#bc now i am filled with melancholy

[rejectedbytheempty]

i don’t think it matters how many times i listen to balance, i will always get an ache in my chest at the end of petals to the metal when hurley and sloane have their last moments together 😭

[melodic-haze]

Okay, hear me out. Having the power over the Tsaritsa herself

If we get Arle our levels should surely surpass and manage to get the ice woman herself under our thumb.. RAHSHSHHAHD the thought alone makes me so turned on Imaginee???

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Tsaritsa x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Degredation 🤷‍♀️✌️ one day I will use this part for something genuinely worrying like someone dying idk but today is NOT that day

☆ — NOTES: When I tell you I stared before screaming in sheer glee 😭😭😭 LIKE THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME AND MY POWER FANTASIES HALLELUJAH

God I love having powerful women at my feet ty YESSIR I CAN IMAGINE IT AND I'M GOING INSANE❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

This woman was once a goddess so full of love, only for her heart to harden once she ran out of love to give :(((( it's up to you to give her that love again 🥰

In all seriousness though it is such a PRIVILEGE to be let past the many walls she has made for herself, let alone being able to hold her heart in your hands. Please hold it gently :( I know you lot wanna get on with it already but the path towards loving and domming this archon is! Very difficult! But in the end it's so worth it :333 bc she will show you pure, utter love and devotion—it'll have everyone, especially the Harbingers, jealous of such a connection, though whether they're jealous of you for being in the arms of their Tsaritsa or they're jealous of their GOD being the receiver of your love is anyone's guess

Ofc there's always the option where you date the Harbingers too but like that isn't the focus here shhhhh 🤫🤫🤫🤫

Once you have gained her full trust, now all you need is to reassure her that it's okay to put down her crown whenever it's just the two of you. It'll certainly take a while again, but when she finally has the courage to let go and essentially give you the reigns, well...

It started off with the same sort of song-and-dance, with the two of you kissing each other deeply as your hands roamed around each other's bodies.. yet usually none of your actions have ever gone beyond simply feeling each other up and building up that excitement before simply letting it down lightly and settling for something less.. carnal.

This time, however, it's as if some hidden switch had been found—you know not of what spurred your beloved archon to get more starved for touch than usual, with her hands wandering within the confines of your clothing and brushing onto bare skin, but you weren't complaining in the least.. though you couldn't help but feel confused.

It is only when she backs you up and pushes you down onto the bed before straddling your lap with a brand new look in her eyes, so utterly clouded with need, that you realise what she wants.

"Are you sure? You know I don't mind waiting for as long as you need."

"And how long will you last in this world before it takes you from me too?" The Tsaritsa shakes her head with a sad smile as she focuses on you despite the lustful daze she's in, "No, I am ready to be taken by you, in both body and soul."

You couldn't help but soften at your lover's confession, warmth filling you despite the cold radiating off her skin—something of a side effect from being the Cryo Archon, you had guessed—and just a touch of melancholy brushing against your heart as she speaks of her fear for the loss of you.

It's not as if you were going to simply discard such a proclamation, especially when it comes from the Goddess of Love herself, so you gently brush a hand on her cheek before moving down to squeeze her bicep in reassurance, "If that is what my Archon wants, then--"

"No."

"No?"

"Within the confines of this room, I do not want to be above your stature." She wraps her hands around your neck, causing you to shiver pleasantly at the icy contact, "I wish to be equals.. and..."

"And..?"

Her voice was quieter this time, a lot more bashful as she looks away with a rosy tint on her cheeks, "Perhaps even.. below you.. with a loss of my power."

"..You're sure?"

"Yes, I..." She lets out a light exhale before looking at you with true sincerity in her eyes, "I trust you with full control over me."

You try to find the words that seem appropriate to answer with, and yet you find none. So you kiss her tenderly at first.. before deepening the kiss, taking charge as you pull her towards you.

When she lets out a low moan of satisfaction, you couldn't help but smile as you proceeded beyond the line that the two of you were initially hesitant to cross.

Anyways after that, you have the feared Tsaritsa at the palm of your hand, ready and eager to do what you'd want to do ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Imagine being gentle with her at first, showing her soooo much love in your actions as you kiss and touch and worship her body. Her breaths are heavy and deep, perhaps even hot if it weren't for the fact that they came out as cold fogs. In fact, she's cautious at first due to her being very cold, her body temperature SO unlike yours but you tell her that it's okay!!! It'll feel even better anyway 🫶 why?

Temperature play ☺️☺️☺️ she's naturally really cold, so if you put your finger in her sopping cunt, your warmth is doing basically like half the work for you. Start adding friction into the equation, moving your digits inside her as you pepper hot kisses on pale skin and let your tongue swirl on her breasts, and she'll be squirming in basically no time due to how hot your touch feels compared to hers 🫶🫶🫶🫶

THEN you get rougher with her; adding more force into your touch and you start getting more relentless by the second and preventing her from actually taking a moment. The moment you say something degrading towards her by pure accident, you swear it just slipped out, at first you think you've made a GRAVE mistake like yk she said that you can do whatever but YOU DON'T THINK SHE MEANT??? THAT!!!!!!! But when a whine escapes her lips as her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head, her wet folds squeezing your fingers all the while, you realise she LIKES that. And that's like. Holy shit she trusts you THAT much that she's LETTING you essentially ruin her and her godly image

The moment you mutter both words of praise AND degredation is the moment she's gonna be SOOOO GONEEEEEEE❗️❗️❗️

"You're sucking me in," you mused out loud with a light smirk. "Who knew the Cryo Archon turned out to be such a pretty whore... For someone like me, no less."

She bucks her hips up with a raspy moan at your words, the sound absolutely sinful to your ears, despite the fact that at the state she was in, there was no way she understood most of what you said. Her skin flushed and her lips swollen because of you, the once ever-so-frigid archon was reduced to a pathetic mess.

Of course such a scene was an ego boost for you, not to mention a turn on.

Your lips traced a line all the way down, from her lips.. to her chest.. to her abdomen.. until it brushes her sensitive clit, your breath hot against cold skin. You feel her fingers tangle themselves in your hair, gripping tightly in anticipation and need for you to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

"My beautiful girl is so eager for me, aren't you?" You cooed as your free hand airily grazed the outside of her thigh before gripping onto it, "Don't worry your pretty little head, hm? I'll give you sooo much love, you won't even know what to do with it all."

All it took was one lick with your tongue, the muscle so unbearably hot to her touch, for the Tsaritsa to realise that you were going to make good on that promise of yours.

SHE'LL TAKE EVERYTHING WITHOUT A WORD OF COMPLAINT UGGHGB in fact she'll even DELIGHT in the change of roles, in the way that you're happily using and toying with her :3333

Overstimming her would be SO MUCH FUN because of the temperature build-up. Not to mention if you say that you love her??? Oh FUCK her reaction is delightful—she'll start fucking CRYING, both at the overstim and the fact that you truly love her and you were willing to show it in every way you can :((((( and suddenly she's seeing STARS behind her eyelids as she cums herself silly :3

From that and the later sessions you have, it's very clear who TRULY holds the reigns between you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 and with the Tsaritsa, who needs and DESERVES a break from being looked down upon as some......some antagonist in Teyvat's story, well. She wouldn't have it any other way 🥰

Oh. One more thing before this is done!!! She's an EXPERT at aftercare hello she's not the (former) Goddess of Love for nothing, just saying..........just give her a few mins to recover first. Or maybe an hour. Just give her a moment 😭😭😭 OR ALTERNATIVELY PAMPER HER AFTERWARDS❗️❗️❗️❗️ Take care of her, you'll see her cry again, something she'd usually refuse to do around everyone else, and you just gotta hug her and tell her you're here and it's okay and that you love her :((((

[stitchthesewords]

I see your tags about the rendubs divorce arc + Ren running off with Bdubs' ex + Bdubs declaring himself king because he can do it better, and I hear you loud and clear

But I am now here with a counter offer, aka you got my thoughts spinning and this relates to a fic I started but never finished because writing angst makes me too sad. (this ask that ended up way longer than I thought it would oops)

What if renthubs polycule (or some flavor of poly hermits i'm not picky) where the three need some time to mentally recover and process the whole king arc. Ren goes to Doc, Etho goes to his single player world and Bdubs goes to Empires.

Doc ends up helping Ren get through his anxieties and fears after being king, including his dynamic with all the people in the rebellion and the feeling that his friends and partners would hate him for everything, which is of course not actually true. And I think that Ren is the type of guy to process things relatively quick and be able to bounce back. So once he is more stable, he follows everyone to empires.

Bdubs runs away through the rift and declares himself a god on Empires, which shows you about how well he is (not) coping with everything. To me, he is the type to loudly declare that he's over it, but he ends up festering the emotions, particularly when no one else is really talking about the king anymore. He's fine, why wouldn't he be fine, he's a god. (side eyeing joel here as well after dl)

Then Etho. Hmm. I think he isn't as bothered by it by the other two but I'm not 100% sold on that either. There has to be a certain melancholy to knowing your partners aren't in the best headspace and not really being able to do much about it. And the guilt about fighting against them and having to be part of the group to kill them. The third life memories would have to be coming in at full force. It may be lower stakes on hermitcraft but I don't think that matters when the memories are that emotionally charged.

I think that in the chaos of the empires collab and then the start of a new year with new projects and tcg and everything, the three don't really get a chance to sit down and talk. Bdubs is hiding away in the monolith drafting up visions of another grand castle base. Etho and Ren see each other more often with tcg matches and, through a number of casual interactions surrounded by other hermits, decide that maybe it would be time to talk. And there wouldn't be a better excuse to talk than a big project.

So the boat race idea is born. Etho and Ren go out to the ice spikes and scope it out. They end up around a fire made of some spare wood and end up talking well into the night. It starts out with plans and slowly ends in a heart to heart, where they finally express their struggles with everything and their commitment to each other going forward. They fall asleep cuddled together in a sleeping bag under the stars.

And bdubs is still festering. He doesn't stop long enough to realize. His days are filled with planning and designing and gathering materials. He works himself to exhaustion so he is too tired to think about who and what he is missing. He's fine. He builds a throne room.

Em you have no idea how insane this ask made me I am. HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

GOD! GOD! You are soooooooo right about how they would each react and recover/not recover tbh. And its like - Ren isn't 100% but he's like. He's getting there and being up and moving around will help him out - and Bdubs just. HHHHH Bdubs throwing himself into his work to hide from his woes while putting on the 'I'm FINE! ACTUALLY!!!" im ill. And Etho just having. No clue really god bless him he's looking between the two of them and trying to figure out what the best way to approach everything is.

GOD and then the way you thought about rentho bonding and finally talking bc of the TCG and then going out to build the boat race while bdubs unknowingly is festering back home im hhhhhhh. I am normal about this i am so normal. [They should. play clocks against each other in the tcg where they bond. For no reason. ]

Imagine coming back from having a boat race and doing fun stuff out in the ice to find bdubs having completely thrown himself into an insane task without break and its like. you've gotta figure out how to approach it he cant just fester but he's closed off and hiding behind work to not have to address his feelings. I am normal I am feeling soooooooooooooooooooo normal.

[candybowbeansies]

Wayfaring Stranger

warnings/notes: implied deaths and many, many timeloops from birth to death and bodily disfigurement, hints at suicidal tendencies if you really squint hard, game spoilers but rlly it’s hinted at the beginning at the game so not really, reader is Sol but still will be written as Y/N, y'all this game has me hook line and sinker I need to write for it starting nyow.

heavily inspired by the song Wayfaring Stranger popularized by the movie 1917, because to me that song is Sol, the game’s player character. Drifting through many pasts, constants, and even more futures, all while losing so much while so young, yet gaining much more, the only moment’s reprieve being the time of their passing, only to look forward to the journey onto the next past, present, and future. Sym’s POV and alt!au(Dys doesn’t meet Sym), written very differently than the game because I’m jealous of Dys, and Sym falls in love with reader first before Dys(likewise for Dys) Sym+DysxReader

Currently only writing for Dys and Sym! They’re the characters I know best as of writing this i have a thing for tdh 😀 there’s also the possibility of me crossing over BNHA into this fandom bc i may or may not have many ideas sitting in the back of my head--

Underage characters are Aged Up!

It’s the final nail in the coffin for Sym when he hears Reader singing by sheer chance. He falls in love.

You were an oddity among the humans. Only a short time after you and the others crashed, did he see a short human-a child, the taller ones referred to you as-braving outside your ridiculous constructs. And it wasn't long before another shorter one followed suit. You preferred all-around nature’s colors and he preferred ones from Glow season. Dys, you called him, while in turn, he called you Y/N. A name so beautiful, and so familiar…he’s dreamed of you, quite literally.

For some time, he’d watch over you two, watching you two grow closer to adulthood; curious, stubborn little wonders. You grew in similar likeness to the grass in the plains, each passing year creating things within him he’d not felt before, or for a very, very long time. He found himself trying to negotiate your survival, more and more as time went by.

While out fulfilling your curiosities, he found you’d taken to humming to yourself. 

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy; sadness and acceptance for the inevitable.

“I'm traveling through this world of woe,”

It wasn’t until now, by sheer chance…

“Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger,”

He found you singing to yourself, in desolation. You found this area for yourself, seasons ago;

“In that bright land to which I go.”

There was an unspoken promise between you and your other half, Dys. You both respected each other's boundaries, but yet there seemed to be a sixth sense in each of you for the other.

“I'm going there to see my father,”

If one was in need, the other would find and comfort them. Like this, it wasn’t long before Dys, too, was pulled by you.

“I'm going there, no more to roam.”

He recognized Dys’ pained expression. And it gave a pang in his chest, too. In some far off dimension within his dreams, he saw you in a beautiful glade…your form marred for life, so desolate, but still filled with so much hope.

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

He had an inkling that you, too, had the power of foresight. To say you two were attached by the hands wouldn’t necessarily be a lie; after all, one or the other would be led on for most of the time you spent exploring. 

“I'm only going over home…”

Sometimes, you’d stop Dys from going on a path; and through his connection with Vertumna, he’d find either the presence of danger, or nothing at all.

“I know dark clouds will gather round me,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy, sadness, acceptance…

“I know my way is rough and steep,”

But yet, at the same time, of hope and conviction.

“But golden fields lie just before me,”

Faith that soon, everything will end…

“Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep…”

…even if just momentarily.

“I'm going home to see my mother,”

“Sym?” he hears Dys whisper, fiddling with the grass, having found a comfortable spot to give you your space. He finds himself slightly surprised, but if it was you who told Dys about him, then it’d make sense the young man just barely out of his teens knows of his existence.

“And all my loved ones who've gone on…”

They hear your voice crack. Sym hears your breath waver. “They just lost their dad…” Dys didn’t seem particularly sad-just understanding. “Again, they said.”

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

“They were the first to understand me. To believe me. It’s only right that I do the same.” Dys says, leaning back on his palms. “Sym?” he calls again.

“I'm only going over home.”

Your voice dips off, into soft hums. They fill the area in melancholy, for what feels like an eternity.

“Will it ever end?” Dys asks. He knew what Dys was asking. Will your pain ever end? He warps silently into the area behind Dys. You humans are so emotional, Sym swears, it’s contagious. “There’s no way to know. The universe is vast, petal.” he tells Dys, recognizing sadness in his own voice. Dys snorts, “They said something similar.” before craning his head to get a better look at his towering form. “You’re famous, you know that?” Dys says. He chuckles, smiling sweetly. Dys simply rolls his eyes, before standing up. “They talk so much about you, even I like you…” the ravenette mutters almost begrudgingly under his breath, patting off imaginary dust before turning, unperturbed by the difference in height, reaching out his hand. He stares at the offered hand. “Well?” Dys pipes up impatiently, “Don’t you wanna meet them?” waving his hand a few times.

He can’t help but smile, remembering a distant memory from a distant past as he reaches out, allowing himself to be led to you.

“Y/N!” Dys calls with his own form of enthusiasm, “Guess who I finally caught. Told you I’d do it one day!” making you turn.

Your torso was mangled by decade old scars, and you were missing an eye, an arm and a leg, supported by contraptions; one to lean on, and one to replace your leg. “Sym! Dys!” dream you called out, full of joy as they approached.

The current you, who exists right now, simply bounds towards them, arms outstretched.

“I love you.” dream you sighs, leaning into their embrace.

You giggle tearily, latching awkwardly onto them due to your differences in height. Dys goes red and tenses right up, “Y-You--! You’re too much sometimes, you know that?” sputtering at the impact. He’s somewhat used to it, it appears, as he softens up a little. “Geez…love you, too.” he huffs, bashfully.

So that’s the fluttering in his chest? Love. Love. It’s love.

That has a nice ring to it, he smiles. Yes...he's in love with you.

[thekavseklabs]

"I know, I can't go back even if they did manage to come for me here." There's melancholy in his expression, missing his friends and the adventures they'd once had, but that emotion is countered by the contented pride he feels as he watches their kit crawl over his toys to come cuddle him instead.

Even if they came for him, he couldn't so much as consider leaving now. There was something else he needed to protect more now.

He pulled the little one into his arms and nuzzled gently, giving off a low purr that had long since become a natural response, and playfully blew a raspberry against his son's stomach for distraction, setting off such sweet giggles.

"This is my place now." He murmured finally, leaning back against his mate with a soft hum. || Keith to Vynathr bc no I am not over this verse whatsoever fdhjjksd

Vynathr rumbled softly, his own pride stoked at the sight of Keith and his child, so content at his side. He'd done well in choosing a mate, and done better in proving his own worthiness as a mate himself, even if it took some... Force. They were happy now, and Keith would never leave him.

"That it is." He nuzzles into Keith's hair, purring, one eye still focused on their kit. "You do not need them. I will give you a better life. Anything you ask for, yours." He knew that Keith would not ask for freedom, and everything else was on the table- adventures, travel, treasures. His friends, perhaps not, but anything material Vynathr could provide, any emotional void he could fill himself.

"... I love you, my mate."

[zablife]

@areyenotfondofmelobster Red, you've written something so beautifully poetic both melancholy and loving, I can't quite bring myself to describe it here. I can only say that I'm so glad you felt carried away by the spirit to write bc what moved you was truly inspired. This fic is filled with such visceral emotion, I am still thinking of it days after reading and I can only now begin to compose a response bc it left me speechless.

The way you've described the "red tide" throughout the fic was masterful. The emotion intertwined with the physicality is so well done, esp the way you've described scent. It gave a sense of both perception and sentiment at once which narrated the scene in a unique way during the hospital scene when she's not able to view Arthur or her environment. I admire writers who are able to convey feeling in this manner and is a testament to your talent.

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide. What an incredible line that tells us so much about her mental state! This coupled with the image of her alone on a little island in the middle of the sea was quite vivid in my mind. Arthur's hand reaching for her in the bed recurs as it did in the tub and both times my heart swelled bc she has someone willing to see her safely to shore. Not to mention the thought of Arthur of all people being the one to do this was perfect to me. After all he's suffered himself he would understand and empathize better than anyone.

The feelings expressed by Arthur esp are lovely. Seeing this unfold before his eyes and the tenderness he displays toward her is breathtaking. “No one’s takin’ you, love...Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast” The protectiveness in his tone made me cry 😭 To know she has someone who cares so deeply and urges her to fight, moved me. And this bit was just as touching: "God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes". I imagine seeing someone watching you with such hope would bring you round. Tho it begins in anger, it's not hard to see how this would turn to gratitude over time. In this case we see the transformation in both of them as they help free one another in this stunning paragraph which I must quote back to you in its entirety bc it's my fave part of the entire piece:

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

I've rambled here and I'm not sure I've made sense at all, but I hope you take away my awe and admiration for your gifts as a writer. You managed to take a difficult topic and infuse such compassion and empathy. I can only say, ty for taking the time to write my request with such thoughtfulness. I'm certain you're the only person who could take this quote and create something so unflinchingly honest, yet comforting in the prospect of sanguinity. Sending much love your way, darling 💞

Hi darling, I have a request for a drabble if you feel inspired. ❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜ from the prompt list with Arthur Shelby.

People Like Us

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: graphic depiction of suicide attempts, blood and cutting, angst, comfort

WC: 1848

Definitely not just a drabble, got a bit carried away with this one. I'm sorry this is so late, Lee! Getting back on track with writing.

You’d thought everyone had left. But Arthur had remained; he always did, for at least a few minutes after, to make sure you were safe. He stood outside your door, watching the coppers stationed in the darkened alleys, occasionally knocking one’s teeth out when he didn’t think they were taking their watch over you seriously. Sometimes, when the night was most quiet, and the voices of those he’d damned did not plague his mind, he thought about admitting things to you – feelings, that you likely did not reciprocate.

Tonight, your bathroom light had been on, and your screeching pierced the walls of the residence and filled the night air of Birmingham like some sort of banshee.

Your eyes were foggy when the door swung open and the man nearly slipped making his way to you, a bruised hand clasping around the porcelain of the tub and a few locks of hair wisping over his eyes before the same hand was wrapping around you, pulling you up. Crimson streaked your vision as it dribbled down your wrist, pooling around you, staining the bathwater a pale, sickening shade of red. For one dreadful moment, you feared you might never escape it, that you would drown with the tang of bitter iron on your tongue and the blood-water would swallow your eyes, your throat, your ears.

But Arthur’s palm in yours was strong, and warm; it pumped a new life in your veins and sent shivers along your numb, tingling flesh, and heaved you from the waters of death in one dizzying sweep. Head rolling back, long fingers caught you, cradling you against the heat of his chest, the palpitations of his wild heart coming to you in shockwaves. Yours were frighteningly faint in comparison to his. 

You shivered in his arms – cold, suddenly, past the heat of the adrenaline – as your bare flesh met the biting air, curling in on yourself like a child. Everything took a second or two to register, maybe more – did time even exist? It must have; it must have, because you were fading fast. And Arthur was holding you, and your wet, metallic lips buried themselves in the soft fabric of his chest, desperate to hear the sound of his heartbeat drown out yours. Desperate to cling to the living.

“D – don’t let it take me,” you mumbled into his chest. He smelled like blood, bullets and sweat. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. He smelled like the lavender oil you’d given him to help him sleep among his demons. He smelled like home.

A thumb stroked lovingly over your drenched scalp. How could the same hands that had strangled a poor man to death last week be so gentle to you?

“No one’s takin’ you, love.” His hot breath sent another shiver through you, down the nape of your neck. But his words quivered. “Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast.”

The remnants of the red tide clung to your bare skin, ringlets of drenched hair clinging to your neck, threatening to choke the life from you. In the pitch black of your mind, it frothed at the seams, spilling into the void that seemed to span wider, and wider, until you were lost in the middle of an ocean.

“Arth… Ar…” Delirious, spinning – everything was spinning. Your nails dug into his skin, fabric bunching in your shaking fist, and you gasped, aftershave and blood and lavender all flooding your senses before blackness came to you in a staccato rhythm, once and twice and once and twice and twice and once and thrice…

---

Your blood was starting to dry on Arthur’s shirt when he came inside to see you. He’d injured two men when they tried taking you from him during your blood transfusion, and he’d nearly killed another as he’d been dragged to the alleyway behind the hospital. There, he kicked at brick walls ‘til the leather of shoes peeled, and punched ‘til his shoulders screamed in their sockets and his knuckles split open. Cursed that damned god of his for letting this happen to you, threatened that if he did not return you to him, he would bring Hell down on the heavens.

His neck still burned with an inflamed red mark where he’d torn the chain of the cross from his neck, the metal now stained with your blood, too. Everything, everything was painted in it, everywhere he looked, and his own bloodied knuckles clenched around the cross tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t know – “

“Just lemme see ‘er,” Arthur told the nurse, the gruff of his voice nearly cracking from his wailing and screaming in the alley. The only reason they had let him in was because of the name he bore, and once he knew you were okay he’d personally see to it that each one of them understood the repercussions of denying a Shelby.

Like a mouse under the stare of a mad dog, the nurse scurried off, doors shutting and leaving the room quiet save for the steady beeping, and the creak of the floor beneath Arthur’s torn shoes.

Watery eyes took in your half-conscious form, curled up in the hospital bed just as you’d been curled in his arms, a light gown draped over you. You were still shivering.

While relief settled in the pit of his twisting stomach, grief still knotted his throat, and as much as he tried to hold the tears back, he tasted both salt and blood on his tongue as he lowered himself beside you, bloodied and ringed fingers ghosting across your arms, as if fearful that he would hurt you. 

A sliver of white light tore along the blackness, and your eyes squinted shut, a pain throbbing in your skull. Every thread of sinew and marrow seemed to ache, deep inside your body where you didn’t even know pain could exist, and the red tide lapped at the blurred edges of your mind as you lay flat on your little island in the middle of the sea. The rock beneath you was soft as you rolled your head over, a clean, unfamiliar scent seeming to send your mind into turmoil, shifting your reality between the light and dark, like a pendulum that swung across the white of the heavens, an eclipse that brought you pain and light one moment, darkness and cold the next.

The soft touch of the angel was warm along your arms as the light shattered the black sky, and you gasped. Its touch waned, and you arched your back to sit up, hand reaching feebly for it in the unknown. “Angel…” you thought you breathed. “Angel… don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide.

Your fingers grasped something tangible, something soft and warm, a fire burning beneath softness. Flesh, hot against your palms. Lavender and iron called to you, and finally, strong hands wrapped around you to pull you close.  

“I ain’t no angel,” a familiar, lulling voice spoke as light cleaved the darkness in two and tore it, strip by strip, from your starry gaze. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, love.”

“Arthur.” You smiled around the name, lashes fluttering as you blinked against his blurry visage. Messy strands of hair flopped over his winter-blue eyes, and you clung to the collar of his shirt, dizzy but supported by his hands on your spine, rough and worn against your skin where the hospital gown split.

The pendulum swung against your skull, and your gut roiled with nausea. Your eyes wandered to the wrists that had been bandaged, the red tide seeping into the white. Something beside you beeped to the swing of the pendulum, but broke its rhythm suddenly. Your heart leapt to your throat.

“Shhh,” Arthur said, thumb making little circles over your spine. “We’re gonna get you home, love.”

The red tide began to seep into the corners of your vision as images hurtled towards you in the wide, never-ending ocean. The bullets strewn across your end table, each etched with a name that would haunt your dreams as those before them had. The porcelain of a bathtub, as pallid as the boy’s face who’d taken shrapnel to his chest not twenty feet before your eyes. The heat of the blood-water, like the heat of the fire that had devoured the Garrison the night your innocence had been lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” you pleaded with him, panicking as you found yourself attached to a thin, red tube.

Your fists pummeled his chest weakly and your knees kicked against his leg, and your frail body writhed beneath his grasp, but despite his heart breaking, he did not release you. The burn of the chain he’d snapped from his neck reminded him of the rope that he’d tied years ago, and he could feel a chasm opening beneath his boots as his legs had kicked from under him like yours did now.

And as you finally began to settle, wracked by soft sobs, he cupped your cheek in his bloodied hand, and he looked into the same eyes that had saved him, as he repeated your own words back to you, the words that still echoed in his mind whenever he thought of pulling the trigger on the trouble in his head or tying another noose,

“People like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.”

God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes that had once been so strong, for the way your jaw trembled against his hand. His lip curled, quivering, another tear streaking across his face as he tried desperately to keep the last, frayed threads of his sanity from snapping. Tried to hold himself together so that he could save you.

Because as much as it broke his heart to see you like this, and as much as he cursed his brother but mostly himself for dragging you into this life, he could not lose you.

“You hear me?” Arthur’s voice rose as his fingers dug into your jaw, his gentleness overcome by desperation as the noose tightened round his neck. The hinges of the bed creaked as the wooden stool had, and you watched as his face flushed red. He was going to break.

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

“I hear you,” you murmured into the warmth of his neck, and when you shut your eyes, you stood ashore from the red tide. The sweat and tears against his flesh still smelled of the sea, and though these waters thrashed, they ran clear. And you knew that your angel would guide you through them.

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

[shuckinbeanz]

Wayfaring Stranger

warnings/notes: implied deaths and many, many timeloops from birth to death and bodily disfigurement, hints at suicidal tendencies if you really squint hard, game spoilers but rlly it’s hinted at the beginning at the game so not really, reader is Sol but still will be written as Y/N, y'all this game has me hook line and sinker I need to write for it starting nyow.

heavily inspired by the song Wayfaring Stranger popularized by the movie 1917, because to me that song is Sol, the game’s player character. Drifting through many pasts, constants, and even more futures, all while losing so much while so young, yet gaining much more, the only moment’s reprieve being the time of their passing, only to look forward to the journey onto the next past, present, and future. Sym’s POV and alt!au(Dys doesn’t meet Sym), written very differently than the game because I’m jealous of Dys, and Sym falls in love with reader first before Dys(likewise for Dys) Sym+DysxReader

Currently only writing for Dys and Sym! They’re the characters I know best as of writing this i have a thing for tdh 😀 there’s also the possibility of me crossing over BNHA into this fandom bc i may or may not have many ideas sitting in the back of my head--

Underage characters are Aged Up!

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

It’s the final nail in the coffin for Sym when he hears Reader singing by sheer chance. He falls in love.

You were an oddity among the humans. Only a short time after you and the others crashed, did he see a short human-a child, the taller ones referred to you as-braving outside your ridiculous constructs. And it wasn't long before another shorter one followed suit. You preferred all-around nature’s colors and he preferred ones from Glow season. Dys, you called him, while in turn, he called you Y/N. A name so beautiful, and so familiar…he’s dreamed of you, quite literally.

For some time, he’d watch over you two, watching you two grow closer to adulthood; curious, stubborn little wonders. You grew in similar likeness to the grass in the plains, each passing year creating things within him he’d not felt before, or for a very, very long time. He found himself trying to negotiate your survival, more and more as time went by.

While out fulfilling your curiosities, he found you’d taken to humming to yourself. 

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy; sadness and acceptance for the inevitable.

“I'm traveling through this world of woe,”

It wasn’t until now, by sheer chance…

“Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger,”

He found you singing to yourself, in desolation. You found this area for yourself, seasons ago;

“In that bright land to which I go.”

There was an unspoken promise between you and your other half, Dys. You both respected each other's boundaries, but yet there seemed to be a sixth sense in each of you for the other.

“I'm going there to see my father,”

If one was in need, the other would find and comfort them. Like this, it wasn’t long before Dys, too, was pulled by you.

“I'm going there, no more to roam.”

He recognized Dys’ pained expression. And it gave a pang in his chest, too. In some far off dimension within his dreams, he saw you in a beautiful glade…your form marred for life, so desolate, but still filled with so much hope.

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

He had an inkling that you, too, had the power of foresight. To say you two were attached by the hands wouldn’t necessarily be a lie; after all, one or the other would be led on for most of the time you spent exploring. 

“I'm only going over home…”

Sometimes, you’d stop Dys from going on a path; and through his connection with Vertumna, he’d find either the presence of danger, or nothing at all.

“I know dark clouds will gather round me,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy, sadness, acceptance…

“I know my way is rough and steep,”

But yet, at the same time, of hope and conviction.

“But golden fields lie just before me,”

Faith that soon, everything will end…

“Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep…”

…even if just momentarily.

“I'm going home to see my mother,”

“Sym?” he hears Dys whisper, fiddling with the grass, having found a comfortable spot to give you your space. He finds himself slightly surprised, but if it was you who told Dys about him, then it’d make sense the young man just barely out of his teens knows of his existence.

“And all my loved ones who've gone on…”

They hear your voice crack. Sym hears your breath waver. “They just lost their dad…” Dys didn’t seem particularly sad-just understanding. “Again, they said.”

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

“They were the first to understand me. To believe me. It’s only right that I do the same.” Dys says, leaning back on his palms. “Sym?” he calls again.

“I'm only going over home.”

Your voice dips off, into soft hums. They fill the area in melancholy, for what feels like an eternity.

“Will it ever end?” Dys asks. He knew what Dys was asking. Will your pain ever end? He warps silently into the area behind Dys. You humans are so emotional, Sym swears, it’s contagious. “There’s no way to know. The universe is vast, petal.” he tells Dys, recognizing sadness in his own voice. Dys snorts, “They said something similar.” before craning his head to get a better look at his towering form. “You’re famous, you know that?” Dys says. He chuckles, smiling sweetly. Dys simply rolls his eyes, before standing up. “They talk so much about you, even I like you…” the ravenette mutters almost begrudgingly under his breath, patting off imaginary dust before turning, unperturbed by the difference in height, reaching out his hand. He stares at the offered hand. “Well?” Dys pipes up impatiently, “Don’t you wanna meet them?” waving his hand a few times.

He can’t help but smile, remembering a distant memory from a distant past as he reaches out, allowing himself to be led to you.

“Y/N!” Dys calls with his own form of enthusiasm, “Guess who I finally caught. Told you I’d do it one day!” making you turn.

Your torso was mangled by decade old scars, and you were missing an eye, an arm and a leg, supported by contraptions; one to lean on, and one to replace your leg. “Sym! Dys!” dream you called out, full of joy as they approached.

The current you, who exists right now, simply bounds towards them, arms outstretched.

“I love you.” dream you sighs, leaning into their embrace.

You giggle tearily, latching awkwardly onto them due to your differences in height. Dys goes red and tenses right up, “Y-You--! You’re too much sometimes, you know that?” sputtering at the impact. He’s somewhat used to it, it appears, as he softens up a little. “Geez…love you, too.” he huffs, bashfully.

So that’s the fluttering in his chest? Love. Love. It’s love.

That has a nice ring to it, he smiles. Yes...he's in love with you.

[nugnthopkns]

i wish i could disappear

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, feelings of anxiety due to social media harassment, invasion of privacy that border on stalking

recommended listening: brutal | olivia rodrigo

series masterpost: here

a/n: and we're off to the races!! i love this album and olivia so much. there's a shoutout to goon by tobias jesso jr. in here bc it's my favourite album to cry to lmao (highly recommend giving it a listen!). i'm on the fence about this one but am posting it anyways because i don't think i can make it any better

How the fuck do people find your social media?

All of your accounts are private and Kevin makes sure to never tag you on the rare occasion he posts a picture of the two of you together. The wives and girlfriends who have public accounts make sure to never post about you, and you’re careful not to comment on posts often. You’re a private person and though you understand that due to the nature of your relationship with Kevin you intrigue some fans, you don’t want to give them more than you have to.

Despite making no attempt to open up to the public or media, every day you wake up with hundreds of follow requests from complete strangers. At first it was a little exciting knowing that people were curious about your life but after years of the same routine it’s become draining. It takes you nearly twenty minutes each day to weed through them and accept only the people you know personally. Kevin doesn’t actually know how many people want to catch a glimpse of your daily life because you do your best to keep it from him. Knowing would only bring him stress, and you want him to be able to focus on winning games and loving you with his entire heart.

☼☼☼☼

The phone on your desk rings loudly, pulling your attention away from the computer screen that has way too many numbers on it for your liking. The finance department needed someone to proof their audit before sending it away and since you’re the only one in human relations that has a business degree the job landed on your shoulders. Eager to take a break, you pick it up and press the receiver against your ear.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side laughs gently, but you immediately know it’s Kevin. “Hi sweetheart,” he says warmly, “How’s work?”

“Fine I guess. It’s work, Kev. Nothing terribly exciting happens here,” you explain but continue to fill him in on all the coffee pot gossip you got this morning. Kevin listens as you complain about forgetting your lunch on the counter and chuckles at how upset the situation makes you.

“What if I told you I’m outside your window with a burrito bowl?”

Excited at the possibility of seeing your boyfriend before dinnertime, you whip towards the window and spot Kevin on the sidewalk, waving like an idiot despite knowing your office is on the fifth floor. You hang up quickly after telling him you’ll be down in two minutes and let the receptionist know you’re stepping out for lunch. There’s a line for the elevator so you head to the stairwell, taking them two at a time in your haste. You’re crossing the street to the small park where Kevin has set up a picnic before your co-workers are even out the door.

You plop down on the blanket beside Kevin and lean into him. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before passing you the food he brought. You take a bite, sighing at the taste. Kevin knows you better than you know yourself and knew exactly what to get that would satisfy your mounting hunger.

“Thanks babe,” you smile, holding up your fork and offering him a bite. He takes it graciously but makes a face. “What’s the matter?” you laugh as you take the utensil back.

“I fucking hate avocado.”

The two of you eat in relative silence, speaking only when you remember a detail from your morning. Kevin tells you about the drills he’s going to lead at practice in the afternoon and what he plans on cooking for dinner since he’ll be home before you. You insist you can whip something up when you get home but Kevin shakes his head. He reminds you that relationships are give and take, and that you’ve made dinner the past three nights because he had a string of games. You manage to reach a compromise that has you doing the dishes before you have to return to work.

Kevin insists on walking you back to your office even though you protest vehemently. Your relationship is far from secret, and has been the topic of workplace gossip more times than you can count, but after five years you’ve learned to ignore most of it. However, you don’t want your co-workers to think you flaunt your NHL player boyfriend to prove you’re better than them. They all love Kevin, and a couple of them congratulate him on last night’s goal as he follows you down the hall. A few of the newer hires stare in awe and shake his hand, completely blown away that one of Philadelphia’s biggest stars is asking how they like their jobs.

“Pretty soon they’re going to approach you to do PR for us,” you chuckle as you flip the light on and close the door of your office.

His laughter echoes off the walls as a pair of strong arms find a home around your waist. “It would be kind of fun to hear myself crush those radio commercials.”

“Since when do you listen to the radio?”

“Checkmate,” Kevin sighs, pulling you closer. He kisses you quickly, not wanting to give a show to anyone who could be walking past, but it still sends you reeling. You don’t want him to pull away and kiss him again.

You get your way for a few more moments and then Kevin’s leaving with a promise to not burn the house down and wishes for a good rest of the day. Focussed on giving the audit its final once-over you don’t bother pulling your phone from the drawer you had placed it in when you got to work that morning. You turn up the small radio at the corner of your desk and get to work scanning the document for errors. There’s a mistake halfway through that skews the rest of the data and fixing it takes a bit of time, but it isn’t a huge deal. You have nothing else to do except answer a few emails and organize meetings for after the weekend.

An hour or so later you’ve completed all your tasks and debate what to do. It’s too early to leave for the day, so you decide to kill time by checking your phone. You’re expecting a few notifications, perhaps two or three memes in the group chat you share with your friends, but not the hundreds that greet you.

The majority of them are instagram notifications, and assuming they’re just more fans requesting a follow you ignore them, instead heading to your text messages. There’s a picture from Kevin of a dog he found walking home and another from your mom asking why you haven’t called home in a few weeks. However the one from Claude’s wife is the one that piques your curiosity.

Just a heads up that someone posted a pic of you and Kev to one of those stupid wag pages. I filed a request for Instagram to take it down but it’s gotten a lot of traction. Sorry :((

Your heartbeat increases rapidly and a million thoughts fly through your head at a rapid speed. Fingers shaking, you respond with a thanks and open up the dreaded app. You don’t see it immediately, your feed being full of photos belonging to friends and family, but it’s in your messages almost two hundred times. Many of them have text attached and you know there will be a comment about your relationship regardless of which one you open.

Tapping on the most recent message you brace yourself for the worst. The new window opens a photo someone took of you and Kevin while eating lunch in the park across from your office not even three hours prior. It’s grainy and the camera angle is strange, but you’re eating and Kevin is looking somewhere out of frame. The accompanying caption reads Kev and his girlfriend out for lunch today! Follow @philllywagupdates for more :).

You let out a sigh of relief – it could have been a lot worse. Personal pictures of yourself have made it onto pages like that before and most of them they’re paired with mean-spirited captions about your appearance or other trivial matters. Assuming you’re in the clear, you head back to the page of the original message to thank the person for bringing the post to your attention. However, the message accompanying the post is anything but positive.

He can’t even fucking look at you. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you

The blood in your veins runs cold. You know it’s not true – Kevin’s made it clear you’re the one and truthfully you’re just waiting for a ring – but it doesn’t stop the sting you feel. What could possess someone to say such horrible things? You decide not to respond despite, possibly opening another can of worms with the seen function, and close the app. Leaning back in your office chair you focus on anything but your phone, looking out the window at passersby while regaining your breath. It works for a while, but eventually not knowing what others said eats away at you. You go through every single message to see hundreds of similar comments to the first, with only a few saying they’re glad you’re happy or how posting the picture is a violation of your privacy.

By the time you’re finished your spirit has been crushed. However, it’s also an acceptable time to start the weekend – at least no one in the office will have to see you cry. Things are hastily packed into your bag and you wave a few quick goodbyes before once again taking the stairs. You curse yourself for deciding to walk to work that morning and set off in the direction of home wiping away tears. The last thing you need right now is for someone to recognize you, but you have to get home. Tobias Jesso Jr plays at much too loud a volume through your headphones and Kevin will most certainly remind you it’s bad for your hearing, but the melancholy piano riffs of Goon overpower the thoughts swirling around your head.

Do people really feel that way about me?

Are my friends just too nice to stop inviting me places?

Does Kevin really feel trapped?

Hundreds of similar sentiments and situations cross your mind as you stumble through the streets of downtown Philadelphia, but you force them as far back as possible before opening the door to the apartment you share with Kevin. Hoping to slip inside undetected, you take your shoes off slowly and throw your jacket on the end table instead of hanging it in the closet. Your plan fails somehow and Kevin hears you, greeting you in a goofy apron covered in flour.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, but it drops once your eyes meet and he sees the hurt on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, trying to step around him in pursuit of the bathroom.

Kevin doesn’t buy it and sees right through your feeble words. “It’s not nothing if you’re this upset. If you don’t want to talk now that’s fine, but I think you should get it off your chest.”

You know he’s right, but you also know you can’t tell him the true cause of your despair. “Just some work stuff,” you sigh. “The audit got all fucked up and I had to fix it even though it’s not my job.”

It’s not technically a lie, which makes you feel better, and Kevin buys it. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips in sympathy. “Go take a shower and the gnocchi should be ready by the time you’re done. We can spend the night cuddling on the couch.”

“And watching Selling Sunset?”

“We can watch whatever you want sweetheart,” he chuckles. You part from him with a final kiss and head to the bathroom. Hopefully the steam from the water will carry away the negativity brought on by that damn post.

☼☼☼☼

Time passes but the hateful comments on social media don’t stop. In fact, you’re pretty sure they get worse. It’s so bad that you’ve deleted every app except facebook because you need it for work. Kevin doesn’t notice your abstinence from social media, but he picks up on how you spend more time criticizing yourself or staring off into space. When he pushes you either brush him off or feed some bullshit excuse about how work is getting you down. You know he doesn’t believe you but trusts you enough to come to him when you’re ready to talk.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to tell Kevin what’s been going on. There’s been scrutiny from social media before, when you first started dating, but it quieted down after the initial media frenzy. He helped you through that but it’s different this time around. Never before have you had strangers tell you your life is worthless or that your boyfriend should end your relationship. Some of the other wags notice your absence on instagram but chalk it up to you just taking a break. They reach out via the group chat and send wishes to see you at the next home game. It’s nice to know they care, but the voice in your head that has grown much larger in recent weeks tells you they don’t truly mean it. This leads you to decline the invite as politely as possible, citing extended work hours for your absence. In reality you’re too anxious to be anywhere that isn’t home or work, petrified someone is going to post something that will add fuel to the flames of those who interrogate you.

It’s another Friday afternoon, and you’re leaving the office early once again. There’s a small craft exhibition taking place around the corner from work and today is the last day it’s open. You had been meaning to go all week, hoping to find something small to add to Kevin’s birthday gift. As you step out of the building there’s a small group of young women, who don’t look old enough to have graduated college, standing off to the side. It fills you with dread, worried that somehow someone found out where you work and the insults are going to start occurring verbally, but you force yourself to be rational. You work fairly close to one of the artsier districts in the city and it’s more than likely they just want to find a cute mural to take pictures in front of.

You pass by and swear you hear them snicker, but you remind yourself you’ve just been jumpy lately. When they peel from their place on the wall and follow behind at a distance you think the coincidences are running out. It seems a little too strange how their movements line up with yours, and you go down a few winding side streets in an attempt to lose them. Part of you feels ridiculous because what group of barely legal girls would track a full-blown adult around a city of nearly two million people, but your life is currently strange enough you can’t be sure. They don’t follow you, and by the time you reach the market your heart rate has returned to normal.

The first few stalls have little to catch your eye, but a few rows in you find a leatherworker who makes adorable wallets. Kevin’s is ridiculously old and falling apart at the seams – his mom bought it for him before the two of you got together. You think a new one will make a perfect addition to the concert tickets you already bought and browse the table for something simple and elegant. A deep brown one with tan braiding around the edges catches your eye and you know it’s the one for Kevin. Checking the price to make sure you have enough cash in your wallet, you approach the shop owner to purchase. The older man has a kind smile that reaches his eyes as he thanks you for purchasing from him.

“No, thank you for making something so beautiful!” you gush. “My boyfriend is going to love it.”

It’s then you hear it – snickering accompanied by the click of a camera. You look over your shoulder to see the same group of girls from before laughing as they huddle over a cell phone, no doubt already starting to broadcast the photo across the internet. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Those girls don’t deserve to see their mission accomplished, but the longer they laugh at you the harder it is to swallow your feelings.

Head held high, you thank the owner one more time before holding your head high and walking past the group. The only way out is past them so you hold your breath and pray they don’t notice you. Unfortunately you aren’t that lucky, and one of them looks up just as you come into earshot.

“If Kevin doesn’t leave you after that sorry excuse for a gift I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she sneers.

Another one chimes in, “You’re honestly so pathetic.” They all cackle in amusement, and you speed up. The tears flow freely now, and you call an uber even though it will be a ridiculous amount of money. You just want to get home.

The uber driver doesn’t say anything when you get in, though you know it’s strange to be bawling your eyes out at four in the afternoon. You can’t help it – weeks of keeping all the hate to yourself finally got to you and being followed with the sole intent of ridicule is the final straw. At one red light he silently passes you a box of tissues, which you accept gratefully.

Luckily the lobby of your apartment complex is empty and you manage to get to your floor without encountering a familiar face. There’s a few hours until Kevin gets home from his final roadtrip of the season, and if you play your cards right you can get all the tears out and be as normal as possible before he comes through the door. You don’t even bother to put anything away, just head straight to the bathroom to slump against the tub. Sobs rack your body and you lose all sense of time. All you can feel is the hurt you’ve been holding in releasing itself and soaking the material of your blouse.

Kevin finds you laying in the position hours later. He tripped over your shoes coming in the door and immediately knew something was wrong – you always place them neatly on the rack in the closet upon arriving home. Peering through the quiet house for a hint at where you are, he sees the bathroom light on and makes a beeline for the room. It breaks his heart to see you like this, and even more so because he doesn’t know what spurred it on.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he coos, maneuvering his body to sit beside you and pull you into his lap. “What’s the matter?”

You bury your head in his shoulder and clutch the material of his dress shirt as you cry harder at the sound of his voice. Kevin takes your reaction in stride, rubbing circles on your back and working on evening out your breath. He doesn’t pressure you to speak and provides the stability you desperately crave as the world around you spins. An unknown amount of time passes before your tears run out, but spend it all on the bathroom floor curled into Kevin.

“I guess I should have told you sooner,” you mumble, “But I didn’t want to bother you.”

Concern laces Kevin’s features and his eyebrows knit together. “Tell me what?”

“I, uh, have been the subject of some internet hate for the past little bit,” you say sheepishly. It feels stupid to not have told him now, but you can’t change that. “But you were really busy with the season and I wanted to make sure your head was completely focused on the game so I just dealt with it myself. I deleted the apps and tried my best to go about my life. And then today after work I was followed by some people and they said some really hurtful stuff and shit became a little too real.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Why are you sorry Kev? You're Not the one sending me death threats.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair back into your ponytail. “Maybe not, but I still made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was going on. What kind of partner am I?”

“The best one,” you say confidently. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just want to forget about it right now. Can we just disappear for a little bit?”

Kevin wraps his arms around you tighter, as if he can engulf you to protect from the cruel outside world. “We can do whatever you want. If you want to get out of the city for a bit if you want, or just spend the next few days here away from prying eyes.”

“I love you.”

You say it because you mean it, and if you could scream it from the rooftops you would. Kevin is incredibly easy to love, even when you make it difficult for him to love you back. You know another much longer conversation is coming about everything that has happened recently because communication is the only way to solve problems and Kevin deserves that, but you’re thankful he’s willing to put it to rest for a few more moments.

He cracks a smile for the first time since he’s been home and kisses the crown of your head. “I love you too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Always and forever.”

Things are far from over and though you still never want to show your face in public ever again, you know that Kevin is going to do whatever he can to make things better and that’s enough for you.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @ricohenrique @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

ok but consider these 3rd life smp songs: 'the parting glass' for the red kingdom mourning + celebrating skizz after his death and 'stabat mater' by woodkid for the progression of the wars in general ("hey, do you recall when the war was just a game")

this one ended up being kinda long so forgive the "keep reading" haha

gonna start with the second one: Stabat Mater.

In the glorious days till we lost our way Hey, do you recall when the war was just a game? Now the wind ventures to other plains Hey, when will I see you again if I go?

i like that last line especially bc it matches the uncertainty of what happens after they lose their red life. they don't know if they're gonna see each other again. and you're right, the "do you recall when the war was just a game?" really matches the whole situation. when things weren't so serious. when three certain people were still alive.

BUT OH MY GOSH THE OTHER ONE!

(there seemed to be a lot of versions i found so i chose the version by The High Kings)

i can totally imagine the three remaining Dogwarts members sitting together around a campfire singing The Parting Glass. Ren on guitar and singing, while Martyn plays the flute and Etho sings quietly.

Fill to me the parting glass And drink a health whate'er befalls And gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be to you all

But since it fell unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be to you all

those lyrics in particular are so melancholy, and the way they're sung too is beautiful. "that i should rise and you should not" almost made me cry bc it fits the situation so well.

i just gotta say though OH MY GOSH this is one of my new favourites! it's... just so beautiful AND it has a section with bagpipes!! i am a HUGE sucker for bagpipes omg. i recommend anyone reading this to go listen to it at least once, bc it's just... wow. thank you anon for introducing me to this one, whether you meant this version or not lol

[whorefordazai]

want some quotes from 'no longer human‘ bc i have the book and am obsessed with it? ofc you do

here are my favourite quotes

theres more but i didnt bookmark them lol

tw: depressing themes, suicidal themes, the word peepee

notebook one:

'I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind — of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware that they are even deceiving one another.’

’peepee’

notebook two:

’I felt as if i had seen the world before me burst in an instant into the raging flames of hell. It was all I could do to suppress a wild shriek of terror.’

’During the course of my life I have wished innumerable times to be met with a violent death, but I have never once desired to kill anybody. I thought that in killing a dreaded adversary I might actually be bringing him happiness.’

’”To fall for,“ “to be fallen for” — I feel in these words something unspeakably vulgar, farcical and at the same time extraordinarily complacent. Once these expressions make an appearance, no matter how solemn the place, the silent cathedrals of melancholy crumble leaving nothing but an impression of fatuousness. It is curious, but the cathedrals of melancholy are not necessarily demolished if one can replace the vulgar “What a messy business it is to be fallen for" by the more literary "What uneasiness lies in being loved."'

'I chose Sôseki's "I am a cat" from my bookshelf and handed it to her.'

notebook 3, part one:

lol i didnt bookmark nothing

!!again, tw for suicidal themes!!

notebook 3, part two:

'I thought "I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There's no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it's sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. The dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves -- it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin."'

uh, I realise now that I may have gotten carried away and that a lot of people dont have the attention span to read something as long as this 😭 ✌️

sorry besiteis thanks for letting me get my hyperfixation enery out here sksks

i love these lines, they’re a few of my favorites too <3

[writing-red]

Like Father Like Daughter

Father! Remus x Daughter! Reader

Also Reader x Oliver Wood, but lightly, a couple kisses xx

Authors note: I SUCK at time, years, and counting, I do not know what the deal is in 1975 in the HP universe so please please excuse that, merci lovely reader. Also! This was requested over a year ago although, as we know that’s about how long it takes me to write shit.

Request: Remus having a 7th year prefect daughter and not knowing until he teaches her?

Summary: Set during POA

Warnings: ANGST and daddy issues! Death! Bc I like trauma

Word Count: 1.9k

After an incredibly eventful train ride to school, and ensuring that Harry and his friends were okay, Remus hurried up to the headmaster's office. As it was his first year teaching there, and considering all that was going on with Sirius Black Dumbledore scheduled a meeting with the new professor.

“I don’t anticipate it will be an easy year, but no year here is ever easy or simple. Especially since Harry arrived on campus,” Dumbledore said.

“It was nice to see him again, he’s gotten so old, and he looks so much like James,” Remus said, melancholy lacing his voice.

“The boy could use some good positive reinforcement from somebody who knew his parents so personally. Please, do not share information regarding Sirius, I would rather not bring him down. Instead, I would prefer he focuses on his studies. Especially since we have such a talented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course, now is that all for now?” Remus asked as he gathered his things, wanting to spend some time on the grounds before the student's arrival.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this year. I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what Hogwarts has to offer.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, pausing to look at the headmaster, confused by his statement on the school.

“Oh nothing,” Dumbledore said with one of his signature winks.

Remus smiled, unsure how else to respond. “Well, I’ll see you at the feast later tonight.”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, seemingly having forgotten about his odd statement, already focusing on something on his desk.

Meanwhile, Y/n went along with her boyfriend, Oliver Wood to the feast.

“I wonder what kind of crazy shit will happen this year,” you said, thinking aloud.

“Maybe we’ll get a somewhat normal year for once,” he proposed, hopefully. “And a good bloody season.”

“At Hogwarts?” You retorted. “Impossible. And of course you’ll have a good season, you’re the best damn quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

Despite a bit of red flushing his cheeks, Wood brushed off the comment. “I wonder who this years Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said with a shrug.

“Well we’ll see,” he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your feast with Weasley.”

You smiled back at him, “Oh I will, it’s a promise.” you said before splitting, as you went to go meet with Percy Weasley, and Dumbledore before the feast's official start.

The feast went as normal for Y/n, she was mostly preoccupied with seeing friends she hadn’t seen since the last school year ended, and her head girl duties. Being a Gryffindor she felt that the year would present some challenges, considering the difficulties her house had caused in the past two years. Y/n had nothing against Harry Potter, in fact she was quite fond of him, having tutored him in a couple of subjects. Although, she understood the trouble he and his friends were fond of.

Remus on the other hand was unnerved at the announcement of the Head Girls last name, La Rosa. Her being Head Girl meant she was a seventh year, meaning she must have been born in 1976. The math happened in his head faster than Remus would like to admit. Remus absolutely knew a La Rosa in 1975 who managed a disappearing act after a couple of months together, and a small scare of sorts. Although, he brushed off the arithmetic, and Dumbledore’s dubious wink with a large swig of wine, which earned him a judgemental scoff from Snape.

Eventually, of course, the feast ended and the tired first years returned to their rooms while friends and couples reunited, and Filch stalked the halls with Mrs. Norris close behind.

Both Remus and Y/n’s day started off with breakfast in the Great Hall as each had a first period in their schedule. Y/n’s day kicked off with charms, and ended with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She ate breakfast with Oliver and a couple of their friends, yet left early enough so that the two could walk to class together without him being late. They had a couple of classes together but knew that as the year went on their other half would respectively get quite busy.

Y/n was having a fantastic first day, excited for lunch she made her way from the Towers to the Hall, which was abuzz with talk of “Professor Lupin.”

“He let us do actual magic in class!” you heard one third year exclaim with a great deal of excitement.

“I’m just glad he didn’t prattle on about his book deal for the entire period,” some Ravenclaw said to their friend which made Y/n laugh.

“How was Snape?” Wood asked as you sat down next to him, he had sent a couple of letters over summer bragging about how he wouldn’t be taking Potions, and she was.

“The same, angry that he isn’t teaching DADA, now I’m more intrigued by this Professor Lupin,” you responded.

“Merlin, Y/n, it’s the only bloody thing I’ve heard all day!”

“I heard someone earlier say, ‘I’m glad he didn’t brag about his book deal through the whole class.’” You responded with a giggle.

“I can’t believe they ever hired that man,” Wood said with a snort.

With that the two of you started lunch, your friends Ethel and Roberto joining you only a little while into the block.

You had a couple of classes and a free period from the time spanning between lunch and when you finally got to step into Professor Lupin’s class. The buzz about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. had turned into a roar in just a few hours.

Despite being early you were not the first student in the class. It being a seventh-year course there were only eight of you taking the class, and there were already five of your peers sitting at desks. One of which being your boyfriend who had saved you a seat near the front of the class.

“You are late La Rosa,” he rudely teased as you set your things down and sat next to him.

“You know I can go find another seat, right?” As if on cue the last of your classmates filed in and filled the last couple of seats.

“Can you?” He asked with a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“Well Weasley owes me a favor and I’m sure you’d love to sit next to him for the whole three hour period.” “Oh that’s just cruel sweetheart.” Before you could retort your new professor walked into the room, immeadiatley silencing the class. Oftentimes the last class of the day meant students were groggy, and had shorter attention spans than usual, but this class was on high alert.

“Good afternoon, let’s go ahead and introduce ourselves however you deem fit. My name is Remus Lupin, and I am clearly your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year, any questions?”

In response you along with a couple of your peers shook your head ‘no’.

“Fantastic, let’s go ahead and start with our Head Boy, if you could introduce yourself sir?”

Percy excitedly introduced himself to the class, not failing to make the new professor aware of his many, many achievements, after him a slytherin you had a strong level of distaste for, and on it went until you were left as the last student to introduce herself.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/m/n La Rosa, I want to write spell books once I leave Hogwarts, my favorite Quidditch team is Puddlemere, and my favorite food is milk chocolate although I’ve been told chocolate isn’t a food I disagree.” “I have to take your side Miss. La Rosa, chocolate is in fact a food, and deserves its own damn food group,” Lupin shot you a smile, then looked around at the small class. “I feel like you should all be writing down that your professors favorite food is chocolate for when you have to impress me at the end of the year.” 

Remus was genuinely confused by Y/n’s presence. He had decent intuition and something about the seventh year was throwing him off, and it wasn’t bad which honestly only confused him more. He decided it would be better to get ahead of it in order to not let his thoughts ruin his teaching.

“Well that’s it, class is over. Miss La Rosa if you wouldn’t mind staying after class for just a moment?” “Of course professor,” you said.

“Ooh in trouble already?” Oliver said and gave you a peck to which you rolled your eyes. “I’ll see you in the common room later love.” “Don’t forget our meeting tonight Y/n,” Percy said as he sauntered out the room which earned a second eye roll from you. 

Even though it didn’t take long, it felt like an eternity for the room to clear. All of a sudden your throat was in your heart, or, something. Whatever it was something was happening.

“I know this is going to come off as odd but I have an important question,” Lupin said, his eyes kind, no sense of a reprimand coming.

“Sure Professor, what is it?”

“What’s your mothers name?”

You figured he noticed your last name, and had maybe worked with your mum.

“Marie Dulcinea La Rosa,” you said. “Why?”

Remus’ mind started racing at a million miles an hour. “Did she attend Ilvermorny?” “Yes, is everything alright?” “I’m sorry dear, just two more questions.”

You responded with a single nod.

“Did your mother ever tell you who your father is, and are you a werewolf?”

A look of shock crossed your face and you clutched your bag. “I’m not supposed to answer that question professor.” “Y/n, I am, I also dated a Marie La Rosa in 1975, that same Marie attended Ilvermorny.”

“Are you trying to insinuate-”

“Yes.”

You walked out of the classroom as fast as your feet could carry you. You weren’t quite sure where you were going but you were crying and you wanted to be as far away from Remus Lupin as possible and your mind was far to occupied to think up a destination. Somehow that destination ended up being Dumbledore’s office, which by some means was open to you.

“You must have known, you know everything.” Not the best choice of words but it seemed to get the point across.

“That Professor Lupin is your father? Yes dear I did happen to know that.”

“And how long have you known that?” “Since the year you were born, Y/n, your mother and father both fought in the war and your mother came to me when she was pregnant with you. She didn’t want your father to know because she wanted him to stay and fight when she couldn’t. She wanted to raise you away from the war but she couldn’t ask him to abandon the cause.” “Does he know that she’s dead?” “No I am afraid that he doesn’t.” “Marie is dead?” 

You turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the entrance of the office. He was distressed and had clealry followed you to the headmasters office.

You gave a curt nod to answer his question.

“Y/n, I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have ever let your mother think that I would value anything over her and you.”

“You have to know how hard it is growing up a werewolf with absoluetly no help. With no one to help you through your first transition, with no one to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Then on top of that growing up thinking that you were nothing to your father, and losing your mum at 14?”

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a mostly intact chocolate bar and held it out, towards his daughter.

“Let me fix it? Please.” It was a plea, and a kind request, an apology, all tied up in a chocolate bar.

[lochroma]

for the meme you rb'd from me... hrm. marth <3 if you've gotten him by the time you get this though just do whoever you'd like idrc

favorite thing about them

the whole thing, the entire package. also whatever was going on in the manga bc idk he's just :) he's Just a guy. i trust him i love him i would give him my credit card info

least favorite thing about them

i have nothing to say here

favorite line

cliche? yea but "i am a prince before i am a son or a brother" is one of those lines that fills me with heavy melancholy bc you know it hurts him to have to prioritize anyone over those he cares most for, and yet he still does it for the wellbeing of the people... god i love him so much

brOTP

marth and roy! they're... they're Bros... for non smash stuff tho marth n merric bc i love childhood friends so much. also marth and kris but only with the version of kris that lives in my brain (trans and feral)

OTP

i want people to guess this one

nOTP

i guess marth/michalis, or like. most any other smash bros ships. have you seen marth x snake? yea.

random headcanon

he actually hates being the king to archanea and its like, a constant internal struggle of "well this is my duty but i only ever wanted to return to altea and live my relatively quiet life serving the people of our small country. instead they mounted me as a lone hero and now im stuck with this." its terrible!

unpopular opinion

he's not a twink :( he's just a short king okay

song i associate with them

favorite picture of them

ANY mayo image is a good one, but these cards are my fave marths hands down. look at him... the fluffy hair oughgrghgh 🤧💖

[lerpunx]

So I was living my day and suddenly got awfully sad. Because the story has been finished and i can't do anything about it and I know there will be nothing anymore in it to fill the big hole it has left in my heart. You know, that kind of sadness and melancholy, that nothing lasts forever and so one. Besides, summer is about to end too. And I just sit with face of my face (so as we Russian calls it "лицом лица") and want to burst out crying but still don't do it and wish this feeling would go away. It will go away some day, but now I am suffering. I wish someone would erase my memory and I would have an opportunity to fall into it again. Or would take me to the beginning of summer.

Here is my not quite new art which I don't like actually (bc Max is not that ugly!), but I did it just to practice some kind of color palette, lines, portraits, shades and I really enjoyed the process. Not the result. Anyway, it exists.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Fuck Me Up

NSFW Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

requested by anon: Eddie/Venom w/ a girl that has serious daddy kink (bc that’s me) Like she accidentally slipped it out and it just turned on Both Eddie and Venom so freakin much but Eddie just don’t want to admit but venom is like a super freak about it that will be nice thanks

requested by anon:  *slips quietly into the ask box with a hoodie pulled down over their face and slips a little note in before quickly running away into the night* 'What if Venom has a daddy and/or breeding kink?' *as you look at the note all you can think is* 'wtf'

requested by anon:  hello 🅱️🅱️ could you do some kinky eddie/venom x reader where the reader has a daddy kink 👁👄👁 oops maybe some ddlg factors in there

warning:  male dom, explicit smut, daddy kink, oral 

Eddie kicked the door shut behind him as he held your waist in his hands.  Your lips were pressed together tightly.  You had been waiting for this all night.  You had went to a nice dinner with Eddie, it was a treat.  It made you feel special to know he cared so much about you.  

Eddie took you there to make you feel like a princess for a night.  The princess he knew you were, at least to him.  He had been craving you all night.  He wanted you more than anything right now.  Even at dinner, all he could think about was getting on top of you.  He watched you eat, wishing you were putting something else in your mouth.  Venom made sure to play into Eddie’s thought.  “Just wait ‘til we take her home,” he placed the thought inside Eddie’s mind.  He had already been thinking about you, but the monster amplified his feelings.  It took everything in him to keep from growing stiff at dinner.  The little dress you wore only encouraged him more.  Your breasts hung out and your ass was very visible.  Every curve could be seen, nothing was hidden.  It made him more territorial of you tonight.  He could feel Venom stewing inside him anytime any male even slightly looked at you.  Even if it was the waiter asking you for your order, he was angry.  You were his, not anyone else’s.  He only wanted his eyes on you.  He knew he was being dramatic, but that did not matter when Venom got involved.  “We will show her who she belongs to very soon,” he hissed in the back of Eddie’s mind.

He held onto the back of your neck tight, his lips pressing even more firmly against yours.  He had you pinned against the wall next to the door.  He ran a hand down your backside, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.  You moaned at his touch.  Eddie purred at your sound, “Tell me, princess.  Who did you go and get all dressed up for tonight?”  You smiled through his kisses, “You, Ed.”  He grinned, “Oh?  Little ole me?  Is that so?”  Eddie bit his lip.  He ran his hand up your dress, stopping at your soaking opening.  “Oh, God.  Already so worked up, little girl?  I did not know I had this kind of affect on you,” his mouth hung open.  He stuck two thick fingers inside you and began thrusting.  Your head fell back against the wall.  “Damn, you’re so tight,” Eddie growled.  

Eddie nipped at your neck, “Now... tell me, who is it that you belong to?”  Your breath was escaping you.  His fingers pumping inside you had your mind spinning.  “You, daddy,” you spit out.  Eddie’s motions stopped and he pulled his lips from your neck.  His eyes looked into yours, “What did you just call me?”  You felt your cheeks fill with your embarrassment.  “I-I-I’m sorry... I-It just slipped out... I-I-I,” you muttered under your breath.  “Say it again,” Eddie whispered breathlessly.  You bit your lip and whispered, “Daddy.”  Eddie breathed out quickly.  His expression was serious.  “Holy fuck.  You have no idea how much that turns me on,” he whispered.  His breathing became heavy.  A new sensation of running through him.  He felt more dominant than ever.  You were his, and you admitted it.  He placed a firm hand on your neck, “So, you’re daddy’s little girl, eh?  Never thought you’d call me that.  But, God, I am happy you did.”  His hand felt so good on your neck.  He was being so dominant.  You wanted him now more than ever.

Suddenly you felt something crawling up your leg.  “So, we’ve got a new nickname,” Venom growled in your ear.  Eddie’s attention did not leave you even with the arrival of Venom.  Venom wrapped himself around you, making his way under your dress and feeling you.  You shivered at his touch.  Eddie cupped your cheek in his hand, “Oh, the things I am going to do to you tonight.  You have no idea what you’ve done to me now.”  He pressed his lips back to yours, sloppily.  “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you,” he mumbled.  In a swift motion, he picked you up and began carrying you to the bedroom.  Venom stared at you the entire way, his arousal very apparent.  Eddie laid you on the bed gently.  You looked up at him.  He rubbed his hands together as he stood looking over you.  He bunched up your dress, revealing your lace panties.  He quickly pulled them off, throwing them to the floor.  He leaned down and placed a tender kiss against your lips, “How would daddy’s girl feel if he worked a little magic before fully going in?”  You shook your head in agreement.  “That’s what I like to hear,” he groaned.  He knelt down in front of your opening.  He placed your legs on each shoulder.  He pressed his face between them, licking up your slit.  You threw your head back in pleasure, moaning his name.  Eddie bit his lip, “Now, now.  What is my actual name?”  You moaned, “Daddy.”   “That’s more like it,” he growled.  He pressed his face deeper between your legs, his touch began making circles on your clit.  You gripped the sheets below you, balling them up in your hand.  You called out to him, making sure to call him the thing he wanted to be called.  He moved his attention to your inner thigh, kissing and biting it.  He shoved three hefty fingers inside you, pumping them fast.  “Fuck, daddy,” you could feel yourself getting close to the edge. 

Eddie promptly pulled his fingers out of you, standing up.  You whined at his sudden movement.  “Bratty little girl, aren’t you?  Don’t worry, daddy is about to give you the thing you’ve been wanting,” he purred above you.  He pulled his pants down, revealing his member being contained by his boxers.  You bit your lip in anticipation.  He slowly pulled his boxers down, teasing you.  When he finally revealed his long, hard cock you groaned at the site.  You could feel yourself quivering at the site of him.  You suddenly felt Venom wrap himself around you neck, “Now then, tell us what you want us to do to you.”  You moaned, “Fuck me.”  Venom licked your neck, “Who do you want to fuck you, baby girl?”  You groaned.  Eddie grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head.  His cock was resting at your opening, one thrust and he’d be inside.  Eddie looked you in the eyes, “You heard him.  We don’t know who you want to fuck you unless you tell us.”  You licked your lips, “You, daddy.  I want you to fuck me.”  Venom growled in your ear, “Good girl.”  

With one swift motion, Eddie’s cock was inside you.  You screamed out in euphoria.  It was music to Eddie and Venom’s ears.  “Fuck.  Daddy’s little princess knows exactly what he wants to hear,” Eddie moaned.  He thrusted inside you, keeping a steady pace.  Venom kept his grip on your neck, now also holding your wrists above your head.  Eddie held your hips in his large hands.  “Faster, daddy,” you called out.  Eddie smiled, “As you wish.”  He picked up the pace, pounding into you now.  You could feel your orgasm approaching, but you did not want to finish until you knew Eddie would allow it.  “D-Daddy, I-I’m real close.  Do I-I have you-your permission,” you asked.  “Of course, baby.  Cum for me,” he purred.  Your orgasm ripped through you.  Your entire body was tingling from the sensation.  Eddie soon followed after you.  He finished inside you, making sure to fill you up. 

Eddie laid down beside you, pulling you into his arms.  He kissed you on the head, “Daddy’s girl.”  You giggled, “Always.”  

~~~

End

~~

[Tags]

@odetteacanto ~ @chasecharmer ~ @gliderbudgie ~ @ihaveaseriousclownproblem ~ @melancholy-applesauce ~ @katnisswa ~ @true-king-of-monsters ~ @tastemybuns ~ @ashycole ~ @raposinhachan ~ @weebiemo ~ @syiamorea ~ @danielsbransonx ~ @haurashaave ~ @kurochan3 ~ @skrilltia ~ @cutebutpsycho83 ~ @mai-sun-and-stars ~ @lucacangettathisass ~ @mababees ~ @bossyboyd03 ~ @more-than-a-little-sinister ~ @its-sexy-beastington-to-you ~ @emi-leigh16 ~ @sir-skelly ~ @kittywillcutyou ~ @centerhabit ~ @that-mom-friend ~ @lil-brown-furred-boi ~ @thirsty-venom-posts ~ @itaddict ~ @peculiar-monstar ~ @grotesquegabby ~ @sylinica ~ @mccrps ~ @hopelessdisasterr ~ @sarasxe ~ @deaths-maiden ~ @magicaldoremimimi ~ @venomsprincess ~ @sebastianmichaelisthedevilwith ~ @gae-artss ~ @piinkitydrinkity ~ @wintar1234534 ~ @kiratsuyoshi ~ @forgets-me-nots-blue ~ @legoticatrevosa ~ @grand-fanfic-ing-central ~ @therealautobotgirl ~ @raginghealer ~ @avaeda ~ @xcasiferx ~ @goth-pigeon~ @pale-butterfly ~ @abigfanofyours ~ @red-writer13 ~ @meganthemug~ @winterwendig0 ~ @nicimixerxoxo ~ @fandomtrashgoddess~ @cinnabearice ~ @moose-squirrel-asstiel~ @caughtyoulackin ~ @ellar21 ~ @snow-massacre ~ @iliketurtles1022 ~ @crazyfreckledginger ~ @impossiblepickleherringsoul ~ @roman-reigns-princess ~ @sincerelysinister ~ @hey-its-caroline ~ @torntaltos ~ @izzyd ~ @siliethkaijuy ~ @killercatastrophe ~ @tattoedgipsybunny ~ @orphan-kilig ~ @sassysergeant ~ @kellendriaaa ~ @mrshiddlescumberbatchlove ~ @undertaleandotherfandomlover ~ @bijou-pomme ~ @allkundsofwrong ~ @bloody-jinxx ~ @skywolf-kink-boy ~ @rueinn ~ @skatedate67791 ~ @the-sea-hawk ~ @pendent123 ~ @emmamikaelson95 ~ @markusstraya ~ @tifablog ~ @im-marie-poppins-yall ~ @lets-venom-and-chocolate ~ @homeiswheremykittyis ~ @taliarozlyn ~ @douchecrypt ~ @sierra884-blog-blog ~ @abundant-chaos ~ @chanderefk ~ @majestic-kpoppanda ~ @symbiote-queen ~ @thirstyforvenom ~ @starguardian319 ~ @shadeyenora ~ @brokenpizzapiez ~ @marvelfangirllll ~ @waltz707 ~ @cherubclover ~ @cosmic–dragon ~ @midnightwritingrussiancoffee ~ @vengealis ~ @majestic-kpoppanda ~ @izzy-the-ginger ~ @cryalluwant2idc ~ @weirdfuckingtrainwreck~ @cart-disguised-as-a-buggy ~ @jaxcliffaconda ~ @ceylon-morphe286 ~ @war-and-chaos ~ @captaindrholmes ~ @xsmallplum ~ @sinningsummers ~ @nmagawida ~ @baoxiii ~ @strawberrysuperhero ~ @queen-of-eggyolks ~ @that-one-smart-american ~ @seachelle-the-tideborn ~ @pennysgirl ~ @richietoaster ~ @whitestar-16  ~ @omg-the-nutella-queen  ~ @that-one-smart-american  ~ @cosmic–dragon ~ @shaderwaii ~ @yangfire08 ~ @raceylacy ~ @emo-kitty-love ~ @sadboysclub11 ~ @mawkishmondays  ~ @sthorkronstrangy ~ @bokchoishota ~ @voyagestothestars ~ @the-lululemon~ @bear-rose123 ~ @mynahx3 ~ @alli-cat99 ~ @onebymanynames ~ @hebambi555 ~ @cassiopeia-barrow ~ @alledeglyfunny ~ @roryshitposts~ @x6-15 ~ @alex–awesome–22 ~ @deepdarkvoidchild ~ @nickyl316h ~ @nomajdetective ~ @randomshizzles101 ~ @fillechatoyante ~ @venoms-cave~ @shadymegan ~ @ultrasparkledeath ~ @infinitytheproxy3 ~ @whitestar-16 ~ @coralineexz ~ @i-like-dark-stuff ~ @missotaku34 ~ @momostuffsblog ~ @crazyminnesotagirl ~ @the-cake-isnt-a-lie ~ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow ~ @fosterthe-peter ~

\\ If you no longer want to be tagged in my Venom x Reader Fics, please do let me know. Or if you would like to be tagged in future posts, let me know! //

[bthump]

Favorite Guts/Serpico moments?

particularly since it comes after their genuine attempt to kill each other earlier that same day

Like for Serpico, putting himself in harm’s way is something he regularly does for Farnese, and only does for Farnese, and did for Farnese (against Guts) a few hours prior to this. This is a great indication that his priorities and loyalties are expanding beyond Farnese.

During the duel we got this monologue:

“He truly is strong. Unbelievably so. I am a man generally disassociated from intense emotion. I adapt to my circumstances and fill the role I am given. That is my style. Even in situations that seemed more or less unreasonable, my mind was at rest. Adapt... no. Perhaps my mind was merely benumbed. But as I encountered you and shared in your journey... it would seem not only Lady Farnese, but I too changed considerably. You clash head-on with your own destiny. Compared to my cooled demeanor, that is a life similar to being scorched by hellfire itself. While I arrayed myself in feigned ignorance, perhaps before I knew it, I too was affected by that heat.

You are certainly... a man impossible to ignore.

I felt ineffectual, but happy, that Lady Farnese was being changed by you.

And that’s why... I’ll never allow it. I won’t allow that to happen...!”

And I’m js you can read this as Serpico making a last-ditch effort to kill Guts for Farnese’s sake because he knows he’s getting kind of attached to him and doesn’t actually want to kill him any more, and is maybe even considering how he’s growing less exclusively attached to Farnese and actively trying to resist that change by trying to kill Guts here. And along with that you can make some pretty sweet comparisons to both Griffith and Casca. It’s much more low-key, but all three duels have that “you’re a threat to the thing/person I’ve centred my life around” vibe, they have some consistent visuals, and they all have that “yes, this is indeed a real, “serious” fight where death is a possibility,” moment.

And after he loses Serpico gives up and goes all in with Guts. He doesn’t like, toss Farnese aside lol the way Griffith throws away his dream and Casca decides to try to move on from Griffith and leave with Guts, buuuut after this we start seeing more of those ‘Serpico on the outside looking in on Farnese and her new life and being kind of melancholy about it’ moments. I could see this maybe leading to a separation of the RPG group with Serpico on Guts’ side and Farnese with Casca. Or, more cynically lol, since Guts destroyed Griffith’s dream and also Griffith maybe Serpico’s fears will come to fruition and he’ll destroy Farnese too. Hopefully not though.

The point is, it’s a great significant moment for Serpico, defending Guts the same way he’s defended Farnese in the past, and could be indicative of the direction their relationships might take in the future.

And now for Guts, this moment is a giant parallel to the first Zodd encounter.

We’ve seen Guts willing to abandon a fight exactly twice: first Zodd encounter, and this most recent Zodd encounter. Both times a cute guy stepped up to face the monster with him and told him to stop fighting and leave. (Casca has also tried to tell Guts to stop fighting and leave a few times, but it doesn’t work for her for some reason...)

Anyway, first time, Guts and Griff had a meaningful conversation and Guts decided the Band of the Hawk was his new home and lived happily ever after for a few weeks. Second time is presumably a culmination of Guts’ relationship with the rpg group as a whole, and yeah Casca gets her moment to coo meaningfully before Guts makes his decision to not fight, but it’s still Serpico in Griffith’s place, defending him from the monster and convincing him to give up the fight.

Like Guts abandoning fights is the most significant indicator of personal growth and emotional security he gets. Guts didn’t want to fight Zodd again after Griffith ran in to save him for ~no reason in particular, he wanted to fight Zodd again after overhearing the Promrose Hall speech and deciding to abandon the Hawks. Guts was prepared to abandon his sword swinging plan to settle down and take care of Griffith in the lead-up to the Eclipse, and after the Eclipse he went on a 3 year rampage.

Guts saying “see ya” to Zodd is the emotional climax to his side of the Millenium Falcon arc, and while it’s probably meant to reflect his personal growth in regards to his relationships with the entire rpg group with an emphasis on Casca, Serpico still gets the spotlight.

And he gets the spotlight not just for being the one to step up, but also because he’s the last person to properly join Guts (other than Casca, who imo probably/hopefully has a separate role, and the newbies who don’t count). Like we got Puck’s moment first at the end of the Lost Children arc when Guts lets him move in with him, Isidro and Farnese when they join him at the start of the Millenium Falcon arc, then Schierke solidifies her choice to be there after the rescuing Kushan kids adventure, and the last section of this arc is for Serpico to finally shift from being a hanger-on for Farnese’s sake to accepting his own loyalty to Guts for Guts’ sake and choosing to trust him, and the climax of that is this moment when he steps between Guts and Zodd.

Like I don’t want Guts to live happily ever after, I want him to die with Griffith, but if he had to grow as a person due to his new relationships and live happily ever after then as far as I’m concerned Guts/Serpico should be canon bc it just makes the most sense.

Also since you asked for moments plural shout out to their very first fight and the way it continues the homoerotic introductory duel tradition

[lemonietrinket]

Loved ||| WayV x Reader

Summary: Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. And so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet. Genre: Angst, but then lots of Fluff to make up for it!! And humour too bc i think im funny Warning(s): Detailed description of hardcore crying, no mention of reasons why, just left as a very bad day Word Count: 12k how the hell- Theme Song: The Flower (feat. Maximilian Hecker) - Leo; Heart Flutter - W24 AN: Request from @idont-knowabrian, I’m sorry I am depresso and thus have to make it so depresso by extension. I hope it wasn’t too angsty for you, I added lots and lots of fluff after to make up for it!! Aaaaaannd sorry for the real big wait.

EDIT: Check out the updated version here!

~~~

It had taken all of your strength to not cry on the way home on the bus. There were too many people around for you to let the tears fall, but you’d bitten your lip so hard it bled and had held your breath until you were heaving. You tried your best, turning your head into the glass and staring into the darkness outside, praying that no one turned to look back at you or your reflection.

As soon as you got off at your stop, unable to utter a ‘thank you’ to the driver which made you feel even worse (if that were even possible) your defences began to break down. 

Tears streamed down your face in the frozen evening air, slipping between your trembling lips and the salt tingling on the tip of your tongue. Your nose ran viciously because of the wind, which also mussed up your hair causing you even more frustration as you tried to hold it out of your face, only for it to cover eyes uncomfortably again.

Your voice seeped into your breath as you tried to remain silent, strained whines at the effort it took to not openly weep as you needed to, whilst you prayed endlessly that no one would pass you by on the street and see the mess you were in.

Fumbling with your keys, just inches from being inside and away from the world, almost sent you over the edge. The key had got caught in one of the keyrings and with your shivering fingers and blurry vision, it seemed the world was kicking you while you were down. 

A sob rose in your throat, and you forced it down as best you could, until finally you crashed into the house, bags toppled by the oven. Slamming the backdoor behind you with a strength you didn’t realise you had left, you slipped to the floor and sobbed so hard no noise came from your body. 

Your chest constricted upon itself, ribs very nearly bruising your lungs and heart, until you finally caught some air and howled.

You were ashamed of how you must have looked, sprawled on the kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, no doubt with a muddied skirt and torn tights and hands pressed into wet footprints upon the linoleum floor. 

If you’d been told to write the worst day you could have, today took that itinerary and then dragged it through hell. 

You didn’t have the energy to stand, even if the puddles from outside that your shoes had dragged inside were being soaked up by your shirt, barely tucked in beneath your belt anymore. 

You wished that no one would see you in this state. But the world wasn’t particularly on your side. 

You just about heard the footsteps outside, before the door opened. You didn’t bother to look up. You didn’t want to know who it was, you just wanted them to go away. 

The sharp inhale that pricked at your ears only made you cry harder, the tears dripping from your cheeks and dappling the woollen sleeves over your arms.

The door closed, and the person knelt down beside your head.

The voice was hushed and filled with concern, “Y/N...!”

The man’s palms hovered above you, unsure of what the situation was and what to do about it.

It was Kun. Soft, caring, and extremely worried.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a broken cry was the only sound you could make.

“Y/N, are you...?! Ar you hurt?! Sick?!” he exclaimed, lightly brushing your hair from your face to try and understand what was wrong. “What’s wrong love? P-please, I don’t...” 

You shook your head as best you could, and as soon as he felt the wet streams upon your cheeks he seemed to understand.

“Oh, love, oh...” he trailed off, unable to find the words. Seeing you like this hurt him beyond explanation. Slipping off his shoes as quickly as he could and discarding them by the door, he reached his arms under your shoulders. “Come on, love, let’s get you up.”

He scooped you up nearly effortlessly, as you became a rag doll in his hands, limp as you head span, your weeping having constricted most of the air out of you, abandoning you to feel the consequences.

Your feet dragged as the two of you slowly made your way through the house and up the stairs. You were barely putting in any effort, too ebbed with melancholy to do so, and you quickly realised Kun was practically carrying you, doing all the heavily lifting. 

It almost made you break into fresh tears at the thought, when Kun murmured in your ear softly, “It’s ok, love, it’s going to be ok.”

It seemed that he was unfazed by your lack of input, continuing to hold you close as he whispered tiny instructions and words of support while helping you stumble into your bedroom. 

He set you down on your bed with a gentle sigh, folding some of the clothes you’d discarded on the covers that morning and moving them out of the way. “There you go, we made it upstairs.”

He came back to push the hair from your face, wiping your eyes firmly with his hand as he held it at your cheeks. “Though those clothes need a wash, love, they’re a little bit mucky.”

You felt your eyes prickle up once again, as you choked on an apology. “I... it’s m-my... fault I—the floor, I’m such... such an—”

He shushed you, stroking your hair desperately, instantly kneeling to the floor so he was closer to your head height. “Love, sweetheart, it’s ok! It’s ok, it’s not your fault!”

He cursed at the carelessness of his words. 

“The only thing is that we’ll need to get you out of these and into new ones, is what I mean, love,” he explained delicately, “I’ll go and get a new set out for you so you don’t have to do as much, and don’t worry about all the washing and drying, I’ll do all of that for you too.”

His kindness was tugging at your heart, smashing it to pieces in your vulnerable state, only to pull it all back together again.  You didn’t feel worthy of his care, but on the other hand all you wanted was him to stay and never leave you.

He stood with a final rub of your temple, enquiring which drawer had your pyjamas in them.

You shivered as you tried to work up the energy to answer him, instead barely raising a finger to the drawer second from the top of the case.

It dropped to the mattress as soon as he nodded, pulling out the warmest set he could find and placing it at your side. “You going to be alright?”

You lifted your hand to try and pick them up, only to discover it was so heavy you couldn’t lift it. You whined in frustration, which led him to immediately kneel on the carpet again.

“What’s wrong, love, do you have the energy?” he asked. “Are you too tired?”

You nodded once, which was all you could really manage. If you’d been more awake you would have questioned where all your energy had gone to specifically, never having been this lethargic before, but—and quite fairly—that would be a question for later.

You didn’t want to cause Kun anymore stress, but once again he understood. “That’s alright, love. I’ll help you then, ok?” 

He didn’t move until you explicitly agreed. In this case, it came out as another bow of the head, and another apology. “T... thank you... I’m s-so sorry, Kun...! I just-t...!”

“It’s ok, Angel, you don’t need to apologise. I’ve got you,” he assured, hushing your babbling and helping you to your feet again.

You went limp again at his words, leaning into his shoulder and focusing only on the warmth you found there. He swiftly unzipped your skirt and, after setting you back on the bed, retrieved it from your feet, throwing it surprisingly haphazardly over the back of your desk-chair. 

Raising the hem of your shirt, now freed and hanging loose, he gently dipped his fingers under the seam and began to roll them down your hips and legs, lifting you slightly whenever necessary.  The ripped tights were discarded just as the skirt was, whilst you pulled your legs up and together, desperately trying to retain heat. Your room had always been cold, though you hadn’t felt the full brunt of it until now. 

As the goosebumps rose upon your skin, Kun returned. Instinctively, he placed a hand on one of your thighs, rubbing along to try and restore some heat, as his other hand unfolded the baggy trousers of your pyjamas.

Slipping them over your feet and up to your hips, he moved onto your blouse, undoing several buttons and pulling it over your head. Stroking some strands of hair that had become dishevelled out of your eyes, he shifted to retrieve the pyjama shirt and place it over your hunched torso.

Once your head had appeared from the collar, he sent you a small, sweet smile, guiding your arms into the sleeves and pulling it finally the rest of the way. 

All done.

“Feel a little more comfortable?” His hand was at your temple again, fingers tracing tiny circles into the skin there. 

You tried to pull your eyes up to meet his gaze, but finding yourself lolling, you settled on another nod.

“Do you want to go downstairs?” he asked. 

Lethargically, you managed to reach your hand to his shoulder, attempting to haul yourself up as an affirmation.  He rolled with your action, aiding you up again, and back down the stairs.

Eventually you were on the centre of the sofa, all the remotes beside you, and Kun was stood to head to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some food? Ramyun will be good right?” he hesitated. “Or grab you some blankets, anything you need.”

You hummed sadly, trying to draw your lips together to speak.

“Yes, love?” He was so patient.

“I...” you swallowed, hands tiredly lifting away from your body and towards him, as outstretched as you could manage, “w-want a h...hug...”

His features softened even further, if that were even possible, his eyes regarding you carefully as his lips curled into a smile.

Before he could answer—and make no joke, his answer would have been to take a seat beside you and instantly take you into his arms—there was a clatter, as the door opened. Several voices swarmed over one another, littered with giggles and whoops as they bickered in the falling darkness.

Kun’s head turned to the backdoor, and he nodded as he saw the face of one of the members through the doorway. “I think you can get a really big one, now,” he remarked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Not quite understanding the situation, you merely pouted, feeling the burn in your heart as your mind spiralled.  He’d said no. He didn’t want to hug you. He didn’t like you, really.  You were merely a—

“Angel, I can’t leave them in charge of cooking can I?” Kun explained with a chuckle, thumb brushing a single stroke across your cheek. “Please don’t be sad, love, I’ll hug you later I promise.”

“Promise?” you asserted.

“With my whole heart.”

His words threw your own through a loop. 

Kun meanwhile called out to the others, “Welcome home! You’re late, but I’ll let it slide if you come here and help me.”

There was a couple of confused ‘eh’s until a few familiar faces came into the room, shrugging of their coats. 

You almost broke into a fresh tears as you saw Yukhei’s bright, sunny smile drop from his face when he laid eyes on you.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed, glancing at Kun for an explanation.

At the sound of his deepset shout, Sicheng leant out from behind the giant puppy’s shoulders to see what Yukhei was so upset about. He too went from quietly happy to extremely concerned at the sight of your reddened cheeks.

You quickly became very embarrassed. You hadn’t been cute crying, exactly, and you figured you looked like a dazed, tear-stained mess. 

That was when Ten slipped past the two of them abruptly, running over to you before you could even cry in surprise. 

“No no, no...!” he cooed, perching very carefully on the edge of the sofa, body turned completely towards you as he extended his hands to your face. He dabbed at your mottled cheeks rather frantically, the coolness of his fingers making you shiver, as they were chilled the winter, whilst your skin had been made hot by tension and stress.

“No, baby, are you ok? What’s wrong? What happened?” He glanced back at Kun who was heading through into the kitchen. “Kun, is it just my hands or is she running a fever?” Before you could answer he continued, eyes shining, “Are you hurt? Sick? Did someone hurt you?”

“They better not have hurt you!” Yukhei interjected, leaning over the back of the sofa. “If they did then you tell me their names, Y/N,” he said diligently, “I’ll make sure they never even look at you again I swear—!”

Sicheng rolled his eyes, a light scoff drifting from his lips as he patted Yukhei’s shoulder once, before heading round to the chair opposite you. “It’s ok, Ten, she’s not dying.”

He’d said it with a joking lilt an a gentle tone, but Ten’s mouth hung open as he shot him a look. “I know she’s not, but she’s upset and I’m not having that!”

“Neither will I!” Yukhei emphasised, folding his arms proudly.

“Yukhei, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried,” Ten sassed, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, if my girl is not sick, and not physically hurt, then I know exactly what she needs, don’t I?”

As soon as he grinned at you, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your own lips lift. And, much like a chain reaction, as soon as he saw you brighten, even if only slightly, his smile grew into a beam.

“My girl wants hugs, doesn’t she?” he murmured, giddily tapping his finger against the tip of your nose.

You couldn’t avoid emitting a squeak at the contact—his fingers were too cold—but rationale had also left you in some parts, perhaps, as you nodded eagerly, dragging your arms up and throwing them out to welcome him in.

Ten slipped back on the sofa, pulling you into his chest protectively. He was careful to place his hands where they wouldn’t touch your skin, but also where you would know he was there, and so he nestled one into your waist and the other upon the back of your head. 

Adjusting your position only slightly to lessen the pressure off the bridge of your nose, you settled you face in the nook of his neck, fingers laced in his shirt, as you took in the scent of his cologne. He must have several varieties but this one was easily your favourite—whatever it was. It was light, but deep and welcoming, with the openness of a spring day but the independence of a lucid dream, which was kind of how you felt held so close to his heart.  You could feel it beating against your arm, seeping through your sleeves and sinking into your skin, through to your own heart, which skipped as soon as the thought of it all struck your conscious mind. 

You very nearly forgot about the others around you, though as soon as you’d been dipped into the waters of serenity, you’d been pulled out by your own awareness.

Ten was stroking your hair gently, though his touch was shallow to avoid both knots and making you shiver. Kun was instructing Yukhei about something, words just out of reach for you to piece together, but no sooner than he’d finished, the boy had yelled, “group hug!” and had bounded around the sofa. You couldn’t see Sicheng, so had no idea what he was doing, but you heard a chuckle that sounded like his. And a second after you’d questioned the reasoning behind his amusement, you felt a weight crash behind you, as Yukhei joined you two on the couch.

Ten snapped up out of surprise, indicating he perhaps hadn’t seen in coming either, and with his hand leaving your head, you pressed yourself up slightly to try and get a better look at what happened.

It was no use however, because you were knocked back against Ten with a yelp from both of you, as Yukhei practically slammed his weight against your back.

Ten hauled you up as best he could so you weren’t stuck in a folded position but what you had ended up in nonetheless was still not overly comfortable. As you glanced at him you could see his lips wavering, formulating a sentence to most likely scold Yukhei with. But there was no need, as you felt a pair of much longer arms encircle you and pull you more upright, a chin coming to rest surprisingly neatly on your shoulder.

“Hi, Y/N!” Yukhei sang, tapering off into a giggle as he gave you a tiny squeeze.

You laughed bemusedly, relieved to be alive, but also welcoming the warmth from the other side. Yukhei was in fact much warmer, to the point he could be described as an actual radiator, and with him smushed against your back you felt extremely secure.

And, after a few seconds of his eyes evaluating the sight he could see but you could not, it seemed that Ten appeared to accept it eventually too. Even with you practically stolen from his arms, he laughed it off, identifying that he could be perfectly comfortable laying into you rather the other way round.

With roles reversed, Ten slipped a hand up to your collarbone, resting his head just above the other, and seeking the opportunity to wrap one of his legs over yours, which was jutting out over the side of the sofa. 

Now you could see the room more clearly, and, with a tired laugh, you waved at Sicheng who was watching the borderline catastrophe with a confused but delighted grin on his features. There was a shade to his eyes though, something that you couldn’t quite place. 

Peering over Ten’s head, you could see Kun leaning against the doorway, smiling proudly, as if the whole thing had been his doing. Though thinking back to Yukhei’s sudden but most likely inevitable surprise attack, it maybe had been.

“Hi...!” You waved at him too, leading him to chuckle.

“Hello,” he replied, “you look better already.” And with a brief scrunch of his nose, he was pushing himself off the wall’s edge and heading into the kitchen. 

You pressed you chin into the crown of Ten’s head, smiling tightly as quiet settled over the room.

You loved all of them, you honestly did, and you would never do without their bickering and yelling and screeching laughter. But it was relieving to hear peace every once in a while, with the only sound being the sound of steadied breaths—two pairs of which had become more-or-less synonymous with your own. 

“You sure you don’t want to join us, Chengie?” It was Yukhei that spoke. You could have bet a million with certainty that it would be him that broke the silence. Man could never stay quiet for long, which was often one of the most endearing parts about him, as it often led him to some extraordinary lengths to find something, anything to say, crafting absolutely wonderful results. A lot of what Yukhei had to say ended up becoming in-jokes for all eight of you in the house, and at least a quarter of them were from situations like these.

Unfortunately, this one didn’t spark much interest.

Sicheng shook is head once, voice neither amused nor melancholic, answering, “No. But thank you.”

“Oh, ok!” Yukhei’s response was bright as usual. “More space for us!” He punctuated his words with another, tighter squeeze, which made you cry out in mildly strained laughter. 

“Yukhei!”

“Dear lord...” Ten sighed, rolling his body-weight to allow his voice to carry into the kitchen. “Kun! When are the kids getting back? Yukhei’s getting boisterous again!”

You poked Ten’s side, making him jump. He flicked his head away from your neck to look you in the eye, immediately flipping into a pout complete with puppy eyes. “Hey...! What was that for...!”

“Play nice Ten,” you asserted gently, reaching out to pull him back down. He’d left your torso open to the cold with his retreat and you missed him within seconds. Luckily he wasn’t in a snarky mood, or had accurately read the situation and had worked out it wouldn’t be a good idea to get mischievous and tease you, and so he came straight back down. Though his grip was a little firmer once he’d reestablished it, with one now warmer hand finding its place upon the bare skin below the hem of your shirt, shielding it from the chill of the room while simultaneously making your heart beat just that little bit quicker.

.

.

.

The kids, as Ten had dubbed them, arrived not long after, just as the delicious scent of Kun’s famous cooking began to fill the whole room to the brim. They stepped into a delightfully warm house, their faces reddened from the cold outside, and immediately were stripping themselves free of their coats, as the temperature difference made them feel too warm to cope.

Ten and Yukhei had finished their tussle over you, leaving you to rest in peace between the two of them. Sicheng had taken out his phone a while ago, ocassionally showing you funny memes and pictures he found. You didn’t really understand some of them, and he had to explain them, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, even if that same shadow tinted his eyes again as he did it. 

Xiaojun regarded the sight of the three of you piled on the sofa with curiosity, to say the least, brows furrowing as he let the two behind him pass. Yangyang barely scraped a glance at you, until he came back and saw it properly, smirking. “What is this?” 

“Y/N was feeling sad, so we had to come and cheer her up!” Yukhei explained, knocking his head into yours like a puppy.

“By... piling on the sofa?” 

“What’s wrong Yangyang?” Ten snickered, before cooing, “Do you feel left out that I’m not babying you too?”

Yangyang narrowed his eyes defiantly at the elder, who merely stuck his tongue out.

“Yangyang, you can join us if you want,” you interrupted cleanly, the wobble in your voice long gone. 

“Can I?!” Hendery called from behind the two stood in the walkway, slipping through to poke his head around Xiaojun where you could see him. His lips were curved into a tiny little smile, eyes wide and clear and glimmering in hope for a ‘yes’.

“Of course!” you replied, hand leaving Ten’s back and beckoning both Yangyang and Hendery over. 

“I don’t think there’s any room,” Xiaojun remarked, exhaling amusedly, “you might have to take it in turns.”

At this, you felt both pairs of hands’ grips tighten, as if in reflex. 

“But!” Yukhei stuttered in defence. “But I’m—”

Ten whined, “No, I’m comfy. You’ll have to drag me off yourself.”

Sicheng looked up from his phone. “Not sure that’s a wise idea, Ten, you’re the lightest one here.”

As Yangyang and Hendery glanced at one another, grins affirming before snapping back to begin stepping over to the smaller link in the chain, Kun declared from the kitchen.  “Dinner’s ready! Come get it! And someone can come and get Y/N’s for her—no complaining about that either, she’s had a tough day.”

But no one complained. In fact, it became more of a rush to get in the kitchen first, to collect their food because they were starving or because they wanted to be the one to grab your serving, you couldn’t tell.

Yukhei was swayed by food, which you had anticipated, and with a final, almost crushing squeeze, he slipped out from behind you, leaving you to adjust yourself to not fall over while supporting Ten upon your front.

This was because Ten was not affected as severely by the thought of dinner, and instead remained upon you, pressing himself against you as best he could.

“Can’t we stay here and eat dinner?” he mumbled into your shirt.

“I don’t think Kun would ever allow that.” You giggled. “Not after last time.”

Ten sighed, before shouting back, “Kun! Can Y/N eat her food on the sofa?!”

“No!” The man’s response was immediate. “Not after last time!”

“See,” you snorted, “told you.”

Ten rolled his eyes, sitting up reluctantly, then stretching his arms and back. “Fine. Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

.

.

.

Dinner was a ruckus, as usual. You cram eight people around a table and it will always be noisy, due to the sheer number of people. But then you make half of those people crackheads and the others happy to allow them to be crackheads Then you’ve got a table of chaos.

With the conversation flitting every few seconds, words bouncing from one side of the room to the other to a rhythm of laughter, many would probably have arranged to sit in their rooms to dine, but you would never dream of doing such a thing. 

Hearing the banter, weekly in-jokes and teasing was necessary, as it always lifted your spirits. As long as you weren’t upset at the time they picked on you. 

Luckily the previous cuddling had worked, and you were back to feeling ok, your problems not seeming so impossible anymore. 

However, ‘ok’ was not good enough for the others, and you knew they wouldn’t leave you at just that. Besides, you had a promise to keep to the two youngest.

As soon as you spotted the natural lull in conversation, you jumped in, “Do you guys want to watch a film tonight?”

Your suggestion was met with a flourish of agreement, only that two faces also fell. One tried to hide it somewhat valiantly, no doubt to protect you from feeling bad. The other didn’t possess the finesse for this as such, and more-or-less openly sulked at the dining table. You looked to the two of them. “Ten? Yukhei?”

“SuperM,” Ten remarked, voice monotonous, “meeting on tour dates.”

You let out a small ‘ah’ in understanding. You attempted to look on the brighter side. “There’s always next week...!”

Yukhei nodded sadly, while Ten huffed earning him a side-eye from Kun. 

“In my defence,” he began, “they’ve worked out all the dates that don’t clash for us. It’s 127 they’re having trouble with, and the managers there can’t seem to do basic maths, because they’ve confirmed two lots of dates that don’t actually work. It must be driving Taeyong mad over in Korea.”

“Why do you need to be there, then?” Yangyang asked.

“We don’t,” Yukhei emphasised.

Ten sighed. “No I think we do. Even if we’ve outlined our schedules a hundred times, we still need to be in the room while they set the dates, for legal reasons. It’s just that guy is driving me up the wall. He never lets us talk on these meetings, and I’m sick of subtly dropping hints to his boss about it.” He stood, offering to take the others’ empty bowls and plates. “Guess tonight won’t be very peaceful, but it’ll be worse if we don’t leave soon.” As he leant over the table to collect your bowl, he whispered, “I’ll be here pretty much all tomorrow though. You?”

You nodded, trying to still the beating of your heart picked up in tempo following the wink he sent you in response.

Yukhei collected the remaining utensils in one hand, giving everyone individually a big wave with the other.

“What are you going to do?” Xiaojun enquired. “About the ‘guy’, I mean?”

Ten shrugged. “Guess if he tries anything this time, he’ll face the pure wrath of this bad bitch.”

“Ten!” you cried in faux shock, a gasp quilting the air. “What have we said about swearing in front of the child!”

Laughter erupted as everyone synchronously looked at Yangyang, who was sending you an exaggerated scowling pout. “For the last time, I am not a child!”

“Oh yes that’s right, you’re not a child, Yangyang,” Kun interjected plainly, leading the table to hush as each person accepted his words as an instruction to quieten. Except everyone was wrong.  Kun glanced at you with a suprisingly sly smile, and then at Ten, before looking Yangyang dead in the eye, and said, “You’re baby.”

There was a chorus of boisterous, teasing ‘OHHH!’s as Yangyang accepted his fate as ‘burned’.

.

.

.

You bid the two of them farewell, hearing them slip out of the backdoor, but you barely caught Kun as he seemed to follow them. You very nearly leapt into the kitchen, hearing a car door slam, eyes searching for the leader. 

"Kun?”

The man jumped just outside, halting his motion to shut the door as you poked your head into sight. “Oh, Y/N. Is everything ok?”

You nodded, humming, though pulling your shirt further up to your chin to try and retain some heat in combat with the cold outside air. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, giving them a lift, so they don’t have to walk, since it’s cold out,” he sheepishly apologised, “I should have mentioned it, sorry. You can start the film without me, I don’t mind.”

“Oh, ok,” you mumbled. You had been about to say you’d make sure everyone waited for him, as you were aware the drive wouldn’t be long, but his words had stopped you in your tracks. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. I promise I won’t be long.”

You tried to lift your arms in time to request that hug he owed you, but the door had closed before he likely even saw you in the darkness of the kitchen.

There was a slosh of water that made your ears prick up, leading you to turn towards the sink. You’d barely noticed Xiaojun there, doing the washing up (as he’d been elected to by Kun as he left the table). Though it was no surprise, since he’d been practically silent the whole time. And he was doing it in the dark.

“You alright, Y/N?” he enquired, adding more hot water to the bowl.

“I could ask the same about you?” you glanced around the room, looking for the lightswitch. “Has the bulb gone again?”

“No, the light’s fine.”

“Oh, well...” You made your way over to the switch.

“Don’t turn it on,” he announced, tipping his head over his shoulder. The lights from the next room crystalised in his eyes, azure-gold and tracing a diamond upon his cheek. It illuminated the curve of his lips, as he spoke again, quieter this time, “Come here.”

You did what he asked, brushing his shoulder with yours as you came to his side. You tried to meet his gaze, looking up to his face and drawing across his features. You got distracted by the shine of his silver hair, tracing down his skin and curling round the shell of his ear so neatly. Plush lips parted as he spoke and you raised your eyes to meet his, only to have him turn away at the last second. You were left with no choice but to follow where he was looking. 

“Look, out there,” he whispered, gently placing a plate at the bottom of the bowl.

You peered into the garden, dimly lit by the light from the living room dancing beyond you, next door’s garden light and nothing more—the sky starless and as dark and thick as ink. You couldn’t see anything, and it disheartened you to have to explain it to Xiaojun, who was clearly much more excited than you were.

“Jun? I can’t see anything,” you murmured, but he hushed you suddenly, leaving you to slam your lips shut, heart pinched.

After a few seconds he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper, “We have to be really quiet. And no sudden movements. She’ll appear very soon, I know she will.”

You frowned, glancing through the dark window, confronted by the hazy grass of the garden, and then your own musty reflection as your eyes switched focus. You couldn’t see much of Xiaojun in the glass, the shadow engulfing much of his mirrored-self. However, you could see one half of his face, shaded as if through clouds, his crown crudely lit like a halo from the light behind. 

A sigh very nearly left your lips as you stole another glance at his real face, his brow furrowing while his eyes narrowed into the darkness outside, teeth ever-so-slightly teasing his bottom lip as he peacefully waited. It wasn’t fair how ethereal he was sometimes.

Suddenly he perked up, eyes widening, and leaning into you as he carefully pointed with a soap-sud painted finger into the black. “Look! There!”

You leant forward on the edge of the counter, eyes desperately scouring the garden until you spotted what he was waiting for.

A small bundle, tapered with jagged edges upon its top, snuffling through the shadowy green.

A tiny hedgehog, on the search for food.

As she came closer, you could just about make out the twitching of a nose, while she made a somewhat beeline for the fence on the left hand side of the garden. There you could see a weathered blue pet-bowl, filled with some food of sorts.

“There she is,” Xiaojun sighed, whispering a laugh sheepishly. “I was beginning to worry there for a bit, I’ll be honest.”

A wide smile rose to your face, overtaken by the purity of an animal that small shuffling through the cold to find food which had been placed in the back garden just for her.

“Did you...?”

“Yeah, the dog food was me,” he replied. “She only comes when it’s quiet here, which isn’t often but it does happen after dinner. As the others get quiet, retreating upstairs or sitting on their phones for a bit. That’s why I offer to do the work here, so I can check up on her.”

You couldn’t glance away from the hedgehog, especially when she finally reached the bowl and began to tuck in. Though it was in the shade and it was very hard to see anything besides the bowl by that point, made to stand out against the night by the brightness of its sides.

“She’ll eat it all no doubt, she didn’t come yesterday. Unless she has somewhere else and is just running rings around me,” he chuckled, picking up the plate. 

“Why didn’t she come yesterday?” you asked, wrenching your eyes away to look at Xiaojun again.

The corners of his eyes rose as he wrinkled his nose briefly. “Yukhei’s euphoria last night?” 

You stood confused for a second, trying to retrace your memory, until you finally struck gold. “Oh yea! We got a message from Jungwoo! I think it was everyone’s euphoria to be honest,” you sighed, “I’d been worried sick about him. No matter how many times anyone assured me he was ok, I knew I wouldn’t settle until I heard it from him himself.”

“It’s alright, I understand that. And I’m pretty sure the others do too.” As your eyes fell, remembering the anxiety you had about his condition, Xiaojun’s finally settled back on you.  “You’re extremely kind Y/N, you almost care too much,” he said, “I know Jungwoo can’t wait to see you again, too.”

You finally met his gaze, letting a small smile rise to your lips as you did so. He was just so beautiful, you couldn’t actually look away even if by some bizarre curse you wanted to.

“Thank you, Junnie.”

“I mean it though, Y/N,” he insisted softly, “I worry sometimes you care too much about others, and though we appreciate it very much, I don’t...” His voice faltered, as if he’d spoken too much. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself in the process, and forget to care for yourself. We all love looking after you, but we also don’t want you to be hurt at all, if we can help it. So if something hurts you, let us know immediately, so we can support you... yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing as you felt your throat clench. Blinking quickly, you looked back into the garden, you spotted the hedgehog making her way back to the hedgerow.

At that moment, a voice rose from the living room. “Y/N! What film do you want to watch?”

Somewhat grateful for the distraction, you felt the urge to cry dissipate as you took another glance at Xiaojun. He hadn’t looked away from you this time, it seemed, but you didn’t focus upon that for your own sanity. “I’d better go,” you said, “thank you for showing me the hedgehog. She’s really cute, I’m glad you feed her.”

“No problem, I’ll let you do it tomorrow, if you have time and would like to?”

“That sounds great!” You sent him a grin, covering any sadness you had felt a few moments before. You lay your hand on his shoulder for a second before you passed, as a small farewell, making our way to the living room to go help Yangyang. 

As you reached the archway, you turned round to ask one more thing. “Oh, Xiaojun?”

“Yes?” He finished washing a plate and placed it on the draining board, peering over his shoulder at you once again. 

“Does she have a name? The hedgehog?”

In the shadows of the kitchen, you thought you saw him falter, in the silence, heard a stutter in his answer. “Actually, no, I didn’t think to do that. Maybe you could come up with one?”

You reasoned with the suggestion before nodding. “I’ll see what I can come up with. See you in a bit!” 

After you left the room, however, he let out a sigh of relief. He was glad you’d fallen for that excuse, especially since it was far from the truth. The first thing he did, once he realised the hedgehog was a regular, was give her name. And since she was adorable, with her little nose and love for food, he decided to name her after the first adorable thing he thought of.

He hadn’t foreseen the issue that would occur if he showed her to the person of which he’d secretly named the hedgehog after. 

.

.

As you spun round the door-frame, hands clapped against your cheeks, desperately willing them to cool down and lose their pinkish hue, Hendery spun round the corner and collided into you.

His sudden appearance made you jump, causing you to haphazardly step backwards and very nearly trip over a blanket draped half on the sofa and half on the floor.

Luckily Hendery’s reactions were faster than your falling, and with hands clasped at your shoulders he pulled you back into your centre of gravity.  Holding you still there, watching you wobble until coming to rest, he exhaled in relief. 

His face had been a picture, lips pursed into an ‘o’ of moderate horror as he’d almost knocked you to the ground, and then spread into a wide smile as he giggled sheepishly. His eyes were clear as glass, dark and glinting and rueful.

“Sorry Y/N!” he said, mischief lacing his words.

You scoffed, shaken and avoiding his clear stare. “Yeah, you will be!”

He laughed at your response, taking to your side. “We need to choose a film, what one do you want to watch?”

“I don’t...” you shrugged, “really know.” You were glad that you didn’t need to look at him now that he was at your side. You could feel his stare on you however, and it made you want to shiver.

He nodded, interlinking his arm with yours. “Shall we go have a look, my lady?”

Before you could let any words slip through your lips in bemused amusement, he pulled himself closer to you and then led you through to the corridor with the shelves stacked with movies.

Yangyang was already there, squinting up at the top row as you reached the rack, fingers running across each box like a small child reading their first book.

Hendery extended his free arm towards the shelving, bowing his head, “Your moving pictures, my lady.”

You snorted, taking in the sight of amass of films. They’d been ordered alphabetically by title, and you remember the day starkly that you’d sat down with Yukhei to organise them. 

He wouldn’t have been your first choice to help order things, since his attention span normally lasted around that of a cocker spaniel with a new toy, but he’d been the only one in the house at the time, and he was the only one tall enough to reach the very top shelf regardless (you still didn’t understand why that top shelf had been installed and even being used, because if Yukhei wasn’t around—which did occur often due to his new schedules—then it was a real safety hazard to get a film down from there, seeing that no one else in the group managed to grow anywhere near 6″). 

On this occasion though, he’d been uncharacteristically focused, listening to your instructions, and only making jokes about how short everyone else was a couple of times!  He’d been a very big help, and it also proved useful in the sense that you weren’t the only one with a better idea of where all the movies were. Even if they were organised well, the two of you could still find them faster than the others usually could, simply due to the fact you could remember where you’d placed them on the shelves in the first place. 

Kun had been extremely happy with the end result too, and Ten still didn’t believe you’d managed to get Yukhei to sit down and do it with you.

You did admonish the system you’d used now though. Perhaps taking the extra time to organise them into genres would have been better. After all, you rarely knew a specific movie you wanted to watch.

Scouring over the titles, you eventually straightened to join Yangyang in peering up at the very top row—the row of box-sets.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked Yangyang quizzically. 

“Did we watch the final part of The Lord of the Rings?” he answered.

You and Hendery both nodded. 

“Oh, well there goes that suggestion then,” he shifted down from tiptoe and came to lean against the table beside the shelving, sending you a sweet smile. “Y/N, what type of movie would you like?”

Eased, you smiled at him, glancing down at the films at the lower rungs. “I’m not sure, really. Nothing too heavy, and nothing that will make me cry.”

He hummed. “So, a comedy then?”

Hendery’s eyes went wide, a look of genuine fear playing on his features. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Our senses of humour in this house, when it comes to films can...” he paused, silk voice tentative, “...vary, a lot.”

You nodded in agreement. “Remember what happened over that Robin Hood film?” You shook your head very firmly. “Bad times, my dudes.” 

Yangyang cocked is head to one side in thought, frowning at seemingly nothing. “Fair enough...” Suddenly, h perked up, showing a grin you knew well. “I’ve had an idea. What if we watch a really bad movie, one that’s so bad, it’s actually kind of good?”

You clicked your fingers, before shooting him finger-guns, “Now that is a good idea!”

The three of you turned towards the mountain of films. Hendery lent upon your shoulder, and once again you were convinced he wasn’t perhaps focused on the films.

“Ok... bad... films...” Yangyang murmured, pulling out a blue box to read its description on the back. 

Meanwhile, you glanced over at Hendery, who was a lot closer than you had previously thought.  You sent him a smile, pressing him back with a single finger before enquiring, “Do you have any ideas, Hendery?”

He smushed his lips together, as he usually did when he was thinking, something of which that always made your heart simper, and let his eyes wonder away from you and up to the penultimate top shelf. 

“’Azure Shadow’?” he said, reaching up and grabbing the box. “I heard it was pretty bad—hey The CP Times gave it 4 stars!”

“My god,” you snickered, leaning over so your head almost brushed his, and peered at the back of the box, “what were they on?”

“No idea but maybe it’s not bad enough,” Yangyang remarked, earning a nod from the two of you, and leading Hendery to put it back on the shelf.

“What about ‘The Man of Blade’,” Yangyang measured, scoffing as he retrieved it, “this one doesn’t even show its ratings, it must be awful!”

You skipped over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning your head against it to see the description. 

“’A man makes a wish to a genie’,” you began, the corners of your mouth twitching already as you attempted to keep your tone serious, “‘to become the most powerful man to ever live so he could face God in a one-to-one’—”

“I’m sorry what?” Hendery merely laughed.

You tried to hold it together. “—a-and restore not only his pride but his... his...”

“Oh no, what?” 

Laughter bubbled in your throat as you forced the final sentence from your lips. “His valiant steed’s honour—yo, what the actual—?!”

Yangyang cackled as he began hastily opening the box. “It’s decided! We’re watching ‘The Man of Blade’! And we can all suffer together!”

Hendery wiped his eyes to free them from tears of laughter. “I’m sorry, but why on earth is that even here?! Who bought it?”

“It must be a present?” you insisted. “Surely! No one in this house would buy this in their right mind—”

“I bought it.”

Three heads simultaneously turned in the direction of the living room. There, standing in the archway, was Sicheng.

There was a moment of silence as you all stared at him, mouths agape and words faltering, until you exclaimed, “Chengie, no!”

“Look,” he projected, before the other two could add to the confusion, “it was supposed to be dumb gift for Ten, something that I could hide his actual present behind, and so I decided to hide it plain sight until his birthday.”

“Ohhh.”

“But, does that mean we can’t use it then?” Hendery questioned. 

“Oh, yeah, damn,” Yangyang said, closing the box, “it’s ok Sicheng, we’ll put it back.”

“Actually,” you began, eyes flickering from each man, and finally resting on the box, “Ten isn’t here, so as long as no one tells…”

“We can still watch it!” Hendery finished, clapping his hands and motioning for the box. “Let’s start it up, I want to see the menu page!”

As the two fought over who got to put the disc in the player, you turned your attention to Sicheng.

His eyes, dark caramel and hidden from the light, were down-turned and avoiding your gaze. They seemed to graze across your cheeks instead, flickering up to your own only occasionally. You offered him a smile, small and soft, and then walked over to him. “Hey, thanks for the film! It sounds perfect for tonight.”

“It’s no problem, I’m curious to watch it too,” he grinned back, before easing you out of the way of the two bundles of energy that bounded through into the living room, “I really hope it’s as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh it’s got to be!” you cried, feeling warmth settle back into your system, slowly, but surely, as you laughed. “Come on, Chengie, help me get some snacks?”

“Of course.” He stepped backwards, letting you past to lead the way. 

Back in the kitchen, you began to scavenge for all the food you could find, layering Sicheng’s arms with bags upon bags of snacks. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the number you’d piled, however, until you swung all the cupboards closed and aimed to place a final packet on top, only to find that you’d formed a tiny mountain, and Sicheng’s face was practically completely hidden.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Chengie, I didn’t notice how much…”

“It’s alright,” he answered brightly, peeking carefully round the precarious pile, “I got it!”

He stepped forward careful to request the final snack be crowned upon the summit above his eyeline, and with caution, you obliged, balancing it on top as best you could.

“Alright! Now all we have to do is get you into the living room without dropping them—are you sure you don’t want me to take half? It’s not hard at all for me to do so…!”

He turned so he could see you. “It’s ok, you’re already doing too much by organising this. I can carry a pile of snacks don’t worry! Just, warn me if I get too close to a chair.”

You nodded, peering over his shoulder to see his way. “I can do that. You ready?”

He hummed in affirmation, and the two of you began your slow, careful trundle into the living room.

.

.

.

With snacks arranged on the coffee table, you slumped on the sofa, taking care to mind your feet as you went—you didn’t want to knock all your hard work on the carpet, as then you would have to vacuum it all up and unless you had someone to make the pain more bearable, it wasn’t fun in the slightest. 

You watched as Hendery emerged victorious and scampered over to the TV, fiddling with the dvd player. Yangyang, pouting from the sidelines, perked up once he realised that he now had a crucial advantage. 

He bounded over to you, barely choosing a side and instead practically flung himself onto the sofa too. He threw his arms open to encase you as he went, and once his back hit the cushions, he pulled you into him. 

You shrieked in surprise and glee, shuffling yourself round so you could rest your head more comfortably on his chest. 

“There,” he murmured proudly, “comfy?”

“Very.” Your voice was muffled against his hoodie. 

Hendery glanced back over his shoulder at the sight, and hurried himself. Sicheng meanwhile took a seat where he had been previously, spinning the chair around so he would be able to see the screen.

“Hey,” you called softly to him, causing him to swivel a bit further round to see you, “you sure you don’t want to come sit over here? It’s comfier than that desk chair.”

“But it is a spinny ch—” You hushed Yangyang before he could finish. 

Sicheng smiled, the dim in his eyes growing as he shook his head. “No, it’s ok, I’m good here.”

“You sure?”

Your response was a nod, and the very gradual spin as he pushed himself back to face the TV subtly.

You tried not to take it personally, but you couldn’t hide the falter in your smile.

Yangyang couldn’t quite see it at his angle, but Hendery did, pouting at you as he came over.

“Y/N?”

“I’m ok, don’t worry!” you declared. “Just tired, is all.”  Your response had been too fast, and you knew both Yangyang and Hendery had noticed—Hendery had quickly settled down beside you, inclining into your sloped body as he held your hand tightly, whilst Yangyang had shifted his weight to bring you just a little bit closer.

You did wonder if it was slightly out of something else, but you didn’t have long to consider that thought, with the film menu loading up and sending you all into a bout of horrified laughter.

“What even is that?!” Yangyang yelled above you.

“That is an actual, colourised depiction of hell,” you countered, lips twisted in terror as you sat up instinctively. It was as if the atrocity had immediately set off fight-or-flight responses of every single person in the room. 

Hendery snapped his head over to you. “In the shape of a horse?!” 

“It’s never going to leave my head,” Sicheng murmured. “There it is. Emblazoned into the insides of my skull. Set me free from this torment—”

“What’s going on?” Xiaojun had come through from the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel and striding through into the living room as if he’d been summoned. 

“That!” Everyone simultaneously pointed at the TV, the single shot menu screen of an abominable CGI horse crowding the entire screen.

“What’s wr—mother of sweet jesus—” 

“I know right!” Yangyang exclaimed. “It’s horrifying, I hate it!”

“It’s actually cursed,” Xiaojun stated, unable to draw his eyes away from the savagery of art he’d been presented with. “Obscene!”

Winwin’s voice was still low, but you could just about hear it over the whoops and cries of the others; “My sleep paralysis demon.”

“Is this what we’re watching?” Xiaojun asked, deep eyes wide and begging for the answer to be any cognate of ‘no’.

“Yep.” You grinned.

“This crime to humanity?”

“One hundred percent.”

Xiaojun stared at the screen, eyes alight with the tacky flames of the anathema displayed before him. Eventually he snapped out of his cursed gaze and headed back into the kitchen. “Dear lord—don’t start without me!”

Eventually, as the laughter died down, you settled back into Yangyang’s embrace, ushering Hendery to come closer too so you could have him near too. He looked over to you, feeling the tug on his hand, and with only a momentary pause to check if you were sure, he flopped down onto your stomach, exhaling happily with an arm stretched.

“You feel happier now, right Y/N?” Yangyang suddenly asked, voice low, and just below a whisper.

You were surprised, but nodded. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better than I did before. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” He cleared his throat, shifting his balance to support the extra wait Hendery brought to the table. “You’re certain we don’t need to enact special measures?”

You frowned, tilting your head up to come to look at his jaw, as he quickly looked back up to somewhere else in the room that seemingly wasn’t the TV for very rational reasons. You bemusedly asked about his supposed ‘special measures’, but won little response. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, before he glanced down at you, eyes flickering across each paradigm of your face with his lips pressed plush as he thought.  He parted them eventually, ebbing with air and possible words, until you felt the rise of his chest as he inhaled and readied himself to speak.

Only then did Xiaojun enter the room and take the final spot at the end of the sofa, patting Hendery’s legs to get them to move. 

“Ok, I’m back, we can start now!” he announced.

The ball of conversation was knocked from its ledge and rolled in a different direction to that you’d hoped. 

“Who has the remotes?” Hendery piped up, feet replaced, but this time on top of Xiaojun’s legs. The elder of the two picked them off by flicking his soles. 

“I do,” Sicheng replied, already frowning at the buttons. “Can someone get the lights?”

“Sure.” Yangyang stretched up behind him, hand awkwardly sliding up the wall as he sought for the switch. Eventually his fingers struck gold, and the room snapped dark.

And then the menu finally disappeared as the horror of a film began. 

.

.

The movie was utter trash.  But it lived up to expectations and it was absolutely hilarious. You’d spent the first hour shrieking with laughter, and then proceeded to tear each scene and every piece of dialogue apart as a five-piece. The entire film was cursed.

Hendery was slapping criticism on the plot left, right and centre to the pooint it made you wonder why he was here at all and not a movie critic. Meanwhile, Xiaojun just snorted at everything he said. The two had come to an unspoken truce, after squabbling over where Hendery could put his feet. They were now situated on Xiaojun’s thighs, and swinging every now and again. 

You felt your heart burn at how adorable it was, though also suffered the pain of the jerks that Hendery made everyday he had the sole of his feet poked or tickled, which Xiaojun seemed to enjoy doing too much.

You stroked Hendery’s hair gently, lightly pressing his fringe out of his eyes where his head rested on your stomach, whilst you peered around to Sicheng to check if he was alright, having not heard a peep from him in half an hour or so.

What you found was that he seemed to be too engrossed in the movie. A grin was plastered on his face as the lights of the terrible CGI glowed in his irises and made him look like an evil mastermind in a fantasy movie of the same calibre. You hushed a chuckle behind your hand, as you leant back to turn your attention to Yangyang. 

He’d been the forerunner of the jokes, cackling at every small thing and turning it into pure comedy gold for the rest of the people in the room, which you were very grateful for. The movie would have been brain-drivel without him.

He’d re-positioned himself slightly so you were higher up on his body, head much closer to be of an equal height to his. This way you could press your temple against his cheek, if you wanted.  However, it was him that had his head nuzzled against you, his cheek resting in your hair. 

He eventually quietened down as he grew more drowsy, instead taking in the scent of your hair, which only lulled him into more peace.  With you in his arms he felt complete, in a way. As if he had a duty of sorts and when you were there he was completing it. But he wasn’t sure what this meant to him, and he didn’t want to think about it too much. A part of him deep down knew that it would cause some pain, somewhere along the line. And so he didn’t spare the thoughts a chance. 

However, he couldn’t still the beating of his heart whenever you moved against him, whenever you looked to him and smiled.

As the credits rolled, there were several sighs of relief, but otherwise it was complete utter silence as the room tried to comprehend what you’d just witnessed.

You glanced over at everyone to see if they were just as confused as you were. Seeing you were in firm company in your bemusement, you announced, “The Oscars are clearly rigged for this not to win.”

Yangyang snorted. “Of course!”

“Best film ever! Y/N couldn’t make a better one even if she tried.”

Xiaojun flicked Hendery’s toe for that one.

“Oh of course, honey.” You leant over slightly, arms gently squeezing the boy in your lap, giving him a squeeze. “And you couldn’t make a worse one.”

Hendery seemed to take it as more of a compliment as he grinned, nose scrunching as he headbutted you softly. You tickled his sides briefly, seeking joy in the squeal that it earnt you, and let Xiaojun take the fall as he got kicked in the arm. You sent him an apologetic pout, not that you deep down meant it wholeheartedly. 

“Ow!”

“Karma for all the headbutts I got in the stomach!” you asserted and Xiaojun shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s fair—” 

It was Sicheng that interrupted. “Oh.” His voice was disappointed, and where his melancholy suddenly procured from confused you. He’d been so sunny during the movie. 

You looked over to him. “Chengie?”

“The time,” he said, holding up his phone.

It was nearly midnight. 

“How long was the movie?” Yangyang exclaimed.

Sicheng answered, “Longer than you’d expect.”

“Well over two hours?” Xiaojun suggested. “But that time included the credits.”

“Haven’t you guys got to be up like, stupid-early tomorrow?” you asked, voice timid, fearing the ‘yes’ that you knew would follow.

A hiss of irritation ricocheted across the room. 

Xiaojun confirmed it for you. “Yeah, we do.”

“I don’t want to go...” Yangyang whined.

“I’m sorry but you gotta,” you encouraged sadly, “you need sleep.”

“And so do you,” Hendery added, kicking his legs off the sofa and stretching as he stood. 

It was your day off tomorrow, though you couldn’t deny you were pretty tired. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, come on, otherwise Kun will be mad at us,” Xiaojun chuckled, “not sending you to bed at a responsible time, you know.”

You snickered, slowly shifting yourself out of Yangyang’s arms.  His hands seemed resistant to the idea, catching on your shirt as you moved away.

Eventually though, he was freed from his constraints and ordered by you to head to his room. “Come on, Yangyang. You gotta go.”

He pouted at you, before reluctantly nodding his head. “Yeah, ok, I’m going.”

Hendery and Xiaojun followed, bidding you goodnight as they passed. You remained in the living room a bit after they went, opting to stretch out on the sofa instead of getting up.

“You need to head up too.” Sicheng’s voice was light and airy, like the shadows had engulfed it. You barely heard him. 

“I know,” you assured just as quietly, “I’m just... taking my time.”

You could just about trace the lines of his smile in the dim light after he turned the TV off. His presence was faint, but what you could feel was warm and gentle.

He whispered something that this time you didn’t catch.

“Sicheng?”

“Don’t worry.” He sighed, getting to his feet. You heard the crinkling of wrappers and the clatter of bowls as he began to tidy up. 

“Here, I’ll help,” you began.

But as you sat up, you felt an hand press firmly against your shoulder. “There’s no need, it’s ok.”

You frowned into the dark. He wasn’t looking at you, which was why his voice sounded distant. You could make out his silhouette, broad and proportioned as if he was drawn. He was like an artists unknown creation, stood in the background of their studio, overlooked by many but appreciated much more than any by the few that knew him.

You worked up the courage to enquire about the occurrences earlier. “Why wouldn’t you come over and sit with us? Like, during the movie or before.” Feeling intrusive, you hurriedly added: “I mean, I don’t mind of course, just... you know?”

That caused him to look at you, but he remained silent for the longest time.  You were about to change the subject when he finally replied. 

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” he cleared his throat, scooping up an unopened snack bag under an arm, “besides, you were already quite busy with the others, so... I didn’t want to overwhelm you with anything more.”

Your features softened at his words, a pang in your heart. “I appreciate that, Chengie. But please remember that you won’t overwhelm me or get in my way. I like hanging out with you just as much as the others.”

You could make out the smile on his face, small and sweet, before he ushered himself away towards the kitchen. “You need to head to bed, Y/N, you need some sleep.”

He was right, but you were convinced you weren’t going to leave until you got one thing.

You headed to the entrance into the kitchen and waited for Sicheng to come back. Upon his return, he almost bumped into you, but caught himself just in time. Your eyes met in the darkness, lit by the streetlamp from outside the window far behind you. His glimmered with the golden haze, as he wordlessly questioned why you were there.

“I know, I’m heading up I promise,” you answered for him. “But... can I have a hug first? Please?”

Lips pressed into a small ‘o’, he looked shocked by your request, before melting into another soft smile. “Of course.”

His hands brushed along the curves of your shoulders, as if to appear to find their way, and eventually travel down to wrap around you. The position wasn’t exactly the most conventional, as you found your arms bunched at his chest, but you made the most of it regardless. 

He held you delicately, but firmly against him. It was reassuring, despite the lack of time you spent there pressed into his warmth, as you felt your breath slow, and your eyes close.

You didn’t want to let go, but Sicheng was more sensible than you, and drew himself away gradually.

“Come on,” he murmured, placing a thumb against your temple and massaging the skin there lightly in encouragement. 

His palm barely touched your jaw, the contact was so brief it felt like the breath of a ghost, but it sent your heart-rate into a rapid drumbeat. You imagined he could hear it, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he merely continued, upping the tempo of his caress, and sending your thoughts into a spiral of sorts. You couldn’t work out what they were saying, but it was giddy to say the least. Eventually though, conscious reconnected to subconscious and allowed you to function again. You nodded, reluctantly leaving his touch that sparked your heart rate to spike, and began the long journey to your room, leaving Sicheng to finish up downstairs alone.

Something ebbed in your heart about it, but you didn’t know what it was, nor how to express it.

Eventually reaching your room, you left the door ajar as you clambered into bed, feeling a strange loss of peace.

.

.

You decided to watch Youtube for a while to calm yourself down a bit after... whatever had happened with Sicheng, and consequently ended up staying up long enough for the others to return.

That’s when it hit you, the reason why you’d been unable to settle. Or at least one of them.

Kun had promised to return quickly, but he had been gone all night. You wanted to ask about it, but it was late, and you were comfortable in your bed.  Luckily, after a few minutes, once Ten and Yukhei had retired to their rooms, your prayers were answered as Kun knocked on your door, face peaking through the gap.

You stared up at him, eyes big and expectant with your lips pursed. He had explaining to do after all. 

And he was aware of this fact, as the guilt was written over his face.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he began, “can I come in?”

You pretended to think about it for a few moments, even though you both knew the answer. He waited though, and it was only when you gave him a ‘yes’ did he come inside.

He sidled over to your bed, eyes sweeping the shapes formed by your bed covers, to eventually perch on the side without accidentally sitting on your feet beneath the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I promised I would come back but the other two swore it wouldn’t be long, and it would be more rational to stay,” he explained, “but then it took longer than they thought, but I couldn’t risk coming home only to then head out again and... I don’t know why I listened to Yukhei about it to be honest, it’s not an overly rational thing to do.”

“Did Ten tell you to stay?”

He nodded.

“Well, I’ll let you off then,” you let the scowl fall from your face and giggled instead, “we know how persuasive he can be.”

Kun paused, eyes flitting to yours. “So you’re not mad?”

You scoffed. “Kun, I wasn’t even that mad to begin with, I promise! I can’t be mad at you for long anyhow. You’re just too—”

You’d let your mouth talk without your brain, and it suddenly occurred to you what you were saying. As your voice faltered, you weren’t sure what was supposed to follow.  Kind? Sweet? Cute? Handsome? 

Kun was waiting for you to finish, and unfortunately, you panicked a bit.

“Kun.”

He frowned bemusedly. “I’m too ‘Kun’?”

You nodded awkwardly, while you interrogated your own intelligence in your head. “...To be mad at for long, yes.” 

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, I mean, I prefer that to you being mad at me.” He exhaled, clearly relieved. “Did you enjoy the film?”

“Oh it was awful!” you exclaimed. As you saw his eyes widen again, you laughed. “We enjoyed it so much.”

He was clearly very confused, and his lips wavered as he didn’t know how to respond. 

You took some delight in his confusion, you couldn’t deny. “Well,” you propositioned coyly, “you’d understand if you’d been there.”

“I’m sorry!” he reiterated, eyes wide and searching yours.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now,” you laughed, though felt a little bit guilty and sighed, sending him a small sweet smile. Although it occurred to you that he still owed you. “But… there would be something that would make it all up to me—”

To your surprise, Kun interrupted you, already one step ahead, “I know. Here.” He shuffled along the bed so he was much closer to your body, arms held out for you.

You didn’t hesitate, much to his gratitude, and levered yourself up and straight into his embrace. His hands held your back firmly, gently pulling you even closer as he nestled his nose into your neck, mimicking your own positioning. Tender and tranquil, Kun seeped solace. While his fingers drew art upon your back, his head tipped into yours, his voice a deep murmur, “I’ve been waiting hours to do this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, you couldn’t even help it, though you shook it off. You’d been all over the place that day, emotionally, so of course you were going to be reacting all fuzzily over kindness. Well, that’s what you told yourself.  Besides, he was just stating facts.

“Me too,” you finally answered, barely able to work up the effort to speak anymore. The tiredness swept over you suddenly, but you didn’t fight it. Your body was crying for sleep, and your mind had finally agreed that it was time to give into that small, tired voice.

You pulled yourself away gradually, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as you peered up at him. He held you at arms length, studying your face as you did his.  You’d never noticed how rouge his lips were naturally tinted, how they curved into a smile as they opened to speak. Or how soft his cheeks were, as a long, slender dimple appeared as he did.

“You really need to sleep,” he said, “your eyes are constantly closing.”

You acknowledged his remarks with a lethargic nod, before shifting your weight once again to allow yourself to lie down under your covers.

Kun stood to allow you more space, letting you curl up to conserve warmth.

“You got everything you need?” Voice as light as silk, he leant over to catch your eyes behind the bundled blanket. 

“Yeah.”

He nodded, straightening up and heading for the lamp on your bedside table. As his fingers flipped the switch, his brain stuttered. He’d wanted to do something for a very long time, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. You’d already been desperate for a hug from him and him specifically. But it was if something was stopping him. 

The lights went out, and he felt his feet moving by themselves towards leaving the room. 

“Goodnight, Kun,” you called after him, watching his retreating silhouette in the light from the landing.

As he reached the door he held it open, head peering into the darkness to catch a final glimpse of your face in the dim light for the day. You already had your eyes closed, hair around you like a halo, temple exposed and waiting. You looked so adorable wrapped up and surrounded in warmth.

“Goodnight, love.”

And with that he left the room, leaving the door ajar, rubbing his own lips to make up for the contact he missed as his cowardice took over once again. 

There would be another time. He prayed that there would be, and that it was him alone who got the opportunity.

But he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

~~~

AN: longest thing ive written and published wtf. It’s also unedited as of yet and with a piece this big it’s bound to have mistakes so I am very sorry for them and will get round to editing eventually i still need to update my masterlist oop

Also, all film names were randomly generated on a title generator. If they are actually the names of films then they weren’t intended to be.

Masterlist