”

Cuáine’s swinging leg stills, and they immediately swear, dark blonde hair swinging past their face when they jump off the desk. “Shit, I forgot about that! Thanks Morien!” They grab their bag and immediately dash out the infirmary door, but not without giving one last grateful wave to the physician.

As the door to the infirmary slams shut, Morien waits until the footsteps of the king's spouse have fully faded away before doing anything, including looking back down at the childish seal doodle.

"...Fuck." Morien murmurs, burying their face in their hands. It's the only way to successfully counteract their burning cheeks. "They might as well just fuckin’ stab me through the heart if they're gonna keep bein' this fuckin' cute."

Cuáine visits again only a few days later.

“Morien?”

When their knock and call go unanswered, they peek inside. Surprisingly, the infirmary is empty, devoid of its usual red-headed physician.

Perhaps Morien just had to go to the bathroom?

Regardless, Cuáine is here to drop off some herbs they gathered. They nudge the door open, walking over to the desk to drop the bundles off. Out of curiosity, green eyes stray to the mess of papers pinned to the wall’s cork board.

There, nestled among the notes for needed medicinal herbs, prescriptions and schedules, a small needle pins a little seal doodle to the wall.

Cuáine doesn’t quite believe it.

…Morien actually kept it?

Despite themself, Cuáine can feel a small grin curling their lips as they reach for another scrap of paper and lead pencil.

When Morien comes back, they find a package of herbs on the table and a new scrap of paper pinned to the wall- one with another seal doodled on it, holding a tiny knife in one flipper and a scar across its abdomen.

Look! It’s you n’ me.

(Eventually, the collection grows to include a seal with a crown, two with knightly armor, one with a long black braid, and a seal pup with tiny dragon wings, but the first two remain pinned together.)

---

(Morien and the setting belong to @the-kingshound!)

[hoeforalbedo]

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 2

———————— ♱ ————————

WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

Note: This story is heavily inspired by Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and honestly I was going to write a story like that but I wanted something original. I did leave in some ideas I really liked so to anyone who watched it, you guys may know a little bit of the direction I’m going with for a specific character. Also yay, I did manage to post it but Chapter 3 may take a bit.

Summary: Everything is happening too fast and it just keeps getting worse. Hey, at least you got to see a friend!

———————— ♱ ————————

Hongjoong’s body is tangled with yours with only a thin blanket covering you both. He feels so good as he thrusts slowly and passionately into your sopping wet hole.

“Hongjoong,” Whines fell from your lips like a prayer. You dig your nails into his back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“Feel so good, squeezing me so right, doll,” He groans in your ear, his tip pressing against your cervix snugly.

“Joong, please,” You gasp as his pace quickens, driving you closer and closer to the taste of your sweet orgasm.

“That’s right. Say my name, doll. Scream it. Worship me,”He starts grunting out nonsense, although it sounded right under the drunken haze of pleasure. His thrust only became rougher, drawing strings of profanity from you. “So sinful,” He chuckles. “Tell God how much you love this demon’s cock,” He cackles, tearing you away from pleasure. When you look at him, his eyes are rolled back to his head and some black substance oozes out of his mouth.

You let out a horrid scream and reached for anything on your night stand. “Get off of me!” You cry, grabbing some object and hitting Hongjoong on the head with it. He then collapses over you and you shakily toss away the object you killed him with, a crucifix.

He lifts his head up, “You can’t run from the mark of lust.”

You sat up immediately, ending whatever nightmare that was. It felt so real, and you swear it felt so good before the whole demonic stuff happened.

That night you prayed. To be honest, during times like these, you suddenly become a devout Christian, or was it Catholic? Does it matter? They both worship God.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?” You walk around the courtyard of the church as you ask the priest some questions. The courtyard doesn’t seem to be well taken care of, the shrubs over growing and eroding statues. The grass could also use some cutting.

“No, can’t say that I have,” He shakes his head.

“Well there’s these weeping angels. They’re pretty much statues and when you blink or when the lights go out, they move. I would have nightmares from them.” You remembered you were at the dorms during your college days and your roommate had introduced you to the show. After watching the weeping angels in particular did she start regretting it, as you woke up in cold sweats. You had dreams of the angels chasing you.

“Well the church has plenty of those,” Hongjoong laughs as you shudder at the thought. The leaves crunched under your shoes, as the weather had gotten colder and it seems the world is dying around you.

“Do they ever move?” You ask jokingly as you link arms with him.

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

You look up at him, scoffing, “Oh really?”

He smirks as he nods. “Yeah. There’s one behind you?”

You turn your head to look behind and there was nothing. “Liar,” You huff and Hongjoong came to a sudden stop. Confused, you turned your head back to face the front to question why he stopped.

“No I’m not,” He says as you come face to face with the stone cold statue that looks at you with empty eyes.

“You are so mean!” You raise your voice but you weren’t offended by the harmless joke.

“Michael just wanted to say hi.”

“Well I’m saying goodbye,” You roll your eyes as you walk ahead of him.

He laughs as he watches you slowly walk off, eyes glazing over your figure and the way you kick some rocks while muttering under your breath. His gaze wanders back up and stops at your waist, or at least the middle of your spine much closer to your tailbone. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

You wave him off, “Not falling for it.”

“No, I'm serious. You’re bleeding.”

“I would feel if I were bleeding,” You turn to him, brows furrowed.

“I could take a picture to show you,” He offers.

You sigh and hand him your phone. He leans down and pulls your shirt up by an inch. “Oh shit!” He gasps, making you panic.

“What. What. What happened?” You ask, trying to look at your back for yourself.

“Let me just,” He snaps the picture then turns the phone screen to you.

“Oh fuck,” You whisper as you zoomed into the picture. It’s slightly still bloody, however you can easily make out swollen red marks that form into an unknown symbol. It’s almost as if you’ve been branded. “Hongjoong, this seems demonic. I’m too hot to be possessed. . .” You whimper, eyes brimming with tears. “My gorgeous face would be ruined by a demon!” Wails come from you as you can already imagine that one girl from The Exorcist. In all horror movies, the host always becomes ugly after possession. “Like I wanted to die but not like this! Even if I’m on my deathbed, I have to remain gorgeous!”

“Y/N, I fear you have questionable priorities, however I can recommend some things since we’re not sure if you’re truly possessed,” Hongjoong says, rather too calmly.

“How do you know?” She grabs onto his shirt and shakes him. “How are you so sure?” She looks deep into his eyes.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and pulls out a rosary. “What do you feel when you look at this?”

“Trauma. Those times when my parents would force me to recite the rosary ten times,” You shudder. “Wait- does that mean I’m possessed?” You gasp dramatically.”

“Do you feel violent? Like you’re going to hurt me. Or perhaps do you feel physical pain?” He asks.

You scoff, “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then you’re not possessed,” He flicks your forehead earning a grunt from you as you rub the spot.

“But how do you know?” She insists.

“Because as a former exorcist, I know that most demons would immediately react to anything holy, and the fact you’re standing in front of the church shows that you’re not possessed. There is a rare case where a demon doesn’t react at all, meaning the demon is very strong, but there are still some symptoms unless the demon fully takes control of the body,” He explains.

“Oh, okay,” You sigh in relief. “I’m good.”

“But it could also mean that you’re a target of a demon.”

“We’ll get rid of it! How do I get rid of it!” You cry.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you are. “Sleep with a crucifix in your room, pray at night, and go to confession and apologize for the lack of faith,” He instructs.

“Is that 100% foolproof?” You ask.

“No.”

“Damn,” You huff.

Suddenly, a loud high pitched scream causes you both to freeze and look at each other in panic. Collectively, you both decide to run to where the screams came from. Once Hongjoong pushes the heavy wooden doors open, he looks around and sees that the deacon has already arrived at the scene.

“Seonghwa, what happened?” Hongjoong asks as his gaze falls on the nun, Sister Anna, who’s crying next to the man. Before them is another nun who remains unmoving.

“I’m afraid the killer has gotten into the parish, Father,” Seonghwa says calmly.

Hongjoong walks up to them with you following close behind. The closer you got the more you were able to make out the scene. “Oh my God,” you gasp, earning a look from Seonghwa for using God’s name in vain.

The nun on the pew sits stiff, her hands tied together with a rosary. She looks at the huge cross above the altar however her eyes are deep pits of emptiness. She’ll never see God. The killer scooped out her eyes. Was she praying while getting killed? How did she get killed in the first place? Not a single gunshot or stab wound. Her body is just there, praying.

“I’ll prepare the funeral right away,” Seonghwa says with a lack of emotion, taking the body as if it was nothing.

“Shouldn’t we leave the body so that the police can investigate?” You ask.

“And ruin the peace of the church? Giving a proper funeral for Sister Mary is what she would have wanted,” Seonghwa says sternly, to which you don’t understand. Someone died. Why is he being so calm about this?

“Look, Y/N,” Hongjoong turns to you. “I think you should go home. I don’t think you should see any more of this.”

“But-“ You start but the look in his eyes, the look that says, ‘question and you’ll see the consequences,’ forces you to shut up and turn away from. “Yeah, I’ll see you,” You force out before walking down the long isle till you get to the huge set of wooden doors.

You have decided to cut through the woods, realizing that it’s a very quick shortcut to your house. As always, you pass by the huge oak tree. Maybe this is the reason the town is called Oakheart.

“You bear the mark of lust,” A woman sneers.

Your head spins to the voice. It’s the woman from before. This time, she wears a black thin veil over her head.

“That. How did you-“ You are flabbergasted. You recalled your dream. You can’t run from the mark of lust. “Who are you?”

At the corner of her lips curve into a smirk. She transforms in a blink of an eye. The once wrinkled skin becomes tight and youthful, although there’s still age. She looks very mature. Her eyes are sharp and her blue eyes are piercing cold. Her once pruned lips are pulled tight, the color dark red like wine, or even blood.

“What the fuck!” You scream as you back away. “The woman. The old lady. The grandma! How? What,” You stutter, trying to make sense of everything. You’re not high or drunk so this must be real, right? You pinch your skin to make sure.

You could care less for an explanation at this point as you run off. First you witnessed a murder. Now you’re seeing things. It’s best if you just go home.

“You can’t run, child! You’re a beacon! They’ll find you!” The woman calls from behind you.

You keep running and running until you make it to your street. You’re never going through the forest ever again. You don’t even look back, nor look at where you are going so it’s no surprise when you collide with someone.

“Are you okay?” The man asks, though the kindness is unexpected. In New York, you know you’d get many nasty remarks.

“I’m so sorry- Wooyoung!?” You gasp, recognizing the face of an old friend.

“Y/N? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Wooyoung’s face lights up, erasing all the negative feelings you harbored. Finally someone familiar.

He’s what you can describe as the typical shy church boy, always hiding behind his glasses. He has a soft spoken voice to him, which to be honest does not match his face nor his smile that naturally looks mischievous. He looks like he’s scheming when it’s the complete opposite. He’s a sweet guy.

“Just visiting. Rough times,” You chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m somewhat saddened that you never even visited me,” He frowns.

“I’m sorry Woo, it’s just so many things going on. I see you still got your typical outfit going on here,” You lightly tease, hoping to change the topic and lighten up the mood. “It’s really about time you get rid of those flannels.”

He always wears his typical flannel shirt, buttoned all the way to the top and khaki pants. He dresses like a dad. And of course he always sports his black thick-rimmed glasses. You always say he has the face of a model but he never cares, always telling you , “It matters not the clothing or richness you have. God judges all equally.”

“So how’s it been? Are you working or anything?” You ask curiously.

“I’ve actually taken a job as a history teacher in Oakheart High School,” He chuckles.

“Oh really? Any interesting history?” You ask, knowing that history class back in your high school days was a bore.

“You’d be surprised. You can call me this town's historian, well unofficially anyways,” He shrugs with a chuckle. “How about you?”

“Neurosurgeon. So where are you off to?” You ask.

“Home. You should, too. Y’know it’s very dangerous for us to be out and about with the murders.”

“Yeah, I just witnessed a murder in the church,” You shrug nonchalantly, earning a gasp from him and he quickly covers your mouth.

“Don’t say that out loud. It will cause panic to everyone. Whatever you saw, keep it to yourself. I’ll pretend like I never heard what you said,” He warns you, urgency clear in his eyes, darting about to make sure no one heard. “Now I’ll be going home. You have a nice day okay,” He smiles, taking his hand off your face and walks back.

“Bye Woo.”

This town doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

—————————————————————

“They found the murderer! Come on! We have to go!” Your father screams, waking up the whole house. He rushes you and your mom out the door as quickly as possible.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Church,” Your father says, adding nothing more. You all got in the car and drove 10 minutes. You know cutting through the forest is faster.

When you all arrive, the parking lot is filled, having to park on the side of the road instead. It seems the whole town is there.

“What’s going on?” You ask once more, getting more confused by the second when you see people heading into the woods.

“Just don’t ask and follow us,” Your father responds gruffly.

You said you’ll never go back to the woods but here you are amongst a whole group of people. “Woo!” You whisper, weaving your way to stand next to him. “What’s going on?”

“The murderer, they found the murderer and she was found to be a witch,” Wooyoung shortly explains, eyes focused ahead as he clutches the rosary beads in his hand. “God is gracious,” He kisses the beads.

“Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here,” You remember the words of the old woman. Here you are, standing before the large oak tree once more, anticipating the events that would unfold, and it doesn’t seem good.

Hush murmurs drowned the silence of the woods. It seems everyone knows what’s happening but you. You don’t know what to expect.

“Brothers and sisters,” The familiar voice of Hongjoong quickly hushes the crowd. The deacon, Seonghwa, stood next to him. “It is thanks to our devoted loyalty and prayers to God that we have found the demon causing havoc to our town. A witch.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” Screams echo through the quiet forest as the nuns drag a woman to Hongjoong.

Your hand shakily covers your mouth, recognizing the old woman. There’s no way. A fragile woman like her? But the way she transformed before your eyes. Maybe she did do it. She seems to be staring at you now. You know I didn’t do it.

You don’t get it. If she’s the murderer, why is she here instead of in jail? What are the police doing? What is Hongjoong doing?

“Now we won’t be burning any witches but we know what to do with them,” Hongjoong smiles. He then turns to the nuns who dragged the woman to a platform and only did you notice that there’s a rope tied to a strong branch on the tree.

“There’s no way,” You whisper.

“It’s what happens to witches,” Wooyoung assures you. “History says so.”

Hongjoong puts the noose around the woman’s neck then steps back. “Brothers and sisters, we should not place mistrust in each other, but this is an example of what happens to the worshippers of the devil. With a nod, Seonghwa drops the platform, causing the woman to drop with it, the noose causing her to lose circulation and ultimately killing her. Hongjoong is turned away from you but from where you are, you can make out a smirk.

“What the fuck,” You manage to get out as you back away from the crowd. Everything happened so quickly. One moment she was screaming, the next second she’s limp. You want to puke. You might puke.

“Where are you going?” Wooyoung asks.

“Out!” You scream, causing a commotion. You run away from the group of people, Wooyoung calling out your name and your parents running after you.

You weren’t going to wait for a bus. You immediately call for an Uber as you pack your bags.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave,” You’re mother yells.

“Well I can and I will. I am an adult!” You look out the window to see your Uber waiting for you. You push past your mother. You don’t even make eye contact with your dad.

Hongjoong killed someone. In fact, he was smiling. You can’t be mistaken.

“I’m not coming back. Not even if you force me,” You put your bag over the shoulder. You walk out the house, not even glancing back as you enter the car.

“No you are not leaving!” Your mom cries, forcing the car door open.

“Let go!” You yell, pushing her, causing her to stumble.

“Theresa!” Your dad calls you by your catholic name, as if a strong boisterous voice would scare you. You close the door and tell the driver to just go. You weren’t going to come back. There’s a reason you go by your middle name rather than your first. Maybe you should have changed your name to Lucy out of spite. They always believe Lucy is just a shortened version of Lucifer. Or maybe Lilith? That would rile them up. It doesn’t matter anymore. And fuck Hongjoong.

—————————————————————

Jung Wooyoung drives home in the dark rainy night, singing to whatever song is on the radio. Suddenly, he sees a person on the road in front of his car which forced him to swerve so suddenly. He looks back in shock then undoes his seatbelt before getting out of the car to check on the person he saw.

“Hello?” He calls out into the dark road, as nobody had invested in more lights. No answer and so he keeps on walking to the direction of where he saw the person.

“Help me! Please!” A man begs from behind him. He turns slowly to look at him.

“Oh my god,” He whispers to himself, looking at the dirty disheveled guy. So he finds himself driving the young man in the back of his car to his house. “Oh poor thing,” He shakes his head. “My house is just at the end of this road. We’ll get you all cleaned up. Tomorrow I’ll call a doctor to get you all checked.”

Wooyoung is quick to give the man the best hospitality he can offer. “I brewed you some tea. I would have gotten coffee if it wasn’t night already,” Wooyoung smiles at the young man who had finally gotten all cleaned up. The man slowly approaches him. “I also found some cookies. What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened to you?” He asks. He’s far too kind, inviting a stranger into his home, offering them refreshments without knowing anything about them. “Did someone attack you?”

The man shakes his head and sits in front of him. “No. The woods did.”

Wooyoung bites his lip for a second before his lips form a smile, sitting down as well. “Wow, well you’re not from around here, aren't you?” He chuckles. “You know, everyone knows about the witch hunt in Salem, but many people don’t know that there was one, right here in Oakheart. 1692. Well maybe the lucky few who escaped. It’s no surprise the spirits of the woods are mad. There was a hanging today.” He starts talking about the eerie history of the town. “Back then, thirteen witches were hanged in the forest,” He tells the man, explaining why he believed him so easily, being one to be a huge believer of superstitions. The superstitions are the reason he becomes even more a devout Christian, not wanting to awaken any angry spirits.

“How do you know so much,” The man asks, “about witches?”

Wooyoung smiles, “Well, I may be the unofficial historian of Oakheart. Plus, I teach at the high school. Oakheart High School. The town is actually named Oakheart because the tree the witches were hanged was an oak-”

“Do you know Y/N?”

“Yes actually! She’s my friend,” He says, taken aback. “Do you know her?”

“Not yet,” The man answered in a distorted voice which made Wooyoung stand up in fear. “But hell will be much livelier with her.” The man raises his arm up, sending a silver sheer to stab Wooyoung’s neck. He looks at the stranger in shock before collapsing to the floor.

The man approaches his body, touching his fresh warm blood while chanting in latin. The stranger transforms into the image of the man, smirking to himself. “Asmodeus, you owe me. I’m not one to play matchmaker.”