#but rather bickering masked by politeness

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[multifandumbmeg]

Anthony Lockwood is an emotional chameleon. He changes how he interacts with people to be what they want and need.

Think about how he acts with George. They bicker, they insult each other, they're not touchy-feely, but they get each other. They care about each other. Lockwood treats him like this because that's what George likes: blunt, to the point, back-and-forth banter and sarcasm. He doesn't treat George's neurodivergence or eccentricities as a fault like others, he casually accepts or even lauds them. He's the hands-off but there when you need him friend George needed.

Think about how he treats Lucy. She doesn't realize this is why, which is the cause of much of her internal fury, but he tries to be what she seems to want. Lockwood gives Lucy a huge amount of freedom, doesn't push her to open up, celebrates and accepts her gifts at face value (especially in the books) but in the show when she makes clear what she doesn't want, he apologizes and changes course. He becomes comfortable with her quickly and doesn't treat her differently because she's a girl- he knows she can handle herself and she's just another member of the household, no judgement for being messy or lazy or looking wrecked like the rest of them. He knows that she is closed off and resentful when people pity her or acknowledge her pain, so he shows his affection in subtler ways, like making her toast and tea. Giving her precious things that are part of his past as a show of trust and attempt at vulnerability. Frequently praising her, but only when she truly deserves it, because she wouldn't accept it otherwise. Constantly showing her how much her life is worth to him, no matter how much it drives her crazy. His relationship with Lucy changes as his romantic feelings for her grow, and it gets harder for him to mask how he actually feels and wants to act.

Now here's the controversial one: Lockwood does not show Holly favoritism, nor is a malicious, manipulative monster pitting two women against each other. Every single thing about how Lockwood treats Holly differently can be attributed to him knowing her past and trying to be what she needs. He is helping her. Lucy's internal monologue of intense jealousy is a matter of insecurity. She sees Lockwood's gentleness with Holly as him seeing her as a "real girl" and Lucy herself as "just one of the guys" - read, not a romantic prospect. But Lockwood makes it clear who he favors soon enough: when Lucy decides to leave, he offers to fire Holly immediately because he knows of their feud. It is Lucy he can't live without. Lockwood is, in a word, polite to Holly. He is kind and friendly towards her because her previous boss abused her, and she is traumatized in a fundamentally different way than Lucy. Whereas Lucy hardened but sees the agent life as all she can do, all she is worth, Holly is paralyzingly traumatized by agent work. Which is exactly why he takes her out on cases slowly, watches out for her, and does everything he can to rebuild her confidence. He gets onto to Lucy rather than Holly because 1) Lucy became hostile immediately and fully started their conflict, 2) as mentioned before, Holly is traumatized by an abusive, toxic prior work environment. He's trying to make her feel safe here, and 3) He's completely unaware of how Lucy sees this behavior as a personal slight because he fully respects Lucy as an equal, which he thinks is a compliment.

Also, I think George sees Lockwood's ever-changing personality as completely par for the course. As a fellow neurodivergent, he thinks this parade of masks is how everyone interacts, Lockwood's just good at it.

In conclusion, Lockwood is simply a kind kid with pretty damn high emotional intelligence, which is frankly remarkable considering how alone he's been. Anthony Lockwood tries to be whatever anyone else needs, because there was no one to be it for him.

[explicit-tae]

Moral Dilemma

Your morality is tested at a monthly family dinner that gets interrupted by two masked men. @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111 @chimmy-licious

Word Count:7.317

Warning: yandere themes, dark themes, smut, coercion/dubcon/ violence, blood, multiple character deaths, stalking, slight gunplay, oral (f receiving), spitting, dirty talking, fingering, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, creampie,

Halloween Masterlist

The drive to your parents home was a long one - about an hour from your apartment in the city. It was a drive you dreaded taking. Not because of how far it was, but because you knew who you’d be seeing upon entering. 

Your mother was someone you loved dearly, but was someone you’d rather keep at a distance. She was the type to constantly ask about your love life, wondering when you’d be married and have children. A career didn’t matter to her if there was a man wealthy enough to marry and settle down with. The amount of times she stated that you’re wasting your youth on working in a useless field and should look into marrying could be counted on both hands. 

Your father was the boastful type - he bragged about any and everything he could. His cars, houses, business - it all. You couldn’t fault him, however. He claimed that he had to start from the bottom and work his way up, but even he was someone who looked down upon your choice to work instead of using your privileged last name.

With two parents came four children, you being the second youngest. Your elder brother was the first to follow in your fathers footsteps and take over one business. He was married and had no children yet much to your mothers dismay. 

Your older sister was who you bumped heads with constantly - a carbon copy of the mother you shared. She hadn’t worked ever and had taken your mothers advice and married a close friend of the family - the age difference is a bit alarming, but you didn’t dwell on it often. 

Your younger brother and final child was a breath of fresh air. He had not yet been corrupted by your parents' views thus far and was only a freshman in college. He opted to stay on campus unless he had to come home - like today. Only he and you were the most distant to the rest while remaining close to one another.

Your call pulls into the large estate and you release a deep sigh. You were the last to arrive, familiar cars in your line of vision.  You pull next to your eldest brother's silver ferrari - a gift from your father when he graduated college. You contemplated slamming your door against his to chip the paint, but decided against it. You and your brother had no real issue - but you still held a grudge when he laughed at a joke your sister had said one day, completely embarrassing you in the process. 

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way up the stone stairs. You were greeted with a wide smile of one of many workers that night - the oldest worker your parents hired decades ago.

“Sofia.” you bow to the older woman who does the same. “WIll you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

Sofia shakes her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “I never do. I will be making my leave shortly.”

You giggle. “I could only hope you’d stay.” was your response. 

Every monthly dinner your parents hosted always ended in a mess. Your sister and you bickering with one another, your mother having one too many glasses of wine while your father became enraged in a conversation about politics with your older brother. 

The estate is quiet upon entering. You made sure to come around this time. Dinner would soon be done and all you had to do was have dinner, mingle a bit for your younger brother, and then leave. 

You wished your boyfriend was here with you. It would make things easier for you. You could make an excuse to even leave earlier because he was with you - next time hopefully.

You remove your heels at the door and make your way down the hall to the dining area. Your nostrils are filled with the scent of dinner and your stomach churns. Your father was an amazing cook, much to outsiders' surprise. You recalled many times he would cook and give your mother the credit - she was the type to burn water.

You enter the large dining room. You noticed the table has changed - the dark brown wooden table changed to a glass one, surrounded by off white chairs. It makes the room brighter as the chandelier above it illuminates throughout the room.

“Well, it’s about time.”

Your mood soured at the voice of your sister. 

“How long were you planning on making us wait for you?”

Your eyes glance her way. She wore an annoyed look on her face. Your older brother had been munching on a piece of bread, not sparing you a second glance. 

“You’re the only one waiting for me to eat.” you say, noticing even your younger brother chewing. You took the seat besides him, patting his shoulder as you did so. 

Your sister sucks her teeth, but she doesn’t respond. 

The food is displayed in the center of the table and you waste no time in making your own plate. The last time you ate was this morning with your boyfriend and decided to skip lunch so you had room for dinner. 

Conversation erupts throughout the table, you and your younger brother deciding to speak amongst one another. He spoke about his college classes and the parties he attends - everything you know due to social media. He speaks fondly of a person, making sure not to be too loud for listening ears to hear. He breezes past the word he before flushing and changing the subject - all you could do was smile.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

And of course, that voice speaks once more.

“Where’s your husband?” you retort.

“Not tonight.” your mother says warningly after your older brother snorts. She takes a sip of her wine and you want to repeat her words but bite your tongue.

“I wasn’t the one who said I would be bringing someone.” your sister takes a sip of water and raises her brows. “Now, where’s this boyfriend of yours?”

Her tone doesn’t go unnoticed. She thinks you’re lying about your boyfriend- you’re aware. You don’t feel the need to post him on social media and vice versa - the most you did was introduce him once during a facetime call with your younger brother, but that was all. Your older brother never pried into your life and you didn’t want to hear your mothers constant questions of marriage.

“He has to work.” you shrug.

“Sure.” your sister takes a bite of her steak.

You blink your eyes away to your mother who’s already staring at you. 

“Hopefully we’ll meet him next time.”

You remain silent. You weren’t going to engage in yet another argument with her like she desired. You decided on picking up your fork and sinking your teeth into the steak.

“If he exists.”

You drop your fork harshly. It slams against the glass plate.

“Not again.” your older brother murmurs. 

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” you hiss at her. 

“You supposedly have been dating someone for almost a year.” she shrugs her shoulders. “But we never see him.”

“Why would I bring him here?” you retort. “So you can continue to be a bitch?”

“Oh, I struck a nerve.” she giggles. “I’m not the one lying-”

“Lying?!” you snicker. 

“Y/N has nothing to prove to any of us.” your younger brother defends with a roll of his eyes. “He does exist. I met him.”

“Oh, really?” your sister leans forward interested. “So did the both of you share details on your boyfriends?”

Your hands clench while your younger brother stiffens. 

“That’s enough.” your older brother hisses, raising his hand in front of your sister. “You’re going too far.”

“What does she mean boyfriends?” your mother slurs and now you’re ready to pounce on your sister for her slick mouth. 

“Nothing.” you, your younger and older brother say in unison. “I think we should just eat in silence.” your older brother grumbles. 

“As do I.” your father quips.

“Your daughter,” your sister points to you. “is a liar. And your son,” she points to your younger brother besides you. “is gay.”

Your father stops eating while your older brother sighs.

“You can’t have anyone else be happy, can you?” you stand to your feet with a shake of your head. “What the fuck-”

“Y/N it’s okay.” your younger brother murmurs, but the soft tone indicates that it wasn’t okay in the slightest. Even if there was speculation on his sexuality, your mother was in denial and constantly asked him of girlfriends or flings that he was just end up lying about going on dates with the girls she’d set him up with. Luckily, said girls were kind enough to hold up the lie.

“Yes, Y/N. It’s okay.” your sister shrugs. “You can admit that you don’t have a boyfriend and we can all accept our baby brother for who he is.”

“Are you that miserable with life?” you ask. “Does that husband of yours not please you enough that you want to come here and fuck with everyone else lives? Or is it because he’s going broke?”

The table grows silent at the new revelancing. Your sister reddens with embarrassment, her hand clenching the glass of water in her hand.

“Is that true?” your mother slurs.

“Yes, it is.” you giggle, taking your seat. “Tell us how your dear old husband has filed for bankruptcy.”

Your older brother widens his eyes at you with a head shake. He was the one to tell you after he had heard mumblings from his own group of friends - the both of you laughed at the irony. Your sister had gloated that she married rich while already being rich - and now look where that got her. 

“You sit around and try to make our lives hell because yours is.” you spit at your sister. “You fucked an old man for money just for him to end up broke.” you shake your head with another laugh. “I’m sure father would let you move back in. Just ask.”

Your sister stands, slamming her manicured hands against the table and before she can scream at you, she falls back.

The glass window directly behind you shatters. Particles of glass dance off your skin. The room erupts in screams and cries. Your eyes blink open and widen at the sight before you. 

Your sister is bleeding, clutching her shoulder. Blood pools out from, coating her hands and staining her shirt. 

Your older brother is the first to respond. He grabs a cloth and places it against the wound, a loud cry erupting from her throat. 

“W-What the fuck?” your younger brother is in shock, unable to move from his seat. Your mother is crying and your father is patting his pockets for his phone. “We have to call the police-”

Another shot rings out, this time louder. You grasp your younger brother and fall to the ground, watching in horror as your father falls to his knees. He clenches his stomach, blood oozing out of him, as well. 

Your eyes swell with tears, mind racing with confusion. You’re unsure what to do to help, completely frozen with fear. You hold your brother against you tightly, afraid that he would be the next one shot. 

From beneath the table, your eyes catch dark leather boots. You're paralyzed with fear at the sight of two pairs of feet rushing forward. You hear another shot ring out, your older brother wincing. His body drops to the ground while he begins to bleed. The bleeding wound is on his shoulder similar to your sisters, but the next one is right between his eyes. 

“Please! D-Do you want money?!” your mother cries, her arms wrapping around your deceased brother.

You are the next to scream. The glass table is flipped, shattering against the marble floor. Your brother holds onto you tighter, but only for a second. He’s being ripped away from you and now it’s your turn to plead.

“N-No! Take me! Just leave-”

A black gun is placed against your brother's head. His eyes are closed while soft tears are spilling out of his eyes. You’re afraid to move or speak for his sake.

The masked man is tall. He sports a completely black attire with an all white chilling mask that hides his eyes. 

The masked man’s partner sends a shot to your mother and her crying stops, but you’re unable to look her way. The eyeless holes of the masked man before you paralyze you in fear. 

“P-Please…” you begin to cry. Your father whimpers behind you while your sister is crying behind the masked man. Your older brother and mother are dead and you don’t want your younger brother to follow suit. “W-We have money…just don’t hurt him. W-What is it that you w-want?”

You gasp when the masked man slams the handle of his gun against your brother's head. He falls to the ground limp. “He isn’t dead.” the second masked man says from across the room, voice muffled. “Yet.”

“P-Please don’t kill us.” you begged, bowing lower to show your mercy. Your hands rest above your head and you feel the broken glass of the window pinching your skin. 

You scream once you feel your hair being tugged. The masked man in front of you forces you to your feet. You don’t want to look the man in the face - the white emotionless mask frightened you. You’re unsure who these men are and what they truly wanted with you. You assumed money - your father being well known as wealthy and your family name was just as out there. But did they have to kill you all one by one to get money? You would have given them anything in the home - fine jewelry, expensive art pieces and furniture and more - if they allowed your family to be unharmed. 

You stiffen when you feel the cold gun against your lips. The masked man taps it a few times. Your heart jumps out of your chest when you realize what he’s expecting of you. You open your mouth slowly, shuddering when you feel the gun slide between your lips.

The masked man turns to face your sister who’s watching with wide eyes. Her clothing is stained with her own blood and you’re unsure how long she’d last until she passed out due to her injuries.

The gun slides deeper inside your mouth. Your eyes close, breathing hitching. You’re unsure if he’s doing this to scare you - because it’s obviously working - or a way to defile you even further.

The gun is removed from your mouth. You hear footsteps begin to kick up. Your eyes blink open to find the second masked man grabbing your sister and hoisting her up. “W-What are you doing?!”

Your sister hisses at the harsh treatment as she’s being rushed out of the dining room. You want to follow her - to reach out and help her, but you can’t. The masked man is in front of you, dark eye sockets on you.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name being heard by the masked man causes you to shudder. You’re shocked - goosebumps roaming your body. Did the man behind the mask know you? Your family? You do not recognize the voice even if it is muffled behind the mask nor do you recognize the stature of his body. 

“You know my name.” you murmur. You begin to think that maybe this is someone that was wronged by your family - a long list that would possibly take all night to go over in your mind. “D-Do I know your name?”

The masked man is silent for a moment, so much that you’re unsure if he heard you.

“Do-”

“I heard you.” the masked man interrupts. “No, you do not.”

You hands begin to tremble. That doesn’t tell you who he is, what he wants or any motives. You not knowing who is was didn’t mean that you didn’t know you and your family - or if he was ever wronged by them. 

“I can tell you’re thinking so hard.” you stiffen when he brings up a gloved hand to touch your cheek. “You’re wondering why we’re doing this. Why am I here before you?”

The man is touching you so softly, his gloved thumb rubbing along your cheek. You want to sob at his actions..

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

Your breathing hitchens when his hand slides down to your neck and he takes a single step closer to you. Your mind is screaming at you, alarm bells are ringing. 

“You’re afraid. Understandable.”

The gloved hand drops back to its side and he tilts his head. 

“Who are you?” you whisper. As much as your heart beats for an answer, you’re sure that you’re afraid to find out. What if you saw his face and knew exactly who he was - then what? What would he do to you then upon knowing his face and name? “There must be something you want from me?”

The masked man moves slowly. He removes his gloves and drops them upon the floor effortlessly. He’s young - you can always tell the age of a person by looking at their hands. They appeared soft and young. Fingernails trimmed and cleaned - you snap your eyes away and into the eyeless sockets. 

“I do want something from you.”

“Money?” you ask hopefully, even if in your heart you’re sure that if that's what he wanted, there would be a robbery instead of blatant murder. 

“I have more than enough money. Especially in my profession.” you hear a tint of amusement in his muffled tone. “Down the hall to the right, there’s a bathroom, correct?”

Just who the hell was this man and how long had he been following you - and your family?

“Yes.”

“Lead the way.”

It’s a command. Your eyes lower to your younger brother’s unmoving body, surrounded by broken glass and splattered blood. 

“He'll remain alive.” the masked man says. “You have my word.”

Somehow, his word didn’t mean much - but you decided that if you did as you were told that you, your sister and brother would remain alive. Just as long as you sacrifice yourself.

You sauntered down the quiet hallway to the nearest bathroom - a large room with high ceilings and a whole wall dedicated to a large mirror. You can feel the man close behind you. As you open the door for the both of you, he’s quick to close it behind him. 

“Turn around.”

Another command. You do as you’re told, unsure what the masked man wants from you. Your beating heart has a clue.

As you turn, your eyes meet his - not the socketless ones of the mask. Dark brown eyes laying upon a smooth, young face. You feel hot with embarrassment when your eyes don’t blink - they continue to stare. His hair is dark and shiny, a single strain hanging on his forehead while the rest didn’t appear out of place in the slightest. His lips are pink and full, moisturized just as his skin.

You didn’t know who this man was but the sight of his catches you by surprise.

“My name’s Hoseok.”

Hoseok.

Hoseok.

You didn’t know a Hoseok.

“Hoseok…”

Hoseok is a bit easier to read when his mask is off. His eyes widen only for a slight moment at you repeating his name. 

“Please, Hoseok.” you’re frightened to the core. This man is a killer along with his partner. Your mind can only wonder what in the world he’s doing with your sister. “W-Whatever you want. I can give it. Just please don’t hurt my brother and sister.”

You hear Hoseok sigh. He shakes his head with a low tsk. “You are so naive, Y/N.” he places a hand upon your cheek once more. “So caring. But that’s what I love about you.”

Your eyebrows knit together.

“I’ve known you for over a year now.” Hoseok begins. “I watched as you went to work each day even if you’re worth millions. You lived in a condo in the city - smaller than what you’re accustomed to.”

Hoseok’s thumb outlines your lips. 

“Every now and then you would visit your brother and spend the day with him. You would also hang out with your boyfriend when he wasn’t cheating.”

Your eyes blink a few times at his words. Cheating?

“Of course you didn’t know.” Hoseok hums. “But I do. He’s been cheating on you for months now, baby. Dye red hair with split ends. Name’s-”

“Bella.” you murmur, the short description as all you needed. “His-”

“Best friend.” Hoseok finishes. 

You look away from Hoseok.

You want to feel sad about your boyfriend's cheating, but you are beginning to feel numb. In normal circumstances, you’d possibly cry at how naive you were - clueless. You should have seen this coming long ago by just how close Bella and he were, but you didn’t want to appear insecure bringing it up to him.

But again, you aren’t as sad as you want to be. You had lost three members of your family thus far and your sister was hurt while your brother knocked unconscious. 

“You’re not like them.” Hoseok’s voice drags you back to reality. “You aren’t as horrible as them.”

“They didn’t deserve to die.” you quip. 

“Your father has done some fucked up things in the past. Your brother following in his footsteps.” Hoseok twirls a strand of your hair between both his index and thumb. “Your mother was just a nuisance. I know how much she put you down for not being like her.”

Just how much did Hoseok know about you and your family?

“You and your brother are the only hope left.” Hoseok murmurs. “The only two that aren’t far gone.”

You shake your head slightly. 

“Even your sister is far gone.”

“Please-”

“Ssshh.”

Hoseok’s finger lifts to your lips to hush you. 

“Turn around.”

You feel Hoseok’s hands upon your shoulders as you face the mirror. His eyes watch yours through the reflection.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“So are you.” you murmur, the hot feeling coming back. You’re unsure what Hoseok’s true intentions were, but his admission told you that he knows more than enough. And you had already seen what he is capable of.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” Hoseok says. ���You don’t have to say anything to flatter me.”

“I’m not.” you swallow. You happen to think Hoseok was an attractive person - if you would have met him under other circumstances, you would be swooning. It’s difficult to ignore the elephant in the room even if the man is attractive. 

Hoseok offers a smile. You ponder just how someone who appears so innocent and nice could be a killer - you wonder what he and his partner truly was. Hitmen? Assassins?

Hoseok’s eyes never leave yours, not even as his hands lower to touch along your neck then to your collarbone. 

“How did you…find me?” you’re unsure of the word to use.

“A client.”

You inhale.

“I’m sure you know what I am by now, baby. Hitman?”

You exhale. Your conscience was right. Someone had hired him to do this to your family.

“I was paid to kill your family.”

Hoseok’s words replay in your mind. All you can think about is how he managed to do so - your mother, father and brother were already gone. By Hoseok’s words, your sister will be next. 

“Taehyung and I are not monsters. We killed those we saw fit.” You feel Hoseok’s body press against yours, radiating warmth. “We take on these jobs as hitmen, but we make sure those who are paid to kill are worth killing. Your brother and you…are not.”

You blink. It feels sick to feel satisfied that he had no intentions on harming you and your brother - as the rest of your family lay dead. 

“We take money upfront to do the job. We kill the client if we feel as if the target does not deserve death.”

You swallow when Hoseok’s hands begin to lower. His hands halt upon your chest and right above your heart. He feels it thump.

“Are you scared of me, Y/N?” Hoseok questions. 

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me.” you respond to him. Your head leans back against his chest, eyes never leaving him in the mirror. 

“You have my word. You and your brother are safe.”

You gulp.

Your father was dead, as was your mother and brother. Your sister - if she was still alive - was going to be soon. You had nothing left to lose besides your own life and that of your brother. Hoseok has been following you for a year now and knew everything - there was no escaping him.

Maybe if you gave him what he wanted, you could keep your sister alive. 

“Is she still alive?”

“Your sister? For now, yes.”

You nod your head.

“What do you want from me, Hoseok?” you had a clue. “What happens after all of this?”

You watch his expression change. He hasn’t thought about it that far as of yet, you note. 

“I don’t want you to fear me.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to leave me, either.”

You feel Hoseok press himself even tighter against you. 

He inhaled deeply. There was no escaping Hoseok. 

“I won’t leave you.” you murmur. “There isn’t anywhere for me to go. You’ve had eyes on me for a long time.”

Hoseok again smiles. He places a kiss against the back of your head and inhales the fresh scent of your hair. “I knew keeping you alive was a good choice, baby. You’re smart and kind. You actually care about people.” His words are sinister and they replay in your mind. You ponder when Hoseok actually thought about keeping you alive and what you’ve done that had his decision forming. You feel uneasy thinking about how he has been watching you this entire time and you never felt his presence. There was never a time in the last year that you felt eyes upon you - or if anyone was following you in the slightest.

In the end, there was no escaping Hoseok - so you wouldn’t even try.

“Do you want me, Hoseok?”

Hoseok is a dangerous man - him and his partner. Taehyung was his name; a name you didn’t recognize, either. He was hired to kill your family by an unknown person or organization - he followed you for over a year now and knows your routine. He became infatuated within that time. The reason you were truly unsure of, but you could use this to your advantage. Though you do not truly understand what Hoseok wants in the end of all of this - a romantic relationship or just sexual encounter - you were determined to do it. To stay alive through it all - maybe you could convince him that your sister was even worth saving.

You turn to face Hoseok, placing your hands against his chest. “Do you want me, Hoseok?” you repeat, your voice lowering to a murmur. Your hands rub up his chest to his shoulders. He’s solid, stiff shoulders jolting as if you sent a bolt of electricity through them.

“Y/N…?” Hoseok murmurs, his hand touching yours as it reaches his cheek. “...do you want me to kill your boyfriend?”

You try not to react to his question. Slowly, you shake your head. 

“Do you still love him?”

You don’t want to anger Hoseok. In a way you did love him - you assumed the love was reciprocated. In hindsight, you should have known the love he had for someone he considered a friend would be stronger.

“It would gather suspicion if my brother, sister and I survived this and then he died, don’t you think?” 

Hoseok hums. Your words don’t go unnoticed by him - you were trying to keep your sister alive with everything you had in you to offer.

“I suppose you are.”

It’s insane to think Hoseok is a hitman. You would consider such a beauty of a man to be literally anything else - a model or an actor of sorts. You wondered what his partner looked like and if he was just as beautiful.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Y/N.”

Your hands were becoming sweaty, nervous on where this was going to go with Hoseok. 

“You said you aren’t afraid of me, right?”

You nod your head, but even Hoseok knew this was a lie. You stand before him and it would appear that you were fearless, but your eyes were glossy, having cried all the tears you could. You were shuddering with each breath you took - but you were a determined woman and this is one of the reasons he adored you. You were so selfless in a family full of selfish individuals.

“Okay.” Hoseok grasps the hand from his cheek and presses a firm kiss upon it. “Then there shouldn't be any secrets.”

You’re positive Hoseok can hear your heart quickening.

“I’ve watched you for so long. I’ve been in your home as you slept. While you showered.”

Hoseok’s eyes watch the shock go through your expression, even if you didn’t want to look it. 

“I stayed and viewed the way you’d touch yourself at night. Your moans were so lovely, pure. A raw reaction from someone who thinks they’re alone. But you were almost never alone, Y/N. I always followed you.”

Hoseok’s free hand grabs your waist. He pulls you closer to him and it’s painfully obvious that he’s excited about recanting the times he’s watched you touch yourself.

“But as I watch, Y/N, I think how deep down you knew someone was there. You would always display yourself willingly for me, widen your legs in my direction and put on a show just for me.”

It’s then that you feel Hoseok’s hand glide down and it’s now gripping your ass. 

His words cause you to feel hot - humiliated. The thought of you not being alone while you touched yourself is horrifying enough.

And even more horrifying that his admission causes you to clench your legs.

“I often speculate just how wet you’d be wrapped around my fingers. How you’d taste. Feel.”

Hoseok becomes more touchy, allowing your hand to fall from his cheek so he can bring you even closer to him - how was it possible? You had no idea. 

The room begins to feel ever hotter, Hoseok radiating such warmth. His lips bury between your neck and he leaves open mouth kisses upon it. 

“Would you give me a taste, Y/N?”

You were positive that you’d end up in Hell right alongside Hoseok. Your body shouldn’t be reacting this way to a man that has been hired to kill your family - especially when said man has admitted to stalking you for a good amount of time now. The bodies of your family lay dead and unconscious in the next room - who even knows what Taehyung is doing to your sister now.

“Y-Yes.”

Hoseok chuckles, a dark look in his eyes. He’s quick to push you deeper inside the bathroom and hoist your body so you’re sitting upon the sink. He’s quick to remove your pants, not being gentle in the slightest. 

“Red’s a scandalous color.” Hoseok murmurs, a hand coming out to touch the wet patch right in the center of your panties. “You’re so wet, dripping all over the place. I’m sure I could slide right in now if I wanted to.”

Hoseok slides your panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your clit. You want to cover yourself at how intense his stare was, the hot feeling of embarrassment running rampant through you.

You gasp when Hoseok dives right, his tongue laying flat against your clit. It catches you by surprise even if it shouldn’t have. His tongue flicks your clit hungrily - he’s been waiting for this moment. The countless times he had watched you so closely as you touched yourself, he could only lick his lips and take in the moment. 

Now, Hoseok could revel in the fact that he had you right where he wanted you. 

Hoseok lifts his lips from your lips to spit upon your clit before diving back in. He suckles upon your clit, his hands pushing down onto your thighs.

You bite your lips to dead the moan threatening to release.  Your thighs shake with the forbidden pleasure, your mind going blink. You cannot recall the last time you’ve been eaten out by a man - your (now ex) boyfriend didn’t exactly enjoy doing it.

Hoseok lifts once more, pushing your panties to the side further. His eyes dip up to meet your hooded ones, licking his lips from your sweet taste. 

“How does it feel, Y/N?” Hoseok murmurs his question, hand slapping your clit. You jolt, gasping at the sudden action. “You’re dripping all over the place for me.”

Hoseok slaps your pussy a second time, then a third, then fourth. He doesn’t stop until you’re shuddering beneath him and even wetter than before. It’s sinister to be here beneath him - your sister in the next room bleeding out, brother unconscious and selfish family members deceased. 

“You like what I do to you, don’t you, baby?” Hoseok chuckles, dimples showing and eyes sparkling with lust. He inches his index and middle finger inside of you, thumb pressed against your clit. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?”

Hoseok begins to thrust inside of you. It’s evident now that he was a dominant person - the kind that’s always in charge. He doesn’t give you any mercy, fiercely pumping. 

Hoseok hovers upon you, his eyes bouncing between your dripping pussy to your face. He groans, the idea of ruining you shoots deep within him and down to his core. 

“H-Hoseok, please-”

“Shut up.” Hoseok hisses, voice deepening. He removes his fingers from inside your shortly just to slap your clit once more. You scream out at the loss of pleasure and the sudden sting. Without much warning, he enters his fingers inside of you once more, continuing his hellish pace. “I don’t want to hear you make a sound, Y/N.” Hoseok hisses, leaning down to come face to face with you. “Understood?”

The dominant type was what Hoseok definitely was. At first glance, you would assume he was a nice person. His smile was bright and it reached his eyes, appearing an innocent everyday man. But he was hired to kill your family and now - after doing so - you allowed him between your legs.

You were destined to go to Hell, especially when you nod your head at Hoseok’s command.

You bite your lip and allow whatever moan to subside. Your eyes are fluttering shut, hips jutting. Your head leans back, pussy clenching around Hoseok’s fingers.

“I thought you were going to be a difficult catch.” Hoseok’s breath is hot against your face. “Thought I was going to have to force you to obey me.”

A moan releases from your throat unwillingly and you whimper at the act, knowing that you had gone against Hoseok once more. 

Hoseok hisses, shaking his head. He removes his fingers and a slap rings across the bathroom. You open your eyes to look at him and Hoseok could only chuckle - such eyes filled with lust. You were truly a vixen, the perfect match made for him. 

“Since a whore like you cannot listen.” your eyes watch Hoseok mess with the belt of his pants. You swallow, stomach churning in anticipation. “I’ll have to fuck the submission into you.”

Hoseok’s big, but you don’t have the chance nor time to marvel at the sight of him. He’s already forcing his way inside of you - but you’re so wet that it isn’t an issue entering.

Hoseok’s hands slap against your lips, roughly pushing you back and against the wall. His eyes, dark and filled with lust, bore into your own. He begins to thrust, pace fast and brutal. 

“I though…fuck - that I’d have to force you to obey me.” Hoseok continues his speech. You can hear his clear as day, even with his grunts and the sound of wet skin slapping together.

“But you were a good little whore for me, Y/N. You did obey me.” 

You could only swallow, breathing intensified. 

“Just how,” Hoseok groans deeply, eyes blinking. You were so tight and wet - clenching around him lovingly. “J-Just how I knew you would.”

Hoseok releases his hand from your lips to clench both of your hips roughly. He continues his pace, eyes fixed on your pussy coating his cock. 

You were going to cum, angered that you couldn’t scream out like you desired. Deep down, however disturbing it was, you enjoyed the control and dominance this man had over you. His hand that once fell over your mouth still feels warm, as if it was still there.

“You’re finally mine, Y/N. All mine.” Hoseok growls, thrusts sloppy. His mind flashes with the many ways he could claim you; control you. “Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to control.” Hoseok’s fingernails dig into your skin. “You’d like that, huh?”

Your head is nodding, breathing hitching. Your eyes squeeze close and it’s only when your cheeks feel wet do you realize you’re crying. Now you’re sure you’d be humiliated once the deed was done.

“You’re crying.” Hoseom chuckles. He leans down, tongue licking at your tear stained cheeks. “So pretty when you cry. So…so submissive for me.” Hoseok lips trail from your cheeks to your lips. He presses a firm kiss to your lips, hips slowing their pace, but they’re still deep and rough.

You’re cumming, creaming Hoseok’s cock like the submissive girl you were for him - tightening so much so that he can’t help but do the same. His mind flashes - he can’t wait until he has you in all the ways he wants. Tied up, begging for him. Maybe even he’d allow you to take control some days - he wanted it all.

“What is he doing to her?” your sister asks Taehyung, bullet wound wrapped. She leans against the wall of the kitchen. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, only glancing the girl's way and snickering. The mask lays on the ground and he’s checking his watch upon his wrist.

Taehyung himself was growing impatient, having accompanied Hoseok to this job. It was about three months prior that Hoseok had come to him about the job. He had stated that he followed a girl - you - for nearly a year at that point. He spoke of you fondly, called you pretty and stated that you were different from your sister and the rest of the family. 

“Can you not hear me talking to you?” your sister hisses, clenching her fists. “I’m paying good fucking money-”

“You haven’t paid us fully yet.” Taehyung interrupts, voice deep and laced with annoyances. “Don’t think we haven’t done our own research.”

Your sister gulps.

Every hitmen had their own desired price, Hoseok splitting the large amount with him. Half was due up front and the other would be due after the deed is done - Taehyung knows well enough that your sister was broke. Her husband had gone bankrupt and seemingly all she had left was a wealthy last name with no money to show for it.

However, killing your entire family and you being the sole survivor would garner her a large sum of inheritance and fame. She once bragged that she could even write a book about the situation - being the sole survivor of a hit put out on her family. She even instructed them to make sure she was hurt in the process.

“I just want to make sure everything happens smoothly.” your sister murmurs, eyes glancing away. 

“Putting a hit on your entire family isn’t exactly something that can go smoothly.”

Your sister whips her head around to Taehyung, but her eyes meet yours. You appeared disheveled, hair a mess and eyes puffy. “Y/N-”

“You did this?” you murmured to her, Hoseok behind you. Taehyung, another beautiful man just as Hoseok, but you had no time to dwell, stood against the nearest wall.

“Why isn’t she dead?” your sister avoids your eyes and screams directly to Hoseok. Her voice cracks. “I-I..we had an agreement.”

“I may be a hitman, but I still have morals.” Hoseok responds. “If the people you want dead do not deserve death, then who am I to give it?”

Your sister shakes her head. She inhales deeply. “That’s not what we agreed on.”

You swallow, throat tight. It begins to ache and your vision turns blurry. Your heart aches just as your throat. The hit that was put out against your family was not one from a wronged employee, or someone that you barely knew. It came from inside the home. 

You and your sister had your own differences, but you would have never thought life would become like this.

“I thought you were dying.” you blinked away, voice dangerously low. “I was willing…” you scoff. It didn’t matter what you were willing to do to help your sister because in the end, you were never intended to get this far. If it was any other hitman besides Hoseok, you would have surely been dead. “...I gave myself to the hitman you hired in hopes he’d keep you alive.”

Your sister doesn’t meet your eyes - she refuses to. 

The thought of your younger brother being dead crosses your mind and fist clenches. 

“I want you to have the final decision if she lives or dies.”

Hoseok’s voice booms behind you. For a second, it was as if time stood still. Your eyes bore into your sister, and only now did she meet your eyes. 

“W-What?” your sister's voice drops and she attempts to step closer, but it’s Taehyung that raises his gun does she stop. 

 Your sister catches the way Hoseok’s hands land upon your shoulders, gently rubbing. She shakes her head. 

You don’t speak at first, eyes looking straight at your sister. It was her turn to cry, whimpering softly. This wasn’t part of her plan - she never intended on any survivors but her. You’re unsure how she planned for everything to come together - would she grieve you and your family? If so, would it be a genuine sadness or a fabricated one?

“My brother,” you say, head only turning slightly towards Hoseok. “would not be harmed?”

“You have my word.” Hoseok repeats the same sentence as he did in the bathroom. “You and him would always be safe.”

You inhale.

You never would have thought you’d be in a situation such as this - but how could you forgive her? Can you just let her go and come together a month from now at another family dinner? The thought alone was comical - what would stop her from just trying to kill you herself?

“How would my brother and I not be caught in this mess?”

Your sister clasps her hand over her mouth, holding in a whimper.

“Leave it to me, baby.” Hoseok squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You take your eyes off of your sister and turn fully to Hoseok. He offers you a smile - a kind and genuine one. His eyes were warm and for a moment, you actually felt safe. As insane as it was, you believed his words. 

“Kill her.” you say to him. “I have to go check on my brother.”

You already told yourself you were going to Hell for what you’ve allowed Hoseok to do to you in the bathroom, but you solidified it as you strolled out of the kitchen, ignoring the cries of your sister followed by a loud gunshot.

[dark-and-kawaii]

so my new Tav is called Sakina. 🩷 And of course I had to find a way to make her fit into the Kiwi Lore™ so here we are:

Zevlor and Sakina had a fling decades before the Descent – Zevlor wasn't even a Commander back then. Sakina travelled far and wide and usually offered her martial abilities. She's been called a "stone-cold bitch" more than once lmao. Sakina appears cold, haughty and biting, as witty as she is cutting, but once you know her you realize that underneath that typical drow exterior she's a caring person who yearns for a family in the loose sense of the term.

Sakina finds her way into Thay as she works for a travelling patron. Thanks to his connections she was introduced at court where she ran into Zevlor. They were both surprised to see the other lol but Sakina quickly used this connection to get herself a spot in Lofn's political entourage. Sakina's current ambition is to be Zevlor's right-hand man, though Zevlor is bit wary of her.

Aedric discovered the connexion between them and promptly told Lofn of course lmao. He hates Sakina and sees her as a homewrecker even though she is clearly not interested in Zevlor sexually or romantically. Aedric and Sakina bicker all the time and become each other's nemesis. They are so involved with each other it's starting to get weird. Why does it look like you guys are in a relationship..... Spoiler alert they end up making out lmao and Sakina becomes Aedric's fifth and, everyone hope, last wife.

Aedric’s footsteps echoed softly in the castles grand hall as he approached, his mind preoccupied with the recent discovery that had set his nerves on edge. He had overheard a conversation between Zevlor and Sakina, bits of their shared past drifting to him as he leaned against the wall, listening.

The newfound information had been unexpected, and he of course felt compelled to hastily tell his beloved sister.

It wasn’t hard to find her, she was in her sunlit chamber, staring out her balcony watching as Vyrmoth and Aetherion flew above the city- her hand resting on the swell of her stomach.

She turned to face him, her face softening slightly at his arrival, “Aedric, what a pleasant surprise. Is something wrong? You look troubled...” her face pinched with concern as he neared.

He shook his head and offered a gentle smile, he had not wanted to worry her but he could see it was already too late for that. He sighed and looked to her, “Sister, I-“ he started, but stopped, uncertain of how to begin. He looked to her belly and placed a hand on the small bulge, and he felt a pang of fear. He loved his sister, and he knew how much Zevlor meant to her… And how she looked at Sakina as a friend now, “I need to tell you something about Zevlor and Sakina.”

Lofn listened, her expression a mask of calm, though Aedric could sense the flicker of surprise beneath her composed exterior. She nodded, absorbing the information with a quiet grace that only deepened his respect for her. But he could see it, the way her lip quivered, how her brow furrowed… She was fighting the rage that bubbled beneath the surface. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, she was possessive over Zevlor, and she was not one who shared her things well… Even if it was from the past.

She smiled a bitter smile, and looked back out towards the sky. Her hand rested protectively over her stomach as she spoke, “I thank you, Aedric. I will speak with Zevlor later, for now though I will leave Sakina be. She has not mentioned this to me, and I would rather not force her hand in the matter. As long as she poses no threat to my child, or Zevlor, or even myself… there is no need to cause trouble...”

She paused, her voice a soft murmur, almost as if she were talking more to herself than Aedric, as if she were trying to convince herself, as if she were trying to talk down her inner dragon.

Aedric was Aedric though, and throughout the week, he found himself trying to get the Drow woman to up and leave Thay. Finding himself in a series of heated exchanges with Sakina. Their bickering was relentless, like two angry cats. It had been intentional, it was just his way of trying to protect his family. And Sakina was too prideful and stubborn to back down.

“Why don't you just go back to where you came from? Crawl back into the underground with the rest of your spider kin.” he snapped during one particularly volatile argument.

Sakina's eyes narrowed, a hiss escaping her, she took a step towards him and poked his chest roughly, her words a low snarl, “Why don't you admit you have no real power here, Aedric?” her words cutting deep, “You're not of Lofn's blood… Of the Queens blood…”

As she turned to leave, Aedric's hand shot out, gripping her arm with a force that surprised her. Yanking her back he glared down at her, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as their eyes locked.

Before he could even second guess himself, Aedric leaned in, capturing her lips with his own.

Her eyes widened, a startled gasp slipping past her lips, giving him the opportunity he needed. Forcing his tongue within her mouth, claiming her with his kiss.

She didn’t fight it, didn’t push him off her, instead she allowed Aedric to push her against the nearest wall, her fingers tangling into his long locks- her own tongue fighting against his.

Effortlessly, he bent down slightly and wrapped her legs around his muscular arms, hoisting her up… Pinning her body between him and the wall, his cock pressing firmly against her core through the fabric of their clothes.

His voice was low, his nose pressing against the softness of her neck, “Let me show you, who has no power here, Sakina. You have no power over me. Let me claim you... right now. Right here...” he ground himself against her, causing her breath to catch, her head to tip back, and her lips part, “I can't stand to watch you walk about this castle like you belong, when you don't. I can't stand seeing you around Zevlor and Lofn, acting like a part of this family…”

Her breath was ragged, but her words were defiant, her hips grinding back against him, her lips brushing against his ear, her tone teasing, mocking, almost challenging, her voice a purr, “If I'm not apart of the family, why are you so desperate to fuck me?”

They could act like they were still angry at each other, they could deny it, but their bodies didn't lie… And in truth, Aedric wouldn’t admit it, but he was tired of their endless game of cat and mouse. He wanted to catch her, and he was determined to make her his.

[luckyladylily]

I think a lot of people don't realize that the discussions about voting and such happening right now are not just the normal progressive bickering about voting for imperfect candidates.

There has been, as long as I have been part of the progressive movement in the USA, a sort of divide between people I will call idealists and people I will call cynics within the progressive movement. One of the core beliefs of the idealist is that progressive politics are inherently powerful because the ideals are powerful, capable of galvanizing common people into taking massive direct political action that would shake the foundations of American imperialism. The pure idealist sees any other route of obtaining our goals as pointless at best and compromising at worst, and compromising our ideals is the worst thing we can do because it weakens them, destroying this theoretical galvanizing power.

The pure cynic side is, of course, that politics are a dirty business full of compromise and half wins and if we are to accomplish anything then we need to engage in every facet of politics. Ideals will not carry the day without strong backing from more tangible sources of power.

Now, those are the two extremes, and in reality everyone falls somewhere between the two. Even the most jaded cynic has to be idealistic enough to continue the fight, and the most pie in the sky idealist still cares about practical politics, like the loss or Roe v Wade. It is also worth noting that many, if not most, progressives are not fully aware of this divide.

I would count myself much more aligned with the cynics, but I have decent respect for this idea of galvanizing power. I think there is some truth there, just not as much as we might like, and that it is most useful as a matter of radicalizing moderates. I have no belief that it will result in the large scale revolution that many idealists hope for, at least not without significant help from strong political wins closing the gap between reality and ideal. The jump is simply too wide, and we are simply too weak, for us to make it in one go. We need to close that gap first. Or at least, that is my estimation.

Or rather, I should say, was my estimation. I don't think we can reasonably say it is an estimation anymore. If there was ever anything that was going to galvanize the left into American Imperialism destroying direct action it would have been a mask off genocide happening right in front of us. Like the genocide currently happening in Gaza.

I really had hoped I was wrong, you know? I would have very much liked to be wrong. But in the past four months it didn't happen. We didn't do it, which means we either could not or would not do it. I personally think we could not, that we need more power behind us before we are really capable of the kind of direct action that would shake American Imperialism on this short term of a time frame.

Which brings me back to my original point. The bickering about political action going on right now is not typical because we have effectively proven the weakness of the progressive movement. We couldn't get it done when it mattered. I'm not saying this to blame or guilt or shame, I am saying this as a practical analysis of strategy. Ideals, passion, and our current political strength have failed to get us there. We need to start building political strength in the form of radicalizing moderates and establishing political power. We need smaller, practical wins to close the gap, and we absolutely need to avoid right wing political victories that make the gap wider.

Right now the cynical side of the progressives are desperate to avoid the progressive movement as a whole doubling down on a proven failed strategy. This is why so many of us are already talking about voting strategically. It's the smallest, easiest first step a person can possibly take into pragmatic progressive politics. If we can just start people on the path to pragmatic politics maybe we can actually get something done.

[linaselandbasil]

You Too, Ezarel?

Ezarel/Lance, oral sex, kinda deranged, okay very deranged, hey look nobody's drunk this time!, it's roughly 2000 words, not that long by my standards but I'll make a part 2

Tw: daddy issues, light physical harm (with consent of course)

The fic is below the cut, but here's the link to it on ao3 anyway.

Have fun, everyone!

...

The key turned in the lock.

His back hit the wall, the fright of being shoved so suddenly caused a weird aching feeling in his limbs. He had no reason to be afraid, Lance wouldn't hurt him. Even if the man acted like he didn't care for others, he's still the same as he used to be.

"Take it off." The elf said, referring to the mask. He really doesn't like the dynamic of being seen by him whilst not being able to see him.

"Hmm." He took the mask off and put it on the shelf next to him. "Nice office you have. It's almost as messy as your room." He hovered over the other man, trapping him against the wall.

Ezarel unbuttoned his shirt as he spoke. "As if your job was any more prim." He reached up to hug Lance's neck, which he took as permission- nay, an invitation to touch the elf. He pulled the hem of his shirt out of his pants and reached up his birthmark filled back. "Careful, I have a bugbite." Lance was barely listening, he was busy pulling the fabric off his shoulder with his teeth. Not in a sexy way, more like he was a feral animal pulling on your pantleg.

"I don't need to know about that." He said, hugging Ezarels thin waist and taking his gloves off behind his back. "So, what were do you wanna do tonight?"

"Bend me over my desk... And how about a blowjob?"

"At the same time??"

"No." He was visibly so done with Lance and his bullshit, but the dick is good so he keeps quiet... and if he complains too much Lance might just beat the shit out of him. "What do you want to do?"

"I donno, I'm too mentally unwell to even know what deranged acts would please me." He cupped Ezarels face in his hands and kissed his soft lips. Let me tell you, the guy has his skincare routine on point. Every inch of his body is silky smooth and well moisturized... on the other hand, Lance hasn't bathed in 28 hours and 43 minutes. "One thing is for sure, I want you to remember tonight." He kissed below his ear." Every time you try to sit down." Ezarel gasped, sarcastically of course.

"Oh how scared I am! Have mercy!" He said as the shirt fell off his shoulders. It's cold, his pale hairs stood straight up.

"You say that like it's not true. Your voice is weak, your palms all sweaty. You think I don't notice?" There's vomit on the sweater already, moms spaghetti.

He looked away. "How do you know my palms are sweaty? You can't possibly feel them through the armor!"

"No, but I can see the frikin paw prints you left on my chest! You nasty little bitch, I literally cleaned it yesterday!" He chuckled and slapped the elf on his rather underwhelming stickbug ass.

"Whatever."

"Whatever?" Lance got closer, roughly shoving him into the wall and kissed him. "You're an ass." Ezarel laughed.

"You're calling me an ass? You? After what you've done- what you're doing to your brother, you call me an ass??" Lance looked at him for a few minutes, seething. With each second that passed, Ezarel trembled more and more in anticipation. This happened every time. He can't ignore his hatred towards Lance, even if he adores the man at the same time. They keep bickering, poking at each other like they used to, but with the elephant in the room it always comes to this. "You've got nothing to say, Lance?" The man took a step back from him.

He teared up from the hard slap that landed across his face. The force of it made him fall over, bumping into the shelf. Lance went closer and pulled his hair to make him look up at him before his anger melted away. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry... Can you do it again please?" Ezarel pleaded with polite words. He was breathing fast, he had a big red mark on his left cheek. This happened every time, he played with fire until he got burned. He was on his knees, cowering under the monster he loved to bring out from his dear Lance.

"If you miss your father so much you could just visit him." He yanked him up by his hair and, pulled him close.

"He stopped beating me when I got taller than him." He said, pushing their foreheads together. "That's why I need you." Lance caressed his sore cheek, making him wince. He almost felt guilty that he enjoyed the fear he saw in his emerald eyes. When the elf got a little more comfortable, he shoved him away and slapped him on the other side to match. Ezarel sure loves symmetry. Lance wrapped him in his arms and rocked him back and forth until he once again felt safe. He then pushed him a little further away from the door, towards another blank wall.

Ezarel didn't dare look at him, but if he did, he'd see a satisfied smirk. "On your knees." His legs were already weak, as he lowered himself he nearly collapsed. Lance slowly walked closer. "Look at me." He made sure to step on the bony fingers of the elf. He didn't put his whole weight on it, but the disrespect is still apparent.

"Lance?"

"Hmm?"

"More?" He rolled his eyes.

"What, you think you deserve it? You're having too much fun."

"Don't make me beg." He pulled his hand out from under the shoe and stood up.

"On. Your. Knees." The way Lance was hovering over him was scaring him. In a good way of course, he's been hard since the first slap.

"M-make me." He backed away as he said it, hitting the wall almost immediately. Lance scoffed and grabbed one of his ears to pull him down with. "Nononono wait, please! Ah!"

"Oops, sorry. I made you beg." He smirked when he had the elf back on the ground. "You wanted a blowjob? Go ahead, but keep your hands on the ground." He unbuttoned his pants and whipped it out. Ballsy move, literally.

"Not exactly what I meant..." Eza drew in a deep breath and took the tip in his mouth. Lance pulled him back by his ears, grabbing them at the base. He hissed, but did nothing.

"No, that's rude. Give him a kiss first." Ezarel was sort of pissed for being micro managed like this, but this is exactly what he needed. He wanted a man to replace his father. (Weird, I know. Shut up.) He gave it a kiss right on the tip and opened his mouth to take it back in. He heard the almost inaudible grunt from Lance. It made him feel so accomplished. He went up and down, trying to relax his throat. "Good job." He pulled the elf away. "Undress."

He complied, working his trembling hands as fast as he could. The shirt dropped to the floor without any effort, the pants he had to fiddle with until he managed to unbutton them. He kicked his lab shoes off and he was finally able to rid himself of his pants. The snake yearns for freedom.

"You look like a fork."

"Excuse me?"

"You." He pointed at Ezarel. "Look like a fork."

"I understood what you said!"

"I know, I just wanted you to hear it again."

Ezarel sighed. "Asshole."

"Watch your mouth, chopstick man." Lance grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down, the cold floor doesn't exactly feel great on his bony knees as he sits on them. "Open up."

He obeys, although he'd like another slap. Too bad he can't aggravate the man with his mouth full. His lips touch the *coughs* staff, he relaxes himself as Lance pushes deeper and deeper without mercy. He feels the strong hands caress his head, strangely caring. Chills went down his spine when Lance lightly scratched his scalp. He enjoyed it until he realized that he's being scratched like a dog. "Hmm!"

"Don't like it?" Lance's rough voice had a barely noticeable tremble in it. The elf is happy to know that he's enjoying himself. He tried to free his mouth to answer, but his partner was not having that. He trapped Ezarel between himself and the wall. He can hardly breathe, and Lance knows that for sure. The hand came to rest on top of his head. No more head scratches sadly.

He tried to shake his head to answer. It's pretty hard with his predicament.... Amongst other things that are pretty hard right now. 💀

"No teeth." He pat his blue head a bit harder than necessary. Ezarel groaned and intentionally nipped the skin. Lance was not hesitant to pull him away and slap the shit out of him, the spit that slid down his chin made it sound somewhat different than before. "Behave." Ezarel grinned like the bastard he is. Even with the state that he's in, he still manages to exert just enough control to be an assertive, annoying, way too confident asshole.

His pale face was a little red from slaps and from how intense his previous activities were, his lips had reddened significantly, he has tears In his eyes. He looks beautiful. Lance lovingly tucked his spit soaked hair out of his face and scratches his scalp again. "You don't hit me as hard anymore."

"And you complain about that? Dumbass."

"That first one was good, the rest were weak. Do better." Lance scoffed, grinning down at this idiot.

"You freak. Get back to work." Ezarel looked up at him, seriously contemplating biting him.

"Make me." Lance didn't look at all amused, but believe me he was.

"Bitch." He grabbed the other man's pristine elven likeness and shoved his dick down his throat. Ezarel was used to it but he still choked from the roughness. He held onto Lance's thighs, he needed something to ground himself. "Didn't I tell you? Hands on the floor." When he was done gagging and let go of his thighs, Lance began thrusting into him. He was surprisingly not wrecking the elf. He moaned, which made Ezarel really happy.

He needs male validation, courtesy of his emotionally unavailable father.

"You doing okay?" He stopped for a second, breathing heavy.

"M-hum!" Ezarel answered, looking up at him through tear soaked lashes.

"Good, I'm impressed, you learned this so quickly." Oh boy, Lance KNOWS exactly what he needs! "You still wanna get bent over?" He pushed Ezarel down on his cock until he couldn't breathe. He nodded, fighting his gag reflex. "Well, whatever. I'm nutting now." What a gentleman.

Ezarel hummed, accepting his grim fate. Lance gathered all of his hair in his hand and held his pretty swan neck in the other, he widened his stance like the true warrior he was and began ramming into the poor elf like he was trying to poke a hole into his skull. It was quite enjoyable for Ezarel, he likes the humiliation. Lance moaned as he pressed against his shaft with his tounge, he was seconds away from the finish line.

The elf was trying desperately to not touch Lance, he wanted to so badly. The man slowed down significantly, he could feel the salty mess on his tounge already. Lance pushed at his chin with his thumb to open his mouth, pulled out and jerked. Ezarel stuck his tongue out to welcome the cum. "Hands." He held his palm out. Ezarel reached up and his bony fingers were guided around the shaft. He milked as much out as he could, mouth still agape. Lance's blue eyes were fixed on him, admiring him. "Good boy." He praised.

"Thank you." He said, sounding strange since he hadn't swallowed. After the way he got chewed out last time he swallowed without permission, he didn't dare to do it again.

"Nah, you did great. Don't thank me for what you deserve." He still firmly held his hair. "Swallow." His throat tightened but he forced it down. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and let out a sigh of relief when Lance sat down besides him. It was fun, but it was intense.

"Lance."

"Hm?" Lance leaned into the wall, resting.

"What about me?"

"Eh, in part 2."

Ezarel sighed. "Okay, fair enough."

...

I'd like to SUMMON THE COUNCIL!!!!

@aide-falls @losyashkakus @lumen-anima

And since this is a Lance fic, I would like to invite an honorary guest: @slowiedrakie

[idc4987]

The Cursed Queen | Part Two

Velaryon!oc x Targaryen brothers

Rhaenyra was half way through her dessert when Daemon loudly cleared his throat. Her shoulders dropped. She had been enjoying that night's feast. Jace and Luce were bickering over their dragons as Joffrey and Rhaena were pestering Aenessa to re-enact her perfect impression of his nanny. Rhaenrya had just suggested the chance of a family outing when her handmaiden delivered a letter from Rhaenys, speaking of Baela's boredom at Driftmark. The Lady wife of Corlys Velaryon had taken on her Granddaughter as her ward many moons ago and that meant a permanent home on the Isles of Driftmark as Rhaena moved with her Father to Dragonstone. The twins thrived together, but one was doomed to feel incomplete when the other was absent.

There was finally a sense of normality.

"Aenessa-" Daemon began.

"Daemon, must we do this now?" Rhaenyra muttered to him softly, gesturing to the four other children in the room.

Daemon was determined and shook of his wife's concerns. "We are to travel to the Royal Court in the morning." Every surrounding conversation fell silent. "I trust you will have any necessities packed and ready for our voyage?" He questioned the eldest of his stepchildren bluntly.

Aenessa calmly placed down the glass of peach wine that she had been drinking and swallowed slowly. "Of course." She answered curtly, pushing away Joffrey's waving hands. Aenessa's mask remained obsolete as she met Daemon's stare. She knew what he wanted. A reaction. Or, rather an overreaction. The very thing he had instructed her to hide. It was a test for how she would handle anything unpredicted the next day.

And she had passed.

Daemon nodded in acknowledgement and settled back into his seat. The air in the room remained tense, so tense to the point that the creaking of the guards armour had become audible. Aenessa held his stare perfectly, knowing he was expecting her to crack. She respected her Stepfather greatly and respected her Mother's choice to marry him after the death of Aenessa's Father. But there were moments where the Rogue Prince was someone she despised.

~~~~~~

King's Landing, The Next Day

Aegon Targaryen was a prick. He had been since birth. It seemed as though his curse was to be a perverted idiot and it only strengthened as he aged.

Being his junior, Aemond rarely saw how differing his brother's behaviour was around their niece. Aegon was simply his older sibling, he always thought of him as an idiot. However, growing up after losing his eye suddenly became more difficult than it had been before. As Aemond lost half his sight, Aegon lost half of his sanity. The problem child that had once been manageable to the inhabitants of the Red Keep quickly turned into a menace. Aemond took his place as their Mother's favourite and Aegon gladly did as he pleased.

Aegon became volatile and unpredictable. If his Grandsire, Otto Hightower, dared to invite the wild teen to court, nobody knew if he'd sit politely as expected or drunkenly belt his favourite song at the top his lungs. Aegon enjoyed reeking havoc as if it were a game. He was destructive and rude. When his Mother dared to propose the idea of his match to his sister Helaena, Aegon threatened to slit his own throat. His behaviours even stretched to ordering the palace chefs to send themselves to the executioners blade after they prepared his meal incorrectly.

It caused Aemond to develop a fierce disliking to his older brother. And that hatred tended to morph into a childish need to pick on him. Aegon returned it constantly, but only when his mind was not tainted by the copious amounts of alcohol he drank. Seeing as the result of last night's dinner had left him incapacitated until noon, Aemond almost skipped towards his room to tell him who was joining them in court that very day.

"Fuck off.." Aegon grumbled as he opened the door without knocking. His half naked figure rolled over into a sitting position and Aegon's face contorted into a smirk as he saw Aemond standing there. "Ah, Brother. How do you fare this great morning?" He asked sarcastically. Aegon did not give a single shit about how he was.

"You haven't broken your fast." Aemond explained, stoically stood at the end of his bed. "I also came to remind you of the guests we shall be hosting for the next five days are arriving today." Cannons of celebration exploded inside his chest as Aegon's face fell. It was nearing the anniversary of Aemond losing his eye and barely anything brought him joy. Yet seeing the dreaded realisation settle onto his older brother's feature made him want to dance. "Mother is also on her way right now to lecture you as well, I truly do wonder what you've done to upset her this time." Bullying the other had always been Aegon's trait. He'd remind Aemond of a memory or attempt to offer him some 'brotherly advice' that would ultimately humiliate the one-eyed prince. It was a sweet victory for Aemond to return the favour whenever he had the chance.

Aegon tried to hide his reaction and rolled back onto his pillow. Fuck Aemond, he didn't care if Aegon had eaten that day. He had come to gloat. Gloat that he was the one mentally prepared for the day ahead whilst Aegon was unwashed, dishevelled and a complete mess. He was happy to hear his brother leave. "Prick." Aegon mumbled a rant of insults under his breath. He hated how effortlessly perfect Aemond was. Always in the limelight. Although, his anger diffused quickly and Aegon fell asleep once again.

The moment of silence was short-lived. Alicent barged into his room as Aemond said she would, screaming at him to wake up. The plan to simply lie there and fool his Mother into thinking he was too deeply caught in his sleep to hear her. "Aegon!" He reluctantly turned over as she tried removing the sheets from him.

"Yes, Mother?" He smiled lazily. "What is it?" The sudden lose of protection from his blanket had him tossing and turning to find a more comfortable spot on his bed.

Alicent looked insulted at his simple question. "What is it?" She repeated mockingly. "What is it?! That's all you can say for yourself?" A slightly sober Aegon would have understood and remembered how fearsome his Mother was when she was frustrated, but whilst buried in the comfort of his bed and drowned in wine, Aegon had become forgetful and careless. He mumbled something inaudible into his pillow and Alicent continued interrogating him. "Dyana." Aegon was still unfazed. "The serving girl." Alicent added, trying to jog his memory further. He only huffed. "The girl, Aegon- the one you sent fleeing from your company."

It finally seemed to click in his mind, the jigsaw pieces of memory fitting together. "Oh it was just harmless fun." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "She didn't need to go and get all upset about."

It infuriated Alicent even further. How nonchalant he was about it all. "Think of the shame! Think of the shame on me! How can you keep carrying on like this, especially on a day like today?"

Something in Aegon's mind snapped and he goaded his Mother even further. "Why? What is so special about today?" Aegon knew why Alicent was so tightly strung about the day ahead, his own brother had reminded him so only minutes before. The so-called 'rebel princess' was returning to the Red Keep after ten years away from him. His rebel princess. His Nessa. Aegon didn't need the alcohol in his system to feel giddy about the day. However, his child-like foolishness earned him a slap. Aegon touched his cheek gingerly, feeling the angry red mark his Mother had left on him.

She was quiet for a while. It scared Aegon.

"You are no son of mine." Alicent's tone had dropped from one of anger to pure shame. She began to walk towards the door and leave Aegon to wallow in his own self pity.

He abruptly stood up from the bed, suddenly alert of his surroundings and the grave mistakes he had already made that morning. "I did not ask for this." Aegon pulls the blanket up to cover himself and retain any of the dignity he has left. "I have done everything you asked me to. I tried-" He pauses, holding back tears. "I try so hard, but it will never be enough for you or Father." His 'heartfelt' speech had no affect on Alicent. Even Aegon begins to feel embarrassed for himself when his Mother storms out of his door.

~~~~~~

*introduction* / *part 1*

[usagimen]

that could have been worse.

         THE COMMON GOSSIP AMONGST MAIDENS WAS TYPICAL, she grew used to it in youth. Bickering over who was the best dancer, singer, the new upcoming star that would hold power in Gion. All of them, wishing to seize the crown her family held for generations, Okiya Kobayashi did not meddle in the affairs of the common woman - they knew their station. With a faux politeness, she listens enthusiastically, the occasional eye roll or purse of her lips. Though shrouded by the slim paper mask, there is irritation rising, “Hm…” it echoes until goodbyes are given. Tightly, she sucks the air in before exhaling in a childish low grumble, “I rather hate to hear the ambition of gawking flowers, I’m not the most personable member of my family, frankly I was ready to tell her that new hairstyle resembles onigiri” wickedly, her eyes twinkle as she laughs.

            “It went well for now! You have no idea how scandalous one remark can be in this region, your entire public image? Gone, think you’re attending fancy banquets? Not anymore! We made out barely alive but, alas, you make for a good partner”  

[kibaswhore]

"Mask” w/ Tobi.

Content warning ☄. *. ⋆: Tobi x reader, smut, mentions of food, anal fingering, throat fucking, he also hasn’t showered, slight crack, female reader, just barely caught, also my man Deidara shows up a couple of times

Note ·˚ ༘: So I just wanted smut where the reader has a certain impression of what Tobi would be like in bed but in actuality, Obito never prepared his “Tobi” personality for this particular situation and results in unexpected rough seggs. Enjoy <3. Read responsibly.

You had just entered the building where a few of your colleagues had happily greeted you.

“Afternoon, m’lady,” a smile snuck onto your face as a certain one-eyed blonde approached you. That same smile grew in entertainment as you watched Deidara's face drop and voice lower as he spat, “hello Tobi.”

You and the masked man had just returned from a troublesome mission in the hidden cloud, one that you somehow managed to survive thanks to Tobi’s skill as a renowned “escape artist”. As much as you loved him — his antics could get very tiring to say the least, especially when they involve near death situations. You watched the man in question puff out his chest in a show of bravado as he responded to Deidara, a clear provocation. You chose to stare at the space around you, you found more interest in admiring the new furnishing as opposed to the bickering taking place before you. You got a solid few minutes of watching the potted plants do absolutely nothing but exist until Deidara began to address you again.

“He didn’t almost get you killed again, did he? Or better yet; almost get himself killed, hm?” A smug look played over his face as his arms crossed along his chest. Tobi slouched before pointing a gloved finger at Deidara and you were honestly shocked that the blonde didn’t bite it off — I mean it’s what any rational person would’ve done, right?

“I hope you know I haven’t almost gotten myself killed as much as you have Deidara; I mean you’re the one with a self-detonating Jutsu, not me!!”

“It’s not like I’ve died yet you troglodyte. And I think it’d do you some good to have Jutsu as strong and profound as mine.”

You soon interrupted the squabble, “Well what I think, Tobi, is that you did really well on this mission. I’m really proud of you.” The two men had paused completely and Deidara stared at you with an incredulous look in his eye before he turned and stomped off with a cross of his arms and a pout, muttering a short “whatever, see ya”. You sighed and let out a weary chuckle before turning and gently inviting Tobi into the kitchen to get yourselves something to eat, to which he accepted with a slight stutter.

Making your way into the kitchen, you had checked the fridge for any sort of meal and noticed there wasn’t anything pre-made that had caught your eye. You bet that Tobi was as hungry as you were; too hungry to be picky — but here you were frowning at the lack of store bought savoury foods. You turned to the masked man sheepishly as you spoke,

“Um, I’m going to make something myself if that’s okay? You can grab something from the fridge if you don’t like it.” Tobi put a gloved hand to his forehead in a salute before replying.

“Affirmative! Although I’m sure I will, sweet Y/n.” You blushed at the term of endearment and you left him to his devices as you began to cook. Clearly his devices didn’t last long as you had noticed his figure looming over yours for the past 12 minutes, ogling over each decision you made that brought you to the finished dish. You knew he was close behind you, but you weren’t ready for how close his face (or rather, his mask) was to your face when you turned to ask what condiments he’d like. Your heart began to race as he slowly leaned into you, trapping you between his body and the counter. His hands had snuck past you and quickly pulled the dish from behind you before shooting you a quick and polite “this is fine, thank you for the food!”, dashing away. You stood in the center of the kitchen in embarrassment as you fanned your face. The proximity had left you hot. You had to confront your feelings for the clownish man at some point.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself with two fingers plunged deep into your cunt, nothing else on your mind but your masked partner. Your hooked your fingers slightly and your mind brought you to wonder what he’d do if you had gotten your way with him. He’s so aloof- and wholesome! Would he stare up through the hole in his mask lovingly as you rode him to his peak? Would he slowly fuck you in missionary, desperately avoiding his orgasm? As nice as his build was, he didn’t look like a man with any experience — certainly didn’t act like one. Maybe he would come far too quickly for his liking, resulting in you giving words of encouragement to keep him going. It wasn’t long before the sheets under you grew dark with your juices as you came all over your fingers, repeatedly slurring the same name with a whine; Tobi.

Well, speak of the devil and he will appear. You weren’t sure what gods you pissed off to have this happen, but you wished you had apologized to them sooner. The door to your room slammed open as the man, who you had come to know as your friend, was greeted by your sweaty naked form.

“Dear y/n! Are you oka…y” The poor man couldn’t even finish his question as he felt his clothed cock twitch to life at the sight of you. You swiftly brought him back to reality by closing your legs and screaming to close the door. He obeyed, and the door slid shut behind him before he walked over to the bed you used to be so comfortable in. You immediately noticed that he was missing his cloak, which wasn’t uncommon, but you just loved to ogle the way his black underclothes hugged his tall and somewhat muscular figure. He was also clutching his crotch for dear life. He sat on the edge of your bed as he reached for your inner thigh, gloved fingers digging into the hot flesh. He gently pulled your legs apart and observed the natural lubricant that steadily flowed out from between your pussy lips and drenched your asshole as he slowly began to speak. His voice was gentle and curious, so much like the Tobi you’ve come to know and love.

“You were saying… my name?” You quietly nodded, too afraid to speak and reveal just how out of breath you were from the earth-shattering orgasm that the mere thought of him had put you through. You squeaked when he adjusted himself to sit between your legs as his free hand went to rub slow circles on your clit with extreme focus on how your hole clenched around nothing. The fabric of his glove on your sensitive bud spurred you on even more.

“I need you, Tobi,” you had pleaded much more erotically than you had hoped, but you were unwavering in your stance, “I need that cock.” He didn’t waste any time before he pulled his pants down just past his balls, sure to conceal any scarring on his right leg, letting his length hit his clothed stomach as his reddish tip drooled a steady stream of precum. He tilted his head up as he felt the cold air hit his dick, careful to conceal any noises that could break the character he had spent years perfecting. He almost blew it when you had crawled in front of him on all fours and began stroking his cock slowly. His hips rolled to the pace you set, steadily fucking your hand with a gentle sigh. His cock was throbbing in your palm. His receptiveness to your touch was exactly what you had imagined; he was gonna be a good boy for you. You began to lick a long stripe along the vein on the underside of his length, causing his hips to buck under you. You finally decided to give him some mercy and took him into your mouth. You had nothing but pleasant thoughts as you enjoyed the taste, and even the smell, of him; he hadn’t showered in a while, you could tell, and you liked it that way.

Your thoughts were disturbed when Tobi’s sudden grip on your hair you off guard. Gloved fingers dug into the back of your head and neck as he shoved himself deeper inside your mouth; starting to fuck your throat with reckless abandon. The sounds were pornographic; his low-hanging saliva-coated balls slapped your chin loudly, synced with the sounds your throat made as his cock head entered and reentered your mouth, made for the most beautiful symphony he’s ever heard. You shut your eyes tightly as you took him down to his base where his dark pubes tickled your nose and opened them when he finally relented and pulled you off of his dick. You didn’t have much time to react before he twisted you around so you were lying flat on your stomach, his unexpected man-handling scrambling your brain.

There was no time to question his sudden… enthusiasm as you felt his fat tip slide up and down along your pussy, collecting all the juices that leaked out of you onto his cock to make entering you easier. His left hand had been pressed firmly onto your back and he essentially had you pinned below him; both of his legs on either side of yours as he sat atop the back of your thighs. He shifted from his sitting position to get ready to fuck you, slowly guiding himself inside of you before moving both of his gloved hands to your side to pin you down and hold himself up in an almost push-up-like position.

After carefully watching your pussy slowly swallow half of his length, he pulled back slightly and then roughly speared the rest of himself into you. He didn’t give you much time before he fucked you with deep and fast strokes and knocked the wind out of your lungs. Your pussy was desperately attempting to clench around him, which his pace did not allow. He pulled out to his tip and pushed in all the way to his base, letting his heavy testicles smack your wet clit with each swift thrust. Your feet kicked around as he fucked you deeper into the mattress with the help of your slick, making for the most obscene noises you’ve heard. You were both well aware that your squeals and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall would alert your co-workers, but you couldn’t deny that the thrill of being caught getting thoroughly penetrated by Tobi turned you on even more. It was only a matter of time before you’d begin to invite him to fuck you on the couch in the main area for everyone to see.

You choked back a scream as the masked man’s pace grew faster and more erratic. He was close and you wanted nothing more but to take every drop of what he gave you. You suddenly felt the cold flesh of his hand as he spread your ass cheeks, his cock still kissing your cervix with each thrust. He had taken off his left glove, allowing you to feel the soft pads of his fingers as they firmly gripped your ass and his thumb circled the tight ring of muscle. You gasped at the feeling of his thick digit entering and fucking your asshole as best as it could. You dug your hand under your body, which was still being rocked by the harsh thrusts of your partner, and finally reached your clit and rubbed it as best as you can in your position.

You could feel your second high creeping up on you as a pressure built up in your stomach and Tobi never let up on his pace. You let out a silent scream as the pressure in you snapped and you heard a mutter of a very foreign-sounding “fuck” from under his mask. A gasp left you as Tobi quickly pulled out of you and fisted his cock with the hand that was just fingering your asshole. His balls tightened as he finally released, and the thick ropes of cum had travelled fast and far; his semen landing on the headboard, your head, your back, and eventually drooling onto your ass.

You looked back as Tobi dismounted you, tucking himself back in and putting his glove back on while avoiding your gaze, staring forward. You felt… empty without him so intimately pressed against you, fucking you like you were just a doll for his pleasure only. You already missed the way he abused your tight cunt, turning onto your side posed in the most delicious position. You were so hot and Tobi had lost control like he was some hormonal teenager; something he told himself he’d never allow to do ever again. He turned to leave and opened the door before turning back around to look at you. He gulped at your wearily entertained expression; a face that suggested you knew he was about to try and bullshit his way out of the very uncharacteristic dominance he just displayed. He cleared his throat, which he had to admit was already pretty dry and did in fact, start to bullshit.

“Oh- well um- I guess I’ll see you around!! Maybe uh- a round two- perhaps? That would be nice- wouldn’t it??” He kept on going and going — his voice unintentionally cracking may I add — until he fully backed out the door and closed it after a short “bye”. He barely got to exhale before he was immediately met with Deidara’s eye of suspicion as it stared into Tobi’s own eye. The ravenette couldn’t help the scream that sounded from him, a genuine scream, followed by the brutal quiet of the vicinity. The silence between the two was filled with chewing noises, the blonde’s gaze unwavering as his left hand was very obviously feeding on detonating clay from a small sack he held with in his right. Tobi slowly stepped to the side and ran down the hall, the sound of his footsteps disappearing sooner than they should’ve. That fucker teleported away. Deidara closed his eye in frustration before looking at the door and remembering why he was here in the first place. He wanted to talk to you about joining him on a mission he was given in which he’d return to wreak havoc upon the hidden stone, his home, yet again.

“What was that idiot doing in there?” He had relinquished his hand from the bag of clay before opening the door to be met with your almost naked figure. You were in the middle of hooking your bra together when you noticed the door open and froze entirely before quietly greeting him. Deidara’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Your hair was not in the same state as it was when you came in, you were nearly naked, and Tobi had just left your room. You had just gotten fucked. And out of all people it was by-

“TOBI???”

[dartlekey]

GUT INSTINCT

A stranger things spideypool!steddie/marvel au

TW: Gore, Blood, Cancer mention

Read on ao3

Eddie doesn't think before he acts, which is nothing new - as is throwing himself recklessly in harm's way. He usually doesn't do it for someone else, though, so he ends up not just surprising himself, but also Spiderman (whom he just roughly shouldered out of the way), and the guy who was trying to stab Spiderman in the gut and instead stuck his knife into Eddie - or, from his perspective, into the costumed mercenary slash occasional vigilante known as Deadpool.

Eddie looks down at the knife, and back up at the man, who seems very surprised that Eddie is still standing. 

"Jesus H. Christ, that could hurt someone," Eddie says, and shoots him point blank in the head.

»»——⍟——««

No, he has to start farther back, it doesn't make sense like this. So! This morning at eleven thirty-five, Eddie is woken up by the gentle sun rays streaming into his comfortable two-bedroom apartment -

Okay, that's a bit too far. Maybe he should start with his walk home, that's where shit went sideways. Right!

Right. Eddie is walking home from one of the easiest jobs he's ever been on - entry and exit were clean, he not only didn't get injured but didn't even get blood on himself or his freshly fixed-up supersuit... So he's in good spirits, whistling to himself while he's figuring out how to turn this particular planned murder into a campaign mission for the online D&D group he DM's for, and he's not really paying his surroundings all that much attention. This is important because he’d usually be fast enough to evade most projectiles, but the web that flings him into the nearest alley and staples him to the brick wall at the end of it catches him off-guard. 

“You,” Spiderman says accusingly, dropping down next to him. “I should’ve known they were with you; they’re all carrying medieval swords.”

Eddie blinks bemusedly. “Hi, handsome. Not sure what you’re talking about, but if you want to tie me up and have your wily way with me it’s usually considered polite to ask first.”

Spiderman’s mask contorts in a way that implies confusion. “What?”

Even with his arms stuck to his sides, Eddie manages to slip his daggers out of the sheathes on his thighs, and he slashes his way out of the trapping in two quick strokes. “I get it - we’ve run into each other a few times recently, enough to establish a certain mutual attraction, but like, take me to dinner first, you know?”

Spiderman just scoffs, and Eddie grins under the mask - no matter whether they meet as foe or friend, he loves riling up the vigilante. Spiderman is funny in his earnestness, and pretty hot in all that spandex too, so Eddie has been flirting with him (or rather, at him) since the first time they met. Spiderman, in return, always seems somewhat confused by him - it’s probably hard for someone with such a classical set of moral standards to grasp why he sometimes finds himself in allyship with Eddie, and working against him other times. 

For Eddie, it’s fairly simple: sometimes his target is an obvious “bad guy”, so Spiderman will want to help take him down (even if he’ll bicker with Eddie about the morals of killing), and sometimes his target is only visible as bad if you’ve done a thorough background check, so Spiderman (who usually hasn’t) will want to protect the “innocent civilian” and they’ll end up butting heads. It’s always a toss up who will come out on top - Eddie could easily kill him, of course, but he really likes Spiderman, and besides, the poor guy is only trying to help. So Eddie has to find ways to incapacitate him that aren’t grievous bodily harm, and since he’s not used to that, Spiderman will sometimes gain the upper hand.

“Incoming!” , yells a strange, double-layered voice, and a group of extremely shady-looking men rounds the corners. Eddie notices two things: one, they’re all carrying swords, and like they know how to use them, and two, chasing them is that creature-like hero Eddie’s only ever seen on the news, but never interacted with. Spiderman seems to not just know Venom, though, but to be working together with her, and -

“ Hey ,” Eddie realizes, as the gangsters skid to a halt, trapped between Venom behind them and Spiderman and Eddie in front of them, “You really assumed I was working with these clowns just because they’re also carrying blades? Mine are vintage, I’ll have you know.”

Spiderman tilts his head, and realizing Eddie is not a threat, apparently decides to ignore him. He tells the goons, “Look, you’re surrounded. Just drop the weapons and turn yourselves in, and I promise no harm will come to you.”

Admittedly, Spiderman usually has a pretty good sense for when he’s in danger, but he’s also a bit naive, so he only notices the goons dropping their big swords, not the guy standing just to the left of their leader slipping his arm behind his back. Eddie catches the movement just in time, though, and manages to shove Spiderman out of the way before getting unfortunately impaled on the hidden weapon.

So yeah. Eddie shoots the guy in the head, watches him fall over like a dead tree, then immediately cocks his gun and shoots the guy sprinting towards him, about to attempt the same thing. 

"Right. Any more takers?", he asks, blood slowly seeping out from under the knife handle. It's actually more of a short sword, Eddie considers - judging from the hilt, and also from the fact that it's stuck in him at an angle but he can still feel it coming out his back. Thank god he managed to intercept that moron; Spiderman may be a mutie as well but Eddie highly doubts he would've survived something like this. 

The other goons slowly move back, then do a hasty one-eighty and scatter around Venom, who is too distracted by Eddie’s plight to catch them sprinting away. Eddie tries to shoot them as well, but suddenly his hands are shaking too much to get proper aim, and he ends up dropping the gun. "Ah, shit. Could you pick that up for me? I think the shock is setting in."

"What the fuck, what the actual fuck," Spiderman wheezes, scrabbling to get away from the corpses next to him, or maybe from Eddie, which is almost adorable in a fucked up kind of way, because not even three years ago Eddie knows he would've reacted just the same. Venom makes a sort of squinting face that might be her rolling her eyes, and starts in the direction of the fleeing men, but Spiderman must not be as out of it as he seems because he immediately yelps, "If you kill them I'm not bringing any more brownies to movie night!", and Venom actually growls before loping off on all fours, in supernaturally fluid strides. 

Eddie blinks down at Spiderman bemusedly. "You guys have movie nights? Like, in full costume, or -"

Eddie tilts his head, and slowly begins to sit down, wobbling all the way. "Oh, you know each other privately. Duh. That explains a lot. Sorry, my brain is a bit slow from trying to process being stabbed." 

Spiderman catches him, strong arms gripping tight as he eases Eddie to the ground. "Oh, fuck, oh fuck . It's gonna be okay, man, I'll call an ambulance in a second, but I need you to stay with me, okay? Just stay with me, we're gonna get you through this -"

Spiderman sounds so desperate, so worried for someone he doesn't even know, someone who's only ever been a nuisance to him - it causes a soft ache in  Eddie, overpowering even the pain of the stab wound for a brief moment. The feeling is so intense, in fact, that for a few seconds Eddie forgets he isn't actually dying, Spiderman has just never seen his powers in action, or at least not payed attention enough. 

"Oh, no, man," he wheezes, "don't worry, I'll - I'll be alright."

"Yeah, that's the spirit," Spiderman says, voice breaking, and Eddie gurgles a laugh. "No, I'm serious, Spidey. I'm a mutant too, my - I have superhuman healing; I'm practically immortal. I just -"

He winces, trying to lean against the wall next to him without jarring the sword. "This is one of those… worse before it gets better wounds. Can't heal until - until I get the sword out, but if I pull the sword out, blood everywhere, guts on the payment, and I'll probably pass out from shock before I can regenerate anything -"

He coughs wetly, feels blood spray against the inside of his mask. "Oh, ew," Eddie whines. "You're paying for the dry cleaning, babe."

Before Spiderman can gather his wits enough to respond, Venom returns, with one of the goons' hands gripped in hers - only his hand, though, torn off at the forearm.

"I said no killing!" Spiderman hisses, and Venom shrugs. " You didn't say no maiming, " she responds with her weird, layered voice, " He's fine, we tied off his arm with the rest of the cable binders. Wrapped the whole gang around a lamppost two streets down, people were already calling the police when we left."

Spiderman responds with a long-suffering sigh, and Eddie grins, fascinated with the evidently deep friendship of the two. "Oh, I like you, we should hang out sometime."

Venom startles, turning her attention onto him and - something weird happens. Her voice loses a layer, and is now only the clipped, clearly enunciated tone of an upper class young woman. "What on - he's still alive?"

" We can change that ," growls a lower, rougher voice - still coming from her, but like, from around her instead of her mouth. Eddie stares, wondering if he's started hallucinating, but usually his pain threshold is a lot higher than this. "Are you… two people?"

Blue and white tendrils curl around him curiously, like a kitten eager to play. "We are Venom. We are one made of two, human and symbiote, bonded for life. She is in me right now, but I am always in her."

"Hot," Eddie says, and his perforated stomach makes a weird glooping noise. "Oh, Christ. And for the record, you can't kill me dead because I'll just regenerate, but you can get me to die temporarily if you try hard enough. Rather you didn't, though. I think this stupid knife is cutting it close, anyway."

Spiderman stands up, and squares his shoulders. "Right, then. Venom, help me take him home."

Venom's head jerks sideways, like an antelope hearing a lion approaching. "Are you insane? You want that guy to know where you live?"

"I like him. I think we should be friends," the symbiote suggests helpfully, " or eat him ," and both heroes scoff, though Eddie can't tell at which of the suggestions. "It's not ideal, but I can't just leave him here to die ," Spiderman says, "even if he does come back. This place isn't safe for someone in a helpless position, that's the whole reason we went here! Are we really the good guys if we can't protect someone in need?"

Venom's eyes turn into slits. " We'll cover his eyes," they decide, " if he has a tracker somewhere on him that's on you."

Spiderman shrugs, and Eddie sees him touch at his wrist just before Venom wraps a slimy tendril around Eddie's head, shrouding his vision in darkness. "I'll make a net," Spiderman says, among small hissing noises from his web shooters. "We'll carry him like that statue in Staten island."

" Ugh, don't remind me. We're lucky we didn't chip that thing."

Eddie feels himself being lifted, and gently placed onto a soft gossamer net, which gives slightly at his weight. They laid him on his side, but he still can't help a pained grunt, and he feels hesitation from both sides of him, which he quickly waves away. "Chill, I'm gonna be in constant pain anyway until I get that sword out. Let's get going, I wanna see the Spider digs."

" On a scale from one to ten, how much are you already regretting this?", Venom asks cheekily, and Spiderman sighs. "How about we stop talking for a little while."

Eddie manages almost twenty minutes of that, which is a new record for him - although that might be because he keeps slipping in and out of consciousness to the gentle swinging of his net. Eventually, though, he finds himself adjusted enough to the feeling of brink-of-death floatiness to ask, "so how does Spiderman differentiate, when he only wants to adress one of you? You're not both Venom all the time, I know that."

" He gave me the name Robin when we met!", the symbiote answers cheerfully, " like the bird, because I made him feel free or whatever, you know, he's a sap like that. Nancy's the one who started calling me his Venom to hurt both of us, but for one thing it wasn't exactly untrue, and for another it did sort of fit her as well so we kept it for both of us when we-"

She makes a strange sound, like being choked, but Eddie can guess what's going on - the host is probably not too happy about how talkative her little parasite is being. "Nancy, huh? You sound like a Nancy. Or a Betty. Something with a lot of catholic guilt behind it."

"Robin I swear ," Nancy hisses, "if he finds me as a civilian because of this -"

"Yeah, because there's definitely only one Nancy in the sprawling city of New York," Spiderman can't help but chime in, and Eddie laughs. "Only one superhero called Robin, you know. Different franchise though, shame really."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Eventually, the swinging stops - Eddie feels himself being heaved through a window, carried across what sounds like tile. At this point he feels so woozy it's like he's drunk, except he can't get drunk anymore because his super healing burns alcohol faster than he can drink it (and he does miss getting shitfaced, but not enough to nearly kill himself every time he wants a little buzz). "Oh, this reminds me of college," he mumbles, then - as if on queue - he hears that fucked-up sounding bell outside, and lifts his head so quickly the room spins behind his eyelids. "Shit, was that - was that the CUNY Tower bell? Are you guys college students? Man, which semester?"

"Seventh," Spiderman answers automatically, then grunts, presumably from Nancy kicking him in the shin. "Uh, I mean - shit."

Eddie giggles, numbers whirring in his head as he's lifted over the edge of something to lean against a smooth, cold surface. "Hey, if I'd stayed in college we'd be in the same year! That's crazy."

"Why'd you drop out?" Spiderman asks, and Eddie hears water running.

"Oh, well, I got insane amounts of cancer," Eddie answers cheerfully, just as Venom finally peels their tentacle…slime… whatever off the front of his mask.

He's propped up in a bathtub, he realizes; the bathroom is small but remarkably clean, considering at least one male college student lives here. Spiderman is leaning against the lip of the bathtub, arms out in case Eddie slumps over, and Venom's at the sink, wetting a rag to clean up the blood on their suits. Both of them have their full attention on him, though, body language speaking of shock, and Eddie tries to remember what he was just talking about. "Oh! Yeah, it was a whole thing. Shit really hit the fan in third semester - I had this band, see, Corroded Coffin, the principal let us play the sickest metal for the freshmen welcoming ceremony, but -"

"The lead singer fainted and fell off stage, I remember," Nancy says. "That was you?"

Eddie giggles again. "Yeah! At first I thought I'd just pregamed too hard but my stupid bandmates drove me to the hospital, and turns out I had brain cancer! And lung cancer. And liver cancer. Just a whole lot of cancer. Terminal, obviously; doctors said I had four months, tops.”

"Jesus," Spiderman says tonelessly. Eddie shrugs exaggeratedly, but ends up whining in pain when the movement makes the tip of the sword scrape against the bathtub. It really fucking hurts, and it takes him a few seconds to get his breath back to continue. "Ah, fuck. Yeah, honestly, I should've just given up right then; I was already drowning in college debt, no way would I be able to pay for chemo, and making my uncle pay it all off after watching the kid he raised like a son die anyway? Nightmare scenario. Thing is, I knew people, I knew people who knew people who knew people because I'd been dealing since high school and my white trash dad is a prison regular, so I heard about this guy who was testing his lab rat mutagens on people with nothing to lose, and I was like, fuck it, lets do it. And then he -"

Eddie stops talking, then, because in a moment of sudden clarity he realizes that he's spilling his guts to two complete strangers, metaphorically speaking, and not literally like they'd planned. They don't need to know all this. They probably don't want to know all this, especially the bits that follow, with the torture and the constant terror and Chrissy . Chrissy, sweet and undeserving, in the rickety stolen hospital bed next to his, Chrissy, laughing and smiling as he cracked jokes to distract them both from the pain.

Chrissy dying, bones breaking as if by themselves as the mutating agent destroyed her body. The rage and terror flooding through him at the sight of her death causing his very cells to realign, his mind bleeding out and turning the world into fractals until he blacked out from confusion and fear.

Then, waking up with a hand full of scalpels and the mad doctor who'd killed Chrissy cut up into pieces. Staring at himself in the cracked lab mirror, his body feeling strong and healthy again for the first time in months, but looking scarred and warped beyond recognition.

"Well, he turned me into a monster, and now I kill bad people for other bad people, in the hopes that encouraging the infighting will buy the actual good guys enough time to change the world in the meantime. Cute, right? Anyways, we should get that metal stick out of me, I'm getting sick of tasting my own blood."

"... Right," Venom says after a too-long pause. "So do we just - pull it out, or…?"

"Yeah, just give it a big ole tug," Eddie says, tapping the handle, and even manages not to wince. "And do it fast, the slower you go the more it hurts."

" Not like we could do any more damage," Venom muses, and Eddie nods along. "Yeah, exac- OH MY GOD give a guy a warning -"

Blood pulses out of him in almost comedic spurts, gushing over the white porcelain. Eddie barely manages a "Fuck -" before his eyes roll back in his head and his consciousness blows out like a candle flame.

»»——⍟——««

When he comes to, Eddie doesn't know how long he was gone, but judging by the state of his body it can't have been that long because he still feels like freeze-dried mac-and-cheese, in a bad way. With tremendous effort he lifts his head to look around - tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum are still with him, which is oddly touching; Venom's sat on the edge of the sink with her knees curled to her chest, softly talking to herself (or rather, Robin and Nancy are talking to each other, probably?). The stupid fucking sword is laid across the laundry rack in the corner, freshly cleaned and glinting softly - and it looks a lot better for wear than Spiderman, who's slumped over the edge of the bathtub next to him. Eddie's pretty sure the guy just threw up, because the room has this ripe, slightly acidic smell to it now, and Spiderman's mask is slightly askew, with dirty-blonde tufts of hair poking out from the neckline. 

"Oh, man, sorry about that," Eddie mumbles, and both heroes jerk to attention. "Did my body do a Shloormp while I was dead?"

"A what?" Venom asks incredulously as she unfolds her long legs, and Eddie waves an arm vaguely. "That's what I call it when I get one of those fucked up stomach wounds, y'know, where the guts spill out through the tear, but then when my body heals it sucks them back in so it makes a sound like -"

"Yeah, it did," Spiderman says, sounding hoarse. "Fuck. I know you said you'd come back if you died, but that was terrifying."

"I know, right? Great party trick," Eddie jokes on autopilot, because he's not prepared for how earnest Spiderman sounds, how relieved. 

" Well, he's back now," Venom says, stretching her arms above her head, " which means we've done our duty."

"You're leaving?", Spiderman asks, voice a weird mix of relief and disappointment, and Venom sighs. " Need some more oxytocin, this was pretty taxing. Pizza and recon tomorrow?"

"Done," Spiderman says, and with a casual wave Venom walks through the bathroom door, her slimy second skin melting away with a last " Love you" to reveal just a flash of curly brown hair above a dusty cashmere sweater and jeans before the door closes behind her.

Spiderman remains at Eddie's side, elbows propped on the tub as he watches him, and of course it's then that Eddie's weird half-formed crush rears its ugly head, whispering things like hey, what if you just lifted the rim of his mask and kissed him , or, you should tell him he has pretty eyes. Sure, you haven't seen them, but they're probably pretty, right?

But while Eddie is an insufferable flirt, he's also a coward, and he does have enough braincells left to not make a regrettable move when there's no immediate possibility of a hasty exit.

So instead he says, "You guys have some really weird chemistry, by the way. You and Venom, I mean. You're like, best buds and complete strangers at the same time, what's up with that?"

Spiderman sighs and rubs at his temples, which only serves to pull the mask even more crooked. "It's… complicated."

Eddie gives Spiderman a very unimpressed head tilt. "I've died 28 times. I can do complicated."

Spiderman tilts his head in the same direction, so they're looking at each other straight on. "Robin is my best friend," he says honestly, "and Nancy is my ex-girlfriend, and their consciousnesses are permanently fused together."

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Shit. I rescind my earlier statement, I cannot do complicated. How the fuck did that happen? Superhero tinder meet-cute gone wrong?"

Spiderman snorts a laugh, genuinely amused for the first time that day, and Eddie finds himself worried for the guy - it's probably unhealthy, being that serious all the time, right? "I don't think superhero tinder is a thing - no, Nancy and I met when we were both still… you know. Normal."

Spiderman leans back against the sink cabinet. "Freshman orientation, actually. She caught my eye immediately, I had her number by the end of the campus tour. Would've been easier though if my other new friend hadn't accidentally cockblocked me most of the time," he adds, fondness softening his words. "See, I was a bit of a jock, seemed to know what I was about I guess, so this kid immediately latched onto me - he was fifteen at the time, a crazy gifted science nerd who'd gotten a headstart in school but definitely not in his social life. Really bitchy on the surface, and an insufferable know-it-all, but real sweet once you get to know him. Huge heart, and completely ride-or-die for his friends."

The description kind of reminds Eddie of Dustin from his online D&D group, and he has to smile at the coincidence of both Dustin and this other kid graduating highschool at the same age (of course, they don’t share personal details like last name and location on their discord server, it is the internet after all, but Dustin is so talkative Eddie could probably doxx him if he put in the effort). But seriously, what are they putting in the water these days that's making all the kids so smart? When Eddie was still in college, he was contemplating dropping out half the time because his coursework made him want to tear his hair out. 

"So we became friends pretty quick, and he'd drag me along every time he needed a chaperone, which is how only half way through that first semester I ended up at some weird international science conference. We're still not 100% sure what happened; Henderson - uh, my friend, thinks that someone's biochem experiment got loose and they covered it up with another exhibit. Personally, my bet is that it was just a normal bug that accidentally dropped into like, the radiation exhibit or whatever. All we know for sure is at some point this weird-looking spider dropped onto my hand and bit me, and I woke up the next day with the ability to crawl up walls and sense danger."

"And so you decided to save the world," Eddie concludes, not able to keep the mocking edge out of the statement, but Spiderman shakes his head, shoulders slumping with regret. "I told you, Deadpool, I was a dumb jock. I didn't give a shit about anyone but myself - the only thing I used my powers for was showing off at frat parties and climbing into Nancy's dorm room in the middle of the night. Until one day - "

He breaks off, swallowing. "One day I was on my way to meet Nancy for coffee, went past a bank, and this guy ran out with a bulging bag and a wild look on his face, cops chasing after him. And I - and I just stepped aside, got out of the way. I could've stopped him, but I didn't wanna be late for a stupid fucking coffee date, and the next morning, still curled up in Nancy's bed, we saw on the news that her best friend Barbara had been shot by a runaway bank robber."

Eddie sucks in air between his teeth, tasting metal because the inside of his mask is still covered in blood. "Christ."

Spiderman laughs, but it's bitter and broken, nothing like the laugh from before. "Yeah, turns out my dad was right: when you run from your responsibilities, someone else gets hurt. So I stopped running - Henderson helped me with the gear and the other logistics, and Nancy would patch up my wounds and let me fall more deeply in love with her each day. Well, until about a year in, when we got too drunk at a halloween party the kids had bullied us into, and she confessed that she didn't love me, that she'd just stayed with me because -"

He pauses again, more thoughtfully this time. "You know, she never really did explain. 'Bullshit reasons' is what she said. Maybe she felt she owed it to me after I turned over a new leaf, or that it was a punishment for abandoning Barb - the only reason Barb was even in the neighborhood she was shot in was because Nancy and her were supposed to go shopping, but Nancy ditched her to meet me, so, y’know."

"Ah. Then maybe you were both just traumatized as shit so she clung to the only person who made her feel safe?", Eddie suggests. 

Spiderman makes a startled noise, and Eddie shrugs (and does wince this time around). "I was an English Lit and Psychology major. Also a theater kid," he says, "so I might be dead wrong but at least it's gonna sound poetic in your memoir."

Spiderman lets out a suspiciously wet chuckle. "I'm not writing this shit down. You're the first person I've even told about any of this who wasn't part of it."

"Okay, I'll write the memoir then," Eddie jokes. "You can leave the chapter about your mouthwatering physique to me, but where does Robin come in?"

Spiderman just sits quietly for a second, presumably staring at him before slowly continuing, "Henderson, again. He found a fucked-up looking puppy in the park, snuck it into his dorm, but then it broke into the food pantry and uh, it ate someone’s cat -”

“Oh, that isn’t ominous,” Eddie says, and adds, “sorry, continue.”

“So I took it outside to get rid of it and it just - died. Well, that’s what I thought at the time. Turned out later that Robin had just jumped hosts from that dog to me, and drained it in the process. See, Robin is -”

Spiderman clicks his tongue, and sighs. “There is no sane sounding way to put this. Robin is an alien - genuinely, like in Star Trek and all that nerd shit that Henderson likes - who got here by hitching a ride on an asteroid that crashed somewhere in India a few years ago. Her species can survive in outer space, but on a proper planet with an atmosphere they need to piggy-back on some native species so the foreign environment doesn’t kill them. Usually they completely take over the brain, but I was the first sentient creature Robin had ever latched onto, so she was fascinated. Sat in the back of my head, sifted through my memories, watched what my life was like. Started making suggestions, all sneaky at first, but I did notice eventually that the voice in my head wasn’t mine, so we started talking properly, and decided to ‘help each other out’. And by that I mean she would make me do impulsive, reckless shit, and I would let her, because I was fucking tired of being in control all the time, and Robin was fun, and excited about the world like I hadn’t been in ages. Henderson caught on around the time she started eating people -”

“I’m sorry?”, Eddie says, morbidly delighted, but Spiderman just presses on, “But he didn’t know what to do or how to stop me. In the end we did ourselves in, because Robin suggested we go and harass Nancy about leaving us, while she was on a date with that photography major she’d befriended in second semester.”

“Oof,” Eddie says, and Spiderman shrugs. “Nancy immediately knew something was off, she’s not studying journalism for nothing. Her and her then boyfriend eventually managed to trap me and Robin in the university bell tower and separate us, but then of course Robin immediately started dying, and I begged Nancy to let me take her back - not for my sake, but for hers. And something about that must’ve hit, because then Nancy surprised all of us by grabbing the symbiote shell and absorbing it herself. She and Robin ended up being a way better fit - Nancy has the impulse control that I don’t, and she’s so much smarter than me; we split up patrols now but team up for big stuff, and we started hanging out in private besides.”

“Ah. So you get to watch both the girls who rejected you fall in gay love with each other while you’re still not over them,” Eddie jokes to lighten the mood - but the joke lands like a pile of bricks, and Spiderman stands up wordlessly. “Shit, man, I didn’t mean - I didn’t realize, I’m sorry,” Eddie tries, but Spiderman just says tensely, “Gonna go change, don’t go anywhere,” and leaves the room.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes, and pokes at his own tender, freshly-formed skin through the tear in his suit. “Yeah, okay, like I’d walk around with residual internal bleeding. Social suicide is enough suicide for me today. Fuck , I’m so stupid.”

Spiderman returns a few minutes later in sweats and a soft yellow sweater - and absurdly, it makes him look even more built than the skin-tight spandex does. Something about contrasts or whatever; all Eddie knows is that he’s fucking gay and he wishes Spiderman had taken his mask of as well instead of tugging it straight.

“You’re around my size, so these should fit,” Spiderman says quietly, and shoves a bundle at Eddie that Eddie hadn’t even noticed with all the gay panic going on - faded jean cutoffs and a red fleece hoodie that Eddie wants to bury his face in, but the idea of any part of his skin being exposed sparks immediate fear into him. “Oh, no, I’m uh, I’m good.”

Spiderman puts his hands on his hips, stubborn like a disappointed mom. “Your suit is dripping with blood and torn besides, you’re not trailing that through my apartment. I can look away while you rinse the mask of course, but -”

“Oh, trust me, I’m plenty recognizable even with my face covered,” Eddie says bitterly, pulling his knees to his chest. Spiderman’s stance immediately shifts into ‘worried mom’ instead, and instead of letting it go like a sensible person, he asks, “why?”

Well. The guy did just spill his whole life’s story to him. “When I said Vecna turned me into a monster, I wasn’t exaggerating,” Eddie explains, hoping his dry tone will cover up the shakiness of his voice. “My skin looks like an avocado had sex with an older, more disgusting avocado. I already made you hurl once, don’t think you need a repeat.”

Spiderman just… looks at him, for a second. Then he kneels down beside the tub, and reaches behind his head - and Eddie hears the unmistakable sound of peeling velcro. “Spiderman, no. You don’t have to show me who you are.”

Spiderman pauses for a second, the mask rolled up past his mouth enough for Eddie to see his smile. “I already did. But so did you, so really, there’s no surprises left.”

The webbed mask falls to the floor, revealing a face framed by a tousled mullet and a strong jaw, soft brown eyes focused completely on Eddie. “Hi,” Spiderman says softly. “My name’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie nearly cries. Instead, he reaches for the seam of his own mask, blood flaking off as he peels it open, and drops it in the bathtub next to him.

Steve doesn’t look at him with disgust, or pity - his face is pure empathy, with maybe a touch of wonder, and Eddie thinks, fuck . “Hi yourself. I’m Eddie Munson.”

[usergreenpixel]

MALMAISON MEDIA SALON SOIRÉE 1: THE PURPLE MASK (1955)

1. The Introduction

Greetings, dearest Neighbors, and welcome to the first soirée held within the walls of Malmaison Media Salon.

Now, I wish to preface this review with the fact that, as of now at least, I’m not officially a part of the Napoleonic community. Rather, I am a friendly ambassador from the neighboring French Revolution community, yet I am more than willing to learn about your era so any factual additions are more than welcomed.

Oh, and while we’re at it, please leave your opinions on the French Revolution at the door right there, with coats and umbrellas. We’re here to talk about a movie, not fight over potentially differing opinions on politics of days past. I hope we can have a civil conversation without bickering like that as pissing off your community is about the last thing I wish to do.

Anyway, with all that out of the way, allow me to commence our little soirée. “The Purple Mask”, directed by H. Bruce Humberstone and released in 1955, became a blip on my radar entirely by accident.

I have made posts explaining how, but for those who haven’t seen them, I make reviews for my own community and I was scrolling through IMDb the other day in hopes of finding more Frev movies for future reviews. But, along with Frev movies, pieces of Napoleonic media appeared on the list, which is not that surprising from the chronological and historical prospective.

What WAS surprising to me was this particular movie, as its premise reeks of awfully familiar and repetitive anglophone propaganda more than sulfur smells of rotten eggs. I didn’t even have to have profound knowledge of the Napoleonic era to spot anglophone propaganda, as my own community fights it on a daily basis.

So, as with all things that have to do with smearing campaigns against particular time periods, I got morbidly curious and decided to see for myself how bad this movie really is.

Believe me, Neighbors, it gets pretty bad so I highly recommend you strap in, enjoy tea and cookies and listen carefully so you know what media to avoid.

Let our first soirée begin!

2. The Summary

Has anyone here ever read/seen “The Scarlet Pimpernel”?

Both the original novel and its multiple adaptations are quite known and very infamous in my community for being full of bullshit English propaganda, but the premise is that there’s this hero called The Scarlet Pimpernel whose face hasn’t been seen by anyone.

He rescues nobles from the guillotine in order to transport them to England, leaves calling cards, always has a plan, is persecuted by a persistent cartoonishly evil and dumb arch nemesis, never ever loses and masquerades as a boring noble English fop called Percy Blakeney by day.

Now let’s see what the premise of “The Purple Mask” has to say.

The screenshot is of the movie’s IMDb page as I had a feeling it sums up everything we need to know better than my own words could ever hope to do.

Notice any similarities between this movie and The Scarlet Pimpernel? I’m sure that you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to spot the fact that the former is almost a carbon copy of the latter, with minor tweaks along the way.

That said, there’s nothing inherently wrong with having similar premises as long as the creators make the story theirs and are honest about taking inspiration from the predecessor if such inspiration is indeed taken during the creative process.

But does this movie show enough originality and honesty to be saved from the label of a boring copycat? Let’s have a closer look at its various elements in order to find that out.

3. The Story

Here’s a confession for everyone who doesn’t know this about me already: I LOVE me a good swashbuckling story and reading books of that genre is something I was fond of doing as a child. I’d be lying if I said that I outgrew my swashbuckling phase so I did have some hopes that this movie would at least be good on its own, as a swashbuckling adventure that one simply has to watch with their brain turned on and be aware of its historical inaccuracies.

Sadly, my hopes were doomed to end very soon.

One thing I will give to the plot is the fact that, at least in the beginning, things seemed to be heading in an interesting direction, what with a group of royalists (who used to be nobles before Frev) planning to overthrow Naps and restore monarchy in France. And their plan to throw Naps off the trail of the mysterious Purple Mask by using a decoy impersonator so that the real Purple Mask stays unharmed does have merit.

In this universe nobody knows what exactly PM looks like so a decoy doesn’t have to even resemble the real deal in appearance, which makes the job that much easier. People in real life have faked their deaths to avoid actually meeting The Grim Reaper so it did sound like a decent plan to me.

But the problem is that the movie hits too many points that Pimpernel hit beforehand which made it boring and so predictable that my interest got shot and killed on the spot.

(Spoilers ahead!)

I’m by no means a professional author, but having a rich fop moonlight as a superhero is already an extremely boring and obvious cliché. Sure, it was pioneered by the original Pimpernel, but I really doubt that it was just as original in 1955, given the popularity of the novel and the fact that even Batman is based on that same archetype. Considering that, I really wish the writers didn’t repeat the same old plot point again.

Of course the real hero pretends to be a stupid dandy and of course he will win, get the girl (Laurette in this case) and outwit everyone! Many people have seen the story before, so is it too much to ask to subvert expectations at least once?

Another issue I have is that the villains here seem to suffer from classic villain stupidity, like in a scene where PM has a sword duel with Rochet, the Minister of Police, in front of guards armed with swords and muskets of their own yet NONE of the guards just shoots him on the spot to get it done with! Come on, guys!

This kind of stupidity just...it kills suspense, pisses off me personally and makes it a bit too obvious who will win, which is one of the fastest way to make your audience bored.

But enough about the story, let’s talk about the characters and see if they can become a saving grace for this “masterpiece”.

4. The Characters

(Spoilers ahead!)

The main character, René, aka the decoy PM, aka secretly the real PM, masquerades as a classic witty fop but in reality is PM - witty, brave, smart (unlike the villains) and an ardent royalist. Also a womanizer.

So yeah, he pretty much plays the old trope to a T and, unfortunately, never gets proper character development. Aside from one throwaway line that his father’s execution during Frev is what prompted him to adopt his alter ego, we never learn much about him, which doesn’t give us that many reasons to root for him.

His father was killed. Okay, and how did it affect him aside from his decision? Does he have other motives? Is he fully devoted to the cause or does he have an agenda? Has he always been a royalist or maybe switched after his father’s execution? All these questions are left unanswered. All the potential for creating a compelling character goes to waste. Truly a shame...

Laurette, believe it or not, actually gets more character development here than most female leads at the time. She wants to save her father. This is her motivation and we’re actually shown her worry and her actions that are taken to achieve her goal so her character motivation works much better than René’s.

I still didn’t like the plot point of her loving PM but not knowing that he has been beside her the entire time until it’s spelled out to her by a different character though, as this is a bit too reminiscent of the Pimpernel’s female lead, Marguerite.

(Spoilers ahead!)

Napoleon, the First Consul, is the main antagonist and the ONLY historical character in the movie. And he pretty much plays the role of a classic Bond movie villain, sitting in his lair, barking orders and yelling at his minions for failing.

He is also incredibly stupid here, as he lets the heroes escape to England in the end, which was their plan all along so he practically enables the conspiracy to continue! 100 IQ move right there, Naps... But hey, at least he is portrayed as having some sense of honor and keeping promises, so props for not making him a complete monster.

Rochet, the main antagonist and the Minister of Police (Where the fuck is Fouché, guys?!) is pretty much a classic dumb cartoonish villain who will definitely lose in the end. Not much else to say about him, to be very honest.

Basically he is the resident knockoff Citizen Chauvelin from The Scarlet Pimpernel. Nothing new here.

5. The Acting

Not bad, actually. Especially when it comes to the leads. They did what they could with the characters they were given so credit where credit is due. At least the actors here do their best.

6. The Setting

The settings aren’t particularly elaborate (I assume the budget wasn’t too high) but actually it wasn’t bad either. The decorations, the clothes, etc seem pretty accurate to me so kudos.

7. The Conclusion

Overall, not a terrible movie by any means but its anglophone propaganda and the fact that it’s basically a Scarlet Pimpernel knockoff with almost zero originality just makes it boringly meh.

The authors clearly didn’t care enough to insert other real people like Fouché or Talleyrand (both of whom would be good villains) instead of their dumb OC villains or at least come up with a story that’s not boring, which really shows.

Please skip this movie unless you really want to waste your time.

Well, that would be all for our first soirée, my dearest Neighbors. I hope you like my first ever review of a piece of Napoleonic media and more reviews might come your way pretty soon.

Stay tuned and stay safe!

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. two.

one < current > three

Jan. 2017

Two months have passed since Yuta’s first day. You were able to convince Satoru that, because he shared the similar disadvantage of not having an inherent technique, you should control his training. Maki was still his primary partner when it came to afternoon sparring. But he was your partner in the mornings.

Every morning, the two of you would focus on a different part of the body or a different form of exercise. You spotted him in the weight room, you logged his mile times, and, most importantly, you became his friend. Over before-dawn laps and cool-down stretches, you got to know Yuta and Rika.

For the first month, Rika stayed as an intangible ball of energy hovering around Yuta. Then, slowly, she began to manifest a form. Only for a minute at a time initially, but with time, she would appear for the entire session. Rika would hover a few feet above the weight bench or make flower crowns from the wildflowers that grew around your preferred trail. Yuta seemed just as surprised as you when she placed one on your head after a week of her practicing making them. She explained how she wanted to make something just as pretty as you, with all the innocence of a child. You had thanked her with watery eyes.

But with all the peace that came after settling into a new routine with Yuta joining your class, something was bound to ruin it. This time it was a required meeting between the big three clans. The invitation that arrived specifically asked for both you and your brother’s presence. Satoru tried to squirm out of it saying, “They didn’t say which brother had to attend,” but Megumi's unimpressed look and point at the name Gojo sprawled across the top ended that excuse.

Which lead to where you are now, dragging your human classmates through the Ginza streets to collect a custom gown. Maki grumbled all morning, but you were finally able to shut her up with a promise of buying everyone coffee, lunch and take-out dinner. Inumaki was content with any excuse to go into the city (even if it meant he had to carry your bags) and Yuta didn’t have the nerve to reject your offer when you smiled so hopefully. Though, he was curious after the employee of the shop greeted you like an old friend. “Why do you need such a fancy dress?”

“I don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “I have, or had, several custom ones already. I donate almost all my clothes after wearing them to these events. These meetings, when me and Nii-chan are both requested, are used as an excuse to find ways to undermine the political status of Gojo’s. Nii-chan did not force me into years of tutoring on sorcerer history and politics for me to get clowned about wearing the same outfit as last time.”

Maki adds, “The Zen’ins and Kamos are the standard for sleazy shamans. Not every sorcerer is as nice as us.” Yuta nods hesitantly, which makes you snort.

“I know us kicking your ass constantly may not seem ‘nice,’ but trust me when I say I’d rather be getting tossed around by Maki or Panda than attending this dinner.”

“Bonito flakes.” You can tell Inumaki is pouting behind his face mask.

“C’mon, Toge-chan,” you draw out the ‘-chan’ and grab his free hand to swing it back-and-forth. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a good thing to not be grouped with Maki! She’s such a meanie when it comes to training.” Maki moves too fast for you to dodge her punch. Yuta laughs under his breath at your group’s antics. “Anyways, the most exciting part of this dinner will be seeing what Kamo schmuck they dig up to try to convince Satoru to marry me off.”

“They’re still on that?” Maki laughs and throws her arm over your shoulder. “You would think they’d catch the hint after you stopped wearing furisodes.”

“Salted fish roe,” Inumaki offers.

You sigh, “I would, but you know they wouldn’t treat you well. Escorting me would just mean you get to deal with their passive aggressive comments too.”

“What if I escort you?”

Your group stops walking in the middle of the crowded streets. People continue to push past, but the three of you continue to stare dumbfounded at Yuta. “Is it that bad of an idea?” He flushes bright red and turns his head to stare at the ground.

“No, no,” you reassure as you get the group moving again. “It’s just… well, you remember how we reacted when you came into the class initially, yeah? While they would make fun of Toge-kun, the people at this meeting would try to kill you without hesitation. There’s no guarantee even Rika could stop the full force of everyone in both the Zen’in and Kamo clans.”

Yuta gives a small, “Oh.” He continues to stare at the ground.

“Seriously, I would love to have an escort, especially if it was either of you. There’s only so much of clan politics I can take alone. But I’d never ask you or Toge to go through that for me.” You move from in between Maki and Inumaki to bump against Yuta. “Like, these people are the ultimate bullies. I want you to deal with them only when absolutely necessary.” He finally seems to cheer up some and you take the moment to grab his hand, tugging him forward. “Now c’mon! The bakery Nii-chan got those pastries from last week is only a few blocks away!”

The day of the meeting arrives without much fanfare. Satoru took Megumi out on a mission in the morning to exorcise some low-level curse and you were left at the school to start what would be a long day of preparations. You shuffle into the common area and begin making a cup of coffee. It isn’t until you turn to get creamer from the fridge you realize Yuta, Inumaki and Panda are eating breakfast in the same room. You flush, suddenly aware that you didn’t grab any sweatpants when you left your room and you had slept in a stolen pair of Satoru’s boxers. “Please tell me I’m still asleep,” you mutter, shutting your eyes and whipping back around to finish preparing your coffee.

Panda falls over laughing. Inumaki gives a loud whistle. Yuta is redder than you are and has his face almost flat against his rice. Of course, to add to your humiliation, Hakari and Maki come in from training.

“(y/n), I was never here and I never saw you,” Hakari throws his hand over his eyes and immediately turns to run towards his dorm room.

“You know, I don’t see why you don’t just attend dinner in this outfit,” Panda says.

“Of course you don’t, you literally don’t wear clothes. At least Hakari is smart enough to have some shame and not ogle at her.” Maki moves forward to steal a sip from your cup and gags, “God, how much sugar is in this thing?”

You pout, “The appropriate amount to get me through today. I need to borrow one of your thigh holsters, by the way. Nii-chan doesn’t want me to have to use his technique if something happens.”

“Nori?” The three jerks finally stop laughing, though Panda still seems particularly delighted at your embarrassment.

“Mm, I don’t think so. But some elders got pushy when I was sent to the last meeting and not my brother. Satoru wants me to be able to scare them, not maim them.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki still seems hesitant, but you and Maki move onto a different topic easily as you two walk to her room.

Yuta watches until he’s sure neither of you will hear him ask, “Will she really be okay?”

Inumaki, despite seeming hesitant before, gives a stronger, “Salmon.” He gestures for Yuta to pick up his phone (the boy has gotten better at understanding Inumaki, but wasn’t able to have a conversation yet) and sends a message in a group chat appropriately named Da Bois while Panda grumbles about how unfair it is that he has paws and can’t use a phone.

osamu: (y/n)ie is smiley but she’d kill someone if they tried anything lol

fushiguro: what did the idiot do

fushiguro: who is osamu

osamu: ofc u don’t know hq

fushiguro: what’s that supposed to mean

creepy-kun: when did you change my name >:(

Yuta pouts about the name change for the rest of the day and avoids his phone to keep from Inumaki’s teasing. He almost misses the photo you send in JJH Thots.

It’s you and your brother pressed cheek-to-cheek and making faces at the camera. Satoru has on his circular sunglasses instead of a blindfold, even though it’s clearly night in the photo. His bright, blue eyes peek over their edge, his smile wide, and he has one hand throwing a peace sign and the other on your side. Your mouth is tugged back into a snarl, but Yuta can see how a smile is starting to break through and your eyes are lit up. Both of your hands form claws, like you were a second away from jumping through the phone screen and pinning the viewer.

the good gojo: time to annoy some bastards!!

maki: tell naobito he’s a bitch

fushiguro: ^

osamu: you!! look!!! hot!!!!

the good gojo: the way satoru thought that was for him

the good gojo: it’s delusion luv

Yuta has seen the two of you in almost this exact pose in person. But you weren’t dressed like that, with the slightest hint of the black leather holster you wore peeking out from underneath soft layers of tulle. Even his usual carefree teacher is in Western formal wear, with a tie that matches the floral print on your dress. Yuta knew you had bickered over who got to pick and who had to match. He almost couldn’t imagine the people in the picture wrestling like the two of you had. Together, you two are blindingly beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

Yuta covered his face with his pillow and screamed.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

[tothemeadow]

THE REQUEST ARE OPEN AGAINN!! AHHHH CONTINUATION OF PILLAR BODY SWAP THANKYOUUUU

‘switch ‘em up pt. 4′ / Pillars x Reader (now with the Kamaboko Squad!)

warnings: none

words: 2,243

(a/n): I just wanna thank the lovely anon that gave me the idea to this plotline; it helped a lot!

-

for reference: Giyuu/Shinobu | Gyomei/Mitsuri | Obanai/Tengen | Sanemi/Muichiro | Kyojuro/you

-

“I’m not sure I understand entirely,” Tanjiro confesses, his eyebrows furrowing. “So you’re looking for some special type of herb?”

“Precisely,” Shinobu says.

Overhead, birds chirp and flood the skies, hopping from branch to branch and competing each other with their harmonies. A delicate breeze sweeps through the area, carrying loose leaves and the crisp smell of nature. On any other day, you’d love to come back; however, considering the circumstances, you’d rather not be here.

After much discussion on what should be done to return everyone to their normal bodies, Shinobu voiced an idea that may work – finding a special herb and using its medicinal properties. It’s a bit of a longshot, but it’s not like anyone else has any other better idea. And whether the others voiced it or not, everyone is secretly wishing that this magical plant will bring a miracle.

As such, you and the rest of the Pillars take the trip to Mount Sagiri; Tanjiro insisted he tag along since he knows the area well, plus he wanted to help. Of course, this meant traveling with his two friends, Zenitsu and Inosuke. Truthfully, it’s quite a crowd you’re traveling with, but it should prove to be useful to have extra eyes searching for the herb.

“Giyuu knows this area as well, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find it!” Tanjiro chirps, looking to his friend. Although Giyuu is still stuck inside Shinobu’s body, he looks away, a light blush dusting his face. “Plus, Urokodaki-san should be able to help us!”

“Wait, that old man who used to be the Water Pillar?” Tengen questions.

“Don’t disrespect him,” Giyuu abruptly snaps. The muscle in his jaw ticks. “That is all I ask.”

At that, Tengen lets out a drawn-out whistle. “Damn, alright. Don’t tear my head off, waterworks.”

“Waterworks? What kind of name is that?” Sanemi speaks up. “I think you’ve been inside of Obanai for too long, Tengen. Your insults are starting to turn lame.”

“Fuck you,” Obanai mutters.

“It’s not my fault Obanai doesn’t possess a flamboyant sense of humor!”

With a sigh, you watch on as Tengen, Sanemi, and Obanai start bickering. Frankly, you don’t know why they’re even putting in the effort. Everyone is stuck in a situation that they don’t like, so what’s the point?

Beside you, Zenitsu wrings his hands, an uneasy expression crossing his features. “Uh… Kyojuro? Wait, wait, sorry – (y/n)?” You hum in response. “Are all the Pillars this… tense? Like, normally?”

“Heh. Well, not really. Sanemi’s always got a stick up his ass, and Obanai’s just naturally edgy like that,” you tell him. As you look to him, it strikes you as odd to have to look down at him. You’ve otherwise grown used to the height difference, but it still takes you aback sometimes.

Zenitsu snickers. His unease melts away, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “When you put it that way, it sounds just like that moron Inosuke.”

“Oi! Who the fuck are you calling a moron?!” Inosuke barks.

Quirking an eyebrow, Zenitsu shoots you a bored look. “See what I mean?”

“We’re here!” Tanjiro exclaims.

Having been distracted from the short conversation with Zenitsu, you’ve completely ignored your surroundings. Cursing yourself internally for being so careless, you look ahead, taking in the sight of a small home with an even smaller garden next to it. So this must be Urokodaki’s home, huh? How quaint.

“This doesn’t really look like much,” Muichiro voices. Shifting his attention to Giyuu, he cocks his head. “So this is where you were trained?”

Giyuu nods stiffly. The look on his face – Shinobu’s face – is, well, vulnerable. You haven’t seen him show so much emotion before, and it’s a bit startling. If you’re being entirely honest, it looks as though he’s ready to throw up everything that’s inside his gut.

“It’s just as I remember!” Tanjiro chirps. “It’s nice up here, don’t you think? The air gets thinner from here on up, so please be careful when scaling the mountain.”

As if on cue, the door to the house slides open, revealing an elderly man with a tengu mask adorning his face. The air about him demands respect; it’s more than obvious that this very man was a Pillar, and a strong one at that. You watch on as Tanjiro and Giyuu step up towards the house before dropping into respectful bows. Tanjiro’s movements are much more fluid, more comfortable. Giyuu’s are more… wooden.

“Tanjiro, my boy!” Urokodaki greets. Ushering Tanjiro closer, he greets the young man with a hug. “…Who’s this fine lady with you?”

Tengen laughs.

“Urokodaki-san, it’s me,” Giyuu grumbles. “Giyuu…”

Although you can’t see Urokodaki’s face, you have a pretty good idea of what it’s like. The man falls silent, glances from him to Tanjiro, then he scans over the group behind him. Sure, you can’t blame him for being skeptical; a random swarm of people showing up to your house unexpectedly is bound to raise some questions. However, these are all Pillars he’s dealing with. This isn’t something to take lightly.

“Urokodaki-san,” Tanjiro begins, “we need your help. We’re not entirely sure how, but all the Pillars switched bodies with each other. It’s been like this for a number of days now, and we don’t know how long it’s supposed to last.”

After another moment or so of silence, Urokodaki sighs and crosses his arms. “Listen, kid, that seems a bit… much, don’t you think?”

“It might be some sort of Blood Art!” Tanjiro rushes. “Please, Urokodaki-san!”

Again, another sigh. “So everyone is in another body than their own? Haven’t heard of an ability like that before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Nodding in Shinobu’s direction, he says, “So, that’s Giyuu’s body, but it isn’t him?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Shinobu tells him. “Believe me when I say I don’t want to be in Giyuu-san’s body more than I have to.”

“Ehhh?! What’s with all the talking!” Inosuke bursts. “You guys said you wanted to find a plant, not talk to some old coot!”

“Inosuke!” Tanjiro scolds, but he’s too late. In a blink of an eye, Giyuu practically materializes right before Inosuke, his fist colliding with Inosuke’s gut. There’s a loud groan of pain as Inosuke drops to the ground, his hands clutching onto his stomach. To the side, both Zenitsu and Tengen break out into fits of laughter.

“I told you not to disrespect him,” Giyuu grunts.

“Ohoho!” Kyojuro booms, just as loud as always. At this rate, he’s going to blow out your vocal cords before you can get them back. “How loyal, Giyuu! I’m impressed!”

Rolling your eyes, you break away from the group, opting to join Tanjiro. “Urokodaki-san,” you greet, giving a polite bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Listen, I know this is a complicated situation, but we really need to find this plant. It’s crucial that we do.”

Urokodaki hums. “I know you – you’re Rengoku Shinjuro’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Well, technically – but I’m not Kyojuro. I’m (l/n) (y/n), the Wild Pillar.”

“You’re not? Figures. This whole “switched body” conundrum is making my brain work in ways it hasn’t worked in years.” Urokodaki waves a dismissive hand at you. “Whatever. If all of you are willing to look for such a plant, feel free to scale the mountain to your heart’s content. I’ll get dinner started.”

“Thank you so much!” Tanjiro chirps. After Urokodaki slides the door shut behind him, the two of you turn back to the others, smiles plastered on both of your faces. “Everyone – it’s time! Let’s turn you all back to normal!”

-

After hours of searching, no one has come up with anything. Granted, a vast variety of edible plants line the mountain – all of them useful in one way or another – but it’s not the dreaded silva you’re looking for. Shinobu said it was vine-like, with delicate leaves shaped like bells. The only you found worth of any interest was watching Inosuke eat almost every mushroom he could find and crack open acorns like they were nothing.

Soon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of peach and berry. The view was simply breathtaking, and you had to stop to take it in for a few moments.

“It’s always been like that,” Giyuu says quietly. Stopping next to you, he gazes at the setting sun, a wistful gleam in his eyes. “Most of the time, we were too busy training to watch it, though.”

Now that you think about it, Giyuu has been acting weird ever since arriving. Call it intuition, but you’re almost positive that he was feeling guilty about something. And he said we instead of I, so that only confirms your suspicion. Glancing around, you imagine a younger Giyuu descending the mountain, panting like crazy in the thin air, narrowly avoiding the numerous traps Urokodaki set up. If he experienced anything like the pain roaring in your back and sides right now, you’re amazed he dared to set foot back on this very mountain.

“Thinking back to simpler times, huh?” you ask, voice soft.

Giyuu scoffs. “The training was far from simple, but yeah. Things were a lot more different then.”

As if acting on its own, your arm slings itself around Giyuu, tugging him closer and holding him against your body. With him in Shinobu’s body, he’s so small, his head nestled against your chest. At first, he tenses up, but then slowly relaxes in your hold. Ever since switching bodies, you’ve noticed Kyojuro’s personality starting to bleed into yours. Hell, even his body is trying to one up you.

“I miss him,” Giyuu whispers.

Your heart drops to your stomach at his tone. “…Who?”

“Oi! Are you two just gonna stand there or are you coming back down?” Sanemi snaps.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you pull away, but you keep a hand on Giyuu’s forearm. “You’re helping me down, got it? This mountain gives me the creeps and I don’t want to get rammed by another damned log. Seriously – how did Urokodaki-san even set them up?”

Despite the saddened glint in his eyes, Giyuu manages to crack a smile.

-

The inside of Urokodaki’s house is cramped, but it’s also very homely. Scattered around the living area, each person more or less sticks to themselves, too much in pain to engage in lively conversation. Shinobu treats to the wounds, making sure bones are intact and intestines didn’t take too much of a beating. The only ones completely unaffected are Tanjiro and Giyuu, but that much is obvious.

“So what now?” Mitsuri asks. Still in Gyomei’s colossal body, she’s probably one of the Pillars that’s had the most trouble adjusting to her new form. “We’re not going to give up looking, are we?”

“I didn’t think it was this rare,” Shinobu admits. “Perhaps we were looking at the wrong spots on the mountain? It’s possible.”

“Take a breather before springing back into motion,” Urokodaki says. Sitting before the hearth, he absentmindedly prepares some tea. “Think, plan, then go about your business. A mindless game of hide and seek isn’t going to produce any results.

“Mmph! Mmph!” Nezuko agrees (or you think so, anyway). You’ve only met her a handful of times outside of her box, but you enjoy her company very much.

“Wait,” Shinobu suddenly says, snapping upright. “Urokodaki-san, what’s that you’re grinding up right now?”

Setting down his mortar and pestle, Urokodaki busies his hands with plucking apart wildflowers. “It’s silva. It grows right out here in my garden.”

At that, Shinobu’s draw drops. “By the gods-“ She facepalms, then, and groans. “That’s the herb we were looking for! You’re telling me that it’s been down here the entire time?!”

“Why didn’t you say what you were looking for?” Urokodaki says. “Could’ve saved a lot of time.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sanemi curses.

“That wasn’t very flamboyant of you,” Tengen chimes in. “I agree with Sanemi – this is bullshit.”

Urokodaki shrugs. “And how is that my fault? You’re all Pillars, are you not? Shame on you for being unobservant.”

“Urokodaki-san, please,” Tanjiro says.

“Alright, alright, fine.” In a couple of minutes, he prepares the tea as planned and pours it into a number of ceramic cups. “Since you’re all on my ass about it, drink up.”

“Uh, should we really be drinking this…?” Zenitsu squeaks, staring down at his own cup.

“Stop being a pussy!” Inosuke cackles. Tipping his head back, he downs his tea in one go.

Everyone more or less follows suit, taking sips of their own tea. As you set your own cup down, you feel the beginning of a warm, pleasant sensation in your lower tummy.

“Hey, Shinobu?” Tanjiro asks. “Is the herb supposed to make you feel sleepy?” At his words, Nezuko slumps to the floor. One by one, all the others drop like flies, yourself included.

Some time passes before your eyes crack back open. The inside of Urokodaki’s house is dark; from the crickets chirping and an owl hooting nearby, you quickly realize that it’s nighttime, and it’s probably late. With a groan, you sit up, dragging a hand across your face in the process. Wait… that’s not your hand, and it’s not Kyojuro’s either. Squinting through the darkness, you’re able to make out slight details, but it’s enough to make your heart sink. The herb didn’t work.

You’re in Giyuu’s body instead.

[griefdestined]

ofkryze asked: "scar"

          It’s a rare moment that it’s just the two of them. It seems like the past few days has been non stop politics and planning; Obi-Wan and Satine running around like crazy to figure out what’s going on with the Death Watch. The two notice that it’s just them at the same time. The guards have stepped back at the entrance but they’re not right behind them hovering. The tension between then turns taut in the air. Despite the bickering and arguments between Satine and Obi-Wan the two still care deeply for one another - and it has been a long time since it’s been just the two of them. 

He’s no stranger to being scrutinized by his looks. Many people seem to underestimate him because of his young age, one of the reasons that he grew his beard out. It made him look more distinguished on top of easing into the role of Master. Like a change of identity once he had to regard himself as Anakin’s Master rather than Qui-Gon’s Padawan. Obi-Wan gives her a moment to simply look him over as she does the same. 

          A pale delicate hand comes up to his neck. The collar of his under tunic is pushed aside as she traces over the small lightning like scars that adorn his neck. They’re so miniscule and light that one wouldn’t see them unless they really were paying attention to them...or already knew they were there. Obi-Wan can’t read her right now, her expression is schooled into an expressionless mask. There was once a time - when they were much younger, scared, not worn down by politics and war that they were able to read each other like a book. But that time has passed.

Obi-Wan’s hand covers her wrist in an attempt to console her. The scars were gained from a shock collar when he was kidnapped by bounty hunters protecting her all those years ago. It seems she never quite got over the guilt for being the reason of their existence. 

          “Just the beginning of many, my dear. Don’t worry, they don’t hurt.”

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Shameless self promotion ahead- why? Because i have nothing else but soukoku brain-rot rn (yes, I'm working on the stack of request for my personality HC thing- but some of ya'll gave so little information it be hard T_T)

-Bsd college Au- (It's soukoku)

Dazai’s confident, independent, smart, but a total jerk and playboy

.Chuuya's confident, independent, slightly idiotic, but a total pushover.

Dazai’s unorganized, calm, and enjoys making his roommate's life hell.

Chuuya’s organized, irritable, and hates his roommate with his entire soul.

Sadly, Dazai finds his roommate appealing to the eye, in other words hot, but he’s still… a closeted bisexual.

Sadly, Chuuya finds his roommate hot, but his roommate insists they’re straight.

Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu are roommates.

Chapter 1: Roommates With every rustle of the leaves, a brisk wind passed over, chilling the humidity to be bearable for a moment. Yokohama tended to have warm summers, even towards the end there were days when the humidity stung. It could be cold enough for a hoodie in the early morning, but far too humid for one in the later afternoon, right before it cooled down again. The signs that lead into the sweet release of the cool fall season.

“You know, I said I was helping, not doing most of the work here.” Oda, a male with slight stubble and brown, slightly red hair grumbled. His eyes looked back to another male, arms wrapped in bandages, and eyes drained of any emotion. The smallest cardboard box within his hands as he snickered.

The boy was Dazai Osamu, an 18-year-old who’d pushed through hell to make it here. Despite not wanting to go to college and instead be a basement dump until he died, he stuck his tongue out.

Within that exact second, Dazai's eyes filled with life, something that he could do on command, a mask of sorts. “But Odasaku, I can’t carry all the heavy boxes!” the childish whine Dazai produced towards his cousin scraped within the poor adult's ears.

“If you ate anything besides ramen and take-out, you might be more than skin and bones,” Oda grumbled. Setting the final box down in the dorm room. So far there hadn’t been a sign of whoever Dazai’s roommate was to be. Oda prayed for the unfortunate soul who had to deal with the brunette.

“I don’t only eat ramen! I ate vegetables just yesterday!” Dazai crossed his arms, laying his finger over his bandages.

“The ‘vegetables’- Oda moved his hands to form air quotes around vegetables - in those 10-minute self serve ramen packets don’t actually count.'' Frowning Dazai pouted, acting like a child once again. It was something Oda had never minded considering his cousin had never had a real childhood.

Before he could make another whiny remark, the door to the dorm opened.

~

Stepping from a rather expensive-looking car, a ginger-haired male stepped outside into the warmth of the closing summer. His hair, longer on one side than the other, rested neatly over his shoulder. His feminine-like frame caused him to stand out a bit more than he’d like. Though, it was natural for a model to stand out in the crowd. Not that he modeled too often, it had been a pastime after moving in his third year to Yokohama. He’d done it with his older sister a handful of times before then, but she’d left for London just before they moved.

Grabbing one of the cases, he glanced at his father, who was getting out of the car. “Dad, I can handle this myself, you really don’t have to help me.” The petite male mumbled slightly embarrassed. Though, his words were the truth considering his strength was out of the ordinary for his size.

“Nonsense Chuuya, let you old man at least have this.” The boy's father, a male who kept his locks of raven hair down to his waist in length, shivered as he spoke.

Chuuya sighed, handing his father a few smaller boxes as he grabbed several of the larger boxes. “How’s Ane-San been?” Chuuya hadn't been able to call her with how busy he’d been the last month, he suspected his father, with how protective he was, had to have called at least once.

“Ah, Koyo has been doing alright. Both she and Yosano (Koyo's fiance) plan on coming down for Christmas.” Rimbaud smiled lightly as he spoke. Chuuya’s lips also turned into a smile hearing that he’d finally met his older sister's fiance. The two of them had been engaged since she’d graduated from college two years ago, and had been together for 5 years before that. “So when will you be attempting dating again? I do miss that boy… it was Shirace right?”

As his father mentioned the boy's name, Chuuya's stomach tightened and his heart picked up before he calmed himself. The two of them were cities apart, he’d never see that boy again. Shaking off the thoughts that had flashed within his mind, he smiled. “It wasn’t meant to be dad. Regarding another boyfriend, I don’t know. I know Ane-San dated a lot, I'm just not sure I want to get back into dating yet.” Chuuya shrugged as they came up to his assigned dorm. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it and opened it, coming face to face with his roommate looking like he was about to start a childish bicker with whoever that was.

“Hey…” Chuuya’s attempt at speaking was completely suffocated when Dazai turned to look at his roommate. God, he was more than just good-looking. Sure Dazai was on the frail and thin-looking side, but he still looked perfect. The shape of his jaw, to the depth of the brunette's coffee-colored eyes, all added to his looks. That was also looking past the males' ideal height. He was positive, the brunette noticed he was being checked out.

“He’s so… so short.” Dazai snickered as he looked Chuuya up and down. His eyes glanced all around looking for little things to poke fun at. At least, that’s what he was saying he was doing. There was no way he was checking Chuuya out. Sure, he did resemble a girl, at least a little bit. His eyes were a replica of the clear ocean. The way his hair curled around his face, the small freckles that stood against his pale complexion… were all attractive.

At least, it had been until the male’s brow twitched and his hands balled into fists. “I’m still growing!” he hissed almost like an angry child. Rimbaud sighed, tapping his son's shoulder.

Oda looked to him apologetically before turning to Dazai. “That’s the first thing you can say? Not, hey or hello?” Dazai shrugged, walking to his room with a yawn.

“Eh, I’m tired, I wasn't thinking of being polite. Plus, when am I ever polite?” Dazai smirked, leaning his head back as he shoved his hands into his back pockets. Sadly, his statement was nothing less than honest. He was never polite. If he wanted something, he was upfront about it. How else would he have such a long list of girls' hearts he’d shattered?

Chuuya rolled his eyes before moving the rest of his boxes into the dorm. ~

Chuuya took an hour to get everything from the boxes and his suitcase into his closet and drawers. His secret box, which he’d made sure to carry in, was still packed tightly, but that was because he was figuring what to do with it. Luckily, his closet had the perfect space for bottles. Unlucky to him that space was out of his reach. Hissing to himself, he looked around before grabbing the footrest to one of the chairs. When he finished organizing and making sure every drawer was labeled with what should be put inside, he glanced around.

His roommate had yet to unpack anything from his boxes. Not that there seemed to be many boxes to begin with. In fact, they were all labeled, one box of clothes, another labeled self-car, and a third labeled bandages. That had been something he noticed about his roommate. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya moved to knock on his roommate's door. The response he got was grumbled and inaudible. “Are you going to unpack?” there still came no response, so he figured his roommate was simply sleeping after a long trip or something. Shrugging it off, Chuuya walked into his room, directly next to dazai’s with a very thin wall separating them. Pulling out a sketchbook and some pencils, he put on some music and began sketching some art designs.