#but now i realize not only is that take boring and bland

[samioli]

honestly. its very funny to me that finding out my father did a very bad thing like. 16 years after the fact made me grow to appreciate other takes on Manfred von Karma other than "he's an abusive monster"

me and franziska are shaking hands over here 🤝

[popamolly]

‘PRETTY GIRL!’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. lucifer gets jealous and wants to remind you that you belong to no one but him.

warning. smut, overstimulation, established relationship, you and lucifer are married, alastor gets flirty with you, lucifer is a soft dom, vibrator, squirting, semi-public sex??, please don’t fuck where people eat/make food lmao, 18+ minors dni, kinda proofread sorry

author’s note. this is a 500 followers special! thank you all so much for the constant love, enjoy sinners.

𖤐 MASTERLIST

Lucifer and you had been frequenting the Hazbin Hotel ever since the tearful reunion between father and daughter. You didn’t mind, in fact, you encouraged it not just because you thrived off seeing your step-daughter Charlie and your husband happy but also because you would take any excuse to step out of that dreadful palace Lucifer and you called a home. It was just so boring and bland there where as the Hazbin Hotel was always lively and filled with some life threatening chaos that was exhilarating.

Now that you were back at the Hotel, you helped around whenever you could with enthusiasm. You were in charge of hanging up the banner that welcomed the new sinners but alas, the fixture was to high and your darling husband wasn’t anywhere in sight to help you.

As if sensing your distress, Alastor appeared from the shadow on the floor next to you with a wide grin, “Would you like some assistance, your majesty?”

“Yes, yes thank you.” You allowed Alastor lift you up onto his shoulder by your waist so you could tape up the banner. Once you found your balance, you began to quickly tape up one corner of the banner, trying to ignore the way Alastor’s fingers grazed along your thigh as he held you in place.

This was all a spectacle to be sure because you had no doubt that the radio demon could have manifested into something taller to help tape it up himself but you were sure this had something to do with his resentment toward your husband— though their feelings toward each other were mutual, “A little to the left Al…perfect, thank you.”

“Hoho, what is this?” The sound of your husband’s voice had you turning your head slightly to look at him just as Alastor set you back down on your feet with a knowing grin.

“Well, I—”

“I was only helping this darling damsel in distress as her husband was no where to be found,” Alastor’s grin widens as he turns to you with a respectful bow of his head, “If you need anything else, my dear. Anything at all. Do not hesitant to ask.” His staticky tone left a hint of suggestiveness that you picked up on and it left Lucifer practically seeing red. You cursed yourself being so caught up in helping Charlie that you didn’t mind accepting Alastor’s help for the simplest of tasks.

As you looked at Lucifer you realized that you should’ve maybe gotten a ladder before you even thought about letting the radio demon touch you because now you were going to pay the price for it.

And pay you did.

“W-Wait, Lucifer..!” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pure bliss as Lucifer rocked his hips into you even though you already came You both still had a whole task of things to do before the new sinners arrived at the hotel but Lucifer couldn’t wait. The moment you stepped into the nearest room, which was the kitchen, he pounced on you. He laid you on the marble island counter, fumbling with his pants belt.

“What were you going to tell me? Not to worry about that freaky bastard?” Lucifer loomed over your figure with that playful grin, his tongue sticking out as he spread your legs wider for him, "What's wrong? hm? I bet he wishes he could fuck you like this.”

"I—fuck— was going to say that he was only helping me!" You part your lips, "P-Please, right there—!"

“Was he now?” Feeling that you were about to cum, Lucifer picked up the pace, his hand around your throat as he ruts into you ruthlessly. He was so pissed, so jealous— how dare that radio demon flirt with you? Touch you? Who did he think he was?

"You hear that?" Lucifer brought his hips back only to snap them forward again, the squelch sound that came from how wet you were had your whole body heating up, "Listen to how wet you are and that’s all because of me."

You felt that coil within you about to snap with an orgasm. Your legs trembling and toes curling as you felt it approaching fast. Lucifer was not holding back tonight and the overstimulation you felt had your mind going into a haze, "please, please, please!"

"c'mon gorgeous," Lucifer let out a low groan, tossing his head back, "fuckkk, cum for me again."

At his words you came, a small scream leaving your throat as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Still coming down from your high, Lucifer gives you a couple of seconds to recover before moving his hips again. He materializes a vibrator in his hand before placing it directly onto your clit.

You shuddered, hand moving down to grip his wrist as tears escaped your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, "Lulu, p-please—!"

"I know your limits," Lucifer says with that prideful smile, his voice dominating, "Move your hand."

Your move your hands to grip your thighs, the built trust between you was enough for you to see this mind blowing pleasure through, "W-Wait, I'm going to— ah~!"

Lucifer lets a glob of spit leave his mouth, you felt it hit directly onto your naked cunt, watching as his saliva coats your already soaked clit and slides down the sides of his length before pressing the vibrator into you harder, "You're going to cum for me again."

You shake your head, pathetic sobs escaping past your lips, "I don't think I c-can Lu—!"

"Yes you can sweetheart, and you will," His words cause a shiver to go down your spine. "Look at this sloppy pussy taking my cock so well."

You look up at Lucifer with pleading eyes, your hand resting on his chest as if to push him away, your nails pressing tiny crescents into his skin, "I'm g-going to c-cum—! Don't stop, r-right there—! Fuck!"

The sight of you crying and succumbing to the pleasure was exhilarating in Lucifer’s eyes. His beautiful wife was a sobbing, drooling, trembling mess before him. You were dick drunk and high off pleasure, your words coming out in broken fragments.

Just as he was getting flustered at the way you were presented before him, he couldn't help but think about Alastor in so close proximity to you. Had he thought about you in this way before? That question alone made Lucifer’s mind come up with endless possibilities, making the jealousy rise within him as his blood boiled.

He thrusted into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room as he made sure to angle his thrust, repeatedly hitting you in all the right places. He pressed the vibrator impossibly deeper into you, making you arch your back with a sudden scream,

"L-Lucifer!"

With one final thrust, Lucifer had sent you spiraling over the edge as you squirted around his length, making his thighs and the counter wet with your essence.

Lucifer pulled out of you quickly to slap his cock against your clit, rubbing it against your folds harshly to relish in the lewd sound before thrusting back into you slowly to cockwarm you, "There you go love, good girl.”

You trembled, a string of hiccups leaving your mouth as Lucifer laced his fingers with yours, leaning down to kiss you sweetly as if he didn't just fuck you dumb,

"You did so well for me, darling."

Meanwhile on the other side of the wall sat the bar Husk was currently stationed at with Angel, who’s jaw was nearly on the floor at the sounds that just came from the kitchen, “Did we just hear the big boss man and his lady gettin’ it on in there?”

“Nope,” Husk denied it. After all, ignorance was bliss, “I didn’t hear a thing.”

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

[yanderambling]

thank you both so much!! i decided to mix these up a bit so have Adrian being jealous over reader bullying someone else (and then doing something about it...)! i hope you like~ also: i changed the gif for... reasons, sorry lol i swear this won't be a thing okay bye enjoy <3

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 2.2k

you can read the original post here!

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, breaking/entering, violence, mild gore, suggestive shit too ygi

Adrian watches in stunned horror as you crowd another student against the wall of the school hallway.

You lean your face close to theirs, some sweet poison dripping from your tongue, and they laugh nervously. They keep pressing back against the wall, as if they want to get away from you.

What an idiot. Doesn’t this moron see that they're being blessed in this moment? Don't they know that others would kill to be in their position?

Adrian feels the wooden bento box lid crack under his fingers.

He'd struggled not to assume the worst when you hadn't been at your spot to pick it up today, but now he just feels like a fool for harboring hope.

How could this happen? How could you do this to him? How could this person be more important than his homemade lunch? Than him? Have you gotten bored of him already? What does this dimwit have to offer you that he doesn't?

He's standing in front of you before he realizes he'd moved.

It's even harder to watch up close- your sparkling, predatory eyes tracking every uncomfortable shift of your victim, your body closing them in, making them feel trapped.

Oh, how Adrian aches to be your prey again.

Luckily, it only takes few seconds of awkward hovering before you register his presence.

"Oh- ha, shit. Hey," You tap the other student's shoulder, despite their full attention already being on you, "you've met my mutt, right? Just a sec."

You turn to face him, one hand still on the wall just above the other student's shoulder. Adrian blessedly can't focus on it over the euphoric mantra of my mutt my mutt my mutt echoing in his head.

Your fingers brushing over his as you snatch the lunch away is just enough to break him out of it.

"Great, fuck off now." You turn back to the other student as you jam the box into your bag.

No.

No no no no no.

That can't be it. He can't just leave you here to be swept away by some bland bambi wannabe, resigning him to forever trailing behind, vying for the scraps of your cruelty. No, he can't have that. He can't live off of that.

Stricken by a new sense of panic, Adrian can do little more than remain uncertainly by your side, leveling an unnerving glare at the other student as he imagines every single way he'd like to take them out of the equation.

"I like this jacket." You remark with an infuriatingly flirtatious edge.

"Th-thanks." The student stutters, flinching when you pick an imaginary piece of lint off their arm. Adrian clenches his hands into fists. "Uh, it was a birthday gift, from- from my parents."

A knowing smirk curls your lips as you nod in faux interest (Adrian can tell). "Yeah? Looks expensive. I wonder what else your folks got you?"

The other student starts to look even more uncomfortable, shifting on their feet as their eyes dart around in search of an escape route.

Oh. So that's your plan, skim off their birthday haul? Of course.

Now that he thinks about it, Adrian recalls that this student is somewhat notorious for having wealthy parents- but, hell, Adrian's parents are definitely richer than theirs! Why didn't you just come to him? (Because you have no idea; he certainly doesn't dress like it, he walks to school, and it's not like you pay him too much mind outside of the lunches and entertainment he provides anyway.)

"I can give you money."

You slowly turn your head to face him, a dangerous edge to the movement that sends a thrill down Adrian's spine.

"Did you not hear me before? I said fuck off."

Adrian's gut clenches unpleasantly, torn between his instinct to obey you and his desire to stay the object of your attention.

The latter wins out pretty quickly.

"...no."

Your entire demeanor shifts.

A manic, incredulous sort of smile spreads across your face as the challenge fully registers. Adrian notices your unoccupied hand flexing beside you as you turn to face him fully. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so wild, so feral. The force of your stare is enough to have him cowering, ears flattening as his tail tucks firmly between his legs (more to hide his tenting crotch than out of fear).

Your voice is menacingly level as you say,

"The fuck did I just hear?"

Adrian is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating.

He's completely frozen, his throat clicking as he struggles for something, anything to say, to get that intense glare off him but also please dear god don't look away-

"Uh- I, ah- I- I didn't- um-"

Brrrriinngg!

Adrian flinches as the bell rings, and he just barely sees the other student ducking under your arm and scurrying off to class.

"Fuck!"

You slam your fist into the concrete wall, causing Adrian to flinch again, though he stays rooted to his spot in front of you.

"See what you did? Stupid fucking mutt..."

You shove past him roughly, and the pain of his shoulder colliding with the wall is beautifully complemented by the residual warmth of your body against his.

He watches in shock as you stalk down the hall and disappear from sight.

He can't believe he did that. He can't believe he's still standing. He wonders what would've happened if the bell hadn't rung, if you two hadn't been on school grounds...

A shiver surges through his body at the thought, and he has to physically shake himself to return his mind to the issue at hand.

Crisis averted.

For now.

Throughout the day, you corner that student exactly five more times. Adrian manages to interfere with every single one.

It's at the end of the school day, after you've told him off rather disappointingly for getting involved again (and you don't even give him a good punch for his trouble), that Adrian decides he needs a more permanent solution.

It isn't hard to follow your new target home, god knows he's had plenty of practice, and their security's not much trouble either. It's remarkably robust for a home system, but Adrian is a lonely nerd with too much time on his hands and practical experience. Dismantling it takes less than an hour.

Once he's inside, it's just a matter of scribbling a threatening note in unidentifiable handwriting (stating, in no uncertain terms, that they shouldn't even think of going near you again if they know what's good for them), hiding in their closet to take polaroids of them asleep, removing a lock of their hair to attach to the note alongside the polaroids, and leaving it all on their desk for them to find in the morning.

He's got it down to a science at this point.

The rest of his night is spent outside your window, watching you sleep and wishing things would go back to normal.

When it's still only your friends at your usual spot the next morning, Adrian feels disappointment weigh him down for the rest of his walk.

But, when he gets to school, he sees you openly scanning the hallways. Alone, no new victim in sight.

It seems they're trying to listen, at least. Emboldened by the lack of competition, Adrian hurriedly brings you your lunch.

You still dismiss him almost immediately.

He's tempted to defy you again, if only for you to give him a second glance, but he really doesn't think he could handle the rush again this soon.

Instead, he watches from a distance as you continuously try to track your new target down, and they consistently evade you.

He has to commend their effort- going to classes without textbooks, hiding in every nook and cranny when you passed, they even ate their lunch in the bathroom- it's looking like they might just be able to comply.

Until school lets out, and you catch them sneaking around the back.

"Hey! You have not been easy to find. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're avoiding me."

Adrian stays hunkered in the shadows as the other student stiffens and slowly turns to face you.

"Leave me alone."

The demand is so quiet, it's mostly lost to the ambient hum of the town around you.

You pull a familiar smirk and sidle closer to them, confidence emanating from your every movement. "What was that?"

They suddenly stumble backwards, just barely saving themself from overbalancing as they shout,

"Leave me alone!"

Your eyes widen at the outburst, and Adrian notices you checking for new witnesses as you raise your hands defensively.

"Woah, woah, what's the-"

"Just- just leave me alone! I know who you are, okay? I-I know what kind of person you are, the- the things you do, and I don't- I don't want anything to do with you! Okay? Or- or your creepy fucking friend, either!"

"My wha-?"

"I don't- None of it! Listen- my-my mom's a lawyer, you know? She could have you arrested for-for harassment, or worse! So just- just leave me alone!"

They turn and flee before you can get another word out.

You're left standing stunned, your hands clenching into fists as you fully process this rejection, this humiliation, this complete and utter undermining of your power.

You can't just go after them, you're not willing to test that whole "lawyer mom" claim, but every second you spend idle stokes the fury smoldering within you.

You need to purge it. You need to take it out on something.

Adrian steps around the corner.

"You."

That one word is enough to make him melt into a puddle.

He's helpless to do anything but stare wide-eyed as you storm over to him. He doesn't even brace himself for the punch, falling to the ground with a sharp groan.

"What the fuck did you do? Huh? What'd you do you little fucking creep?"

You punctuate each question with a kick to his prone form, forcing him to release a litany of moans containing equal parts pain and ecstasy.

This, this is how it's supposed to be; your undivided attention on him, your complete focus on touching him, on making him feel. He's the only one you should want to treat like this, to devote your time, your energy, your passion to.

"Can't keep your fucking nose out of my business, can you?" Another kick. Adrian keens. "Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now, you stupid mutt?"

Yes yes yes.

Another kick, this one landing somewhere on his head. As he feels blood trickle into his eye, Adrian briefly wonders if he's died and gone to heaven.

A solid foot to his stomach tells him he's very much still alive, but with it comes a heady lightness spreading throughout his whole body. Another and he feels like he's floating on the high of your touch, your anger, like he could sink into it and be wrapped up in the warmth of your rage. Another and his vision starts to white out. He's known no greater pleasure in life than surrendering to your furious whims, nothing else has ever felt so right. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

Then the kicking stops.

Adrian instinctively whines at the loss, a high whimper lingering in the back of his throat as his head shoots up to search for you.

You're already stomping away, still muttering quiet curses (though Adrian can't hear them over the blood rushing in his ears) and too far off to catch his pitiful mewling. He doesn't take his eyes off you until you round a corner, and even then his gaze helplessly lingers on the space you had occupied.

He stays laying there long after you leave, blissfully basking in the afterglow of your abuse (he doesn't think his shaking legs would support him for awhile anyway). It isn't until he hears a car start nearby that he forces himself, ever so slowly, to make his way home.

He sneaks in with little trouble, rushing to the bathroom to hide away and admire your handiwork.

Deep, angry bruises are already forming all over his skin, some home to lightly bleeding cuts. Adrian presses on each one as he finds them, committing them to memory as he bites his cheek to keep quiet (it's a losing battle).

Loathe as he is to disfigure your art, he knows you won't have the chance to create more if someone finds out (nobody else could possibly understand the bond you share, so intimate and complex as it is), so he begrudgingly cleans the wounds and patches himself up.

It's a familiar process, almost habit by now, and after the bandages and makeup and careful positioning of clothing, nobody would suspect he'd so much as tripped.

But he knows.

He reminds himself every other second while he's camped outside your house that night, methodically fidgeting with every injury as he works his way across his body. He unconsciously applies extra force against the bruises littering his thighs, unable to tear his gaze from your sleeping face.

He wants to do more (god does he want to), but he can't. He could never.

Not without you.

He'll simply have to settle for torturing himself in the meantime, refreshing your marks so they stay effective, just until you get another chance to do it yourself.

When he sees you at your spot the next day (now carrying a lot of extra cash on the off-chance you decide to empty his pockets), he doesn't even try to stop his tail from wagging.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

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[mrsdarkandyandere7]

New Dynamic

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter wants to start a life together but you seem awfully reluctant. He doesn’t like it.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

You’re in the kitchen, leaning over the counter as you cut some vegetables for dinner. You have your AirPods on, so you never heard the door opening nor do you see Peter pressed against the wall, work bag still in his hand as he lovingly gazes at you. 

You look good, too good. Like you belong there, at his apartment, in his kitchen, making him dinner. It’s almost like a dream.

He quickly puts down the bag and silently reaches towards you, back hugging you. You practically jump from the small scare, but you relax as soon as you realize it’s just Peter. 

Your adorable boyfriend. 

Peter removes your ear pieces and presses a soft kiss on your cheek, his hug getting tighter. 

“Hey there. How was your day, babe?�� you ask, continuing your task. His fingers sneak towards the waistband of your leggings and you swear you can feel butterflies on your belly from his touch. 

“Boring without you.” he replies, nuzzling your neck. You let out a giggle upon hearing his response and he gives your waist a small squeeze. 

“I’m serious, without you my day was absolutely bland. Wishing I was here with you instead.” his voice sounds serious and you know he’s telling the truth.

He never lies to you, you know that. 

“How was your day then?” He curiously asks. You shrug your shoulders, pulling away from him to place the vegetables on a pan.

“Also boring. Sent some job applications but haven’t gotten an answer yet.” your answer makes Peter frown, his arms crossing as he watches you work on dinner.

He knows exactly why you haven’t gotten any answers, he’s made sure to call each company to let them know that you’re no longer applying for the jobs but it’s a matter of time till someone reaches out to you with a job offer. 

“My company has offered me the chance of working remotely from home. That means more time for us to be together. You’re always in the apartment and that way, so would I. I start Monday from home.” he casually drops the information, eyes carefully analyzing you. 

“That’s awesome, babe! You’ll get to relax a bit.” you exclaim, rushing towards him to briefly hug him before returning to the stove. 

“Yeah and I was also thinking that we should keep this dynamic, you know?” he mentions.

“What dynamic?” you absently ask, grabbing a spoon. 

“Us together in the apartment. Me working and you doing the house chores. It’s a good balance.” you look at him with confusion. 

“I mean, yeah but only until I find a job again.” you say, feeling a bit uneasy over the way Peter talks about this. 

“But you really don’t have to. Find a new job, I mean. I can provide for both of us, you know that.” you almost drop the spoon, shocked at his words. 

“No, Peter.”

“No? Why not?” he furrows his brows, annoyance tingling him. You don’t answer and he starts losing his patience at you. 

“What? You don’t want us to spend time together, is that it?” he angrily throws and you involuntarily take a step behind. 

“It’s not like that, Peter. I just… I don’t know.” you hesitate.

“You don’t know? Babe, this is a great chance to move on to the next step. Have a domestic normalcy. Living together, getting married and then starting a family. Why not take the chance? I thought we always wanted that, didn’t we?” he adds, looking away from you as if you’ve hurt his feelings. 

It does make you feel bad, you’re lucky enough that your boyfriend offered to let you stay with him when you lost your job. He’s financially taken care of you ever since and in return you take care of all the domestic aspects.

And it hasn’t been bad, not at all. 

You’re just not sure if right now it’s the right time to take that next step, but you have a feeling that Peter will wrestle you into agreeing, if you dare to say no. 

“We’ll try it out then, okay?” you try to reconcile, giving Peter a small smile. You seem to have said the right thing because his whole body language changes, becoming lighter. 

He lunches towards you, pulling you into his arms as he lifts you in the air, kissing any part of your skin that he can reach. It’s so goofy that you laugh, thinking everything is fine now.

Once you get a new job, you’ll explain it to Peter and reason with him, he’ll understand.  

Positivity fills you but little do you know that Peter will never let you back on your word. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[floralcavern]

Look. I have been a Chalastor shipper for literal years. All the way back when the pilot came out. I adored them and actually thought there was a chance they’d become canon. I’ve always had so many concepts in my head for them. 

This chaotic neutral force there to fuck with the other character only to realize he actually wants to see her succeed. 

The idea of Charlie successfully saving a sinner and suddenly, Alastor sees her in a whole new light. He looks at her and she’s glowing. Just.. AHHH. It is so cute!

But, uh… things are a bit complicated now. So.. I guess let’s talk about it. 

But, obviously, I can’t talk about Chalastor without talking about their two most popular ships. 

I’ll start with Radiodust, since I have the least to say about it. 

I never got it. Alastor has always been very clearly a sex repulsed asexual, and Angel is a horny ass pornstar. Plus, I’ve always shipped Huskerdust. But I’ve always liked the dynamic idea of Alastor and Angel, but I cannot for the life of me think of them in a romantic light. 

Now Chaggie..

For the longest time, I didn’t even know they were dating. The pilot kept it very on the DL, so I never even realized until months after the pilot when someone told me they were canonically dating. 

And even after that, I couldn’t ship them. 

But now the show is out, and they have more scenes! Surely-

Oh, no, they’re still bland..

They are one of the most boring, vanilla ships.. ever. And I want to love the ship, I really do. And I’ve tried. But I cannot. They just.. aren’t my thing. But that doesn’t mean I hate the ship at all! I just.. don’t go out looking for fanart or comics of them. 

But Chalastor just scratches my brain in such a nice, satisfying way. It always has. 

But, now that the episode, Dad Beat Dad is out.. things are complicated. 

At first, I thought they were pulling the “Lucifer thinks Alastor is flirting with Charlie and was ready to go all ‘shotgun dad’ on him, but then is relieved to realize she is with Vaggie.” Especially because of the way Alastor touched Charlie’s shoulder and leaned in. But, no, that’s not what they did. When he met Vaggie, there didn’t seem to be relief, but awkwardness to meet the girl his daughter is dating. 

So that means he never considered the idea that Charlie and Alastor were together. So that means from the very beginning he saw Alastor as competition as the fatherly figure in Charlie’s life. Which.. says a lot for how they appear to others within universe. Because if I saw someone touch someone’s shoulder like that and lean in, I’d assume flirting. But that wasn’t an option that Lucifer even had in his mind. So, how do they appear to seem to the characters in this universe? They look like a father and daughter..

And that’s just.. woof. Not great. 

And don’t even get me started on Chalastor shippers making this into a daddy kink. 

The most I like is the memes that say “Your daughter calls me daddy too” because it’s funny, but anyone taking it seriously and making it into an actual thing is just.. I’m not a fan. Especially since Alastor is a sex repulsed asexual. 

Now, I know I’m going to get people saying “Oh, Alastor was just acting that way to fuck with Lucifer!” and I know that, but the fact that the very idea that they could have a father-daughter relationship and everyone in universe taking that idea seriously says a lot and makes shipping them.. complicated. 

So, what now? Well, I’m still going to ship it. Just.. tentatively. And as for everyone else.. do whatever you want, idc. 

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. 

[kpop---scenarios]

Linked (1)

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Y/N

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Mean people, Language.

A/N: I'm back baby! I hope you all enjoy the first chapter!!

"Miss Y/N?" A woman says, breaking you out of your concentration of looking at tikok’s. 

Startled, you look up and standing before you is a very pretty, well dressed woman holding files between her petite fingers. "Are you ready for your interview?" She asks. 

Taking a small breath, as you nod your head and smile at the woman. "I'm Ava, and I'll be conducting your interview on Mr. Byun's behalf." She says, walking through the office hallways. It's so plain, the white walls just dying for at least a pop of color, or even a picture of some sort. Ava leads you into a plain white room, nothing in it but the necessary items. Did you really want to work somewhere so boring? You were lost in your thoughts again after answering only a few routine questions. 

"I think you'd be a perfect fit for this job." Ava smiles. You'd only been talking for 15 minutes before she decided. 

"Thank you." You smile. 

"I'd like to offer you the position as the Senior Data Analyst. You'd be working directly under Mr. Byun." She tells you. 

"Sure. Yes, thank you so much." You say. One thing checked off your list. Find a job, find an apartment, and get settled in this new town. Luckily you had an apartment view right after this interview, and considering you were hired on the spot you had an extremely good feeling. 

The apartment sucked, but you took it anyway. You would try your best to make the small studio apartment feel like home, but you weren't quite sure how. You weren't the most stylish, if you really had to describe yourself, you were quite bland. You knew the clothes you wore were a size or two too big, but you had no urge to change yourself. For what, or for who? You had no one in your life to care about, you didn't even care about yourself.

You laid in your bed that night, staring at the popcorn ceiling, as you remembered why you moved here in the first place, and your heart broke all over again. 

**

Slowly and quietly you pressed your ear to the bedroom door at this party. 

"Stop telling Y/N she has a chance with me. Please, it makes me sick to even think about it." You hear Hongjoong laugh loudly. "I can't even listen to her talk for more than 30 seconds at a time. I don't know how you do it. Her voice is so fucking annoying." 

"Right? I swear to go sometimes I feel like my ears are bleeding. And you should see her when she cries. So fucking ugly." You hear Maya giggle. 

"And is it just me or is she fucking dumb? How could she love me for all these years and not realize how repulsed I am by her?" He asks. 

Ouch. 

“I know math isn’t her best subject but Christ, can't she add up all the things you don’t do around her and see you’re not into her, and never will be? I mean, you try to leave the room whenever she enters." Maya laughs. "So there's no chance of you leaving me for her?" 

"You think I'm gonna leave a goddess like you, for that thing? Come on, baby, you should know me better than that. Plus, she doesn't have a set of tits like these." He laughs. 

As quickly as the hurtful words began, they stopped. You weighed your options of what to do but your body still felt too numb to move. 

You stood there, your ear pressed against the door feeling your stomach sink. You wanted to run away but it was like your feet were glued to the floor. 

The floor that made your knees feel weak as you turned the door knob and pushed the door open to see Maya, on top of Hongjoong. 

The music that was once pounding in your ears was now quiet. It was so muffled as you began to only hear your own shallow and fast breaths. You could hear and feel your heart pumping at a pace you were sure was off the charts, while also slowly ripping into tiny pieces. 

You felt like you couldn't breathe as his hands gripped her body. They hadn't heard the door opening. 

The walls were suddenly caving in as he slowly slid his fingers up and down her curves moving over her ass to squeeze it. 

Tears fell from your eyes as you watched him touching her in ways that you had once dreamt about. 

Your face begins to burn in complete embarrassment. The fucking betrayal you felt from someone who said they loved you. Maya was supposed to be your best friend. She was the one who was by your side when you cried, wondering why he didn't love you back. She held you as you sobbed into her lap, she wiped your tears away and always had comforting words for you. She would laugh at his Instagram page with you and acted as if she didn't even like him.

But here she was ripping you apart with him for their own enjoyment.  

**

Tears streamed from your face as you rolled over in your bed. You hated remembering that day. The day you lost your best friend. It hurt so bad and you know you needed to move on but that's always easier said than done.

The next morning you woke up, exhausted and not ready for the day but you had your first day of work. You'd tried to look up Mr. Byun last night, but there were no pictures of him anywhere. You thought that was a little odd, but didn't chalk it up too much. You got ready for the day in record time, putting on your too big skirt, with your too big shirt and oversized blazer. You put your hair up the best you could and avoided all makeup. 

Slowly, you walk into the building, making your way to the 35th floor, where your office was supposed to be. The entire floor was empty when you arrived. Just the way you liked it. You popped in your airpods, started your music and got to work organizing the 5 items on your desk. It took you roughly 3 minutes. You glanced at the clock, 6:55am. You still had 35 minutes until you were technically supposed to start, but it never hurt to get a head start. You worked for a little bit, listening to your favorite songs before you barely noticed a few people entering their cubicles. You mostly ignored them, offering a small nod of acknowledgement before getting back to work. You hadn't noticed anyone walking into the all glass office in front of you, until you felt your heart tug. A feeling you had never once felt before. You looked up and saw the most handsome, stone-cold looking man you'd ever seen. You couldn't take your eyes off of him, it was like you were drawn to him. 

"Handsome, huh?" You hear, breaking you out of your trance. 

"Who? What?" You say, looking up. Standing in front of you is a thin, blonde bombshell with a smile that could make you forget any worry in your life. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cough. She was so beautiful, it made you extremely nervous. 

"Hi, I'm Lisa, I work in that cubicle to your left." She says with a smile. “I just wanted to bring these over for approval from you, and introduce myself.” She explains, showing a small pile of papers in her hand. You were listening to her, but you had a hard time keeping yourself engaged in the conversation. Your eyes continued to dart towards the man who took your breath away and Lisa definitely noticed. She let out a small giggle to regain your attention. You swiftly looked back at her, giving her an apologetic smile. 

 "That's Mr. Byun.” She tells you. “Do your work, don’t get in his way and don’t question him and you’ll be just fine.” she tells you. 

“He looks mad.” You say, taking a quick glance at him before looking back to Lisa. 

“That’s just his face I think. He always looks like he’s got a painful stick up his ass." She whispers. 

"Why did you start whispering?" You asked. 

She sets the pile of papers on your desk, looking back towards Mr. Byun's office and looking back at you. "He hears everything." She whispers again, walking out of your office with a smile.  

Your eyes turned over to Mr. Byun, you were having a hard time turning your gaze somewhere else. There was just something about him that was driving you crazy. You watched as he shouted at someone on the phone, the veins in his neck and hands popping out intensely. His dark brown hair flowed perfectly on his head. His suit fit him perfectly, you could see the muscles all over his body. 

Suddenly he slammed the phone down onto the receiver, you were surprised it didn’t break with the amount of force he used. He rubs his eyes before running his fingers through his hair. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours without hesitation. Your heart pulls toward him. You wanted to get out of your seat and slip your tongue into his mouth. You wanted to be near him, holding him and you didn't know why. His eyes are still on yours as he walks out of his office, heading straight for you. Your heart begins to pound as he gets closer to you. 

"Who are you?" He asks, abruptly. You're looking directly in his eyes, you can’t help but almost get lost in them. They’re so dark, like they're filled with pure hatred. 

"Uh, I'm L/N Y/N. I'm your new Senior Data Analyst. " You respond. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Byun." 

"We’ll see about that. Get to work Miss. L/N." He says, walking out of your office and back to his. Your eyes meet again as he brings down his shade, his eyes still glued to yours. 

The rest of the day, you couldn't get him off your mind. You had a hell of a time trying to focus on any of your work. You just wanted to see him again. Anytime you let your mind wonder, it went to him immediately. You felt like you loved him but you didn't even know him.

After you had finally finished all your work, it was dark outside. You let out a big, loud yawn as you stretched your body from your desk. You gathered all your belongings and turned the lights out to your office. As you walked by Mr. Byun’s office, you noticed the lights were still on. You peaked in through a small patch of glass that was uncovered from the shade and saw him sitting at his desk with another extremely handsome man, sitting across from him. You knew you shouldn’t have been peaking in, but your curiosity got the better of you. Within seconds, Mr. Byun’s head whipped around, his eye’s shooting daggers towards you. 

You let out a small screech before you quickly take off to the elevator, hoping that either it comes fast or he doesn't come out of his office after you. You get onto the elevator and press the close door button as quickly as you can.

You made it home that night without incident and without Mr. Byun yelling at you for being nosey. You just needed to mind your business and not do that again. 

You dreamt of him that night. His hands gliding over your body, his tongue licking you everywhere, how he tasted, how it felt to have him on top of you. You woke up in a puddle of sweat the next morning. You had so wished it was real. 

The rest of the week went by, and he paid you no attention at all. He didn't even bring up your little snooping issue. Whenever he had a request from you, he sent Ava to ask you. Obviously he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself. You hated that. You wanted to see him again. 

He kept the shades of his glass office down, further avoiding any contact with you. It wasn’t until the next week that you’d finally be able to see him again. Lisa had ever-so apologetically placed a stack of papers on your desk, minutes before 5pm. You weren't one to just leave the papers for the morning, and honestly, you had no one waiting for you at home so why wouldn't you stay late and do them. Around 8pm, you’d finally finished and you were carefully planning Lisa’s murder for the next day. You were exhausted. You grabbed your coat off the back of your chair and rubbed your eyes while you walked towards the elevator. You were so tired you didn’t even look in Mr. Byun’s office as you passed it. You had expected him to have left hours ago anyways. You pressed the down button on the wall and waited silently. It wasn't until a few seconds later you felt someone standing behind you. The doors to the elevator ding, sliding open. You turn around and see him standing there, an unimpressed expression plastered on his face. 

He looks at you and at the open elevator doors, motioning for you to get in. your brain finally clicks and you get on as he follows behind you. You press the button for the first floor and prepare for an uncomfortable and silent ride down 34 floors. Mr.Byun takes a deep breath as he stands next to you, your arms just almost touching. “Why are you here?” he murmurs under his breath. You barely didn’t quite catch what he had said. 

“What was that?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. 

He sighs. Turning towards you, taking a few steps until you're backed into the wall. He places his hand next to your head, leaning himself in closer to you. 

“I said.. Why are you here?” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. “Do you have any fucking idea what youre doing to me?” he asks, breathing heavily. His head moves closer to you, his lips narrowly escaping yours as he places his head onto your neck, inhaling deeply. It was like he couldn't get enough of your smell. Before you could say anything the elevator dings, and he moves away from you as fast as he can, walking out into the lobby, leaving you there wondering what the fuck just happened.

**

Over the next several weeks after that incident, he kept trying his best to ignore you. Everyday. Occasionally you’d catch a glance of him, and the eye contact was so intense you could feel heat running through your entire body. Everyday that you didn’t see him, your heart hurt more and more. You couldn’t explain why but it felt like it was breaking you. You knew it was ridiculous, he was your boss, how could you love him? 

You didn't have an answer to why you did, but you did and you really didn't want to.

After working at your office for a few months, you decided you needed a change. You were tired of looking frumpy and exhausted while everyone around you looked bright and amazing. You needed to reinvent yourself, and spice up your life and you needed to do it now or you wouldn’t do it at all. That weekend you took the plunge. 

You went to the salon first. you got your hair done something that was better suited for you, a new style and new color. You went to the mall, and completely changed your wardrobe from the baggy clothes you were wearing to things you normally would never wear. You bought outfits that actually fit you, and showed off your body instead of hiding it. You bought proper bras and sexy panties. You felt good and different, but a good different. You couldn't wait to showcase the new you. You had never felt so confident in yourself before, and you loved it. 

Monday morning, you strutted into the office, your dress hugging your curves, your hair bouncing as you walked. You could feel all eyes on you as you walked to your office. You had never felt everyone watching you in a good way before and it felt amazing. You placed your jacket on the hook and sat in your chair to get to work. Lisa walked into your office with her mouth hanging wide open. 

“Girl.” She squeals. “You look phenomenal!” She eye’d you up and down, admiring your outfit.

You could feel your cheeks get hot from the compliment. “Thank you.” you laughed. “It feels weird, but good.” you tell her. 

“It should feel all good, girl. You look great.” she smiles. “Also Ava is out today, so i've been instructed to tell you that Mr. Byun needs to see you in his office.” She says, side eyeing his office.  

You try your best to swallow the lump in your throat as you nod your head. You hadn't seen him when you walked in, and you anxiously wondered what he would possibly think of your new look. You stood up, smoothed out your dress before heading towards his office. You stood in front of the door, breathing heavily as you knocked lightly on his door. 

“Come in.” you hear from a gruff voice. 

You turn the handle to his door and walk in and it’s like you can’t breathe. He sits there, his hands in his lap, leaning back in his chair. Fuck he looks so good. 

“You wanted to see me?” you ask. 

“You changed yourself.” he points out. His eyes trail your body up and down as he admires you. 

“Just a few things. What did you need to see me for, Mr. Byun?” you ask. You wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. Your heart was racing, you could feel the sweat covering the palms of your hands. 

“Call me Baekhyun.” he says, getting out of his chair. He walks towards you, almost in slow-motion, like he was gliding towards you. You step back as he gets closer to you. His head reaches out, caressing your face. 

“It’s getting too hard to fight, Y/N.” he whispers, looking deep into your eyes. “I don’t want to want you.” 

“I don’t want to want you either.” You admit. 

“You feel it too? The pull, the urge, the desperation?” he asks. You can’t speak, you can only nod your head. “Then it’s true.. You are my mate.”  

“I'm your what..” you ask. Before he can answer, his door swings open. Baekhyun backs away from you and in walks a brunette bombshell. She was absolutely stunning and you’d never seen her before. 

“Jennie.” Baekhyun says, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asks. 

“Poor girl looks frightened, Baeky.” she smiles. “I hope you're not scaring your staff too much.” she giggles. 

“Who are y..” you begin before she cuts you off. 

“Oh!” she laughs. “I’m Jennie Kim.” she announces, moving closer to Baekhyun,  wrapping her arm around him. 

“I’m his fiancee.” 

[viviennevermillion]

finding solace

notes: i don't feel like this one lives up to my usual standards of writing i hold myself to because i wrote it while experiencing writer's block and mental health issues but i really wanted to write something.

also if you like my works, feel free to commission me!

word count: 2.7k

contains: leona kingscholar x gn!reader, comfort, reader has depression

warnings: symptoms of depression, non-sexual nudity (taking a shower together)

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun broke through the blinds in an almost grotesque, unnerving way. Or at least, that was what it felt like for you. Seeing Leona of all people be more active than you was a bad sign by itself, but your own mood was something you could hardly ignore at this current moment. The more time passed, with you idly laying in your boyfriend’s bed, covered only half by the blanket and the bedsheets a mess from the tossing and turning you had done throughout the day; the worse you started to feel. But anything you could do seemed as pleasant of an idea as climbing a whole mountain right now. You scolded Leona often enough, but this was probably what he felt like all the time. Minutes seemed to turn into hours and you wanted to cry but the tears were far from coming out. You knew crying could sometimes make one feel better but it seemed like not even that was an option for you now. 

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, tired and exhausted; then setting it down and trying to rest but ultimately realizing destiny was hellbent on keeping you awake, no matter if your eyes became red and felt like they were burning. So you gave up and picked up the phone again. What was the point of anything right now?

You wished there was at least something you were looking forward to in the near future that would motivate you to do something or make you feel happier. But all there was, left a bland taste in your mouth and a hopeless expression of defeat in your eyes as you gazed up to the ceiling in a desperate search for anything that wouldn’t bore you to death. Leona wasn’t a big help either. He had his own depressed state of mind to deal with and right now that consisted of laying in bed next to you, not doing anything as well. You tried to snuggle closer to him but no position you found in his arms brought you the comfort and happiness you were used to. It was warm in Savanaclaw and you wished the blinding sun and the heat would be replaced by a cool wind of the night, even if it was just 10 minutes.

Leona had told you a story once of one of the kings of the past who ran away from the palace after a coup when he was just a child; collapsing in a merciless drought and destined to die of thirst and heatstroke had it not been for two kind strangers who’d take care of him and look after him. That was how you felt at this moment. Like you were left in a barren wasteland as the sun was looking forward to grill you alive, even though Leona had put up a ventilator in front of the bed so you’d be more comfortable. 

You could see from the corner of your eyes that he was watching you, silently, as the minutes passed and nothing happened. You wondered what was on his mind. He gave you your answer soon enough.

“You don’t seem to be doing too well there, herbivore”, he commented and turned your head to face him. You simply shrugged, not knowing what to respond. Leona’s expression darkened. He was used to this attitude from himself, but seeing you like this; with the same lack of energy and optimism as him; made his heart ache. He had long since given up on himself but in his eyes you deserved so much. You deserved that beautiful smile he slowly but deeply fell for and you deserved to feel excited and hopeful. 

He hated to see you like this. If anything motivated Leona on days like these it was trying to make sure you were at least content. Ever since he had confessed to you, he had been coming to classes more frequently and trying to fill his day with more activities. He could hardly motivate himself to do anything for himself but doing things for you gave him that final kick needed to get up from the bed and stay up.

He absentmindedly looked at you for a while; lying next to him with your eyes closed. Leona was lost in his own thoughts and when his attention shifted back to you, he noticed there were tears staining your cheeks now. Your slowed breathing indicated that you had fallen asleep at last and Leona propped himself up on his right elbow to press a kiss to your forehead. Get well soon, herbivore…, he thought and gently caressed your cheek before getting up from the bed.

When you woke up, Leona was nowhere to be found. You tried calling out to him but he didn’t respond. Just as you sat up to scan the room for signs of where he might have gone, the door to Leona’s room opened. Your boyfriend entered and tossed his leather jacket loosely onto the desk chair. You hadn’t even woken up by him leaving.

“Where did you go?”, you asked curiously. “You’ll see”, Leona gave you a reassuring smile, “I got a surprise for you. But first, we should take a shower. It’ll do you good.” You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted motion and kicked the bedsheets off you. “Are you trying to say I smell bad?”, you groaned and Leona rolled his eyes. “No. The counselor they sent me to after I…uh…got a little too enthusiastic about winning the Spelldrive Tournament; well anyway, they said that sometimes a cold shower, a walk or somethin’ like that can already make a big difference in my mood or whatever”, he ran a hand through his hair. That’s a very mild way to say ‘overblotted’, you thought but refrained from commenting on it. “By the way, I got us food”, Leona handed you a bag with a bunch of meaty snacks, “I even got you a vegetable.” You reached inside the bag, inspecting the contents. “Leona, that’s just a whole cucumber.” “If ya don’t want it, I’ll give it to someone else, herbivore.” You glanced at him for a moment before starting to eat the cucumber. Not what you would have picked for lunch, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

“Anyway, you comin’?”, he asked and gestured towards the bathroom. You nodded weakly before Leona went to grab some towels, but you didn’t find the energy to get up; scrolling through the same five apps on your phone again but having run out of anything new to look at. “Herbivore?”, Leona called out and entered his room again, to find you with one leg and one arm off the bed; trying to motivate yourself to just get up and join him. He sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the desk. “Your mandatory hydration”, he commented dryly as he handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow at him but drank quite a bit of it, finding that you’ve needed this after all. As soon as you had finished, Leona just picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, gently putting you down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“Thank you”, you sighed, grateful that Leona had done for you what felt like it’d take you another 30 minutes. When you stepped into the shower, you wrapped your arms around Leona’s waist and rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes once more as you let the water run over you. “It’s cold”, you complained as Leona took care of everything for you. “It’s supposed to be, genius”, he mumbled as he applied the shower gel to your skin, “otherwise you’d probably fall right back asleep and wake up feeling even worse. Trust me, I know.” The last sentence was nothing more but a quiet whisper but you picked up on it anyway. 

You remembered the past few days and how you could hardly tell what happened on which day of the week because they all seemed to blend into one another like a never ending loop of mediocrity. You remembered the stress and your worries for the future. And suddenly you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Quiet sobs left your lips and Leona’s ears instantly perked up at the signs of distress coming from you. 

You gasped in surprise as you were met with the cold water from the shower head directly into your face. “What the fuck, Leona?”, you hissed. “It got you to stop sobbin’”, Leona shrugged and you noticed that he was right; you were becoming aware of your surroundings again and your breathing calmed down a bit. Leona lifted your chin up and looked into your eyes. “I love you, herbivore. So cheer up. Don’t make me worry so much, alright?”, he said and patted your head.

He hugged you from behind and his voice became softer as he nuzzled your neck. “I love you so much. Don’t forget that, okay?”, he whispered and pressed kisses to your cheek and your neck repeatedly until you had stopped crying, “I can’t stand to see you like this.” To see you like me, he thought but kept that to himself. “I hope I can lift your mood a little”, Leona gave you that soft smile only you got to see and kissed your lips gently.

Once you stepped out of the shower, you felt refreshed and already a lot better than before. You helped Leona dry off his hair, a smile finding its way to your face when you saw how the water pearled off his ears and how they flicked when you were rubbing them with the towel. This didn’t go unnoticed by Leona. He crossed his arms with an annoyed expression. “Why is it that when you feel like shit and you smile for the first time again, it’s always from treatin’ me like an oversized cat?”, you could hear the pouting tone in his voice and a chuckle escaped you. “You’re cute”, you smirked and booped his nose. “Stop that”, he warned but leaned into your touch immediately when you started to caress his ears with your fingertips, sighing softly, "the things I put up with to see you happy..."

“So, what was that surprise you wanted to show me?”, you asked once the two of you had gotten dressed again. “Put on a jacket. Something warm”, Leona grabbed a small backpack and you could hear the jingling of keys, “we’re gonna go on a small trip.” Curious about where he would take you, you followed him out of the dorm. Outside of the Hall of Mirrors, Leona gestured towards a Magical Wheel which had been parked at the side of the building. “I rented that one while you were slumbering”, he tossed you a helmet and smirked at you, “hold on tight or I might just lose you and never look back.” You poked his side in response to his teasing.

“You should put on a helmet too”, you crossed your arms. “I’ll be fine”, Leona said, putting the key into the engine and starting up the vehicle. “Leona.” “Fine, I’ll wear the damn helmet”, he rolled his eyes and then grinned at you, “I’ll keep it on for the rest of the day and watch you complain that you’re not getting any kisses.” You sighed but got onto the vehicle behind him after Leona had put on his helmet. You wrapped your arms around Leona's waist, trying to adjust to the movement of the Magical Wheel. It was a little intimidating at first, given how different it was to a regular car; but Leona kept you safe and even though he teased you a little, you could tell he made sure not to drive any faster than you were comfortable with.

As you made your way down the path on the hill that Night Raven College was located on, you could see the village on the island as well as the ocean; the light of the sun now seemed a lot softer and bearable than it had been about an hour ago. You could feel the pressure of the wind as Leona drove the vehicle across the island, giving you the scenic tour of the area. 

The two of you stopped by the lake and the forest for short breaks, laying down in the grass next to each other while gazing up at the vibrant green of the trees and the red apples that grew on them. You could hear the humming of the birds and watched the clouds pass by. “That one looks like you”, you pointed at one and poked Leona. “How the fuck does that look like me?”, the second prince raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning your overactive imagination. “It’s pretty”, you just shrugged and Leona leaned over you, smirking and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I can live with that answer”, he chuckled and his ears twitched while he did this. 

You kissed his lips gently and could feel Leona smile into the kiss. 

The sinking feeling in your chest you had felt for the whole day wasn’t fully gone yet, but every new thing you saw and every word Leona spoke to distract you seemed to soothe the pain a little and made it something you could deal with and overlook with ease. 

Your final stop was the beach near Royal Sword Academy. The sun was already beginning to set and you had taken your shoes off to walk along the shore, holding Leona’s hand. He squeezed it gently and gave you a reassuring smile, as if to tell you silently that things were going to be okay eventually. You’d figure things out together. 

He then grabbed your hand and took a bite out of the hot dog you had bought for yourself. “Hey”, you protested and Leona smirked at you. “Sorry herbivore…but surely you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “take some pity on me, the bird took mine.” He gestured towards the seagull in a couple meters distance, picking at Leona’s meal that it had stolen from him. “Prince Leona Kingscholar, king of the beasts, bested by the common seagull”, you exclaimed with a false notion of drama and tragedy in your voice. “I could grill that little bastard here and now if I wanted to”, he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, “I decided to have some mercy today.” “Sure”, you laughed and raised your eyebrows. 

The waves crashing onto the shore felt cold when they met the skin of your feet but in a way the sensation also helped to ground you. “Feeling better?”, Leona asked and you could hear worry in his voice; something he only felt comfortable showing around you. “A little”, you nodded and picked up a seashell from the sand, inspecting it as you turned it in your hand. “Do you feel ready to go back to the dorm?” You hesitated for a moment, then shook your head. 

Leona sat down in the sand, pulling you onto his lap and resting his head against yours as the two of you watched the sunset together. “That’s fine by me”, he said, wrapping his tail around you, “we can stay here for as long as you like. I don’t mind.”

You remained silent for a while, running your fingers along Leona’s tail absentmindedly. “I love you”, you whispered and leaned back against his chest. “I love you too”, Leona said quietly, closing his eyes as the wind brushed through his hair and the sunset made his skin feel a comforting warmth. Things weren’t easy on days like these. But both of you knew, come what may, you always had each other to lean on. Things had changed from the days of being alone with your thoughts and having to sort out your feelings by yourself. Whenever one of you was feeling down, the other usually found the strength to get up and drag both of you to a place that gave you comfort. 

“You know, I think I’m going to keep the ride for a while”, Leona nodded towards the Magical Wheel with a smile on his face, “nothin’ much to see here after 3 years of being on this island but I’ll make it work.” You nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Leona”, you whispered and squeezed his hand, "for everything."

[galactic-glamour-girl-posts]

Animaniacs VS Crunch: WHY are they insane-y?

Despite being the creator (in-universe) of the main trio of Animaniacs, Lon Borax himself is a relatively obscure, and more often than not, absent character.

In "The Warners' 65th Anniversary Special", it's revealed that before he drew the Warner siblings, he created Buddy (again, only in-universe).

Buddy (both in-universe and out) was seen as a boring character, suggesting that Lon Borax himself perhaps wasn't the most creative person. In that case, isn't it strange that he went from creating a character as unremarkable and bland as Buddy to characters as boisterous and bizarre as the Warners? Especially, as it turns out, in such a short amount of time:

"Congratulations, Borax, you’ve discovered a cure for insomnia. That’s the most boring cartoon I’ve ever seen. Do you realize we have to show this cartoon to the front office tomorrow?"

This was Weed Memlo's response to the Buddy cartoon. When Lon tried to defend himself, claiming that is wasn't "that bad", Weed was having none of it:

"No! It’s worse! Fix it! Add more characters! Poof it up! Stay up all night if you have to! I want funny! If you need me, I’ll be at the smokehouse."

Weed Memlo (a director at WB) demanded that Lon work overnight, all the while he would be lounging around at a restaurant. Now, if you know even the slightest bit about how to make a cartoon, you'll know that it takes time...ALOT of time. As in, it takes over half a year to make just one episode of most cartoons, amount of time. So you'll also know that, even if he wasn't starting from scratch, expecting Lon to create new characters and heavily modify an existing cartoon in just one night is absurd.

link

What Animaniacs is depicting here is an overt example of an animator being forced to partake in crunch culture. And how did this affect Lon? Well, in his own words:

"I worked all night on that cartoon. I was exhausted, and then...and then I remember it was exactly 2:43 a.m. on the morning of February 30th, I-I started drawing these weird characters!"

What seems to be heavily implied here is that the stress and exhaustion he experienced due to crunch drove Lon mad, and that's why the Warners are as insane as they are.

As we know, the Warners go on to appear in more Buddy cartoons, then get their own shorts to star in (even if they didn't make any sense), but end up locked in the water tower once the studio didn't want to deal with them anymore. After a few brief escapes or instances of the studio temporarily letting them out (either to loan them out to other studios to make more money or to have them star in war propaganda short films), they escape in 1993 and end up starring in their own TV show.

But Lon Borax?

He went nuts.

Yeah he doesn't get better, they just put him in a home.

This is all portrayed comedically, but unfortunately crunch culture actually does have harmful affects on animators and people who work in the video game industry in the real world. 100-hour weeks, cases of sickness and depression, just really awful stuff. However, I don't think this was the writers necessarily making light of crunch, quite the opposite.

Weed Memlo got so fed up with the Warners he quit directing their cartoons. They constantly annoyed everyone who worked at the studio. Pulling pants down, scaring their crushes, playful teasing, stuff like that. They never did anything too harmful, in fact sometimes people just ran away screaming before they even did anything. This was their response to Wakko simply asking "Can we eat with you?":

Still, the studio certainly wasn't peaceful with them around. Most of the human actors were clearly bothered by them (although toons like Bugs and Daffy seemed to be more lenient to the Warners). It wouldn't have been like that if the Warners were sane. Sure they're kids (toon kids on top of that) so they probably still would've ran around and misbehaved here and there regardless, but not to the extent that they're known for.

The Warners made people afraid of going to work, and probably stalled if not halted production of a lot of what the studio was working on (Plotz even says "The Warners had single-handed brought this studio to a screeching halt.") The studio would've saved themselves a lot of trouble if they had given Lon more time, prioritised their worker over money.

But they didn't.

Watching this episode, it feels like writers were trying to get that message across. That the studio deserved to have to deal with Warners; that they were the consequences for partaking in crunch culture. The Warners had been serving large doses of karma for almost a full season at that point, only this time, their "special friend" wasn't just one person.

It was the corrupt industry that birthed them in the first place.

[zzzleepy]

HOSTAGE : ticci toby one-shot

notes: i wrote this at work while bored, it’s so stinky and short. BUT ENJOY

cw: swearing, stockholm syndrome (?)

You and Toby stayed in a small house miles from anybody. Truth is, Toby stayed there and you were his “guest”.

Toby kept you in a bland room, there was a window with a view of dark trees, a small closet that held nothing, a bed of dust, a wooden chair, and you, with rope around your limbs to keep you from moving.

Minutes passed like years, you had nothing else to do but imagine a better life for yourself. A life where you hadn’t been taken by a man and forced to be his pet. Toby never harmed you, he’d talk to you about his life. Something about that situation was incredibly sad for both parties. You realized early-on that Toby just wanted a friend but his perception of friendships was skewed, that’s why you’re tied up.

You lowered your head until deep footsteps sounded from down the hallway. You sighed, Toby’s back and wants to see you. This part was important, you weren’t allowed to comment on his stories, you could only nod your head or listen to him in still silence. The door to your room carefully opened and Toby peeked his head inside.

“Hey.”

Why did he always talk so casually as if you’re not a hostage? He should’ve killed you by now and in some odd way you felt that today was the day.

Toby pulled up a chair to sit in front of you. His hair is matted and messy, his eyes are sunken in and show no emotion, his clothes are bloody and mudded, his mouth guard is hung around his neck and his cheek scar is disturbingly distracting.

“How are you?” He smiled wide with a small chuckle.

You stared at him in disbelief. Is he serious? He never asks you questions. Does he expect you to reply? He just watched you, looking at you with that damn smile.

“Come on. Speak.” His stern tone made you shake.

“I’m fine.” You stuttered out. That’s the first time in months that you’ve spoken. Your voice was hoarse and sounded unknown to you. The silence was thick and your breaths were heavy. He just looked at you.

“Okay. Good.” He never took his eyes off of you. You felt like a lab animal in his presence. He could do anything to you and no one would know. Does anyone know you’re here? Does anyone care?

“I always wonder what you’re thinking.” His smile fell.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently. I couldn’t fucking focus on my kill earlier, you were the only thing on my mind.” He ran his hands through his hair with a groan. The frustration lingering on him was intense, it filled the air around you. You were afraid to make your presence known, but you were fighting off the urge to speak.

“You’re terrified of me and I think I love you. How fucked is that?” He laughed loudly. You shrunk, you wanted so badly to run. Your breaths quickened and his words echoed in your head. What the fuck is he talking about? Is this some sick joke?

“I’m being serious, you know?” His eyes met yours and his voice softened. He must’ve taken notice of your panicked state. You quickly looked down at your legs and felt heat rush to your cheeks. This had to be the most fucked situation ever. What kind of kidnapper falls in love with their hostage?

In the middle of thought, you felt a gentle touch on your chin. Toby carefully guided your view up to look at him. Your eyes studied Toby carefully. This was the first time you’d take notice of his freckles, his cracked lips, the scars that decorated his face, and his deep brown eyes. Right now, he looked at you with a certain softness.

“No.” You croaked. You squirmed against the rope.

“What?” He looked at you blankly. You couldn’t find emotion in him. Anger? Dejection?

“Toby, no. This isn’t right.” You stared so far into his eyes, you could fall. A certain heat started to rise in you, maybe it began from the frustration you felt of being locked in a serial killer’s house for months. You wanted him to know how you felt.

“You can’t kidnap me, tie me up then leave me to rot inside of a room for months! Then to come to me and tell me you love me? What kind of sick weirdo are you?” You breathed, deep. Toby just looked at you with big eyes. It felt good to talk and even better to tell Toby off.

Toby furrowed his thick brows, he was clearly thinking about something. You tilted your head in confusion. You knew barely anything about this guy, he could be thinking of how to kill you right now. You looked down at your legs again, but this time you were readying yourself for death. Toby quickly put a hand out to cup your cheek and tilt your head up. In a matter of seconds, Toby leaned in and his lips found yours. Nothing about this was right but it didn’t feel wrong. You slowly leaned into the kiss until Toby pulled away.

“Forgive me. Please.” Toby finally spoke. His apology was demanding.

[yaksha-lover]

Cupiditas

Vamp!Vil Schoenheit x Reader

cw: jealous/insecure reader, hurt/comfort

Sometimes you forget just how big Vil’s world is. When it’s just the two of you, it’s easy to block all of that out. He doesn’t feel like a celebrity, he just feels like Vil.

Sitting at the side of the studio, you’ve never felt more out of place. Large, blinding studio lights shine down on Vil as he poses, gorgeous as ever, with two stunning models. The three of them look natural together; they belong in each other’s world. Vil’s newest movie is a vampire one after all, maybe that’s why he looks so comfortable with them. He doesn’t have to act so much.

You wonder if Vil takes blood from people like these models. He refuses from you and yet… they aren’t the bland and boring he considers you to be. They’re special and beautiful like him. People like them belong at his side. People worthy of him.

The producer lavishes praises on the three stars, before announcing a wrap on the shoot. You can’t hear what they say, speaking too quietly from your location, but you catch a smile from Vil at the words of one of the other models.

You don’t understand why you feel this way. Vil isn’t your boyfriend, he’s not even your friend, he’s nothing to you. Nothing that he isn’t to those beautiful models. It’s stupid, why should you even care what he does?

Lost in your own world, you don’t realize Vil is in front of you until he’s flicking your forehead.

“You should know getting lost in thought is rather unbecoming of an assistant, even a temporary one,” Vil chastises lightly, already turning away to double check his makeup in a nearby mirror.

When you don’t respond, Vil sighs quietly and continues, “I’ll just need to get changed out of these clothes and we can leave. I trust Rook has told you what you should do in the meantime?”

“Yeah, I’ll call the driver,” you tell him, pulling out your phone as he walks away. He turns to glance back at you for a second, but seems to change his mind and keeps walking towards his dressing room.

Just as you’re packing up your things, you happen to overhear one of the other models, heading back to their own dressing room. On the phone and talking about…Vil. As his (temporary) assistant, it’s crucial to be informed at all times about his reputation, so of course you eavesdrop.

“Yes, I’m going go talk to him now. I’m so nervous, but I really like Vil. I think he likes me too, he’s been so flirty during our shoots.”

You quickly walk out of the studio, vision blurry. No point waiting for Vil, it’s not like he’ll be coming back with you tonight. You make it halfway down the steps before someone catches your arm.

You refuse to turn around and let him see your face. You’re being childish, and pathetic, but you can’t help the tears that stream down your face.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, with less mockery than you expect.

“…M’not,” you reply, still not facing him. He grabs your chin gently and forces you to tilt your head up at him, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Is someone feeling…jealous?” he asks you with a knowing look and a small smile. Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of you. Still, you don’t exactly want to reply to that.

“Hmm,” Vil gently parts your hair from your neck, “Will it really take me biting you for you to realize that I’m only interested in one person.”

You feel yourself flush, and try to stumble out a retort before Vil silences you with a laugh.

His hand shifts to stroke your cheek, before falling back to his side. He turns and walks towards the limo which just pulled up, only looking back to make sure you’ve followed after him.

“I’m just teasing, of course. You know I wouldn’t take blood from a human like you.”

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN???”

“You know what it means,” he says as he takes your hand and leads you towards the car. You want to be mad at him, but seeing the gentle smile on his face, you forget your feelings and focus on him.

You get to the limo and reach for the front door, ready to get in before you hear another sigh.

“What are you doing?” he asks, exasperated.

You turn towards Vil, confused, before realizing your mistake. You hastily open the door for him, gesturing for his entry: “Sorry, sir.”

He rolls his eyes before grabbing your arm and gently pushing you into the back seat, despite your protests.

“Sir? What’s gotten into you? If I knew making you my assistant would make you this obedient, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

He smirks gently at you when he sees how flustered you become, quickly trying to defend yourself.

“I was just trying to be professional like Rook taught-“

“You’re awfully loud,” he cuts you off sharply, “Seems like you’re feeling better. Do I need to take some blood from you so you’ll calm down?”

You shuffle as far away from him as your seatbelt will allow, and Vil actually laughs. You find that you enjoy the sound more than you thought, and more than you should. He has worked hard, and is he looking a little pale? Maybe he does need blood, to survive of course, and would it be so bad if you were the one to give it to him? No! You chastise yourself for even thinking such thoughts of giving in to him.

The two of you resume conversations about his work before it turns to casual, easy talk of your lives at the mansion. The car ride is long and the day has been exhausting, but Vil doesn’t mind seem to mind when you rest your head on his shoulder and try to fall asleep.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Punching Bags

in which Benji realizes he's in over his head.

cw: violence, abusive training methods, threats, adult/crude language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

Wandering the base hadn't been nearly as fun as Benji had hoped.

It was mostly just empty government-style hallways and locked doors. So many locked doors. Made even more frustrating by the fact that the locks all looked easy as shit, and if he tried, Benji could have any of them open in a matter of seconds. Maybe all of them. He wondered how long it would take him to open every door in the facility if he was really trying. Ten minutes? Fifteen? There was always the chance that a locked door would just lead to more locked doors, but that wasn't really fair to count against him.

But… he wasn't going to do that. No matter how bored he got here. Normally he didn't care too much for following rules, you couldn't make a living as a thief if you did, but Sahota's all-but-outright-stated threat made him think better of it.

If he messed up here, he would go to jail.

He'd already been there briefly, while waiting on a trial, and that had been… significantly less than fun. Benji imagined a state prison would be worse, especially if he was in for literal decades. So, fine. He'd be a good boy and do what he was told, even if their mission sounded made up.

There were a few doors that weren't locked. A decent-sized kitchen and adjacent dining hall. A computer lab that doubled as a small library. A huge, open room with cushioned floors that Benji assumed was the training area.

Eventually, Vic found them and showed them to their rooms. They were down a hall, behind yet another locked door, but Vic gave them keys for this one. 

There was a room for each of them, thank God. Benji would lose his mind if he had to room with one of these doofuses. Joy and Jericho seemed alright, but he never trusted a first impression. Kaius was a classic arrogant rich boy, probably turned into an asshole by parents and teachers who constantly praised his intellect. And Harbor seemed more than a little unstable. The kind of guy who'd snap and stab you in your sleep if you looked at him wrong.

Sure, he'd learn to get along with them; he got along with everyone given enough time, but sharing a living space was a different story.

The rooms were small and impersonal. A little bland for Benji’s tastes, and if he weren't fresh out of a jail cell he might've complained more. It was late, and he was tired from all the new information that had been chucked at him throughout the day, so he fell onto the bed before doing too much poking around.

The next morning, at seven sharp, they all filed into the training bay as instructed. Everyone else was wearing a set of dark gray workout attire.

Shit, did he not get the memo? He hadn't bothered to dig through the drawers the night before, and had just changed into the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, minus the fishnet undershirt. Now he was standing there in a crop top, looking ridiculous.

When Harbor stumbled in, ten minutes late and wearing the same rumpled shirt and oversized jacket he'd had on at the briefing, Benji didn't know if he felt better or worse.

On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one who'd goofed. On the other, he didn't want everyone else to start grouping him with Harbor.

“I see most of you found the training uniforms.”

Benji turned around. Sahota was walking into the room, his face impassive as ever though his tone was full of irritation.

“Right, sorry,” Benji said. “Maybe give us better instruction next time instead of running off? Even just a note could work. Oh, or those little instruction pamphlets that come inside board games, that would've been a huge help—”

“Is this just a game to you, Ruebin?”

Benji gave him an exaggerated wince. “No," he said "I can honestly say that me staying out of prison is a very serious matter. I'm just saying—”

“Then shut up and pay attention.” He sauntered to the center of the group, leaving Benji to throw an exasperated look in Joy’s direction, which she answered with a small grin.

In his experience, the quickest way to bond with someone was by complaining about someone else.

Sahota unzipped his jacket and cast it aside, then turned to face them. He was… actually kind of hot, even if Benji was reluctant to admit it. Warm brown skin and lean muscle. Scars running up and down his arms that served to add an edge to his look, and a tattoo of something—a hawk? Some kind of bird—curling along the side of his neck. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and allowed just enough length to curl at the top, and his eyes were framed by thick lashes. If the guy wasn't such a prick, he might’ve tried to chat him up.

“Today we'll be doing some sparring," Sahota said. "I assume most of you already have some combatives experience, but I'll need a firsthand look to see if your skills are adequate.”

Joy raised her hand. Benji found it adorable how she kept doing that, like a kindergartner excited to learn. 

“So you're going to watch us fight each other?”

“No,” Sahota said. “You're going to fight me.”

Shit. Benji raised his hand. “Ah… exactly how important are these combatives?”

He was more flight than fight. Hell, not even that. As long as his jaw was working, Benji was a talker. He'd avoided countless black eyes and broken bones through simple verbal de-escalation. The few times he had been dragged into a scuffle hadn't gone very well for him.

“It's a matter of life and death.” From anybody else, that would've sounded like a joke, but Sahota was dead serious. “Each potential target will be swarming with guards. If you end up cornered, really cornered, it'll be a fight to survive. Understood?”

Benji swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shoes off. Vic doesn't like the mats getting scuffed.”

Benji crouched, unlacing his boots with a heavy sigh. This was gonna suck, wasn't it? Maybe he should just volunteer to go first and get this over with—

“I'll go first if that's okay,” Jericho piped up. “Might as well get it over with.”

Oh, son of a… well. Great minds think alike and all that. Benji scooted away from the mat, eyes on his brand new teammate as the man stepped up and came face-to-face with Sahota. Their handler smirked—if you could call it that. It was a half-smirk. Quarter smirk. Barely noticeable at all.

Jericho was nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide, all nervous smiles and beefy arms as Sahota sized him up.

“Alright Davis. Come at me.”

“What, right away?”

Sahota hit him.

Nothing devastating, just a little pop on the jaw, but Benji physically cringed at the blow, and Jericho staggered back in surprise.

“If you're caught in a fight, you can't hesitate,” Sahota said. Jericho gave a sharp nod and swung on him, but the smaller man dodged the blow effortlessly. 

“If you don't have skill, you'll need to make up for it with speed. If you know you're cornered, be the first to strike.”

He sidestepped another blow from Jericho as he spoke, sending a sharp kick into his opponent’s ribs.

“You're strong, Davis, but too slow.”

Jericho lunged at Sahota, making to grab him, but their handler dodged that too.

“And you're holding back.”

“I… I don't want to hurt you,” Jericho said, sounding a little winded.

“Your enemy won't feel the same.”

Sahota dropped to the floor, moving quicker than Benji thought possible as he took Jericho’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then pouncing on the bigger man when he hit the ground, wrestling him into a chokehold before he could react.

Jericho tapped out, and Sahota let him up. The whole thing was over in under two minutes, and their handler wasn't even breathing heavily.

Maybe it was a better strategy to go last, when Sahota was the slightest bit tired out. If he got tired at all. Even then, Benji really didn't like his odds.

“I'll go next,” Joy said, stepping up to the mat as Jericho trudged back to his spot on the floor, one hand on his ribs. Benji threw a sympathetic look his way, or rather, a can you believe this guy look.

“Begin.”

Having apparently learned from Jericho’s match, Joy lunged right away, dropping a knee between Sahota’s legs and thrusting her body forward, driving them both to the ground. The move seemed to have taken the man by surprise, but he didn't stay that way for long, engaging with Joy before she could throw an arm around his neck. The two grappled for a moment, but Sahota came out on top. Benji wasn't overly shocked as he released the defeated Joy.

“Not terrible,” he said. “But against a larger opponent you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“That's what guns are for,” Joy panted.

Kaius went next. Small as he was, he was surprisingly good at kicking, and actually almost landed a blow. Benji felt a little vindicated when he didn't, even more so when he was swiftly put into a chokehold. If Kaius was the first one to match Sahota, Benji had the feeling he'd only get smugger.

With Kaius beaten that marked three fights won, and Sahota didn't look the slightest bit tired.

“Are you ready, Harbor?”

“If it means I get to punch you.” Harbor shuffled over to the mat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His multicolored hair, buzzed on one side and long on the other, gave the appearance of a parrot sitting on his shoulder. A feral parrot. Who'd been caught in a particularly bad storm. His height matched Jericho's, but he was scrawny, with a build like the kid from the chocolate factory movie after he'd been stretched by the taffy puller.

“Begin.”

Harbor darted forward, closed fist shooting out and… and actually catching Sahota across the chin.

Their handler seemed just as surprised as Benji was. Of all the people to land a blow, Harbor had got it first?

Sahota recovered quickly, dancing around the next few jabs. Harbor moved like a drunk monkey, slouchy and swaying, but he was fast.

What had he said at the briefing? He had some kind of biotech implant that made him quicker? In that case, completely unfair. Benji hoped he wouldn't have to fight him.

On the other hand, having Harbor on his side in a fight would be a plus. Even after Sahota had landed a few hits of his own, the taller man hadn't slowed down, the half-crazed smile on his face spreading with every blow. 

Which was more than a little bit unsettling. Benji once again found himself glad he didn't have to share a room with the guy.

After what seemed like forever, Sahota managed to get him on the ground, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing, the finishing move that had ended every other match.

Only Harbor didn't tap.

His face was contorted into a snarl, blood dribbling down his chin as his hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His upper lip was starting to go purple.

“Sahota…” Jericho said. “I think he's done.”

Their handler didn't move.

“Sahota.”

Harbor's jaw worked soundlessly, his feet scraping at the ground. A sick fear settled in Benji’s stomach. He wasn't… he wasn't about to watch this guy die, was he? Sahota wouldn't go that far, would he?

His mouth fell open, to reason with the other man, to shout for him to stop, but words didn't come. Beside him, Joy jumped to her feet, striding forward. Jericho was already standing, looking like he was about to charge in as well.

“Hey!”

Harbor's arms fell slack at his sides, and Sahota at last let go, letting the other man fall limp onto the mat as he stood.

Joy bent over Harbor's body. “What the fuck was that?”

“He'll be fine,” Sahota muttered. He was more winded than he'd been after his fight with Kaius, but his expression remained impassive. Not angry, or regretful, just… just a whole lot of nothingness. Like he didn't care at all. He was just doing his job, and he had no room for showing mercy at it.

And Benji was up next.

“Are you supposed to be training us or hurting us?” Benji said, finding words at last. “Is this really what Vic wants from you?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Behind him, Harbor's eyes fluttered open with a groan. Joy offered him a hand, but he swatted it aside, staggering to his feet with difficulty. Sahota watched him limp away.

“You're quick, Harbor, but you're a sloppy fighter,” he said. “However, you're also the only one who didn't tap. Good work.”

“Good?” Joy scowled. “You're a shitty trainer if you think that's a good thing."

Sahota ignored her. “Get on the mat, Ruebin. You're up.”

Oh, fuck me.

Benji chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself to his feet. Everyone here was a better brawler than him, and everyone here was already sporting bruises from their go with Sahota. No way would he escape unscathed.

“Go easy on me,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

“Begin.”

He knew he should follow the handler's suggestion and strike first, but Benji couldn't bring himself to move closer to his opponent. Sahota took a step forward, and he took a step back, hands half-up as if he'd actually be fast enough to protect his face.

“Maybe we should just—”

Sahota swung on him, and Benji jumped back with a yelp, barely evading the blow. Shit!

“Dodging won't always save you. What will you do when the door is barricaded? When you're trapped?”

That was where words came in. “Can't I just offer to go down on him?” he snipped.

Sahota answered with a jab to the jaw that sent Benji’s head snapping to the side, and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as Sahota stalked towards him, holding his hands up in awkward fists, cheek throbbing.

His opponent spun on his heel, sending a kick directly into Benji’s side, which he accepted with a cry and a stumble, arms instinctively rising to protect his head, body panicking and not moving in the right direction quick enough.

“If all you're going to do is cower, you're never going to win.”

Benji grit his teeth, getting his hands back up. He flung a blind punch at Sahota, and was unsurprised when it didn't make contact. The other man took advantage of the opening, planting a heavy kick in Benji's stomach.

He crumpled, retching as the boot sent a spike of pain and nausea through his torso, up his spine. Sahota was towering over him, moving to pin him down—

“Wait!” Benji threw up a hand to shield himself. “Wait, wait, I surrender. Okay? You win.”

Sahota stopped. “You surrender?” he echoed, his voice low. An edge had entered his tone, and Benji didn't like it one bit.

“Your mission is to destroy top-secret equipment owned by a company with enough money to own you a thousand times over. Do you know what happens if you surrender?”

Benji searched for something witty, something he could throw out to defuse the situation, and came up empty handed. “N-no, I—”

He cried out as Sahota seized a fistful of his hair and hauled him to his feet, scalp set on fire by the sudden force, only half-aware of the shouts of alarm from the others.

“If you surrender, they'll want information. Who sent you. Why. They'll do anything to get it. And when you give it up, when you sell us out, Vic and I will do worse. Understood?”

Benji squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as much as the hand in his hair would allow.

“Good. Now stand up and fight—”

“I think that's enough.” Jericho was behind Benji. He hadn't heard him walking up. “Sahota, let him go.”

When he dared to open his eyes, their handler was glaring up at Jericho. But the grip in his hair loosened, and the big guy caught Benji as he fell backwards.

Sahota turned his back on them, silent for a moment. Benji imagined he was contemplating lunging for Jericho, then coming back to beat him up when the bigger man was unconscious. 

“That's enough sparring for one day,” Sahota said at last. “Take the next few hours to train as you see fit. Vic will be around to brief you on individual skill use later.”

Benji clung to Jericho as they left the mat behind. His ribs and stomach felt bruised, and his hands were trembling. Fuck, Sahota was good at making threats that shook him to his core.

“You okay?” Jericho asked, and Benji could only nod. Had anyone else caught what Sahota had growled at him? Did they know how fucked they were if they failed? It was probably better for the overall mood if he didn't tell them. Sure would do wonders for his if he could unhear it.

Sahota started to leave the room, but stopped just short of the door.

“I'm sure you all think I'm a monster,” he said, not turning around. “But when all this is over, when you survive it, you'll thank me.”

Benji watched him go with a barely-suppressed shudder. After today, prison wasn't sounding too bad after all.

[devyuence]

another controversial take: every character is developing at the expense of topmew's

this is going to be an itemized rant and my thoughts are messy rn but sue me, i guess. feel free to raise brows but if you can get to post rants, i can too.

1. boeing should've been introduced episodes ago (not in the latest ep). as much as i liked raymew closure aka ray realizing that mew is not in love with him no matter what, boeingmew would have made even more sense. but then again, if we never had that raymew scenes, ray will not have that character development, progress with sand, and sand's character development.

2. as much as daddy dan (lol) is a plot device for boston to realize or act on his feelings with nick, mew's revenge played a part. he 'somehow' became apologetic, it's evident on his face during the confrontation scene, for stirring up things in his friend group and arguably starting to value things that he used to be so nonchalant about because he is moving away.

3. now that points one and two are established, can you see that the other pairs except topmew are progressing? not only their relationships but the characters are progressing, having arguable character development idk, or developing.

do we have the word "progress" on topmew as a pair?

do we have the word "progress" on top and mew as individual characters?

zero. nada. zilch.

it's like the writing team thought: "ah, in episode 5 onwards, let's develop everyone else except topmew. tone it down aka cut the scenes because people will hate them. tone it down because mew should not overreact in the burning of drawing scene. tone it down. tone it down until the scene drown and disappeared like titanic. tone it down until it goes down the drain."

apologies. i love mew and i am his number one defender but his character in the recent eps is stagnant and the latest one? ooc at that. at the same time, i feel bad that he is straight-forward and knows what he wants but becomes a stagnant character going back in circles. it's like everyone around him starts to have character development or redemption but he is reduced to, according to some viewers, an annoying brat. yeah, this is what happens when you toned down book's crying during his confrontation scene with top showing how he loved top so much as well as not showing more scenes that mew is really hurt and felt betrayed. he didn't have a proper breakdown aka crying scenes on his own but instead jumped on revenge era. the things are not grounded. people cannot sympathize with him because they do not fully know top and mew. they lack screen time to show who they are as individuals and as lovers. but that's just me.

what pisses me off the most is that he becomes a stagnant character and in the process, top is also hindered to progress. i mean, you know that at the beginning, i don't like top but he made his way on my fave list.

top was considered by others as someone without depth (at least that is what majority says no matter how much people explain top's nuances anyway). he is boring, bland, playboy, someone who is smug. i mean, when every character in the show gets to cry out loud and scream their hearts with proper build up except one or two, you will find them boring. book mew crying his heart out in the confrontation scene but was toned down? force top crying about him and mew at the silent disco while discarding the scene where he tried to find someone new but he cannot because he loves mew so much? like why are other emotional and crying scenes have proper build up and more nuanced but top, this is coming from a not-so-fan of top before, and mew do not have?

it's funny because top is reduced to mew's ex or lover (what are they anyway rn?), who (mew) happens to be reduced as a plot device for the character development or redemption of ray and boston, which had a domino effect on sand and nick's character.

ah. my lovely top and mew, especially my favorite, mew. i'm sorry that you are reduced to this which could have been fixed should people have more backbone and your characters have been thoroughly discussed in the writer's room.

anyway, i had low expectations on this show because as much as i liked the director, expectations lead to disappointment. now, im not expecting anything from this show. topmew is barely salvageable and is hanging by a thread. and if we don't see top's trauma next episode but more of NC scenes (i'm okay with it but to use it to appease fans is not), i'm sorry but... heh.

you know what is funny? for topmew to be based on real people, lovers at that, only to be reduced as plot devices and have a terrible state aka stagnant in the recent episode is peak comedy.

[mazeruffleposts]

A Single moment

This first fic of mine was supposed to be much shorter than it actually turned out to be lmao. I just wanted a good fluff fic for my boy Giyuu TTvTT

I tried my best to make it gender neutral, not giving any descriptions about looks n stuff. I hope you enjoy it!!

Content warning: None~ Just Fluff

Word count: 1.9k

Proofread? No

A single moment, that's all it took for him. Just one look and Tomioka Giyuu realized he was absolutely in love with you. As you stand there, wrapped in his spare bedsheets, watching the rain drizzle down from your spot on the engawa with a cup of steaming tea in your hand.

It had been raining since the morning that bled into the night, starting off a harsh storm that rattled the branches of nearby trees so hard they hit the roof of his home. Thunder cracked all around as you two sprinted to his door, drenched and out of breath. Your hair stuck to the frames of your face as you panted inside the entrance. Jumping slightly as a clap of thunder rumbled much closer to the home than you liked.

It took a moment for Giyuu to catch his breath, his breath training coming in handy while he pulled off some of his soaked clothing. You however took several minutes to slow down enough to even think. The run from Shinobu's mansion had been fast, Giyuu practically dragging you half the way there as he told you "It's much closer than your home," and "I don't want you getting sick running all that way."

Without even so much of a word, the rather stoic man disappeared deeper into his home. Returning moments later he held out two towels for you. Making sure you were wrapped up before leading you through the house to the bathroom where he silently ushered you to clean up some and change into the oh-so conveniently placed change of clothes he had laid out for you.

It didn't take you long before you were dried off to the best of your ability, snuggled in the dry clothes while the others hung on the rack to dry. You wandered around, taking your time as you looked for him in his rather minimal home. It wasn't surprising to see he didn't have much furniture or decor, given he was quite a simple man. Though it struck you as odd how empty it was in here.

Eventually, you managed to find him in his kitchen standing over the small pot cooking what you assumed was a stew. A soft hum left your lips as he handed you a bowl full. The steam wafting off as the smell permeated your senses caused a low growl from your stomach. You blush as you thank him.

You both ate in silence, enjoying the calm as the weather outside continued to rage on. Giyuu's mind wandered as he watched you eat with a content smile. He never did give much thought to his own cooking, Shinazugawa had chastised him many times over how "bland" and "boring" it had been the few times he was assigned cook on their duo missions. But the look on your face, the way you seemed to savor every last bit, it made that strange flutter in his chest appear.

That same flutter that only ever seemed to happen when you were around him. It happened most often when you looked at him with those soft eyes, gave him that warm laugh of yours when something he had done amused you. But it was most intense when you would greet him with a smile. On more than one occasion, he had to stop and steady himself as his heart pounded in his chest seeing the genuine joy you had seeing him. He never knew what to make of it, even now as you sat there in front of him. So happy over something he considered a gesture of common courtesy.

Not long after eating, he led you to his spare room with a rather large futon.

"Uzui left it here the last time he had spent the night." He stated in his infamous monotone to your questioning gaze.

"And he never came back for it?" He shook his head, pulling out a spare blanket from the closet as you pulled back the covers more than ready to dive under and sleep.

A loud bang of thunder outside caught you off guard, making you squeal. He shot you a worried look, giving you that adorable little head tilt he only ever seemed to give you. With an embarrassed sigh, you took the blanket and wrapped yourself up tight.

"I've always hated storms like this since I was young... Used to give me nightmares as a kid thinking some monster would come clawing its way into the house at night."

He took a seat next to you on the futon, humming softly in response as more thunder rumbled in the distance. Taking note of how you seemed to relax some to his presence, the tension in your shoulders seeming to leave for a fleeting moment before another crack made you jump and nearly cling to his arm. Pulling away when you noticed how you crowded his space.

For a fleeting moment, he didn't hate the idea of letting you hold onto him. He didn't mind the idea of holding onto you.

Before his mind could catch up to his words, he spoke.

"Would you like me to stay?"

He seemed to be taken aback by his own words, the surprise on your face making him question why he would offer something like that.

But then you gave that soft smile, the one that made his heart thump hard against his ribs, and he's happy he offered.

"I would love that."

There it was again, his heart trying desperately to beat out of his chest. Something must be wrong with him because that shouldn't be happening. He should have brought it up when they were at Kocho's earlier. No matter now, he'll just have to run back there in the morning to get things checked out. That is if the storm calms down enough by then that he won't have to worry about being drenched again

With a soft hum, he stands and makes his way to the door. "I'll be back."

And with that, he disappeared around the corner. Practically sprinting down the hallway to his own room to get his own futon. He grabbed it and sped back to your room, giving a gentle knock on the door frame so as not to spook you with his return. You were already laid under the covers, snuggled in that blanket as you looked up at him.

Without another word, he sat his futon next to yours and got comfortable underneath as well. Only pausing after pulling the covers halfway when he realized he never asked if it was okay to do so.

You must have noticed the worry in his posture, giggling at the way he froze in place as you told him, "It's alright, I don't mind at all."

After a moment, as he let his mind calm down he let out a sigh of relief. His shoulders relaxed as he finished getting comfortable. Soon enough he could feel the silent lull of sleep start to wash over him, the gentle thumping of the rain on the roof aiding him.

However, he couldn't pass into that threshold of sleep that beckoned to him. His thoughts turned to you at every chance they got. Most of them about how truly happy he was to have you there. That you felt safe enough with him to let him lay so close. That you enjoyed his company enough to seek him out any chance you got. And most of all how the color, when normally it was so dull for him, seemed to turn so vibrant when you smiled.

How you seemed to vibrant when you smiled...

What are you doing to him?

And why was he so okay with it?

Another loud crack of thunder pulled him out of his thoughts as you shrieked, scooting yourself closer to him and away from the doors that led outside. Without much thought, in his sleepy haze, he pulled you closer. Oh, how it felt so natural to have you this close to him.

You were shaking as he wrapped his arms around you, poking his head up enough to take a good look at your face as you pulled yourself flush against him muttering a soft 'Sorry.' Giyuu hummed back 'It's alright' as he watched the tension seem to ebb away once you were comfortable again. He continued to lay there, his cheek resting on your head as he held you close. Only noticing that you fell asleep in his hold when your breath evened out.

His fingers found your hair, running them through the soft locks subconsciously as you lay there unmoving. Letting his thoughts run right back to you.

As you two lay there for what felt like minutes, he only realized had actually been hours. Completely and utterly content that time blurred until the sun began to rise. The storm had nearly stopped by now as the sky turned from a black void to a dull grey. Nothing about it though could ruin this moment, however. Even if he hadn't gotten a moment of sleep, he didn't care. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Eventually, though, you began to stir. Waking up in a haze as you looked up at him. Deep blue eyes gazing back down at you with a softness you rarely ever saw come from the rather emotionless man. A deep blush creeps its way from your neck to your cheeks. And here he thought you were beautiful before...

Before you could make any comment on the way his own cheeks blushed looking at you, he pulled away and turned so you couldn't see the way his face burned when he played those few words over and over and over in his head.

They're so beautiful...

He stood up, stretching to his full height as he tried to regain his composure.

What are they doing to me?

Why am I acting like this?

His attempts at calming his nerves were failing. He needs to go and walk this off, but there needs to be an excuse.

"I'm going to go make some tea, would you like some?"

It's a mediocre out...

"Oh, uhh... Yes, thank you."

With a nod, he walks out of the room and down the hall, mulling over his thoughts on why he was acting like this with you. Why do you, of all the people he knows, bring out this strange side of him.

He fills the pot with water.

What is so different about you that you cloud his thoughts?

He sets it on the stove.

When did you make him so nervous and excited to simply be in your presence?

He begins to boil the water.

And why do you make his heart beat that way just by smiling?

He pours two cups, letting the leaves steep for a few minutes. Then he grabs them and heads back to the room.

What about you is so different?

He knocks on the door and notices you standing on the engawa outside the room. Hair messy from sleep, still wrapped in the blanket he gave you. He walks over near silent and holds out one of the cups when you glance at him. With that damn soft smile, the one that made you look so kind, you accept the cup and take a sip. Turning back to look out across the forest outside. The soft light of the morning that made it through the clouds gave you an ethereal glow.

His heart flips, and something in his brain clicks into place.

He loves you.

[psalacanthea]

idk just some DAI Solavellan stuff. Solas POV, 2.6k, Mature.

Three hours of pensive searching and troubled wandering had finally borne fruit.

Ellana had been impossible to find since their tumultuous arrival at Skyhold, a habit which had become her silent protest against what she could not change or control.  Solas understood, but he knew it was not merely suffering that drove her away.  It was also spite and anger, two emotions she felt perhaps more deeply than even he realized.  At first he had thought her reticence was merely distrust.

Now that they were acquainted, he could see instead the rage that fueled her silence and stubbornness, the hatred she bore towards the Chantry that had made an icon and a prisoner of her.

He had no doubt that Leliana had an idea of where the newly-christened Inquisitor was, but she and the spymaster had an odd understanding.  He hadn’t intended to overhear Ellana taking her own life hostage to make a point to Leliana, but it had deepened his understanding of her.  Solas had little doubt Ellana would in fact kill herself if they tried to drive her too far.

There was a selfishness in her he abhorred, but a desperation he understood.

Unfortunately, to find her forced a contemplative stroll through the ruins of what had been built over Tarasyl’an Te’las.  It was foreign enough to dull that distant pain, but every now and again there would be a sign.  A piece of Elvhen statuary shattered into gravel, visible only due to its material, hints of older stonework at the base of some walls.  The bones of an ancient dragon encased in stone formed long after its death.

She was atop the walls, in the center of an intact section bounded by shattered stonework; a destination with no easy path to reach it.

A tower kept it from view, but he had heard the sounds of metal on stone in the distance, giving her position away.  After navigating the crumbled stonework to the top, she came into view at last.  The way between them was treacherous, a long section of fallen wall caved by ancient siege weaponry, no doubt.  It was tumbled into a pile, some of which had fallen down the side of the cliff.  

She sat on the intact wall beyond it, her back to Solas, a campfire lighting her silhouette.  Tendrils of deep mahogany hair were pulled free of her messy braid, streaming in the cold wind that blew past; the only signs of motion from her.  He knew instantly why she had gone silent and still.

Better to simply admit his approach, then, since she knew he was coming.  “Were you intending to stay all night, I wonder?”

In one fluid movement, she rose.  Her limbs unfolded, and then extended, arms stretching over her head until she stopped, short and sharp with a wince.  The left elbow again, he imagined. The fingers stretched wide over her head towards the evening sky curled in, hands balling into fists as her arms fell like dead weight to her sides.  Turning on her toes, she faced him at last.

Her impenetrable, sharp-jawed face was calm, eyes dark with their current distance and the light behind her.

Wide lips pursed minutely as she walked to the edge of the wall, the crumbling gap and the tempestuous mountain wind between them.

“I am displeased to see you, falon.  You should take care.  If you keep pestering me on word of the Andrastians, I may begin to think of you in the same light.”

“The only curiosity I sate is my own, lethallan,” he said, ignoring her return to sarcastic formality.

A grim smile touched her lips, but not her cold voice.  “Not going to fetch me for Cassandra this time?”

“No.  I asked that she no longer involve me.”

Her expression was bland and unreadable, but her eyes were alight with a gleam of curiosity.  “Why?”

“In light of your considerable and ever-increasing quarrel with the Chantry, I have decided to alienate them rather than you,” Solas replied, rather than lying to her.  She accepted lies without question, but counted them, and he had already lied to her more than he was comfortable with.  Every lie compounded, and renewed scrutiny might see things he would rather not be seen.

Finally she smiled, half-hearted and rueful, shaking her head.  “Your placation skills are as impressive as ever.  Don’t feed me medicine and tell me it’s honey, Solas.”

“It was a great unkindness, what Leliana did.”

Her smile faded away, and the light left her eyes.  “I’m tired of shouting over the wind.  Find your way across or go away,” she said, turning on her heel and returning to her fire.  He could see the frustration in her sharp steps, in the way she threw herself down on the stones.

By now he knew that his struggling might amuse her, but it would garner no sympathy or softening of her attitude.  And so, rather than making a show of attempting the dangerous climb, a feat which would be simple for her, he made the trek simple for himself as well.  Using magic, of course.  

Whatever occupied her continued to, and he knew it wasn’t merely a show of ignoring him.  

  Crossing the ruined wall was completed in a heartbeat, and as she was watching he didn’t bother to reduce his ability down to a spell she might recognize and accept.  Ellana seemed intensely familiar with magic, he’d cast before without a staff in the midst of a fight and he’d seen her discreetly checking his hands for injuries at camp.  Which he’d had, of course.  Some singed fingertips were a small sacrifice to his facade.

Not that she had any herself, but unlike the humans she treated it as something unremarkable as lighting a fire with flint and steel.

“Mac na galla,” she cursed under her breath, in a language he recognized but did not understand.

Something from the Free Marches, which made sense considering her origin.

As he came close, able to see over her shoulder, he could see what she was doing.  A small, rectangular metal box rested next to her knee, an array of tools and half-finished pieces spread before her.  Resting in the heart of her fire was a small crucible approximately the size of a teapot, which was filled with melted metal.  The source of her curse seemed to be a shorn nail, which had torn the delicate skin underneath, leaving a thin, ragged piece of nail behind at the edge.  It was bleeding, but she’d apparently already dismissed that injury, tossing a piece of her nail aside and picking up a half-finished arrowhead.

Having just been unmolded, it was rough and covered in burrs from its casting.  She picked up a file and began working at them, barely moving as he circled the fire to sit across from her.  There was a flicker of a sidelong glance, but nothing else.  

She had obliquely invited him to stay, and so he had no qualms about interrupting what was obviously some form of meditation. Self-soothing, perhaps, or simply a repetitive task to help clear her mind.  The Inquisition had plenty of arrows.

“Your finger is bleeding.  Might I assist?”

“Bleeding cleanses the body,” she muttered, which was entirely untrue.

“I am fairly certain all that bleeding accomplishes, in most cases, is to relieve you of your blood.”

“You can do some blood magic with it if you want,” she said, finger dripping onto her thigh as she filed down a spike of pebbled iron from the edge of the arrowhead.  It was a narrow, pyramidal one, of the type she tended to use against templars.

“I will abstain.  Was it you that left the basket in my tent?  If so, thank you– it is exactly what I was in search of.”

“The mountain pine trees have good bark for weaving.  The inner bark, not the outer.  The outer makes excellent fire-starters, especially if you can find a pitch-knot.  If you soak their cone-buds in honey for six months, strain, boil, and then ferment it, it makes something called melash, I think, but we just called it pine wine.  I learned it from a Frostback clan during the Arlathvhen.”

He had to admit, privately, that at times her presumption that he was an ignorant, helpless scholar that needed to be taught everything did grate.  On the other hand, in his company she was completely free with her speech, manner, and all of those vicious bristling edges she hid from everyone else.  She treated him, for better or worse, like she would any Dalish despite their disagreements about her people.  With one glaring difference– Ellana habitually acted as if he was a bird fallen out of a nest, something pitiable and fragile.

At least he had proven he knew how to forage, which had quelled her fears that he was three seconds from starving to death at all times.

Her concern was amusing, but knife-edged and imperious.  He knew it by now intimately, and no longer felt any arrogance in it.  She simply knew no other way to show people that she cared.  Not with her guard up constantly.

She and Sera were constantly at odds due to it, which was amusing to witness.  

Solas sat in quiet, contemplative silence, watching as she finished the arrowhead and moved to the next.

The metal box split in half, width-wise, revealing an interior packed with damp sand.  She pressed it back into each disheveled half, leaving it flat, and then carefully pressed her new arrowhead into the surface.  Then the box was closed over the arrowhead, to force its impression into the sand.

It was calming to watch her, scarred, graceful hands moving with authority and purpose, not a moment’s hesitation to impede her work.  He could imagine her as she doubtless had been, doing this exact same thing at a thousand firesides, during a thousand nights, small practiced movements as intricate as a dance and just as full of beautiful artistry.  The arrow was removed from the mold, and she set it atop her left knee, perched for later use.

The mold closed again, with a small reed caught between the halves to leave an opening for the metal to pour into the cavity.  The metal glowed, a sullen fiery hue, as she used a small metal ladle with a spout to scoop up the molten iron and tipped it into the mold.  The arc of magma-hot liquid iron was transfixing, despite the brevity of the moment.

She set the mold aside to cool, and lifted her narrowed eyes back to his face.  “You heard her threaten me.  You heard me threaten her.”  It was a statement, not a question, so he waited until she continued.  “You must be disappointed again that I had to be forced into the role they have chosen for me instead of happily sacrificing myself to save Thedas like a good little icon.  So please, tell me how selfish I am for attempting to choose my manner of death.  Make certain to be abstruse, or I won’t know how smart you are.”

“Yet again I am scolded for preferring specificity in my speech.  Lethallan, were I to write a treatise on you, it would be filled with contradictions.” 

Solas was pleased to see her smile, sly and barely-stifled.  Still, he hadn’t quite spoken his thoughts, which was what he had come here to do.  It was a faint hope that his words– marred by secrecy and a thousand lies– would do any good to comfort her, but he could try.

“It need not end in death, Ellana.”

“It will,” she replied placidly, staring into the fire.  “One way or another, it will.  To be raised up is to be chiseled down, the pieces of yourself that are inconvenient, or wrong, or too uncomfortable removed from you.  By force, if necessary, and by history, inevitably.  Whatever survives this will not be me, if anything does.”

She looked up at him, eyes reflecting the molten metal, gleaming like a predator in the night.

“I am already dead, Solas, I’ve told you.  I can feel them killing me.”

It was too matter-of-fact for dramatics, the words laden with a hard-won weariness and resignation that gave them a vicious certainty.  

“If you can think of any wisdom, any wisdom at all that will make this burden lighter for me, then speak.  But until the day I do not feel my back breaking under the weight of their expectations every time they look at me, this is where you will find me.  But eventually…”  She reached over and knocked open the mold, pulling a jagged arrowhead from it.  Lifting it, Ellana shifted her gaze over to it, gently spinning the metal in her fingers.  “Eventually there will be nothing of me left.  But there is no sympathy for me, no.  Because I am a thing, a beacon, a hand and not the woman connected to it.”

She turned the arrowhead one last time, and then tipped it towards him.  He could see the flaw in the metal, a hollow that had not filled properly during the casting.  It was thrown back into the crucible, his eyes tracking it, watching the metal begin to soften at the edges as it gave in to the heat.

“Would it make for a better tragedy for me to be hopeful, Solas?  To rail against the very sky, to stand up against an ancient magister like a child flinging stones at a giant?  Would that make it sad enough?  How pathetic must I be?  How humbled?  Tell me, Solas.  What form of martyr must I be?”

There was no answer that was both kind and true. “Ir abelas, my friend.”

Ellana laughed, soft and hollow, graceful, able hands limp in her lap. “Are you disappointed in me?”

“No,” he said quietly, “I am not.”

The wind whistled past them as the conversation fell silent.  

Fading from the edges of the sky, the day finally ended, leaving them in a circle of firelight   with the darkness all around them.  Ellana made no move to craft another arrows, busy, helping hands unable to do anything to lighten her burdens.  The guilt he felt in that moment eclipsed, even for a moment, the shield wall of duty and distance that kept him focused on his goals.

They had always felt small, these vestiges of the Elvhen, but at this moment he felt as overwhelmed by inevitability and grief as she did.

In this moment they were joined, and equal.

Victims of his grief.

“I’ve been thinking about when we spoke of your dreams.  Your Fade journeys.  It was some time ago, when–”

“I remember,” Solas said quietly.

“Not even the spirits will really remember me as I am, but as whatever they make of me,” she said with a small, faint laugh.  “Somehow that makes it all worse.”

“I will share my memories of you," he said, an odd, uncomfortably impulsive promise. It was no burden to make, of course, but it came with an emotion that must be ignored. Thrust aside. "Such as they are."

"Unflattering?" she joked grimly, and shook her head, leaving a smear of char on her forehead as she pushed her hair away. "The truth often is unflattering, Solas. You have ink on your chin."

Hastily he reached up to lick his thumb and wipe it away, her tired laugh easing some of the tension in the air. When he glanced up, she was smiling at him, and her eyes were clearer. Less heavy.

"Will you tell me a story?"

"I would be glad to," he assured her quietly.

And he did- ensuring it was a story with no villains, no struggle, and most importantly, no heroes.

There had been enough tragedy already.