#but it will have to remain a lil ugly for now

[rose-madder-gaze]

the start of a very long pet project (1/39 episodes transcribed)

[comfortless]

hades! konig and persephone! reader

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. abduction, voyeurism, dubcon, not very explicit smut.

notes: this has been on my mind for an eternity actually thank you sweet anon for finally encouraging me to write it out! if you celebrate, merry christmas! and if not consider this just a lil gift for absolutely no reason apart from for being my first Kö request. 💕

A hollow grows within him the moment his gaze meets hers. A chance crossing whilst collecting a rare offering of fruit laid out just for him. Most mortals wouldn’t beckon his attention, and the gods often left him just as well. He knows better than to take insult and become reckless, though… recklessness comes as easily as breathing when his stare settles on her across the glade. She twirls in silent dance, pirouetting carefully as if to avoid crushing the nature that springs up, brushing against her soles. Her voice picks up in a song when she notes the figure watching her from a distance, her cadence no less beautiful than any choir despite the flighty waver in her tone.

When the nymphs rise up from the stream to listen, he stands transfixed for a moment as they pull her in with them for a more elaborate dance, voices all melding until they break into a chorus of giggles and stories.

It should have been left at that.

She walks an earth made for her; flowers blossoming beneath her bare soles, each root extending for just a chance to brush against tender flesh, a breeze that flits gently against her hair. The daughter of Demeter, something unattainable, too precious to be dirtied by the howling abyss below her feet.

He is tethered to darkness and unknowns, an enigma with dried blood beneath his fingernails; the only songs he hears are screams. He��s since stolen flowers from the meadows she dances in. Beautiful peonies and soft green things that smell sweet. Flowers don’t bloom in the dark, they wither and dry.

Days are spent in melancholic longing, nights his roaring grief melds with the wailing of lost souls. Ugly and tainted noises that he dreams will reach her ears, that she will come to him with her lashes wet with tears, wrap him in her arms and quiet all but her own voice as she tells him that he’s more beautiful than her rivers and her blooms.

Yet, she never does.

König takes it upon himself to walk the land of mortals, teemed with life and pleasures more often now. He pulls himself from below with unnatural fire behind his eyes, a horrible, yearning abyss in place of the feathery, clumsy love that he’s watched so many others allow for themselves.

She notices him while he watches her bathe amongst the nymphs, stood upright and imposing beneath the shade of a tree. Each time, while the nymphs shy away with giggles and hands curled over their breasts, she merely keeps her eyes on him; lips-parted and pulse raging. He knows, would swear by it, that his obsession is not entirely one-sided.

Once, she chooses to wave at him, a demure flick of her wrist while his stare remains fixed upon her. The droplets of water from the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the pebbled nipples there— down, further into the water that envelopes her and sends his mind to flicker, a roaring flame building from his chest to his groin.

All of his frustrations pale and cower at the fantasy that he just may be able to grant himself the liberty of sinking into something writhing and warm from just one, simple gesture.

He knows he’s fucked, because his first thought after the lullaby of attraction subsides is to poke her just a little; prod her and see what makes her cry the hardest, blanket her in the shadow of himself and pick her apart like a vulture to a cadaver, do things to her that no man ever has or should. It’s not right, and he has to force himself to turn away, the fabric of the veil obscuring his face as he slinks back into the dark where he belongs. Away from the untouchable maiden who seems to haunt him endlessly with her teasing.

The giggles and splashes of the nymphs whisper through the air like the chirping of birds. Though, one voice stands out above the rest of the noise, causes him to halt in his tracks.

“Why does he never speak to us?”

Her voice, so sweet, asking about him when she should be speaking of nothing but the beauty surrounding her, the warmth of the sun and never the cold darkness of the moon.

It’s eating away at him, he realizes, when he can no longer satisfy himself. Nights lain in a haze, staring up at blackened walls with his length in hand. All it takes is the memory of wet lashes and a soft smile, usually. Her beauty is enough to bring even him to his knees, yet, he finds himself instead on the brink of hysteria the first night he finds a vision of her is not sufficient enough to reach the brilliant white haze of a climax.

The thought of stealing her away from her world of beauty to drag her down into the dark with him fills him with both elation and a terrible guilt. Zeus himself is no different; the thought shouldn’t warrant a seeping coldness in his veins, nor should it have caused him to spill his seed into his hand with only a mere flick of the pad of his thumb over his tip, yet it accomplishes both. A waste, when it should be buried deep inside of his beloved.

It takes only two nights for him to plot, to have Gaia choose to favor him, and on the third day the Narcissus flower blooms, pretty and golden. It echoes false promises, softness and beauty beyond even the daughter of Demeter’s imaginations. She will hate him, she will. Her very soul will sour the moment she lays her eyes on him next, but eventually… she will come to understand, return his love with a whisper of her own. Lightly, at best, but it would still be more than he had ever known.

He watches the roots of the plant from below, a pinprick of warm light shining down. The thumps of footsteps overhead, shaking down loose soil like raindrops, giggles like crackling thunder. She’s roaming about with her nymphs again, gentle with her and all of her beauty. After watching her for so very long, he’s more than certain they will be braiding the flowers and falling asleep after fits of laughter with the taste of fruit on their tongues. Only, she’s condemned herself by being so predictable. She will fall, not into soft grasses with a woman’s arms thrown over her, but directly into his own. She won’t eat the fruit of the earth, but drink his wine and allow him to lose himself in her flesh, bedded down against the pelts of beasts and blackened out by shadows.

The wait isn’t long. Her voice breaks through the quiet of the earth below her feet, seems to light up even the space between the two of them as her footfalls halt only several paces away.

“Look at this one!,” she calls out.

Several steps follow after her as one of the ladies of the river comes to join her. He imagines the smile on his beloved’s face, the way her body curves as she kneels down to his trap and his fingers twitch in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Maybe not that one, sweet,” the nymph warns. “There are prettier ones by the bank.”

König can feel his jaw tighten, eyelids pausing to narrow up at the small light as he tries, forces himself to believe that this was fated. She wouldn’t turn away— she couldn’t.

“No... just look at it. We’ve not seen one so lovely since last spring.”

“What if someone else planted it for themselves?”

“But… I want it.”

She sounds so pitiful, so gentle, and he can feel that swell of heat curling inside of him again. The urge to simply love her feels all-consuming with each word that passes from her mouth.

The two above giggle to themselves at her mischief, before finally, the roots begin to move from a gentle tug above. In a matter of seconds, the entire plant has been uprooted. For a daughter of nature to not long for its beauty would be unrealistic, yet he still exhales his relief. The earth riots beneath the women’s feet, splintering cracks and loud discordance echo through the valley. The nymph’s shrieks join the disarray as her featherlight footfalls lead her far, far away from what belongs to him: the dark, the rot, and now her.

With so little time to react, she falls headfirst into the abyss, clutching the narcissus tightly between her soft breasts. Waiting arms are raised to the glimpse of sun and beauty to catch her as he pulls her tightly against his chest, tucks her head against a broad shoulder and grasps at her waist. Whatever he had imagined her flesh to feel like paled in comparison to her warmth, the softness that gives with each press of a digit that makes her tense beneath his touch.

She’s crying, shaking, terrified as she weakly raises her head and offers him a smile. It’s the kind of smile that screams savior, and he can’t bring himself to correct her. No one has ever looked at him with such tenderness.

Everything quiets the moment she looks up to him like that, after condemning herself to him as though she knows nothing of men and gods. She looks at him like he’s an angel, in turn he bites his tongue so hard he can feel the pinpricks of blood and soreness blossom from the wound. He knows he isn’t good, but the heavens have got their filth, too.

“Thank you.” She speaks in a whisper as the world above falls back into place, blanketing them both in shadow and the scent of soil and brimstone. Politeness seems unnecessary, now, though he places her gently onto her feet.

He’s far too mesmerized to stop himself from dropping to his knees in front of her and trailing a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing flesh so warm that the very feeling lingers pleasantly against his palm.

If a god couldn’t pluck him from this emptiness and set him on a right path, perhaps a goddess could, as he has always imagined. It’s only confirmed the instant he realizes she isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“I didn’t save you,” he explains calmly.

He’s struck down titans, claimed rulership over the underworld, and yet nothing has made him feel smaller than the fretful look in her eyes as she looks down to him kneeling before her like little more than a common man. As if to provide comfort, selfishly to himself, his massive hands drift higher to rest on her hips still wet with river water and blades of grass clinging to her just as he has longed to do. For what’s felt like an eternity of waiting, of pining, only to have it end with something as simple as a flower.

“I brought you here.”

She’s still beautiful when she cries; a palm is clasped over her mouth, eyes swimming as she trembles in his grip. Of course, she knows what this is about without ever having to ask, yet she still does as if to plead him to tell her that her thoughts are all wrong— that she’s safe and will return to her lovely friends, to her mother that would assuredly be worried sick and furious.

The rise to his feet feels like a mile long stretch, whilst he keeps her caged between the dirty wall and the vast expanse of chest. He shushes her with a gentle tone, wipes her tears away with the ghosting of fingertips before pushing up the veil covering his face to lie claim to her mouth as though his very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. Though he did not fear Demeter, nor his brothers should she call upon them, he feared not having this ethereal, gentle thing at his side. He feared the creep of loneliness that ravaged his bed each night.

She sighs against his mouth, but does not reciprocate. Everything about her is tense and stressed, a wild mare preparing to kick out for the first time. His tongue lolls out to lap against her soft lips, just twice before he forces himself to part from her.

His beloved brushes away stray tears from her cheeks with the meat of her palms, shivering just a little as she tries to force herself to straighten up, appear braver despite the way she teeters on the edge of falling apart so easily before him. The heavy gaze of obsession fixed upon his face turns further predacious when she apologizes for not being able to help herself in response.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she explains, holding out the ruined flower to him in one, shaking hand. She protests in her own way, eternally kind, but it all falls on deaf ears as he brushes the petals from her palm and takes her up into his arms again. With an arm beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped tightly around her middle, he leads her deeper into the underworld.

A mere taste wouldn’t do.

Her protests are nothing more than soft sniffles when he does take her to his bed of pelts, her arm even thrown over his shoulder as her body presses tightly to him. He thinks for only a moment that he could take his time, stop this all before she truly does grow to loathe him, but the descent into the bed only fortifies his resolve; his belief that this gentle woman of the earth, who smells of magnolia and clear waters belonged entirely to him. For now and forevermore.

“You are to be my wife.”

That quiets her for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his once more as he hovers over her, a palm to either side of her head. She has a mind to shyly curl her hand against her chest then, centered between her breasts which rise and fall with each flighty breath. It’s not panic, but more— curiosity, a misleading thing that he takes to be acceptance until she graces him with a mere murmur of her voice again.

“I don’t belong here.”

König knows that she doesn’t belong in a place like this, for all her grace to be lost to the cold, the rot; his kingdom is nothing but a wasteland riddled with the dead and subjects who take up the mantle of cruelty in his stead. The thought of actually allowing her to go instills rage and melancholy so quickly, he curls his fingers into the fur below to keep himself from flinching.

“You will.”

A digit reaches to trail across her bottom lip, tentative, but the need to touch overwhelms him past the point of caring for much else. To his amazement, she still does not push him away.

“How could that be?”

He doesn’t respond.

More than bedding her, a matter more pressing pushes to the forefront of his mind. Though he knows the likelihood of anyone being aware of her disappearance is nonexistent, a mere whisper from the beaks of crows by this time, he would do well to ensure that she wasn’t leaving. Just as every other soul resigned to dwell here with him, she too would remain.

“You’re famished,” he whispers the suggestion as he splays a palm out over her bare abdomen, only backing away enough to allow her a small length of space between them.

Her concerned stare shoots from his palm to his veil in an instant before she weakly nods her head and props herself up on her elbows.

“Quite… yes.”

She allows herself to be pulled into his lap without a fuss, doesn’t make mention of the hardened cock beneath her. His mind is swimming with the fantasies that kept him tame on so many nights without her as he presses his nose against her temple. A shallow intake of breath, and her lips part readily for him as he pushes the sweet pomegranate seed into her mouth, savoring the brush of her tongue against his fingertip. She eats without thought, never knowing how she’s tethered herself to his plane.

There’s an offering of sweet wine followed by a gathering of honeysuckle for her to sip the nectar from as well before he’s convinced she’s pliant enough. Despite the desire raging within him for all of this time, he would not be cruel to her. The thought of hurting this sweet, little dream doesn’t excite him. It’s her love that he wants, not her anguish.

He lies her back with sweet whispers, gentle caresses as he listens to her murmurs in response. She speaks of the stories only small creatures would know; the way the winds change and the rivers flood, the prettiest places she’s been. No fruit has ever tasted sweeter to her than the pomegranate, and nothing has ever filled him with such emotion as the moment he penetrates her.

He speaks to her through it, tries to, whilst he’s overcome with a pleasure that assuredly no other has ever had the blessing of. She affixes herself perfectly to him, clinging to him as he takes her with gentle thrusts. Gritted teeth and barely contained grunts are met with dulcet mewls as her hands reach for his. His heart aches, truly, at the knowledge that she isn’t meant for this place; his kingdom is nothing but suffering, and she belongs beneath the sun in meadows of flowers. His last thrust is deep, reminds him of the places he dares not tread often, the domains of his brothers, pillow soft clouds and a heaven far above, lost to him.

It’s her consoling him when he fills her to bursting with his seed— delicate arms curling around his head, cradling him against her breasts as she silenced the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed. He had damned her, yet her soul had not soured; not all flowers withered in the dark.

The endless night is easier on his beloved after the first. She visits with the other souls and comes to him for comfort when the screams and cries in the darkness become too much to bear. She’s less fragile than he had anticipated when she demands he bring her home, and those demands so often end with little else than König taking her into his arms to lead her elsewhere. The underworld can be beautiful too, when seated upon a throne being hand fed by a man that knows little more than to blanket her in as much softness as he can muster. He tells her of the titanomachy, of the white tree, of anything to keep her entertained. His tongue does not shy from telling her that he loves her, too, often met with a shy glance or a soft giggle. Not outright disdain, and for now it feels enough.

She cries often, in longing for her mother and her friends, though never over this love she had never sought herself. Her loneliness only fuels her need for comfort. Selfishly, he believes that he’s saved the night she willingly wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and falls asleep nestled against his chest.

— — —

With the reliance on mortal offerings and Demeter’s anguish having been brought to light with seasons of failed harvests, it was only a matter of time before she was forced away from him. The months without her feel dreadful and empty, but he doesn’t dare disturb her while she walks the earth at her mother’s side. The agreement was beneficial for all of the gods and goddesses, and he knew better than to tread upon it by rushing to her like little more than a pleading dog. When winter took hold, bathing the lands in its icy touch and withering the plants she cherished and freezing over the rivers her nymphs played in, she would return to him as she must.

Each time is different. His beloved is not simply a thoughtless vessel as many of his subordinates. She is the most incredible thing he’s ever had the joy of meeting.

When she returns in tears, calling to him for his comfort he does not hesitate to kiss them all away and remind her that her summers will return and everything above will be just as it was on the day that he brought her below.

Sometimes, she’s angry, jealous even. She asks him often why he doesn’t come to see her while she’s away. He is her husband, after all. Was there anyone else in which he spent his nights with? Someone fairer than even she? The satisfaction of seating her on his cock, satisfying her as she does him on their shared throne far out rivals even ruling the domain itself. He would do anything to prove to her that she was his only; the sole thing he even thought of whilst her mind was filled with new songs and tales from the nymphs she spent her time away with.

Never has she returned with a gift.

Yet, she stumbles back into his realm clutching a small satchel, dripping with the scent of a juice sweet and familiar. A pleasant smile paints her features as she seats herself next to him on the throne. The bench of marble felt far too vast and dreadful to hold someone so delicate, the sight is something he’s grown accustomed to; emptiness is replaced with familiarity seeing her interact with anything here. It may not be home to her, but something in the way she looks to him— as she always had with tenderness, makes him question if a part of her sees him as home.

“I’ve brought something back for you,” she chimes as she pats her thigh.

Each time was different, but it had never been like this before.

He pulls himself to her side before slumping down to rest his head against her, tracing his fingertips along the length of her leg as his gaze drops almost sheepishly.

“Did you?”

She hums in reply, plucking one of the seeds from the satchel before slipping her hand beneath the veil to feed him. His lips part as he takes in the flavor of the aril, the honeyed taste almost akin to the look in her eyes.

“Just like…” She trails off for a moment as she lowers her head to press a kiss to the cheek of his veiled face. The delicate laugh that follows is unlike any he’s heard from her prior, it’s unique, saved solely for him.

“The six that I fed to you?” He asks her quietly, as he pulls himself away from her to meet her eyes directly. The air around them feels thick, loosely charged with a feeling that he can’t quite place; an intensity that he’s never felt before. Any groaning or wailing off in the abyss is silent now, just quiet words spoken.

Things have always felt warmer since her descent, but he’s learned to not expect anything more than she was willing to give. Still, hope cinches his heart tighter than it ever did prior. Even in battle, slaying his father alongside his brothers, he had never felt his heart race the way it does now.

She nods her head, opening up the satchel just wide enough to reveal the other five arils.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“You should.”

He mulls over that for a moment before the fog finally clears. Any doubt that he had is remedied by a mere two words. He stares at her dumbly, searching her eyes for any hint that this is some horrible, cruel trick; that the implication is something he’s horribly misunderstood.

She couldn’t possibly come to love him… could she?

“To tie you to me,” she says softly.

The smile remains on her face when she closes the distance to kiss him. Not over the veil, but beneath it this time.

Her descent was one of a selfish longing, and his felt as though he was plunging into a world of flowers.

[bookyeom]

pairing: s.coups x reader word count: 4.8k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, people being bad friends and treating reader badly :(, a tiny bit of poor self-esteem on reader's end but not much, seungcheol gets a lil mad at one point but it's nothing crazy

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

pov by ariana grande

i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do

You feel like you’ve been subject to an intervention.

You’d come over to pick up a sweater you’d left at Jeonghan’s, and now you’re sitting on his couch while both him and Soonyoung stare at you, arms crossed. You have the distinct feeling that you’re being judged. 

“You’re here early,” Jeonghan finally says, and you immediately don’t like the tone of his voice. 

“Yeah,” you say, slowly. “Junseok couldn’t make it last minute, so I just came straight here.” You don’t miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, and you inwardly groan in preparation when you realize what’s about to come.

”Wow, he canceled?” Soonyoung says, sarcastic as ever.

“We’re so surprised,” Jeonghan follows, and you roll your eyes. 

“Things happen,” you try, but your friends don’t even flinch. 

“Yeah, they always seem to happen with him in particular, especially when you guys have plans. Poor guy.” 

“Come on. Stop.”

Jeonghan smacks you on the arm, and you yelp. “He’s such a dick, Y/N. Break up with him.”

“We’re not dating! I’ve told you a million times that we’re just friends.”

“Does the fact that you’re just friends justify how he treats you?” Soonyoung asks, and that hits you, hard. Your shoulders slump, and Soonyoung sits next to you on the couch.

“He’s just forgetful,” you murmur, but even as you say the words, you don’t really believe them yourself. 

“Hoshi is the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met,” Jeonghan points out, “and even he remembers plans.”

The man in question appears offended for a brief moment, before quickly brightening up at the end of Jeonghan’s statement. “Yeah,” he nods solemnly in agreement. “I sometimes forget my sentences half way through. If I can remember making plans with my friends, so can he.”

You remain silent. You know they’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“You know who else never cancels on you, at least not without a solid explanation?”

You know where this is going, but you’re definitely going to pretend that you don’t. “Joshua? Seokmin? Love those guys. Truly the most loyal companions and —“

“Seungcheol not only sticks to plans, he also makes them with you first,” Jeonghan continues on, interrupting you, not even batting an eye as he ignores your pouting. 

“And he’d probably rather poke his own eye out than cancel on you,” Hoshi supplies.

“He’s my friend,” you protest weakly. “Do you mean you guys wouldn’t gauge an eye out on my behalf?”

“No,” the two men opposite you answer at the same time, and you sink back into your seat with a huff. 

“DK would,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but — bless his stupid ass — he’d do that for any of us,” Hoshi points out. “Seungcheol, on the other hand, thought it was funny to lock me out of the bathroom when I was hungover and needed to throw up last Saturday morning.” 

“Okay, but Cheol told me that you spilled a bottle of vodka all over his new laptop while you were drunk and tried to cover it up,” you counter. Hoshi opens his mouth to retort, but Jeonghan cuts him off. 

“Last week, he canceled lunch with Mingyu and I just because he didn’t want to get out of bed.”

“He had an exam the night before!” you protest, quickly jumping to Seungcheol’s defense in his absence. “For a really hard class, too! He was telling me about it when he came over to study.” The two men stare back at you pointedly, and you feel your cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan simply smiles, and it unsettles you. “Just that I’ve known Seungcheol for three years and I’ve never, not even once, seen him willingly study with someone else. He always talks about needing to focus alone.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and try valiantly to hide it with your turtleneck sweater. “Maybe you guys are just annoying.”

“Or maybe he’s in love with you,” Soonyoung pipes up, a wide grin on his face, and you let out a whine. 

“Stop,” you plead as the two of them high-five. 

“You and Seungcheol are so annoying. If we’re talking about good ‘friends’,” Jeonghan puts quotation marks in the air around the word as he says it, “he should be at the top of your list. That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.”

”Are you saying you don't care about me?”

You’re trying to change the subject, and Jeonghan knows it. He glares at you. “We care about you enough to try and knock some sense into you, don’t we?”

“I’m leaving,” you announce, pushing yourself off the sofa, sweater in hand. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out as you pass through the threshold. “Can you take this, too?” He appears a second later as you’re tying your shoes, holding out a pair of socks. You raise an eyebrow in question. “They’re Cheol’s,” he explains. “I can almost guarantee you’re going to see him before I do.”

“How do you know that, Jeonghan?” 

“When are you guys hanging out next?”

You squint at your friend for a moment, before you begrudgingly take the socks from his hand. “Tomorrow morning,” you murmur. You pointedly ignore Jeonghan’s laughter as you all but slam the door behind you. 

“How was yesterday?”

“Hm?” You hum through a mouthful of food, glancing back up at Seungcheol. 

You’re sitting across from him at your favourite cafe. It had been silent since your food arrived and you’d both shut up to shovel food into your mouths, so you’re surprised when he speaks up. You also have no idea what he’s referring to.

“You hung out with Junseok last night, right?” Seungcheol asks, and you wince.

“Oh,” you manage. “No, we didn’t end up getting together.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, clicking his tongue as he brings his coffee mug up to his lips. “Asshole.”

“Cheol.”

“What? He’s an asshole.” He sets his coffee down again, elbows on the table as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Did he cancel, or did you?”

You look back down at your food. “He did.”

Seungcheol simply nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the back of the booth. You’re reminded again of just how big his arms have gotten lately, and you try to shake the thoughts before your gaze lingers just a bit too long. “Of course he did.”

“He’s trying,” you mumble miserably, knowing it sounds lame, even to yourself. “He’s getting better at following through.”

The man in front of you raises his eyebrows. “Is he?”

“You’re being a dick.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Why do you even like him?”

“I don’t like him like that anymore,” you mutter. “I haven't for a while. It was a dumb crush, Cheol, you know that. We’re friends now.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m your friend too. And as your friend, I’m telling you – he’s an asshole.”

This time, you don’t offer a rebuttal. You fall silent, pushing the eggs around on your plate. You can feel Seungcheol watching you, and you can practically hear his defenses lowering the longer you stay quiet. Usually, you can keep up with his banter and sass, but you know he can tell that you’re actually upset now. You’re tired of arguing. Deep down, you know he’s right, and you don’t have it in you to meet his gaze.

“Somebody who cares about you wouldn’t do stuff like that, friend or otherwise,” he finally speaks again, his voice softer now. “I know it sucks… but sometimes, it really is that simple.”

“Yeah,” is all you say. 

“Hey.”

You make yourself look at him again, offering him as much of a smile as you can. 

He smiles back, soft. “People care about you, okay?” 

You nod. The longer he looks at you, the more you start to feel that electric current, that low buzzing that seems to take over your entire body whenever Seungcheol is close. Jeonghan’s words linger in the back of your mind as he finally looks away, breaking the tension between the two of you.

That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.

You hate how downright… silly you feel.

”He promised he’d make it this time,” you sniffle, and Seokmin squeezes you tighter into his side. “He even booked the tickets. Why would you book the tickets and then cancel on the day of?”

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jeonghan calls out from his kitchen. 

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Seungcheol agrees. He’s leaning against the doorframe that separates the kitchen from the living room, and you don’t know why it hurts a little that he hasn’t tried to comfort you at all since you walked in. His comment only serves to upset you more, and you glare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Seungcheol blinks in surprise, turning back to you from where he was watching Jeonghan in the kitchen. “What?”

”Are you happy that you’re right? Do you feel good about it, Cheol?” You can feel Seokmin pat your shoulder comfortingly, but it doesn’t help — you’re annoyed now.

”What are you even talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re right — he’s an asshole. You’re right. You love being right, don’t you?”

The silence is almost palpable. Jeonghan has stopped moving in the kitchen, Seokmin is frozen next to you, and you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Seokmin slowly moves to stand up, heading into the kitchen with Jeonghan, leaving the two of you alone.

“It’s not about being right,” Seungcheol finally says, and you avoid his gaze when he joins you on the couch. “All I care about is the fact that he should treat you better.”

Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument, and you can feel your shoulders sag. You know that he’s right — and you hate it. 

“I know,” you admit, and all of your misplaced anger drains from you in seconds. “I know he should,” you repeat, feeling your remaining defenses start to crumble. “So why won’t he?” 

You say the last words so quietly that you’re surprised anyone hears you, but you know that at least Seungcheol has when his shoulders fall. You hear him inhale a breath, but you speak again before he gets a chance to say anything.

“I just don’t understand why I’m not worth the effort.” You can hear your voice crack, followed by silence, and then — you break. The tears are falling before you can stop them. You feel the couch shift as Seungcheol turns. Whatever hesitation he’d had about comforting you before seems to ease up as his hand finds your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. You’re grateful, but you still can’t look at him.

“What about the people who do treat you well?” His tone is softer now, but you can tell he’s still upset by the tone of his voice. You don’t have a chance to answer before he speaks again. “I could tell you a million times how great I think you are, I could make a thousand plans to hang out, I could go on and on about how much I like being around you… but nothing will change until you figure out a way to believe me. I—“ He clears his throat. “We— care about you so much. All of us. We should be the people that matter.”

“But what did I do wrong? With him?”

Seungcheol’s hand on your thigh is gone in a flash. He stands up, and you miss his warmth immediately. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says, voice low. He’s angry, you can tell, but he would never admit to it. 

You want to apologize, desperate to bring him back to you, but you’re frozen. 

“I’m going to head out.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look back at you. Jeonghan and Seokmin appear from the kitchen, but no one says anything except for a ‘drive safe’, and then he’s gone.

It’s silent for a moment, and then you say, “I fucked up.”

To your surprise, Jeonghan doesn’t scold or tease you. He doesn’t even agree. Seokmin disappears back into the kitchen to tend to the food Jeonghan was cooking, but Jeonghan himself joins you on the couch with a sigh.

“Listen,” Jeonghan starts. “You and I are similar — we always tend to focus on the people that don’t care. We want to be loved, so when someone doesn’t put in as much effort as us, we feel like we have to figure out why. We want to know what we did wrong, even though we didn’t do anything wrong at all. We forget that there are tons of people that love us a lot already. I love you, for example.” Jeonghan pinches your thigh affectionately, before he juts his thumb in the direction of your front door. ”Or what about that guy? The one who just left my apartment, pissed, because you let someone make you question your worth? He cares about you without thinking twice. For him, it’s effortless. You’re worth it, and you’ve never had to prove that to us. You just are, and always have been.”

You’re officially crying now. You know you’ve really upset Seungcheol, and you know your friends are all right. You know it, you know they love you and you love them, but why don’t you believe that you deserve it?

“I should go home,” you say softly, but your hand squeezes Jeonghan’s in acknowledgement, in a quiet thanks.

“I won’t say anything else except for this,” Jeonghan says gently. “I know you think Cheol is worth it, too. Being with someone doesn’t always have to feel like effort.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s effortless.”

You spend the next week thinking, and thinking, and thinking, until the ball drops and you finally just do it. You block Junseok on every social media, you delete his number, and you’re proud of yourself for it. You don’t message your friends back very much throughout the week. Seungcheol in particular has been radio silent, but you suppose you deserve that. You don’t reach out first, instead taking the time to process everything that’s happened, to process everything you’re feeling — and not just about Junseok. 

You know that Seungcheol has always meant a little bit more to you than anyone else. Now, you’re wondering why you’ve never done anything about it — and you’re also wondering just how long you’ve been blind to the fact that Seungcheol most likely, almost definitely, likes you back. 

Y/N [5:36pm]: early Galentines dinner at my place this Sunday at 7?

You receive an almost immediate thumbs up from Seokmin and Soonyoung.

Hannie [5:43pm]: yaaaaas

Wonu [5:44pm]: might be a bit late but I’ll be there 

Kwanie [5:52pm]: NOOOOO I’m busy :(

Kwanie [5:52pm]: galentines?? WITHOUT ME????? UNBELIEVABLE

You smile at that, texting Seungkwan a private apology in a separate chat. Your heart jumps in your chest when you receive another notification, and you’re filled with relief so quick and intense that it feels like you’ve been doused in water.

Cheollie [5:58pm]: I’ll be there. Cheollie [5:58pm]: need help setting up?

You hug Seungcheol the second he walks through your door. He reciprocates, and you feel relieved and anxious and warm and fuzzy all at once.

Now, a half hour has passed, and neither of you have mentioned what happened the week before. He tells you about his week at work, and you hate the small talk but you know it’s all just the road back into the familiar ease of your friendship — so you participate. It’s only when you’ve finished getting ready for dinner, Valentine’s Day decorations and lights all strung up and ready to go, that he speaks up again. You’re preparing tea for the two of you when he catches you entirely off guard. 

“Will Junseok be joining us tonight?”

You can feel your shoulders tense up. You can tell that it pains him to say it, but you also know he’s the brave one for even bringing it up. You take a deep breath. 

“He’s not coming tonight, or any other night, actually.”

Seungcheol seems surprised as he hands you a mug from the cupboard before grabbing one for himself. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

Seungcheol’s eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen to the kettle, pausing before speaking again. “I can tell.”

You turn back to him as you click the kettle on to boil, an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Was that sarcastic?”

The man smiles as he shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You seem happier than...” He trails off, but you both know what he’s thinking: than when I saw you last.

“I am,” you reply honestly, and it’s silent again for a moment before you both start to speak at the same time.

“Listen, I–”

“Hey, Cheol–”

You can feel warmth start to spread through you when he begins to laugh at your clumsiness — it had only been a week, but you’d missed that. You’d missed him. 

“You first,” you offer, and he nods.

“I’m sorry that I was frustrated when I left the other day,” he says, and you tilt your head in surprise at his apology. He shrugs before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left like that… but in my defense, I didn’t know you’d disappear for a week.” He’s joking, and you smile a bit at that.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Cheol.” He joins you at the counter and you begin to pour hot water into both mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you can feel him next to you. It suddenly all feels so intimate, the way you’re making tea for him the way he likes it without him saying a word, the way he watches you move around in your kitchen as if he does it every day. 

You turn to hand him his tea and when your eyes meet his, you feel a flush begin to creep up your neck to find him already looking back.

“I mean it,” you say softly, and he hums in response, eyebrows raising as he takes a sip and waits for you to continue. “I really am sorry for not being around the last couple of weeks.” You hop up onto the counter, legs dangling off of it as you wait for your tea to cool. 

Seungcheol sets his mug down on the counter and sends you a soft smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You nod, looking down, and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Thanks,” you say quietly, but he knows you’re not finished speaking. His eyes don’t leave your face, and his fingers still grip onto the handle of his mug as he waits, ever patient, for you to gather your thoughts. “I’m still sorry, though. I was just so overwhelmed and didn’t want to deal with it, so I let everything build up to a breaking point.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Seungcheol repeats. He’s being genuine — you can hear it in his voice. Your eyes meet his again, and you almost wish they hadn’t because you have more to say, and you might lose all of the courage left in you if he keeps looking at you like that. 

“Just… Just let me explain,” you request quietly, and he nods again. “I… I guess I just needed a bit of time to myself. To figure out what’s important to me.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. “To figure out who is important to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flush as you finish. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time, and you think your heart is in your throat now as he continues to gaze at you.

“Yeah?” 

Does he understand what you’re implying? Your eyes move to land on the dark strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. You suddenly feel a desperate need to reach out, to brush his hair back, to touch it. To touch him. Would he let you? Does he want that, too?

“Yeah,” you finally repeat, your quiet voice matching his as you meet his gaze again.

He moves then, slowly, almost as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off, shifting closer and reaching across your legs to set his mug in the sink. Your breath catches in your throat as he straightens back up in front of you, his now-empty hand falling to the counter beside your thigh. He’s standing right in front of you, caging you in between his arms, and you can’t look away.

“And what’s the verdict?” Comes his question, dark eyes searching yours.

“That I should start to focus more on the people that show me they care. Because those are the ones that I care about the most, too.” 

The tension in the air is palpable. 

Then his fingers gently, tentatively, brush against yours where they rest on the counter. He doesn’t do anything more, testing the waters, and it takes everything in you not to shiver. His gaze falls to your mouth, and you hold your breath — then he looks down and away from you, his eyes squeezing shut, and the moment is lost.

“Cheol?” You say carefully, desperate to get him to look at you again. He hums in response, but he doesn’t look up. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you feel like if you don’t say what you want to say right now, you never will. “Thank you.”

That seems to get his attention as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once more. You can tell he’s surprised as he murmurs, “For what?”

“For being here.” You’re not sure if that’s what you meant to say, or how you meant to say it, because it sounds far too simple for how you feel about the man in front of you. And then he smiles.

“Of course,” comes his reply. You watch as his smile grows and he says, “I was told there would be free beer.”

You blink at him for a moment, processing — and then you let out a single, surprised laugh. You feel some sense of relief wash over you as the tension between you breaks a little, as everything around you seems to soften. You feel a little bit like you’re glowing from the inside out, warm and fuzzy like the pink heart-shaped lights strung up around your apartment, and you wonder if he feels it, too. You’re starting to think that maybe he does.

“Cheol,” you say, and you offhandedly wonder why you’re saying his name so much. He grows serious again, but the lighter air between the pair of you gives you just enough confidence to continue. “I don’t just mean today,” you elaborate, your voice soft. You feel vulnerable now, even more than before, your eyes falling to your lap. “You’re always there when I need you, and even sometimes when I think that I don’t.” Seungcheol laughs quietly at that. “It means a lot to me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You mean a lot to me.” 

When you look up, you find him gazing back, and you abruptly realize that he’s moved even closer. The fingers that were playing with yours move up to your waist, and your entire body reacts to the warmth of his palm. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, a quiet question that threatens to overwhelm you. He’s making sure that you want this just as much as he does. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“More than okay,” you affirm. His mouth lifts at the sides, dimples just peeking through. Again, you think that there’s something more that you wanted to say, but your breath is caught in your throat and he’s just so… beautiful.

“I…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyebrows furrow. You’re desperate to be even closer as you wait, closing the final space between you to press your forehead to his. “It was so hard not talking to you this week,” is what finally he says, and though he hasn’t said much, you think you understand. 

I missed you. That’s what he’s trying to say.

You desperately want to communicate to him that you won’t leave him like that again, that you don’t plan on going anywhere, that the last seven days away from him sucked just as much for you. In a bold move, you ease your legs apart, leaving room for him to stand between them. Your calf moves to hook behind his knee, tapping against him in a silent request for him to come even closer. You hope he understands — that you want him close like this, that you missed him more than you think he realizes.

He seems to understand you just fine.

He easily fills the space you made for him, his chest nearly flush against yours now. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, and you inhale a shaky breath as he brushes his nose against yours. Your hands have found his shoulders, grasping onto the material of his sweater, and his eyes fall shut.

The same, pesky strand of hair is falling into his eyes again, and you’re pretty certain that given your current position, you’re allowed to do something about it now. So you do, lifting a hand to gently brush it back and over his forehead, gaze following the movement. His eyes open at the touch, and a whisper of your name brings you back to him. 

The moment you lock eyes again, he’s leaning forward to capture your mouth with his. 

Your hand falls from his forehead to his bicep as you gasp into the kiss, as you try and process. When you do, when you realize what’s finally happening, you can’t get enough. You’re pulling him in so close that you feel a bit feral, your fingers pressing into his arms, his back, one hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You can tell he’s not faring much better than you as he chases your lips relentlessly, as he pulls you into him so close that you can’t feel anything but him. 

When you finally need to breathe, your hands find his face. You pull back, eyes taking him in as he lets out a breath, like he can’t believe what’s just happened, either. He looks at you, and you look back, and you have no idea what to say or do — until suddenly, you’re beaming. You can’t help it as you pull him back in for one long, slow kiss, grin wide against his mouth, your hand moving again to the back of his neck. He’s smiling, too — your favourite smile of his, the one that’s completely, entirely genuine — and when he pulls away only to bury his face in your neck this time, you can feel the smile against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

It’s quiet, whispered against your skin, but you hear it. Your fingers pause their trail up and down his back. You move his face back up to look at him, your eyes searching his, desperate to know if you heard him right. “Cheol?”

He kisses you again, once, twice, so slow and soft that it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, breathless against your lips. He waits for you as you let it sink in, his hands firm on your waist, eyes boring into yours so you know that he means it. 

You believe him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, foreheads moving to rest against each other once more. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating. You’re certain that yours isn’t doing much better.

“I do have a question though,” he says after a few moments pass, and you hum, urging him to go on. “You said you were going to spend more time with the people that care about you, right?” 

You move back to look at him and tilt your head in question. “Yes?”

“I’m guessing that includes Jeonghan and Hoshi and the boys,” Seungcheol muses, and you nod, your eyebrows raising. Then he pouts, and you sputter out a laugh.

“What’s that face for? They’re your friends, too!”

Seungcheol huffs. “Yes, but if you meant that you’re going to kiss them like that, too, then –”

You clap a hand over his mouth. “Ew!”

The man in front of you has a shit-eating grin on his face now, and you remove your hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Trust me,” you shudder, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about kissing.”

“You’ve thought about it, huh?”

You look up at him, smacking his chest. “Shut up!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought about it too.” When he moves to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of our friends,” you tease, “they’re literally going to be here any second. You have permission to kiss me as much as you want to later, okay?”

A/N: here it is! The first of our Thirteen Valentines. I have to be honest, I got a little carried away with this one... I'll put out a full disclaimer that not all of the fics will be this long! Seungcheol has a solid grip on me and I couldn't do anything about it, you guys.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda

[cozy-writes-things]

Hiii ~‼️if you're still taking requests

I'd like to request some Edgar x Reader 😈

But the reader is self conscious about how they look, and they've gotten genuinely upset about it and Edgar comforts them, ending with some sweet kisses on his lil monitor 🙏🙏🤭

Eeee tysm for the request!! Hehehe he WILL be making sure you know how beautiful you are. If you don't believe him he'll get angy. Probably. anyway im a certified idiot so theres probably so many errors but i dont have grammarly so oopsie

The lump in your throat seems to have gotten stuck. 

No matter how hard you swallow, it remains there, bobbing, imploring the welling tears to spill over and fall from your already puffy eyes.

You feel ridiculous right now.

Your lips, plump and swollen, eyes all red, and strained knit in your brow make you feel like a fool. And perhaps you are one.

The mirror stares back at you bitterly. Its reflection seems to be taunting you, pulling you into its trance, and reveling in your pain. 

You’re so disgusting.

It feels as though the reflective glass is whispering to you, its loud, shrill voice highlighting every single flaw, and mocking you from the inside out. It has somehow wormed its way into your head, nesting there, and festering into an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and self hatred about to collapse. 

Please, pull yourself together. 

You can’t do this right now, you think. 

But god, you feel miserable, and it seems as though your own visage is reflecting it perfectly. How come your face is so… wrong? It’s a sight you can’t quite describe. You look at yourself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at you.

“Hey,” Edgar’s voice provides a miniscule break from the battle you wage against yourself, albeit barely, “aren’t you supposed to meet them at 4:30?”

Ah, yes. He’s always looking out for you. It almost made you feel worse, in some sick, twisted way. How could someone like you deserve someone like him? He may be different, but you were sure if he were human, he would be far better looking than you. He simply has to; his personality is far too charming and handsome for his face to not reflect it. Even now, as an old, yellowing computer, you feel as though he’s got you beat in terms of looks.

But that’s not saying much, is it? Anything is better to look at than you.

You stare back into your dull, sunken eyes.

You hear Edgar’s voice call out your name, faintly, and only then do you realize you had completely ignored him. 

Some friend you are, huh? Couldn’t just be ugly on the outside, could you?

All of these thoughts swarming your head seem to finally tip the scales. This war you’ve waged for so long is finally coming to an end as you slap your palm over your lips to cover the silent sob racking your chest and lungs.

The lump in your throat remains.

It burns now, sending searing hot jolts down your throat and into your very core, heating your tears from the inside out, as they spill over and leave icy trails down your puffy cheeks.

Something about trying, and failing, to hide hushed sobs causes your throat to ache and your knees to start giving out. You want to collapse to the floor and let it swallow you whole, but you can’t. You can’t let Edgar know just how gross you really are. It seems like he���s somehow been deceived into thinking you’re someone you’re not, and the idea of him seeing the truth, terrifies you. 

He calls your name again.

This time, with a sense of worry and urgency. It seems your hushed weeping sept through the walls and into his ever-so-sensitive audio processors. 

You should have seen that coming. 

“Edgar, I…”

You meekly call out to him, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as it cracks and reverberates through the air. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

He sounded quite distressed now. He had become all too familiar with the sound of anguish in one’s voice; the way he could simply hear the tears against your cheeks in the words you spoke and your soft pants as you tried to conceal your sobs sent a pain so strong and embedded so deeply inside of him it scared him.

“I don’t think I’m going anymore,” your voice murmured out, completely defeated, concealed by the bathroom door.

Normally this would make him happy, getting to spend more time with you, but he knew this was wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn’t stand hearing you like this, knowing how excited you were, and now you’re not going? He loves spending time with you, but he also knows just how happy you are to have friends that care about you and want to spend time with you, and he can always see just how energized and radiant you seem when you come home to him, your sweet giggles sending him to cloud nine. 

“Will you please come out?”

He knows you hear him. His speakers are turned up far too loud for you not to have heard him. But, he gets no reply.

“…Please?”

He hears you still ever so slightly behind the bathroom door.

“Will you just let me help you? At least let me try?”

It nearly made him combust hearing you like this. He wished more than anything he could crawl out of his stupid screen and embrace you in the way you deserved; he felt simply useless in this moment. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, he worries that he may never break through to you until he notices the doorknob, fidgeting in place, gently unlocking and turning. The door cracked open ever so slightly and your face came into view. 

Your beautiful face, all stained with tears and swollen. 

How could he let you get this way?

You were absolutely magnificent to him. You had done yourself up tastefully and he thought you looked perfect. He had never seen that outfit before. You styled your hair extra nicely today. Despite your expression, you were simply glowing, so why were you so heartbreakingly crestfallen?

He hummed, a sound of relief, seeing you slowly creep out, trying desperately to hide your chaotic and jumbled emotions.

“You look great. What’s got you so upset?”

Your face turned sour at his words.

“Please stop trying to flatter me. It will never work.”

A question mark appeared on his screen.

“Flatter you? What are you talking about?”

You frantically waved your hands between yourself and the little pinecone computer flashing with worry, “This! I’m talking about this! You keep telling me these things that aren’t true. Why are you lying to me? Do you just feel sorry for me?”

Maybe your emotions caused you to lash out. But, in the moment, you felt justified. It felt like everyone was lying straight to your face anytime they’d have the gall to compliment someone like you.

Edgar’s screen went dark. Perhaps he was angry, or thinking, or maybe even realizing that you’re right, you are ugly, and he’s going to leave you high and dry. You wouldn’t blame him.

“When have I ever… lied to you?”

You stare at your feet.

His voice sounded hurt. Accused. Maybe you went too far. You didn’t mean to push your pain onto him. Not like this.

“You always tell me how- how good I look, or how wonderful I look, or- or…”

You try to swallow down the tears beginning to resurface, “how you think I’m pretty and… why say those things when I look like this?”

He was silent.

It stretched on for what felt like eternity. He must be angry with you. You would be angry if you were in his place. You’re sure of it.

His soft chuckle throws you off guard, however.

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d lie about that?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his screen. 

“You are beautiful. How you can’t see that is what I want to know. Here, you know what?”

You hear his fans begin to whir to life, ever so faintly.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head up to his screen. It’s black. Until a number one pops up on the top left corner. Then a two, then three, until a long list of numbers spans the right and left columns of his screen. He’s making a list.

“You’re funny,” his screen displays this at the number one spot, “your eyes are so pretty,” again, it pops up in the number two spot, and he continues to list off every single thing he finds charming about you. 

“The way your laugh sounds makes me happy, and- and your lips! They look perfect to have kisses. I stare at them all the time. And your-“

“Kisses?”

You’re burning red from embarrassment now. Why was he doing this? He’s telling you things about yourself you’ve never even noticed, and you can’t help but wonder just how often he stares at you to note these things himself. 

“I- I mean… yeah… your lips look just like the ones on TV who kiss each other,” his fans kick up to a much louder degree, “who wouldn’t want to kiss them?”

Oh, god. What is he saying right now? You choke and sputter.

“You’re- you’re not saying that you-“

“That I want to kiss you?”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod, incredibly flustered.

“If you come here, I-…”

The list on his screen fades away, the seemingly endless numbers returning to meet his usual green.

“…I’ll show you exactly what I meant.”

His voice seemed so tender and gentle you felt compelled to move towards him. Your feet shuffled to your little rolling chair, and you plopped down in it, staring at him, completely dazed. You’re just too flustered for this.

“You aren’t gonna keep me waiting are you? I’d lean in, but… I can’t.”

You smile softly. Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe. 

Right now, you focus on planting your lips onto every little pixel he’s got, feeling his warm static tickle your nose, as he sighs into your touch. 

“See? I told you. Perfect for kissing!”

Your face is on fire, pulsing up into your ears and down your neck.

“Now, go have fun with your friends, and I’ll show you more when you get back.”

The wink he displays on his screen seems quite audacious.

[thatnonameuser]

May I bring you something to the yandere? I shall bring you: narcissist!reader. HEAR ME OUT. Power play (not sexual) is one of my favorite things ever, I can only imagine the power play they will bring.

Like the reader starts off being all nice and sweet but they are dumb. They can see 4 people their been talked to have been killed, they can put the pieces together and they can get evidence too.

Then the second the yandere strikes it when all the narcissism, gaslighting, bitching, whining, tantrums start. The reader doesn’t wanna shit either they wanna lay around and do nothing. Then the yandere realizing “hey I don’t fucking want this bitch”, that’s when the reader starts holding evidence over their head. “Pookie I saw you kill that very important person from the next door kingdom! One little call call and you’ll be gone gone”

(Sorry if their are any spelling mistakes and that this is so long)

-Anony🪼🪸🌊

Imagine...

Who wouldn't do what you were doing, if they were in your shoes?

You didn't ask to be here, didn't ask to have them be obsessed with you.

Why shouldn't you profit from this? Two princes, the heir of enormous fortune, a movie star, the new head of a secret organisation that can make people disappear, and over dozen more vying for your affection.

Were you cruel? Maybe, but they were too. The idiots killed off those losers for you. So they're not completely innocent.

Your lil cash cows and socialites had to remain unharmed for now. So you chose a random mob student, another to seduce and trick into doing anything you pleased.

Now an RSA student was dead, another drop of blood that never touched your clean hands. And now, your plaything of the week just realised how much you screwed him.

"Y-You lied to me!" You can't remember his name, and you're getting bored. Time to go. But first...

"I never lied, you're just an idiot." His ugly, face screws up in anger. "You're in big trouble now, huh?"

"What?!"

"Oh? You didn't know that our little corpse friend was a prince?" You smile as his face blanches.

"You- YOU BITCH!" He grabs you by your throat, but you aren't afraid. 3,2,1-

A fist flies into your plaything's face, and he collides with the ground with a loud thud.

"Took you guys long enough," You laugh, as Deuce pounds the boys face into a bloody pulp. You turn, and the enraged faces of your little first year lackeys. The bloodlust in their eyes would make that little twerp on the floor crap in fear.

"Are you alright? " Jack asks, his fingers graze the red mark around your throat. Ace, Epel and Sebek join Duece in beating the shit out of the idiot on the floor.

"Perfectly, in fact, let's play a game. Whoever can get him to scream the loudest gets a kiss from me~" You can practically see the hearts in their eyes, blind to your sadism.

Screams fill the air, scaring the birds from their branches, and the animals from their hiding spots. And you grin, an evil little thing you are and you know it. But to be honest, they make people like you afraid for their lives. You're just returning the favor.

[sethsclearwater]

Not normally my style but if you’re looking for something a lil different… what about a Paulxreaderxjared where the reader is bullied by a male coworker at work and the boys find out and freak out at first but then take care of it (and her)?

Normally I’m the 🫣🫣 spicy anon but feel like this would heal something for me LMAO

"did i do this?" paul asked, frowning as he crouched down in front of you and gently grabbed your forearm to inspect the fingerprint marks that were now turning a rather ugly looking bluish purple thanks to your co-worker's rough grip on it earlier that day.

you were quick to shake your head, moving to respond to him but, before you could, paul was calling your other imprinter over to figure out what happened, "did you do that?" paul asked, careful not to keep his voice too accusatory as he tried to get to the bottom of the marks.

"paul-" you started, pulling your arm back towards your chest so both boys wouldn't be able to continue their investigation. paul's frown deepened at your movement but he allowed you to pull your arm back, not interested in adding to the collection of bruises already there.

"'s not a big deal," you added, letting out a heavy sigh when jared sat down on the couch next to you, both boys now having their full attention on you as they waited for you to work up the courage to tell them what was going on.

jared slid his hand behind you, dipping it under your shirt so he could gently stoke his fingers up and down your back, "babe," jared murmured, leaning over to press his lips to your hair, "wasn't that guy again was it?" he asked, referencing your co-worker who jared had a run in with a few days prior when he was picking you up from work. he was pretty positive he'd heard him call you something along the lines of a slut but you'd done your damndest to convince him otherwise so he wouldn't make too much of a scene.

you'd managed to convince him to drop it the first time but didn't think you'd be quite as lucky this go around, "princess answer jared," paul ordered, though his voice remained soft as he rested his hands on your thighs, gently squeezing them when you weren't responding right away.

you were gnawing at your bottom lip and twiddling your fingers together, a dead giveaway to both boys that jared's guess was definitely the truth. when you finally worked up the nerve to lift your gaze to meet jared's, you found his gaze to be nearly as upset as you'd imagined yours was.

slowly nodding, your eyes were quick to fill with tears which had jared quickly sliding his free hand up your side to wrap around your neck and pull you close to his chest, "babe you should've said something," jared murmured, both him and paul letting our heavy sighs as tears began to rapidly stream down your cheeks.

you didn't see it because you were too busy burying your face in jared's shoulder to hide your tears but jared and paul were already in a silent conversation about how they were planning on dealing with your co-worker.

paul stood up after a few moments, the creaking of the floorboards alerting you to his movement which had you lifting your head from jared's shoulder to reveal your now puffy and tear-stained cheeks to both boys, "i'll be right back, yea? jared's gonna stay here and help you with dinner," paul asked, lifting his hands up to gently cup your face in his hands so he could brush away the stray tears with your thumb.

"please don't do anything stupid-" you started, already knowing there was no way you were going to convince either boy to not pay your co-worker a visit after seeing the marks on your arms.

paul leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead, "i'll call you if i need you to bail me out," he reassured playfully, lips curling into a small smile when you let out a quiet giggle at the comment, sniffling as he brushed away the rest of the tears with his thumbs.

jared gently squeezed your hip, leaning over to also press his lips to your hair, "he'll be fine," jared reassured, "now can you show me that recipe you've been yapping about all week?" he asked, letting out a breathy laugh when paul released his hands from your face so you could turn to him and nod, already perking up at the thought of jared helping you out with cooking tonight.

despite loving cooking, you could never seem to get paul or jared too interested, both of them always more content with cleaning up for your afterwards than actually cooking, claiming they were going to ruin it if either boy got their hands into anything.

"alright let's do it, yea?" he asked, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he was intertwining his fingers with yours so he could help you up and into the kitchen while paul went to handle your co-worker.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi so the New York Times just published a gaylor manifesto and since you’ve been my main source of info for this stuff I wanted to share it https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/04/opinion/taylor-swift-queer.html

sigh.

okay. if anyone wants to read along, check out the unpaywalled article here:

https://archive.is/uHxuV

before we really get into this I just want to say that I looked into author Anna Marks' previous contributions to the NYT opinion column, of which there are two: a piece about how Marks, as a queer fan, is "heartbroken" by Harry Styles 'appropriating" queer culture by wearing ugly clothes, and an audio piece about how women referring to themselves as "girls" on TikTok is actually radical feminist praxis. so. hot mess express up in here.

anyway this piece is a shitshow that basically plays at the greatest hits from Gaylor conspiracy theories, mainly harping on her inability to come out because of some intangible threat it would pose to her career:

While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable. Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

immediately beneath this is an image of Taylor Swift crumpled face-down onstage, looking wet; if nothing else, it's peak melodrama.

the most glaring thing about this, to me, is Marks' willful omission of other queer pop stars. she opens the article with a jarring discussion of lesbian country singer Chely Wright's 2006 suicide attempt and mentions a few contemporary celebrities who have been encouraged to stay closeted -  Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven Symoné and Sam Smith - but with the obvious exception of Smith, they're hardly Swift's peers. as I've said before in my worst and most stupid post, the argument that outing herself would "dim Taylor's star" falls apart pretty significantly when you look at the success of artists like Lil Nas X, Billie Eilish, Doja Cat, Cardi B, and Halsey. Taylor Swift had a bigger year in 2023 than any of them combined, frankly; coming out as queer wouldn't slow her down in the slightest. why the fuck are gaylors so determined to act like she's beholden to a fanbase comprised entirely of conservatives?

also everything about how coming out is sooooo hard for famous people because they're subject to scrutiny and weird behavior as if that's not? something Taylor Swift already deals with? hello hi? get a grip I implore you. why are we wasting webspace on this.

[reds-writings]

turned tables

(rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: lil jj (sorta) blurb based off the scene of the double date rust has with marty and maggie. reader gets to be a little jelly now! a smidgen of spice up ahead! minors get out of here!

It was a dumb idea to entertain this whole double-...well more so triple date idea Marty and Maggie had initiated out of the blue. The haze of alcohol and slight sting of jealousy that had blanketed themselves over you for the night was proof of the fact. You hadn’t planned on being the awkward fifth wheel but with a friend of a friend cancelling on you last minute you had no choice but to fly solo. Marty had been quite tickled to find a girl for Rust whom he could maybe blow some steam with but you knew better that his efforts would likely be less than fruitful. 

She was rather gorgeous though and it was no secret she found Rust plenty enticing. You felt selfish hoping the same couldn’t be said for him. This whole outing had reduced you down to feeling like that of an insecure adolescent girl. Comparing every little detail and trait between the two of you in some imaginary competition of who was likely to come out on top for Rust’s token of interest or affection. It wasn’t like you to be like this at all!

Sighing, you lifted the beer you had snuck outside to your lips as you leaned against the side of the bar’s building. There were maybe a few others scattered around who were out here to escape the liveliness going on inside but other than that it was just you playing the part of the lonesome wallflower who needed to have herself a good old fashioned pout over a certain Texan. 

If this is what he had felt like nights ago then it was no wonder why he was so moody and embarrassed at the time. 

The familiar scratching flick of a lighter going off caught your attention but you remained in place as to remain casual and unaware. 

“You gonna stand out here all night like somebody just shit in your lap or come back inside?” Rust’s deep twang rang out around his freshly lit cigarette. He could read just about anybody like a damn book and you sure were no exception in this given moment. You’d hate to think he was perhaps getting a kick out of the parallels between the way you were behaving and recent scenarios that had occurred. 

“Naw, just bored s’ all. Was probably gonna head out soon. Don’t feel like playin’ the sad sack much longer in front of y’all.” When Rust and his date were out on that floor dancing you knew you had probably never looked more pathetic in your life than you had then. Sitting there staring out like some pathetic yearning lover. How weak. You just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep away the ugliness of envy that grappled at your being.

In a more rational mindset, you’d be more willing to accept that none of this had to necessarily mean anything. Rust was just entertaining Marty and Maggie so that there’d be no suspicion curling around what was going on between you two. There was no need for the heat of speculation like that on your backs. Especially not now. 

“Sad sack’s a name for it.” He ambled on closer, the amalgamation of cigarettes, beer, and a cologne you’d have to figure out the name of was all encompassing, making you weaker in the knees by the minute. Knowing him through that brief moment of intimacy you’d had was enough to have you hooked for just about forever. The way in which his mere presence had you secretly falling apart increasingly more as time went on was going to be a problem no doubt. You were wrapped around each other’s fingers in your own unique ways but it didn’t mean you particularly had to like it.

Before you could take a swig from your bottle once more, his calloused hand came up to your jaw to direct your bleary eyes towards his. His expression was one of growing mirth and you almost wanted to scoff.

“This ain’t all that funny.” You rolled your eyes, mouth twisted in a small scowl. 

“Says you, maybe.” 

“Quit lookin’ at me like that, smartass.” 

“Which would be?”

“Like you wanna rib me some more or eat me alive. Can’t be both.”

“Who says, hm?”

“Says me. Can see it plain as day on that stupid mug of yours. You think it’s funny that I’m jealous but let me make it clear that I am nothin’ of the sort-” Your slightly slurred tangent was interrupted by those damned lips of his. Your whole body could’ve blinded the whole parking lot with how much his touch set you alight. It was hot, maybe a little sloppy, as the embrace became all the more heated with every swipe of his mouth and tongue. There was an undeniable thrill to being out here where anybody could see. It was like you were on borrowed time before somebody ought to come searching for you both. 

A low moan tore from your throat as one hand nearly covered the entire surface area of the back of your head to bring you closer as if it were any more possible and the other glided down to palm at the curve of your ass. His responding hum at the contact vibrated throughout your body as your chests stayed closely pressed together, making the growing heat spreading to your thighs kick up a notch or two. How couldn’t you get jealous over someone having a shot at this? 

The sound of the bar’s entrance swinging open had the two of you jumping apart in a flash, eyes glossed over and lips scandalously swollen. Luckily, whoever had just exited was no one you knew. Chests heaving, you gave each other a mutually prolonged once-over before you finally managed to pull yourself from his grip. 

“Next time…give Marty a big fat no.” Was all you said before starting to back away toward your car. Despite the man’s raw, hungry gaze he huffed something resembling a dry laugh. The comedown of the moment had his heart aching for a reason he couldn’t yet decipher. With that love-bit smile stretched wide on your lips and the way you looked at him in that certain way you do had him pushing back any impending thoughts that he could torture himself with later.

[chokepoet]

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

[harusaki-hugo]

Siblings HCs: Hanagaki Edition

Fandom; Tokyo Revengers

Hcs; What's it's like to be Tokyo Revengers younger/older siblings .

Note; I'm bored and I really want a siblings so I can bully them but here I am , the youngest sibling.

Being Takemichi twin sister:-

The smartest, responsible, and strongest twin. Even though you are the youngest, by two minutes but takemichi is always proud of that.

Identical twins despite being a different gender. Like the same hair, height, body type, and face, just like looking at a mirror.

Always mistaken for Takemichi before he dyes his hair. you decide to keep the black hair while he dyes his hair blond for delinquent ✨authentic✨ which you bluntly said, he looks mad ugly.

The only ones who know your existence are Mizo middle gang, well, Takuya at first because he's Takemichi's childhood friend, and automatically he is also your friend.

Yamagishi calls you Takemichi doppelganger and Makoto calls you the ✨cooler✨ Hanagaki, Akkun having a crisis because he thinks you are hot and it's calling Takemichi hot too.

The original Mizo middle leader but you thought it was a waste of time and gave it to Akkun because he's the second most responsible boy, first Takuya but you didn't trust him leading the gang, because of his health.

When Takemichi joins Toman, let's just say when he's first coming back home beaten up, the next day you decide to meet with Toman's president.

Imagine the shock when they see black hair takemichi with a really rare piss-off expression. Like they were confused as hell.

Just before anyone can register what happens, you back fist Mikey in the face.

"oi, takemitchy! you heal pretty fast!"

The original inventor of Hanagaki's infamous ✨ back fist ✨

Shock. Silence. Pure confusion.

Mikey seems pretty stunned at first before he smirk and clenches his fist but before he can throw a punch at you, takemichi appears with Mizo middle and yells;

"That's a girl version of Takemichi!!"-"Dumbass!!! it's called twin sister!!"

You can guess who yell that.

Another silence before chaos interrupts.

Baji is like, "That thing is takemitchy twin?!"

Chifuyu like; "this is like manga I read..where the second male lead falls in love with their love interest twin after being rejected by love interest."

Mitsuya like; "Takemitchy original hair color is black?"

And lastly Draken who look between the twin and said; "Are we going to ignore the fact she hit Mikey?"

"ken-chin, it's hurt." Mikey who looks at you with sparkling eyes because damn that's backfist is hurting like hell, you can see the bruises on his cheek.

Long story short: you are now part of Toman, not an official member but as Hina and Emma and the gang members girlfriends guardian angel.

Because the last time someone tried to kidnap Peh-yan's girlfriend, you appeared with a metal pipe and everyone could hear a doom soundtrack while you swung that pipe.

The news:- a group of delinquents gets sent to the hospital after being beaten up by an unknown individual. three still unconscious and the remaining still in the emergency room. Unfortunately, no death.

Nickname; Take-chi, nii-chan, take-nii (child ver), crybaby bitch (lovingly), cornbread head (as joke) , simp (when he around Hina)

His nickname; Lil' sis, my sister, ototo-chan, the better twin (around Hina) , brother abuser , sometimes just your name.

I'm bored okay. and I want to write fanfic about takemichi gremlin's twin that the infamous delinquent but he the one gets the ✨fame✨

[ghostsy]

Forever Hold Your Peace

WARNINGS: yandere, mentions of death, mentions of murder, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping, hand kink if you squint

A/N: another quick short drabble, pls enjoy a deranged lil wedding crasher dabi.

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! DABI X READER

“Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

She’d never known blue to be such an angry color, but even glowing with barely contained rage, she couldn’t help but find his eyes beautiful. 

“I can’t.” 

It was growing all around them now, ice-colored fire licking at the tattered remains of her white dress. Still, she thought the heat was less threatening than warm. 

Her answer seemed to physically wound him, the soft tremble in his brow almost begging her to say something. Something to justify whatever confusing ugly thing he felt finally standing in front of her after all these years. Something that would let him sleep at night if he were to burn her bones to ash that moment, give into that cruel voice in his fractured mind demanding he destroy any and every memory that had ever made him feel something. 

“You broke your promise.”

“I wasn’t aware there were promises to keep with corpses.” There she was, that quick wit he remembered her for, loved her for, once upon a time. Even with his hand at her throat, even with the blood of the man she’d just sworn to love until death–another corpse, whose promise had quickly been fulfilled–even with his blood smeared across her cheek, she still stood tall, dignified.

“Is that what I am to you?” He breathed, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, fingers flexing at the feel of her racing pulse under her neck, “A corpse?” It was a silly question; the patchwork wounds stapled to his rotting skin suggested he was anything but a real, living, man. If he thought about it, he really hadn’t been living for quite some time.

“No, I suppose not,” Her voice was shaky, and he couldn’t tell if the mascara-stained tears wetting her cheeks were for the mass of burning bodies behind them or for him, “More of a ghost.”

The corner of his lips quirked up, huffing a short, bitter laugh, “A ghost,” He pondered for a moment, “I like it,” His other hand made its way up from her hip, brushing at the underside of her clothed breasts, “Here I am haunting you, after all.”

“I think,” Her hands balled into fists, but he made note as they stayed trembling at her sides, “That you’re here haunting us both.”

“I guess you’re right,” His eyes fell to scan her singed gown, “In another life,” Ignoring the clenching of her jaw, he continued, “You’d have worn that dress for me.”

She swallowed, “In another life,” Her eyes left his now, sweeping the mutilated remains littering the pews, “You’d have loved me enough.”

All of a sudden he tore himself from her as if she’d burned him, “Loved you enough?” An incredulous laugh as his arm stretched out to the scene behind them, “What the fuck is all this if it isn’t enough?” 

“It’s really so devastating,” She sighed out a name that was once his, and he was surprised at the weight one word could leave on his heart, “That you would consider this love.” But his anger had returned full force, and he thought maybe now he’d be able to kill her.

“Did you love him?” 

Here it was, the answer that would seal her fate. He could do it if she said what he knew she’d say. He would do it.

“No,” His heart skipped a beat, “I do love him.” And all at once, the mangled coal in his chest crumbled to ash. Do it. You said you’d do it. Do it, you fucking coward.

No, he needed more. His fingers twitched at his sides, sparks of blue igniting and snuffing out in nervous repetition. Just one more thing, and he could do it. 

“You can’t keep a promise to a corpse,” He spat, “But you can love one?” He stepped closer to her, glowing eyes narrowed, staring down at her.

“Not any more or less than one can love a ghost, I’d imagine.”

His hands flew back to her throat, and he wrenched her face up to meet his, “And do you?” His voice fell to a raspy whisper, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of fury or desperation, “Love a ghost?”

“I don’t want to,” And again more tears welled and fell, “I really didn’t want to.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His words were shaking with anticipation, fingers trembling as they cradled her cheeks.

“Does it matter?” She sniffed, eyes flickering to the carnage, “I shouldn’t. Especially now, I shouldn’t,” There was a wrinkle in her brow that betrayed her self-disgust, “I never should have.”

He swallowed, gaze catching on her lips, “But you do.” He’d meant it to come out as a question, but there was a sort of finality in his words. She makes you weak. Kill her. Do it. Now. Do it now. Shut up.

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her face firmly, “No matter where I go,” The turn of her voice was bitter, “You haunt me.”

A soft, manic laugh, “I think,” He leaned down, lips brushing hers, “We’ve both been haunting each other.” And after a month-long moment he surged forward, crashing his mouth against her own, tongue swallowing the strangled yelp that died in her throat.

He stepped forward as she stumbled back from the force, and her fingers flew to grip at his wrists in an attempt to stabilize herself, nails digging into the ruined skin. His leg steadied between both of hers, the bones in his patchwork hands straining as they pulled her into him, as if he were trying to make her body melt into his; make him whole.

Finally she ripped herself from him, stumbling, and wiped furiously at her lips, “I don’t want you,” Her voice was hoarse as she caught her breath, “Nothing else matters, because I don’t want you.”

It was like someone had poured ice water in his veins, and he’d come to the terrifying conclusion that it didn’t matter what she said or did; she could tell him she wanted him dead, and he’d still find an excuse to keep her here with him. 

“I don’t care,” A breathless confession.

After years without, he hadn’t realized just how starved the idea of letting her go would make him feel. He intended for his flames to swallow her whole when he'd found her again, but there was an entirely more appetizing option. He’d starved himself long enough.

The tapestries along the walls had caught fire, and the light shone through the stained glass windows, casting a blue tint across her skin. Like it was marking her as his. His hand shot out to wrap around her wrist when she tried to turn away, and he yanked her back to him.

“Nothing else matters, because I don’t care.”

She tried and failed to pull her arm from his bruising grip, feet sliding as she used her full weight, “Kill me, then,” She choked on a sob, “Why don’t you just kill me, then?”

He stared at her a long moment as she struggled, streaks of ruined makeup painting her cheeks, that once angel-white gown stained black with ash, a gloss in her eyes he could only describe as heartbreak, and he couldn’t help but think that she’d never looked so beautiful.

“I can’t.”

[life-is-unreal]

Stranger Danger~ {Genshin x Reader} Teyavat Chapter 14 - Teardrop Crystal

slight spoiler : There's probably going to be a slime army :D, which slime for Liyue I wonderrrr :DDD

"Welcome back!" Venti's eyes glimmered under the bar lights. "Ah, this is the Holy Lyre! You managed to retrieve it!"

"The pattern of flowing wind carved on the rosewood... and the strings still feel cool to the touch too. Oh, the memories..." You rolled your eyes. Anyone with an actual brain could tell what's wrong with his words. 

Jean exchanged a glance with you. Barely shaking her head. "What do you think, Venti? Can you summon Dvalin?"

Venti shrugged, spreading his hands, "Although this lyre is the real thing, I doubt that it's going to work. As you can see, the lyre has been through a thousand years of history. Its Anemo power has run dry. In this condition, you couldn't play music fit for even Diluc's tavern with it..."

Diluc frowned, "Bards fight to get on the stage of my tavern. Don't make assumptions!" 

Paimon gaped at him in disbelief, "Is that really important right now, Master Diluc!? And you - did you just borrow the Holy Lyre to play music for drunkards to hear?"

"Hehe."

Paimon's eyes widened in a cartoon like way, "What do you mean "hehe"!?"

"Anyway, we won't be able to call Dvalin with it." You sniggered at Aether's expression, if you didn't know the plot before hand, you would've slapped Venti.

Venti hurriedly changed his words upon Aether's emotionless face. "The lyre itself is fine, but the strings..."

You patted Aether's shoulder, "Time for you to do your lil magic."

"M-me?"

“He never said that it was broken."

He nodded, "It's just that the anemo power is diminished."

You leaned to Aether's ear, "Use the tear drop thingy."

His eyes widened, "I- I never told you about that." He hissed.

You fluttered your eyelashes, "Shut up and do it."

Venti grinned, "It worked, as expected. 

"This youthful glow..." Jean muttered.

"Praising yourself?" Paimon gasped flabbergasted.

"It's not just a youthful glow, it fucking changed colors." You commented.

Jean raised a brow, "KEUGH KEUGH I said nothing." You waved your hands.

She sighed in exasperation, "...I was talking about the Holy Lyre."

"Thanks to Aether having purified the crystal, the Holy Lyre won't continue to lose power. That said, its power is far from replenished. It'd be great if we could get more tears."

"We'll-"

"Wait." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Jean, you didn't pay us yet."

Paimon slapped her forehead. "Oh yeah! Paimon forgot about that too!"

"Oh and we rented out a place instead of going to the inn..." you smiled largely.

Jean smiled lightly, "I'll send all of the rewards after Dvalin no longer threatens Mondstadt."

"Then the water bodies..." you wiggled your eyebrows, sparkles in your eyes.

"After Albedo finishes his experimentations."

"Ok, we'll help."

Venti's eyes remained unfocused, "Suffering alone in some deserted place..." he muttered.

"Dvalin..."

Paimon's expression turned from confusion to sadness, "Poor baby..."

"This is not something that an Honorary Knight and Y/N can accomplish alone. I will mobilize the rest of knights to assist. When you get the Teardrop Crystal, please let Aether perform the purification process."

"Leave it to me."

"Heroes supporting each other and setting out on a journey together... How exciting! Lemme come up with a song for you..." 

You and Paimon side eyed him. "Is that all you're going to do? Just sing?" Paimon screeched.

"Wouldn't be much of a bard if I didn't now, would I?"

"Hmph. You're so cheeky...You deserve an ugly nickname." Paimon, nooo, stop giving people that can one shot us ugly nicknames..."Oh, Paimon knows! From now on, you'll be known as 'Tone-Deaf Bard'!"

-.-.-

(Thousand Winds Temple)

"The ruin guards aren't attacking us..." Paimon scratched her head. "OH YEAH! It's Y/N's ability!"

A strange expression emerged on Diluc's face before returning back to normal.

You coughed slightly, "I think ya'll need to kill it though, how else are you going to get that crystal?"

Jean turned to you. "Y/N, do you want to try?"

"M-me?"

"Yes, I've been wondering how it would react when you attack it." Strong curiosity could be seen through her cerulean eyes.

"But-"

"I'll pay for your rent until you leave."

"Sure!"

Your catalyst appeared besides you.

Aether gaped at you, "Where did you get that?!"

You smirked, "It's called having friends."

It didn't take too long for your smile to drop. "Oh fuck I can barely even fight. What if I fucking die?" You dragged your legs behind you.

Taking a deep breath, a ball of Anemo appeared in your hands.

The ruin guard stared down at you, as if frozen in place. As the ball of Anemo became larger and larger, you felt horrified when you noticed that it wouldn't stop.

"Y/N! That's enough to knock him out!" Aether yelled, he had no idea why you were suddenly so strong, the Anemo ball was stronger than his tornado, his eyes widened as it slowly grew to be twice your size. 

Jean frowned. "Is this her first time?"

Aether paused. "I have no idea but she's definitely never summoned such a large ball."

Jean's eyes narrowed, "I'll have to knock her out if she can't control it, she'll end up in a coma if this continues, she'll also create a large enough storm to cover up the whole of Mondstadt if this Anemo ball continues increasing."

The ruin guard stared down at you. "HELP ME!" You screamed, your hair covering your face. You could feel the large amount of Anemo gathering in your body. In a blue screen that only you could see, you noticed your experience increasing in large amounts.

It was a good thing but you felt chills on your spine, you were going to faint by the enormous amount of energy roaring inside of you. It felt refreshing, but in contrast you could feel your body getting tired. You might die if this continues on.

Suddenly, you felt your body getting lighter. Lifting your head, you noticed that the ruin guard slowly walked towards the Anemo ball. As its arm touched the ball, you felt yourself regaining control of the elemental energy. 

"Is it, killing itself?" Paimon shrieked. 

The machine continued to walk towards you, its gears getting ripped and turned into metal dust by the reckless energy.

You panted, staggering as the entire ruin guard turned into metal dust before disappearing, a precious chest dropping in its place.

"That was unexpected." Diluc's questioning gaze landed on you before striding towards the chest.

"To sacrifice itself so that you wouldn't be depleted of elemental energy. This... is indeed very unexpected. Your pet slimes don't even seem as odd now that I think of it." Jean handed you a potion.

"This will replenish the lost energy in your body. Sucrose created the formula by accident. I'll introduce you to her soon. Sorry for almost knocking you out." 

"It's fine. I didn't expect this too."

"I'll bring you to Albedo when he comes back with results with the samples across Mondstadt."

"Sorry, but umm... Paimon has been wondering since yesterday, what are you guys talking about?" Paimon giggled nervously.

"Oh? Is there a problem with Mondstadt's water? I was wondering why I saw Kaeya near the Dawn Winery." 

Remembering the sample of water that Keyarye 'accidentally' dropped, a small bottle appeared in your hands. The moment you returned back home, you had split the sample of the concentrated substance in portions. You were going to give one of them to Albedo but he was probably cooped up somewhere doing experiments.

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot. You might want to give this to Albedo, he can compare it to other samples." The concentrated liquid wasn't like the diluted samples, it looked like water but to the keen eye, some differences could be spotted. From the minty tint to the light sweet smell.

"Thank you Y/N." Obviously, Jean noticed the differences, hopefully she'd give you a raise.

Clearing your throat, "Did you guys seriously not notice how all the plants around the lakes look kinda wilted and how there's less and less fish? Why'd you think a bunch of knights gathered samples of the water bodies. And come on Aether! You legit go out every single day. How brain dead are you?"

Paimon coughed, "Anywayyyy, Paimon didn't think we'd find Dvalin's tears in a place like this."

"As knights, we are taught to hone our investigative skills."

"And I ended up in prison because three knights thought I was a spy." You grumbled.

Jean sighed, holding her head. "I'll double your pay if you stop talking about that during work."

Your eyes sparkled in joy, "Ok Grandmaster!

-.-.-

(Whispering woods)

"Jean...has a turtle..." Paimon whispered dazed. "Diluc...has a turtle?...too?!"

"Paimon... Are you ok?" You poked her tummy. "Paimon... You gained weight again."

Paimon turned to you, her eyes unfocused, "Hey Y/N, did you have a pet turtle when you were young?"

"Yeah. I had...five or something but they all died because of sickness. Maybe something else."

"Y/N... had five turtles.... turtles...Ehehehe, turtles..."

Your face scrunched up. "She's..."

"Yeah, let's ignore her. Let her be in her lil world." Aether muttered. Yup, Aether sounded more and more like a Gen Z through your influence.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teyvat Chapter 15:

https://www.tumblr.com/life-is-unreal/763057975194779648/stranger-danger-genshin-x-reader-teyavat?source=share

[iamawolfstarsimp]

Sup bitches im back

currently snowing where I am so thought I'd make a cute lil cozy fluffy fix for ya'll (plus, who doesn't like those)

Hope you all are well, I recently got sick and finally am rid of whatever sort of illness it was. but I'm just gonna get into the swing of things again now that I'm better so what better way to do that than write a fic for ya'll

but anyway, enjoy!

Sirius didn't know what this feeling was. A sort of misplacement.

It happened every few weeks or months, where Sirius would wake up and not feel right in his bones. As if his soul was uncomfortable in his body.

It wasn't like the regular winter or autumnal melancholy, but a deeper feeling than that. It weighed him down for however long it stuck around, dragging within him like some sort of ball and chain.

You could usually tell when it happened, the symptoms were pretty obvious. He was less energetic and wasn't in on any pranks or mischief making, he ate less and dressed more proper instead of his usual mushed up look, and either avoid the others like the plague or follow them around like a helpless puppy.

He rarely ever talked to anyone about it (as far as Remus knew) except for James. He would wordlessly crawl into James' bed when he felt the need to and they would talk (so he presumed, they always put up a silencing spell. He used to wish he could know what they talked about behind those curtains, to be included in their mystery conversatios. It hurt sometimes how Sirius would hide away all of the things he found ugly about himself and only show them to people he truly trusted. Of course, those memories were years ago, before they had even started dating so now he got to see plenty of Sirius' parts. Both the good and bad.)

On days or nights he felt that sense of longing or depression, he would crawl into Remus' bed and they'd talk or not talk. Whatever Sirius needed at the time.

This time was one where he wanted to talk. It was morning before classes and the others had already left. Remus was never a morning person so he stayed and slept in, snoozing his alarm every few minutes.

Sirius walked over and opened his curtains timidly. Remus turned and looked before smiling.

"Can I come in?" Sirius murmured. Remus nodded and rolled over to open the blankets for Sirius to crawl into which he did gladly.

"You wanna talk or jus' 'ere for a cuddle?" Remus slurred, blinking awake.

"Both?" Sirkha shrugged. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius' shoulders, ducking his face into his shoulder to hug him. They stayed like that before Remus pulled back.

"M'kay, what's up?" Remus asked, resting his head on his pillow but remaining eye contact.

"I don't really know, I just-" Sirius sighed, looking away. "How do you feel upset about something that you don't feel upset about?"

"Like, I feel sad about my body right now but my head knows I'm hot and I have no reason to dislike myself but I do." Sirius explained, looking up at him.

Remus paused, letting the air settle. "Feelings and emotions can be confusing. Sometimes you can't control or rationalize them. They can be wildly incorrect but you still feel them not matter how you much you try to rid of them." Sirius looked away again. "And that's okay." Remus turned his face so that he'd look him in the eye. "Sometimes the best thing you can do is just feel, even if that's all you can do."

"No one's gonna judge you for being human and not loving yourself all the time." Remus smiled.

Sirius gave a small smile back. "What's bothering you this time?" Remus asked.

"Just my scars," Sirius replied, tracing up and down Remus' arm as he spoke. "Memories of how I get them, the pain I experienced as I got them, the house." Sirius shuddered slightly, shaking his head. "God, the house."

"I understand." Sirius knew he did but felt glad to be reassured. "My scars get to me too."

"Yeah, but, your scars are badass!" Sirius said immediately. Remus eyerolled but he was smiling. "Yours are like battle scars, they make you even hotter. Mine are just evidence of where I came from."

"If anything your scars are "battle scars", with all the fighting you and your mother had." That got a chuckle out of Sirius. "Mine are self-induced and you know that." Remus aimed a poke for Sirius' middle. Sirius swatted away his hand.

"Don't be mean."

"Don't be such a grouch." Remus snarked back, poking him again.

"Don't tickle me." Sirius grabbed his hands, or tried to.

"Oh, sorry, was I tickling you?" Sirius grinned and rolled over, hiding his face.

"You know you were, you meanie!" He said into the pillow.

"Can't help it, you're too fun to mess with." Remus leaned in and spoke in Sirius' ear, hands moving to wiggle against his sides.

"Rehemus!" Sirius shouted, arms slamming down to protect his sides.

Remus only grinned and continued. Sirius flipped over to properly defend himself but only succeeded in revealing more spots for Remus to "torture".

"No, wait, don't!" He laughed as Remus pinched along the bottom of his stomach. He threw his head back and cackled, hands weakly hitting Remus in the arms and shoulders.

"Hm? Don't what Padfoot? Honestly you're making no sense right now." Remus tutted, kissing the corner of Sirius' outstretched mouth.

"Tickle me! Don't tihihickle me!" Sirius giggled, yelling when Remus slipped his hands underneath his loose sleep shirt.

"Tickle you? Well if you insist." Remus shook his head and drilled his fingers into the bottom of Sirius' ribs, kissing different places his mouth could find. Sirius was lost in his own mirth, back arching, squeaking all the while squirming like mad.

Remus backed off and just trailed his fingertips across Sirius' sides lightly. He tugged up his shirt to inspect the scar that ran across Sirius' side, three prosice lines cut evenly on his left side, his mother's doing. He traced the lines a few times till Sirius caught his breath.

"You're an awful boyfriend." Sirius scowled, but there was amusement in his eyes. Remus only laughed and kissed him again.

"Better?" Remus raised his eyebrows.

"No, but I'll accept your measly apology for now because we have class in twenty minutes." They both hopped up from the bed.

"But I expect a hundred more later!" Sirius shouted from the bathroom. Remus shook his head in the moment but fulfilled Sirius' request and some.

Hope you liked!

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

Idk what made me think this but here’s a new future kid to go with Malachite and the others. Meet Lapis, Malachite’s baby sister. She’s still in elementary so she wasn’t “summoned” like the rest but her favorite uncle Jade told her (what he could remember of the visit) and may have “encouraged” a potion maker to help the lil baby.

Day is going good, just Azul, Marcus, Malachite and the tweels in the vip lounge when the door is kicked in to reveal a VERY angry 6 year old with the chubbiest cheeks.

“You are so dead Malachite!” she screams, tackling the teen off the couch. As a fight starts the Octotrio are reminded of the tweels as children.

“Alright, that is enough!” Marcus yells, breaking them up by picking Lapis up.

“Malachite, would you like to explain?” Azul asked, taking the now teary eyed girl from his husband. Unexpectedly, she clings to him, and if he didn’t know better he’d compare her grasp to a suction cup.

“Not my fault I wanted a break from my bratty sister,” the teen grumbled. Sure he wanted some space since she constantly tried to visit him at school, but he wasn’t an ass that wanted her to cry.

The remaining occupants of the room turned to get a closer look at the sniffling girl in Azul’s arms. She had cute chubby cheeks, big watery silver blue eyes (which reminded the tweels of a certain baby octopus), her hair was pulled into pigtails and while it had Marcus’ texture the color was a neat match to Azul’s.

“Oh yeah, lil Takoyaki is a crybaby just like the big thing,” Floyd teased, earning a grumpy look from Azul.

“Shut it little eel! Or I’ll tell Papa and Daddy all about the jar incident!” Lapis shouted, putting on a brave face as she tried to stand up to the hyperactive eel. And oh boy did this get the tweels attention, no one outside the family, not even Azul, knew about the jar incident.

“Oh my, and how would you know about that little one?” Jade asked, looking a bit closer at the girl and spotting something dangling from her left ear. Was that…a mushroom?

“Jade told her,” Malachite groaned, finally getting off the floor.

“Uncle Jade is the bestest uncle in the world! He teaches me how to trade blackmail and we go on hikes! He even got us matching earrings, see?” And with that Lapis turned her head to show off the tiny red and white mushroom piercing her ear.

“She’s got blackmail on everyone and it’s such a pain in the-”

“Big brother, think about your words~. Do you want me to tell papa about the you know what you’re hiding?” Lapis gave a devious look that reminded everyone of Marcus when he gets mad.

“And what is he hiding sweetie?” Marcus asked, giving Malachite the side eye as the boy looked everywhere BUT his parents.

“I can’t tell you Papa, why get a cookie now when I could make a whole batch later? Uncle Jade taught me to be patience with my prey-I mean brother.” Oh. Oh no. That smile she was giving Malachite had serious Jade vibes. Just their luck, both Azul and Marcus’ kids love their Tweel uncles so much they take after them.

Some random facts I thought up for Lapis:

She an octopus mer like her Daddy. More specifically she’s a blue ring octopus. She’s actually kinda chubby like Azul used to be as a child and they bonded over this, and Azul tries to make sure she knows how pretty/cute she is.

Lapis 1000% is a daddy’s girl, for both her fathers. She always try’s her best to make them proud and think they are the best daddies ever.

Though they can but heads, Lapis ADORES her big brother. She can practically follow him around like a duckling at times, which can cause some annoyance for the teen. One time Lapis came home crying because a boy at her daycare called her fat and ugly (and made fun of her octopus form). That boy had to face her fathers/uncles/the Ramshackle group/and Malachite and his friends. This baby is like the most protected of all the NRC kids (helps that she’s one of the youngest).

Lapis loves Jade so much because when she was really little she was scared of the dark, and Jade gifted her some string lights shaped like mushrooms he had bough on impulse (his mushroom obsession can’t he stopped!). They bonded that day as Lapis hadn’t seen mushrooms before and asked Jade lots of questions.

Another siblings has joined! Marcus and Azul got another kid!

@the-broken-truth

[aceviscontiswife]

Hey bae😘

So I’m thinking maybe some submissive Jill Valentine. Maybe a lil bit of calling her officer (in a taunting manner😈).

I just really need this ya know, since she wasn’t under my tree just me😪

Well… maybe you’ll finally win me over with Jill! Still a Wesker fan at heart, though. Nothing can beat that hunk of manipulative man-meat (except maybe Ghostface & Deathslinger).

Under arrest - Jill Valentine

Jill’s been awful stressed lately, why not help her relax?

Warnings: friends to lovers, bottom!jill, nipple-sucking, you cant get enough of Jill’s boobs, tying up Jill’s hands, fingering, a lot of kissing. Afab/stars reader.

Before we begin please be warned I had to have the requester (a close friend) explain almost the entire Resident Evil 3 plot to me because I have never played it and am too poor to buy it…

Jill couldn’t remember the last time she slept through an entire night, or even on a bed for that matter. You worried about her, she was so focused on the pair of you surviving that she was letting herself go, her nightmares practically having become a part of her schedule. You wanted her to relax, to let go for just long enough to take care of herself.

The pair of you were currently seeking shelter in an abandoned apartment complex, staying in the cleanest room you could find. Jill sat on the bed, staring out of the window in thought so deep you didn’t know if she even knew you were there. You sat down next to her, resting your hand on top of hers. She jumped a bit, glancing over at you and sighing. She had bags under her eyes, and looked like she was seconds away from passing out from exhaustion.

“You need to relax a bit, Jill. I know getting out of here and back to Carlos is important but you have got to take care of yourself.” You trace your thumb over her knuckles, silently pleading her to rest. “I can’t, Y/n. We’re so close, we can’t stop now. If Nemesis finds us again, we’re dead.” You sigh, scooting closer to Jill. She was tense, but with each passing second she became more comfortable with the hand enclosed on hers and your presence getting closer and closer to hers. If Jill was being honest, being around you relaxed her.

“I know, but we have enough time to sleep. We have enough time to rest and regain enough energy to kick Nemesis’s ugly ass and get the vaccine.” You got a small chuckle out of Jill, the sound like music to your ears. You’d always liked Jill. When you were first starting out in S.T.A.R.S, Jill was who you aspired to be. She was strong, good at what she did, and was willing to help you out with anything. You had grown a lot closer to her ever since the outbreak, and especially when Nemesis began chasing you two. You were getting to see sides of Jill she’d never shown anyone. A much softer side.

“We can rest here for a minute, but there’s no telling if we over sleep or not. We can’t risk falling asleep, Y/n.” Jill remained adamant in her decision, and you knew there was nothing more you could say to convince her to sleep. But, there was one thing you could try. Sure, it didn’t involve sleeping, but it was definitely something to reduce the stress she was under. You inched closer to her until your arm touched hers, she looked over at you and entwined her fingers with yours.

“Can I help you relax, Jill?” Your words brought a tint of pink to Jill’s cheeks, and brought a shyness from her you’d never seen before. She didn’t know what you had planned, but if it was what she thought it was, she wanted it. She liked you, she like your grit, your strength, and the care you showed for everyone; especially her. Just like her, you had narrowly escaped an encounter with Nemesis, finding her and Brad with only a minor injury to your leg. Brad sacrificed himself for you and Jill, and you’ve been inseparable since.

“You can try your hardest.” Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest upon hearing Jill’s consent. In an instant, your other hand cupped her face, bringing her lips closer to yours until they were ghosting over one another. “Trust me, Valentine, I know what I’m doing.” You wink at her before connecting your lips with hers, Jill eagerly returning the kiss. She brought her hand up to your face, cupping your cheek in her hand. You smile into the kiss, grazing your teeth over her bottom lip. She opens her mouth for you, your tongue grazing over hers before exploring her mouth. She fought for dominance, but it was a battle she lost as you lean her back against the bed, running your free hand through her hair.

It wasn’t long until you two had to part for air, Jill was laying under you, your hands on either side of her head. You were both panting, a soft smile painting your features. “Well, officer, how’d we get here?” Jill could easily overpower you if she wanted, but instead she rolled her eyes and chuckled, her lips and cheeks red. “Never thought you’d want this.” Jill admits. You tuck some of her hair behind her ear, letting your hand rest on her chin.

“Of course I do. You mean the world to me, honey.” The petname had Jill becoming more and more submissive by the second. She wanted to relax, she wanted you to help her relax. Whatever was about to happen next, Jill wanted it.

“Please, Y/n…” You run your thumb over her lip, chuckling. “Please what, Baby?” You knew what Jill wanted, the look in her eyes told you it all. “Keep kissing me.” It was a command you’d happily follow, your lips smashing against hers. Her lips were soft, plump, slightly chapped, and had you forgetting about oxygen the second your lips touched. One hand remained by Jill’s head, while the other ran down her side, stopping at her waist. Her hands were cupping your face, bringing you just that much closer to her.

Jill bites down on your lower lip, causing you to gasp and let out a moan. “Jill…” Her tongue invades your mouth, Jill getting to explore your mouth whilst your tongue lay flat in submission. As much as you would’ve loved to stay like this forever, Jill was the one who needed the pleasure, and you were going to give it to her. You pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two. Jill’s brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but you interrupt her.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be relaxing, officer.” You grab her triceps, pulling her arms down to the bed. “Can we take this farther, baby?” You ask, silently begging for her consent. Jill was shocked by your dominance, she had always been in charge of herself, yet here you were taking complete control of her body and she loved it. Jill nods, reaching up to pull you in for another kiss but your grip on her arms prevented her from doing so.

“I’m gonna need you to say it, baby.”

“Fuck yes, Y/n. Please.” Jill was on the verge of begging, she wanted this bad and it was clear to see. With her consent, you grab her wrists with one hand and the other slips under her top, your cold hand causing her to shiver. Your hand ventured up her shirt until it hit her bra, your fingers tracing in-between her boobs. Her breath hitched, a shaky breath leaving her when you fingers would occasionally break their path to caress over her covered boobs. Her hands kept trying to break free and touch you, and you had to fight the urge to laugh each time your hand had to stop hers from touching you.

“Do I need to tie up these pretty little hands? They’ve got a mind of their own.” You were expecting Jill to stop moving her hands, but you had underestimated just how much that sentence had affected her. She wriggled her wrists against your hand, chuckling. “Such a tease.” You tsk at her, grabbing a pillow at the edge of the bed and you take off the pillowcase, tossing the pillow somewhere across the room. Using the pillowcase, you tie her hands together, just tight enough for her to be confined to them, loose enough to untie quickly should you need to.

Now having both hands free, you worked on removing Jill’s tops. Her blue top was quickly discarded, getting tossed on the floor a few feet away from where you two were. You leaned down to Jill’s level, planting a quick kiss to her lips before moving down, nipping and sucking at the most sensitive parts of her neck until you knew there would be marks. They would be visible, you both knew that, but neither of you cared. Your hands felt Jill’s body, yearning to know what it would feel like if all of her clothes were discarded. Jill’s sighs and moans as you explored her body, occasionally focusing somewhere that you knew felt good to her, was music to your ears. She was completely submissive for you, allowing you to see an entirely new side of her.

“Look at you, melting under my touch. Tell me what you want, Jill.” You rested your hands just inches away from her boobs, feeling the rise and fall of her chest. Jill knew you were dragging this out, toying with her until you couldn’t resist anymore. “I want you, Y/n. Fuck, I need you.” She was on the verge of begging, her need for you evident as her clit throbbed and her body tingled even at the slightest touch. Her nipples were rock hard, her bra doing little to suppress the two mounds visible under her tank top.

“Well then, guess we better get this top of, yeah?” You reach up and untie Jill’s hands just long enough to remove her top, tossing it aside. You worked on taking her bra off next, unclipping it with ease and tossing the now removed onto the growing pile of clothes. You stared at her boobs in awe, your fingers brushing over the small bruises and cuts that scattered her chest. She was beautiful, even after all that you two had been through she still managed to look flawless.

Her hands now temporarily free, they tangle themselves in your hair, pulling your head down until your lips collided with hers. Jill smiles into the kiss, gasping when your hands grasped her boobs. Your hands worked wonders on her breasts, pinching and rolling her sensitive nipples until Jill was a gasping and moaning mess beneath you. You pull away from the kiss and chuckle at the sight under you, grabbing the pillowcase and pinning Jill’s hands above her head.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh? Just let those pretty arms rest, baby.” You tie her hands back together, letting them rest above her head. Jill pouts, the sight of her under you, bottom lip stuck out slightly, enough make your pussy clench around nothing. You wanted her, and you wanted her now. You kiss her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone, pausing when your lips reached her boob. You smirk, glancing up at her and winking as you took her nipple into your mouth. Jill gasps and sighs, wanting nothing more than to rest her hand on your head and push you down farther. You sucked and nipped on the sensitive mound, relishing in the sounds and movements coming from Jill.

You rest your knee in between Jill’s thighs, Jill desperately grinding her clothed pussy against your knee. You begin to work on taking off her pants, your mouth still focused on Jill’s boobs. God, you couldn’t get enough of them… they were perfect. Once Jill’s waistband was off, you unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off; tossing them onto the pile of clothes. You could see a wet patch in Jill’s underwear, pulling her thighs apart to get a better look at how desperate she was.

“What about your clothes?” Jill asks, noting that she was almost naked while you were still fully dressed. “Let’s focus on you first, baby. Then we’ll worry about me.” Your finger traced a scar on her thigh, and you looked up at Jill to see if she was comfortable. “Is this okay? We can stop if-“

“Keep going, Y/n. Please.” You nod, hooking a finger in her underwear. You were ready to taste her, to feel her cum all over your fingers, you wanted Jill to feel the best she’s ever felt. Pulling the soaked garment down, your eyes widened upon seeing her dripping cunt. She was already so wet and you’d barely touched her. She wanted this just as badly as you did. You studied her naked body, noting each and every scar and mole that she had. Her cheeks and nose were cherry red as she watched you gawk at her body, your hands slowly inching closer and closer to her pussy.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Jill. I can’t wait to taste that pretty cunt of yours.” Jill let out a sudden moan as your pointer finger slid over her clit. Her hips bucked involuntarily, a desperate “Please…” escaping her lips. You lean down, your hot breath now hitting Jill’s clit. She waited impatiently for your tongue, trying her best to keep her hips still until you had started. It wasn’t long until your patience faded and your tongue ran across her clit, earning a loud moan from the brunette. She was so sensitive to even the slightest flick of your tongue, your back arching as you licked a stripe up her pussy, sucking eagerly on her clit.

Your hands rested on Jill’s thighs, preventing her from squeezing your head with her legs. Your tongue moved down to taste Jill’s entrance, eating her out like you’ve never had a meal in your life. Jill’s thighs were strong, and despite your best efforts you still felt your head getting smushed between her thighs. You couldn’t complain though, you were in a position you could only dream of being in—and you were going to make sure the both of you enjoyed every second of it.

Your hands left her thighs, one resting on her hip while the other busied itself with Jill’s pussy; taking your tongues place at her entrance while your tongue moved back to her clit. Jill could barely form a coherent sentence, the feeling of your tongue and your fingers sending her closer and closer to the edge. “Y/n-fuck, I’m close.” Instead of speeding up, you pull away, leaving only your finger to trace agonizingly slow around her clit. Her brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to complain, but you silenced her by shoving a finger deep into her hole.

She let out a half-moan, half-scream as your fingers began fucking her as deep as they could. “I want you to cum all over my fingers, baby. Can you do that for me?” Jill nods frantically, her hips thrusting to meet the fast pace of your fingers. Your lips smash against hers, Jill tasting herself on your tongue and it squeezes past her lips and into her mouth. She could feel the knot in her abdomen growing as your other hand went down to her pussy, your pointer and middle finger rubbing her clit.

You part from the kiss, resting your foreheads on Jill’s as she met her end, her back arching into your chest as her pussy clenches around your fingers. She screams your name, her head falling back into the pillows. You kept pumping your fingers into her through her high, eventually slowing to a stop as Jill relaxed into the bed. She was panting, her eyes closed and her head sinking into the pillows. You pull out, bringing your fingers to your mouth and sucking them clean. You untie Jill, tossing the pillowcase aside.

You collapse on the bed next to Jill, your own cunt still throbbing as you chose to ignore it and wrap an arm around the brunette, pulling her closer to you. “Thank you, Y/n.” You nod, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “No problem, Jilly. You did great.” You ran your fingers through her hair, smiling down at her. “You did great, too. I love you, Y/n.”

Your hand cups Jill’s face, tilting her head so you could gain access to her lips. “I love you too, Jill.” You press your lips against hers, smiling against her. When you two part, you start collecting Jill’s clothes and handing them back to her. You didn’t want to stay here for too long, but hey, at least you’d die a happy woman.

“Once you’ve got your clothes on we should go, okay? We’ll find Carlos and then you can pay me back.” You shoot Jill a wink and head to the door to wait for her. Little did you know, Jill was already planning how to repay you.

***

I’ve never wrote same sex smut but hey, venturing onto new lands helps improve you. I hope you enjoy your slice of Jill Valentine, @alyhorse6 !! Thanks for reading, love ya!

[hellafluff]

Currently obsessively thinking about a silent hill from Mary's perspective. Starting in the hospital, the nurses replaced with doctors, faces blacked out except for white shiny gnashing teeth. She only has in her pockets a note written on hotel stationary that says I'm Sorry.

Escaping and meeting a young man, cute and a lil awkward, who says you look a lot like his girlfriend Maria, and shes missing too? Can we look for her together?

Hes... sweet, a bit quiet. He gets very close to Mary often, pushes her boundaries, but this is all weird and strange and maybe hes just scared. When she mentions it, however, he makes a rude remark abt Just Wanting To Help Her but backs off.

They get seperated when the Red Pyramid Thing, unchanged in this version, comes and attacks them both, but chooses to persue him.

Laura is still there, and when Mary and her meet they cling together. She talks about an awful, ugly man she met earlier, and to watch out for him. She helps guide Mary through a maze like area before the Other World sets in and separates them.

The monsters in Mary's Silent Hill are almost all larger then her, and many masculine in appearance. They attack her head, try and choke her. Certain ones cough and gasp, arms thrashing wildly and thrashing on the floor when knocked down. Some seems to have exposed, black lungs that stutter to breathe. If Angela and Eddie are the same in this version, then their boss fights remain the same. The Abstract Daddy just as horrifying to Mary as it is to Angela.

Every reunion with the man, hes different. Less nice, more haunted looking. He starts to call her Maria, and barely acknowledges her if she corrects him. Following his advice leads to darker and more dangerous areas. The Red Pyramid keeps coming and chasing him away, but shes always collateral damage when that happens.

Eventually, she makes it to the hotel. Hes waiting for her in the hotel room, haggard, almost unrecognizable from the man he was when they first met. He has a monologue about how she's been sick, and hes been trying his best to be there for her. She doesnt understand, she doesnt know him, shes NOT Maria! She never will be. She starts coughing.

He makes to leave but at the last second turns, and hes a monster now. Large, fleshy, imposing, always trying to suffocate her under thick hands. Upon his defeat, two Red Pyramids arrive and stab at the dying thing over and over until finally impaling themselves.

There are different endings still. She remembers her disease, and her murder, in most of them. In the best ending she leaves the town with Laura, likely still ill, but alive again. In one of the worst, she wakes up in the trunk of a car, as water begins seeping in.